“That’s right, Popsy,” Jamella said reassuringly.
Des glanced over at the Deacon. His face revealed nothing. Never did. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Jamella?”
“I just thought that, I mean, I wanted to…” She broke off with a ragged sob. “God, this was a terrible idea. We should just go, Popsy. Stop bothering these people.”
“You’re not bothering us. What’s this about?”
Jamella reached for her lemonade and took a small sip, the glass shaking in her hand.
“She’s gotten herself all worked up,” Calvin explained. “Wondering if it could be her Tyrone who fathered Kinitra’s baby.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t,” Jamella insisted. “I’m just wondering -which I know is so unbelievably terrible. Not to trust the man who I love. But knowing what I know about his life before we met. All of those other women having his babies and…” She bit down hard on her lower lip again, her eyes puddling with tears.
“She did speak to Tyrone about it,” Calvin said. “The man swore to her he’s never touched Kinitra. But I could still see the doubt in her eyes. So I said, let’s go talk to the resident trooper about it. She’s investigating the case. She knows facts, not fears.”
“Speaking of facts…” The Deacon gazed at Des with chilly disapproval. “I understand from Jamella that Lieutenant Yolanda Snipes and Sergeant Toni Tedone of the Major Crime Squad have launched a criminal investigation.”
“That’s correct,” Des said, meeting his stern gaze before she turned back to Jamella. “Do you honestly believe Tyrone is capable of doing something like this?”
Jamella shook her head. “I don’t know. I-I just don’t…”
Calvin put his hand over hers. “Now don’t get all upset again. Just ask the lady what you came here to ask her.”
Jamella took another sip of her lemonade, her hand a bit steadier now. “I was wondering if Tyrone is a target of your investigation.”
“Technically? No. Because, technically, no crime has been committed.”
“How can you say that?” Calvin demanded. “Kinitra was raped.”
“She insists she wasn’t.”
“But you know she was!” Now Calvin was the one getting worked up. “Jamella said the doctors found awful scars and suchlike.”
“Kinitra’s still your little girl,” the Deacon put in, his voice calm and gentle. “But as far as the law is concerned, she’s a grown woman. If she says no crime took place then no crime took place. We see this all too often with domestic abuse cases. A neighbor will call us up and tell us that the man in the apartment next door is beating the heck out of his wife. We get there and the wife’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, her eye swollen half shut. She assures us she’s perfectly fine. Just fell down in the park while she was walking her dog. And there’s not a thing we can do.”
“That’s c-crazy!” Calvin sputtered in disbelief.
“That’s the law,” Des said. “But I promise you we’re trying to find out what happened.”
Calvin studied her from across the table. “You’re going the extra mile for my girl, aren’t you? You’ve got them investigating this thing even though she don’t want you to. How come, miss?”
“Because she’s afraid.”
“You mean afraid of Tyrone?”
“I don’t have anything concrete to implicate Tyrone at this point,” she replied. Meanwhile thinking that Calvin wasn’t exactly steering her away from Tyrone. Possibly the man knew something more. Something he wasn’t willing to spill in front of Jamella. “Where is Tyrone?”
“He was lifting with Clarence when we left,” Jamella said. “That’s what he does when he’s upset.”
“Does he know that you’ve come here?”
She shook her head. “I told him we were going out for ice cream.”
“And what about Rondell?”
“Working in his office, I imagine. I never know where he is. Rondell’s got to be the quietest man I’ve ever met. Tyrone says he’s been that way since they were boys and Chantal was into the drugs and all. Tyrone coped with it by getting so strong nobody could hurt him. Rondell shrank into the corner and got quieter.” She hesitated before she added, “He has a crush on Kinitra. I mean, it’s pretty obvious. But he’d never get rough with her. He has no meanness in him.”
“Yes, he does,” the Deacon countered. “We all do-if we’re riled a certain way.”
“True enough,” Calvin concurred, drinking down the last of his lemonade. “And you never know what’ll set somebody off. I’ve seen men get shanked in the yard over a danged candy bar.”
“What about Clarence?” Des asked Jamella. “Is he someone who we should be looking at?”
“Clarence has a big mouth. But he’s a decent person deep down. Besides, he’s got hot skanks coming and going. What does he need my baby sister for?”
“Maybe he’s in love with her.”
“Not so I’ve noticed. Have you, Popsy?”
“No, can’t say as I’ve ever gotten that particular vibe off of cousin Clarence. He does spend a lot of hours with Kinitra in the recording studio. I hear them lipping away at each other all of the time. But he’s strictly, you know, playful with her. Like she’s his own kid sister.”
Des found her thoughts straying to someone else who might know something-Chantal. She figured nothing went on there that Chantal didn’t know about. But she also felt certain that Chantal would never say one bad word about either of her sons. “I just realized I’m being a terrible hostess. I haven’t offered you folks more lemonade. I could go for a glass myself. Jamella, would you mind giving me a hand?”
“You sit, girl,” Calvin said. “I’ll help her out.”
“That’s okay, Popsy. If I don’t keep moving around I feel like a beached whale.” Jamella got herself up and followed Des inside with their empty glasses, leaving the two men out on the deck. “Girl, this is a real nice place you’ve got here. You must feel so proud owning your own home.”
“Yes, I do.” Des pulled the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and refilled their glasses. Found a glass for herself and filled that, too. She took a sip, lingering there in the kitchen with Tyrone Grantham’s pregnant wife. “Excuse me for asking but has Tyrone ever gotten rough with you?”
“You mean like slapped me around? No, never. I’d never let any man put his hands on me that way. I’ve got too much respect for myself.”
Des took another sip of her lemonade. Out on the deck, the Deacon and Calvin were talking softly. “Why are you really here, Jamella? What’s bothering you? You can trust me. I won’t tell a soul.”
Jamella gazed at Des imploringly. “Word?”
“Word.”
“I’m here…” She hesitated, swallowing. “Because I love Tyrone to death except I don’t know if I trust him. And that’s so messed up. I mean, how can you love a man and yet not be sure about him?”
“Easiest thing in the world. I did exactly that for three years with my ex-husband,” Des told her, having learned one simple truth long ago: When it comes to confiding, you need to give some to get some. “I even took him back again a few months ago-even though the bastard had cheated on me the whole time we were married and lied to my face about it. Didn’t matter. When it comes to men the heart wants what it wants and the head gets a great big dose of stupid. Hell, I actually convinced myself it would all be different this time.”
Jamella’s eyes searched hers. “And it wasn’t?”
“Not a chance.”
“How about Mitch?” she asked. “Do you trust him?”
“Yes, I do. I feel safe with him. How do you feel with Tyrone?”
“I don’t know what I feel,” Jamella answered wearily. “He’s never been anything but a perfect gentleman the whole time we’ve been together. But these stories about other women keep dogging him. Like this whole Stewart Plotka mess. Tyrone keeps telling me, ‘Baby, I don’t even know who Katie O’Brien is.’ And I’ve been believing him. But that man showed up outside our house today with a blouse of hers he says has Tyrone’s stuff on it. And now my own baby sister is pregnant. And, suddenly, I don’t know who to believe anymore. I feel like such a horrible person. But I want to know-really know -that it wasn’t him who went after Kinitra. Can you understand that?”