is until the year 1899.
Memories are sketchy, no one talks about the tragedy. As if it had never happened. Especially older people, many of whom are dead.
Alice had disappeared one summer afternoon, never to be seen again. No body was ever found, not even a stray hair. It was as if the little six year old girl had floated back up to heaven with little notice from the Almighty.
Sipping, seeing the small hand print, Kelly thinks back to her friend as Slick starts another playful argument with Benjamin. The young woman smiles as she remembers the games she used to play with Alice as kids.
Instantly, like a ghostly whisper, Kelly recollects the child’s soft smile and wonderful laugh. It was not until later that she found out what many suspected. The young child was stanched by a murdering pedophile.
It was said that the man, his name never found out, was suspected for snatching another young child. It is also known the the small boy’s father took the law into his own hands. He killed the suspected child murder with a gun shot blast to the chest one moon filled night.
Ofcourse, this being the South, especially in rural south, there was no need for police or a judge and jury. Which in itself was the tragedy.
Years after the unknown man was killed, it was discovered that he had nothing to do with the child abductions. The drifter was just a hapless unemployed vagrant looking for work and food. Hoping for a warm bed to lay his head and a chance to start his life over again.
The man was innocent.
Hearing Slick chuckle as he stuffs his cheeks with eggs and bacon, his third helping, Kelly looks from the old barely legible hand print a few feet away. The socialite sips her coffee in a solitude the brothers know nothing about. Considering the fact that no one has ever been brought to justice for Alice’s murder.
Suddenly a pang of guilt comes across the young woman’s mind, considering another fact. No one even found out the poor man’s name.
Worse even still, the drifter was probably buried in a place long forgotten. Another ghost to haunt the Carolinas, joining legions of those without names and justice to give them eternal peace.
Letting the memory float from her mind, Kelly comes to a realization as she looks around. In the whole mansion, in all it splendor, the small kitchen is her favorite room. Not because the flapper uses it, but because it has so much history. Memories that have made whom she is in the present.
With her mind in the present, the young socialite winks playfully at Benjamin, watching him chomp through three slices of bacon.
Benjamin turns to the blue eyed hustler. “So --?”
Kelly grins, noticing Sally as she peeks around the corner.
“Speak husband. Explain to Benjamin why he has to turn himself in.”
Slick glares through a long chug of coffee. Sally pouring him more.
“Why ya’ instigat’in woman ?”
“I got a gu’d mind ta’ take ya’ upstairs and beat ya’ with wha’ makes ya’ ass moan.”
Kelly scoffs as she turns to a blushing Sally, the young maid grinning as she looks away quickly. Not before looking at Benjamin. The lady-of-the-house turns her attention from her stubborn mate for the moment, watching her best friend chuckle into a cup of coffee.
“Your one to snicker,” she laughs to Sally.
“I heard all kinds of moaning and cries all last night. I thought a cat was in heat.”
Again Sally blushes. Her wit just as quick as her friend’s. “Lies - how could’ga?”
“All what makes Mr. Slick a man stuffed down ya greedy gullet.”
“Chile. All I heard was gurgling and chock’in.”
“I was gonna call the police. Till’ I heard Slick cum,” the maid snarks.
Kelly laughs out loud, grabbing her friend’s by the waist. Both looking toward the men, each loved and adored. “Seems like we both had a good night,” she whispers.
“Imma fill ya’ in lat’a. Giiiirll-ya have no idea,” Sally grins, turning to a winking Benjamin.
Slick smiles, crunching on two pieces of bacon. “Ok, h’ur it goes. Ole man Jacks goes ta’ tha’ racetrack today.”
“Then he gon’ stop ov’a at ‘Freddys’ for his Sunday ribs and cornbread.”
“The fat fuc-....,” Slick starts to say, Kelly giving him a deadpan glare.
“That gentleman is’a creature of habit. Our job is ta’ get at his fu’rst son, Mick. But this can be put on hold is otha’ shit happen.”
“Ok ...? “ Benjamin remarks, sipping coffee.
“That young stupid bast- .....,” Slick says, cutting himself off, looking to his stern wife.
“That gentlem'un always goes ta’ collect rent in Spokane Heights, tha’ color’d section. My job is ta’ get ta’ him befo’ he gets back ta’ Rushmore. Somewhu’r in between.”
“He gon’ be by himself. Rememb’a .”
“His broth’as and half the sheriff look’in us ov’a like gu’d smell’in hook’as,” Slick says.
Hearing his partner’s plan, the creole smiles. Its a simple plan and it works. Benjamin has never liked plans that were too complicated. To many things to go wrong. “Simple enough...,” he says.
“So what’s all tha’ mystery bout’ ?,” he ask, curious.
So is Kelly.
Slick looks up from the last of his third helping of bacon and eggs.
“Cause’ thu’r is anoth’a reason. Ya’ gonna get lock’d up buddy.”
“Thu’r is a negro ya’ gon’ break out. He is a brutha’ of a fellow hustl’a and his papi is my cousin’s road dog. Well, our cousin.”
“Besides tha’ man aint did sh- .....,” Slick says, correcting himself as Kelly smiles proudly.
“Nuth’in ...... tha’ man aint did nuth’in,” he interjects, frustrated.
Benjamin nods as he continues to eat. Only to glare up at his buddy, then at Kelly. Smacking through tasty bacon and eggs, the creole grins sincerely.
“Is this fucka’ out his fuck’in scuttle brain mind?”
Quickly, Kelly glares at the handsome hustler, sucking her teeth as Sally makes the holy sacrament across
