“I am.”
“I am sorry to bother you but my family has suffered a terrible experience. My brother’s wife… Her sister washed up on your beach.”
“I know. I’m the one who found her. And I know you, Rondell. We met last night at the party. I was with Resident Trooper Mitry. I escorted Mr. Lash home, remember?”
Rondell peered at him, his gaze unfocused. “Of course. Please forgive me. I’m a little… upset.” He took a big gulp of the vodka, holding the bottle out to Mitch. “Care for some?”
“No, thanks. It’s a little early for me.”
“I hardly ever drink. Maybe a glass of champagne at New Year’s.”
“Rondell, was that bottle full when you started in on it?”
“Yes, I believe it was. I opened it. Needed a drink.” He took another gulp, wavering as he stood there. “Has Resident Trooper Mitry… told you anything?”
“I know Kinitra’s pregnant, if that’s what you mean.”
Rondell let out a grief-stricken sob. “Who would do such a thing to her?”
“Rondell, would you like to come out for a cup of coffee?”
“Actually, I was wondering… I would very much like to see the spot where you found her.”
“What for?”
“Because I almost lost her. Want to see where she was found. That make any sense?”
“Sure, it does. I’ll be happy to show you. Nice car you have, by the way.”
“Thank you. It was a birthday present from my brother.”
“Why don’t you leave it here? We can take my truck, okay?”
Rondell was certainly an agreeable drunk. He opened the Studey’s passenger door and climbed right in, bottle in hand. “This truck is very much an antique type of truck, is it not?”
“It is an antique type of truck, yes.”
“Most interesting.”
“Glad you think so.”
Mitch steered it across the wooden causeway and pulled up outside his cottage.
Rondell squinted at it through the windshield. “This is very much an antique type of house, too. Rather modest in scale. I thought it would be much grander.”
“It’s plenty big enough for me. I live by myself.”
“Really? I personally have never lived by myself. Wouldn’t even know how. I’ve always lived with my brother. Or a-a succession of college roommates. None of them liked me very much. Do you like me, Mitch?”
“Sure, I like you fine. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because most people do not. They consider me to be a drippy, dweeby sort of individual. I never spent much time with my roommates. I was always at the library studying. I had to be. I couldn’t let Tyrone find out my secret.” He drank down some more vodka, hiccoughing slightly. “Would you like to know my secret?”
“Okay.”
“I’m not very smart.”
“Who are you kidding? You don’t get an MBA from Wharton by being a dummy.”
“No, listen to what I’m saying. Listen. The others were so much smarter. I had to play catch up at the library every single night. Cram and cram and…” Rondell noticed the groceries that were piled on the seat between them. “You do your own cooking?”
“I do.”
“You’re an accomplished type of person, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m what they call a renaissance schlub.”
Rondell blinked at him. “May I see the inside of your home?”
“Absolutely.”
Mitch stowed the dinner groceries in the fridge while Rondell flopped down on the love seat with his vodka bottle, gazing around at the living room.
“Very nice home, Mitch,” he observed.
“Just do me a favor and don’t call it sa-weet.”
“Wasn’t going to. I would be very happy in such a house. It’s exceedingly atmospheric. You play the guitar?”
“I make some noise.”
“Kinitra plays the piano.”
“Yes, I know.”
Rondell set the bottle down sharply on the coffee table. “I would like to see where you found her.”
Mitch led him down the path toward the beach. Rondell walked slowly and carefully, one foot in front of the other as if he were on a tightrope. It was still warm and muggy out. The sky was a hazy summer sky. And yet Mitch could feel a slight change in the air. A breeze was starting to pick up. A few sailboats were out there trying to catch hold of it.
Rondell peered out at them. “Tyrone has a cigarette boat.”
“I’ve seen it. And heard it.”
“I hate the thing. It’s so childish.”
“We’re all children inside.”
“Very true, Mitch. You are a profoundly deep individual.”
“That’s me, all right. I was voted North America’s Deepest Critic at the Cannes Film Festival last year.”
“Were you really?”
“That was a joke, Rondell.”
He nodded sagely. “Another reason why nobody likes me-I have no sense of humor whatsoever.”
“I can give you some homework if you want. A thorough grounding in the films of Preston Sturges ought to help. Plus a steady diet of Abbott and Costello, The Three Stooges, Daffy Duck… Tell you what, I’ll put together a list.”
“I would appreciate that very much.”
Mitch had left an orange safety cone where they’d found her. The tide had gone out since then. The cone stood well back from the water’s edge.
As he approached the cone Rondell began to cry. He fell to his knees and flattened his hands against the sand, holding them there as if he were trying to soak up Kinitra’s aura. “She… was naked when you found her?”
“She had on a white sleeveless T-shirt and panties.”
“But you could see through them.”
“Well, yeah. They were soaking wet.”
He looked up at Mitch accusingly. “You saw her private bits.”
“I’m not the only one who did.”
“Shut your filthy mouth!” Rondell staggered to his feet and threw a wild roundhouse right at Mitch, who ducked it easily and stuck out his leg, tripping him. Rondell sat down hard on the sand, gulped and then proceeded to gaack up that bottle of Grey Goose along with, seemingly, everything he’d eaten in the past three days.
“Feel better now?” Mitch asked him when he was all done.
“I suppose,” he replied weakly, kicking sand over the mess.
“I wasn’t disrespecting her, Rondell. All I meant was that my parents were with me when I found her. They saw her, too. So did the Jewett girls.”
“I understand. Absolutely, totally my mistake. I apologize. Would you care to hug it out?”
“Not necessary. We’re good.”
“I love her so much that it hurts,” he confessed. “It physically hurts, Mitch. Right here in my chest. Kinitra’s my angel. You should hear her sing. You should be around her. She’s… so beautiful. All I ever dream about is the day we will be together.”
“Does she feel the same way about you?”
Rondell shook his head. “Not yet. She still thinks of me as someone who’s too serious for her. Bordering on dull. My brother keeps telling me to lighten up around her. Be more casual. He’s even taken to buying me hipper clothes. Tell me, is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rondell sat there on the sand, hugging his knees to his chest. “I realize she’s not going to fall for someone like me at this particular stage of her life. She’s about to become a huge singing star. She wants a handsome movie actor or professional athlete, not a glorified accountant. And I’m okay with that for now. I’ll be proud to manage her career for her. Keep her finances in order so she won’t get robbed blind like so many young performers do. And, over time, my hope is that she will eventually see me the same way I see her. I’m patient. I can wait for years if I have to. Because, for me, there’s no one else.” He let out a forlorn sigh. “My brother thinks I’m a fool. He’s had hundreds of women. Possibly even thousands. They literally throw themselves in his path at clubs, at parties, wherever he goes. Mind you, that was before he met Jamella. Now he has to toe the line. She makes sure he does. Watches his every move. Believe me, you do not want to piss that one off.”