Devilish Details (20 page)

“No, and he made me promise to give him at
least forty-eight hours before I said anything. He’s been there for
me, even pretty much saved my rookie behind during a drug raid
once. So I gave him my word.”

“Good. You’re going to let that deadline
pass and keep your mouth shut. Here’s why,” Jazz said when Don’s
mouth flew open. “Your bosses would suspend you, and possibly have
you watched. If you don’t think so then you are dumber than I
thought. Don’t give me that big bad cop evil eye.”

“Humph,” Don replied.

“They’ll say
you’re
involved in
Kyeisha’s killing. You’d be giving yourself an alibi as much as
me.” Jazz paused in her rapid fire explanation to take a breath.
His expression tightened as her theories hit home. “You know I’m
right.”

“Yeah, but they could be thinking that
anyway,” Don said.

“We both know Miller hasn’t talked. If you
do, they’ll have more than station gossip.” Jazz nodded as she
processed her own theories.

“You’re facing a murder charge, Jazz. I
don’t see how me keeping quiet helps you,” Don said, his baritone
voice grim.

“Phillips is one of the best criminal
lawyers around. Not just in Louisiana, but in the southeast,” Jazz
replied.

“Which is why cops don’t like him,” Don
retorted. “He specializes in putting scum we clean up back on the
streets.”

“I’m counting on his skills at freeing
scum.”

“You’re probably the only innocent client
the guy’s represented in a decade,” Don said.

“Look at it this way, he gets to use his
powers for good in my case,” Jazz quipped. “Phillips is right. The
circumstantial case against me is weak, at least for now. I have a
feeling somebody is going make it more solid. Expect anonymous tips
and maybe some ‘evidence’ to show up.”

“Any idea who?” Don switched into detective
mode.

“Cleavon is obvious, but you know
something’s not adding up. He’s no planner, no big picture kind of
strategy dude.” Jazz frowned as she tried to rearrange the puzzle
pieces in her mind.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. He’s a mid-level
player at best. Could be Filipe is still working his game from
prison. It happens,” Don said. He sat down.

“None of his gang members left have the
nerve or brains to hold his operation together. The one or two that
might have are dead.” Jazz ran through the list of men left in
Filipe’s crew. She mentally eliminated each one.

“Which means you need my help,” Don
insisted.

“Yeah, but still on the force and able to
use the resources of the police department. Miller doesn’t like or
trust me one bit.” Jazz snorted.

“Armand is an honest cop,” Don said with
confidence.

“Maybe. But he’s got his theory of what’s
going on, and me being innocent ain’t part of it. Tell me I’m
wrong.” Jazz gazed at him hard. When Don shrugged, Jazz snorted
again. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay, but still...”

“You can’t help me if nobody downtown trusts
you, sweetie. Worse, we’re in the same boat if
you
become a
suspect. It could happen.” Jazz held up a hand when Don started to
speak again. “Put some distance between us. Date somebody else
even, and make sure Miller knows it. Don’t make a big show of
trashing me. He’ll see right through the act.”

“The way you’re bossing me around it might
not be an act.,” .

“Ha-ha funny man. You’re single, employed,
and good-looking. I’ll bet at least two women would be dressed and
ready if you called last minute for a date.”

“Emm...” Don brushed invisible dust from the
leg of his blue jeans.

Jazz sat up, eyes wide. She snapped her
fingers. “I’ll bet Miller and his wife even introduced you to one
of ‘em.”

“How do you know so damn much?” Don
muttered.

“Call her up. When Miller mentions it, and
he will, just play it off like you don’t wanna talk about your
personal business.”

Don crossed his arms. “You already know
Armand is going to ask me about Shelia.”

Jazz nodded with a smile. “I know women.
She’ll tell his wife, her good friend. The wife will tell
Miller.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, Detective.” Jazz rose and crossed to
him. She pushed him down on the red leather sofa against the wall
of her office. When Don didn’t look at her, Jazz straddled his lap.
“We had our talk. You’re free. I’m free. So don’t lie and say you
weren’t thinking up calling up this lady anyway.”

He placed his hands on her thighs. “Who were
you thinking of calling?”

Instead of answering, Jazz pulled the purple
knit t-shirt over her head. As Don watched, she unfastened the
front of her passion purple bra. She kissed him hard as she guided
his hands to her breasts. Before long Don wasn’t interested in the
answer to his question. The fact that the office door wasn’t locked
made their desire even more intense. If anyone had thought to knock
or enter, the noise they made no doubt tipped them off that Jazz
didn’t want to be disturbed.

One hour and a quick shower later, Jazz sat
in her office again going over the receipts for the night. At
almost one thirty in the morning the good times were winding down.
She didn’t even look up when the door opened. She assumed it was
Tyretta calling it a night.

“Be sure to help Rochelle fix up the kitchen
and dining area before you go. I know you hate housework, but
that’s why I pay you extra.”

Jazz glanced up prepared for an argument
from Tyretta. The one person she didn’t expect to see strolled in.
Lorraine looked around the office. She picked up carved wooden
African sculptures on a wall shelf, examined each, shrugged, and
put them down again. The forty-five year old woman was dressed in a
red tight knit sweater, black slim jeans and spike-heeled black
boots with silver studs. Her blonde weave made a bold contrast to
her chocolate brown skin.

“Humph. You painted and went all fancy on a
room hardly anybody will see,” she said.

“Returning to the scene of the crime as they
say,” Jazz drawled. She relaxed against the leather executive chair
back and picked up her glass of brandy.

Lorraine laughed. “Yeah,
your
crimes
according to the news and the DA.”

Jazz put the tumbler down with a thump.
“Nah, the scene where you set me up by bringing Kyeisha here. She
was supposed to be your friend.”

“I don’t have friends, only business
partners,” Lorraine replied with a casual wave of one hand.
“Speaking of business, yours seems to be doing okay considering all
your troubles.”

“Praise the Lord for loyal customers and
good management. So let’s clear the air, Lorraine. You lost this
property because of carelessness. Stop grinding a grudge that I
stole it from you,” Jazz said with blunt force. “Not my fault the
city caught on you weren’t paying enough sales taxes. Then you got
behind on property taxes, too.”

“Instead of helping me, you jumped on the
chance to twist the knife in deeper,” Lorraine said. The good
humored facade slipped as she glared at Jazz. Then she smiled. “But
that’s all in the past. You’re so right about the city being
keeping an eye on nightclubs. I kinda like how they’re doing their
jobs these days. When is your hearing by the way?”

“What do you want,” Jazz snapped, tired of
the game.

“Maybe I’m just nostalgic and want to see
the old place.” Lorraine walked around the room. “Or maybe I’m here
to help you out.”

“Oh really? I’m gone run outside and look
up, because pigs must be flyin’.”

Lorraine grinned. She sat down in the chair
facing Jazz’s desk. “Still got jokes. But I’ve got a serious
business proposition that you oughta listen to, Jazzed up.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Jazz
clipped.

“I know. Anyway, like I was saying, I’ve got
a solution to your problems,” Lorraine continued. She rested both
arms on the sides of the chair.

“Glad to hear it. What time do you plan to
see the DA and tell him who killed Kyeisha?” Jazz retorted.

Lorraine gave a short laugh. “Okay, not
all
of your problems. I said business remember. Defense
lawyers cost big money, and you got a pricey one. Sign my property
back over to me. I’ll give you twenty thousand in cash, plus all
the taxes and fees you paid.”

“So generous.”

“That was the value when you snatched it out
from under me,” Lorraine shot back, her smile gone. “We both know
you need the money.”

“I have money, from an investor. So thanks,
but no thanks. I’m good. See yourself out.” Jazz lifted the tumbler
of brandy in a mock salute and drank from it.

“That white dude won’t be so happy to do a
deal when all kinds of negative publicity keep hitting the streets.
How long will he want to be hooked up with a gangsta tied to a
murder and drug dealing? Not long I bet.” Lorraine pointed a bright
green lacquered nail at Jazz. “He’ll change his mind quick.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, Lorraine,
except he sees a big payday ahead. See, if I get off, we’ll make
Candy Girls a high end entertainment lounge. He knows I have the
management skills to get the job done. But if I’m convicted, he
gets his hands on the property. Lots of development in this area.
He’s hedging his bets. This dude is from out of state and has
foreign investors. They don’t give a shit about bad publicity. They
ain’t gotta live here.” Jazz lifted her tumbler of brandy again.
“To cold-hearted business.”

Lorraine stared hard as Jazz drained the
last of the brandy. “Smart ass bitch. Think you got it all figured
out, huh?”

Jazz slammed the tumbler onto the desk and
stood. “I did until you framed me for Kyeisha’s murder.”

“You hope that pricey lawyer can keep you
out of prison. I hear it doesn’t look too good though.” Lorraine
stood. She patted the pile of blonde hair twisted up on her head.
“Maybe that white guy from out of state will need a new manager
soon. Yeah, could be.”

“Get out,” Jazz spat.

“Listen, things might turn around if you
cancel that deal and sell my place back to me. With all these new
forensics and cops investigating so hard, new evidence could pop up
any day. Think about it before you cash that guy’s check.” Lorraine
gave Jazz a nasty smile. “You know how to get in touch.”

“Don’t wait on it,” Jazz said as she walked
around the desk.

“Oh by the way, that fine ass police
detective is a nice touch. Screwing his brains out, huh? Wonder why
you don’t let him alibi you outta trouble?” Lorraine smiled as she
studied Jazz for a reaction.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking
about.” Jazz struggled not to say more or lunge at her in attack
mode.

“Yeah I do, and you know it. He left here
walking crooked and wearing a satisfied look. You did him in here
tonight I bet.” Lorraine shrugged. “Hey, two star-crossed lovers
ain’t my business. I’m offering you both a way out. If you go down,
so does Detective Addison. I’ll make sure his bosses will find out
he’s been protecting you.”

Jazz strode across the room. Lorraine backed
up to the door as Jazz got closer. “I told you to get your
triflin’, funky old ass out of my damn office. If you threaten my
friends or family...”

“Hey, I forgot about that bourgie sister of
yours. Her business might not do so well if she’s tied to you,”
Lorraine snarled.

Jazz screamed something unintelligible at
the same time she grabbed the front of Lorraine’s sweater. Caught
off guard, the older woman swung a fist at Jazz’s head. The
glancing blow made Jazz blink, but rage kept her from feeling pain.
Jazz punched Lorraine in the chest. She worked on getting her hands
around Lorraine’s throat, but a force yanked her away.

Byron put his brawny frame between them.
“What the hell...”

“Shit,” Tyretta yelled. She dragged Lorraine
out of the office and into the hallway.

Chyna and Lilly came running from the club,
both shouting in excitement. They helped Tyretta subdue a thrashing
Lorraine. The three women pinned her against the wall, all talking
at once and telling her to calm down.

“I’m going to finish you off,” Lorraine
gasped. “You hear me, bitch?”

Jazz tried to twist free of Byron’s iron
grip. “Yeah, I’ll k--”

“Boss, shut the fuck up,” Byron boomed. He
shook Jazz by both shoulders until she blinked hard and looked at
him. “We can’t have this shit, not now!”

Chyna made a wide circle around Tyretta and
Lilly who had Lorraine pinned against the hallway wall. Eyes wide,
Chyna rushed up to Jazz and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You
threaten, she turn up dead, bad news.”

“Stay with her,” Byron ordered Chyna. He
pushed both of them into the office and banged the door shut.

Jazz kicked it and spun around. Marching to
a small bar at the other end of the sofa, Jazz grabbed the squat
round bottle of brandy. She poured herself a generous portion.
After taking a sip, she remembered Chyna and held up her glass.

“You want some?”

Chyna nodded. “I’ll fix. You sit and get
calm.”

“Going to take more liquor and a couple of
days. The nerve of her coming in here.” Jazz broke off at the
muffled angry voices through the door.

“So, we had a good night for business.”
Chyna casually walked to the door and stood so that she blocked
Jazz’s view. “After all that’s happened you have plenty of
customers. Competitors get jealous. My father faced the same thing
when he first opened his business.”

“Uh-huh.” Jazz leaned against the edge of
her desk.

“Success is the best revenge.” Chyna gazed
at Jazz as if looking for signs she’d bolt for the door. “I don’t
hear voices now. She must be gone.”

“Yeah.” Jazz lost her taste for the brandy.
Instead she pulled a slim cigar from the pack on her desk.

Lilly came in first. She blew out a breath
noisily and fanned her face. “Damn, that old heffa got some fight
in her. I don’t get it. She’s got her own place in Easy Town.
Everybody says she does good business.”