Devilish Details (34 page)

“I know you will. But first tell me what
you’re up to.” Don stepped back to gaze at her steadily.

“Stop being such a... cop,” Jazz retorted.
She stomped over to her small bar area. She poured cold cream soda
soft drink into a mug. Then she fixed herself a vodka and orange
juice. “No alcohol for you, young man. You’re still healing.”

Don accepted the mug from her. He waited
until Jazz had her drink and they were both on the sofa before he
spoke. “Byron told me he doesn’t trust Tyretta. Seems she’s been
acting shady. I gotta wonder why she’s still working here.”

Jazz stifled a curse word. Showing she was
irritated with Byron for talking would be a quick giveaway. She
covered her expression with the heavy crystal tumbler as she drank.
Then she shrugged. “Byron and Tyretta have always gotten on each
other’s nerves.”

“So nothing specific?” Don followed her lead
and drank from his mug as well. His tone sounded casual.

Jazz wasn’t fooled. Don’s lie detector
scanned her despite his laid back expression. “Look, Tyretta has a
big mouth. Byron thought she’s been talkin’ too much, which
explains how Lorraine got wind of some of my business.”

“So Byron’s dislike for Tyretta is coloring
his judgment? You could be right.” Don’s unwavering dark-eyed gaze
stayed on Jazz’s every move.

“To satisfy Byron I told him to keep an eye
on her. Like I figured, he came up with nothin’.” Jazz finished off
her drink. “We’ve been tight for a long time. I know her better
than Byron. She can be a bitch, but the same can be said of
me.”

“No comment,” Don replied.

`“Hey, you come in here insulting the owner
and you’ll pay the price.”

Don grimaced dramatically. “Oww-wee,
careful. I’m still a wounded warrior.”

“Big baby. I thought you said your injuries
weren’t that bad. And how’d you get over here anyway? I doubt
you’re supposed to be driving this soon.”

Don’s grimace melted into an impish smile.
“Lady doc. I charmed her into letting me drive short distances a
couple of times a week. I just don’t take those strong pain
pills.”

“You’re straight up nuts, Detective Addison.
Following medical advice is a smart move.,” Jazz said with a
frown.

“Nuts is right. Staying inside day in and
out is definitely driving me crazy. This is my one and only trip
today.”

“I can’t complain because you came to see
me, I’m glad.” Jazz snuggled close and kissed his smoothly shaved
cheek. “But you should be in bed, late as it is.”

“You could tuck me,” Don murmured and placed
a large hand on her thigh. “Like you said, it’s late. Let’s go up
to your place. Byron can shut the club.”

Jazz stopped planting kisses on his neck. “I
wish, but I gotta be here awhile. Lots of bills to make out and
juggle since our daily take dropped. With all the drama the last
two weeks, things have piled up. I can’t keep putting it off. And
besides, you’d rest better alone.”

“No I wouldn’t.” Don bent down to brush his
lips against her mouth as an argument. He flinched and grunted when
Jazz hugged him.

Jazz stood and took the mug from him. “ You
can’t handle me yet, Detective Addison. I’ll work, you’ll go home
to sleep.”

“You’re not trying to get rid of me for some
reason?” Don said.

“Sure I am. So you can heal faster. I’m
missing that hard body.” Jazz winked at him with a grin. She placed
the mug and her tumbler on a table.

Don watched her. “Jazz, I...”

A loud knock was followed by Byron opening
the door, a brown folder in one hand. “S’cuse me y’all. I apologize
for interruptin’ but I forgot some invoices need signin’. I want to
mail those checks first thing in the morning. The beer and chip
distributors are restless ‘bout gettin’ paid.”

“Yeah, I know. See what I’m dealin’ with,
honey?” Jazz shook her head.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you two take
care of business this time. Call me tomorrow.” Don stood.

“I will. Promise.” Jazz walked to him and
accepted his goodbye kiss.

“Keep her out of trouble my man,” Don
said.

“Always,” Byron replied with a grin.

With a final wave, Don walked stiffly out of
the office. When Byron moved to close the door, Jazz gestured for
him to stop. The sound of Don’s heavy footsteps faded. Seconds
later, they heard him calling out to the staff. Byron left and came
back moments later.

“He’s gone.” Byron closed the door.

“You’ve got what they call perfect timing,
Byron. If Don had stuck around any longer he’d have known something
was up.” Jazz heaved a deep sigh. She went to her desk and sat
down.

“Yeah, well maybe him stayin’ wouldn’t have
been a bad thing. We don’t know what might happen tonight,” Byron
said, a frown creasing his brow.

“If Tyretta creeps in here to snoop, I’ll
whip her ass myself. I don’t need no police to handle her.” Jazz
signed the invoices and wrote out two checks as she spoke.

Byron went to the windows. He pushed aside
the curtains and looked down the alley. “Tyretta ain’t dumb enough
to try somethin’ herself. Nah, I’m worried about who shows up
because she snitched.”

“Stop being so jittery. Tyretta will play it
cool. If she thinks the place is empty, she’ll let herself in and
search it. If she finds me in here, she’ll act like she left
something or come up with another lie, and then pump me for
information. Then she’ll take call Lorraine. When the fake
information comes back, we’ll know for sure she’s a rat.” Jazz
handed him the papers.

“You sound real sure she’s gonna follow that
script.” Byron accepted the invoices and checks.

Jazz lit another cigarillo and reclined
against the executive chair back. “Yeah, because that’s what she
did to Lorraine.”

Byron’s head snapped up. “Say what?”

“Back when I was working at Candy Girls,
business started going down. Lorraine let her thug sons, their
friends, and Filipe’s gang members ruin the place. There was drug
dealing, guns being sold out back. There was a shooting and fights.
Pretty soon paying customers stayed away, workers at the plants,
solid blue collar guys that make good money. We even had white
collar clients. They didn’t want their names or faces on the news
when cops raided. Let alone end up getting killed. You know how
crazy those thugs get. And that’s when they ain’t drinkin’ and
druggin’.”

“Right, bad situation,” Byron said with a
nod.

“You ain’t lyin’. Tyretta and me was
friends. Lorraine started being evil to just about everybody, just
like her mama was. I used to talk to Tyretta about wanting to run
my own place, but finding the right building would be tough.
Tyretta tipped me off to the tax auction, and that Lorraine was
facing legal trouble.” Jazz raised an eyebrow at Byron as he rubbed
his chin, deep in thought. “I never told anybody that until now. I
didn’t want Lorraine or her sons to find out.”

“They would have put some hurt on her for
sure. Now you’re in trouble and Tyretta is on Lorraine’s team
again. Damn, that’s cold-blooded.”

Jazz shrugged and took a pull on the
cigarillo. She blew out curls of smoke. “We both could be wrong,
and she won’t show up.”

Byron stood. “I hope you’re right. It’s a
helluva tough world, and true blue friends are even tougher to
find.”

“So I’m finding out, Byron,” Jazz said
softly. She swung her chair around to gaze at the closed circuit
television images. “We’d spot any strangers. She knows the system
is working. Tyretta will know a way to slip in.”

“The outside attempts didn’t work, so now
it’s gotta be an inside job.” Byron scowled. “Always worse when the
hand holdin’ the knife stuck in your back is somebody you shoulda
been able to trust.”

“You just dropped some straight heavy
truth,” Jazz replied. The heat of anger burned through her
sentimentality. “So I’m gonna be waiting right here tonight and
tomorrow night. It won’t take long. Like you said, Lorraine is
desperate.”

“I’ll leave like I’m goin’ home. Then I’ll
double back and keep an eye on the place,” Byron said.

“Only Tyretta will show and I can deal with
her alone, but I’m not going to waste time arguing. You’ll just do
it anyway.”

“We got some time. Rochelle and her brother
are still cleaning up. Chyna is gettin’ tables cleared off and the
bar set up again. It’s after midnight. We’ll shut down in a
minute.” Byron glanced at the monitor. “I’ll shove that last guy
out the door. Then I’ll lock up after the ladies are gone.”

“Okay.” Jazz brushed back her hair. She
gazed at the pile of work on her desk. “Might as well knock this
stuff out since I’m gonna be here anyway.”

“Boss, if you don’t mind...” Byron rubbed
his jaw.

“Spit it out. You’ve earned the right to
speak your mind.” Jazz gave him a half-grin.

“Let me in your place. I can watch
surveillance feed on the monitors up there. Beats prowling around
outside.”

After the burglaries, Byron had purchased
more electronic equipment. A friend of his had connected the
cameras to monitors in Jazz’s apartment. Without hesitation Jazz
took out a set of spare keys from a desk drawer. She tossed them
and Byron caught them with one large hand.

“If you want to sit up there bored instead
of going home, be my guest,” Jazz said. “At least I won’t be
worried you’re going to get jumped in a dark alley.”

“My grandmamma used to say better to watch
your back than pull a knife outta it later,” Byron said with a
grin.

Jazz laughed. “Your grandmamma must have
lived an interesting life. I’ll have to hear about her later.”

“You got it.” Byron saluted Jazz and left
like a man with a serious mission.

“Dude is on his job for sure.” Jazz smiled
at the image of Byron moving through the dark like a ninja .

Between sorting through paperwork Jazz
glanced at the television screens showing the inside and outside of
the club. As he’d said, around twelve-thirty Byron put the last
straggler out and locked the front entrance. Tyretta left first,
loudly calling out farewells to all. Jazz’s eyes narrowed as
Tyretta made it a point to saying she was going straight home.
Byron left at almost one o’clock. Jazz watched him lock the side
door from the outside and stroll to his Tahoe. Moments later he
drove away.

Despite her brave words to Byron earlier,
the silence of the club unnerved Jazz after the first thirty
minutes. Her gaze darted back to the monitor showing three views
outside the club frequently. The digital time on both screens
flashed one forty-five, and Jazz caught herself glancing at the
security feed for the tenth time. She gave a grunt of
frustration.

“I need to stop trippin’,” Jazz said. “I let
Byron rub off on me.”

Jazz forced her gaze away from the security
monitors, stood, and stretched her muscles. She turned on the sound
system. Neo soul music turned low flowed from the speakers. Then
she poured another drink, lit a cigarillo, and sat down again. A
glance at the small business software on her computer confirmed
they were breaking even, but just. Her profits had been up, down,
and all over the place. What she needed was stability, or Higgins
and the city would get their wish. She couldn’t pay her employees
and support herself long-term if that pattern kept up. In fact, the
odds were high that the downward trend in cash flow would return.
She’d soon be distracted by the trial and the hearings with the
city. Sure, she trusted Byron. But she was the owner. No one else
could work her dreams into reality. Jazz had developed clear goals
in the past six months. She even had a written step-by-step plan to
go beyond a strip club. Now her plan had way too many “ifs” written
in the margins. The biggest uncertainly of all was the verdict in
her looming trial. A twenty-five to life sentence for murder would
blow up all of her ambitions.

After a life of hard-knocks, Jazz couldn’t
resist giving in to a morose mood. She rubbed her eyes and glanced
at the clock on her computer. Two-twenty . The early morning hours
always made life seem bleak. A couple of distant bumps in the night
broke through deep thoughts of her hard childhood. Jazz blinked
back to her all too real present and looked at the monitors. Both
had gone blank.

“What the hell?”

Jazz shot to her feet. Her heart pounded so
hard it almost drowned out another bump. She sat alone in a locked
club, blind, and with no back-up. Then she fought to control her
fear.

“Byron,” she whispered. Breathing hard she
texted him. “C’mon, c’mon. Oh shit this is stupid.”

She dialed his cell phone and got voice
mail. Her heart rate speed up until blood rushed in her ears. A
tidal wave of panic made it hard to breathe. The late hour and
tension had to be playing tricks on her mind. No one could be in
the club.

“He’ll will text or call back in a minute,”
she mumbled in an attempt to reassure the scared voices in her
head.

But minutes seemed like forever and still no
reply from Byron. Jazz considered going into the club, but decided
against it. Moving around alone would make her feel even more
vulnerable. She’d imagine someone coming up behind her or hiding
around a corner with every step. No, better to stay in the office.
With a deep breath, Jazz took the Smith and Wesson .380 from a desk
drawer and placed it in her lap. When the office door knob turned,
Jazz remembered too late she hadn’t bothered to lock it. As if to
heighten her terror, the door cracked open and stopped. Anger
spiked at the invasion of her hard won property and the
intimidation tactic. Without standing, Jazz raised the gun and
pointed.

“Bring your ass in here unless you want me
to shoot through the damn door,. If you know me, you know I’m a
good shot. I’m gone pull the trigger and put a hole in you.,” Jazz
said in a level voice.