Jail's Bait: Time Served (Book 5)

Danny and Ray arrived just as the minister had reached the pulpit.  They hurried up to the front rows and the other Hills made room and they sat down while the clergyman waited for the crowd to settle down.  Once everything was quiet, the minister cleared his throat.  "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to say goodbye, to-"

"Am I on time??  Waiiit, s'il vous plait(please); I'm hereeee!!!" 

The crowd turned en masse towards the source of the yell.  Just beyond the gates, a small crowd was nearing- well, it looked more like one woman in red, surrounded by a sea of flashes and murmurs.  The scarlet figure drew nearer, along with what looked like her retinue.

Back in the back rows, Carmen suddenly peered closer to the advancing figure.  Marquis looked at her.  "What is it...?"

"I don't believe it," Carmen said, reaching over to tug at Angelina.  "Is that who I think it is...?"

Angelina's eyes widened.  "I think you're right, Carmie… oh my god!!!"

Marquis turned back to his fiancée.  "'Carmie'...?" he asked, amused.

"Shut up," Carmen growled to Marquis.

Marquis stared after the girls' gazes to behold what he believed was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  She stood about 5'10, with a flawless, light caramel complexion; her hair was artfully arranged in a stunning cascade of cinnamon.  Her shoulders were wrapped in a dark red high collar drape that perfectly matched the slinky dress that revealed her svelte figure.  Like grace and style personified did she move through the cemetery; her entire aura exuded haute couture.  She appeared unapproachable, and yet every man who saw her wanted her.  Her elegance, however, did little to cover the haughty way she carried herself.

Carmen and Angelina simultaneously dropped their mouths in surprise.  "It-It's HER," Carmen replied in awe.

"Ay Dios mio (Oh my god)," Angelina agreed in a subdued whisper. 

Marquis and Kap stared at their girlfriends; neither one had ever given this kind of reaction before in their lives.  Kap looked again at the sexy goddess which had drawn nearer, and recognition dawned in his eyes.  "Hey, isn't that the French supermodel," he asked Angelina.  "Something-Clean?"

"Jacqueline," she replied to Kap; "you pronounce it "zha-Clean.”

"And she's the biggest supermodel in Paris...!" Carmen said then, her eyes glowing with surprise.

Angelina scrambled to get a better look from her seat, nearly throwing Jake to the ground.  "What is she DOING here...?"  She made a series of impatient gestures.  "Move, I can't see her...!"

Behind her a crowd of paparazzi lights flashed and clicked as the beautiful fashionista came to the last row of seats.  Everyone already seated stared at her, stunned.  Those who knew who she was began to whisper with nervous excitement.  Jake, righting himself after almost being thrown to the ground, looked up as the supermodel neared their group.  He was stunned like everyone else at first, and then shook his head in exasperation- what the HELL is SHE doing here, he thought to himself.

The woman paused at the last seat in the rear row, smiling around at everyone, then gazed up towards the coffin where the minister stood.

The minister silently looked candidly at the woman, who returned his look.  "Monsieur Ministre, I apologize," she said in a strong Parisian accent; "S'il vous plaît, do continue."  And she abruptly sat in the last sat on the row, looking intently at the minister, crossing her lovely legs as everyone else gaped at her, revealing her spiked crimson wrap-around stilettos.  Clearly, from her unassuming attitude, she was used to such attention.  Mollified, the crowd turned back in their seats face-front.

The minister cleared his throat, and continued on.  "We are gathered here to honor the life of this gentle soul, who has fallen asleep in the arms of Jesus Christ our Lord…"

********

The service was concluded about 45 minutes later, and the small crowd of mourners lined up to file past Smithers' coffin to pay their final respects.  As the old man's only known blood relatives, Rah-Rah and Marquis stood near the head.  Joe and Regine, however, stood towards the foot, as Smithers' final employers.  Everyone else shuffled by to offer their condolences.

"I'm going to miss him," Marquis said to Rah-Rah with brimming eyes, truly saddened by this event.  "I came up here to play chess with him as much as I could.  I never told him he was my great-great uncle," he sniffed, wiping away the tears that fell on his face.  "He might have liked to know his sister's kids and grandkids lived on."

"The way I hear it," Rah-Rah murmured to his son, "he was really weak and frail.  If he had gotten whiff of us being his sister's folk, the shock might have made him keel right over."  He clinically stared at the coffin.  "Better this way; he had a little bit longer to live than if we had got to him."

"You can be so cold sometimes, Dad," Marquis observed, looking at his father and shaking his head.

"Not cold, son," Rah-Rah replied; "that's just real talk-" and then he broke off in mid-sentence, his eyes growing wide. Marquis turned in the direction of his father's gaze.

Jacqueline, the beautiful supermodel, was approaching the pair of them.  Rah-Rah smiled at the woman.  "Thank you for coming," he said in his most flattering tone, holding out his hand to take hers.  "How did you know my great-uncle?"

"Well, Je dois m'excuser de nouveau (I must apologize again) ," Jacqueline said with a flutter, her French accent as thick as Jake's; "but Grand-mama and Monsieur Smithers were vieux amis- old friends… regrettably she could not make ze journey here, so she asked if I wouldn't mind representing her.  I would go to ze ends of ze earth for ma grand-mère," she added with a gracious smile, "so zat is why I am here."  

"I am Robert Hill; this is my son Marquis," Rah-Rah stated with some pride.

Marquis smiled widely, holding out his hand to shake Jacqueline's.  "My fiancée is in awe of you," he said to her.

Jacqueline nodded.  "C'est seulement naturel (It is only natural), as she should be," she replied with an air of superiority.  And before Marquis could say anything else she had released him, nodded once again towards Rah-Rah and headed for Joe. "Bonjour, Monsieur Governor," she was saying then. 

Marquis was so stunned by her abrupt behavior.  "What the- what was that all about?"

Rah-Rah shrugged his shoulders, his gaze lost into Jacqueline.  "She's so damn fine; do you really care how she acts...?"

Marquis thought about it, studying her face and figure.  "You might have a point," he grinned with his dad.  "I mean, I'm happy with Carmen and with Kap, but there's a part of me that is helpless to that kind of beauty."

"Yeah, she might make me forget all about men and go back to women my damn self," Rah-Rah agreed with a leer.  "Anyway, that's what I wanted to say to you- I'm going to try starting a new relationship with someone, and yes, it's a guy," he added pointedly to his son.

Marquis looked at his father, and nodded.  "I figured you would want to get back into life sooner or later; I'm proud of you," he said then.

Rah-Rah smiled deprecatingly.  "Thanks for that, son," he said then.  "When things are more… structured with me, I'll invite you to meet Marcus.  He's at Oakgrove, actually my next-door neighbor while I was there."

"Marcus JAMES...?" Marquis asked then, his eyes wide.  "The ‘Dark Mark'...?"

Rah-Rah was taken aback.  "Well, yeah, but how did you know?  And the ‘Dark Mark's his nickname, right?"

"Yes, they call him the Dark Mark after the dark sign in the Harry Potter books; because putting him out there on the court always spelled the end for the other team.  And as for me knowing about him being at OakGrove- Dad, I'm a baller," Marquis exclaimed; "of course I knew that one of my favorite All-Stars was staying there for evaluation after he went off on somebody at a game.  And you're dating him...?"

Rah-Rah stammered a moment. "Well, it's sort of like… getting to know each other."

"Biblically...?" Marquis asked his father mildly; Rah-Rah actually managed to look guilty.  "Wow, my Dad's fucking Marcus James," Marquis said with a smirk.

Rah-Rah elbowed his son in the ribs.  "WILL you keep that down," he whispered. "Marcus is still a bit fragile, I don't know when he'll be able to handle it if word got out."

"Sorry," Marquis said, rubbing his side.  "Wow, we Hills sure know how to attract celebrities, huh?"

"Seems like it," Rah-Rah agreed, looking over at Jacqueline once again.  "Strange though," Rah-Rah proclaimed moments later, after the parade of mourners had passed by, "but she looks remarkably familiar."

"I was going to say the same thing," said Lamar, who had come up behind Rah-Rah and Marquis.  "I've seen her before…"

"Seen who before," inquired Malik, who came over and joined the little group.

"Jacqueline," Rah-Rah said then; and they all turned towards the group of people that now surrounded the supermodel, taking pictures, shaking her hand… Marquis noticed Carmen fighting her way to the center of the knot that encompassed the woman, no doubt to get an autograph or something… how sad though, that her presence is totally taking away from the real reason we're all here, he thought somberly to himself, resting one hand on the nearby casket and patting it fondly.

"I know how you feel," said a voice.

Marquis turned around.  Danny Clark was standing right next to him, tears of sympathy in his eyes.  "It's like you lost another grandfather, isn't it," his godfather said then, resting one hand on Marquis's shoulder.

Marquis nodded.  "That's exactly how I feel."  He whispered to Danny, "As you know, I didn't get a chance to know my real grandfather…"  His eyes cut over to his father for a split second.  "So whenever I came up here to see Smithers, knowing who he was to me really… I kind of pretended that he was my great-grandfather.  I know it's silly," he continued, his own tears spilling forth, "but it made perfect sense to me at the time."

"You grieve the way you need to grieve," Danny said then with a nod, patting Marquis on the back.  "Take your time."  He paused.  "Now. I didn't know Smithers all that well, but he seemed to take to you very well; maybe he saw some of your great-great grandmother, his twin sister, in you."

"Thanks for that, Uncle Danny," Marquis said then, hugging the man.

"You got one of those for me," said Kap's voice from behind him.

Marquis turned around, and Kap's arms were around him like a vice.  "I'll leave you guys to it then," Danny said, going back to rejoin Ray.

"Did you hear all that," Marquis asked Kap.

Kap nodded, releasing Marquis and stepping back to regard him.

"Did you know that I felt like that, too?" Marquis asked abashedly.

Kap sighed with a sad smile.  "Yup. Best friend radar; I know you, dude.  And it's pretty obvious you weren't using Smithers for something like a sex slave…"

"Very funny," Marquis said with a grimace, elbowing Kap in the ribs.  He looked at Kap then.  "I'm glad you're here, and I'm sorry about all the distance between us lately."

"I'm sorry too, Key," Kap said then, with a wistful look in his eyes.

Marquis looked closely.  "You didn't do anything wrong… so why are you apologizing?  What is it...?" He leaned in.  "Best friend radar works both ways.  I can see that something's bothering you…"

Kap started, his drunken night with Melo and the morning after now running through his mind.  But before he could respond-

"Everyone, can I please have your attention," Joe Hill said then.   The chatter calmed down.  "There is a repast set for you in the banquet hall on the far side of the manor.  There are golf carts in the main corridor for those who need assistance in the commute to where the feast is set.  Follow me, please."  And he took Regine's arm and led her out of the cemetery; the mourners began to follow them.

"I'm sorry," Kap said then, frowning at Marquis, "but did your uncle just say that there are golf carts INSIDE the manor for everyone to get around...?"

Marquis shrugged.  "Its way larger in there than you think," he answered simply.  "Those old folk will need oxygen if they try to reach the Banquet Hall on their own from here."

Kap opened his mouth- and then thought better of it and shut up.

Marquis looked around, and saw his girlfriend with a look of triumph on her face as she waded her way back to him, Angelina in her wake. "I got her autograph," Carmen called to him triumphantly.

Marquis gave her the thumb's up in a silent cheer.  He frowned then, still looking about.  Kap, noticing the look, asked, "What's the matter...?"

Marquis turned towards him.  "Just wondering…. where's Jake...?"

********

The centuries' old manor house gleamed like a rose in the sunlight; and with everyone being outside attending the funeral there was a miasma of silence that permeated the halls and floors like a shroud; such was the gothic grandeur of Crimson Crest.  For hours the only sound heard was the dust settling to the floors in the older parts of the house; if one had been standing in the front foyer, drinking in the awesome quiet, they would have heard the whisper of the front doors opening resound like a loud, rushing wind.

The doors closed, and Jake stared around at the gallant entryway with its gleaming wooden floors, marble busts and ancient tapestries that lined the marble-cast walls.  Zis place looks like a back-handed museum, he thought to himself scornfully.

He flipped a coin, and decided to go left.  Striding past the large portraits and hanging chandeliers, Jake crept through the manor's gloom.  Mixing with the scent of fresh-cut flowers was the slight aroma of freshly cooked food which wafted through the hallways, and he surmised the cooks must have recently taken the food to the Banquet Hall.  Soon he came to a set of double doors on his left; opening them, he came into the same den which Joe Hill usually frequented.  Across from the doors, draped in the den's shadows along the fringed wall, was a full-length portrait of an unusually handsome, arrogant-faced man in hunting garb.  Underneath on the frame, in bold letters was the caption ‘J. Mayson Hill- age 25, 1938.'

"Ahhhh, Marquis's arrière-grand-père (great-grandfather)", he murmured to himself.  "Zere is some resemblance…" he closed the doors of the den behind him, and went to work searching the room, opening doors and closets, drawers and chests; for what, he wasn't sure yet.  Then, as he turned to regard the portrait, curiosity got the better of him and he came over to it.  Reaching out to straighten the frame he found it moving at his slightest touch… the entire picture swung forward to reveal a large, embedded wall safe, complete with a ancient-looking combination lock. 

"Sacré bleu," Jake said in awe; "zis coffre-fort mural (This wall safe) must be ‘undreds of years old...!"  He leaned forward to try and study the tumbler in the lock, hoping that centuries of twisting and turning would yield a sort of fading on those specific numbers he needed to turn to.  "But even if I spy out the right numbers," Jake said to himself, "how would I find the right sequence...? C'est impossible (This is impossible)."

He sat down at the desk to think, to try and reason it out.  "Monsieur Hill is at la porte de mort (at death's door) himself," he began.  "He could not possibly be accounted to remember everything, since he is ancient… possibly he has written ze number down somewhere."

Jake absently stared at a certain photograph on the desk, a picture of the same man in the portrait, J. Mayson Hill, and it looked as if the picture was taken in this room, front of the very portrait; but it was obviously a few years later than the date on the painting, for the man's facial features in the picture had slightly aged.  The odd thing about this photograph was, it seemed as if the man was slightly pointing to something off-picture.

On a hunch, Jake took the picture out of its frame, looked closely at it, then turned it over.  On the back were two phrases:

If you forgot, I'll remember true;

The combination's behind you.

Jake stared at the back of the photograph, trying to understand what the meaning of the strange riddle could be.  "Je ne comprends pas cette devinette (I cannot understand this riddle)," he said to himself, scratching his head.  He looked up, distracted- and jumped back in spite of himself by the sight of his reflection looking back at him across the room. Wondering how on earth he hadn't spotted the mirror hanging there before, he suddenly caught a glimmer of insight.

"Ze combination's behind… ME," he said aloud, curiously staring now at his reflection in the mirror.  Going over to it, he gazed at himself properly in the mirror's full reflection- and then spotted something.  Peering closer, the reflection began to show faded numbers, submerged behind the mirror's refracted glass; now appearing, the longer he stared at them, like mini-ghosts:

23-54-3

"Comment extraordinairement intelligent (How extraordinarily clever)," Jake breathed as he ran to get a piece of paper and a pen.  He noted that he had to stand in the precise spot he stood in before to catch the faded numbers' appearance.  When the numbers showed themselves again, he wrote them down and then hurried back to the other side of the room.  Confidently, he twisted the lock, following the same procedure as any combo lock: twice counterclockwise to 23, once clockwise to 54, and counterclockwise back to 3.

With a loud ‘CLICK', the safe door swung open.

"Mère de Dieu (Mother of God)…" Jake whispered; stunned by his own cleverness, he looked inside the dark opening…

********

"Excuse me, please...?"

The supermodel Jacqueline turned her beautiful face towards the questioner, and beheld Lamar Clark standing right behind her.  "How can I help you, monsieur," she asked with a breathy, polite smile.

"Do I…know you from somewhere...?" Lamar asked with a polite smile of his own.  "Besides the runways and the magazines, I mean."

"I-I do not know, monsieur," Jacqueline replied, with a slightly nervous tone.  "Maybe you ‘ave come to ze Riviera on occasion...?"

"Well, yes, yes I have," Lamar replied with a look of curiosity furrowing his brow.  "So you grew up in Paris?"

"But of course," she answered with an imperial sneer; "where ELSE would ze incomparable Jacqueline ‘ave been raised...?" and with that she strode off towards the manor, following in the crowd's wake.

"What was that all about," Malik said then, coming up behind Lamar.

"Did you happen to get a good look at Jacqueline just now...?" Lamar asked with a nod towards the retreating supermodel.

"Yeah, I did," Malik replied.  "And I saw her at those times we attended the same award shows or parties.  Who in their right minds could overlook HER...?"

"Malik, you and I, we have been to some celebrity events where she also attended, but we've never mingled or even spoken to her before.  But for right now, think back… back to 8th grade," Lamar said then, turning to look at Malik.  "Do you remember what we were doing then?"

"Well," Malik said, remembering, "I have to say that we were both having fun, laughing at our teacher Mrs. Brooks behind her back, and that's the year you first started dating…" his eyes snapped wide as he looked out across the grounds at the disappearing crowd.  "Noooo," Malik said then incredulously.  "You don't think…"

"I think…" Lamar said then, "that the woman we just met is my first girlfriend, Jackie Stevens."

"Did you say Jackie Stevens...?" Rah-Rah said then, appearing by their side, staring after the woman himself.  "I KNEW it...!  I knew that I knew who she was… that ‘Jacqueline'," he said, making mock quotation signs, "she aint nobody but Jackie Stevens from the block...!"

"Wow, Jackie Stevens," Malik said, giving the idea a low whistle.  "She's grown up and filled out, hasn't she...?"

"Apparently so," Lamar agreed wistfully.  "And after all this time she shows up out of the clear blue."

"Whatever happened to her," Malik asked.  "Why'd she disappear like that...?"

"I always thought her family moved away," Lamar said sadly; "we never even got the chance to say goodbye."

"Her family didn't move away," Rah-Rah said then mysteriously.  "You do know who she is, don't you...?"

Lamar and Malik turned to regard Rah-Rah.  "Well, who is she...?" Malik asked.

Rah-Rah looked at them both.  "Jackie Stevens," he proclaimed; "Marquette Stevens' little sister."

Lamar and Malik's jaws dropped simultaneously.  "Marquette," Lamar exclaimed in shock- "as in Marquis's MOTHER???"

"The one and the same," Rah-Rah replied then.  "You should know I would know her… I was at their house all the time, trying to deal with Marquette getting pregnant at 16, and having Marquis back then.  She's Marquette's younger sister by three years."

"So their family is French, then?" Malk asked.  "Look at the names… ‘Marquette', ‘Marquis', ‘Jacqueline'… are they from France...?"

"They have people over there," Rah-Rah replied, "but they're actually Creole.  Straight from the Louisiana bayou country; the mother's side is, I mean."

"The mother's side...?" Malik asked.

Rah-Rah leaned in conspiratorially.  "Marquette told me all about it years ago.  Their moms is the daughter of Louis Dempingion, owner of Dempingion International Imports.  He's got a whole fleet of ships bringing in merchandise from everywhere, and they all dock at New Orleans.  Everyone just calls the guy Capt. Demp, ‘cause no one can pronounce the name right.  Anyway, when his daughter married some schoolteacher he disowned her; she married beneath her family's status, you see.  He hated his son-in-law, but he fell in love with the granddaughters.  All they had to do was tell the father to kiss off and Capt. Demp would take them in, giving them all the money he withheld from their mother.  Their choice."

"Let me guess," Malik said then; "Marquette remained loyal to her dad, but Jackie told them all ‘sayonara' and took the money, right...?"

"It appears so," Rah-Rah said shrewdly.

"Whoa, that explains a lot," Lamar said then.  "Old Creole families are very strict when it comes to certain things."  He took a deep breath.  "You two knew that Jackie was my first, right...?"

"First what...?" Rah-Rah asked.

"His first puppy," Malik said dryly.  "What do you think he meant, stupid?"

"Easy, easy," Rah-Rah said, laughing as he clapped Malik on the back; "I knew what he meant.  He told us both, remember...?  Y'all were in the 8th grade, I was in the 10th.  Marquis was almost a year old then, and back then I was still buggin out that the first time I ever had sex made me a teenage father.  We were sitting on the bleachers at Rainier Park talking about it, and Lamar just blurts it out that he had sex with Jackie the night before...!  Remember...?"

"Yeah, I remember that one," Malik replied with a smile at his lover.  "You were so excited that you couldn't do anything else but talk about the dirty deed for weeks."

"Well, forgive me for being happy that I was finally having sex like my two best friends were," Lamar sneered at the both of them.

"You had sex with the girl ONE time, and you thought you were the newest porno star to hit town," Malik pointed out with a smirk.

"ANYWAY," Lamar said, turning to Rah-Rah, "I knew Jackie had a sister that was a junior in high school, but I never knew that she was the same girl that you got pregnant...! How odd is that...?"

"Too odd," Rah-Rah said then, staring after Jacqueline, who had finally disappeared around the corner of the manor.  "Odd also, because I thought you already knew."

"Well, I knew," Malik said then, to Lamar's surprise.  "I thought you knew that too, but I seem to recall that you were a bit distracted right around that time… that's  when Jackie disappeared from school."

"And after all these years she shows up again, to attend a private family funeral.  You think I should go try asking her what happened," Lamar asked Malik then.

"I don't think so," Malk said; "obviously she's trying her damndest to rid herself of her past; and with the whole French get-up thing she's got going on…. She doesn't want anyone to know who she really is, so maybe we should respect that and allow her to keep her secrets; you know how celebrities get."

"But… Marquis is technically her nephew," Lamar continued; "shouldn't she at least get to meet him?  Marquette hasn't mentioned her sister in all these years, and I'm pretty sure Marquis has no clue that this woman is his Aunt; so it's obvious that the sisters fell out."

"But over what," Malik asked then, "which would make them never speak again...?"

"Maybe Marquette felt like Jackie betrayed them by choosing the Dempingion fortune over her own father," wondered Lamar.

"No, baby," Malik said then, furrowing his brow; "it seems like there's more to it than that… your theory is too simple a solution."

Rah-Rah suddenly looked like the cat that got caught with the canary in his mouth.

Both Lamar and Malik caught the concealed look.  "Okay, Rah-Rah," Malik said, coming over to stand in front of his cousin; "what do you know, and how long have you known it...?"

Rah-Rah stared at them, then glanced down at his wrist, stammering- "My, oh my, how time does fly- and so must I," he cried then in a panic- and with that he rushed off.

Malik and Lamar simply stood and stared after him.  "You realize he's not wearing a watch, right," he said conversationally.  

"You're not really surprised at this, are you...?" Lamar asked with one raised eyebrow.

"No," Malik admitted with a sigh.  "Of course Rah-Rah is hiding something; he's ALWAYS hiding something.  There's definitely going to be a book of secrets that'll come out after his funeral."

"Not if I'm the one doing his bio," replied Lamar with folded arms.  "Whatever Rah-Rah knows about what happened between Jackie and Marquette, we'll get it out of him," he said; "come on."  And they headed for the manor.