Rabbit Punch (Part Five)
BY GREGORY HEDGEPETH
Cover image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay. Cover art by Gregory Hedgepeth.
An urgent knock pried me from my afternoon daydream. Between friends wanting to sneak a peek at the estate and the constant stream of deliveries, the interruptions had been going on nonstop for the last three weeks. I sauntered downstairs and made my way to the door. To my surprise, an unexpected guest was waiting there for me.
“Hey girl, hey!” Dahlia let out with a wide smile, holding a small leather bag at her side as I swung the door open.
“Hey little sister,” I said, extending my arms for a hug. “What brings you by?”
“It’s a beautiful day outside. Can’t I just stop by to see you?” I propped a cynical hand on my hip, letting her know she wasn’t getting by with such a bullshit answer. She sighed and shook her head. “It’s that damn Walker again.”
I rolled my eyes and stood to the side as she made her way over the threshold. “Jesus, what did he do now?”
“Do you have any wine?”
“It’s 1:15 in the afternoon, Dahlia.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be,” she said, making her way towards the kitchen.
I locked the door behind us and set the alarm before following after her towards the kitchen. By the time I made my inside, she had already pulled a bottle of pinot from the fridge. “So what did Walker do now?”
“Damn Day. How do you ever find anything in this big ass kitchen? I feel like I’m in a bowling alley or something.”
I shook my head and walked to a drawer next to the refrigerator, handing over the bottle opener as she gave me a weak smile. She poured herself a glass and offered to do the same for me, but I waved her off. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“He’s still on that same shit as always. I don’t even know why I put up with it—I cater to that man and he just acts like nothing ever matter to him! I just wish he could recognize a good woman when he saw one...” She took a sip and settled into one of the stools at the kitchen island before letting out another long sigh. I’d heard this from Dahlia so many times it was starting to make my head hurt. Walker was a piece of shit and everyone knew it, even her. It appeared that everything she’d found mysterious and intriguing about him at the beginning of their relationship was finally starting to fade from her grace. “One of his boys hit me up and said he called me a slab the other day—right in front of a bunch of his friends! Like I’m just some ho off the street or one of them tricks from The Library or something. I’m just so sick of his shit.”
She downed the rest of her wine and began to pour another glass as I boiled over. “That son of a bitch!”
“You know how these Gigglemug niggas are. They meet a cute girl from New Lorraine and act like they can say and do whatever they want because of where we’re from. I’m fucking tired of it! I just… I need a place to crash. Walker has been hounding me ever since he found out I knew, trying to make it seem like his friend is just making things up.”
“Say no more. I’d actually be happy to have some company.”
“Good. I just need to get low for a few days.”
“No problem at all. In fact, you can help me plan this dinner party next week. I swear I’m in over my head on this thing.”
“Why do you always put so much pressure on yourself? People just want to show up, eat some decent chow and not die—no one said you had to be Julia Child.”
“It’s my first one in the new house, you know? I just want everything to be perfect. The grocer has been out of Irish butter for the past three weeks and I really want to make my special potatoes.”
“So use the regular stuff—it’ll be just as good. God, you’re such a stickler for things. How many people are you even inviting to this shindig?”
“It should be around ten or so. Hampton and Jo will be there, of course. He also mentioned bringing one of his interns... Morris something.”
“Oh, I know him,” she said with a smile as I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t know him—but Hampton introduced me the last time I was at the firm. He was kinda cute.”
I smirked. “Do you really think you should be jumping from one guy to the next so fast?”
“Oh my God, Day. You can think someone’s attractive without it being a declaration at wanting more. Who else is coming?”
“Well, Bishop is dropping by soon. I’m going to see if him and the wife are free. Besides that, just the artists who are working on the gallery. And you, obviously.”
“Oh dope—did you go with any of the folks I suggested?”
“Yes, a couple have already completed their paintings, in fact. I still have one more I need to take care of though.”
“See? I told you using some folks from The Wealth was the way to go! These people out here don’t know anything about real art,” she let out excitedly, finishing off her second glass of wine. “So it sounds like this dinner is just going to be the family and a couple folks from around the way... remind me again why you’re stressing so hard?” I gave a small shrug. She started to gaze around the room and I found myself curious about what she thought. “I still can’t believe you actually bought this big ass house. I mean, don’t you feel nervous being here by yourself all the time? What if somebody breaks in or something?”
“Security was the first thing I took care of when I moved in. I have cameras, a high-frequency alarm and shatter-proof windows. I have three locks and a barricade on the back door that prevents it from being kicked in. My bedroom door is made of steel which locks from the inside automatically and requires a number code to enter. All it takes is the press of a button for me to turn it into a full-on panic room. Not to mention, I have a different weapon hidden in every room of this place and secret tunnels that connect to different rooms. I even had a consultant come in and help me assess all the blind spots I hadn’t considered yet. I’d never be able to sleep here at night without knowing I was fully protected.” Dahlia’s eyes grew wide at the mention of all my preventive measures as I shrugged sheepishly. “You can never be too careful, you know?”
“But even still, don’t you get tired of being alone?”
“I love the solitude most of the time. There’s just something about having your own space, living within your own aura... and being able to work from home every day has been life-changing. Everything operates on my own schedule now. It’s just...” I paused briefly before smiling to myself. “This is exactly what I’ve been dreaming of since I left New Lorraine: living in a big house, making real money, knowing I really made it on my own.”
She took another look around the room. “I guess I see what you mean. I’m happy for you, sis.”
We sat in silence for a moment, letting the conversation hit a dead stop. I couldn’t tell if I was imagining things or not, but I hated feeling like I was flaunting my wealth in her face. I was proud of my home and all the effort I’d put into it, but I didn’t want to be insensitive to her situation either. A loud ring from the doorbell interrupted my quiet thoughts.
I decided to ignore the awkwardness between us and gave her a smile. “Go on up, pick any room you want. Each one has a private bath with towels and washcloths and soap, if you want to shower or something. I have some work to do in the courtyard, so if you want to come back down and chill later, feel free.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ma grab another bottle of wine and let my hair down.”
She gave me a tight hug, before retreating back to the fridge for a second bottle of pinot. Another urgent ring from the doorbell lulled me towards the entrance as I watched Dahlia slink her way upstairs, already appearing to look forward to her own form of solitude.
***
I rushed upstairs, pissed at myself for the way things had turned out. I felt hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes as I did my best to keep myself together until I was well out of sight. I punched in the code next to my bedroom door and pushed it open. Once inside, I laid across the bed, weeping and feeling sorry for myself.
I had spent months preparing for this dinner, and somehow, it had still fallen short. All the planning and money spent suddenly felt like a huge waste. A soft knock at the door shook me from my pity party. I was hoping they’d go away if I didn’t answer, but something told me they wouldn’t. “Who is it?” I squeaked out.
“It’s Ham.”
I let out a final sigh and wiped away my tears. I walked over to the door and opened it an inch wide to conceal my melancholy. “Is everything okay?”
“You tell me—wait, have you been crying?”
“No, I just...” I let out a sigh. There was no use lying to Hampton. He always knew the truth anyway. I opened the door wide and looked him in the eye, before dropping them back to the floor. He lifted my chin and I shrugged out a sigh. “I messed up the food. My potatoes burned because of that cheap-ass butter, the lamb was dry and half my buttonelles were still raw in the middle. I’m just... it’s fucking frustrating. I’ve been cooking since this morning, and somehow, things still didn’t turn out right.”
He shook his head. “Good Lord, Day—when are you going to stop being so hard on yourself? There’s barely any food left down there. People who lick their plates clean rarely have complaints.”
I shook my head. “It just wasn’t perfect.”
“Why does it need to be perfect? Everyone ate and got full. Why can’t that be enough?”
“It’s not just about what everyone else thought—I knew I could’ve done better.” He looked at me as if he wanted to say more, but ultimately kept whatever comment was brewing in his brain to himself. A long pause sat between us for several moments. Even though I knew he was probably right, I couldn’t combat the lump that was forming inside my stomach from falling short.
“Well, look... we’re really missing you down at the party. Everyone keeps wandering where you went. Plus, Walker keeps telling his terrible jokes and making folks uncomfortable—I still don’t know why you invited him.”
“I didn’t. He’s been dropping by every other day, asking about Dahlia... I just couldn’t get him out the house this time. I figured once she left the party, he would too. He’s been weirder than usual tonight. I should’ve known everything would go wrong once he showed up.”
Hampton leaned against the doorway. “Want me to get rid of everyone? I can tell them you’re sick or something.”
I took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I was sabotaging my party for no reason. If everyone loved the food, I had to let that be enough, at least for tonight. I could always just make sure everything was perfect the next time around. I was just going to do my best to enjoy the rest of the evening. “I’ll be fine. I just... need a moment, you know? To get my head together. I’ll be down in a few, okay?”
“Promise?” he asked with a warm grin.
I looked in his eye and let out a genuine smile. “Promise.”
“Okay cool. Take all the time you need. I think I’m gonna get myself some more of that punch.” He flashed me a final smile before turning towards the stairs. Before I realized what was happening, I caught myself staring at him as he descended back towards the first floor.
***
I sat there shaking, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Just like that, my best friend was gone. It had been hours since I’d seen the police wheel Hampton’s mutilated body to the ambulance waiting outside my house and it still felt like I couldn’t trust if what I’d seen had actually happened. It just couldn’t be true.
The steel door squeaked open and Detective Giovanni stepped inside slowly, seemingly wishing that he could be anywhere besides sitting across from me inside the cold interrogation room.
“Miss York, please know that you have my deepest sympathies for the death of your friend. I’ve been told that you two were like brother and sister.”
I sniffled, convinced I was stuck inside a nightmare I simply couldn’t wake up from. I looked the detective in his eyes. “Hampton was the only family I’ve ever had besides Dahlia. He’s always looked out for us, ever since the day we were dropped off inside New Lorraine. I just... I can’t believe he’s gone.”
The detective sighed, pulling a small notebook from his pocket and clicking open a pen. “I’m going to try my best to investigate this situation in the most respectful manner possible, but I still have to ask you some questions you may find... uncomfortable. Do you understand?” I nodded, still stuck in a haze of grief. “Okay good. First, can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted to do him harm?”
“Absolutely not. We’re all like family. I mean, there were a couple guests, but for the most part—” I paused as my mind drifted off into an impossible assumption. Speaking it aloud would only make it sound more unbelievable, so I kept it to myself, even though it was the only explanation I could think of. I let out a long sigh before continuing. “Hampton hasn’t been happy for a long time. He’s got all this gambling debt he was trying to get out from under, they just lost a child... all he wanted to do was party and be a little carefree tonight. I never would’ve invited someone I thought he would have a problem with.”
“And what about his wife? Do you suspect any foul play on her part?”
I sighed hard. My impossible assumption was becoming clearer and clearer the longer I sat there inside my own thoughts. “Hampton loved Jo from the first he saw her. They got married quickly, but they’ve been together a long time. He‘s always been a hard worker, always made sure his family had enough.” I cleared my throat and breathed in deeply before speaking again. “But he’s mentioned to me on more than one occasion that Jo never seemed truly happy with him.”
“Do you think she‘s capable of something like this?”
“Do we know what anyone is really capable of these days? I mean, I know it’s a cliche—but she has the most to gain, right? I’m sure Hampton has a big-ass life insurance policy worked out for her if something were to happen to him.”
“I’ve spoken with her briefly. She seems genuine for the most part.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure she gave you the whole ‘we’ve never been happier’ spiel.”
“Is that not the case? You seem awfully distrustful of her, Miss York.”
“Jo isn’t a bad person—but Hampton made it pretty clear she’s checked out of their marriage and has been for awhile. He’s told me in so many words that they were only together for the kids. Hampton adores them and he knew he’d never get to see them if they divorced.”
“What exactly are you referring to?”
I let out a sigh. The more I spoke it out, the more I felt convinced that I was right. “Hampton always felt a lot of pressure to make sure Jo was happy. His whole family grew up in New Lorraine—but Jo moved to Gigglemug when she was five years old. Before that they were living in Johndale... her grandmother’s family has owned property there for generations. She’s never had to struggle... never had to eat fish everyday... never had to deal with racist-ass school officials just to ensure you can still receive your reparations... she’s never had to dream of what it’s like to make it one day. She’s had it made since day one. It’s why Hampton had such a gambling addiction in the first place. He never felt like he could make enough money for her—he was always trying to buy more and more of the things she claimed to need. It drove him crazy. I just wish he had the same luck with playing casino games as he did playing the market.” I shook my head yet again. I didn’t want to believe she could be so heinous, but nothing else made sense anymore either.
“Miss York, I’m hard pressed to accept a motive that Mrs. Hamilton murdered her husband in cold blood simply because he was born in New Lorraine.”
I shook my head. “I think she just wanted to be away from him. Even though he knew they were both unhappy, she also knew he’d never leave.”
“You seem pretty convinced that she’s the one responsible.”
I wasn’t sure if I really believed it or not, but it seemed to be the most plausible solution to me. “I just want justice for my friend. No one else would’ve wanted him dead.”
“Not even Mr. Gauff? He didn’t seem to have a kind word for him when we spoke.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Look, Walker is a terrible human being. He doesn’t have a kind word for anyone and most people are able to respond in kind—but murder? It seems farfetched, even for him. Not to mention, Hampton is twice his size.”
He leaned hard against the back of his chair and cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re not attempting to cover for him... or perhaps your sister? I know they were involved. And she appears to be MIA. My officers have been trying to contact her all morning.”
“Dahlia couldn’t wait to be away from him for good. The only reason she even attended the dinner was because she assumed Walker wouldn’t be there. Frankly, I didn’t expect to see him either. I’d never cover for him if he thought he had something to do with this.”
“And why do you think he ultimately decided to make an appearance at your residence last night?”
I shook my head. “Walker is just... Walker. He operates on a different kind of social spectrum than most. He more or less does what he wants, no matter how uncomfortable it makes others. It’s like he doesn’t quite perceive how his presence makes other people feel.”
“Yeah, I kinda noticed that too,” Detective Giovanni let out with a chuckle.
“It’s been going on for years and I still don’t know why my sister thought he’d be a good match for her. But I know for a fact that she didn’t have anything to do with Hampton’s murder. She loved him just as much as I did. It feels like a part of me is gone… like there’s a huge hole inside me. And once I let her know what happened, I’m more than certain she’s going to feel the same way. I just wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell her.”
“So you have no idea where your sister is? Or where she might’ve gone after she left your home last night?”
I shrugged. “As far as I know, she went straight home. She called me about twenty minutes after she left and said she’d made it in. I had no reason to believe otherwise.”
He studied me closely and cleared his throat. “You mentioned that you’d told your sister about some of the security features in your home—perhaps she doubled back and used that to her advantage.”
Rage began to glow beneath my eyes. “You really don’t get it... Hampton has been there for us a thousand times. He sacrificed himself and his own family’s needs to make sure we had what we needed growing up: clothes, shoes, toys, bundles of fish... I can’t tell you how many times he gave us money or produce when we only had grits and milk to keep ourselves fed. Even after all that, he taught us how to play the market, so we could make our own money. In fact, I was his very first client. If it wasn’t for Hampton, I never would’ve been able to leave New Lorraine in the first place. I never would’ve been able to afford that house. Everything has been due to him. Why the hell would Dahlia do something like that to a person who gave us so much?”
The detective scribbled something in his notebook and muttered under his breath. I couldn’t tell whether he believed me or not. I felt numb inside knowing Hampton was gone. I couldn’t imagine telling Dahlia what had happened. She would never be able to handle it. Tears fell from my eyes as it finally began to settle inside me that I’d never see Hampton again. There were so many conversations we hadn’t had yet. So many things left to discover about one another. So many things left unsaid. I looked at Detective Giovanni and felt helpless at the fact that I’d inadvertently invited Hampton’s murderer into my home.
He closed his notebook with a thwap and studied me closely. “Miss York, I want to be honest—I don’t believe you or your sister had anything to do with Mr. Hamilton’s demise. I can tell that you felt a great deal for him and I can’t see you treating him in such a manner. But there’s something that’s been bothering me ever since you first mentioned it.”
“And what’s that?”
He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “We found Mr. Hamilton inside your bedroom… so if a code is required to enter, how was he able to get inside?” I immediately stopped the tears streaming down my face and looked him squarely in the eye. “We also don’t seem to have any camera footage for the door in the rear of your house. Did you hand over all the files you had or just the ones you wanted us to see?”
I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. “I want to speak to my lawyer.”
“Excuse me?” he asked with his eyes wide, taken aback at my request.
“I’m not saying another word until until my attorney is present.” I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, refusing to avert my gaze until Detective Giovanni simply nodded and stood from the table with a smile on his face.
“Smart move,” he said with a smug grin. “I’ll make sure we inform your attorney as soon as possible.” He walked out of the room and I expelled all the air choking my lungs before bursting into a fit of tears.
Gregory Hedgepeth is the editor-in-chief of Vital Narrative Press. You can follow him on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. Feel free to follow on all three. Or maybe just two. Yeah, two’s probably good—he’s not that interesting. Gregory Hedgepeth is also the author of MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT SUNRISES, THE YEAR THAT ANSWERED and A COLLECTION OF ECHOES. BUY THAT SHIT.