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Randall
RANDALL CHECKED HIS phone again but there was no news alert or message from his contact within KMP. Everyone was going through the motions at Wyman’s as if it was business-as-usual, but it was anything but that. Reservations for events, and boat and cabin rentals had plummeted. The permanent residents were on edge. Brad had spent days scouring surveillance video and had come up empty. There was nothing Randall could put his hands around to make sense out of what happened. Traci had thrown herself into her community work and Brad started another backyard project. Everyone needed a diversion to keep from being overcome by worry. And today was his day to spend with his son.
Randall’s heart swelled each time he looked at little Remy, a tiny mirror image of himself. Traci complained that it was so unfair that she got all the stretch marks and he got all the credit. Randall countered that the baby had plenty of her attitude and that was enough.
He was a handful, an appetite as big as a lion and a roar to match. And healthy, thank God. He was in charge of Randall’s schedule today and was not bothered by anything his parents were dealing with at the moment. His only interest was in the next spoonful of food and his favorite hippo plush toy. Time was going by so fast; Randall could hardly believe it. He leaned over and whispered, “I wish Pops was here to meet you.” The boy’s eyes lit up as Traci rushed into the kitchen, dropped her purse on the floor, made a beeline to their son, and landed a series of loud sloppy kisses on his cheeks.
“How was the meeting?” Randall asked and lifted his chin for a kiss. She pinched his cheek instead and laughed.
“The governor’s office gave us the green light for our Youth in Place program to get a ten percent set aside to fund down payments for purchase of distressed properties here in Magnolia Grove.” She went to the sink and washed her hands, then dampened a dish towel and wiped R.J.’s little fingers. “DeMarcos is going to offer discounts on materials for the rehabbers and Arden Brothers Construction is going to help out with the DIY workshops.”
She walked over to the window and pointed across the alley. “And, we tracked down the absentee landlord of that place next door. He has to fix it up or sell it off. Lots of changes happening. It’s coming together! I’m excited.” She made a fist pump in the air, then picked up the sippy cup and dish from the table, scrubbed down the placement and replaced them as Randall dodged her elbows. Brad came inside, took a paper towel and wiped the sweat from his face.
“You know,” Traci tossed the cloth into the sink, spun around and looked Randall in the eyes, “it felt so good to be out there doing something that makes a difference. Something I’m good at, you know?” She walked over to the table and examined the chunky bits of food in the baby’s dish. She took the spoon from Randall. “What is your daddy feeding you?”
“Sausage bites,” Randall piped up. “Or, whatever this is you’re trying to pass off as sausage.” He squinted at the tiny print on the package label. “I give up, you tell me.”
R.J. snatched a fistful from the spoon, threw it on the table and giggled. Traci brushed the beige meaty crumbles into her palm and tossed them into the trash. She grabbed a small container of Wholesome Harvest for Toddlers, dropped it in the food warmer and pressed the button. “I know it’s a few months away, but I think we should have R.J.’s first birthday party at Moe’s Tavern. We can close off the patio area and decorate it with balloons and streamers.”
“Sounds good.” Randall stood up and stretched. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. She was wearing the orange dress with green palm leaf print that Candace had gifted from her last visit to Jamaica. It had a sash tie that cinched her waist. The dress was soft under his fingers as he slid them along her sides and shifted the sleeves gently off her shoulders. His hands glided down her back and traced the outline of her hips. She complained all the time about the baby weight, but he thought her curves were perfection. He loosened the hair clip and inhaled the scent as her curls flowed freely.
She brushed him aside and continued, “I stopped by Moe’s on the way home.”
“Swing and a miss,” Brad snickered from his observation spot across the room.
Randall gave him a side-eye and reached in the fridge for a bottle of water, handed a second one to Brad who refused it and grabbed a beer instead. He turned back to Traci.
“Cool, what did you bring me?” He would settle for something to eat for the moment.
“Have you seen what's parked out front?” She scrubbed out the Polly Panda sippy cup and filled it with apple juice.
“Ummm, what?”
“That thing ... in the parking lot. It's got Milo's name painted all over it. Something about Milo's Mobile ...”
“Milo's Mobile Meals.” Randall took a couple gulps of water. “Yeah, I know. It's a food truck. Well, not quite yet. He's converting it. Right now, it's a ...”
“Trap! He can't drive that thing.” Traci checked the timer on the food, then turned off the switch and faced him with her hands on her hips. “It's not safe, Randall. I looked inside. Did you look inside?”
“It'll be fine.”
“What's he going to do with it? Is he really planning to cook inside that thing? Like how? A kerosene stove in a truck.” She slapped her forehead. “What could possibly go wrong? That's a terrible idea.”
“It’s safe.”
“Safe? When we find people using kerosene at the campgrounds, we make them stop. We confiscate it. Right, Brad?” She turned and faced her brother-in-law.
Brad lowered his head and stepped out of the back door. Traci continued, “I have a gas stove, sure. Inside my house, that's safe. But cooking on a gas stove inside a truck? Going down the road? That's crazy! Nope, not going to let that happen.”
“Propane.”
“I don't like it. I'm going to tell him, no way! Nope, no way.” She wiped the drool from R.J.’s chin and checked his gums. “I'm not letting him do that, Randall.”
“Parked. Propane. It'll be fine. Perfectly safe, Tracinda.”
“How do you know for sure, huh?”
“I'm helping him with the conversion kit build-out.”
“What?”
“Come here, come here.” He put down the water bottle and swept her up in his arms. “The kid’s building his own business. Okay? He's already got a following with his friends and Moe's throwing all the outside catering business his way. Plus, it's something he's good at.”
“But ...”
“Listen,” he smiled and looked into her eyes. “Do I want him to go to college first? Yes.”
“But ...”
“But he's becoming a man now. You have to let him make his own choices and not give him a hard time about it. And, part of that is watching him make decisions that you don't agree with.”
“But, but, I don't like that part.” She buried her face in his chest and wept. He stroked her hair and gave her a few kisses as she sniffled and nuzzled her face under his chin. He understood that she would always see Milo as that lost young boy and every step that he took into adulthood was a struggle for her. But there was nothing she could do to slow that down and one day it would be the same with little Remy.
“I know, I know. It’s going to be alright.” He whispered in her ear, “Seriously, did you bring home some of Moe's ribs, or ...?”
“Randall, ugh!” She groaned, picked up R.J. and checked his diaper.
Randall looked over the menu plan stuck on the fridge door next to the family photo collage. “Hey Brad,” he shouted out the screen door. “How you feel about kale stuffed roasted cauliflower with potatoes and onions for dinner?”
“Shoot me now.” Brad bellowed from the porch.
“Very funny,” Traci said and pulled a fresh diaper from the caddy.
“Okay, I guess that means I've got to make a run to Red Roasters to get my carnivore fix.”
“Fine. Bring me the black bean and avocado burrito bowl,” she said and walked into the living room.
“Right, right.” Randall slipped on his ball cap.
“And the toasted frozen coconut smoothie. Unless they have the coconut matcha horchata, then get that instead. I don’t know why I’m into coconut these days.”
“Right, okay, got it.” He walked out the back door and slapped Brad on the shoulder. “You wanna roll with me?”
“Naw, I'm gonna sit right here, finish this beer and watch the cement dry.”
“Well, we finally found something you’re good at.”
––––––––
TRACI LOWERED R.J. into his playpen and answered the front door. Two KMP officers were waiting on the porch. She thought one looked familiar. What’s his name Gerald, or ...
“Tracinda Simmons?”
“Wells.”
“Again?”
“Tracinda Simmons Wells. Why? What's going on? Do you have news about the couple you found in the cabin? I mean about the deceased couple ...I mean, the remains?”
“We need some information from you.”
“Me? Why?”
“There are some questions we need you to answer concerning your whereabouts during a certain timeframe, your relationship with Joshua St. John, and some activities he was involved in while you two were ... friends. May we come inside?”
“No,” Bradford said from the kitchen, “not without a signed warrant from Judge Davis. Don't step one boot across that threshold. As a matter of fact, I would advise you to leave the premises.”
Traci looked back at Brad. He shook his head and mouthed ‘No’ at her.
“We can come back another time,” the officer said and glanced at Brad, noticeably irritated by the interference, “with a warrant. However, we'd like you to cooperate voluntarily with us and just answer a few questions down at the station.”
“Okay,” Traci said, then looked back at Brad. “I'm going to go with them. Maybe it’ll help get to the bottom of what happened to those poor people. Watch R.J. for me, okay? I'm sure it won't take long.”
Traci stepped outside and followed the policemen down the porch steps. Officer Jerome turned to her and said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“Hands behind your back,” the other officer said and reached for the handcuffs attached to his belt.
“Wait, what?”
He forced her to turn around, pulled her arms together behind her back and snapped the handcuffs onto her wrists. He seized her by the arm and led her to the awaiting squad car.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?”
“What do you think?” He opened the back door and shoved her forward. “You’re under arrest.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything,” she twisted her body around and tried to flee back to the house, but the two men forced her inside the car. “Brad!” she shouted just before the door was slammed in her face.
Brad rushed to the porch holding R.J. “I'll let Randall know what's happening,” he yelled. “Don't say anything until he shows up.”
