David Handler - The Blood Red Indian Summer

“That makes perfect sense, Master Sergeant,” Mitch said slowly. “Except I have a mighty huge icebox question for you.”

“What’s an icebox question, Loo?” Toni asked.

“It’s some weird Hitchcock old movie thing,” Yolie replied. “Trust me, don’t go there.”

Des stared at him. When Mitch had an icebox question, he was not kidding around. “Okay, lay it on me…”

“How did Calvin know Andrea Halperin’s cell number?”

“I ain’t saying nothing,” Calvin grumbled in response.

“Yes, you are,” said Rondell, who in the blink of an eye no longer stood facing Calvin. He stood behind him holding a Glock 19 to Calvin’s head-a Glock 19 that he’d whipped out of the rear waistband of his slacks. He’d had it hidden under that damned Hawaiian shirt. And made his play so fast that not one of them had a chance to react. Not Des. Not Yolie. Not the Deacon. Not Toni.

And for damned sure not Calvin, who sat there frozen and wide-eyed.

“Don’t anybody move!” Rondell warned them. “Keep your weapons holstered or I swear I will blow his brains all over this beautiful white sofa!”

“Whatever you say, Rondell.” Yolie’s voice was calm and quiet. “Just take it easy.”

“I’m taking it easy!”

“Then why don’t you put that gun down?” Des suggested. “Let’s not make this situation any worse.”

“She’s right, little brother,” Tyrone said. “Put that thing away. This ain’t your style.”

“My style?” Rondell shoved the Glock’s nose harder against Calvin’s head, the gun trembling in his hand. “My style is to treat a fine young lady like Miss Kinitra Jameson with respect. And just look where that got me, will you?”

“Is that your brother’s Glock?” Des asked him. She wanted to keep him talking. Maybe cool his jets a little.

“No, it’s my Glock,” he answered angrily. “I keep it in my desk at all times in case some nut like Stewart Plotka tries to go after him. You people made sure you asked Clarence if he kept a weapon in the house. But not one of you thought to ask me -because you think I’m a-a helpless little wonk. A weakling. You all think that.”

“That’s not true,” Jamella said, as he continued to hold that Glock to her father’s head. “I think you’ve got a whole lot to offer. You’re smart. You’re compassionate. I’ve always said that.”

Tyrone nodded his head. “That’s right, she has. Let the police handle this, little brother. Stop and think, will you? What in the hell are you doing?”

“I’m taking care of myself.” Beads of sweat had formed on Rondell’s forehead. He was so overheated his glasses were practically fogging up. “That’s what you always told me a man does, right? Well, I’ve got some news for you. All of you. I’m a man. And I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Sure you can, son,” the Deacon said. “No one in this room doubts that for one second. But what’s important right now is for you to put that gun down and let the law take over.”

Rondell shook his head. “No, sir. I’m sorry, but this is a family matter. And I’m in charge now. So y-you answer the question, Calvin. Answer it right goddamned now.”

Calvin gulped. “ Which question?”

“Mitch’s ice chest question.”

“Actually, it’s an ice box question. The term dates back to when folks still owned…” Mitch broke off when he noticed Des’s warning glare. “But you can say it either way.”

“How did you get Andrea Halperin’s cell number?” she asked Calvin.

“She… gave me her business card at the store.” Calvin’s eyes shifted uneasily as Rondell pressed the Glock to his head. “In case I ever wanted to sell her some inside info to help her case.”

“And did you?”

“Naw, never.”

“Keep talking,” Rondell commanded him.

“About what?”

“What you did tonight, you sick bastard!”

“Okay, okay. I phoned that Miss Halperin, like the trooper said. Told her I might have some news to sell her. We agreed to meet in that parking lot at seven. I-I took Tyrone’s gun from his nightstand and hoofed it there, like the fellow said. Took that shortcut through the woods at the end of Sour Cherry.”

“How did you know about that path?” Mitch asked him.

“Cee mentioned it to me.”

“It’s true, I did,” Clarence said.

Rondell jabbed the Glock at him even harder. “Who made that hole in our fence?”

“It was me,” Calvin admitted. “I can appreciate Tyrone wanting his privacy and all. But I lived inside the wire for too many years. Don’t like to be fenced in. I need to roam-without some state trooper at the front gate knowing my business. So I took some wire cutters to the thing first night they put it in. Moseyed around the neighborhood and found me this fine white girl next door who likes to paint buck naked on the sun porch after dark.”

“Her name is Callie. Have you ever laid a hand on her?” Mitch demanded.

“No, sir. I looked, that’s all.”

“You met them at the White Sand Beach parking lot,” Yolie said. “Then what happened?”

Calvin let out a sigh. “I-I capped them, okay? Then I came straight home.”

“Where’s the weapon?” Yolie asked.

“Tossed it in the woods.”

“With your prints on it?”

“Naw, I wiped it clean. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Don’t know yet,” she replied. “Still getting there.”

Rondell took a ragged breath, the Glock shaking in his hand. “Was Trooper Mitry right? Did you kill those people to make it look like Tyrone was a cold-blooded murderer? A-And everyone would figure he raped Kinitra?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Calvin retorted. “Not a one of you believed him just now when he swore he was innocent. Not you, Jamella. Not you, Rondell. You all thought he did it. Hell, these police people were ready to take him away in cuffs until that crazy old man showed up with his mouthy friend.”

“He’s not crazy,” Mitch said indignantly. “And I’m not mouthy. I choose my words very carefully. Force of habit. The first magazine I ever worked for only gave me fifty words to dissect an entire movie. Why, I could barely even-”

Des said, “Mitch…”

He moved it along. “I simply like to get to the bottom of things. Like, for instance, how long have you been raping your own daughter, Calvin?”

“I never touched a hair on my beautiful Kinitra’s head.”

“Try again,” Mitch urged him. “And I’d be a bit more careful about how you answer. Rondell’s hand is getting kind of twitchy. Rondell, we’re making excellent progress here. Sure you don’t want to put that thing down and have a seat?”

“Positive,” he replied between gritted teeth.

Jamella’s shiny eyes searched her father’s face. “Is it true, Popsy? Did you… do those things to her?”

“Naw, girl,” Calvin said reassuringly. “You know me.”

She flared at him suddenly. “Yeah, I know you. I know that after I got to be twelve years old you started looking at me up, down and sideways, licking your chops. That’s why Mama threw you out, wasn’t it? Because she knew you.”

Tyrone began breathing in and out very hard. And that vein was throbbing in his forehead now. “Did he ever come near you?”

“No, never,” she replied. “Mama made sure he never got the chance. He was out of our lives for years. And he’s been nothing but decent since you invited him to move in with us. Sure, I’ve seen him flirting with the pretty young girls by the pool. But he never got out of line. He was strictly being playful. Chantal gets upset about him watching his porn. But there isn’t a man in America who doesn’t watch porn. He’s been a good father to Kinitra and me since he moved in. Or so I thought.” She glared at Calvin. “I should have known the real deal.”