Devilish Details (33 page)

“Cleavon,” Jazz and Willa said at the same
time gazing wide-eyed at each other.

“You two are scaring me,” Cedric quipped.
“Okay, but who called the police and why? Cleavon wouldn’t have
without getting the information he wanted.”

“Maybe a suspicious neighbor,” Willa
offered. She looked at Cedric and shrugged when he gave a skeptical
shake of his head.

Jazz paced as she spoke. “It had to be
somebody close enough to know where she was and what was happening.
Someone who had a reason to think they could profit from getting
Kyeisha away from Lorraine.”

“I’m dizzy just trying to sort out all that
double crossing. Y’all been watching too many crime thrillers.”
Cedric looked from Jazz to Willa and back again.

“Like Willa always says, I know my shady
crowd. Kyeisha would have sold her loyalty to me if I’d given her a
chance. I can tell you stories with more twists than any movie
written in Hollywood.”

Cedric took a seat. “Okay, tell us what
Kyeisha said both nights she showed up at your place.”

“She talked about me knowing about Filipe’s
stash, and how we could make a killing. All I had to do was throw
in with her. She said she hadn’t told Cleavon or Lorraine. So,
maybe she decided to dump them once she was at my place.” Jazz sat
down again.

“There was no blood trail like she walked or
crawled for any distance. Not that I think she could have managed
to in her condition. We figured somebody had to have brought her. I
assumed they thought she was dead when they dumped her and then
called the police to set you up,” Cedric said.

“Yeah, but what if she convinced someone
that they could get information out of Jazz,” Willa said.

“Cleavon tortured Kyeisha until he believed
she didn’t know anything. Lorraine realizes they’re gone and calls
the cops?” Cedric rubbed his chin in thought. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to know. We just have to make
them
think
we know,” Jazz said.

Cedric and Willa exchanged a glanced. Both
started to shake their heads at the same time.

“Aw c’mon, Let me tell you what...” Jazz
stopped when Willa held up a palm like a school crossing guard
stopping traffic.

“I have a feeling you want us to do
something stupid or dangerous,” Willa said. “The answer is hell
no.”

“It’s my ass on the line for murder. I could
get convicted and locked up for twenty-five to life,” Jazz said.
She shuddered.

“Phillips says he can counter their
evidence. He seems pretty confident,” Willa argued.

“Men and women are sitting in prisons all
over America because of circumstantial cases against them,” Cedric
said in a solemn tone.

“A little more help over here Cedric.
Please
,” Willa hissed at him with a glare.

Cedric blinked at Willa. Then he cleared his
throat. “Willa’s right though. Let’s take our information to the
police.”

Jazz jumped to her feet. “Now y’all gone to
talkin’ crazy. The police would throw a party if I got locked up.
They’re city employees, remember? And the city wants my club
closed. I’m not feeling too confident about calling local
authorities.”

“Detective Addison believes you, and Miller
values his opinion,” Willa offered. She huffed a sigh at the frown
Jazz gave her. Then she pressed on with her point. “Okay, Miller is
not your biggest fan, and but he still respects Don as a friend and
most importantly as a cop.”

“I say we run our guesses by Don. He won’t
tell his colleagues if he thinks your theory is too out there. On
the other hand he can convince Miller if what say makes sense,”
Cedric added.

“He’s already put way too much on the line
because of me.” Jazz raked her long weave with one hand. “Don does
not get involved. Period. No more discussion.”

Willa got up and placed both hands on Jazz’s
shoulders. “You’re always talking about how I should think of my
family. That includes
you
. Promise you won’t go up against
Cleavon Bennett or his crew. Promise me on Road Runner’s grave,”
Willa said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Jazz gazed into her sister’s eyes. They were
bright with the threat of tears. The fear in them was real. After
several long moments Jazz gave her a quick hug then pushed free.
She flipped a hand at Willa as she sat down again.

“Alright, alright. No need for all of the
sappy soap opera drama. I promise to stay clear of Cleavon,” Jazz
said. She crossed her legs and dug into her purse until she found
the make-up bag. Then she flipped open a mirror. With a frown she
fixed her lipstick.

Cedric wore an amused, puzzled expression as
he gazed at Willa. “What was all that about Road Runner’s
grave?”

Willa’s tense expression eased. “He was our
favorite cartoon when we were kids. Nothing that dumb coyote tried
could take out lil’ Road Runner. We loved that doggone thing. If we
were serious about a promise, we’d swear on Road Runner’s grave to
keep it.”

“Most people say ‘I swear on my mother’s
grave’,” Cedric replied with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, we put more value on the bird.
He brought us more happiness than she ever did,” Willa replied with
grim humor.

Jazz stood and slung her purse over one
shoulder. “I gotta run and take care of some business.”

“Remember you promised,” Willa said and
pointed at her.

“Yeah, Yeah. Jeez, a little trust is too
much to ask?” Jazz waved goodbye and left.

* * *

Later that day, a quiet Tuesday afternoon,
Jazz sat in her office. Her door and windows were open. A sweet May
breeze caused the gauzy beige curtains to billow in and out,
managing to make it past the metal security grill. Smoke curled up
from the neglected cigarillo resting in a large ceramic ashtray
near her elbow. Byron strolled in with a white envelope in one
hand.

“I signed for this certified letter the
city,” he said and handed it to her.

Jazz tore it open. “The hearing to shut me
down is two days before my first trial date. Bastards like to pile
it on.”

“You got two good lawyers working for ya.”
Byron started to say more but stopped at the sound of approaching
footsteps.

Seconds later Tyretta appeared at the open
door. “Hey girl. How you doin’?”

“I’m goin’ back up front to finish work.”
Byron brushed past Tyretta without looking at her.

“Yeah, make yourself useful. Actin’ like
he’s hot shit.” Tyretta pushed the door closed with one foot. Then
she sat on the edge of Jazz’s desk.

“Byron looked up from street level to
something higher. He’s got goals,” Jazz said mildly. She tugged at
papers Tyretta had sat on causing her to get up.

“Well la-dee-fuckin’-da for him,” Tyretta
retorted as she slumped into one of the chairs.

“I didn’t buy Candy Girls so I could run a
hole in the wall for twenty-five or thirty years like Lorraine’s
mama or like Lorraine will end up doing.” Jazz continued to sign
checks for invoices. She stuffed, addressed, and stamped envelopes.
“Look. Byron had all the invoices laid out for me. That’s how a
manager acts. He’s helping me hold this place together.”

“Uh-huh. So what’s up with the city?”
Tyretta seemed to avoid looking at the envelope on Jazz’s desk.

“Nothing my new lawyer can’t handle,” Jazz
said matter-of-factly. She went back to sorting through
paperwork.

“Now that you mentioned it, Higgins told me
you fired him. I’m surprised you wasn’t satisfied. He helped me a
lot with traffic tickets and stuff a couple of years ago or
so.”

“Hmm, wasn’t that about the time of all
those scandals with the city ? Tickets got fixed.” Jazz looked up
at her sharply, remembering Lorraine’s hook-up to avoid city taxes.
Dots connected. “Did he help out Lorraine, too?”

“Far as I know he never even met Lorraine.
You know she too damn cheap to pay a decent lawyer.” Tyretta gave a
sharp laugh. “No, we went to court all legal and stuff. He wasn’t
caught up in that mess.”

“I wouldn’t call Higgins a decent anything.
He tried to trip me up with that investment contract but it won’t
work.” Jazz picked up the still burning cigarillo. She pulled on
it, looking at Tyretta through the smoke.

“I hear you, girl. Keep fightin’. But you
got a lot comin’ at you. Course all that takes money. No wonder you
sellin’ things in storage. I didn’t know you had so much of
Lorraine’s junk. Can’t be worth much.” Tyretta maintained her
casual tone, as if discussing nothing important.

Jazz pretended to concentrate on the papers
in front of her again. Anger, like a slow pressure, started at the
base of her spine. Byron’s instincts were spot on. Instead of
wanting to explode, Jazz’s emotions coalesced into icy resolve. She
gave a slight shrug without looking up.

“The sheriff locked up the building before
she could move everything I guess. You know, before they had the
tax auction. I’m going to go through pick through the papers and
notebooks tonight after we close. Who knows? Could be hidden
treasure in a bunch of trash.”

“ I can look through ‘em for ya,” Tyretta
said a bit too fast. Then she pulled back. “So you can run the
business I mean.”

“Thanks, but I need to do it myself.
Besides, it’s not that much.”

“It’ll go even faster with two of us
lookin’,” Tyretta said.

Jazz glanced up and tilted her head to one
side. “I’ve never known you to volunteer to work longer hours.”

Tyretta didn’t miss a beat. She pulled a
comical face. “I was bein’ polite, girl. You know I’ma run outta
here when my shift is over. I ain’t gonna fight to stay late.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jazz gave a grunt
and went back to looking at the paperwork again. More silence.

“Maybe you’ll find something in Lorraine’s
old papers that will help you fight the city or somethin’.” Tyretta
brushed at the fabric of one pant leg.

“Doubt it. ,” Jazz said.

“Oh. Like I said, what went down with
Higgins don’t seem like him.”

“People do a lot of nasty stuff for money.
You know what I mean.” Jazz looked at her steadily.

“I hear ya.” Tyretta stood and stretched.
“Let me get back to work before Byron comes in here with an
attitude.”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied calmly. She watched her
leave. Then Jazz sent Byron a text message.

Chapter 19

By ten o’clock that night, the base from the
club’s sound system thumped the walls of Candy Girls. More
customers than expected had turned out for a Tuesday. About ten
construction workers from a nearby site sat scattered around the
club. Some enjoyed a late supper. Others traded jokes with Tyretta
and Chyna as they served. Jazz enjoyed walking the floor to join in
the banter. Byron watched over it all with an impassive expression.
He didn’t make it obvious, but Byron kept an eye on Tyretta. By
eleven, the number of customers had dwindled to a handful of
hold-outs determined to close the place down. Still smiling at a
flirtatious plumber, Jazz motioned to Byron. He crossed the floor
in long strides. One look at him and the plumber decided to call it
a night. The man was gone before Byron got to them.

“What’s up?” Byron said.

“You scared the poor man outta here,” Jazz
said with a laugh. “I could have dealt with him easy, that’s not
why I called you over.”

Byron grunted as he glanced around the club
floor. “Yeah, he looked pretty harmless. But he was about to get a
little too friendly. I could tell.”

Jazz nodded at a short, but strong looking
swarthy white man. His gaze followed Chyna around the room. “No
more liquor that dude at table eight. Make sure he’s not driving or
getting too free with his hands. I think he’s going to be
trouble.”

“I’ll handle it,” Byron said. “Might give
him a word of warning before it goes that far.”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“Listen, about your plan...” Byron turned
his back so Tyretta couldn’t see his face. She was across the club
behind the bar. He’d complained because Jazz had prodded Tyretta
without warning him.

“Cleavon must be pretty desperate by now,
boss lady. I don’t like it.” “Has she made any phone calls that you
could tell?” Jazz pretended not to notice Tyretta stealing glances
at them.

“Not that I saw. No tellin’ what they might
do.”

“What who might do?” Don said. Hidden by
Byron’s bulk, neither of them had seen him come into the club. His
left arm was no longer in a sling. A portion of a bandage showed
from his rolled back long sleeved shirt.

“Hey sweetie. We’re just talking about these
horny construction guys. Byron’s about to clear the house. First,
he’s gonna walk the girls to their cars. Right, Byron?” Jazz
reached up to clap the big man’s large left shoulder.

“Right. Glad to see you on the mend
detective.” Byron nodded at Don with a smile then walked away. He
looked at Jazz one last time as he left.

“Thanks, man.” Don turned to Jazz again.
“Nice try, but I can tell you weren’t talking about your
customers.”

“You should still be home with the wifey
resting, man. You know, eating nutritious meals and getting the
royal treatment.” Jazz tugged him until he walked beside her to the
office.

“Stop dropping hints about my ex. We’re
not
getting back together, and don’t try to distract me. I’m
not going to bite,” Don said firmly. He opened the door and let
Jazz go in first. Then he closed it.

“Okay, okay. I tried being matchmaker, but
if you insist. Let’s see how creative we can be around those
injuries.” Jazz stood on tiptoe to kiss him. She slid a finger
inside the waistband of his pants.

“Soon enough,” Don replied. Still he pulled
her close to deepen their kiss.

“Wow, you don’t need two hands, baby. I can
deliver some hot buttered medicine that will heal all your aches
and pains,” Jazz whispered.