Devilish Details (21 page)

“She still wants payback. First thing I’m
going to do is change that damn name.” Jazz stabbed the glowing red
end of the cigar like it was a pointer.

“Okay.” Lilly exchanged a glance with Chyna,
who shrugged in response. “At least I don’t hear sirens headed this
way.”

“Lorraine won’t call the police. I don’t
care what she said,” Jazz replied.

Byron pushed through the door. “Tyretta, put
Lorraine in her car and got her to leave.”

“Humph,” Jazz grunted with a nod.

The others talked off their adrenaline rush
from the fight scene. Jazz said nothing, but continued to puff on
the small cigar. She studied the swirls of smoke floating away. The
patterns were interesting, like the pattern of events spinning
around her. If you watched long enough you began to see shapes and
meaning.

“Lorraine didn’t come over here just to
gloat. That was just a bonus. No, she came over here for another
reason,” Jazz said softly. The others stopped talking and turned to
her.

“What you thinkin’, boss?” Byron said.

“I don’t know. Right now the whole picture
isn’t together. But Lorraine wasn’t all that attached to this
place. Her mother used to get drunk and treat her like dirt. She
told me the same stories at least a hundred times once she got to
drinking and smoking weed.” Jazz looked around.

Tyretta snorted a laugh as she slumped into
a chair. “One time she threatened to burn the place down. Said she
was gone bring her mama from the nursing and make her watch it go
up.”

“Real nice,” Byron muttered. He wiped his
brow with a wad of paper towels.

“You should have seen this office when I got
in here. Papers piled everywhere, stained with beer and grease. The
bookkeeping tablets were a joke.” Jazz wrinkled her nose in
distaste at the memory of how smelly the whole place had been.

Chyna jumped and grabbed onto Byron, eyes
wide. “What was that noise?”

“I didn’t hear nuthin’.” Tyretta started to
say more when a loud thump sounded. “Oh shit.”

“Stay here and lock the door,” Byron
rumbled.

“No, don’t go. Lorraine’s gang might be out
there waiting for you, for all of us,” Chyna cried too late.

“Hey!” Tyretta added reaching out to pull
him back..

“Don’t come out unless you hear from me.”
Byron’s long legs had taken him out of the room before either of
them could protest.

“He’s actin’ a fool,” Tyretta said when the
door closed in her face. Where’s your pistol, Jazz?” She spun
around to find Jazz no longer standing next to her.

“The police took all her guns,” Chyna
whispered back.

Jazz stood with a 9mm pistol in one hand. “I
got his back. You hear any yelling, a shot, or anything dial
911.”

“Oh shit. Y’all got to be crazy. Lorraine
ain’t playing anytime she show to call you out,” Tyretta
argued.

“Yeah. So she gonna get the fight she
wants,” Jazz retorted.

She gave a curt nod, a signal for them to
get out of her way. The two women parted to either side. Tyretta
hissed, her mouth hanging open. Chyna’s wide-eyed stare turned
glassy with fear. Though her lips moved, no sound came out. Jazz
stepped out into the hall. She gently, yet firmly closed the door
behind her. Then she moved with caution down the hallway. She heard
more soft thumps. A shadow seemed to move to her right. Jazz caught
herself before calling out to Byron. If someone had surprised and
overcome the big man, she’d only give away her position. But
seconds later a yelp and grunt of pain propelled her on. Jazz
shoved aside several chairs as she ran across the open floor and
around tables. Another shout, this time curse words, came from her
left. She raced past the kitchen and adjacent small dining room,
down a hallway and to the back. Byron leaned against the steel rear
door leading, a palm pressed to his jaw.

“What happened? You okay?” Jazz gasped when
she got close, looking for blood.

“I’m alright. Some dude was up in here.
Tried to hold him, but he got in a couple good punches upside my
head. He hit the door running and took off.” Byron seemed more
angry than physically harmed.

Jazz glanced outside. “Get in here. No
telling what he might have done if you’d cornered him. Now I’m glad
the fire marshal made me install this door.”

City fire code required at least two exit
doors be the push bar type. They locked when closed, but opened
when the bar was pushed from inside. The doors provided the
security Jazz required, yet if a fire or other emergency happened
inside, people could get out fast. The big doors had been
expensive, and Jazz complained loudly about them during
renovations. At this moment, she wanted to kiss them.

“How’d he get in?” Byron flinched when he
moved one shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence some guy
was hiding in here the same time Lorraine came to visit,” Jazz
replied. “Let’s check the rest of the club.”

Minutes later they returned to Jazz’s
office. It took a good thirty seconds of convincing Chyna it wasn’t
a trap, and she could let them in. Tyretta let loose with a string
of profanity, yelling at Chyna to stop being a “crazy-ass wimp.”
Byron grinned at Jazz.

“Things already gettin’ back to normal,” he
said.

Tyretta yanked the door open. “What did I
tell you? Ain’t nobody holding a gun on ‘em. Damn, the way she kept
snivelin’ made me want to take the risk just to get outta here.
Y’all awright?”

“You didn’t know,” Chyna replied defensively
as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

“Ah, leave the kid alone. She’s not hard
core like you,” Byron said. “You want, I’ll follow you all the way
home.”

Chyna clapped her hands together. “Yes!”

“Oh please. They’re after Jazz, not
you
,” Tyretta blurted out.

All three gazed at Jazz steadily in silence.
Jazz nodded. “Yeah.”

Chapter 12

The next day at five thirty in the evening,
Willa, MiMi, and Cedric came to Candy Girls. Willa and MiMi sat at
the bar drinking soda while Cedric got the grand tour from Byron.
As customers drifted in and the music started, they all moved to
Jazz’s office. Saturdays got busy fast, and Rochelle had been
cooking non-stop since eleven that morning. Once settled in with
their various beverages of choice, Jazz gave an account of her
adventures.

“I called y’all over here because I know who
the killer is,” Jazz said as she glanced around at a set of
startled expressions. Then she laughed loudly. “Okay, I’m
bullshitting around. I love old movies where they do that.”

“You play too much,” Willa snapped.

MiMi giggled. “Girl, you had me going.”

“Damn boss. Give me a heart attack like I
ain’t had enough excitement this week.” Byron exhaled noisily. “I’m
going out on the floor. Rochelle ain’t had a break since two
o’clock. Chyna came in to help her cook.”

“How is she going to dance and cook?” Willa
asked, looking at Jazz.

“She’s not gonna dance anymore. I hired
another girl to dance with Lilly tonight. Not that I need to
explain how I run things,” Jazz wisecracked. She turned to Byron.
“Fine. We’re going to have a normal night. Follow the usual
routine.”

Byron nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Thanks again, man,” Cedric called out to
him and waved.

“No problem. If I don’t see y’all before you
leave, everybody have a good evening.” Byron waved to everyone and
left.

“I may not be leaving. Mama Ruby and Aunt
Beryl are spoiling Sage rotten tonight so I can shake my thang.”
MiMi bobbed her head to the muted beat of music coming from the
club.

“You’ll shake it home to pick up your baby,”
Willa said with a frown.

“Yes, mother.” MiMi snorted to punctuate her
sarcasm.

“Sure, stay and party, girl,” Jazz put in to
egg her on, but more to annoy her big sister.

Cedric grinned at them and cleared his
throat. “I like the security surveillance system. Impressive.” He
looked at the two flat screen televisions set on the wall.

“Thanks. I can turn on the sound, too.” Jazz
went to her PC and hit a key. A throbbing neo soul tune flooded the
office.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” MiMi jumped
to her feet and danced across the floor, hips swaying.

“ On Saturday nights jumps old school baby
boomers come in around eight. They leave at midnight cause they
gotta get up for church Sunday mornings.” Jazz laughed when Willa’s
mouth formed a wide circle. “Your Aunt Ametrine would be up in here
spraying holy oil if she knew. Bet I could name some of her church
members.”

“I’d pay to see online videos of church
deacons jammin’, a drink in one hand,” Cedric said with a
laugh.

“Humph, you don’t have typical nights
anymore. Half dead enemies show up. Evil ex-boss pops in like the
devil.” Willa walked over to the screen and stared as if looking
for suspects.

“Typical for this part of town,” Jazz joked
as she joined MiMi in dancing.

“Impressive indeed .” Willa picked up the
remote, lightly tapped a key and the music stopped.

“Hey, I just got my groove going good,” MiMi
complained loudly.

“Tell me again what Lorraine had to say.”
Willa sat down.

“Basically she admitted setting me up,” Jazz
replied. She fanned her face as she sat down as well.

“She dropped enough hints to make it clear,
but nothing you could report to the police,” Cedric put in.

“Yeah. You’re on notice to deliver what she
wants or else.” Willa wore a frown of anxiety. “We’ve got to stop
her.”

Jazz pointed a forefinger at each of them in
turn. “You, you, or you won’t do anything. I’m handling Lorraine
and her crap.”

“Let’s review then. With your fancy security
cameras she waltzed her ass in here and caught you by surprise,”
Willa deadpanned.

“We had a busy night. I was reviewing the
receipts, invoices, and a half dozen other details.” Still Jazz
avoided returning Willa’s gaze.

“Not to mention you’re going on trial for
murder
. Please describe to us how you’re ‘handling
Lorraine’? Or maybe you want us to believe this is all according to
your grand plan.” Willa crossed her arms.

“I, uh, well. Um.” Jazz sighed. “Okay, for
once you have a point. But the fact that she showed up says
something.”

“Yeah, that she’s gloating because you’re
about to go down for a murder you didn’t do,” Willa shot back. “The
bonus is she’ll get her grimy hands on your property.”

“Ouch.” MiMi winced at Willa’s sharpened
point.

Cedric switched his attention from admiring
the security monitors and back to the conversation. “Wait a minute.
I agree with Jazz to some degree. Lorraine didn’t come to just
gloat. She came over to make Jazz an offer. Why would she do that
if Jazz going to prison is a done deal?”

“Because I have something she wants. Not my
property,” Jazz said fast when Willa opened her mouth to
comment.

“Hmm.” Cedric stood, legs apart. He frowned
as he rubbed his hands together. “ Yeah. The city is trying to shut
you down. Seems like all Lorraine has to do is wait until you go to
prison and make a bid for it again. So why go to the trouble of
trying to cut a deal?”

“Willa’s right. She’s a bitch enjoying your
misery,” MiMi tossed out casually. She glanced at her fingernails.
“I need a manicure bad. But I have to economize since
somebody
won’t help us find our cash.”

“You won’t need manicures if thugs cut off
your fingers, right?” Willa replied and grinned when MiMi let out a
squeak.

MiMi clasped her hands together. “You’re so
mean.”

Jazz gazed at the monitors with a frown.
“Maybe. Nah, I don’t see it.”

“What?” Cedric sat down in a chair.

“MiMi may not be the only one hot to find
Filipe’s missing money,” Jazz said.

“You mean my fiancé’s missing money,” MiMi
piped up.

Jazz flipped a hand at MiMi’s comment as
though brushing away an annoying gnat. “But Lorraine definitely
wasn’t in Filipe’s gang, so how could she know? Much less think she
had a right to it.”

“Didn’t they hang out at Candy Girls back in
the day? Filipe used to come here when Lorraine owned the place.
That’s how y’all met,” Willa said.

“She chatted him up like she did most
customers dropping a bunch of money. Him and his boys would drink
her best liquor, get the private room and tipped well. Real well.”
Jazz smiled.

“ Guys stuffed a bunch of bills in your
g-string, huh? Shoot, the way my finances are going, I may have to
do a bump and grind soon.” MiMi looked at her fingernails
again.

“Ah the good old days,” Jazz quipped. “You
don’t want the down sides of working the pole, sweetie. Trust
me.”

“Where’s your private room?” MiMi asked. She
seemed not to have heard Jazz’s warning.

“I used that extra floor space for a DJ, and
made my office bigger. My girls didn’t want to do private dances.
Guys tended to expect more than dancing, and they’d want to do
drugs. Not in my place.”

“Aunt Ametrine would be pleased to hear it,”
Willa joked with a crooked grin. Her fiercely church-going aunt
still preached at Jazz from time to time.

“Yeah, at least I’m cutting down on the
number of sins I’m committing,” Jazz replied with a laugh.

“So Lorraine wasn’t in Filipe’s gang. Did
she get drugs from him for the customers in that private room?”
Cedric asked.

“Nah, I would have known. Most of those
folks brought their own.” Jazz rocked her leather executive chair
back and forth a few times. A thought, really a memory, hit her.
“Lorraine has three sons. Well she had four. One got killed back in
2010, shot on the street. One is locked up in New York State, death
row. The other one is in Hunt Correctional, convicted in 2012
maybe, and got twenty-five years.”