Jail's Bait: Time Served (Book 5)

Chapter V

The day was nearing its end, the late afternoon sun lighting up the blood-red maple trees that were scattered across the acres that made up Crimson Crest.  It was this and the red clay earth that gave the land its name.  No one knew exactly how dark-red Japanese maple trees wound up on Seattle soil; legend had it that back in the 19th century, when the Trans-Union railway was being built, the hired Asian railroad workers tried to settle here in the early 1800’s, and sowed red maple seeds on the grounds in an attempt to remind them of the beauty of their native lands, so far away.  Yet once the railroad was complete and the extra workers were obsolete, the Asians were driven off the land to dwell in underground cities on the wharf, remaining out of plain sight, safely hidden from the racist white men that dwelt above.  Yet reminders of their early attempts to settle amongst the denizens of Seattle were revealed from the moment the first red blossom burst forth from its budding stem.  By the time the first Hill owned the property, the young trees had grown into a wild orchard, with dark red leaves growing from every tree as far and as wide as they could see it...!  Trimming the red maples down to manageable level spaces and manicured columns transformed the wild fire glamour into magnificent foliage which awed both spectator and tourist for miles around. 

Yet the spectators and tourists were long gone, and all was quiet on the grounds of Crimson Crest; the manor’s servants all quietly mulled around in the great kitchen, waiting on news of their beloved boss, the Hill manservant and butler, ‘ol man Smithers.  He had been found on the floor near the main sweeping stairwell to the upper floors, writhing and jerking in spasms, tears of fright splattering left and right.  At present an ambulance stood in front of the manor, EMT’s waiting on the front steps, as within the Hill family physician, Dr. Hutton, examined Smithers with a stethoscope as he lay on a couch in the great den across from the front foyer. Standing near the couch were Gov. and Mrs. Hill, Danny, Ray, Malik and Lamar, their collective faces mirroring their concern. Off in the corner of the den, to one side, stood Danny’s older brother and Joe’s secret lover, Lionel Jenkins.  His face was filled with nervous tension; he obviously felt very uncomfortable being there, included yet separate from them all.

“With all due respect, why is your uncle here,” Malik whispered into Lamar’s ear.  “He really didn’t know Smithers like that , did he...?” 

Lamar turned to stare at the man who looked as if he would blend into the furniture and disappear if he could.  “Well, his step-mother Maisie was Smithers’ twin sister… so Smithers was his uncle, for a time,” Lamar attempted to explain- but then stopped, looking at Malik helplessly.  “I don’t know why he’s here,” he finally admitted with a hint of exasperation. 

Smithers’s face and drawn and his pale-white skin awash with the red haze of sunset streaming through the western windows. 

“How is he, Doctor,” Joe Hill finally said then, his voice tense. 

Dr. Hutton stood upright, facing Joe and Regine with a grim, care-worn visage as he pulled off his stethoscope.  “I’m awful sorry to have to tell you this, Joe; but its just his time,” the weary-faced physician replied in almost a whisper.  “He may fade away with the sunset, he may last a while longer afterwards... yet he won’t be with us come sunrise.  Say what you need to say to him now,” the doctor added then to everyone; “and again, I am sorry.”  He gathered his things back into his doctor’s bag and turned to go.  “I’ll give you all some time alone with him, and send the ambulance back when… when they’ll be needed; just give me a call.”  And with a nod to them all, he left the great den, closing the doors behind him. 

Lamar looked at Malik, tears in his eyes.  “That poor old man… he’s one of the good guys,” he whispered into his lover’s ear.  “Why do the good ones have to die so soon...?” 

“Soon...?  He’s lived a good long life, baby,” Malik reminded him, his face sad.  “He’s at least 20 years older than my dad.” 

There came a knock on the great den’s doors.  Before anyone could move the doors opened, and to everyone’s surprise Rah-Rah came strolling in, the maids closing the doors behind him.  “Before you call the cops,” he said to the room at large, “I've come with my nurses and even more surprisingly, with permission this time.  The nurses are in the state car right outside, if you don’t believe me.” 

“We already know about it, Robert,” Danny said resignedly; “when I called to let you know about Smithers I knew you might try to come here.  You won’t be arrested.” 

Malik opened his mouth then to speak, but Lamar surreptitiously hit him in the arm to shut him up. 

“Thanks, Mr. Clark,” Rah-Rah was saying then… and then his eyes fell upon Ray.  Rah-Rah remained just as uncomfortable as he always was when he was in the former homeless man’s presence; his being the mirror image of the father he had murdered in cold blood still unsettled him.  “Hello, sir,” he said to Ray. 

“Hello, Robert,” Ray replied. 

Rah-Rah nodded to him; then turned towards Lamar and Malik, who faced him guardedly.  “How’s it hanging, cuzzo,” Rah-Rah said, nodding towards Malik. 

Malik stared back in challenge.  “Hello,” he said simply. 

“And Lamar, how are you...? Rah-Rah hesitantly asked. 

“Holding my own,” Lamar replied in a strong voice, gripping Malik’s hand in a show of unity. 

Rah-Rah stared at the two of them.  “Of course,” he simply replied.  Turning from them, he went over to the couch and stared down at the old man.  “He doesn’t know I’m his great-nephew, right,” he whispered sideways to Joe. 

“No- shhh.” Joe stared nervously at the unconscious form.  “I don’t want him to have another shock.” 

“Welcome to Crimson Crest,” Regine said with a cold formality to Rah-Rah. 

“Swanky place,” he exclaimed, looking around.  “Thank you, Auntie,” he added with sarcasm. 

She scowled back at him silently. 

Just then the faithful manservant’s eyes fluttered open.  He met Joe’s gaze, and quietly smiled.  “Hello, Master Joe,” he whispered. 

“Well, old man,” Joe said then, kneeling down by the couch and taking his butler’s hand in his own.  “What are you doing, sleeping on the job...?  I might have to dock your pay,” he said gently. 

Smithers looked up at Joe, his rheumy eyes glistening.  “I-I believe that you may need to find a new butler soon, Master Joe.” 

“I don’t want to find a new butler,” Joe said with a forced smile on his face.  “You practically raised me; you’re like a father to me, Smithers.” 

“He’s right,” Regine added, bending down and giving a nod to Smithers.  “You’ll do just fine.  What does that ol doctor know?” 

“He knows the truth,” Smithers said, trying to point at them imperiously- but then he started with a dry cough- a cough so weak in force it seemed like he was using his last breath to finish it up. 

“I’ll get him some water,” Lionel called out, striding over to the mini-bar. 

“Would you like some water, Smithers,” Ray said, leaning over with concern. 

Smithers looked up at Ray- and a funny look came over his face.  “You know, your eyes are just like my sister Maisie’s eyes,” he said strangely. 

Everyone in the room stared at Ray, with no one noticing Joe’s suddenly guarded look.  “Well,” said Ray, taken aback, “that-that’s nice of you to say, Smithers.” 

“Yes, just like her eyes,” Smithers said then, his eyes going unfocused.  Then he turned slightly to refocus his gaze to somewhere just past Ray’s left shoulder.  “I've been waiting for you… doesn’t he have your eyes, Maisie...?” 

Everyone looked at each other in growing fear.  Joe patted Smithers on the back of his hand.  “Smithers, old man,” he said haltingly, “your sister isn’t… well, she isn’t here.” 

“Why yes, she is,” Smithers said with a widening, tear-filled smile.  “She done come to take me with her.  She’s standing right there,” he weakly admonished, raising his arm to point at the spot just behind Ray. 

Suddenly Ray grabbed at his left ear in knee-jerk fashion, knocking Danny aside. 

“What the hell,” Lionel said then, ducking with the glass of ice water he had brought over for the old man.  “Did a fly attack you or something?” he asked Ray.

“No- I felt something, like a hand brushing down the back of my hair,” Ray said, frowning absently. 

Smithers, meanwhile, had reached out with one arm towards empty air, his eyes brimming with happy tears.  “I-I’ve missed you so much, Maisie…” and then his hand faltered, falling back to the couch as he gave one last, shuddering breath… and then he was still, his tear-filled, blank eyes reflecting the failing light of sunset’s final fire. 

Joe bent his head down onto Smithers’ now lifeless chest and sobbed, Regine’s hands on her husband’s shoulders as she also cried.  Lamar fell into Malik’s arms as Danny grabbed onto Ray, who pulled him close, stroking his head while he kept staring at Smithers’ inert form with a sort of curious awe- and a unconnected sense of loss… Rah-Rah stood alone, his arms across his chest, shaking his head in sorrow.  “Rest in peace, uncle,” he whispered solemnly.  Lionel went back to the mini-bar and placed the untouched glass of water back. 

There was a knock on the doors, which opened to reveal the whole staff of Crimson Crest standing just inside the corridor.  “Is-is he gone, sirs… madame...?” one of the maids cautiously asked. 

Regine looked at her staff, and quietly nodded.  “I know that you all loved Smithers and respected him so much,” she said then to the suddenly somber group.  “He was much more than a servant here; he was family.” 

“He was a father to us all,” the maid who spoke up first replied.  “We will never forget him…” and with a low bow from the group en masse, they retreated and closed the great den’s doors behind them, low sounds of sobbing and sniffles fading in the distance. 

“I should call Marquis and let him know,” Danny murmured after he could find his voice again. 

“You call the ambulance back for Uncle Smithers, and I'll call Marquis,” Rah-Rah replied to Danny; “he’s my son.”  And he reached in his pocket and pulled out a cell-phone.  Danny stared at Rah-Rah for a moment, then nodded his silent acquiesce.

Malik’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.  “Since when do they allow personal cell-phones in mental hospitals?” he whispered low to Lamar, who stayed in the shelter of his arms.  “And he gets to walk up in here without his nurses, or being handcuffed, or anything...?  There’s something that we’re not being told,” he added dramatically. 

Rah-Rah murmured low into the phone, and then after a few moments he hung up the call, turning to regard Danny.  “He sends his condolences and says to send the family jet for him when the arrangements for the funeral have been made.”  He paused.  “We have a family jet...?” 

“Never mind all that,” Danny said, walking over to the doors and opening them.  “I'm sure your presence would have comforted Smithers if he had known you were his sister’s grandson.  Thank you for coming,” he added pointedly to Rah-Rah. 

Rah-Rah stared at Danny quietly, dark eyes narrowed- and then gave a sudden nod and smile.  “Thank you for letting me know about Smithers; please keep me informed on the plans for the service.”  And he glanced back at Lamar and Malik, who stared back at him in mute challenge… and then he left the great den, slamming the doors behind him. 

“Who was the genius who told that loose cannon that we were related to him...?”  Malik grumbled, tightening his embrace on Lamar. 

“As I recall, it was you, baby,” Lamar murmured. 

Malik gaped at that.  “Well, next time remind me to keep my big mouth shut.” 

“Well, let’s hope we don’t come across anymore homicidal psychopaths with matching DNA,” Joe added then, raising his head from Smithers’s chest, wiping his eyes.  Regine helped him to his feet, where he brushed off his pants and then gazed down at the old man, tears still splashing down his face. 

Malik released Lamar and went to his father, who grabbed him in a bear hug.  Regine put her arms around both of them, and Danny put one arm around Lamar and the other around Ray.  Lionel came to stand next to his brother and Lamar. 

“Well, Smithers is with Maisie now,” Joe said with a sob; “when my father died he took care of me until I was old enough to inherit.  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Smithers.” 

And so the Hill family stood together, grieving the passing of a great friend.