‘I’m still trying to figure out what’s gotten into you,’ I said as he got into my car. ‘Two years ago you would never do something like this. Then out of the blue, you turn your private residence into a carnival. I’m worried. Not to mention the threat of an electrical fire. I know I’ve given you my opinion before on this, but I feel strongly . . .’
‘And maybe I feel strongly, too.’
He fastened his seat belt and got out a cigarette.
‘How would you react if I started decorating my house like that and left lights hanging around all year round?’
‘Same way I would if you bought an RV, put in an above-the-ground pool and started eating Bojangles biscuits every day. I’d think you lost your friggin’ mind.’
‘And you would be right,’ I said.
‘Look.’
He played with the unlit cigarette.
‘Maybe I’ve reached a point in life where it’s do it or lose it,’ he said. ‘The hell with what people think. I ain’t going to live more than once, and shit, who knows how much longer I’m gonna be hanging around, anyway.’
‘Marino, you’re getting entirely too morbid.’
‘It’s called reality.’
‘And the reality is, if you die, you’ll come to me and end up on one of my tables. That ought to give you plenty of incentive to hang around for a long time.’
He got quiet, staring out his window as I followed Route 6 through Goochland County, where woods were thick and I sometimes did not see another car for miles. The morning was clear but on its way to being humid and warm, and I passed unassuming homes with tin roofs and gracious porches, and bird baths in the yards. Green apples bent gnarled branches to the ground, and sunflowers hung their heavy heads as if praying.
‘Truth is, Doc,’ Marino spoke again. ‘It’s like a premonition, or something. I keep seeing my time running short. I think about my life, and I’ve pretty much done it all. If I didn’t do nothing else, I still would have done enough, you know? So in my mind I see this wall ahead and there’s nothing behind it for me. My road ends. I’m out of here. It’s just a matter of how and when. So I’m sort of doing whatever the hell I want. May as well, right?’
I wasn’t sure what to say, and the image of his garish house at Christmas brought tears to my eyes. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses.
‘Don’t make it a self-fulfilled prophecy, Marino,’ I said quietly. ‘People think about something too much and get so stressed out they make it happen.’
‘Like Sparkes,’ he said.
‘I really don’t see what this has to do with Sparkes.’
‘Maybe he thought about something too much and made it happen. Like you’re a black man with a lot of people who hate your guts, and you worry so much about the assholes taking what you got, you end up burning it down yourself. Killing your horses and white girlfriend in the process. Ending up with nothing. Hell, insurance money won’t replace what he lost. No way. Truth is, Sparkes is screwed any way you slice it. Either he’s lost everything he loved in life, or he’s gonna die in prison.’
‘If we were talking about arson alone, I’d be more inclined to suspect he was the torch,’ I said. ‘But we’re also talking about a young woman who was murdered. And we’re talking about all his horses being killed. That’s where the picture gets distorted for me.’
‘Sounds like O.J. again, you ask me. Rich, powerful black guy. His former white girlfriend gets her throat slashed. Don t the parallels bother you just a little bit? Listen, I gotta smoke. I’ll blow it out the window.’
‘If Kenneth Sparkes murdered his former girlfriend, then why didn’t he do it in some place where nobody might associate it with him?’ I pointed out. ‘Why destroy everything you own in the process and cause all the signs to point back at you?’
‘I don’t know, Doc. Maybe things got out of control and went to shit. Maybe he never planned to whack her and torch his joint.’