What Simon Didn’t Say

by Copeland, Joy

  “So what else do you know?”

  “I can’t tell you exactly what I know or how I know it.” Zoie was protecting Jazz and what she’d said about Sister Te and Annette, the infamous night monitor.

  “Whoa! You’re still full of secrets. You still think Jahi’s guilty. Tell me—do you have evidence? Specific evidence?”

  “No. Not about him. I’m hoping the investigation will flush out the evidence. Anyway, my source didn’t mention him,” Zoie answered. She wondered whether Lena had been talking to Jahi.

  “Hmm. Well, I’ve known him longer than you have. Blackmail, drug peddling, murder. Nah, that’s not him. It doesn’t add up. Jahi’s been a straight shooter to a fault. He may be guilty of something but certainly not those criminal things. Shoot, if he’d stayed in the council race and won, he would have made a lousy politician. He doesn’t have the chops for lying.”

  “If you say so.” Zoie was tight lipped.

  “I think that kid and his ex did the dirt.”

  Zoie no longer wanted to discuss Jahi’s guilt or innocence. The waiter’s approach ended that line of conversation. They both ordered Greek custard pie and tea.

  “This is de-lish,” said Lena, licking her fork. “I shouldn’t be eating it. But what the hell.”

  “Okay, I’m ready to be interviewed,” Zoie said, finishing her custard pie and leaning back in her seat. “I’ve informed Crayton’s Board. I’ve fulfilled my fiduciary responsibility, so now we can proceed. But first let’s establish some ground rules.”

  “Ha! The truth is there’s no need.”

  “What do you mean? You’ve been pushing for this story.”

  “Yes, and you owe me—remember? But…since I no longer work for the Washington Times, what’s the point? I’m not in the mood to do a freelance piece, unless I’m assured of getting paid.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, they axed me. It happened yesterday afternoon, right after we made the date to meet. I thought we should still get together so that I could tell you in person.”

  Zoie winced. “Oh, Lena, I’m so sorry.”

  “Deep down I knew this was coming,” Lena continued. “I was just hoping it wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the interview sooner. Do you understand why I couldn’t talk to you on the record before?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not blaming you. Getting the exclusive wouldn’t have made any difference in my job situation. The paper’s mind was made up. My beat, the DC social scene, was eliminated. The City Desk lost people too. The problem is deep. It’s the damn Internet.”

  Zoie was relieved that she didn’t have to do the interview. Anyway, the bare bones of the story had already appeared in The Washington Post without any quotes from her.

  “Guess I’ll freelance for a while,” Lena proclaimed. “I’ve got to do something to pay my mortgage.”

  Zoie explained her own decision to leave the Foundation.

  “You’re leaving of your own accord,” Lena reminded her. “That’s not the same thing.”

  “For sure,” Zoie admitted. In fact, she already had leads on new positions. Information that she wouldn’t share with Lena.

  “This calls for a celebration,” Lena said. “Waiter! Two vodka tonics for two unemployed people!”

  When the waiter brought the drinks, Lena and Zoie raised their glasses. Lena made the toast. “To starting over and to finding the truth.”

  Chapter 53

  Cat Cow to the Rescue

  Zoie watched Tina drain her martini. Her friend had left her vegetarian entree untouched. The concerned waitress checked in. “Ladies, are your dishes okay?”

  “Oh, yes,” Tina answered. Zoie shook her head in agreement. The food was usually good at Nora’s, albeit a little pricey. Organic ingredients added to the flavor and also to the cost.

  Zoie picked at her chicken entrée, but unlike Tina she’d resisted filling up on alcohol. She vowed to not re-create the debilitating martini hangover she’d suffered in Florida. She’d have to relate the happenings of the past six weeks perfectly sober.

  “All this drama is enough to make me start eating steak,” said the committed vegetarian. The saga of the Shelter’s drug gang and Ray Gaddis’s murder had her head spinning. Indeed, Tina had been out of the loop. She sipped her water and promised not to order more liquor until she ate. “Zoie, I can’t keep all the names straight. Who’s this Lena person again? Is she the sister who works for that right-wing newspaper? And did I hear right? Your assistant was having an affair with the drug dealer?”

  “Yes, and yes,” Zoie answered blandly. “By the way, that paper, the Washington Times, laid her off.”

  “Too bad.” Tina frowned. “So the crazy homeless guy with the book of codes gave you the fortune-cookie clues?”

  “No! There were two homeless guys. You see—I knew this was too complicated to explain over dinner.”

  “Hold on. Okay, there were two of them. Just get me straight on a couple of points.”

  “Maynard, the one you’re calling crazy, was with me in the Shelter. He’s in a halfway house, recuperating from his injuries. And thank goodness that he’s now on his meds.”

  “And the codebook you talked about?”

  “That’s Maynard’s binder, and I got a guy I know who teaches high school AP math to help with that. He got a few of his students to decipher the contents. Maynard used common coding techniques, things kids use.”

  “So what did they uncover? Anything juicy?”

  “Lots of recipes—lasagna, chili, fried chicken, and so on. And info on the khat operation at the Shelter and some damning stuff about the incompetence at Aberdeen, where he used to work.”

  “The biotest facility in Maryland?”

  “Yep! And I haven’t seen the other guy since he left me at the Shelter.”

  “That’s Simon. He gave you the messages, right?”

  “Yep. Little fortune-cookie strips.”

  “I’d call them messages. Wow! Well, I can’t say I’m making sense of it. I missed all that, huh? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You are joking? I tried many times to contact you. Either your phone was off, or you just refused to answer. I left voice messages. Do you ever check your voice mail?”

  “Sorry,” said Tina. She shrugged and stared at her cold food.

  “If you want to be incommunicado, you can’t ask me why I didn’t call.”

  “To tell the truth, I don’t listen to voice messages. I can’t remember my password to retrieve them,” Tina said unapologetically. “It’s amazing how after years of being on a telephone leash, you can just cut the ties. Anyway, you could have texted SOS or something.”

  “Note to self,” Zoie said, disgusted, “Tina Davis only responds to texts.”

  An awkward silence followed. Zoie stared at her plate and pushed her cold food around with her fork. It was Tina who restarted the conversation.

  “Look, Zoie, I’m really sorry. Obviously, I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’ve been caught up in my own trials and tribulations.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So you’ve been playing detective all summer. Hey, when you were a kid, did you want to be Nancy Drew?”

  “Never thought about it,” Zoie answered coldly, not ready to let Tina off the hook.

  “Sounds like Nancy Drew stuff to me.”

  “Nancy Drew was pedestrian,” Zoie said, finally perking up. “I wanted to be a superhero actually. Wonder Woman.”

  “So that explains it. Well, Wonder Woman was too goody goody for me,” said Tina. “Now Cat Woman was more my style…but let’s get serious. You’ve been dealing with some dangerous characters.”

  “Yeah. I thought I was going undercover to investigate regular old white-collar stuff.”

  “Zoie, they could’ve killed you. Then my poor goddaughter would only have me to rely on.”

  “Well, maybe, maybe not.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’ve c
hanged your mind about Nikki’s guardianship?” Tina said, raising her voice. “Was my being out of touch that upsetting?”

  “Tina, calm down. That’s not it. Yes, not being able to contact you was irritating. But I’d never reverse my decision about something so important, just like that. You’re still my pick for Nikki’s guardian. And thanks again for letting me use your car and condo. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Elliot’s back in the picture, or I should say he wants to be back in the picture.”

  Tina rolled her eyes and signaled for their waitress. “This is getting better and better.” When the waitress came to the table, Tina pointed to her empty martini glass. “Another one of these, please.”

  “And can you please rewarm our plates and bring me a merlot?” After the waitress left, Zoie said, “Let’s back up on Elliot a minute. You haven’t heard the other part of this story. While the Shelter and drug thing was going on, Nikki ran away from the Benjamins. Because of a puppy.”

  “No, girl!” said Tina, her mouth gaping.

  Zoie gave Tina the short version of the puppy saga, explaining how at first she’d suspected the drug gang of kidnapping Nikki, under orders from Jahi. “Of course, I was wrong about that,” Zoie explained. “It was all Nikki’s doing. And go figure—it was Elliot who found her.”

  Tina’s eyes widened. “No need to go to the movies. The latest dramas are playing right here.”

  The reheated food arrived, along with their drinks.

  “So that’s how I ended up bringing Nikki and the puppy home from Ohio, in your car, and you know the rest. You didn’t find any dog hair, did you?” Zoie asked anxiously. “I had the car and your place thoroughly cleaned.

  “They’re fine. I’m glad they got some use while I was away.” Tina stroked the condensation on the martini glass with her finger. “But I’m still processing all this. Out of everything you’ve told me, Nikki’s disappearance was the only incident that didn’t involve Jahi or this Tarik.”

  “Right. But as I told you, at first I thought both Jahi and Tarik were involved. I guess I was wrong. So far Jahi hasn’t been arrested for anything.”

  “But why?”

  “No evidence. Nothing links him directly to the drug business or to Ray’s murder or to the fraud involving the grant funds. Being the Shelter’s director and a Board member of the Shelter, he had fiduciary responsibility. Soooo I can only hope that they’ll find something down the line to nail him.”

  “Has he contacted you? Have you talked to him?”

  “No. Thank goodness. I don’t want to talk to him. He’s on my shit list on so many levels.”

  “What about junior Jahi?”

  “Tarik’s in DC jail. The judge denied bail. He thinks he’s a flight risk. Plus, there’s a request to extradite him to Montgomery County. Maryland is looking at murder charges. They’ve linked the drugs in Gaddis’s body with the drugs found at the Shelter’s drug house. And I heard that Jahi’s ex, Sister Te, has gone missing. Remember she’s Tarik’s mother. The police think she’s fled the country.”

  “How do you like that? She skips the country and leaves her son to do the time.”

  “Looks that way,” Zoie answered with another deep sigh. “Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

  “Betcha Jahi knows where she is.”

  “Perhaps, but who cares?” Zoie finally took a bite of her food. “I want to talk about something else. How are things with you? You must’ve had a fabulous time in Florida with Bert.”

  “Right,” Tina answered with a smirk. She flipped back her reddish-brown curls.

  “What happened?”

  “Bert’s a freak. Actually I knew he was somewhat a freak, at least a tiger in bed. But what I didn’t know was that his sexual predilections extended professionally.”

  “Huh?”

  “Remember that I told you he was producing videos of gentle yoga for the geriatric set, like the one I’m in. Well, that endeavor turned into producing this hot new thing—yoga porn. Evidently there’s a lot of money in it, and more than anything Bert wants to make money. So nude yoga or yoga porn is the latest thing.”

  “Nooooo! You didn’t?” Zoie said.

  “Of course I didn’t. Bert was fun—for a while. I’m no prude, but it all got…creepy.”

  “Too strange.”

  “Dear friend, I kid you not. I didn’t figure it out for a long time. Stupid me. She tapped her forehead.”

  “Yeah, join the ‘Stupid Me Club.’”

  Zoie’s thoughts went to her missing friend and helper at the Shelter’s women’s section—Jazz. Jazz would have appreciated the business opportunities in yoga porn. Zoie never found out what happened to the young woman after the Shelter closed soon after the drug bust. Somewhere out there, perhaps Jazz was on her way to realizing her dream in the independent, online sex business. Once Zoie had looked down on Jazz’s career choice, but who was she to pooh-pooh someone else’s dreams? Jazz’s twist on the sex business was sure better than returning to an abusive pimp. One day she’d look her up online.

  “Earth to Zoie! Earth to Zoie!” Tina cocked her head sideways to glare at her friend.

  “Oh, I’m still here,” Zoie answered stiffly.

  “Girl, you drifted off. Is yoga porn that shocking?”

  “No. It’s the mental pictures. I can’t erase the vision of a Cat-Cow pose in the buff.”

  The thought of yoga porn tickled Zoie’s funny bone. A contagious giddiness took hold of her, and Tina joined in. Zoie fanned her red face and took a large sip of her merlot. The sip was a bad idea. She tried to stifle her next giggle, but it was too late. The wine shot up into her nose. In a quick move to halt the embarrassing flow of burgundy liquid, she grabbed a napkin and covered her nose and mouth. Her failed attempts to control her demeanor only intensified Tina’s giggles. Both women tried to muffle the sounds of their antics. Tina pressed her hand against her mouth to deaden her squeals of delight. Silliness tears rolled down Zoie’s cheeks. Folks at a nearby table looked their way for a minute and then refocused on their own meals.

  “No matter how bad things get, sometimes you just have to laugh,” Tina said after she regained enough composure to speak.

  “Oh, Tina, it’s so good to have you back in town,” Zoie said, leaning forward with the laughter tears still rolling down her cheeks.

  It was the first time in a long time that Zoie had laughed. It was the first time in a long time that she thought that everything was going to be all right.

  Chapter 54

  Some Things You’ll Never Know

  Frances Woods looked out the bay window of her reconfigured dining room. The room now served as her bedroom, complete with a handicap-accessible bathroom. She looked down the ivy-covered hill to the street. There, in the front of the house, the view was much more preferable. When she was upstairs at night, the moonlight created eerie shadows on her bedroom ceiling. And in the day the starlings queued on the back power line, reminiscent of Hitchcock’s The Birds. Overall, being downstairs was better. Why hadn’t she thought of this change before?

  Zoie had moved back to her childhood home some eighteen months ago. The once-quiet house on Brandywine was quiet no more. The move solved a number of Zoie’s logistical issues. Nikki’s dog had a welcoming place to live. The fenced backyard relieved Zoie of the chore of dog walking. For a modest increase in pay, Queen agreed to meet Nikki’s school van and to be available to care for Nikki after school. There was no money lost on the change since Zoie was able to sublet her Connecticut Avenue apartment until its lease expired.

  Since the changes Frances Woods’s health had also improved. Her once persistent cough was now a bad memory. Being on the first floor, she could access the kitchen and the living room, leaving the upstairs to Zoie, Nikki, and Queen. She hadn’t seen the changes they’d made to the upstairs rooms, and part of her didn’t care much about what they’d done. She was content. She’d received her heart’s desire—the
company of her granddaughter and great-granddaughter. Life, which previously had been an endless drone of illness, was once more livable.

  Frances Woods saw a man across the street. He seemed to be watching the house. He looked to be tall, and he seemed to be black. Between the cap he wore and her failing eyesight, she couldn’t make out his face. “What’s he looking up here for?” she asked under her breath.

  She didn’t notice Zoie standing in the doorway and holding a manila envelope. Zoie was dressed in a peach-colored tracksuit, and her hair was nicely coifed. The trial for the Shelter had been difficult for her. And having to change jobs in the midst of everything had been a challenge. But those days of confusion had passed. Now her granddaughter had a glow about her. It seemed that Zoie had found some peace after moving in. Thank the Lord, thought Frances Woods.

  “Morning, Grandma. What are you mumbling about?”

  “Nothing,” Frances Woods said with a sigh. Now focused on her granddaughter, thoughts of the man across the street faded. She braced herself on her walker and maneuvered to a nearby armchair. “Just babbling to myself. Anyway, you shouldn’t be sneaking up on me.”

  “Sorry,” Zoie said. She plopped on the bed across from her grandmother. “You’re pretty chipper this morning, already dressed and all. Is Ms. Ida coming by?”

  “Yes, after church. But look at you! You’re too dressed up for a run. You must be expecting Dylan.”

  “I am,” Zoie answered with a grin that would not be contained. “We’re going for a run in the park.”

  “I’m glad he’s going with you. That park is too dangerous these days. Remember t the body of that girl they found several years back. That was when you were still in New York.”

  “I remember,” Zoie answered with a sigh. “Just bones. All they found were bones. Don’t worry. I won’t go running alone. But first Dylan is going to fix us brunch.”

  “My, my,” Frances Woods said, her tone approving. She’d learned long ago it was better to keep commentary on Zoie’s love life to a minimum.

  “After last night’s sleepover, Tina’s taking Nikki and her niece to the American Girl store at Tysons Corner. Nikki can pick out the doll she wants for her birthday.”