Tyrell opened the back door to his grandmother’s house and inhaled the aroma of country ribs and black-eyed peas cooking on her stovetop. He still had to serve that restraining order on Boots Riley, but there was no hurry. He’d be locked up for a few more hours at least, even if the duty judge heard his case tonight. Tyrell wanted to have a bite of dinner before he faced the next phase. And there was no cooking in town that could compare to the cooking of Ella Brown. She was standing at the stove when he opened the door, her old figure still tall and lean. Tyrell figured he’d gotten his height from her. He walked over and gave her a kiss on her soft, lined cheek.
‘Hi honey,’ she said. ‘You’re just in time. Grab a plate and join ’em.’
The kitchen had been noisy when he walked in, with the sounds of teasing and the whoop of laughter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cletus and two of his friends seated at the table, their heads bent over steaming plates. But when Tyrell entered the kitchen, they fell silent. He was too tired to wonder why.
‘Let me wash up,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He went down the hall to the bathroom with its cheerful orange tiles and ruffled curtains that matched the shower curtain. He turned on the tap, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned over the basin, thinking about the scene in the courtroom. It had not taken long for Judge Hobart to decide. She had taken testimony from Tyrell, who also read the statement from the garage mechanic into the record. She questioned the two workers from the cemetery, who showed up looking anxious and out of place. Dena Russell had been sworn in and explained about the fact that Brian had hit her, and that she had called 911. This had given Tyrell some anxious moments as the judge peered down at him over the top of her reading glasses and wanted to know why this complaint hadn’t been pursued by the police.
Tyrell had kicked the problem upstairs, explaining that the chief had promised to see to it personally. ‘Well, I shall have to speak to Chief Potter about that,’ Judge Hobart had threatened.
Tyrell wasn’t worried about his testimony. After all, it wasn’t a lie, but nevertheless he knew he would catch hell from Chief Potter once the judge was through with him. But Riley had pushed it too far. Left them no choice.
Tyrell washed his face, mopped it dry and rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning them as he came back into the kitchen. Ella had put his plate on the table next to Cletus but, before Tyrell could pull out his chair, Cletus and his friends stood up.
‘We’re leavin’,’ Cletus announced. ‘We don’t want to sit with no company nigger,’ he said.
‘Cletus, you apologize right now to your brother,’ Ella demanded. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘I apologize to you, Grandma. Not to him.’
Tyrell refused to take the bait. He looked at his brother through narrowed eyes. ‘What’s up with you?’
Cletus’s buddies were sullen-faced, but avoided Tyrell’s gaze. He was, after all, a cop. Cletus, however, was not intimidated by his brother’s authority.
‘We heard how you was lookin’ for Warrick Allen. Saying he was the one coming around, calling on that white bitch that got herself killed. It has to be a brother, doesn’t it?’
Tyrell sighed wearily, and picked up his fork. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said.
‘Yeah, not much,’ said Cletus disdainfully.
Cletus indicated to his friends that they should exit the kitchen. He muttered something under his breath which Tyrell knew was unprintable. Part of him felt like he ought to get up and get into it with him. But his heart wasn’t in it.
‘I’ll sit with you,’ said Ella, in her sweet voice. ‘I don’t know what is with that boy. Talkin’ to you that way.’
Tyrell smiled sadly at his grandmother and began to eat. Suddenly his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. ‘Work,’ he said.
‘Can’t they leave you alone long enough to have a square meal?’ Ella protested.
Tyrell swallowed what he was chewing, and answered the phone.
Ken McCarthy sounded nervous on the other end. ‘Sergeant, I better tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’ Tyrell asked, frowning. ‘The chief let him go,’ said Ken. ‘I brought in Riley, and before I could process him, the chief came out and told me he’d take care of it. Ten minutes later I saw him walking out of here.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Tyrell, and then looked at Ella. ‘Sorry, Grandma.’ He threw down his napkin beside his plate. ‘All right. I’m on my way.’
‘Scrub a dub-dub, there’s a bear in my tub,’ said Dena, quoting the children’s book she had read to Megan twice before she could be nudged to her bath.
Wearing a serious expression, Megan slapped her pudgy arms down into the bubbles, causing a bubble explosion in the tiny bathroom. Dena sat back on her heels, her face flushed from the heat of the bathroom and the effort of bending over the tub in her condition. She brushed her hair back with her forearm and smiled at the child’s experiments. Peter had come knocking on her door because his teenaged baby-sitter had canceled at the last minute. Dena had assured the frantic father that she was glad to help with the girls. ‘Are you ready to get out of there now?’ she asked Megan.
Megan shook her head and slapped the bubbles again.
Dena hesitated, not knowing exactly how to deal with this silent refusal. ‘Well, I think that’s enough bath for now,’ said Dena, hoisting herself awkwardly to her feet.
She picked up a pink bath towel and held it out to Megan. Megan continued to play in the water as if she hadn’t heard her. Dena felt a certain helplessness at the sight of her closed, remote little face. What does she want? Dena wondered. And then, she had a bright idea. ‘I know two songs I could sing to a girl who was dried off and in her pajamas.’
Megan held her forearms frozen above the bubbles.
‘Two really good songs,’ Dena announced.
Slowly, as if it were her own idea, the child began to climb out of the tub.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Dena. ‘We missed a spot.’ She turned Megan around, ready to wipe off the smudge on the child’s lower back and then saw, as soon as she reached for it, that the smudge was actually a star-shaped birthmark. Not wanting to draw attention to her mistake, she wiped the child’s back anyway, and then wrapped her up in the towel. The little girl’s warmth, her fragrant wet hair and glowing skin were so appealing that Dena wanted to reach out and hug her. The child, as if sensing her intention, froze and shook her head.
Just then, the bathroom door flew open and Tory stood there, dressed in her flowered nightgown, her small face looking pinched and white.
‘What is it?’ Dena asked, instantly alarmed.
‘I heard something. Outside,’ she whispered. ‘I think somebody’s there. I think I saw a shadow, around the side of the house.’
Dena felt her heart start to hammer. She didn’t want the children to know what she was thinking. ‘There aren’t any shadows. It’s nighttime, silly,’ she said gently.
‘I saw one. I did.’
‘Did you look out the window?’
‘I was too afraid,’ Tory said, wide-eyed. Immediately, Megan began to whimper.
‘Now stop,’ said Dena. ‘Both of you. Take it easy. I’ll just go and look. Tory, can you help Megan put on her pjs?’
‘Don’t leave us alone in here,’ Tory pleaded.
Dena sighed and let the water out of the tub. Hurriedly, she pulled on Megan’s pajamas. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you both to your room.’
Both children clung to Dena as they left the bathroom, and headed down the hall.
Suddenly, the doorbell buzzed, and all three jumped. Megan started to wail.
‘Megan, stop,’ Dena pleaded.
‘What if it’s a monster?’ Tory asked.
‘Tory, you stop egging her on.’
‘But I’m afraid,’ the child insisted. ‘That woman got killed around the corner. The one you knew. What if that’s the killer?’
‘What an imagination,’ Dena exclaimed. But her voice wobbled. No, she told herself. It couldn’t be Brian. Sergeant Watkins had promised her he would be locked up. At least for tonight. ‘I’ll go and see right now.’
‘Don’t leave us,’ Tory pleaded.
‘Then come with me,’ said Dena. The buzzer sounded again, more insistently.
Tory stared at Dena in an agony of indecision. Finally, she agreed, being as curious as she was afraid. ‘OK,’ she said.
Dena and the children shuffled out into the vestibule toward the front door, the children dragging their feet. When they reached the door, both children huddled behind Dena, peeping out from in back of her.
Dena put the chain on, and opened the door a crack.
In the overhead porch light, Dena could see that a man she knew was standing there, but not the man she was worried about.
‘Ron,’ she said.
‘Who is it?’ Tory demanded.
‘It’s all right. It’s someone I know,’ said Dena, stroking Megan’s damp hair.
The child clung to her leg. Dena unhooked the chain and pulled the door back. ‘Come in,’ she said.
Ron’s complexion was the color of dust, and his hair seemed to have gone from salt and pepper to gray overnight. His coat was rumpled and stained, his tie askew.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ she said kindly, relieved – but a little surprised – to see him there. ‘Girls, go in your room and get a storybook. I’ll be right in to read to you. It’s all right. It’s … it’s a friend.’
Ron frowned at the wide-eyed children behind her. ‘Who are they?’ he asked.
‘I’m baby-sitting them tonight. Tory, do as I say. Take Megan.’
Reluctantly, the child complied, glancing back behind her to stare at the man who was entering their living room, sitting down on their sofa, clutching his head in his hands as if to quell some throbbing pain.
Dena looked at him helplessly. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’
Dena sat down gingerly beside him and put a hand on his arm. ‘Ron, you should be resting. You’ve been through so much.’
‘I’ll rest when I’m dead,’ he said flatly.
Those words, which usually indicated that a person was having too much fun to rest, took on an ominous meaning coming from him. His despair was palpable. ‘Didn’t the doctor give you something … a prescription to help your nerves?’ she asked.
‘Nothing wrong with my nerves,’ he insisted. Ron shook his head. ‘No.’ Then, he said more briskly. ‘No, the reason I came over is … I was thinking about the baby’s things.’
Dena grimaced at the thought of the lost baby. Dead in his mother’s womb. It was too awful to contemplate. ‘What about them?’ she asked.
‘I’m … cleaning out the house, you know. To sell it. Is this where you live?’ he asked.
Dena shook her head. ‘I live upstairs. I’m just watching the children for my neighbor.’
Ron nodded, as if he had difficulty understanding, and looked sadly around the partially dismantled apartment.
‘You were saying about the house?’
‘Right. I’m gonna clean it out.’
‘It’s so soon,’ said Dena. ‘Maybe you should wait.’
‘What for?’ he demanded. ‘In case she might come back, and start looking for things?’ His voice was loud and high.
Dena shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Sorry,’ Ron mumbled. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re just so … you’re suffering so right now. I thought it might be better to wait.’
‘No.’ Ron stood up and began to pace around the small living room. ‘No. I want to take care of everything.’
‘Well, what can I do to help you?’ Dena asked, spreading her hands wide.
‘She had so many things ready … for the baby. In the nursery,’ he said. It was as if he was stabbing himself with the words. They seemed to emerge in a groan of pain.
‘I know,’ said Dena. She felt tears spring to her eyes.
‘She’d want you to have them,’ he said. ‘You take them. Use them for your baby.’
The thought that came to her mind, but not to her lips, was that she was leaving town, and wouldn’t be able to take them. She knew Jennifer had everything – furniture, blankets, a rug. She couldn’t carry all that. But she also knew, looking at him, that she couldn’t say it. Not even hint it. It would be cruel – heartless – to refuse.
‘That’s so kind of you,’ she said.
‘She would have wanted it that way,’ he insisted. ‘I know she would. I know my Jenn …’
Protests and logistics rose to her mind, but she stifled them. She would take whatever things he wanted to give her, and she would find a way to transport them. She was not about to make it his problem – asking how she could move the baby’s things, and where she could store them. She would figure all that out. All that was important right now was that she say yes, and be grateful. He needed her to do that. It was little enough to ask.
‘That would be so wonderful,’ Dena said, clasping his hand in hers. ‘I have hardly anything for my baby. I’d be so pleased to have them’
He didn’t exactly smile, but the thundercloud on his face seemed to clear slightly, and a dazed kind of satisfaction peeked through, for a second, like a ray of sun on a stormy day. ‘Really?’
‘It was so kind of you to think of me,’ she said. ‘When would you like me to come and get the baby’s things?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said.
So soon, she wanted to cry. Give yourself a chance to grieve. But she could see he was in a hurry, though she wasn’t certain why, and she didn’t have a good feeling about it. ‘That will be fine, Ron,’ she said. ‘Whatever is convenient for you.’
‘All right,’ he said. Abruptly he stood up. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘But you just got here,’ she said, following him to the door.
‘I can’t stay. I can’t talk. It’s not you. I can’t talk to anyone. I’ll see you over at the house,’ he said.
‘You don’t have to talk. Just let me keep you company,’ she said. She hardly knew him, but he seemed like such a decent man. And his suffering was so vivid to her.
‘No. No, I can’t,’ he said, his voice breaking. He got up and stalked to the door before she could delay him.
Where are you going in such a hurry, she wondered. It was as if he was trying to settle everything quickly. Get it out of the way. There was a recklessness about his grief that scared her. He rushed off into the darkness, with Dena calling after him to take care.