“Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way. Keep an eye on that SUV. If it moves before I get there, call me.” Jonelle decided to stay at the back of the building. She kept close to the trash containers, using each one as a cover in case the building had a silent alarm and Watkins, or anyone else, came looking out the back. At this point she didn’t care if the barbershop guy spied her and thought she was weird or not. Plus there was no sign of Riley anywhere.
Jonelle sprinted to the spot where Adrienne stood between the Jeep and her own vehicle.
“Where’s the other one?” Adrienne asked, as Jonelle came and stood beside her.
“No idea. She went inside posing as another cleaning woman, next thing I know she’s staring at me out a back window. She let the damn door slam before I could slip inside. And she split before she could tell me what she found out. Damn Luther for suggesting her in the first place.”
“What’d he do that for?”
“Thought she could help. She was a cop before the drugs took hold and she lost everything.”
Adrienne made sympathetic noises. “What’s next?”
“You go back to your place. I’ll give you a call later.”
“Where’re you going?”
“Home. I’ve gotta think all this through. Plus, I feel bad about neglecting Gracie.”
Adrienne slid inside her Saab. “Since you’ve already become a certified cat person, why not get the little one a friend?”
Jonelle’s mouth gaped open. “Are you kidding me? You’d come visit knowing there were two cats?”
“As long as you get one as cute as her, I have no complaints.” She waved and took off before Jonelle could respond.
One more look at the stationary SUV in front of Playcat and Jonelle made a decision. The supply guy mentioned seeing Watkins with men resembling Randy and Shawn. If she couldn’t lean on Watkins, she’d pay both another visit.
She jumped at a tap on her shoulder.
“You need some work on your detecting skills.”
Jonelle turned and faced a smirking Riley.
Before she could rip the woman a new one, the sound of a racing motor forced her to swallow the words bubbling up to a boil. Tires squealed as the silver SUV careened down the street, passed Jonelle, and headed in the opposite direction. Not only was Watkins in the driver’s seat, but Jonelle glimpsed someone in the passenger seat. Someone with long hair.
“Hurry,” Riley said. “Maybe you can catch her. But you ain’t leavin’ me standin’ here. I’m coming, too.”
“Hop in.”
Instead of following Watkins, Jonelle drove her Jeep to the front of the studio.
“What the hell’re you doin’?”
“Shut up. Something’s wrong.”
Jonelle eased up to the door and got out. The entrance door wasn’t completely closed. “Jasper? You in there? Anybody?”
No answer.
Vaguely aware that a camera somewhere watched her enter, and with Riley hovering close behind, Jonelle followed the short hallway around to the left. There, in front of her, racks of robes were strewn about; some trampled on.
Jonelle continued into the main studio. “Jasper?”
No reply.
Jonelle pulled the gun from her waistband.
A low whistle sounded behind her.
She ignored Riley and stepped into the studio, skirting a few overturned chairs.
“Office is back that way,” Riley said, attempting to go past Jonelle, who quickly stepped in her path.
“What’s your problem?” Riley asked.
“Be quiet,” Jonelle said.
A sense of unease gripped her. Too quiet. For the amount of time Watkins lingered inside Playcat, there should’ve been others around. Where were they?
Jonelle moved on. The prop room’s door stood open.
The smell of sweat, leather, and bodily fluids assaulted her nostrils. Her chest tightened when she registered the lack of windows in the cramped space.
“No place anybody can hide here,” Riley said. “I already checked.”
With a firm grip on her weapon, Jonelle walked over to the long closet on the back wall. She slid each door to the side and went through all the clothes. Nothing. “Gotta check the office,” she said.
“Finally realized I’m standin’ here, huh?”
Jonelle pressed her lips together and wondered how long it’d take for someone to find the body if she crammed Riley inside that closet.
Papers lay scattered everywhere inside the office, including the floor. The desk drawers and file cabinets stood open and in disarray. Yet no sign of anyone.
A small safe stood next to the wall. She pulled the handle but it didn’t open.
“Show me where you were when I saw you at the window,” Jonelle said.
“So I ain’t the invisible woman after all,” Riley huffed. Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed down the narrow corridor.
“This here’s a hidden room.” Riley placed her hand on the panel and frowned.
“What . . . ?”
“Shh! I hear something,” Riley whispered.
Jonelle motioned for Riley to move over.
She put her ear to the wall. Voices. Or, more precisely, one voice. She couldn’t make out any words. Jonelle didn’t bother motioning for Riley to stand aside. The dipshit woman would’ve ignored her anyway. The closeness of the hallway aggravated her claustrophobia and made the decision easier. She placed her hand against the panel and pushed.
Nothing happened.
Riley elbowed Jonelle aside, pulled out her knife, and inserted the blade in the seam and pulled.
Although her back was turned, Jonelle imagined a snide look on the woman’s face. Focus, Jonelle, she told herself.
The wall gave way and the two squeezed inside.
Jasper lay on his side facing them, a rag in his mouth and duct tape binding his legs and arms behind his back. His eyes, wide with fear, relaxed somewhat as Jonelle leaned over him.
She returned the gun to her holster. “Hold on,” she said, yanking the rag out of his mouth.
He gagged in protest.
“Oh shut up,” Riley said. She didn’t bother to help as Jonelle struggled to remove the tape from the man’s arms and legs.
“Ignore her,” Jonelle said, helping him sit up. “If we’re lucky, she’ll go away.”
Jasper rubbed his head. “Crazy woman knocked me over the head with that.” He motioned to a two by four on the floor nearby. “What the hell she do that for?”
“And how the hell would we know that, Sparky?” Riley asked, hands on hips.
“You. Be quiet. Not gonna repeat myself again. Stand over there,” Jonelle said, “and keep your mouth shut. You’ve almost used up the allotment of patience I’ve given you.”
After a few beats, Riley slumped over to the exit.
Jonelle returned her attention to the film maker, still massaging the back of his head.
“Before I call the cops, tell me what happened.”
“Nope. No cops.” He peered at her. “I don’t know you. How’d you get in here?”
“My name’s Jonelle Sweet. I’m a PI working for Tamora’s lawyer. I know she works here, and, well, I need to find out what might’ve happened to her daughter. This is as good a place as any to search.”
“Yeah, well. She turned on me quick. And after all I’ve done for her, making her a star and all. That’s freakin’ gratitude for you. Now I’ve gotta find me another model.” Pale eyes looked Jonelle up and down.
She ignored his obvious assessment. “Turned on you how? Tamora did this?”
He struggled to his feet and staggered past her. “Naw. Not her. That other one. Her so-called manager. Gotta get back to the office.”
“Somebody ransacked the place,” Jonelle warned.
“Figures. Bet Watkins did that. Worst day of my life was when I met that woman.” Jasper stumbled out of the room. Jonelle followed and Riley brought up the rear.
Jonelle entered the office.
He paced through the small space, touching everything as if not believing what his eyes told him. He turned toward the safe. “Thank, God they didn’t take anything,” he said.
Jonelle frowned, wondering why he didn’t check inside to make sure. “I don’t think she was after money. There’s something in this studio that means a lot to Watkins . . . and Tamora. You got any idea what that could be?”
Jasper sat in the creaky office chair and with elbows on the desk, put his head in his hands.
Jonelle waited, grateful that the only sound from Riley was her raspy breathing.
He shook himself and absentmindedly fingered several of the papers on his desk. While she waited for the director to come to grips with what happened, she picked up a handful of the pages, read a few words that meant nothing to her, and began stacking them in a neat pile.
“Hey, get a grip you two,” Riley demanded snapping her fingers loudly for emphasis. “Grow a pair already, Mister. And as for you—”
The look on Jonelle’s face stopped Riley from continuing. “I’m taking her home and then I’m coming back here,” Jonelle said to Jasper.
“What if I don’t wanna go back yet,” Riley said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Not asking for your opinion.” she swallowed the words, you freakin’ fool. Jonelle had never thought about anyone like that before.
“Woo-hoo. The black de-tec-tive is growin’ a spine.”
“She with you?” Jasper asked, his eyes covering first Jonelle, then Riley.
Riley walked over to the desk, picked up several sheets of paper, and began stuffing them into the pockets of a skirt that hadn’t seen detergent in a long time.
“Hey, cut that out. What the hell’s she doing? Stop it already.” Jasper reached over and grabbed for Riley’s hand.
She brandished the Swiss knife at him.
He backed off.
“Either put that away or give it to me.” Jonelle pulled out her gun.
Riley studied Jonelle before slowly putting the knife back in her other pocket.
“You pull that stunt again and everybody’s gonna know you as one-legged Riley.” Jonelle motioned for Riley to hand over the papers.
After a slight hesitation, Riley lobbed them in Jonelle’s direction, a lopsided smile plastered on her face as the sheets floated to the ground.
“Go ahead and shoot her,” Jasper said. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Tempting though that is, I don’t wanna risk losing my license.” She retrieved the papers and handed them to Jasper, who smoothed them out. “Tell you what. Since there’s surveillance around, you okay with letting the cops know that all I was interested in was Tamora? Not drugs, not—”
“Whoa. Surveillance? Drugs? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Riley piped up. “Cops come lookin’, they might find somethin’, but it ain’t gonna be weed.” She patted the skirt pocket that held the knife. “She’s mainly talkin’ about them times that little girl coulda been hidin’ out in that back room.”
CHAPTER 41
Although cool air spread through the office, sweat broke out on Jasper’s brow. “I . . . I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. There’re no kids anywhere in or around my studio. Don’t go there, no how, no way. I told Watkins we don’t touch kids. Never have, never will. This is a legitimate business dealing with adults only.” His eyes pleaded for Jonelle to understand.
“I think you better tell me all you know about Lorraine Watkins.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “She found out about my business through a mutual contact.”
“Shawn?”
After a slight hesitation, Jasper nodded.
“What’s your connection with him?”
“Came by one day. Said he was looking for part-time work, so I offered him work here.”
“You’ve gotta know where this place is to find it. You tellin’ me he showed up one day out of the blue?” Jonelle believed that story as much as she believed a rabbit could deliver chocolate eggs. Since Shawn wasn’t her immediate worry, she motioned for him to continue.
“After that, Watkins came over, introduced me to Tamora, and after a quick interview, I decided Tam had everything for success in this business—the looks, the attitude. No problems for about a year. Tamora proved so popular I actually started seeing monthly profits.
“Next thing. Watkins starts coming around more and more wanting me to let her use the studio to take pictures. Stills only, she said, and that she’d pay. Claimed it was all gonna be innocent. Said famous people in the past took so-called art pictures and that’s all she wanted to do. Art.” He grunted. “Yeah, right.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Told her no. Don’t want no part of that. Figured I was probably on the cops’ radar,”—he glanced at Riley—“on account of they’re prejudiced against someone like me trying to make an honest living. All I’m doing is giving the people what they want.”
“Save it, Sparky,” Riley yelled. A sideways look from Jonelle stopped her from saying more.
“Go on,” Jonelle said.
“Cops get wind of kids hanging around here, they’d be swarmin’ around this place faster than a bunch of flies landing on a pile of shit.”
“If she was okay with the ‘no kids’ rule, why’d she tie you up? Doesn’t look like she robbed you, so what message was she sending?”
He shrugged.
“C’mon Jasper. You’ve gotta start giving me something I can use. Think about an innocent little girl caught up in all this. If you have any information as to where Lark might be, I’ve gotta know. There might not be much time left.”
Several seconds passed. No one spoke while Jasper looked as if he was struggling with how much to reveal.
“Figured tyin’ me up was a warning. She said much worse would happen if I didn’t cooperate. Claimed she’d start spreading rumors about what was going on in the studio. Said the cops would investigate and close me down until they figured out the truth. The back room where you found me is the space she wants to use to take the stills. I can’t afford to lose this business,” he whined. “I got bills like everybody else. Hell. Now you’re telling me the cops are watchin’, anyway.”
Poor guy looked as if he was about to cry. Yet something was off about his performance. “We’ve got a problem here, Jasper. See, you’re not being totally honest with me. Part of me accepts the fact that tying you up was a warning, but I don’t believe it was an empty threat of what she might do if you didn’t let her use the studio. She’s got something on you.
“What I think is you did let her shoot pictures here. Or somebody else who works here did. Or maybe you helped her hide the child—or children—at least temporarily, and you wanted to squeeze her for more money. Am I getting close?”
He licked his lips. “Nope. No way did I do any of that.” The words tumbled out a little too quickly.
“Why is the room hidden with false walls and the windows blackened?”
The expression on his face hardened. He pressed his lips in a tight line.
“That area is pretty big and empty except for a few pallets, so obviously you’re not using it for storage. You tellin’ me you’re paying rent on space you’re not using?”
“Don’t want nosey people looking in,” he grumbled.
“What would they see if they did take a peek?”
He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair which screeched in protest.
For a brief moment Jonelle wanted Riley to open her big mouth, tick the man off so he’d yell something she could use. For once, the woman stayed quiet.
“So tell me, what actually happened? ’Cause I’m starting to wonder if you staged this whole thing.” The close quarters bothered her, so she paced around the cluttered office. “You guys probably got nervous when you saw Riley hanging around.” Jonelle ignored R
iley next to the door.
“Yeah. And I tied myself up. Try again.”
“I agree it’s possible Watkins tied you up. And I bet the cops would get an anonymous tip—from a female— on where to find you. Looking around at this mess and not finding the drugs they knew you had, they might believe your story that you’d been robbed.” She looked sideways at Riley. “I doubt all you had in here was a little weed. The cops wouldn’t bother with that. Did Watkins agree to remove the drugs in exchange for use of the studio? Was it the cleaning lady?”
Riley clapped her hands as if approving Jonelle’s deductions.
“All you’re doing is speculating. You can’t prove any of this,” he sneered.
“Don’t need to, Jasper, ’cause I don’t give a rat’s ass about you, nudie films, or drugs. All I care about is finding that child.”
Riley backed out the door.
“Where’re you going?” Jonelle asked.
“Gotta pee. Be right back.”
Jonelle picked up a few papers from the desk. Most contained the words “Production Schedule” written across the top. Below were lists of names followed by the word “Model” and notes about the kinds of scenes set for videoing. Based on the titles, they were all various takes on that old “Debbie Does Dallas” theme.
Jasper remained seated, watery eyes following her every move.
The man’s relaxed posture meant she wouldn’t find evidence of anything involving underage kids, yet she continued studying the sheets until she found something interesting. At the top of a yellow piece of paper was the word “Staff.” Her eyes went down the list. Most of the names were male, and in addition to Shawn, one other name stuck out—Jelani Hill. Next to his name the words “part-time.”
She tapped the sheet. “Jelani works for Watkins at the apartment complex where Lark was abducted. Coincidence?”
“As the saying goes, ‘it’s hard to find good help nowadays.’ Same thing applies in this business. I use a lot of people on a part-time basis.” Jasper sat up in the chair.
“Says here he’s a part-time photographer. Does he take stills or shoot video?”
“Whatever’s needed.” He stood. “I’m getting tired of all these questions. You ain’t a cop, so I want you outta here.”
Five Minutes Page 21
