Devilish Details (14 page)

“No,” Jazz, Willa and Cedric chimed in
sync.

“You just said even if Higgins files a
lawsuit against the city of Baton Rouge it could be months, years
even,” MiMi argued.

“Higgins says he might find an investor for
Candy Girls. Why is that funny?” Jazz spat when Willa barked a
skeptical laugh.

“Who is going to invest in a small strip
joint in a seedy part of town? I’m sorry,” Willa said raising a
hand. “But we all know it’s true.”

“Real estate in mid-city is going up in
value. You might have noticed that more trendy businesses are
opening in the area,” Cedric replied. He nodded when the other
three looked at him in surprise. “Looks can be deceiving. The city
has demolished over a dozen houses that were being used by drug
dealers. The police are using high tech methods to track crime and
target gang activity. I have a couple of friends who are buying
property at the city auctions.”

“City auctions?” MiMi blinked at him.

“When folks don’t pay their property taxes,
the city has an auction. You pay the taxes, and the property
becomes yours. The previous owners have twelve months to offer a
settlement or appeal. I got Candy Girls and the building behind it
where I live when Lorraine owed taxes and couldn’t pay up.” Jazz
grinned when her friends gazed at her with appreciation. “I was
paying attention when she complained about her bills. Lorraine kept
saying she wasn’t going to give the city a dime until she got
ready. By the time she got ready, the fines and interest had
grown.”

“What a dumb move,” Willa said.

“Lorraine ran her business into the ground,
and still blames me for it. Now she’s got a shack on the last piece
of property she owns. She got sense enough to hurry up and pay
those taxes after she lost Candy Girls.” Jazz sighed. “But now I’ve
got new problems.”

“Well at least we can deal with the legal
system. What about Cleavon and Kyeisha?” Willa asked. She glanced
around at Cedric.

“He’s still locked up. The guy has
outstanding warrants, and other charges,” Cedric said.

“Yeah, he’s not going anywhere any time
soon,” Jazz added. “Plus, witnesses saw him with Kyeisha, so now
the police know he was the last person to have seen her. So he’s a
‘person of interest’ in her disappearance. I hear Lorraine is
scared spitless. Those two heffas were up to something.”

“Which is now
their
problem. So we’re
not going to look for any of Filipe’s missing money. My lawyer hit
a dead end tracing money Jack might have moved offshore. I don’t
know how he did, but somehow he left no trail,” Willa put in.

“Yes, let’s get back to the normal world
with no gang leaders, laundered drug money, or dead bodies,” Cedric
said with a deep sigh.

MiMi gave a deep sigh as well, of despair
instead of relief. She stood, picked up her designer purse and
stomped to the door. “Crap. I’ll have to keep my job and hope that
jerk comes through with an engagement ring.”

Jazz exchanged an amused look with the other
two as they watched her march out. “Life is so hard for a
frustrated gold digger.”

* * *

Two days later, Theodor T. Ames arrived. The
tall man with gray hair was dressed casually, but Jazz could tell
his clothes were expensive. He spent an hour quizzing Jazz on how
she operated the bar. His list of questions weren’t that long, but
he covered a lot. Ames spent a good thirty minutes looking at the
inside of Candy Girls. Then he walked around the perimeter of her
property in the right morning sunshine examining the exterior of
both buildings. It was ten o’clock and the Louisiana temperature
felt like high noon. Despite the muggy mid-May heat, Theodor T.
Ames looked cool. Mentally she called him by his full name because
that’s the way he’d introduced himself. First to Jazz in a rush of
words making sure he emphasized the “T” for some odd reason, then
he repeated the ritual when Byron pulled up. Both times he stuck
out a meaty hand to pump theirs as he said his name. Jazz watched
him from the doorway. When he walked out of view, Jazz and Byron
glanced at each other and shrugged. They went back inside Candy
Girls. Jazz sat at the bar. She read his business card and flipped
through a glossy brochure describing his corporation. Byron grabbed
himself a bottle of cola from the fridge behind the bar.

Byron arranged glasses in preparation for
the night business. “White guy pulls up in a Benz. Hops out wearing
pricey clothes and a seven thousand dollar watch. One of three
things goin’ on: He’s crazy. He’s brave cause he got a gun, or he’s
got a death wish.”

“I need him to hurry up. Fridays start being
busy around here early,” Jazz muttered.

“Hey, you told me he was going to be what
they call an ‘angel investor’. Sounds like you’re having second
thoughts,” Byron said.

“Second, third, and fourth.” Jazz sighed.
The fancy brochure made a slapping sound as she dropped it on the
bar surface. “I’ve always gone it alone. I’m not sure about giving
up part of my business to anybody.”

“Feels like selling your dream, huh? I know
what you mean.” Byron nodded.

Jazz looked at him with interest. She hadn’t
seen the philosophical side of him before. “Yeah, sort of like
that.”

“On the other hand, if you keep tryin’ to go
it alone you could lose everything. Either way is a risk. Gotta ask
yourself which one you’re willing to take. What’s his contract look
like?” Byron switched from lining up glasses to checking which
bottles were getting low.

“Bunch of legal crap that Higgins says it’s
standard language. Ames becomes my business advisor. I’m going to
get some work done around here. Fix the place up. I won’t spend
much. I figure my new investor’s money can pay for major
renovations,” Jazz said with a grin at the prospect of spending a
rich man’s cash. “Higgins says the smart entrepreneur always uses
other people’s money. I kinda like that way of thinking.”

“Damn, you better be careful. On the other
hand, if you don’t get some money to help run this place, you got
nothin’ anyway. Tough spot.” Byron squatted to check out the shelf
of bottles beneath the bar.

“Gee, thanks for being Mr. Sunshine,” Jazz
retorted. She picked up the brochure again.

“I’m just sayin’,” Byron responded with
another shrug.

Detective Don Addison pushed through the
front door. Despite the dark interior of the bar, he kept his
sunglasses on. Jazz couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked in
a tan cotton knit shirt and faded blue jeans. He gave Byron a
friendly nod as a greeting. Byron nodded back in silent man to man
“We cool” fashion. Seconds later, Byron discreetly faded down the
hallway leading to the club’s storeroom and offices.

“Morning. Who’s the suit pacing out front,
from the city?” Don sat down as if he belonged right next to
her.

From any other guy Jazz would have begun to
set him straight. Instead she smiled. Despite his annoying attempts
to protect her, Jazz liked knowing he wanted to help. She needed
friends she could count on; but a small voice reminded her this
cute cop was just that, a cop.

“Nah, he’s a potential investor. My lawyer
introduced us. I want to do more than serve up drinks and barbecue
ribs to sweaty men.” Jazz hopped from her perch and went around the
bar. Without asking, she got him a tall dark brown bottle of root
beer.

Don smiled broadly when she poured the soda
into a frosted mug. He took off his sunglasses. “Thanks, just the
way I like it.”

Jazz ignored the smoky look in his sexy
eyes, and the perfect cue for her to get sexy right back. “You’re
welcome. Anyway, I’ve got a business plan. I need capital to put
that plan in motion.”

“You don’t have to front with me, Jazz.
You’re under some pressure with the bad publicity and now the city
is trying to shut you down. I’ve got some savings,” Don began but
stopped when Jazz raised a hand.

“First, police officers don’t make much
money, and you’ve got bills. Second, have you lost your damn mind?
Your job would be in serious trouble if your bosses found out you
invested in this place. No, there isn’t a way for you to secretly
‘loan’ me some money,” Jazz pressed on when he opened his mouth to
respond. “This is a legitimate investor with the deep pocket I
need.”

“Yeah, but just how legit? Have you checked
him out?” Don took a swig of root beer.

“Stop talking to me like I have no sense,
please. My sister checked out his company. No indictments. His
company has no history of investigations by the SEC or the Better
Business Bureau, and Ames doesn’t have a criminal record.” Jazz
ticked off the points on four fingers.

Don’s eyebrows went up. “Doing your
homework. That’s good. Who is this lawyer you got?”

As if he’d been conjured up by Addison’s
questions, Godfrey Higgins strolled in. He wore another expensive
suit. “Whew, I’m glad your A/C is working. It’s ten in the morning
and already eighty-three degrees outside. I’m not looking forward
to July and August. Nice to meet you officer.”

“How’d you...” Jazz’s voice trailed off and
she glanced at Don.

“I know an unmarked police car when I see
one. No trouble I hope?” Higgins stood as though he wasn’t ready to
get comfortable around Don.

“Just friends visiting,” Don clipped.
“Detective Don Addison.”

“Godfrey Higgins. I have a general law
practice. Nice to meet you.” Higgins turned his attention to Jazz.
“I was in the area. I called Ted’s cell. Since he was still here, I
thought I’d stop by. How’s it going?”

“I don’t know. He’s hasn’t said much,” Jazz
replied.

“Don’t worry. I looked over his contract. I
didn’t see any worrisome clauses. I’ll go out and talk to him and
then set up a meeting. Sound good?”

“Fine with me,” Jazz said.

Higgins gave Don a cordial nod. “Y’all have
a good one.”

“You do the same,” Don replied in a dry tone
empty of sincerity. When the door closed behind Higgins, he gave a
grunt of disapproval. “I hope you checked him out, too. He’s got
sleazy lawyer stamped all over him in neon letters.”

“Why are you so cynical? Oh right, you’re a
cop,” Jazz retorted in answer to her own question. “Yes, and he
came highly recommended by a friend.”

“I sure hope you’re not planning on trying
something dicey with that guy’s help.”

“Such as?” Jazz said, more amused than
irritated. Clearly he knew her well.

“I’m not kidding around here, Jazz. Walking
the line, or crossing it, is a favorite sport of yours. One day
you’ll get in too deep.” Don frowned at her. “Like with
Filipe.”

“We’re through. The prison record isn’t
romantic,” Jazz wisecracked.

“His hobby of killing people he even thinks
crossed him isn’t all that charming either,” Don shot back without
cracking a smile.

Jazz sobered at his intense words of truth.
“I know. Look, I’ve got a kind of shady background myself, so I
don’t judge. But I’m done with Filipe. I’m not even in touch with
his boys. I hear he’s got two boo thangs visiting him on opposite
Sundays. He’s moved on from me, too.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Don said, his voice a
deep alluring burr.

“I know,” Jazz said and pressed her lips
together. Damn her big mouth.

Don laughed softly. “You checked me out
while you were at it, huh? I don’t blame you. So you know I pay
child support for two sons, ages ten and thirteen. My ex-wife
refused alimony, but you know that, too.”

“Hmm.” Jazz concentrated on wiping the
condensation from their soft drinks from the bar top.

“I’m not offended you ran a check on me.
Saves us time. We don’t have to play the usual games.” Don relaxed
against the bar.

Jazz gave him a head to toe look as she
rested her elbows on the bar as well. “Oh I don’t play bruh. I’m
always serious as can be when...”

“Me again,” Higgins called from the
door.

“How many exits you gonna take?” Don
muttered without looking around at him.

“Shush,” Jazz whispered. She pushed away
from the bar and walked to him. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Ted finished his assessment. I told him
there was no need to come in,” Higgins replied. His gaze remained
on Don’s broad back as he spoke. “I’ll let you know about that
meeting. Can we talk outside a minute?”

“Sure.” Jazz followed him through the door
without glancing back at Don.

“Your boyfriend must be jealous, huh? Not
too happy to see me show up,” Higgins said, his voice low and
confidential.

“I’m guessing Ames had something more to say
you wanna tell me,” Jazz replied mildly. She tilted her head to one
side as they stood in the one square of shade available.

Higgins gave a short laugh of appreciation.
“I do like your style, Ms. Vaughn. Ahem, yes. Ted likes the
potential of this property. You’re not far from a major
intersection. The lots behind you could become a nice retail area
in the next few years. He didn’t go into details, but I’m betting
he’ll help you build up your business and buy you out for a healthy
sum, enough cash to start another business.”

“Hey, I like the sound of that. I’m not
losing money now, but my margin is still slim.” Jazz stared off at
the neighborhood looking for the same potential Ames saw.

“Like I told you, this area is developing.
It may not look like it today, but soon you’ll notice. Two major
construction projects are about to start within a couple of miles
from here. Hard working guys looking to relax after work, some of
them from out of town.”

“Hard working guys with money to spend,”
Jazz said with a grin. “Guys who appreciate pretty women serving
those drinks, too. I could make a sweet profit and then sell the
property.”

“I can even put you in touch with a top real
estate broker who can find you a suitable commercial property.”