David Handler - The Blood Red Indian Summer

Monique nodded eagerly. “That’s right, Chantal.”

“Whose clothes are these, Monique?” Des asked.

“I found them in Mr. Calvin’s laundry hamper,” she replied.

Every set of eyes in the room swiveled toward Calvin. In Tyrone’s eyes Des saw pure animal fury. In Rondell’s acute pain.

Jamella gaped at her father in shock. “Popsy, what’s she talking about?”

Outwardly, Calvin couldn’t have been calmer. He took another drink of his beer and set the can down on the coffee table, his hand steady as a rock. “That girl’s simple in the head. All mixed up. Those clothes aren’t mine.”

“A simple DNA test can determine that easily enough,” Yolie said. “It was a warm night. That shirt’s bound to have perspiration on it. Refresh my memory, Sergeant Tedone. Kinitra scraped up her knees pretty good, didn’t she?”

“She sure did, Loo.”

“Mr. Jameson, if that’s her blood on your shirt and pants then you’ll have some explaining to do.”

Calvin sat up a bit straighter, his jaw muscles clenching. “I don’t have to explain a thing. I been in trouble with you people my whole life. You’re always blaming me for every little thing. Never giving me a chance.”

“I’m giving you a chance,” Yolie responded evenly. “Are these your clothes or aren’t they?”

“So what if they are?” he demanded. “And so what if they’re dirty? That’s why I put ’em in the danged hamper.”

“How did those grass and bloodstains get on them?”

Calvin stared at Yolie coldly. “You want to know how they got there?”

“What I’m asking.”

“We had us a party here last night. I had me some fun out on the lawn with a certain young lady, okay?”

“A certain young lady named?…”

“We didn’t exchange no business cards. Her and me got to talking by the pool. Hit it off real fine. The wine was flowing. And one thing led to another, okay?” He tugged at his ear thoughtfully. “Shaniqua, maybe. I do believe her name was Shaniqua. She was a pretty young thing. Blond streaks in her hair.”

Chantal curled her lip at him. “What would a pretty young thing be doing with old trash like you?”

“Having herself a fine time. We made sweet love out on the lawn under the stars. That’s how those grass stains come to be there.”

“And the blood?” Yolie asked him.

“Couldn’t say, miss. I was surprised to see it there myself when I got undressed. She must have scraped her elbows or knees on something. We got going pretty wild there.”

“You are a no good lying punk,” Chantal said in a voice that had turned ice cold. “You are lying right now just like you been lying all along.”

Calvin stared at her long and hard. “You shut your mouth, woman.”

“I won’t shut my mouth! I’ve been keeping quiet for too long. I’m all done keeping quiet. You are evil, Calvin Jameson. You have been raping that sweet young daughter of yours for months under my son’s roof and you belong in eternal hell!”

Jamella gasped. “Popsy, what is she?…”

“Don’t pay her no mind,” Calvin said dismissively. “The woman’s an old crack whore. You going to listen to her or to me?”

“I can’t speak for the others,” Mitch said. “But I’m going with the crack whore.”

“She’s crazy,” Calvin insisted. “If you believe her, you’re just as crazy as she is.”

“Look me in the eye,” Jamella said to him pleadingly, her eyes huge and shiny. “Look me in the eye and say it isn’t so.”

Calvin looked his older daughter right in the eye and said, “It isn’t so, girl, I swear. Chantal’s just trying to get rid of me. She’s never liked me being around here with y’all. You know that.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Chantal begged Jamella. “He’s lying to you. I’m the one speaking the truth. I saw what I saw.”

“What did you see, Mrs. Grantham?” Yolie asked.

“The two of them together in Glen Cove-maybe five, six weeks ago. Everyone else had gone out on Da Beast for the afternoon. Me, I don’t like that boat. Get seasick soon as I’m out on the water. So I didn’t go. And Kinitra stayed behind to work on her music. So did Calvin, who said he wanted to take himself a nap. I-I was walking down the hallway, minding my own business, when I heard a little cry coming from the den. Looked in and he had her cornered in there. His pants was down around his ankles and h-he was making her do him from down on her knees. I let out a scream. Poor Kinitra went running to her room, crying her eyes out. And this thug zipped up his pants, yanked a huge knife from his back pocket and held it right to my throat. He said he’d kill me if I ever breathed one word about it to you, Jamella. Sneak into my room while I slept and slit my throat ear to ear. I-I didn’t doubt for one second he’d do it either. That man is pure thug. I know he’s your daddy and you love him, but he would have killed me. So I-I couldn’t tell you.”

“Moms, why didn’t you tell me?” Tyrone demanded to know.

Chantal heaved her chest. “I was afraid for you. You already got so much trouble in your life. You don’t need no more. I was doing what I should have done for you when you were young-except I was too messed up back then. I was protecting you, understand? Your little brother, too.”

Rondell peered at her, mystified. “How were you protecting me?”

“I know how you feel about that girl. I-I didn’t want you finding out such a horrible thing about her. Maybe I was wrong to keep quiet. Maybe I should have let Calvin slit my throat in the night. Maybe that was the Lord’s plan for me and I was just too blind to see. I’ve prayed on it long and hard, night after night. You can’t imagine how hard I’ve prayed. But I still don’t know the answer. I don’t. I-I just…” She broke down and sobbed.

“It’s okay, Moms.” Tyrone said down beside her and hugged her gently. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Little Rondell was so upset he couldn’t sit still. Jumped to his feet and paced his way around the entire room, shaking his head, before he returned to the seating area and came to a halt in front of Calvin. “ You got her pregnant,” he said hoarsely. “You forced yourself on your own daughter.”

Calvin crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly. “Your mama’s lying to you, boy. Wasn’t me.”

“It was him, little man,” Chantal cried. “I swear it. And I’m so sorry I didn’t speak up, Jamella.”

“And yet you gave Mitch that message for me today,” Des pointed out. “Why, Chantal?”

“Because that poor girl tried to take her own life, that’s why. Hers and her baby’s. There is no greater sin than that.”

Tears were spilling out of Jamella’s eyes and streaming down her chiseled cheekbones. “If what you say is true…”

“Oh, it’s true,” Chantal swore.

“Why didn’t she come to me? I’m her big sister. I’d do anything for her. I-I don’t understand.”

“I think I do,” said Des, who’d seen this sort of thing happen before. Too damned many times. “She didn’t come to you because she’s been blaming herself for what’s been going on. Plus she’s humiliated, ashamed and really, really frightened.” Des looked over at Calvin. “But not nearly as frightened as you. You panicked when Kinitra was admitted to the hospital, didn’t you? Especially after you found out she didn’t want you to visit her.”

Calvin reached for his beer can and took a swig. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, sounding a bit less sure of himself now.

“Sure you do, Calvin,” Des went on. “You had to know that the doctors would discover she was pregnant. You also had to know that once she was tucked away safe and snug, talking to the law about her situation, she’d eventually summon up enough courage to bring the hammer down on you. So when Tyrone went out for that ice cream, you cooked up a scheme on the fly. He said he’d be gone for a while, felt like clearing his head. The timing couldn’t have been more ideal. The second he walked out the door you called Andrea Halperin on her cell and told her to meet you at White Sand Beach. Then you snatched Tyrone’s Glock from his nightstand, hightailed it there on foot and shot her and Stewart Plotka, figuring if you framed Tyrone for their murders that Kinitra’s rape would land on him, too.”