Hard Secrets, Soft Heart

By R. E. Blythe

About the Book
When a teenage boy is accused of murder, one private investigator must find enough evidence to support a “justifiable homicide” defense. Hard Secrets, Soft Heart sheds light on the universal subject of child abuse, a topic is still often taboo, especially in the African American community. But no matter how shattering, if some secrets are kept, there can be even more dire consequences.
About the Author
R. E. Blythe is now in his fifties, but he has wanted to write a book ever since he was a young man with his dream being to become a professional author. Growing up, he was a computer geek. He left the corporate world to pursue his dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Feb 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889256151

Book preview

Chapter 1

The honeymoon phase was definitely over in the Corliss/Harper household. Over the last few months, it was commonplace for there to be an air of agitation surrounding everyone. Nate, Ranetta, Roland, Jimmy, and little Angela carried with them an unexplained agitation and today, unfortunately, was not any different.

Roland! Roland! Boy, what is taking you so long? You know your mama is waiting for you!

Roland was tired of being barked at by Nate. He hardly ever got a kind, gentle, or pleasant tone from that voice.

I’m coming Da- Nate! Roland makes blunders like that often, but he always manages to catch himself.  I’m just putting everything away like you said.

Hurry up! And don’t make me tell you again!

Roland was in his parents’ room, putting away the laundry. That was his job every Saturday. Wash, fold, and put away. Him, his little brother and little sister’s, and Nate’s. His mom’s stuff was ‘off limits’ because of her ‘girlie’ type underwear and stuff like that. Nate said that his mama would be uncomfortable with him putting that stuff away, so he was supposed to leave it for her to do. Roland didn’t care, because he didn’t like putting any of it away in the first place. He hated doing chores. None of his friends at school ever talked about having to do chores. Nate was mean like that.

I put the stuff away, Nate. Everything in it’s place.

Roland had been told too many times before about where everything was supposed to go, and he got a slap on the head if he didn’t do it right. Sometimes Nate hits too hard, and he didn’t want to be hit again today.

You know I’m going to check. It better be right. And I heard you getting ready to call me Daddy. It’s okay if you do that, son. Your brother and sister do, so you can too. I would like that.

But Nate was not his daddy. Roland’s real daddy died some years ago in an accident at work. Nate was his stepdaddy or better told, the man his mom married. He doesn’t act like a daddy. He doesn’t take care of them. He doesn’t work. He just drinks when his mother isn’t there and then sleeps all day.

Why is this box moved? Nate’s voice was escalating to anger. I told you not to touch this box when I’m not around. It’s dangerous.

Roland’s eyes got as big as silver dollars, but he was quick with an answer. I dropped my ball, and it went under the bed. When I grabbed it, I must have accidentally bumped the box. During his explanation, he revealed the blue and white, pocket-sized rubber ball that he always liked to play with. See?

It was a plausible alibi.

I guess, but I think you are lying. You lie a lot, don’t you?

Nate was always agitated with Roland for one thing or another. As a thirteen-year-old, it seemed like he couldn’t do anything right.

And only because your mama said she was making you go to the library is the reason I’m not whooping your ass for getting into a fight at school.

Nate and Roland had already ‘discussed’ this the night the fight happened so Roland knew Nate was just trying to put on a good show for Ranetta.

But I won, Roland was confident in himself and his reply. Ain’t that what you taught me? If I’m going to fight, I better win?

Roland had learned to spar with Nate over these last four years. Nate’s mind was a checkerboard, but Roland had learned to play chess.

Yeah, you did whoop their asses. I’ll let you slide this time. Now go on and get your things so your mama doesn’t have to wait any longer.

Mama, why can’t I go and get ice cream with Nate and Mr. Saint James? Roland’s voice contained more concern than agitation or despair with his question.

Roland, I already told you. You are not going to be rewarded for fighting in school. You managed to get yourself kicked out too. And for what? Fighting over a little fast-ass girl. Ranetta was less than pleased with this outcome and it showed on her face and tone. The boy standing in front of her with his child-like innocence had turned into something she couldn’t fathom. I was at the hospital when they brought those boys into the emergency room. One of them boys might lose a testicle because of you.

She ain’t fast and those boys should have kept their hands to themselves.

Roland’s tone was justifiably defiant, and he was proud. Right now, he was standing a little taller with his chest poked out as he thought about what he had done. There was no remorse in his voice or mannerism, and he knew his mother could tell. He knew he was a hero now. Not like the ones he sees on TV, or he pretends to be in his Dungeons and Dragons group. He protected Connie and he was proud.

Don’t talk back to me, boy. I’m still in the mind to put a strap to your ass for good measure. And what made you hurt those boys that way? You did not fight fair, Ro Ro.

Roland couldn’t understand why his mother was responding this way. ‘What’s fair about a fight?’ he thought. Mama, there were two of them and they punched me hard and slammed me on the ground. They were ‘feeling on’ Connie and she told them to stop. They wouldn’t stop, so I made them stop. And I don’t care if I broke their dicks off. They won’t do that to anybody again.

Don’t you raise your voice to me Roland Andre Harper. You think you ‘Billy Bad-Ass’ now don’t you? Ranetta couldn’t stop herself as she slapped Roland across the face. She had never struck Roland before unless she was using a belt or switch and she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. Get your things together because you are going to the library. And where’s your backpack?

I don’t know. I must have left it at school. I remember dropping on the ground before the fight and I haven’t seen it.

I thought you took it over Connie’s house last night?

Nobody noticed that Nate had been standing in the doorway of the kitchen, partially blocking the hallway.

Nate, did you let Roland leave the house after I told you he was on punishment?

Roland was glad to see his mother’s anger shift to Nate. His face was still stinging from the blow, but it seemed to almost go away with her every word.

Ranetta, I knew that boy was on punishment, but he was also her hero. He’s not going to see her for a week or two and I didn’t see what it would hurt.

Nate’s argument was weak at best, and his effort was nowhere near valiant. It was like his words were filling a void, but nothing can be filled with empty air.

Mama, I can use my old one right now and the assignments… Roland was showing his mother the old backpack that was overflowing with books and papers.

Ranetta cut him off mid-sentence. When did you become so irresponsible, Roland? What has gotten into you? Ranetta couldn’t hide her disappointment with Roland or with the chain of events leading up today. As she fastened Angela into the car seat in the back, Roland quietly moved himself into the front passenger seat. He turned to see Angie smiling at him and motioning for a hug. As he obliged his sister’s request, Ranetta was still in her mood and said, And I better not find out that you left the library and pretended to study. I am really mad at you Ro Ro, and I hope one day you tell me the truth of why you hurt those boys the way you did. And where did you learn to fight like that anyway?

I don’t know, Mama. I just started swinging and kicking. It’s not like I was doing karate or something like that.

Roland knew that ‘karate’ dig would hit close to home. Godfrey had promised Roland that he would enroll him in some kind of martial arts class before he died, and Ranetta always says there’s not enough money to do it now. Roland couldn’t help the continuous bitter sting of the loss of a loved one. So many seemingly unrelated things get messed up because of something bad happening in somebody’s life. Roland longed for the days when good things would start to happen again.

Ranetta continued to show her displeasure of what had occurred in school because she made sure to walk Roland to his seat and she spoke  loud enough to disturb the other people in the area when she was talking to the librarian asking her to give a report if her son left this area for any reason. In her continued anger she pointed out to everyone within earshot how good a student Roland was, but he was slipping down the wrong path and she needed to ‘slow his roll’, whatever that meant. The grown-ups in the area smiled when she said that. To Roland it looked like they were all prepared to become snitches if they saw him step out of line. ‘Adults can be big jerks sometimes,’ Roland thought as he situated himself at the table. His old backpack was on the small side and his books spilled out onto the table when he tilted it. He wondered if the people around him knew that he did that on purpose.

Instead of studying his lessons, Roland studied the people around him. There was an old man reading magazines, and the two teenagers in the corner looked like they were gossiping more than studying. They weren’t girls he recognized so he didn’t waste his time waving at them. As he got up to go to the stacks, he noticed another teenage couple kissing and feeling all over each other. They were startled when he pulled up next to them to get the books, he needed for his geography report on Spain. He smiled and the teenage boy smiled back with a wink and went back to his business. The girl wasn’t so frisky after that, and Roland smirked as he walked away. When he noticed the librarian not at her station, he put his books back into the backpack, pushed in his chair and walked out the back entrance. He knew his mother wouldn’t be happy when the librarian snitched, but it wasn’t going to matter.

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Hi Mr. Cox. Roland was always quick to greet the bus driver with a smile and a fist bump.

As he returned the fist bump, Harvey Cox gave a similar greeting. Hey Roland. Where you headed today?

I’m going over to my Uncle Jack’s house. My mama had a hair appointment for her and my sister so she couldn’t take me and my stepdaddy promised that I would mow my uncle’s lawn today. We only had one car, so I had to get on the bus. My Uncle Jack said that if I do a good job we will go to Caravelli’s Creamery and Confec- Confe-… Sometimes Roland had a hard time with the word confections.

Do you know what street you are going to? I can let you know where you need to get off to get you as close as possible.

Yes sir, I do. My stepdaddy taught how to ride the bus over there, but it must have been a day that you weren’t doing this route. I’m going to thirteen forty-six Sunnyvale Lane.

Roland was happy that Mr. Cox was driving the bus today and he hoped his little lie would be plausible. Mr. Cox was always cool and helpful, and Roland was sorry for lying to him.

Yeah, probably so. My gout has been acting up lately but it’s not so bad today. Yeah, my route goes right by there. I’ll yell back when I am getting ready to stop for you. You will have to walk a couple of blocks after that, but then you will be right there. Mr. Cox was talking while pulling away from the curb and Roland was taking a seat as close to the driver as he could. His Mama always told him to sit as close to the driver as he could when he was by himself on the bus. She was always worried about him.

Roland always liked taking the bus around the city. He got to see all kinds of different places. He always liked the big high-rise buildings. He liked to see the people bustling along too. He especially liked it when he, his mama, and his real daddy used to take the bus to the park. He was sad when his father died, because that part of Mama died with him. He hoped someday that life would come back to her.

The bus was relatively empty when an older woman said, Young man? Young man?

Oh, yes ma’am. I didn’t know you were talking to me. Roland was a little startled.

Is that your toy gun on the seat?

Roland had to hide the fear he felt coming over his face. Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I didn’t know it fell out of my pocket. Before boarding the bus, Roland had taken the gun out of his backpack and put it in his waist like he saw some of the men do on TV. He wasn’t prepared for it to slip out and be visible to everyone.

Lordy, Lord. They make them toys look more and more real every day. Young man, please be careful with that. You might be too young to remember when that boy got killed for having toy gun, by the police no less.

People were always thinking Roland was younger than he was due to his small stature. Yes, ma’am, I promise to be careful. After ice cream, I’m going to play ‘Cops and Robbers’ with some of my friends in the park. At this point Roland didn’t care whether his story was believable or not.

Roland. Here’s your stop. Your Uncle’s house is just a few more blocks down that way. Mr. Cox slowed the bus to a gentle stop, pointed in the direction that Roland should walk and gave Roland another fist bump as he departed.

Roland was glad he remembered his backpack as he walked down the street. It was getting heavier than he thought it would be. Damn, I forgot my water. Roland was angry at himself for forgetting that. He quickened his pace towards Jack’s house. Hopefully he would get a chance to have a drink when he got there.

Roland had been to this house a few times before to do odd jobs. As he approached, he did not see Uncle Jack’s car in the driveway, and he already knew that there was no room in the garage for it because Uncle Jack had all kinds of other stuff crammed in there. It looked like one of those houses on that show Hoarders and it was just as nasty. The lawn mower was in there, so he started around back to get it.

Young man, what are you doing over here? The old voice was gruff and menacing.

My Uncle Jack said I’m supposed to mow his lawn today. So, I thought I would get started before it gets too hot.

Well, can’t you see, he ain’t there? The old man got up from his flowers in the front yard to come near the fence and get a closer look at Roland. Roland could tell that he didn’t believe his story.

I’ve got the keys right here, and I know the door combination. Roland held up his own house keys to show the neighbor something. Sometimes old people are just too busy for their own good.

Oh, okay. I think I seen you here before with another man, right?

Yeah, that’s my stepdaddy. He had to go with Uncle Jack, and they wanted me to get started. They said if I do a good job, they will take me for ice cream.

The old man began to chuckle. Yeah, Jack sure does like his ice cream. Okay, just make sure you lock up after yourself. And remember I’m over here watching you so don’t have any of your ‘hoodlum’ friends over. I ain’t as stupid as you think I am.

Yes sir, I won’t. Roland thought shining this old man on was too easy. He didn’t even have the sense to ask Roland who he was. Roland thought that this man wanted to just feel important, and he was easy to brush off. Roland walked through the gate in the driveway that separated the front and back yards and entered the house through the back door. After setting his backpack down, he took the gun out from his waist and headed down the hallway to the back bedrooms. Methodically he swung each door open only to find them all completely empty and undisturbed. ‘Damn. they’re not here yet, and that old man next door saw me. I’ve got to figure this out.’ Roland’s plans were unraveling, and he needed to get it back under control. ‘Maybe I can catch them at the ice cream shop?’ Roland remembered to slurp some water out of the faucet after he finished going to the bathroom. He was cautious when he was leaving the house and made sure that the next door neighbor was not outside when he went walking past his house in the direction of the ice cream shop. ‘Hopefully, I don’t miss them again.’

Hey little man. You okay? Roland was startled as he was coming out of his daze concerning what was getting ready to happen. The old man went unnoticed up until he spoke.

Yeah, I’m okay. He didn’t even look up, but he noticed the cane the old man was walking with. His grandfather had a cane like that. His mind was going back and forth from a pleasant time in life to some very unpleasant recent events. His childhood was beginning to blur with each step he took.

Roland began to think, ‘Is it too many people around here now? Will I have to hurt other people so I can get away?’ He silenced his mind and bit back his fear because there was more at stake than his fear. His pace began to slow now. Just a few more steps. ‘Damn!’ Jack and the little boy came out of the ice cream shoppe and caused the bell door to chime. Roland never liked the sound of that bell. It didn’t bring pleasant memories to mind. ‘Where’s Nate?’ Roland was thankful he could see his little brother, but his mind was racing because his prey was no longer in the expected ‘kill zone’. He had heard that term in the history documentary on the Kennedy Assassination and from JFK the movie. He saw those a few days apart from each other and that always stuck with him. ‘I can’t let this happen to Jimmy.’ Roland knew that Jack would be headed towards the house, and he couldn’t let Jack take Jimmy there. His heart was about to beat out of his chest and then it was time to handle his business.

‘Good,’ he thought. ‘There are no other people coming in or out. I have a clear shot. I have to be careful not to hurt Jimmy.’ Roland’s mind was calm now and there was no sound. He could hear the pace of his heart, but it was beginning to slow to normal. It was necessary because heroes are never scared.

As Roland raised the gun, he could hear the voice of his stepfather, Nate, ringing in his ears: Remember son, use the proper two-hand grip like I showed you and aim a little lower than where you want to shoot. The weapon will ‘kick’ high, and you will hit the target higher than you think. Nate had been drumming that into his head for the last three years and it was finally going to come in handy. Nate was good for something after all.

The old man turned and smiled with that shit-eating grin he always had on his face when he heard Roland yell out his name. Hey Roland. How you doin’? Your step-dad said you weren’t going to make it, otherwise we would have waited for you. He didn’t seem surprised to see the gun Roland was holding and he obviously never made the connection. He was in the middle of his next sentence when the shots rang out. Bam… Bam... Bam... Roland was surprised at the look on Jack’s face as the blood began to fill his shirt in the belly and chest areas. He thought to himself, ‘The gun didn’t kick as much as I thought it would.’ Time began to slow again, and though the street was busy with people and cars, the silence was deafening.

The little boy began screaming but Roland couldn’t hear him. That was not important to the next steps that had to take place. As he walked towards Jack’s dying body, he pulled a yellow handkerchief out of his pocket that was double knotted with a green one. He was careful not to wipe off the gun and as he knelt with his knee on Jack’s thigh, he didn’t notice that gunshots do make people scatter just like he had seen countless times on TV before. He didn’t notice the cars that had come screeching to a halt nor did he hear their screams.

He laid the gun and the handkerchiefs down on Jack’s chest and said, Green and Gold forever, baby. I hope there is a special place in Hell for people like you. He sat there for a moment and watched the last inkling of life scratch itself from Jack’s horror-filled eyes. Roland thought, ‘Yeah, I bet he’s looking at Hell now. Good riddance, motherfucker.’

A coldness, like Roland had never experienced before seemed to spring from his heart and he wondered if this is what it felt like to be ‘hard’ like Concho or Rock. He was surprised to see Jack’s dead hand still holding on to the little boy he left the ice cream shop with. He yelled the boy’s name twice without receiving a response.

James Horatio Harper, let go of Jack’s hand right now!

He now had the younger boy’s attention. Ro- Roland? What did you do Roland? Why did you do that? You scared me! Roland, you made me mess myself.

The little boy hadn’t noticed the coldness of death he was now holding in his hands, but he was now the Jimmy Roland was waiting for.

Jack was a ‘Nasty Man’ Jimmy. He deserved to be dead and now he is. Give me the toy that he gave to you because you can’t play with it anymore.

Another man gave me one too. Can I keep it?

No! Give them all to me now!

Roland could tell that Jimmy was scared now, but he gave Roland both the ‘Army Men’, pocket-sized, action figures that he now had. Roland placed them on Jack’s body under the handkerchiefs as well. But he was careful, not to wipe them down. He also rummaged through Jack’s pocket grabbing the money and his keys. This was going better than he thought it would.

Time was beginning to speed to normal again. Go back into the ice cream shop, wait for the police, and tell them you want your mama to get you. Do you understand me?!

Yes Roland, I understand. I’m scared. Jimmy’s voice was soft and very troubled. Roland knew he had never been this type of scared before.

Little brother, go into the bathroom and clean yourself up, the best you can. Mama will come and get you after the police come and you won’t be scared no more. Wait for Mama and go on now.

Roland opened the door, shoved little Jimmy through it, and ran down the alley between the two buildings. He had another place he needed to be

Chapter 2

Marcellus hated when his nights began alone, and his knees were killing him.  This was a night of quiet desperation and ice packs nursing two old war wounds that after seven years still have shown no signs of letting up or providing him with any ‘mercy’. It was nights like this when he would curse his own namesake as well as his dream. Having never smoked, or drank, he didn’t know if there was a euphoria that could be found in such behavior. It was going to be a long night, and tonight's lover was the cruel bitch of past misfortune. Her only gift was the haunting of pain and the reoccurring nightmare that he couldn't escape.

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USC versus UCLA. The game of the season. Marcellus had been looking forward to this all year long. If UCLA won no other games this year, he was going to be damn sure that they were going to win this one. It was a cool California Saturday, and the crowd was at capacity. As a junior, he was already getting the attention from the NFL scouts and agents who were all urging him to make himself eligible for the draft at the end of this season. He was ready, and the powers that be knew he was ready. He knew the only thing that would keep him in college was if he didn’t win the Heisman Trophy this year. He knew his competition was stiff from those running backs out of Alabama and Stanford, and that quarterback out of Clemson, but none of them was as ‘pretty’ as him. He did admire that dude from Alabama though. He knew he couldn’t sleep on the small back out of Stanford either. And the quarterback, well everybody must always look out for the quarterback if they get their groove on and don’t peak too soon. If he rushed like he wanted to today, he would make the world notice.

USC’s defense was tougher than he thought they would be. It was the third quarter, and he still hadn’t gained one hundred yards on the ground.

Man, what’s up with y’all? Can’t you keep a hole open for me? Mercy was in full ‘prima donna’ mode at this point. I’m ready to run all over these fools!

Everyone in the huddle knew he was right, but USC seemed to have their number today. Mercy’s raw talent was helping to move the ball, but they needed to put more points on the board. UCLA was already in the lead, but another touchdown here and they might be able to put the game out of reach.

Mercy, you are not the only one on the field today. Good ol’ Steiner, captain of the line, trying to keep Marcellus grounded. Don’t let all that attention and press go to your head. It is only the third quarter, and we have plenty of time. We’re going to make it happen for you. Then you can do your ‘Gayle Sayers’ imitation and break this thing wide open.

Steiner and Marcellus had become good buddies since they first arrived on the campus of UCLA. Both were exemplary student-athletes. Marcellus was going into communications in preparation for a career after his NFL days where he could be on ESPN, the NFL Network, or calling the games with one of the national networks. Steiner wanted to work with kids and be a teacher. He believed that molding the minds of young athletes for something other than sports was a necessary vocation, and he was the man for the job. Steiner always cited his high school coach as the one who turned him around and helped him get to UCLA and if he could do that for other kids, then his life would have a purpose. Marcellus always thought his purpose was to look pretty first. He admired Deion Sanders for that. Marcellus was ‘tripped out’ with Steiner’s reference to Gayle Sayers. Mr. Sayers was very old school from what Marcellus would call the ‘Extended Golden Age of Football’. Marcellus always bragged on the ‘eighteen inches of daylight’ comment that Mr. Sayers made and would say in defiance, I only need twelve. Steiner figured that a superior level of arrogance must accompany everyone who received the type of press Mercy did in high school, but he would be quick to remind Mercy that he himself also played on back-to-back high school state championship teams back in Nebraska too. Steiner didn’t get the press that Mercy did, but his blocks helped his teammates get that kind of press too and he was satisfied knowing that like them, Marcellus couldn’t do it without him.

Marcellus was in his third year at UCLA and his second as the starting tailback. Everyone believed that he should have started from day one, but the coaching staff didn’t believe in having freshmen usurp the upperclassmen based on high school accolades. Everyone, and they meant everyone, had to earn their way into the starting lineup. There were no free rides, and a player’s high school days were in the past, and their days at UCLA were the future but they were numbered. The coaches continuously reminded the players, especially the so called ‘stars’, that it was the coaches that were responsible for the numbering and not based on the musings of so called ‘prima donna’ players. Marcellus didn’t care. He was a member of the team and now he is on the field. And on the field, he was Marcellus ‘Show no Mercy’ Hargrove.

Damn, that punt set up back too deep in our own end. The quarterback clambered as he awaited the signals for the next play from the sidelines. Good. The coaches want to shake things up a bit. We’re moving away from the conservative set for this drive. There were smiles under every face mask