What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(96)

Dan had also brought a bottle of red wine, one of his better Barolos.

As Tracy removed a sleeping Daniella from her car seat, the men approached from across the lawn. “You’re that policewoman who came to talk to Mr. Jones,” one of the men said.

“That’s right,” Tracy said.

“He invited you for Deiondre’s ribs?” The man smiled. “He must like you. He doesn’t pass out invitations to just anyone for Deiondre’s ribs.”

“I heard they’re the best in Seattle,” Tracy said.

“Best anywhere,” the man said.

“Will you be eating with us?” Tracy asked.

“Damn straight.”

They made introductions and the men led them around to the back of the house, offering to carry the coleslaw. Three picnic tables had been set with red-and-white checked table coverings on a concrete patio. One table contained enough food to feed a small army. Overhead, ornamental lights were strung, though not yet illuminated. Beneath the lights, perhaps fifteen people had gathered —talking and drinking beer, soft drinks, and wine.

“Detective,” Henderson Jones said. He wheeled over to her.

“I’m glad you made it. Glad you brought your family.”

“For the best ribs in Seattle, I wasn’t staying home,” Dan said, introducing himself.

Jones introduced Tracy to his daughter, Lachelle, her husband, and their two daughters, who were visiting from Southern California, as well as to his son Marshawn, his wife, and their three children.

Lachelle’s two girls, their hair in braids, touched Daniella’s shoes and put out their fingers for her to grip.

“And who is this beautiful thing?” Lachelle asked, holding out her hands to Daniella.

Tracy had dressed Daniella in a striped, long-sleeve shirt, dark-blue pants, and booties. She also wore a sweater and a cape. “This is Daniella.”

“Ooh, she is adorable. She looks just like you.” Lachelle looked to Dan. “No offense. You’re good looking too.”

“None taken,” Dan said. “I also think my wife is good looking.”

Lachelle looked to Tracy. “You got him trained well.” Tracy laughed. Lachelle took Daniella, who went without a fuss. Lachelle’s two little girls looked like someone had given them a doll to play with.

Henderson Jones considered the coleslaw and wine they were carrying and thanked them. “But I told you the only thing you needed to bring was your appetite.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dan said.

“Deiondre said the ribs will be off in ten minutes. You can put the coleslaw on the food table, and feel free to have whatever you like to drink. Make yourself at home.”

Tracy and Dan spoke to Jones’s children, and she could tell they were proud of and loved their father. His oldest, Marshawn, reiterated what Deiondre told her—they lost their mother to a heart attack, and their father had raised them by himself, working two jobs to make ends meet. “We had to grow up fast,” Marshawn said. “My father wouldn’t accept anything but excellence from any of us. And he told us if we were hanging around the drug dealers, he would hear about it, and he’d tan our hides.”

“He seems like a good father,” Tracy said.

“He is. He didn’t do it alone though. He used to say it takes a village, and our village included our grandparents, teachers, and coaches. My dad went to school at the start of every year and told our teachers that if our grades slipped he wanted to know immediately. He told our coaches if we didn’t do the work in the classroom, they were to bench us until we got our grades up. Never raised a hand to any of us, but he got his point across,” Marshawn said. “I want him to sell this place and come live with us. The market is hot right now. He can make a lot of money, and my kids would love having their grandpa around.”

“He doesn’t want to do it?” Tracy asked.

“This is his neighborhood. He grew up in this house and inherited it from my grandmother and grandfather. He’ll die here. He says when he dies, the sale of the home will be his final gift to each of his kids. We don’t want the money. He gave the three of us the ability to make money. We just want our dad.”

Deiondre announced the ribs were done, and you would have thought he’d just read off the lottery numbers and everyone in the yard had won. Their enthusiasm was understandable. Tracy took one bite, looked at Dan, and nearly fainted. The meat was so tender it slid from the bone, and it had an apple-and-oak flavor.

“That’s the wood,” Deiondre said. “Slow cooked so the meat absorbs the flavoring.”

Tracy and Dan ate until Tracy couldn’t touch another thing. The two little girls took turns feeding Daniella and made sure she was well taken care of. As darkness descended, someone turned on the overhead lights and Deiondre turned on music. People danced to Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, Diana Ross, and other rhythm and blues and soul artists. “This is music,” Henderson Jones said. “I didn’t let my kids listen to all that crap. They’re just singing about drugs and other things kids don’t need to be thinking about.”

“You raised three great kids. You should be proud.”

“Oh, I am. I truly am. So . . .” He wiped his mouth and set a paper napkin on an empty paper plate. “I imagine your curiosity has gotten the better of you, and your daughter’s bedtime is fast approaching.”