Every so often, his friend would give him a call. All he had to do was find good enough merchandise, then make the drop. That’s how he’d bought the chill spot. Calling it his house would be more appropriate if he had more than a couch, a love seat, and television in the living room. The rest of the house was void of furniture.
Just as Joey’s sneakers hit the porch step, Daryl pulled up in a utility van. He honked to get his attention.
Joey turned, looking out toward the street through beaming rays of sunlight. Quickly throwing his hand up across his eyebrow, shielding his blue eyes from the sun, Joey focused his eyes to see. “Is that you, Dee? How’d you get a car?” He rushed over to see it.
“Bro, whose car is this?” He leaned into the open window resting his arms on the door.
“Don’t worry about that. We’re driving it for now.”
Joey nodded his head in agreement. “Well, check this out. Guess who’s in one of my classes?” He paused with his eyes glued on Daryl, awaiting an answer.
Daryl smacked his lips, already agitated. “I don’t know, man. The fuckin’ tooth fairy? Just tell me.”
“Gertrude,” Joey replied, completely brushing off Daryl’s negative nature.
“And who, may the fuck I ask, is Gertrude?”
“Remember homeboy who handled us in the yard the other day. He had two broads with him. One of them is Gertrude. I think it’s his girlfriend or sister or something. He was staring into the class today, watching her.”
“First of all, I didn’t get ‘handled.’ We got ambushed.”
“Well, let’s get the crew. We’ve already got the whip. We can ride down on him.”
“I’m not telling nobody else about what happened,” Daryl barked. There was no way he’d ruin his reputation by admitting one guy beat him up.
“So, what are we going to do?”
“All right, check this out. I have a pickup and a drop to make. In fact, I think I know just the merchandise to collect for my next payoff.” Daryl had hatched a plan that would kill three birds with one stone.
Chapter 35
Plotting Revenge
While Daryl and Joey were busy ironing out the details of their plans, Ronald thought it best he finds out a little more about his “friend” he’d had the run-in with outside of Gertrude’s chemistry class. Back home, he had access to the school’s computer and security system. All he had to do was pull up the list of students in the class, then cross-reference the name with those assigned school badges. If he was a student there, he had to have an identification badge.
A few clicks followed by a minute of scrolling, and Ronald had found his man. Joey Acolyte, a 20-year-old sophomore from Birmingham, Michigan. He looked him over to make sure it was indeed Joey. Blue eyes, dark brown hair, skinny baby face—there was no doubt in Ronald’s mind. He’d found his next victim.
“He looks guilty,” Cecilia hissed in her brother’s ear.
Ronald kept his eyes fixed on Joey’s image. “He is guilty. And he’s going to pay.”
Late that afternoon, Ronald rolled up the street on his way to pay Daryl and Joey a visit. He liked to survey the land before rushing in. On the way there, something caught his eye. He rolled right past it a million times before but had never connected the dots. It was the same station wagon that was parked at Peggy’s house. Tom’s station wagon was parked there at Laskey Stadium with all the children running about, playing softball, tag, even jumping rope. But what was Tom doing there? Ronald guessed he was up to no good, so he pulled into the parking lot of the recreation center to find out. The urge to kill him had already manifested. It was just a matter of looking him in the eyes and seeing the truth.
As Ronald got out of the car, he could see Tom there helping one of the little girls tie her shoe. The white short-sleeve shirt with the emblem affixed to the breast pocket told Ronald he must have been part of the staff or, at the very least, a volunteer. He walked up, noticing Tom’s hand run down the little girl’s naked calf before tying her shoe. All Ronald could see there in front of him was Cecilia being taken advantage of by the very same man that had abused her in life.
Ronald ran up as fast as he could, launching his boot forward into Tom’s face, knocking out his top row of teeth and painting his uniform shirt crimson. Or at least that was the image that had played out in Ronald’s head as he slowly approached, arm trembling. He wished he had knocked Tom’s entire head off. But he had to consider that there was a hoard of children in the vicinity. Subjecting them to a blood-and-guts murder would be a crime against their innocence. Ronald wouldn’t dare do that.
“You should go and play now,” he instructed, standing directly behind the girl with the pigtails and blue jean dress with suspenders.
Tom looked up at Ronald, trying not to assume the worst. How could he know anything? he thought.
“Go on, sweetie pie.” Tom tapped her frail little arm, ushering her away, then struggled to get to his feet. “Can you help an old guy up?” He held out his hand for assistance.
To which Ronald huffed in defiance, “I’m only going to touch you one time, and now is not that time.”
Tom struggled to his feet, showing more courage. “What are you going on about?” he snarled.
“‘Sweetie pie.’ Is that what you called my dear sister?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re crazy just like Peggy said, ya know that? You need some help. I didn’t touch your sister.”
Tom tried storming off from the conversation, but Ronald wouldn’t hear of it. He grabbed him tight around the bicep, pulling him in closer. “I know what you did to Cecilia that day she snuck inside your house to get candy.”
Tom’s eyes jutted wide open. He couldn’t believe he’d been found out after all these years. He was nearly in the grave. Still, he was getting around good, even living life as he wanted, no matter how sick and twisted a life it was. Tom couldn’t allow his good name to be ruined, not to mention the potential to go to prison. He knew he would never survive there.
“I told you, boy, you need some help. Now, turn me loose before I have to call some of my constituents over to assist me in removing your sorry ass from the premises.” Tom tried snatching away once more; still, Ronald wouldn’t turn him loose.
“I’ll be coming to steal some candy, Tom. You should leave the door open for me,” he threatened before finally releasing him.
Tom couldn’t get away from there and to the safety of the other volunteers fast enough.
Ronald watched him slither away, knowing his time would soon come.
Everything was starting to make sense to him. He thought back to a time he assumed the affliction had already taken place.
Chapter 36
Innocence Stolen
One scorching summer afternoon, Ronald and Cecilia moped, stuck inside cleaning the mess of toys they had scattered about the Doolally residence. They scooped them up little by little, mood sullen from having to complete the arduous task.
“The longer you take to pick them up, the longer you’ll be stuck inside,” Mrs. Doolally advised with a wagging finger.
Her twins frowned but continued their daily chores.
“Can we go swimming once we’re done picking up our mess?”
“Ronald, sweetheart, your father hasn’t had time to clean the pool. I’m sorry. You and your sister can run through the sprinklers in the yard.”
“Anything would be better than sitting in the house all day,” Cecilia groaned.
Ronald peered through the curtain to see the other neighborhood children outside playing tag. “Let’s just get it over with so that we can go outside and play like everybody else.”
“Fine.” Cecilia reluctantly agreed but picked up her pace.
* * *
Tidying up took them about an hour or so. Afterward, the twins got into their bathing suits, then trotted outside.
“Stay in the backyard with Sheba,” Mrs. Doolally instructed as they tore out the side doo
r headed for their backyard.
“Don’t worry, Mama. We’ll stay in the yard.”
Outside, Ronald set up the sprinkler while Cecelia waited alongside the house for her brother to let her know it was safe to turn on the hose.
The little boy twisted on the sprinkler nozzle as tight as he could. “You can turn it on now,” he announced, hopping up off the grass from a kneeling position to run out of the stream’s range.
Cecilia approached in a hurry. “Let’s race.”
Catching her off guard, Ronald took off toward the fence. When it came to him and Cecilia racing, he always needed a head start. “Come on, slowpoke.”
Making it to the fence seconds ahead of his sister, Ronald boasted it would only be the beginning. “I’m taking the title today,” he professed.
The twins raced across the lawn, hopping through the sprinklers time after time. No matter how many, though, Cecilia remained the victor. Both panted, their drenched auburn curls glistening in the sun.
Sheba lay on the sidelines under the shade of the big tree, her tongue hanging from her mouth out onto the grass. She had watched them darting back and forth yet never mustered up the energy to join in.
“Tired of me beating you yet?” Cecilia asked.
Ronald popped a squat near Sheba, caressing her head with the inside of his wrinkled palm. “This is stupid. We should be swimming right now, instead of running through a sprinkler,” he complained with a frown, more so downtrodden because of his losses as opposed to not being able to swim. Then to his delight, he saw it driving by. The swim mobile in all its glory beckoned.
The huge truck pulling a pool behind it often cruised through the inner city, allowing children to swim who didn’t have the privilege of having their own pool. It traveled from block to block in intervals of thirty minutes, awarding the children the experience.
“It’s going around the corner! If we go now, we can catch it.”
Cecilia’s chest sank inward, her shoulders upright. “Mama said we have to stay in the yard.”
Ronald could tell what he had proposed made her uncomfortable, but there was no way he was going to keep losing against her at racing. “Since when did you become a Goody Two-shoes? It’s just around the block. What’s the big deal? Are you afraid of the big kids that live around the corner?”
“I’m not afraid of anyone,” she rebutted.
“Prove it.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “We should take Sheba with us so she doesn’t start barking when we leave.”
“Good idea.” Ronald hopped up, then proceeded to grab Sheba’s leash from the side of her doghouse out back. “We’ll tie her to the fire hydrant so that she doesn’t run off.”
Ronald fitted Sheba with the leash while Cecilia kept lookout just in case their mother emerged.
“Come on, girl. Wanna go for a walk?” Ronald attempted to rile up the unenthused pup as he attached the leash to her collar.
Out of nowhere, the bedroom window in the back of the home lifted. Mrs. Doolally popped her head out, checking on her twins. “Are you two having fun in the sprinkler?”
“I beat Ronald five times already,” Cecelia admitted excitedly.
Her mother smiled softly. “You two are always in competition. Can’t you just play without there being a winner or loser?”
“Somebody has to lose,” Cecilia admitted.
“What makes you think so?”
“Dad said we can’t all be winners.”
“Well, your dad should have also told you that sometimes you have to lose a lot in order to start winning.” She looked up, giving her boy a wink.
Ronald cheesed, somehow feeling better about the fact that he had failed epically.
“You two have fun, and remember to be kind to each other. Someday, when your father and I are gone, you’ll be all each other has.” Mrs. Doolally closed the window on their awed expressions. Neither of them ever wanted to consider losing their parents.
Ronald broke the silence first. “Come on, Cecilia. Let’s go. Mom will be back to check on us in about thirty minutes.”
They rushed out of the gate barefoot, straddling the fence along the alleyway to avoid the sharp rocks threatening to slice the soles of their feet. Sheba trotted alongside them, tail wagging.
They made their way around the corner to Dwyer Street, and there it sat parked in the middle of the block. “There it is, Cecilia. The swim mobile,” Ronald exclaimed, dashing up the street ahead of her.
“Ronald, wait for me.”
“Come on. You can keep up any other time,” he rebutted, continuing to rush that way.
Cecelia lagged behind. The entire time, her eyes were glued on the house where the swim mobile had parked. Her lids widened as the man with the hole in his throat came out on his front porch to see what all the commotion was about.
Other children dashed up the block to climb up, then into the mobile pool.
The gentleman sat down in his wooden rocking chair, watching the children frolic about.
Her eyes started to well up with tears until she saw what he had begun glaring at so intensely. His eyes studied the little boy as he wrapped the dog leash over the fire hydrant next door.
Cecelia darted toward him. “Ronald, let’s get in,” she urged, tugging at his arm.
“All right. All right, I’m coming. Stay here, Sheba. Be a good girl,” he instructed the patient pup.
Cecilia turned back, grimacing, in hopes her expression was threatening enough for Tom to look away.
The entire time swimming in the four-foot-deep contraption, all she could think about was all the things he had done to her. Those heinous acts he had committed that she could never reveal haunted her every day since. Anger that festered began brewing as screams erupted from the other children splashing about.
That’s when another little boy splashed Cecilia in the eyes with a wave of water. “Hey, stop it,” she screeched, wiping the water from her stinging eyes.
By the time she had regained her sight, the little boy had turned to splash other unsuspecting children. Without another thought, she leaped up halfway out of the water, bringing her hand down atop his bushy Afro, forcing him under the water. Cecilia held the boy there as he struggled to breathe. He tried snatching her hands away, but she had a good wad of his hair clenched tight in her fist. It wasn’t until Ronald witnessed what was going on that the incident veered from the path of imminent danger.
He swam over just in time, grabbing her by the arm. “Stop it, Cecilia. What are you doing?” Ronald implored.
“He splashed me in the eyes on purpose,” she explained as she released him from the death hold.
The boy came up, taking in a deep heave of oxygen. “Are you crazy? You could have killed me!”
“Come on, Cecilia. We’re going home,” Ronald replied, not wanting the dispute to go further than it already had.
They never talked about the incident after that, nor did their parents ever find out they had ventured around the corner.
* * *
In Ronald’s mind, there was no doubt that Tom had committed horrible crimes against children, including his twin sister.
Chapter 37
Protecting What’s His
Across town, Brenda and Gertrude stopped to have gyros for lunch on Woodward Avenue. Brenda was still pretty upset that Tiffany hadn’t contacted her or come to the house. She started to consider the fact that maybe her cousin was hiding out from the police. “What if I never see her again?” Brenda feared as she bit into her sandwich, Ranch dripping down the side of her mouth.
“Girl, you can’t have a shirt full of tears and Ranch,” Gertrude remarked, reaching across the table to hand Brenda a napkin.
She accepted the offering. “I know. I’m a mess. I just don’t know what to do without Tiffany in my life. All this time, they thought it was her that needed me, but, in fact, it was me that needed her. I just wish she would come home or at the very least call. I just need to know she’s okay.�
��
“I hope she calls too, Brenda. I sure miss her crazy butt.”
They both chuckled a little, hoping for the best. Still, their smiles dimmed almost immediately.
“Don’t worry, Brenda. She’ll call. Just give it some time for the heat to die down.”
Gertrude consoled her friend, having no idea that Daryl and Joey had walked through the doors.
The two men squeezed by other waiting customers to take a seat at the counter.
“That’s them right there, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, the one with the dreads is Tiffany’s cousin.”
“Well, Tiffany’s the reason this bullshit fell on our doorstep, so guess who’s going to pay the price first?”
They sat staring at the girls as the waitress walked up to deliver menus to them.
* * *
It was around eight o’clock at night when Ronald rang the doorbell as he stood on the front porch. In seconds, the door flew open. Gertrude didn’t want whoever it was to ring again and risk waking Aunt May, who remained wound up over Peggy’s disappearance. Gertrude had to make her a pot of chamomile tea just to get her to fall asleep.
“Ronald, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.” Gertrude fluffed her hair, hoping her curls weren’t too frizzy.
“You don’t have to do that. You like beautiful either way.”
“Thank you,” Gertrude replied, holding open the screen door for him. “Come inside.”
Ronald did as she requested, wiping his feet on the mat as he entered. He kept his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
Gertrude’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Are you nervous about something?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You wiped your feet on the mat for one, and for two, your hands are in your pockets. You look bashful. So, what is it?”
“I think you should stay at my house tonight.”
“Really? What brought this about?”
“We can talk about it once we get next door. Come on. Grab some pajamas. I’ll wait right here,” he instructed.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Gertrude answered with a salute.
Deadliest Intuition Page 17