Death, Deceit & Some Smooth Jazz

by Claudia Mair Burney

  “What kind of cologne are you wearing?”

  “Lagerfeld.”

  “Lagerfeld?When did you start wearing that?”

  “I don’t wear it often. I thought today was special.”

  I felt like he’d knocked the wind out of me. But he hadn’t been wearing cologne when he came to me Monday night. Had he? Wouldn’t I remember that?

  “Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Bell. Souldier told me that they also found leather under her fingernails. Whoever killed her had on leather gloves. Very expensive brown calfskin leather. I don’t have any leather gloves. If I did, I’d probably go with black ones. And certainly not expensive calfskin ones.”

  That bit of news brought my emotions swinging back to the calm side. “That’s good.”

  “It’s not the most compelling evidence in the world, but it’s something.”

  “Something beats nothing.”

  “They’re going to see that it could have been someone other than me.”

  I wasn’t so sure. I eased my body deeper into the couch cushions and propped my feet up on the coffee table. I considered drinking the entire bottle of champagne. I was about to reach for it when Jazz ran his finger up my arm with electrifying results.

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I told you everything you want to know. Be fair.”

  “Who said all is fair in love and war?”

  “Is this love or war?”

  I stood up. “I’d like dinner now.” I tried to walk toward the kitchen, but he stood, too, and took my hand in his.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I’ve got a burning question.”

  The way he looked at me, more than that was burning.

  “What is it, Jazz?”

  “What happened between the kiss you gave me this afternoon, when you became my wife, and now?”

  “I don’t know what happened,” I lied.

  He stood and put his arms around my waist. He looked into my eyes. “I think you need a little bit of that comfort I vowed to God today that I would give you.”

  “I hate this, Jazz. I hate thinking about all of Kate’s tawdry little entanglements. I hate wondering if you’re the man I think you are. And I hate wondering what’s going to happen to you. Maguire thinks you’re guilty, and that pompous Archie Dandridge——”

  “I’m not one of Maguire’s favorite people. He’s in the camp that believes my face got me my position. Dandridge has hated me since the seventh grade.”

  “They’re not even entertaining the idea that someone else could be responsible. That’s terrifying to me.”

  “It is to me, too.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Of course I’m scared. I’m scared to death.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Youare going to stop sleuthing. Andwe are going to pray very hard that God will do whatHe does: take care of us. Do justice. All of that, baby. I see you got a copy ofThe Divine Hours. We’re going to start using it. We pray the hours at my parish. It’s not this version, but it’s similar. We can make our life work. You, me, and God.”

  “It seems like we should do more than pray.”

  “We can do more than that.”

  I looked up into his kind eyes. I felt hopeful for the first time that day. “What else can we do?”

  “Do you know what I came back here for? What was so important to me?”

  “I’m guessing it wasn’t your toothbrush.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Did you leave your cell phone or wallet?”

  “Nope.”

  “The clothes you had on Wednesday?”

  “I came back for my wife.”

  “Jazz. I’m just an ordinary woman. I don’t look like Kate——there is nothing about me that——”

  He silenced me with his finger to my lips. “There’s nothing ordinary about you. I love you, Bell.”

  He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on my lips. Just a tiny kiss. Sweet. Hunger and need for him consumed me. He took my hand in his and walked me to the bedroom door.

  “Mrs. Brown?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  “Let me show you that you are the only woman I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you in that red dress.”

  Even if he didn’t truly love me, maybe this could be enough. Father, forgive me, for I know what I’m doing.

  I squeezed my husband’s hand and let him take me wherever he wanted to go.

  chapter twenty-four

  IWATCHED HIM SLEEP,taking in the line of his jaw. His full, intoxicating lips, with a bit of a smile about them. The eyes shut tight beneath his strong masculine brows. The Irish nose, just like Jack’s. The soft brown waves of his hair. His stunning beauty.

  You are comely, my love.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, only because they had filled with tears. I could not cry. Not in his arms. “Oh.”

  My bones had turned to liquid. His loving had made me a storm. I was wet skin, a tangle of languid limbs flush against him. I could almost feel my blood rushing like wind to find its way from my heart to my head, hands, fingers, feet, toes. I could hardly move, but the tempestuous waves crashing in my soul demanded release. Jazz’s comforts were spent. I needed the Lover of my soul.

  I’m so sorry, Jesus.

  But all I heard in reply were those gales of grief within, threatening to crush me. Hot tears slid down my face.

  “Please, God,” I whispered, “I don’t want him to wake up and see me crying.”

  We were perfect, every moment of our togetherness——like jazz——all soaring notes, brazen beats, and complicated melodies.

  Spent, I knew I had given him everything I had. I had opened the door of my soul to this man, giving him the power to devastate me. The knowledge spawned fear, giving way to fight or flight.

  I chose flight.

  The strength to move away from him surged inside of me. I slid out of his embrace, pulling my great-grandmother’s Star of Bethlehem quilt over my body. Jazz only stirred, still deep in slumber.

  I tightened the quilt around me. There were stories in that quilt. Lessons. Strength and direction. Ma Brown had told me in the time of the Underground Railroad, if a runaway slave found a house with the quilt of the North Star flung around the roof, someone would be there to help them. A guide to take them safely forward.

  “Where is my someone?” I cried into my fist, clutching the quilt. “I need help, right now. I don’t know where to go from here.”

  And as in the eye of the storm, my soul went silent, and I heard God speak to me the words my great-grandmother had said to me until the day she died:Call on Jesus.

  But I didn’t call on the Lord. He seemed a little too far away. I wanted comfort I could hear in a voice sweet and familiar. A voice that would not let me down in a time of trouble. I wanted the man who’d prayed me through the worst days of trying to piece my life back together, even though at the time, he was little more than a goofy kid who loved the Lord.

  I wanted to talk to my pastor.

  I snatched my cell phone from my nightstand and punched in Rocky’s number, padding quietly into the living room. It was late, but he’d take the call no matter what time it was. I stood in the corner of my living room, across from the naked Christmas tree in the other corner. I slid down to the floor, listened to his phone ring, and waited for the comfort of my friend. It occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t home. I was just about to hang up——

  “Hello?”

  His voice sounded lively. He wasn’t asleep at all.

  “Rocky,” I whispered.

  “Babe?”

  “Hi.”

  He could tell something was wrong. He spoke as softly as he would to a newborn. “Hi, babe. What are you doing?”

  “I’m sitting in the corner.”

  “Why are you sitting in the corner?”

  “Rock, do you think you coul
d be with someone if you loved them but you knew they would never love you the same way?”

  “I know I could. You know I could, too.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “That’s not true. It has nothing to do with what anyone deserves. It’s just love, babe.”

  I laughed, despite my pain. “I’m scared, Rocky.”

  “Scared of what?” I could hear the alarm rise in his voice. “Has someone hurt you?”

  “I don’t know.” I dissolved into tears.

  I could hear Rocky shushing and soothing me with his voice, as honey as his blond hair. “Babe, what happened to you?”

  “It’s what could happen. What must happen. I’m sure of it.”

  “What could happen?”

  “I just need you to pray for me. Can you pray for me?”

  “I will pray. Just tell me one thing.”

  “What is it, Rocky?”

  “What did he do to you?”

  Another wave of tears, sharp and cutting as a blade, assaulted me. Between sobs, I choked out the words: “I just want to be safe. And to be loved.”

  “You don’t know how to be loved, babe. I’ve been trying to love you for seven years.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m——”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “How do you know it was——”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I wish I’d never met him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel things with him. I do things——”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No. He didn’t do anything. I can’t explain it. I’m a little confused. I’m feeling so scared. Just pray for me, okay?”

  “Okay. I will. Will you stay on the phone with me?”

  “I can’t, Rocky. My heart is broken.”

  I heard his voice catch as he said, “Mine, too.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  I hung up the phone without even saying good-bye. I rocked myself in that corner, sobbing and wiping my nose on my favorite quilt.

  Ten minutes later, I heard a soft knock at my door. It certainly wasn’t Jazz. And my mother and Carly had keys.

  Oh God, what have I done?

  I dropped the quilt on the floor and pulled on my robe, rushing to the door before Jazz could hear. Rocky stood there. His cheeks and nose were pink, and his eyes red-rimmed and teary. “Babe.” He pulled me into his arms.

  “Rocky, you shouldn’t have come.”

  “I needed to know you’re okay.”

  “Please, you have to go now.”

  “I’ll fight for you. I will.”

  “You’re not a fighter, Rocky. You’re a turn-the-other-cheek guy. You’re the disciple who rests his head on the bosom of Jesus.”

  “I want to be with you. Let’s try again.”

  “It’s over between us. You have to go now.”

  “I know you love him, I know you want to be with him, but pick me. Guys like him, they have everything. He doesn’t need you like I do.”

  “He doesn’t have everything, Rocky. His life is a mess right now.”

  “He has you. He has everything I want.”

  I glanced at my bedroom door, worried that Jazz would hear us. “I’m not everything you want.”

  “I knew he’d take you away from me.”

  “Let me tell you something, Rocky. I can’t be with a man like him. I’m in some kind of crazy dream. I’m not meant to be with an Adonis or a god. Guys like him don’t pick me. They don’t pick me.”

  “I pick you. I love you. Be with me.”

  I stepped out of his embrace. “Shhh. Listen to me. I saw you singing to Elisa, and there was something magical and beautiful there.”

  “That was dumb and insensitive of me. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m a blockhead. I’m sorry.”

  “I saw something in the way you looked at her. In the way she looked at you. Something undeniable. Let yourself have it.”

  “I just made a mistake. I wanted to make her happy.”

  “Youcan make her happy, Rocky. Do it.”

  He shook his head. Stepped up to me and tried to gather me in his arms but hesitated. “I’ve loved you for a very long time. I’m always going to love you.”

  Oh, this hurt. Rocky really was my rock. He was always the love I could depend on. The love that didn’t demand anything of me. The one I knew would never leave me for the perfect woman. To Rocky, Iwas the perfect woman.

  I cradled his sweet face. “Let me tell you something, okay, babe?” I whispered. He loved it when I called him babe. “I’m a psychologist, and I know these things.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back through his unshed tears. “You’ve believed I’m the only one for you for so long that it’s automatic thinking now. It’s not true, Rock. You just think it’s true because you haven’t really looked at it in so long. But think about our lives. We don’t see each other that way anymore. We haven’t dated for over a year, and you do great without me. I see how you look at Elisa——”

  His voice dropped to match my whisper. “I’m sorry. She’s so pretty. I don’t mean——”

  “You do mean it. And that’s good. ’Cause she needs a good man like you to help her with that baby, and all the other green-eyed, towheaded babies you’ll give her. She’s twenty-three. She’s got many babies in her. She has what you need, not me.”

  “I don’t care about the babies. It’s you I want.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Just let me show you. Let me show you how much I want you.”

  The second man who’d said something like that to me tonight.

  Rocky gathered me in his arms and kissed me so softly and tenderly that my heart broke in a thousand pieces. I didn’t know how to stop him and tell him that I was ruined for any man, including my husband, who lay sleeping in my bed.

  At least I thought he was sleeping——until I heard his voice cut into me like a machete.

  “Did you ever get that déjà vu feeling? Like you’ve done this whole thing before?”

  Rocky released me. He looked confused at seeing the half-naked man standing at my bedroom door. Then the reality of the situation dawned on him. “You slept with him” came out of his mouth. A statement, not a question.

  I stood centered between the two most important men in my life, my husband and my pastor and friend. I felt like the woman in the Bible caught in the act of adultery, waiting for the first stone to come crashing into my head. Jesus chased her accusers away, but where was He now? The only thing I could think to say sounded hollow, even to me: “This is not what it looks like.”

  Jazz laughed. “It’s not? It looks like you crawled out of bed with me to go lock lips with another man. Correct me if I’m mistaken.”

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Rocky spoke. “Which one of us are you talking to?”

  “Both of you.”

  Rocky’s face had turned as stony as his name. He moved toward my door, turned back to me, and asked what he already knew. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “What?” Jazz said. “Is that a sin?” He shot a look at me. “It wasn’t a sin to make love to you, was it?”

  My eyes pleaded with him. “Please stop.”

  “Please stop?That’s not what you said in the bedroom.”

  “You’ve made your point, Jazz,” I said.

  “You’ve gotta admit, it’s a good point.”

  Rocky excused himself. “I should go.”

  “Yes. You should,” my husband said.

  Rocky hesitated. “Babe?”

  Jazz roared, “Don’t. Call. Her. Babe.” He lunged at Rocky, but I grabbed him.

  “Jazz, no.” I stood between them, clinging to my husband’s bare chest. “Please, Jazzy. Can you just go into the room?”

  “You want me to go somewhere? So you can finish up?”

  “Amanda,” Rocky whispered. He never called me Amanda.

  “Yes, Roc
ky?”

  “I’m the one who should leave.” He turned to go. Just before he opened the door, he looked back to me. “Please find another church to go to.” He slipped quietly out of my apartment and closed the door behind him.

  I looked at my husband. His look burned.

  “Go to another church? He aims too high. I say go to hell.Amanda. ”

  He stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. I could hear him cursing and talking to himself. I stood in the middle of the room, as still as a stone, shivering in the quilt.

  A few minutes later, he came out of the room. He threw the keys to my apartment across the room. They slammed against the wall and went crashing to the floor. Amos didn’t make a sound.

  “Don’t you ever come near me again. I don’t want a marriage to you. I don’t want a baby with you. And I don’t wantyou. ”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he bit his bottom lip and hurried out of my door. His last words hung in the air.

  I don’t wantyou.

  I’d known that’s what would happen. I’d known it all along.

  chapter twenty-five

  MY PHONE RANGall morning as if a national tragedy had struck. My caller ID revealed that all kinds of folks wanted a word with me, including my boss. My mother must have continuously speed-dialed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to stay curled up in a ball under my great-grandmother’s Star of Bethlehem quilt, hoping she’d send the magi my way to lead me back to Jesus.

  What I got was someone pounding at my door like the police. My heart fluttered.It’s Jazz! I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

  I took the time to throw on my ratty peach pajamas, though the silver gown lay on the chair beside my bed.Let him suffer a little bit, too, I rationalized. I unlocked the locks and swung the door open.

  “Good heavens!” I said.

  Kalaya stood there, looking livid. “Why aren’t you answering your phones? I tried your cell, your landline. I paged you on your beeper.”

  “Come in, Kal. I had a bad night. I didn’t want to answer the phone.”

  She followed me into the living room. “Well, I’m sorry to say that I’m not bearing good news. Literally.”