Southern Fried (11 page)

62 Rob Rosen

head. Or maybe it was just a single major one: a brother.

Only, it wasn’t Beau that entered a short while later, it was

Pearl and Granny’s lawyer. And neither one of them looked all

that happy. In fact, Pearl was swinging her head from left to right

and then back again.

“Uh oh,” I managed, my gulp repeating. “What, they wouldn’t

let you in to see him?”

Mister Newman echoed Pearl’s headshake. “No one to see,

Trip. He was never arrested.”

“But they took him away,” I retorted. “We all saw it.” The

others nodded in unison.

He frowned. “They took him away because he was making a

scene. But they didn’t arrest him. They asked him where he lived

and dropped him off there instead.”

My smile returned. “So we’ll go to wherever that is and

straighten this all out. Divvy up the property.”
Go to the beach and

build us some sand castles, like brothers are supposed to do
.
Toss a ball
around.
Only, I didn’t say that, as much as I was thinking it.

But still his head shook. “They gave me the address, Trip. It’s

not his. Just an apartment building, and he’s never lived there;

I checked. The manager never heard of him or recognized my

description of him.” His head stopped shaking, a glimmer of a

forced grin rising northward on his wizened face. “But don’t you

worry, son; we’ll find him. After all, we have a name to go on.”

“And a lineage,” I couldn’t help but add. “We know he’s

somehow related to Granny. That should help in locating him.

Offer some sort of trail.”

He nodded, half-heartedly. “It could, yes.” Then he paused,

that glimmer flickering out. “Only, I’ve known your grandmother

for decades now, Trip. Drew up hundreds of documents for her.

And I never heard her mention the name Pellingham before. My

guess, however he’s related to you, if he is in fact related to you, it

will be hard to dig up the information. With no names of parents

or a social security number to go on, we’ll just have to find every

Beau Pellingham we can and hope one of them is him.”

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63

I groaned. “Though it’s hard to dig something up that’s

buried, especially when it’s now at least six feet under, right along

with the person that buried it.”

Mister Newman touched fingertip to nose. “Exactly, Trip.

But I’ll do my best. And at least we have a name. And your

grandmother’s name. That should help.”

Except, with Granny’s wealth and her vast resources, I wasn’t

holding my breath. The woman had a reason for hiding Beau

and it wasn’t going to be a roll in the hay finding out what that

reason was. In other words, it wouldn’t only be Mister Newman

looking. I’d taken an extended leave of absence from my job,

already knowing there would be a good chance I wouldn’t be

returning. Not that I shared that information with my boss, but

at least he wasn’t expecting me back any time soon. Meaning, I

had some time, some time to find this Beau person.

“Thank you, sir,” I eventually told him. “Any help you can

offer would be greatly appreciated.”

His smile returned. “I know that, Trip. I know that. Besides, I

have to find him. As the executor to your grandmother’s will, it’s

my duty. He has to be made aware of his inheritance.”

“And of me,” I couldn’t help but add. “If he’s as unaware of

all this as I am.” Which could made sense, explain his animosity

toward me at the funeral. Maybe he didn’t know that he was

related to me. Or to Granny.

Mister Newman nodded. “Of course, Trip. And make sure

he’s aware of you.”

One by one they left the room, with just me and Pearl

remaining. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at me.

“Even in death that old woman is one giant pain in my equally

giant rear end.” She sighed. “Why wait until she was dead to

spring all this on you, boy? Just doesn’t make sense.”

My sigh echoed hers. “Nope. No it doesn’t. Unless she

was planning on telling me and just didn’t get around to it. Or

unless she couldn’t. Not that that makes any sense either.” I fell

backward, my head hitting the soft down pillow. “Five more

64 Rob Rosen

minutes, Pearl. That’s all I wish I had. Five more minutes with

her to straighten all this out. And to thank her for all she did for

me.” A tear welled up in my eye. I wiped it away, only to have it

joined by another and yet another, a trickle turning to a stream.

Pearl kissed my salty cheek. “Don’t work that way, sugar. Still,

when the Good Lord closes one door, sometimes he truly does

open up a window.”

“Beau being the window,” I said.

“Beau,” she repeated. “The next best thing to your granny.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. “But how do I find

him, Pearl? If, I mean, that lawyer can’t. After all, no one knows

who Beau is, right?” She didn’t reply, just breathed along with me.

I popped my eyes open and looked her way. “Right?”

Again her hand found mine. She gave it a squeeze. “I was

hired just before you was born, sugar. I only know what came

after you.”

Again I closed my eyes, moaned, grimaced. I knew what she

was getting at. And it didn’t bode well for the likes of me. No sir,

not one bit. “Jeeves,” I coughed out. “He was here just before

you were hired.”

“By a few years, Trip,” she agreed. “And that Beau feller

looked to me to be only a few years older than you. If ’n anybody

knows who he is, how he’s related to you, it’s Jeeves.”

“If he’s willing to talk,” I quickly amended.

“And that’s a big if,” she agreed. “You ain’t at the very top of

his Christmas list now, boy.”

“If I ever was.” Again I looked her way. “Think I could offer

to fuel up all those cars of his in exchange for some information?”

She answered my question with one of her own. “Think your

granny would’ve had someone working for her for thirty years

that could be so easily bribed?”

I shook my head. “Doubtful,” I replied. “So what are you

suggesting?”

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65

She smiled. “Only that you get more flies with honey than

vinegar.”

Again I groaned. “Except I doubt Jeeves has much of a sweet

tooth, Pearl.”

Her smile widened. “But maybe
Walter
does.”

“Meaning, that honey may be easier to swallow with a big

heaping spoonful of my pride?”

She stood up and straightened out her skirt. “Oh, Trip, I think

you’ll need something more than just honey for this mission; time

to break out the big guns.” And with that, she was gone, running

down the stairs in double-time. But still I wasn’t alone.

Zeb popped his head back in when the coast was clear.

“Seems like all our lives got changed today, huh, Trip?”

“You got yourself three horses and a raise,” I replied, with a

smile.

“And you got half a mansion and either a brother or a cousin.”

He shut the door behind him and snuggled in next to me. “That’s

a lot to take in, I reckon.”

I pulled him in close, his head on my shoulder. “Yep. A whole

hell of a lot. And it sure would help if someone knew something

about this Beau Pellingham person.”

He lifted his head and locked eyes with mine, that familiar

burn suddenly let loose within my belly. “Well now, I couldn’t

rightly say it before,” he said, “what with the others being in the

room, and all, but I do know a couple of things.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You do?” I asked, nearly breathless.

“Like what?”

He grinned, clearly glad to be able to help me. “Well, for

starters, I don’t know what sort of work he did for your granny,

but it surely must’ve meant him living here from time to time.”

I jumped up, nearly pushing poor Zeb off the bed. Then I

ran to my dresser and popped open a drawer. “Here, as in this

room?” I asked. “Is this his stuff?” I lifted up a few pairs of

boxers and some socks, which I knew couldn’t have been mine.

66 Rob Rosen

Zeb nodded. “I suppose so. See, the other folks that work

for your granny, they don’t live here. They all go home at night.”

“Except for Jeeves,” I corrected him.

“Nope. When Jeeves has his days off, he has an apartment in

town to go to. Which is where I reckon he stormed off to earlier

today.”

I followed his train of thought. “So, on those nights when he

was off, it was just Granny alone in the mansion. If someone else

was staying here, only she’d know about it.” I paused. “But you

don’t live here, Zeb, so how would you know it?”

He grinned. “Look out your window, Trip; tell me what you

see.”

I did as he said. “The pool,” I replied, my neck craning to the

side. I smiled, big and wide. “And the stables. But you don’t live

in the stables, do you?”

He shook his head. “Only when one of the horses is sick or

foaling. Then I got me a bed in there. And a view of the back

door.”

“And my bedroom window.”

“Yep, that’s right. Saw that Beau feller sneak in a couple of

times, and then, a few minutes later, saw your bedroom lights

pop on. Saw him the next morning, too, sneakin’ right back out

before Pearl or Jeeves came to work. If I only saw him a couple

of times, I figure he was doing it often enough.”

“But that doesn’t mean Granny knew about it,” I told him.

“If he worked for her, he might’ve had a key.”

“True,” he replied. “But it’s still awfully strange. Why would

you want to sneak into the house of your employer? Seems risky,

if you ask me. You could just as easily go to one of those motels

that dot the highway if you needed a cheap place to stay.”

Which meant that Granny knew about it, more than likely.

But how long had that been going on? And why? “But why didn’t

you ever mention it to Pearl or Jeeves, or even Granny, in case he

was sneaking in under their noses.”

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67

He shook his head. “Not my place, Trip. Best to keep to the

business of the stables. And keep my job at the same time. Stick

your nose where it doesn’t belong and you’re bound to smell

something plumb awful.”

Made sense. If Granny was keeping it a secret, his knowing

about it would be a detriment to him. I smiled and hopped back

in bed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Then he smiled. “Well, see, you’re the boss.”

Which sounded sexier than hell. “And what the boss says

goes, huh?” I practically purred.

“Yes, sir,” he purred right on back, my boxers instantly tenting.

I leaned in to kiss him, his lips warm and soft on mine. Then

I pulled away, remembering what he’d said. “Wait, you mentioned

that you knew a couple of things about Beau. His living here

from time to time was one; what was the other?”

His grin went lopsided, a flush of red suddenly riding up his

neck before splashing across both stubbled cheeks. “Well, uh,

he’s… he’s straight. Not that it matters, I suppose. Just something

I, uh, I know about him.”

I nodded and kissed him again. “You hit on him, huh?”

His nod matched mine. “Tried too, anyway.” His smile rose

north. “Unsuccessfully, I might add.”

“No harm, no foul,” I told him, tickling his chin. “He is nice

looking.”

“Well, he’s related to you, so, of course he is.”

Related to me. The very notion made my head swim.

Thankfully, I hadn’t had any deviant thoughts about him. Well,

overly-deviant thoughts, at any rate. Well, any more deviant than

usual, I mean. Okay, okay, no judgments here; not like I knew we

were related at the time. Not like now. Now all my thoughts are

wholesome. Except for the ones related to Zeb, especially once

his ass suddenly found its way up to my mouth. Suddenly. Well,

maybe with a little help from me, but, come on, I am only human.

And fast, too, because I knew what Pearl was up to and I knew

68 Rob Rosen

what I’d be up to as soon as she was finished. Meaning, we were

both spewing in record time.
Kapow
!

He made it out the door barely a few minutes before Pearl’s

return. “You okay, boy?” she asked, huffing from her walk up the

staircase.

I grinned. “Sure, Pearl, why do you ask?”

She looked at me with her head tilted to the side, her eyes in

a squint. “You look flushed, is all. You sure you don’t have no

fever? Maybe still in shock or something?”

In fact, I was relaxed down to my very toes, thanks to a certain

stable boy. “Probably just hot in here, I suppose. Not used to all

this, uh, southern heat.”

She smiled and handed me a tinfoil-wrapped bowl. “Then too

bad you’s about to go from out of the frying pan and into the

fire.” She chuckled. “Just thank the Good Lord for that secret

weapon you got there.”

I breathed in, the familiar aroma taking me back a decade or

so. “Now we gotta pray that the way to a man’s heart really is

through his stomach.”

“While you’re at it,” she couldn’t help but add, “better pray

he’s got himself one. A heart, I mean. Can’t recall ever running