“And your clothes are funky,” added Piper. The youngster wrinkled her nose. “What happened to you?”
Fred stepped back, hands waving through the air.
“Sorry, guys. I had to check something out, and, well, I need to wash my hands.”
“And the rest of you. Plus, you better change clothes, ’cause you got some kinda gross lookin’ crap all over your skirt and top,” Piper said.
“Right. You guys know if that store over there would let me use the bathroom?”
All three shrugged.
“If my mom was home, I’d let you wash up in my place. But she’s not, so . . . sorry,” Piper said. At that moment two young men exited the building. Piper smiled at them and flipped one of her braids over her shoulder. Neither of the boys smiled back.
Grayson grunted. “Get over it, Piper.”
Piper shot him a look that said she’d like to give him something to “get over.”
“I understand your mom’s concerns. You guys have a good breakfast?” Jonelle asked as Fred crept closer.
“Yeah. But that stink coming from you is making me forget. Real fast,” Fred said, her freckled nose screwed up in disgust.
“Guess I better head out. But I’m coming back later this evening when more folks should be home. Will I see you guys again?”
Instead of answering the question, Grayson asked, “Did you go around questioning people? Like they do on TV?”
Piper groaned. “Of course she did. She’s a detective, remember? So, who’d you talk to?”
Slightly amused that twelve year-olds were questioning her, Jonelle answered. “Well, let’s see. There was Miss Maxine, and the maintenance man Jelani, and a young guy at the end of the hall on the seventh floor.”
“Randy? He lives across from me,” Fred said.
“Right. The light-skinned guy that looked like I woke him up. He said he didn’t know anything.”
“We think Randy’s kinda weird,” Piper said.
“Why weird?” Jonelle directed the question to Fred.
“Sometimes, late at night, he walks up and down the halls, mumbling to himself.”
The kids snickered.
Jonelle no longer cared about protocol and talking to kids. “How do you know this, Fred?”
“’Cause . . . I’ve seen him. Most of the time my mom don’t much care what I do, so sometimes I’ll go across the street for a slushy. That’s when I’ve seen him in the hall. No big deal.”
Several more people left the building, staring at the three kids and one smelly adult.
“He ever say anything?”
“A couple times. Stupid stuff like, ‘I’m gonna tell your mama on you.’ Like she cares anyway.”
An awkward silence hung in the air.
Piper spoke first. “That card you gave us. You know, about your business and all. It’s got an address on it, right?”
Jonelle nodded.
“You near a bus route?”
“My office is in the city, so there are several buses that run within a block of where I work.” Jonelle recited the route numbers of the MTA buses she knew offhand and suggested they check the MTA website to make sure.
“I’ll probably be in my office around nine or ten tomorrow. Call me if you’d like to come visit.”
Piper nodded. “Okay.”
Jonelle waved good-bye and headed for the convenience store across the street.
“Hey, Miss.”
She turned at the sound of Fred’s voice.
“Randy sometimes does more than walk up and down the halls.”
CHAPTER 8
The convenience store manager refused Jonelle’s request to use their facilities. Rolling down all the windows in the Jeep helped but didn’t wipe out the funky smell. She felt like a cartoon character where people could actually see wavy lines of stink coming from her body.
Even with the windows down, Jonelle turned the air conditioning on full blast. Before pulling out of the store’s parking lot she checked her rearview mirror and picked up a dark blue sedan. She left the store’s parking lot and turned left.
The sedan did the same.
The sun’s glare, and the car’s tinted windows, prevented her from getting a good look at the driver.
Who would follow her? Of the few apartment dwellers she talked to so far, only the caretaker Jelani seemed the most likely. But why would the maintenance man follow her? Especially since he tried to avoid her every chance he got. She kept driving and, about two miles from her home, thought about evading the tail when the sedan withdrew.
A half block from her condo she slowed to a crawl and checked up and down the tree-lined street in case the car had somehow managed to follow unnoticed. Nothing out of place caught her attention, so she pulled into her spot and let herself in the condo.
After a hot shower and change of clothes, and ten minutes playing with Gracie, she called Langford. To her surprise, he answered almost immediately. “Hi. Jonelle Sweet here. Wanted to let you know what I’ve done so far.” After a quick recap, he whistled softly.
“That Jelani guy. We checked his alibi for that night,” Langford said. “It holds up. But, this business of the two of them dating and him watching the kid.” A huge sigh. “That’s new. Neither one of them mentioned it. Could be something . . . or nothing.”
“Do you know what kind of car Jelani drives?”
“No. Why?”
“Curious is all.” She’d check it out herself later. “What about the sister?” Jonelle asked. “What was her name again?”
“Evelyn Clifton.”
“Right. If Tamora is still with her, I can talk to them both.”
“Ah. That’s why I’m glad you called. Tamora is back in her own apartment, as of”— papers rustled in the background—“an hour or so ago. I’ve given her a heads-up that you’ll stop by her place so it won’t come as a surprise when you show up.”
• • •
When she arrived back at the mid-rise, Jonelle headed straight for the elevators, pushed seven, and tapped her foot on the floor, willing the thing to go faster. She squeezed through the doors before they opened all the way. Jonelle glanced across the hall from Tamora’s apartment and imagined Maxine staring at her through the peephole. She pushed aside the urge to wave and, instead, knocked three times on the door to apartment 707 before it opened.
Large, slightly bugged, red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. The young woman had a small waist and wide hips. Her large chest looked as if it was trying to escape the confines of a very tight, lemon yellow tank top. The jeans Tamora wore strained against skin struggling to hold it all in.
“You that detective lady?”
“Yes. Your attorney said it would be okay if I asked you a few questions. May I come in?”
Tamora shrugged and stepped aside. “Close the door.”
Obeying the order without comment, Jonelle noted the pile of clothes in the middle of a well-worn hunter green sofa and the small tote bag resting on a sage-colored ottoman in front of the matching chair.
On the floor next to the sofa an open suitcase held more clothes. Scattered in the corner closest to the kitchen were several toys. Jonelle’s heart ached for the little girl who played with them a few days earlier. Where was she now?
Down the narrow hallway a door closed with a soft click.
“My sister is staying with me for a while.”
“I see. She owns a day care business, right?” Jonelle asked, eyes glued in the direction of the closed door.
“She’s taking a few days off.”
“Since she’s here I’d like to ask her a few questions.”
“You can’t. She’s taking a nap. Look, I’m kinda busy now, so if you wanna talk, get on with it.” Tamora shoved the clothes aside and plopped down on the sofa, her mouth nibbling a cuticle.
Since Tamora hadn’t invited her to sit, Jonelle said, “May I?” grabbed a chair from under the dining room table and carried it into the living room. She placed it
close to the young woman and sat. “Jelani tells me you and your sister are going into business together, but he wasn’t sure if you were joining her daycare business or something else.”
The young woman took the finger out of her mouth and sat up straight. “What else did Jelani say about me? What I do, or don’t do, is none of his damn business.”
“Understood, but I’ve talked to a lot of people in this building, and he’s one of them. Besides, you two dated and still see each other, right?”
Tamora stared off in the distance. “I can’t believe this,” she mumbled. “We don’t hang out anymore. The guy’s a freakin’ janitor, for crissakes. No possibilities. No future. I want more for me . . . and my daughter.”
Jonelle waited for Tamora to say more and, when she didn’t, continued. “I know you’re struggling with what happened, and I’m sorry I have to ask all these questions, but it can’t be avoided since I’m helping your attorney.” In fact, she wasn’t the least bit sorry. The woman’s attitude seemed odd for a grief-stricken mother.
“Where was Lark the last time you saw her?”
“Bedroom.” Tamora cocked her head in the direction of the closed door and resumed chewing on a cuticle.
“Is that her room?”
“This is a one-bedroom apartment. We share. I’m working two jobs to get us a bigger place.”
“What time was she taken?”
“Somewhere around ten-thirty or so last night.”
“Or so?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘Or so.’ Aren’t you sure?”
Tamora’s eyes narrowed. “You can stop playing games, Detective. You know I was arrested, and you know why. Has anybody even considered that the surveillance camera over there could’ve been broken?”
Fine, Jonelle thought. No beating around the bush worked for her, too. “Why did you leave your four-year-old alone?”
Tamora sat back against the sofa and played with the red-and-gold braids intertwined through her black hair. “I . . . we needed milk, so I ran across the street to get some.” Her voice hardened. “Are you accusing me of something?”
Jonelle spread her arms in a conciliatory fashion. “Look. We’re on the same team here. I want to find out what happened to your little girl. Right now, the cops think you’re involved somehow, so my job is to prove them wrong. In order to do that I need your help. So. You ran across the street for milk. Why didn’t you ask Miss Maxine to watch Lark?”
“Because Lark was already asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Miss Maxine could’ve come over here, couldn’t she?”
No reply.
“Since you needed milk, why didn’t you stop at the store before coming home?” Jonelle knew her questions were pushing the envelope, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Because I didn’t know until I looked in the fridge when I got home, all right?” Tamora said through gritted teeth.
“How did you lock your door?”
“What do you mean ‘how’?”
Jonelle walked to the door and checked the flimsy lock. She could pick the thing herself in under a minute. “Did you use a key?”
Tamora shifted her weight and turned her head toward the bedroom door before answering. “You don’t need a key to unlock it from the inside. All you have to do is turn the latch. When you close the door, it locks automatically.” The young woman crossed her arms.
“Okay. So it only locks when you twist the latch first.” Jonelle turned the lever back and forth. “Before you left, do you remember engaging the lock?”
Eyes flashed in response.
“Did you take your key? You know, to get back inside?”
Silence filled the room. Jonelle waited.
Finally, “The door was open when I got back.”
That wasn’t the question. Jonelle let it pass. For now. “When you say ‘open’ do mean as in unlocked or ajar?”
“As in cracked open a little.” Tamora’s voice dripped with contempt.
Jonelle ignored the woman’s tone. “What did you think when you saw that?”
“That some sonofabitch had robbed me,” she said. As if illustrating that point, Tamora turned her head toward the flat screen television on the wall.
“Weren’t you worried about your child?”
“What’re you implying?” Tamora’s hands balled into fists on her lap.
In a quiet voice, Jonelle said, “Your child was alone, and when you returned your door was open. It makes sense you’d be concerned for her safety.”
“Of course I was. That’s what I meant. Somebody could’ve robbed me of my child. Look. I’m tired. I can’t talk to you anymore right now.”
She sprung up from the couch and stomped to the door.
Jonelle repeated the question she’d asked before. “Did you take your key with you when you left?”
“I . . . yeah. Probably. Stuck it in my jeans along with the money when I went to the store.”
Jonelle doubted Tamora could stick anything into those jeans.
“Did you meet anyone at the store?” The store’s surveillance camera had picked up Tamora talking to a young man.
“Lotsa people go there all the time. Reggie’s one of ’em. We used to go out, and we’re still friends so we always speak, shoot the breeze, that kinda thing. So what? I got a lot of friends.”
I’ll bet you do, Jonelle thought. “I’d like to come back tomorrow. After you’ve rested a bit. If your sister’s still here, I’ll talk to her as well.”
Tamora opened the door without comment.
Before she left, Jonelle held the young woman’s eyes. “Listen. I’m not the enemy. I want to do everything I can to help find your little girl and bring her home safe.”
Tamora’s eyes filled with tears. “Fine,” she murmured.
“One more thing. How long was it from the time you left to the time you returned to your apartment?”
“I don’t care what the cops’ so-called evidence shows, I was only gone five minutes.”
CHAPTER 9
Mama always told me if you want somethin’ done right, you gotta do it yourself.
I done my part. No problem. Since the jackass didn’t show, I had to get in and out of that apartment like a horney sailor with a half hour pass. So what do I get for all the risk I took? I get a call. Last night. Told me some people was having second thoughts. Second thoughts? What the fuck? Seems like they wanted to see an older kid. How the hell can somebody go through all this crap and not mention how old she is?
Not happy about this. Not. At. All. No way I’m gonna let them stick me with this kid the whole time. She likes where she is now, so I say let her stay there. But no. Following the plan means keep moving her around. I’m sick and tired of being stuck in . . . this place. Got my own life to live. My own responsibilities.
Told ’em I’ll take my turn but I’ll keep her only ’til the end of the week or else pay me more money. A lot more. If that don’t happen, I’m gonna take matters into my own hands. Plan or no plan.
CHAPTER 10
Adrienne sat at one end of the couch with Gracie on the arm at the other end. Both eyed each other suspiciously.
“This is what happens when I leave you alone for a few weeks.” She pointed to the calico kitten across from her. “You turn into a crazy old cat lady.”
Jonelle placed a tray of nachos and wine on the coffee table. “I object to that. First, I’m not old, and second, one cat doesn’t make a person crazy. Besides, you can’t ignore the fact that she’s the cutest thing ever. Why, only this morning, she—”
“That’s what I mean,” Adrienne said. “That’s how it starts. You begin telling everyone who’ll listen what cute thing Fuzzy did and—”
“Her name’s Gracie.”
“Fine. Whatever. The point is that’s how it starts. Next comes all the pictures and YouTube videos. And the smell. Honestly. The next time I go on vacation, am I gonna have to demand you report in before this
place is overflowing with critters?”
As if to solidify her status, Gracie jumped from the arm of the sofa and deposited herself on Jonelle’s lap, nearly spilling the glass of wine. “Oops. Careful, little one.”
Adrienne pointed an accusatory, manicured nail at Jonelle. “And you’re talking to her as if she were a person. When was the last time you went out on a date?”
Careful not to dislodge the kitten, Jonelle positioned herself in such a way as to provide maximum comfort for Gracie and still grab a few nachos. “I don’t want to get into an argument about her,” she said, ignoring the last question. “She’s staying and that’s that. Besides, you didn’t smell a thing when you came in, right? Now, do you want to hear my news or not?”
Adrienne sniffed the air. “Point taken,” she said, still giving Gracie the stink eye.
Jonelle often confided in her best friend on her PI cases. Adrienne acted as a sounding board and gave good advice. “Mmm. Think I should’ve put a few more jalapenos on these. They don’t have quite the kick they usually do.”
“You gonna tell me the news?” Adrienne asked.
“Have you heard anything about a little girl abducted in Maryland City?”
The wine glass stopped before Adrienne’s lips made contact. “You involved with that?”
“I found out the name of the mother’s court-appointed attorney and offered my services. He accepted.”
Through narrowed eyes Adrienne said, “You went out and got a case on your own. And Marvin’s okay with that? I bet he had a few choice words to say.”
Outside of immediate family, Adrienne Roth knew Marvin Shorter very well.
“He said more than a few words, but I convinced him I could do my work at the agency as well as this case. Langford, that’s her lawyer, seemed to think, and I agree, that as a black woman, the mother might open up to me. Still working on that.”
The sound of crunching chips filled the air for several seconds.
“Don’t tell me there aren’t any black folks in the public defender’s office, ’cause I know there are. If she didn’t want to answer questions from the white guy, they could’ve assigned somebody black.”
Five Minutes Page 5
