Page 77 of His Third Wife

“Ras. He’s dead.”

“What?” Kerry almost snickered.

“That was his lawyer. They found his body in his grandmother’s basement. He shot himself. In the head.”

“No. That doesn’t—”

“This don’t make sense, man!” Jamison started pacing the room. “No sense. He was—he was fine.”

“Suicide? That’s not like Glenn. He’s not like that. Was he depressed?”

“Depressed? No. I just talked to him. He thought he was like the next Malcolm X. He wasn’t depressed. Never. That wasn’t him,” Jamison said.

“I know.”

“Suicide? No! It can’t be. He wasn’t—he—! No, man! No!” Jamison’s pacing led him to a wall that he tried to push out of his way. “He wasn’t—This ain’t right. Suicide? No, Ras! Not like that.”

“I’m with you,” Kerry agreed. “It’s not like him. You think”—she looked at him before choosing her next words with caution—“something happened to him?”

Jamison kept pushing his wall. It seemed like everything was behind it.

“They did this. They did this! They did this to him!” He pushed away from the wall and turned to the center of the room with a grimace.

“Who?”

“Give me your keys?”

“Who? My keys? Why?”

“They did this. I know it,” Jamison said.

“They who?”

“I need your keys.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Kerry said. “I’m not giving you my keys.”

“I can’t let them get away with this. He was my friend. They killed him. I know it.”

“They who? No, Jamison,” Kerry said, trying to hold Jamison back from her keys on the counter. “You just left your mother’s funeral. You’re upset. You’re not thinking straight.”

“No, I’m clear. I’m very clear. I know what I have to do,” Jamison said. “I have to stop playing fair. No one’s playing fair.”

“Fine. If you know who killed Ras, let’s call the police. Let’s try to—”

“The police won’t do anything. They are the police,” Jamison explained, wrestling past Kerry and grabbing the keys.

“Don’t do this,” Kerry said. “I swear, it’ll all work itself out. You just have to be patient. Something is about to happen. I can’t tell you what, but it’s happening.” Kerry tried to keep Jamison from the door. “If you go out there and get yourself in trouble, I can’t help you.”

“I don’t need your help, Kerry,” Jamison said. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Jamison purposefully pushed Kerry to the floor to get out of the front door. He slammed it open and left it swinging behind him.

“Think of your son! Don’t do anything stupid!” Kerry cried, trying to get up to catch up with him. By the time she made it to the front door, her car was heading up the driveway. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone.

“He’s gone,” she said. “He has my car. I don’t know where he’s going, but it’s not good. We have to move now! We have to do something!”

“Calm down,” the person said. “I’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

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