Stone de la Bru Familia

by Peter Mack

  "You okay baby?" Mabel asked, she herself turning to what held Stone's attention.

  "The body of a woman was found bound and gagged behind a Santa Monica motel in the early morning. Here is Max Stump on the scene with more…" the distinguished, proper sounding man said. The screen was next filled with on-the-scene coverage.

  A wiry white man stood in an alley, behind him the muted windows of a motel high above. "The Vista View Motel has been declared a crime scene as detectives investigate the murder of a woman down here," he said, gesturing to a trash bin.

  "Oh my goodness" Mabel was saying as Keasha answered the phone.

  "Waddup?" Stone said, his eyes on his mother as she turned to him. A hollow feeling sunk to the bottom of his stomach. This hollowness was made of anger and pain.

  "You see the news, Stone?" Keasha asked, her voice trembling like smoke after a fire.

  “Yeah," he replied, becoming acutely aware of the similarities between Misty's murder and the murder of Serena's mother, Candi. It had to be the same guy.

  "That's crazy. She was just over here with Ebony," Keasha sighed. Silence followed her words as the reporter went on to say that no leads exist, but that it was oddly similar to the recent murder of another woman.

  "She was with Ebony," he said as if talking to himself, remembering running into them at Keasha's house. Maybe Ebony knew something. "Ey. Let me get back with you," he said into the phone.

  "Okay. Call me back.”

  "Awright." Stone was aware of his mother's eyes on him even though she'd busied herself by moving a dish from one part of the kitchen to the other. She lifted the rest of the salmon from the frying pan and turned off the heat.

  "You okay baby?" she asked finally after Stone sat silent, his eyes fixed at a spot over the television. He felt powerless and angry.

  "I will be," he said in a low voice as he slid from the high stool.

  He walked slowly towards the staircase. He had to get in the street. Nothing could be solved here. He had to be at the scene of the crime, something he failed to do when Candi was murdered. Behind him Mabel wrapped his food in foil and placed it in the oven.

  Chapter Eight

  Serena was suffering from a stomach ache when it was time to get up for school. She'd complained just enough for Stone to believe her, and since it was Friday, he let her stay home.

  “But don't you have some test to take?” he asked while sitting on the edge of her bed, his palm on her forehead.

  "Unh unh," she nodded in her best sick voice, her dull-bright eyes shuttered to a thin sparkling line of bronze. Her skin was cool to the touch.

  "You're not hot."

  "My tummy," she complained with a wince.

  "Momma got some medicine for that she used to give me. It's kind of nasty though,” Stone tested, the bright sun creeping through her bedroom window. The smell of Jimmy Dean sausages wafted through the air. The kitchen was in full operation mode to begin a new day.

  "Is the beautiful little missus sick?" Lillian asked, prancing into the brightly decorated bedroom like a breeze of lilac scented air.

  Stone resisted the urge to look to his sister, instead keeping his attention on Serena, noting how she pushed back her excitement with Lillian's entry. He suspected that she wasn't really sick at all.

  "My tummy," Serena groaned, though not wincing as hard as she had before.

  "So, I guess we're going to have to get your teacher to email your tests, hunh?" Stone said while Lillian tooked up space on the other side of the bed and began clearing Serena's cool forehead of imaginary silk strands of hair. He watched as Serena debated whether or not to protest getting her tests emailed.

  "She's too sick to go to school. How is she going to take a test?" Lillian said, renewing her caring strokes upon Serena's forehead.

  "I'm about to get that medicine from mama. She gon’ be straight in the minute," Stone assured as he stood from the bed.

  As he left the room he heard Serena ask if that tummy medicine was really nasty. He stopped just outside the door to listen as Lillian assured her that it wasn't very nasty at all.

  "Momma. Where that stomach medicine at?" Stone wanted to know, emerging from the hallway and finding his mother in the kitchen making breakfast.

  "Is that angel oaky?" Mabel responded as she flipped a sausage over in the pan.

  "She's faking, but I'm giving her this medicine anyway."

  Mabel pressed her lips together and gently rolled her eyes, secretly proud of her son’s parental instincts. "It's in the bathroom cabinet."

  "Cool . She'll think twice before a stomach-ache next time. Oh, and remind me to call her teacher to get her test work emailed."

  Mabel stopped to look at her son, sausages sizzling on the stove.

  "You'd really make your father proud. Lord, rest his soul," she said with a sincere smile.

  Stone allowed her love to wash over him before he said, "I think I'm doing the right thing."

  Mabel seemed to consider this slowly as she looked into her son's dark brown eyes. "Well, you prayed on it right?"

  "Yeah."

  "And then you decided to take responsibility for her, right?"

  "Yep."

  "Well, don't question what God has intended for us. He put that girl in your life for a reason. Don't question why. Only the Lord knows."

  Stone stood at the edge of the kitchen. The dining room was two steps to his left and then another left turn would lead him into the hallway where the bathroom was.

  "I don't think Coretta is really happy with it," he noted in a low voice. He didn't want Lillian to hear this. She would badger him and try to get into the whys and why nots.

  "Wait. Are you asking me if you're doing the right thing in marrying Coretta or adopting Serena?"

  Stone hesitated before he replied. "Both." Mabel turned to pluck the remaining sausages from the frying pan.

  "Coretta," she said as if to herself. "She's a nice enough girl." She looked to him now after cutting the flame off under the pan. "Is she the kind of woman you could see yourself growing old with?"

  He shrugged. "Yeah. I mean… She's everything good in a woman…"

  "But?"

  "Momma," he intoned. "I'm a little grimy. Sometimes I might have to get low and she don't really understand that side of me."

  Mabel nodded in understanding. "You think she's a little jealous of the other women in your life and your dedication to them?" Mabel knew exactly what the business was. She also understood that Stone wasn't the type to have many girlfriends, but he did have plenty women friends that could easily be seen as sisters and business partners.

  "EXACTLY!" Stone whispered through clenched teeth. "She'd be on me about who and where and all the details! I be like… Am I supposed to feel like she's in my business or do she have a right to be in it like that?"

  Mabel took a step in Stone's direction as the doorbell rang. "Have that conversation with her. Tell her how you feel. And see how she responds son. It's all about communication. She loves the fact that you’re loyal. She just needs to be reassured that she is enough for you."

  "I'll get that momma. I'm hungry," Stone said, placing his hand in the crook of her elbow as she tried to move by him. He leaned over to kiss her hot cheek.

  "That's real talk right there." he said before spinning from her and striding through the dining room and living room. On the way he yelled for Lillian to grab the medicine out the bathroom cabinet.

  "Stop that helling in my house!" Mabel called back from the edge of the kitchen as she watched Stone reach the front door.

  Stone wondered if his mother was applying for some type of insurance when he opened the front door and saw a fat white man in a suit. He stood looking out to the street, unaware that Stone had opened the door.

  He couldn't see Stone behind the one-way white grated screen door. Stone studied him closer and finally placed him as a detective. The blonde Army-cut and patent leather tasseled loafers gave him away.

  The pas
ty faced white man looked blindly towards the screen door, his eyes squinting for a shadow or outline, when Mabel asked who was at the door.

  "Who is it?" Stone asked suddenly.

  "Um… I'm with the Los Angeles Police Department." He was at a disadvantage because he could not see who he was talking to. He reached into his pocket, exposing the butt of his gun, to lift a small notepad from an inner pocket. He flipped over several pages before he settled on one.

  Stone looked to his mother and said, "It's the police."

  "Yes. Here we go. I'm looking for a Mr. Stone Sweetwater," the policeman said.

  "Who's looking for him?" Stone asked just as Mabel stepped beside him. She'd taken off her cooking apron and smoothed away the loose strands of long dark hair, tucking them into the body of her ponytail.

  "Yes," the white man smiled to the white screen. "I'm Detective Briggs. This is concerning one of his, Mr. Sweetwater's tenant at the apartment building he owns on Robertson Boulevard." He stopped to see if this bit of information would open the screen door and give him a visual of who he was talking to. His eyes moved in a way that was hopeful, yet humble.

  Stone didn't want to answer any questions nor did he want the detective to get a look at him. Mabel stood silently next to her son, following his lead.

  "What do you need to know?" Stone asked.

  “Well… We simply have some questions regarding a woman who was murdered a couple days ago. She lived at Sweetwater Manor. We'd like to ask Mr. Sweetwater a few questions about her. Maybe he can help us find out who killed her."

  "Where was she killed at?" Stone asked, thinking maybe the detective would give him an answer other than the alley where she was found.

  Detective Briggs straightened a little, his head lifting from its balanced posture. His blue eyes flashed, undoubtedly feeling disrespected at being kept in a blind position.

  "And with whom am I speaking?"

  Mabel nudged Stone in a way to tell him that it was his responsibility to be forthcoming. There was no sense in hiding from the police if he didn't have to. There was no shame in answering a few legitimate questions.

  Stone reached for the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The detective looked to him with severe calculation. What he saw was the diamond encrusted medallion swinging from his young neck. It may have cost his salary for the past ten years. His eyes scanned across the "Live Rich Die Ready" and he no doubt associated the gold star and crescent with Islam. When he looked to Stone's eyes he'd made his judgment, but it was not the one he soon learned suited Stone better.

  "I'm Stone Sweetwater," he said, standing before the detective on the porch. It was going to be a good day, Stone thought to himself as he felt the warmth of the sun wash across him. Mabel stood between the space of the open screen door.

  The surprise of Stone's announcement forced a crooked grin to spread on the thin lips of Detective Briggs. "Well," he hedged, those beady blue eyes shifting to Mabel for some sign that this was some sort of joke.

  Stone relaxed his focus and looked out to the street where tall trees gathered the sun and dispersed it along the shaded sidewalk. The white man's Chevy Malibu was parked at the curb.

  "My mom is cooking breakfast," Stone said as a reminder to the white man that he was on borrowed time.

  "Yeah. Smells good, too," the detective responded, rolling onto the balls of his feet. At this Mabel closed the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  "Okay. Well. I suppose my first question is if you noticed anything strange around the… Around your building leading up to Wednesday night?"

  "Naw. I don't spend a lot of time over there," Stone replied.

  He thought to ask the white man if he knew who was investigating the murder of Candi and if he thought that this might have something to do with it, but decided against this. He didn't like police. Sure, he liked the protection they offered regular people, but he wasn't regular and didn't need his protection or service.

  Detective Briggs nodded. "Yeah. I spoke with your manager yesterday afternoon. She says she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary." He gazed at a spot above Stone’s head before looking back to him and asking, "Were you very close to her?"

  "Naw. She was just a tenant. I didn't know she lived there until just now."

  "Really?"

  "Her name ain’t on none of the rent receipts."

  The fat head nodded again. "She lived in number four, right?" His eyes squinted with this question as if it was hard to ask.

  Stone saw through him right away. "I don't know. I'll have to ask the manager."

  "Oh, yeah. That's right. I believe…" He looked to his notes. "She lived with a Mr. Gerald Hopson. Know him?"

  "Just the name. You have to ask the manager for anything more specific," Stone reiterated.

  "Yeah," Detective Briggs breathed out. I suppose you don't know her movements from way over here."

  He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white business card. "If you have any questions or any information that might be helpful…" he trailed off as Stone took the card from his fingers and stepped to the side.

  "No problem," Stone said, flipping the card through his fingers and creasing it down the middle.

  Detective Briggs was halfway down the steps when he turned and asked, "You really own that building, hunh?"

  "Yeah."

  "You can’t be more than twenty five. Somebody leave it to you?"

  "Yeah," Stone responded, knowing that if the white man knew he bought it with his own hard earned flock money there would be a giant telescopic lens trained on him.

  "That's what I figured," the detective said, satisfied, and ambled on down the walkway.

  "That's a strange white man. He look like a real pig," Mabel said and giggled low.

  "Yeah," Stone replied, lost in thought about how he could find out who killed Misty.

  He remembered that Keasha said she'd been with Ebony. And Ebony said that Misty was with Heather, a tenant in his building, earlier on the evening of Misty's death. Heather might know something, he reasoned as he was about to turn into the house.

  “That look like the social worker," Mabel said before she stepped into the house ahead of Stone.

  He looked back out to the street where a brand-new Volvo sedan was pulling to the curb. She parked in the spot that the detective had just vacated.

  "I'm going to finish breakfast. You inviting her in to eat?" his mother asked.

  "Naw, ma. This won't be long. She should be dropping off the papers for Serena to stay," he said as the thin dark woman rounded the back of her car and navigated the high curb in Jimmy Choo heels.

  She got her walk together for the concrete runway to the porch, aware that Stone's eyes were on her. He had to admit that the linen suit fit her slim frame nicely. All it took was a little digging to find out the career and marriage-ending secret in her closet. She had stuff hidden that could send her to jail. She would be valuable to Stone for a long time.

  "Good morning," she greeted breathlessly, smiling with perfect white teeth.

  "Good morning yourself," he replied, wanting to ask why it was that black women wore purple eye-shadow. It only made her look like a carnival character. He wanted to tell her that she didn't need it.

  "This is for you," she said, handing over the plain manila envelope she'd been pressing against her small breasts. "That's two birth certificates. One man. One woman. Mid-twenties just like you requested."

  Stone opened the folder and found two birth certificates and social security cards.

  "And here is what you need for Serena." She now handed over a blue folder. "There will be a court date in two weeks. Here I will give my testimony as to whether or not I think Serena is currently living in a safe and stable environment. Just a formality," she assured him.

  Stone flipped through the official documents. There were forms to fill out which named him as Serena's legal guardian and guidelines to his rights and obligations pertaining to guard
ianship.

  "Is that what you wanted?" she asked.

  "Exactly. Thanks."

  "You mind if I ask you a personal question, Mr. Sweetwater?"

  "What's that?"

  She peered into his eyes. "Why is Serena so important to you?"

  Stone looked to the branches of the high tree at the curb. A slow breeze swept through them, brushing the limbs gently. He turned slowly to the woman before him. He wondered what made her ask the question. He thought of the pictures he saw of her cavorting with a man that wasn't her husband.

  It was obvious to him that what the social worker cared for most was herself. This was why it was so easy to blackmail her into ensuring that he got custody of Serena and providing him with a fresh identity for Brock James and his woman, Traci.

  "She just is," he responded before taking a step towards the door. "See you at court," he added.

  "Is my secret safe with you?" she wanted to know, looking up at him as he stood at the screen door, his hand on the handle.

  "Mrs. Cartwright… As long as you do as I say." He said this with a straight face, knowing that she misjudged his youth and connections.

  "Fair enough. Can I call on you when I need you?”

  Stone gave this quick consideration. It was always good to have a friend with access. "Holla if you need me," he replied with a head nod.

  Mrs. Cartwright smiled, her cheekbones rising to make her eyes tight.

  "Thanks. Have a great day! Give Serena my best!" she called as she stepped away from the porch with a jaunty stride.

  Serena was at the kitchen counter when Stone walked back into the kitchen. She looked to him with a tight smile, her lips not allowing her mouthful of scrambled eggs to spill out. He could tell she was swinging her legs beneath the counter because the top half of her body rocked subtly with the joy of a good breakfast.

  "Your tummy ache gone?" he asked, handing the folder off to his mother, who stepped away from the plate of sausages, eggs, hash-browns and biscuits she was preparing for him.

  "Aunt Lillian gave me some medicine. It wasn't nasty!" she teased, glad of the taste.

  "It was nasty to me," he replied as he moved to the sink to wash his hands.