Southern Fried (14 page)

dumbfounded.

“Because,” he replied. “The Pellinghams are some powerful

people. Even your granny would’ve had to cow down to them.

If none of this shit is making sense, and it sure as hell isn’t, then

I’d say there are some forces working behind the scenes to make

sure it stays that way. Plus, and this is a big old plus, that Robert

E. ain’t nothing but trouble, and, from what I hear, he was even

worse thirty years ago, about the time Beau was born. Add it all

up and this not making sense thing starts to make a bit of sense.”

“Or not,” I threw in.

He chuckled. “Or not. Still, it’s a path worth following.”

I nodded. “Only, you didn’t tell me about how it is you know

Senator Pellingham.”

He shook his mop of hair from side to side. “Nope, ain’t

never met the senator.”

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83

I scratched my head. “Okay, tell me about how it is you know

Robert E. Pellingham.”

His head still kept on shaking. “Strike two, Trip.” And a

crooked grin started cracking along his face.

I stared at him until the bulb above my head lit up, bright as a

Christmas tree. “Portnoy!”

“He prefers Port.”

“I’m sure he does.” I poked his leg. “And do
you
prefer Port?”

I could’ve sworn I spotted a flush of red blooming on his

cheeks, but he quickly ducked his head down. “I, uh, I prefer…”

And then he looked up and flashed me the most beautiful smile

this side of the Mona Lisa. “… you.”

Screw it, Leonardo couldn’t have painted anything that

beautiful. I leaned in and pressed my lips up tight to his, a warm

flush spreading across my back. “Ditto,” I whispered into his

mouth, then pulled away. “Now spill.” Because, come on, how

often do you know someone who slept with a senator’s grandson?

Which, of course, put a new thought into my head: how often

do you know someone who slept with a bigoted, Republican,

homophobic, southern senator’s grandson? “Spill,” I repeated,

more eagerly this time.

The crimson spread from his cheeks down his neck. “Had

to go to Savannah. Your granny ordered a custom-made saddle

for her favorite mare. Made a side-trip to the mall, to do some

clothes shopping. Not like there’s a lot of selection out here in

the sticks.”

I couldn’t help but interrupt. “Unless you like plaid. Or

camouflage.”

“Or camouflaged plaid. Exactly. Anyway, Macy’s was having

a one-day sale and I had to Starbucks-up to prepare for the

spending onslaught. By the time I made it to the mall, my teeth

were practically floating.”

“Ah,” I said. “Bathroom pickup.”

He nodded. “Guy was tapping furiously on the floor in the

84 Rob Rosen

urinal next to mine. It was one of those johns without dividers,

so I had me a little look-see.”

“And?”

“And he had a
big
look-see. And I work with horses, so I know

when I see big. Plus, he was, well, sort of handsome. Closeted,

but handsome.”

“And being hung trumps being closeted, right?”

“Especially when there’s an empty stall next to the john you’re

currently jacking over. Not that I usually do such a thing.”

“But hung trumps modesty, too?”

He shrugged. “Bingo. Plus, I knew who he was. Guess he

wasn’t counting on a dude reading
Southern Homes and Gardens
.

Big article on the senator. Family shots. Port included. Not that

I said anything and not that he said anything, of course, but it

helped with the, um,
trumping
.”

I hopped up and got dressed. Dinner would be ready soon.

Zeb did the same. “So, just the one time then? Trump and run?”

He paused, mid-button-up. “Yeah, well, see…”

I stopped, mid-zip. “What, there a nearby Sears crapper I

should know about?” It came out bitchier than I would’ve liked.

Go figure. “I mean, it went beyond the porcelain confines of

Macy’s?”

He walked over and ruffled my hair, bussing me on the cheek.

“Just exchanged cellphone numbers that first time. He’s got an

apartment not far from here, calls me sometimes. Not often. And

not lately. I think I make him nervous. For some folks, like me,

closets are for clothes.”

I forced a non-jealous smile, then scooped him up and

pulled him in. “No sweat, dude,” I whispered, our tongues soon

colliding, swapping some heavy spit. Though it was a sweat. I

mean, yes, it had been just a few days, but I’d gone through a lot

in those few days. And he was pretty much the only bright spot

in them. “Uh, I hate to ask, but…”

He nodded and interrupted. “But you’d like me to call him

southeRn FRied
85

and see what I can find out? He could know about Beau, know

where he is.”

“It’s a big maybe,” I agreed. “But that’s better than a big

nothing. Still, like I said, it’s a lot to ask.”

“Well, you’re not asking, I’m volunteering. Besides, I’m

curious, too. And what if Port doesn’t know he has a half-brother,

the same half-brother you have. Just doesn’t seem right.”

To which I added, “But what if he does know and nobody’s

told Beau. What are the odds of being related to two such

powerful, old southern families and never knowing about it?

Seems like a cruel twist of fate. Especially when you’re picking

peaches for a living.” The very thought made me want to find

Beau all that much more. It wasn’t just about me finding a

brother; it was about making sure he got what was coming to

him. “But how are you gonna do it? I mean, do you guys even,

uh, talk when you get together to, uh, you know, get together?”

I was trying to give him a visual with my fingers, and I think he

got the gist.

“I’ll figure something out, Trip. Maybe bring along some

of them boiled peanuts. Seems like they entice the shit out of

people.” He pointed to my obvious overkill in the purchasing

department.

And it was then that that bulb over my head went super nova,

an idea to put into play. I quickly filled him in on what I was

thinking, and then he skedaddled, him out the back, me down

the stairs, the aroma of something wonderful drawing me in like

a coon to a trashcan, as Granny used to say.

“What are we having?” I asked, already pulling up a chair and

sucking down some sugary-sweet lemonade.

“Pork chops, sweet potatoes, and corn on the cob,” she

replied over her shoulder, pulling the pork chops out of the oven,

the aroma washing over me like a flood. She turned around and

smiled at me. “Everything go okay over there at the lion’s den?”

I laughed. “What, Jeeves? Ain’t nothing but a little, old pussy

cat.”

86 Rob Rosen

She snickered and shot me a look that said she knew better.

“Old, maybe. But that’s about all you got right in that there

statement. Don’t tell me he’s gonna help you.”

I nodded. “And come back to work here. Said he’d miss you

something fierce otherwise.”

Again she snickered, plating the food. “Boy, if ’n you’re trying

to pull the wool over my eyes, ain’t enough sheep in the whole

damned county. Now fess up.”

So fess up I did, in between ravenous chomps on that

stupendous dinner of hers, leaving out most, but not all, of the

Zeb/Port assignation.

“Still not adding up, though,” she said. “Like you mentioned,

your granny knew the senator, and Robert E. was a fine hunk of

cheese for your mama to nibble on, let me tell you, but why is

that child of theirs pickin’ peaches? There’s plenty of rooms for

kin in the mansion. Plenty of money, too. And a brother waiting

for him. And I gotta say, if ’n that Beau knew he was a senator’s

grandson or your granny’s for that matter, he sure as shit wasn’t

acting like it.”

“How did he act?” I asked, stopping midway across the ear of

corn, melted butter dripping down my fingers.

“Like the help,” she replied, “the few times I done had words

with him. And your granny treated him as such, too.” She shook

her head. “And she must’ve known about him. Knew he was her

grandson all along. But how can that be?”

I set the corn down. “Jeeves is gonna help me tomorrow.

Maybe we can find an address for Beau. Hopefully, he has

some of the answers, a piece to the puzzle that’s gone missing.”

I picked up the ear again, and just as a side comment, asked,

“Don’t suppose you know the senator, do you?”

“Well, now that you mention it,” she replied.

“Not you, too?” I couldn’t help but utter.

She laughed. “Nope, not me, too. Met that old fool once.

Only thing black that he likes is his limos. But now Roy, Roy

southeRn FRied
87

knows the senator. Used to work for him.”

“Roy the gardener?” I asked in shock.

“Yup. Roy worked over at the senator’s mansion in Charleston.

Him and his father before him, in fact.”

I pushed the plate away and stared at her, tilting my head

like a confused hound dog. “Then how did he come to work for

Granny?” Suddenly, my stomach knotted. The idea that Beau was

the senator’s grandson was just that, an idea. A coincidence of

names and social strata. But now there was another connection.

And an odd one at that. Not that the pieces fit, mind you, but it

sure as shooting was starting to look like they were all from the

same puzzle. “We’re a couple of hours from Charleston, Pearl.

And second generation gardeners just don’t up and leave their

jobs, I’d think.”

“Nope,” she said. “I reckon not. Guess you’ll just have to

ask Roy.” She stood up and walked over to a drawer. Out came

her address book, and two seconds later she was handing me a

scribbled note. “He only lives twenty minutes from here. Never

been there myself, but it should be easy enough to find.”

I thanked her and we resumed eating. Though my mind was a

million miles away. And then it was merely upstairs. “Something

I forgot to ask you about, Pearl.”

She chewed and swallowed. “What’s that, boy?”

“Granny’s jewelry case. It wasn’t by her bed. Not on the

dresser either.” I chugged down another gulp of lemonade. “I

can’t remember a time it wasn’t in her bedroom. Granny always

kept it close by. Always.”

Pearl stopped eating. “Always is right, boy. You sure about it

being missing?”

I pushed my plate away and stood up. Pearl did the same.

“Let’s go see.”

And that’s just what we did, finding ourselves in Granny’s

bedroom a couple of minutes later. I took the left half of the

room, Pearl the right. We searched the place, high and low. “It’s

88 Rob Rosen

gone, sugar,” Pearl said, plopping down on the bed.

“Could it have been the undertakers?” I thought to ask.

“I suppose,” she told me. “I mean, I wasn’t up here when

they, when they wheeled her out. Just couldn’t bear to see it.” She

shut her eyes. “You understand.”

And I did. I sat next to her and held her hand. “Betty said she

thought it was put away for safekeeping. But if she didn’t put it

away and you didn’t put it away, then who would have? Jeeves?”

She shrugged. “You can ask him tomorrow, but that seems

unlikely, too. If ’n he did it, he would’ve given it to Betty or

myself. No, Trip. I got me a feeling that it was taken on purpose.

Everyone in this house knew how valuable your granny’s jewelry

was. Guess someone figured, with her gone, no one would miss

it. Least not right away.”

Suddenly, that lemonade went sour in my belly. “You think

any of the staff could’ve done it?”

She frowned and squeezed my hand. “Do I hope not? Yes.

Do I think one of them could’ve done it?” Her frown deepened.

“Yes, I suppose so. Those jewels are worth a lot of money, and

it was before the will was read, too. Before they knew what they

had coming to them.”

I leaned back on my elbows and stared up at canopy. “I hope

who did it is feeling pretty guilty now, seeing as how she took

such good care of all of them in the end.” And it was then I

remembered the second thing I’d discovered missing in her room.

Meaning, I kicked off my sneakers and hopped up on the bed.

Pearl looked at me like I was crazy. “What’s got into you, boy?

You trying to stir up the dead? ‘Cause I wouldn’t if I was you.”

She swatted my leg.

I stared down at her as my fingers traced the place where the

wood met the fabric. “I’m not trying to wake the dead, Pearl,” I

told her, kicking her hand away with my foot. Though jumping

on Granny’s bed was a sure bet for at least riling the dead up.

“Granny hid something up here before she died. I found a ripped

piece of her stationary up here the other day.”

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89

She shook her head. “Stop it, boy.” This time she grabbed for

my leg. “Just for a second, stop it.” I stopped my searching. She

continued. “Look how you’re reaching up there boy. Takes the

whole length of you.”

“And?” I asked.

She sighed. “And how tall was your granny, Trip?”

I dropped my hands to my side. “Oh.”