Southern Fried (15 page)

She waited for me to hop back down and sit beside her again.

“Yeah, oh.” She patted my hand. “I believe you found a piece

of paper up there, sugar, but it wasn’t your granny who put it

up there. Not unless she had a stool on the bed.” She laughed.

“Woman was spry for her age, but she wasn’t that spry.”

“But why?” I asked. “And it was Granny’s stationary. Smelled

like lilacs.”

Pearl nodded and then her eyes lit up. Seems like that bulb

above
her
head must’ve been glowing now, because she all of a

sudden jumped up and ran to the dresser. Then she pulled out a

pink pad of paper. “This stationary?” she asked.

I jumped up and joined her. “That’s the one.”

She smiled, a big Cheshire cat grin. And one that just ate a

canary at that. “Lookee here, Trip. You can see the indent of the

writing that was on the previous page. Maybe from the one that

was stuffed in the canopy.”

I smiled, too, but more because her smile was so damned

infectious. Then I squinted at the blank page. “Little good it does

us. Just a lot of faint lines.”

“Maybe,” she said, setting the pad down before running into

Granny’s bathroom. She returned with a tin of Granny’s blush.

“But maybe not.” She opened the tin and pinched out a tiny wad

of the powder, which she gently sprinkled over the pad. The she

lifted the pad and held it up close to her face. With a little wisp of

her breath, she blew the excess powder off the pad.

We both stared down at it, two sets of eyes growing wide.

See, the faint lines weren’t so faint any longer. It was hard to read

90 Rob Rosen

what was written, but not impossible. I gulped as I read it aloud.

“She’s dead.”

Pearl gulped, too. “That a threat or a statement of fact, Trip?”

I stared at the canopy. “Why stick either up there?”

Her eyes followed mine. “Unless you were passing notes to

someone and you knew that was the one place no one could find

it. And neither Betty, me, or your Granny could reach it.”

“And only the male workers in the house could.” I groaned.

“Not to mention, Beau.” Again we stared at the pad, a tide of

unease set loose in my gut. “But why not just use the phone?”

She set the pad down. “Because phone calls can be traced?”

I nodded. “That, and maybe the two people passing the notes

didn’t normally talk to one another. The notes, then, would be

untraceable, the connections between the two people never

discovered.” But which two people? I wondered to myself.

Pearl snickered. “Untraceable unless you used the finest rose-

colored blush.”

“Imported from France,” I couldn’t help but add, also with

a giggle.

She held the tin up close to her eyes. “From the
south
of

France.”

And my giggle broke out into a full-on laugh. “Never would’ve

bought it from the north.”

“Oh, no, child. Nothing from the north.” She snorted. “Oh,

hell to the friggin’ no.”

I woke up the next morning bright and early. I’d spoken to

Zeb the night before on his cellphone. He was putting our plan

into action, so I’d have to meet up with Jeeves first and try to

see if we could find an address for Beau. If not, then hopefully

we could find something out from Port. I was praying for the

former, because the latter seemed like a long-shot. I mean, even

if he knew something, the odds of him sharing that information

were pretty darn slim. Which is why my plan involved a little

espionage work. Oh, I hear your groaning. And rightly so. Hence

my reason for not blabbing just yet.

I quickly ate breakfast. Well, quick as one can eat hashbrowns,

sausage, bacon, and a three-egg omelet with cheese. Not to

mention a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and two cups

of coffee. And that was a small breakfast for Pearl. Damn if my

jeans weren’t already getting tight.

I met Jeeves just after I finished eating. He was already in

Granny’s study, the filing cabinets open, the computer flicked on.

“Find anything?” I asked, expectantly.

He shook his head and frowned. Least I think he was

frowning, what with that being his usual face and all. “Her ledger

is in the filing cabinet. She paid him in cash. Just says Beau and

three hundred dollars here and there. No records of what he did

for her, only that he got paid monthly, which isn’t all that unusual.

She kept lots of people on the books and called them when she

needed them. This is a big mansion, extensive grounds, and she

frequently required workers of all sorts. Though usually she cut

them checks and paid their taxes.”

“But not Beau?” I asked, knowing we’d failed before I even

asked it.

92 Rob Rosen

“Not Beau,” he replied.

“What about her computer?” I asked, with a glimmer of hope.

“I tried, but it’s password protected and I don’t know the

password. Do you?” he asked, already closing the filing cabinet.

I shook my head, a sob rising up from my chest. On the odd

chance, I called down to the kitchen and asked Pearl. “I’m the

cook, not the accountant,” she said. “Try some of the words she

liked best.”

I sat down at the computer and did just that, trying all the

words that I knew made Granny happy: Savannah, Charleston,

grits, bourbon, southern, Jackson, money, hamhocks, barbeque,

lilac. Then a dozen more. Each time I typed in a word, I got more

depressed. It was hopeless. A lot of things made granny happy.

Then it hit me. I typed it in:
Rebecca
. It was my mom’s name. I

pressed enter.

“Jackpot,” I yipped, the screen filling with her desktop icons.

And, more importantly, her address book. Needless to say, it was

enormous, filled with hundreds and hundreds of names. I scrolled

down to the P’s, my heart pounding in my ears, palms suddenly

sweaty.
Please be here, Beau. Please,
I said to myself. “Pellingham!”

I shouted.

Jeeves leaned in. “Wrong one,” he said. “That’s for the

senator.”

I didn’t let on that I thought there was a connection. “Granny

knows Senator Pellingham?” I asked, instead.

He shrugged and straightened up, moving away from the

computer. “Socially, I suppose. The Jacksons and the Pellinghams

are two fine, old, southern families, Trip. It would, as you well

know, be impossible for them not to know each other.” He

straightened out his vest. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have

work to do.”

Jeeves. He was nothing if not predictable. I should’ve known

that the glimmer of a heart I saw the day before already flickered

out, leaving nothing but a cold lump of coal in its place. I sighed

and waved him off. “Thanks for your help,” I told him, not even

southeRn FRied
93

looking his way.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, icily, and was gone, nothing but

the smell of moth balls left in his wake.

I sat and stared at the screen, moving from folder to folder,

hoping beyond hope that she had a secret stash somewhere,

anything that could help me find Beau. Second to last were her

emails. Only, the inbox was empty. Same for the sent emails.

Empty. With no folders left, I clicked the very last icon, the

garbage. Just to be on the safe side. “Huh,” I said, surprised at

what I’d found. “Empty, too.” And Granny didn’t even empty her

own trash. Ever. That was what the help was for. How strange, I

thought, that she’d even think to empty the one on her computer.

“Unless
she
didn’t.”

“Unless she didn’t what?” came the voice from behind me.

I jumped, my heart leaping to my throat. “Fuck, you scared

me half to death.”

Zeb laughed. “Which half? Not the good half, I hope.”

Now I laughed. “Dirty boy.”

“Amen to that.”

Then I remembered why he was there. “Did you set it all up?”

I held my breath, praying for some good news at long last.

He bounded over and put his arms around me. “We’re in

luck,” he whispered into my ear, taking a slow nibble on my lobe

as a million tingles worked their way down my spine. “He has

a meeting this morning, nearby. He’s going to meet me at his

apartment just after that. Then we can put our plan into action.”

“Plans,” I said, removing the paper from my pocket, the one

with Roy’s address on it. “Might as well kill two birds with one

stone.”

“Yuck,” he said, grabbing my hand. “I hope you mean that

figuratively.”

I nodded and we walked out of the room. “Okay then, to

quote Granny, might as well kill two shots with one glass. Has a

nicer ring to it, yes?”

94 Rob Rosen

“Yes,” he agreed, the pair of us tiptoeing down the stairs and

out the back door, his car already waiting for us. He laughed as

he started the engine. “Thank goodness you’re the boss; then I’m

not really sneaking off from work.”

I reached over and patted his crotch. “Something tells me it

isn’t
goodness
we’re in for.”

He returned the favor and gave my crotch a squeeze. “Then,

thankfully, it wasn’t this half I scared half to death before.”

I leaned back and smiled, slipping on my sunglasses as he sped

off, a trail of dust rising behind us. He lowered the windows, the

warm air hitting our faces, the greenery whizzing by. I breathed in

deeply. The trail had gone cold, but at least we’d picked up a new

one, maybe two. I said a silent prayer that Beau would be at the

end of one of them. That he’d be glad for the inheritance. That

he’d be glad for me. After all, a gay, mostly northern, half-brother

was not high up there on a southerner’s most wanted list.

I turned to Zeb, taking in his square jaw, dimpled chin, scruffy

cheeks. My heart beat madly in my chest. “Is it weird to be dating

the boss?” I blurted out, then waited with interest for the reply.

He chuckled, the sound like seashells being tossed at the

shoreline. “Oh, are we dating?”

Volley tossed. Volley returned. “Um, since, as you say, I’m the

boss, then yes. Yes, we’re dating.”

He returned it with a lob. “Is it weird to be dating the hired

help?”

I scrunched up my face and giggled, lobbing it right the hell

on back. “Nope. Kind of hot, actually.”

He smacked it, hard, and scored. “Then, no, it’s not weird,

and, yes, I’m glad we’re dating. Now, any chance for a raise, boss?”

I turned to him and smiled. “You already got one, remember?”

Once again he grabbed for my crotch. “Different kind of

raise.” He looked over at me and winked, pulling the car to the

side of the ride. “We’re here, boss.”

I looked up. Roy’s house was more than I’d been expecting,

southeRn FRied
95

the gardens extensive, a veritable field of color, all exquisitely

tended too. How much did Granny pay him? For that matter,

how much would I be paying him? Guess we’d have to find all

that out after we had a talk with him.

But all that would have to wait. Suddenly, we were confronted

with a monkey wrench in the works.

“Look,” Zeb said, pointing to the driveway.

There were two cars parked. The first a Volkswagen, the

second a Mercedes, new, and waxed to perfection. “I think I’m in

the wrong field.”

“No,” he said. “Only the first one is Roy’s.”

I sensed he knew who owned the other one. “And the

Mercedes?”

He turned to look at me. “Port’s.”

My jaw dropped. “I think we’ve moved way past coincidences

now,” I squeaked out.

He nodded. “Looks that way. Now what?”

I stared at the house. “I suppose we could just knock on the

door and see how it unfolds. It would be interesting to see their

reactions. Maybe we can glean something from that. And then we

won’t need Plan B.” Which I was all for because our other plan

meant that Zeb and Port would have to be alone. Not to mention

a little breaking and entering on my part. Yes, sorry, that’s what

I should have told you about sooner, but I didn’t want you to

worry. Thankfully, it now looked like we had a Plan C.

We got out of the car and walked to the front of the house, my

heart thumping a mile a minute. I looked over at Zeb; he looked

just as nervous. I rang the bell and we waited. And then waited

some more. “Ring it again,” Zeb said. So I did. Still nothing. I

knocked, loudly. Nada. Zip, nil, nicht. “Wait,” said Zeb. “I hear

something.”

We paused and held our ears up. “Two men talking,” I

whispered. “Sounds like it’s coming from out back.”

We followed the sound, our faces soon pressed up to a slatted

96 Rob Rosen

fence. “Roy,” I whispered.

“And Port,” Zeb whispered.

Holy motherfucking cow. I thought Roy was Stunning, capital

S. Port was all caps. STUNNING. And get this, they were both

naked. NAKED. In fact, I could cap the rest of this, but it would

get annoying, so I won’t. But, trust me, it’s deserving of it. It was

like a naked, gay Banana Republic ad come to life – well, even