Devilish Details (9 page)

“Go on. I’m not trying to poison you, fool.
I broke the seal,” Jazz said mildly. She let Kyeisha down a third
of the half-pint then put the bottle down. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You came to talk, so talk,” Jazz said.

She talked alright. A stream of curse words
came out like hot lava from a volcano. Kyeisha used up her store of
profanity to describe Jazz, and then started inventing new words.
Eventually she ran down like a doll whose battery had run low. She
puffed out short breaths.

“Now that you got that out your system,
let’s chat. I’m assuming Cleavon is close by, or was. If I know
your taste in men, I’ll bet he took off faster than the bullet from
that first shot,” Jazz said and grunted a laugh.

“You don’t know shit about him. He gonna
bust in here any second and--” Kyeisha bit off the words when Jazz
lifted the two way radio.

“Hey Byron, get some of your boys to sweep
the alleys and side streets. Cleavon might be nearby,” Jazz said
when he answered. His voice came through saying he would. Jazz hit
the button breaking the transmission. “Thanks for being so
helpful.”

“Fuck you,” Kyeisha spat.

“Tsk, tsk. You came to me for information or
you thought I had something you needed. Such language, pointing a
gun at me and insults. I’m not feeling real sociable toward you or
your man right now.” Jazz lounged against the back of the chair,
waiting. She sipped more water.

Kyeisha seemed to mentally weight her
options. Then she hissed out a slow breath. “Okay, look, I didn’t
come to you right. I had the gun cuz we don’t know who’s for us or
who’s ready to shoot us and claim the reward. And I didn’t point it
at you. You didn’t have to freak out and shit.”

“Uh-huh. Skip to the point of this little
visit,” Jazz replied. Kyeisha scowled in silence. “I could call the
cops.”

Kyeisha smiled slyly. “You won’t do that.
The city wants to shut you down. Oh yeah, I been watchin’ the news.
That detective came over here, too.”

Jazz decided not to mention that Kyeisha was
filling her in on useful information. So Cleavon had one of his
people watching Candy Girls. She would let her keep talking. The
reason might come out soon enough.

“I could earn brownie points turning you in.
Show the mayor I’m a good citizen and shit,” Jazz replied in a tone
as cool as the April evening outside.

“Damn.” Kyeisha licked her lips. “We can
help each other. Filipe’s old gang want some money they think he
owes them. They don’t get it from him, they might come looking for
you.”

“Even locked up they’d be smart not to screw
with Filipe. He’s got more first, second, and third cousins in
gangs than I’ve got hairs in my weave. Girl, you better warn
Cleavon not to stir up that nest of avispas,” Jazz replied.

“Nest of what?” Kyeisha frowned at her.

“Spanish for wasps,” Jazz said with a wave
of her hand.

“Oh. Cleavon ain’t tryin’ to say it’s you.
He don’t know Filipe trusted you that close, and I haven’t told
nobody, not even Cleavon... yet.” Kyeisha wore a sly expression
again.

Jazz planted her elbows on both knees. She
rolled the plastic water bottle between her hands. “Go on.”

“Me and you could split the cash, sell the
drugs, and keep the money.”

“What about your true love Cleavon? Don’t
tell me you’d leave him out of our big payday.” Jazz said
dryly.

“Well you know how it goes. Besides, he’s
slapped me around one too many times. I was just shootin’ bullshit
a minute ago. He don’t know I’m here, and I don’t have to tell
him,” Kyeisha replied.

“So you were lying about Cleavon being close
by; and, you didn’t tell anybody about me knowing where Filipe hid
his stuff?” Jazz said.

“Just between you and me, girl. Your boys
will tell you nobody is out there watchin’.” Kyeisha smiled.

Jazz nodded and smiled back at her. “I
gotcha. So if I kill you now, and keep all the money for me, I’m
safe.”

“Lorraine knows,” Kyeisha blurted out, spit
flying everywhere. Her eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“Humph, you ain’t as dumb as I thought,”
Jazz murmured and sat back again.

Chapter 6

For the entire weekend Jazz went on with
business as usual. She waited until Sunday evening to arrange a
meet up with Willa and MiMi. Jazz got a headache with both women
chattering at top speed on a three way call. Willa had agreed after
an intense debate. On the other hand, MiMi squealed with delight at
the suggestion. Willa insisted she wasn’t going to spend any time
during regular business hours discussing “dumb schemes to get
non-existent drug money”. The meeting was set for Monday evening.
MiMi volunteered to play hostess. When Jazz texted Willa to let her
know, the reply text was a curt, “OMG here we go.”

Since Mondays were the slowest day at the
club, Jazz left Byron in charge. He’d earned her trust, he had good
sense, and he could stand up to Tyretta. Most of the money came
from lunch and dinner take-out orders anyway.

By seven o’clock, Jazz sat in was at MiMi’s.
They looked at each other across the totally not child friendly
glass top table in MiMi’s breakfast nook. Jazz would have loved a
smoke, but wouldn’t only because of the baby. Sage sat in her lap
sucking on a pacifier looking at the adults with interest. She
seemed to know a show was about to start. It did.

“You drugged her?” Willa jumped to her feet.
“See this is why I didn’t want to get hooked up with you two.”

“It was just one of those over the counter
cold pills, and only a couple or three capsules. Kyeisha slept like
a baby, didn’t she Sagey-boo?” Jazz gave the eighteen month old a
gentle pinch on her plump cheek. Sage giggled as if she got the
joke on Kyeisha.

“Jazz...” Willa hissed out air like a hot
air balloon losing inflation. She waved both hands as though at a
loss for more words.

“That was kind of risky, girl,” MiMi
ventured. “I mean, what if she was allergic or something?”

“Well she ain’t. Byron’s pals say she woke
up with nothing more than a stiff neck,” Jazz said with a grin.
“I’m just sorry I wasn’t inside Lorraine’s dump to watch both their
expressions.”

“How in the world did you get her there?”
Willa said, her arms doing more dramatic arcs as she spoke.

“A wheelchair, one of my customers was
getting a lap dance. Mr. Billie is always more comfortable in one
of our leather chairs. I mean, the girls can’t get too close in the
wheelchair anyway.” Jazz breathed in the scent of baby lotion as
she kissed the top of Sage’s head. She bounced Sage on her knee.
“Sweet baby girl.”

“Well at least she’s not discriminating
against the disabled,” MiMi said when Willa looked to her for
support.

“You’ve both lost your damn minds,” Willa
blurted out.

“Not in front of the baby,” MiMi
admonished.

“You need to stop being so high strung,
Willa. Kyeisha wasn’t knocked out all the way. We got her down the
stairs, slipped her butt into the wheelchair and had some dudes
drive her to Lorraine’s place across town. Mr. Billie didn’t even
miss his wheelchair, trust me. Monique kept him happy,” Jazz said,
referring to the second dancer who worked for her part-time.

“Now I’ll have to live with that image in my
head for days,” Willa muttered. “Skip to the part why I should give
a flying sh--”

“Watch your mouth,” MiMi snapped and placed
both palms over Sage’s ears. The toddler happily sucked the
pacifier unaware of the drama.

“Bad Auntie Willa is a terrible role model,”
Jazz said and rocked gently from side to side. She smothered a
giggle when Willa gave her a look hot enough to set off the fire
alarm.

“Come to mommy. There’s my sweet girl.”

MiMi took the baby in her arms and hummed a
tune. Sage’s eyes drifted closed. Motioning for them to be quiet,
MiMi continued humming as she took Sage to the nursery.

Willa gave Jazz another dirty look and went
to the stove. She put more pasta and shrimp on a small plate and
sat down again. “Humph, I’m the bad role model.
Un-freaking-believable.”

“Yeah, I have to say that was funny.” Jazz
winked at her.

MiMi returned and sat down between them
before Willa could reply. “Now let’s develop a strategy.”

“From purring nursery music to running after
drug money. Real nice,” Willa shot back. She speared a shrimp and
pasta with her fork. Once she’d stuffed it in her mouth, Willa
blinked in surprise. “Hmmm, not bad at all.”

“Thanks,” MiMi replied and frowned at her.
“We don’t have any evidence that it’s drug money. Jack was going to
invest in what he thought was a legitimate business expansion. He
trusted Ryan. It’s not our fault, but at least we could do some
good with it. .”

“Hell, all money spends,” Jazz grabbed a
forked and ate off Willa’s plate.

“I’ve read that the drug business is so big,
any money you test will show traces of cocaine. You could be
walking around with so-called ‘drug money’ in your purse right now
for all you know.” MiMi tossed her thick hair over one shoulder.
“So now what do you say?”

Jazz stared at her genuinely impressed.
“Damn, MiMi. You could be a lawyer.”

Willa put down her fork. She closed her eyes
and rubbed her forehead. “Just tell me why I’m here instead of
watching Mikayla at dance practice. And make it quick, because then
we have to pick up Anthony from his film academy lab.”

“What about his car?” MiMi said, getting off
the subject.

“It’s in the shop right now,” Willa said in
a tight voice. She turned to Jazz. “Get to the damn point. That way
I can say refuse and be on my way.”

“See? His car is in the shop
again
.
Tell me you don’t need money. My nephew needs a car. He’s earned it
the way he turned around his grades and...” MiMi’s words trailed
off at the dark glance from Willa.

“MiMi, you slept with my husband. You’re not
Anthony’s aunt by any stretch,” Willa hissed her voice getting
louder.

“Your ex-husband that you didn’t even like,
much less love anymore. More than a couple of people thought
you
murdered him,” Jazz put in. She raised both palms when
her sister turned back to her. “I’m stating facts.”

“Jazz, don’t keep testing me,” Willa warned
in a soft yet deadly tone.

“But you’re right. MiMi, you’re like his
step-mother. Except you didn’t marry Jack. So technically you’re
the baby mama,” Jazz said with a grin.

MiMi glared at Jazz. “We were engaged.”

“My point is technically, I don’t think
either of you has a strong claim to any of Jack’s money on moral
grounds. I on the other hand was in business with Filipe. But, I’m
generously including you two. We’re family.” Jazz smiled at them
sweetly.

“Bullshit,” Willa and MiMi blurted in
unison.

“You need my investigative resources to
track the money in the legitimate world the way your thug buddies
can’t,” Willa said and crossed her arms.

“I can sniff out information from our upper
class social circle. You know they won’t talk to you, or your
colorful
friends. Remember the economy hit bottom in 2008.
I’ll bet Jack wasn’t the only frat boy to lower his standards when
it came to financing business.” MiMi arched an eyebrow.

Jazz shrugged. “Okay, so it takes a
village.”

Willa barked a laugh empty of humor. “Now
she’s a philosopher.”

“You two need me to crawl under the rocks
for clues on the street. The big point is we all need each other,”
Jazz snapped.

“But
you two
forget something. I
don’t give a frig about the money. Crown protection may be
operating on a thin margin, but we’re not anywhere near being
broke. Anthony just earned a scholarship, so I don’t need the money
for his college tuition,” Willa put in before MiMi could interrupt.
“As for him not having a car? Two words - bus system. By the way, I
raised Anthony to take care of himself. He doesn’t expect to get
handed everything on a silver tray.”

“I don’t see why Anthony should do without
because you’re hard-headed,” MiMi shot back.

Willa stood and looped her oversized satchel
purse over one shoulder. “We both know you’re thinking of the
designer clothes you want to buy. I’m out. Don’t bother calling me
to another of these crazy conferences. The answer will still be
‘Hell no’.”

Jazz stood and faced her. “You haven’t heard
what Kyeisha told me yet.”

“Doesn’t matter what hot clue Kyeisha
dropped, or even if she knows which psycho drug dealer we can talk
to about Filipe’s banking habit. I. Don’t. Care. Bye.” Willa
started for the door.

“She threatened me,” Jazz said.

Willa stopped and turned around. “You could
whip Kyeisha’s ass any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

“Kyeisha made it clear. She’s more than
ready to tell Filipe and his old gang boys that I put him in
prison. To make it better she’ll tell them I took the money,” Jazz
said.

“Shit,” MiMi spluttered and then covered her
mouth with a hand.

* * *

Two hours later, Jazz settled back in the
leather seat of her Ford Explorer. She wheeled the black SUV
through MiMi’s upper-class enclave, through the solid working-class
part of town, and then to more familiar territory.

Poor people who worked hard had no choice,
not enough money to leave the hood. They lived jammed up against
drug dealers, dope heads, and prostitutes in an uneasy mutual
existence. Good citizens and lowlifes kept a close eye on each
other: one to keep from being victimized, the other to detect
anyone reporting them to the police—and to retaliate. Neat, though
old houses with trimmed tiny front yards were next to abandoned
urban shacks. Well, no neighborhood is perfect. This was Jazz’s
world, and she understood it all too well.