The Trickster (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 3)

by R. Lanier Clemons

  “In addition to telling me her name, he also said you and Susanna were close. How close would that be?” Luther had pieces of chicken and potatoes and gravy dribbling out the sides of his mouth. Jonelle handed him several napkins.

  He swiped the napkins from her hands and rubbed vigorously at his mouth. Luther stared at the people going in and out of the restaurant. It was several seconds before he replied. “I noticed her wanderin’ around downtown ‘bout three, four months ago,” he said, not meeting Jonelle’s eyes. “It’s a hard life out on the streets. ‘Specially for a woman. Oh, the nut cases do all right. People tend to stay away from them. But Suze was different. I could tell.” He stopped, picked up a thigh and took several bites.

  Jonelle held her patience in check.

  After swallowing another mouthful, he sighed and let out a huge burp that seemed to originate from the bottom of his feet all the way up to his mouth. He grinned at the look on Jonelle’s face. “That feels better,” he said.

  “Susanna?” she prompted, trying not to sound as disgusted as she felt.

  “Yeah. Well the firs’ day I noticed right away she didn’t belong out here. She was too clean. Too neat. She looked real nervous, but not crazy nervous, just scared nervous. Know what I mean?”

  Jonelle wasn’t sure she did, but nodded anyway.

  “So, second day I see her in the same place. She had the same clothes on, but this time she struggled with a couple large shoppin’ bags. One ‘a the ole timers started circlin’ her like a shark circlin’ a baby seal, so I kept my eye on ‘em both. Sure enough, the ole fart starts to grab one ‘a her bags so I yelled an’ ran forward an’ pushed him away. He balled his hands in a fist ‘til he saw who it was an’ backed down. Stupid ole’ fool.” Luther looked down at the chicken.

  “There’s plenty left. I’ll package it all up for you,” Jonelle said. “Go on with the story.”

  “I asked her if she was okay an’ she says yes. Tole her she gotta be careful. Then I sat next to her and started tellin’ her the right way she gotta handle herself if she’s gonna survive out here.” Luther’s voice broke. Jonelle waited for him to finish.

  “Guess I didn’t do so good, huh?” Tears welled in Luther’s eyes.

  Jonelle patted his arm. “You did the best you could.” The smell of deep fat fried meat weighed heavy in Jonelle’s nostrils, but she waited quietly while Luther composed himself.

  He took a deep breath. “I figured the safest place for her would be the warehouse. That’s our patch. Strangers know to stay out. Took us a while but we got our own community.” Luther paused again.

  “How did the others take to her?” Jonelle asked.

  “They didn’t like it at firs’. But she stayed to herself and didn’t cause no trouble, so after ‘bout two weeks, she became one ‘a us.”

  Jonelle thought of Burt and what he might want to know. “Did she ever say how she ended up on the street?”

  Luther shook his head. “Naw. We don’t ask stuff like that. If somebody wants to say, they’ll say in good enough time. She never did.”

  A different line of questioning occurred to Jonelle. “So, Mister Dukes, what about her last name?” Luther turned and glared at her with such intensity that Jonelle was afraid he was about to bolt. After a few beats he looked up at the sky. “Quinley,” he said to the clouds.

  For a moment, Jonelle felt like jumping up and down. She had a name to give to the police. One of her mother’s old sayings came to mind: now we’re cooking with gas.

  “Was she from around here?”

  Luther scowled at Jonelle.

  “Okay. I get you don’t ask a lot of questions. Law of the street and all that. But I bet you got some sense of where she was from. Just through everyday conversations. Could you pick up an accent? Virginia maybe. Southern Maryland or DC? Anything?”

  He pulled the straw out of his cup and chewed on it. “Can’t say I picked up on an accent, but I got the feelin’ she was from someplace else. Someplace kinda far up north.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “’Cause she kept complainin’ ‘bout the heat. How she couldn’t believe how much she kept sweatin’ day and night. Then she said somethin’ like, ‘at least where I’m from it doesn’t get this hot, an’ we don’t have this damn humidity.’ Stuff like that.”

  As she was about to ask another question, Luther stood. “I’m gettin’ tired. I can find me a way back from here if you don’t wanna go out of your way.”

  A quick glance at the hard set to his mouth and the fierce glow in his eyes told Jonelle Luther had said all he was going to for now. Luther grabbed the bag with the food and they both walked over to her Jeep.

  Once inside the vehicle, Jonelle turned to face him. “Thanks for all your help, Luther. I mean it. I have some good information to give to detective Burton.”

  Luther grunted in reply.

  Before Jonelle backed out of the parking space, she looked around and tried to get her bearings.

  “At the street turn left, go down five lights, then make a right,” Luther said.

  Jonelle followed his instructions. As she drove on, the area started looking familiar. She knew where she was.

  “Do you want me to take you all the way over to the side?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She pulled up to the curb and left the engine running. Luther stayed where he was.

  “Would you like some help with your things? I could carry the duffle while you handle the food.”

  He shook his head and slowly climbed out. With one hand he grabbed the duffle and slipped the strap over his shoulder. The other hand grabbed the food and his paper bag. He started to go, then turned back around. “Thanks for puttin’ up with an ole fool,” he said.

  “You’re not a fool and I’m not through helping you. Got that?”

  Luther smiled. Jonelle watched him limp to the opening in the fence. He stopped and turned to look at her. She waved. He shuffled back to the Jeep.

  “I think I best tell you this part, too,” he said, bending down and gazing at her through the passenger side window.

  Jonelle nodded encouragement.

  “Suze had a secret. A big secret. She only got a chance to tell me part of it, ‘cause …” He shrugged.

  Jonelle’s heart skipped a beat. “What kind of secret?”

  “Money,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “She said she had a shit load of money and needed my help hidin’ it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The day after Luther’s release, Jonelle met with detective Thelonius Burton in his office at the Violent Crimes unit of the Criminal Investigations division. She sat in his cubicle, her chair positioned next to his desk, and sipped coffee from the Styrofoam cup he’d given her. She winced as the hot, bitter liquid hit her tongue. The brew was long past fresh and smelled as bad as it tasted. Voices from the other detectives echoed through the office—some angry, some pleading, all loud.

  Jonelle set the cup down and picked up the Bugs Bunny figurine that sat against the fabric wall which separated Burt’s space from the detective on the other side. She fiddled with the statuette while he two-finger typed the information she’d shared about the murdered woman in his so-called Murder Book. Though not technically a book but a computer file, it still carried that name as a source for all the information on every open case that involved a suspicious death.

  His typing style took twice as long as it would have taken her to log in the facts about Susanna. In words drawn out to match his typing, Jonelle told Burt how Luther met the woman called Susanna Quinley and why he thought she wasn’t local.

  “Pretty good catch of his. Picking up on a little thing like her commenting about the weather,” Burt said, a huge smile on his dark, round face. “You’ve saved me some time here and I appreciate it.”

  She returned his smile. From the moment she first met him two years ago, Burt’s openness with her had always been a plus whenever she needed his help. She put Bu
gs down and pointed to the tie around Burt’s neck. “I like that one,” she said.

  “This old thing?” Burt fingered his baby blue tie with Homer, Bart, Lisa and Marge prominently displayed. In her opinion, Burt’s unusual taste in neckwear added to his overall charm. She also liked how his gentle demeanor disarmed most people. Those who didn’t know him often made the mistake that since Burt was so easygoing, he might not be the sharpest investigator on the force. They were soon proven wrong. He often said listening was sixty percent of a detective’s job. The rest was observation. As his eyes bored into hers, Jonelle’s hand reached up and played with her necklace.

  “What else you got for me?” he asked. The smile never left his lips.

  “Listen,” Jonelle said, leaning in and carefully measuring her words. She needed Burt on her side if she was going to help Luther. “For over a year, I thought Luther’s last name was St. Vincent. Yesterday I found out his last name is Dukes, and not only that, he had ID on him all this time. It’s hard to get Luther to open up. I don’t mean to brag, but I think I can get him to tell me more about the victim than you can. It’s just gonna take some time.”

  Burt reached over and put his hand on top of Jonelle’s. “You have to promise to find out what you can from Luther, and Luther only. Don’t go around town asking questions about the victim. Someone may hear about it and it could get back to the perp.”

  Jonelle waited a few beats before gently removing her hand from under his. “I’m a licensed private investigator, Burt.” He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could she added, “And I bet I can shoot better than most people on this police force. Plus, look at me. I’m not what you’d call a delicate flower. I can handle myself.”

  Something flickered in Burt’s eyes. “I know you can,” he said, looking down at notes scattered across his desk. He scanned a piece of paper. Jonelle tried to read the note upside down, but couldn’t.

  “What this says,” Burt said, picking it up and holding the note in one hand, “is what was on the piece of paper pinned to her clothes. The only reason I’m showing this to you is that we can’t make head nor tails of what it means. Maybe you can. I doubt Luther knows, but if you want to show it to him …” Burt shrugged.

  Jonelle took the paper. “WH V M 285696? What’s that mean?”

  “Damn if I know. Safety deposit box number? Bank account? Bus locker? Ask your, uh, contacts. See if someone knows.”

  “What about the condition of the body?”

  Burt’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

  “Don’t play coy. That area is known for drugs and prostitution. Was she sexually assaulted?”

  “She was found with her dress pulled up around her waist and her underwear pulled down, but there was no evidence she was raped. Why?”

  “Curious is all.” Jonelle made a note in her phone and photographed the image of the paper with the code for good measure. Afterwards, she cleared her throat and stood. Burt started up from his seat, but she motioned him back down. “I can let myself out. If I find out anything more about Susanna, I’ll let you know.” She started to leave but remembered something and turned back around. “Oh, and does it go without saying that you’d do the same?”

  Burt covered his mouth with his hand. “Do the same about what?”

  “We’ve agreed to share what we uncover, right? Don’t play dumb. I’m interested in whatever you find out about Susanna. I’d like to keep Luther up to date about the case.”

  Burt’s grin widened. He fumbled with some papers on his desk.

  Jonelle waited. “Well?”

  “Last I heard, he already had a lawyer. And that lawyer’s job is to keep his client informed,” Burt said, the grin still plastered on his face.

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Luther is also my client.” She raised an eyebrow. “See you later.” With that, she left his cubicle and didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 7

  The end of the week meant a Shorter Investigative Services staff meeting. Jonelle dreaded today’s conference, feeling that she had little to contribute. In addition to helping Luther for free, which was bound to raise snickers from Omar and Ben, the only other cases she had were watching a nurse’s teenage daughter and following an irate wife’s husband on the weekends. Jonelle sat in her office and struggled with how to make the assignments interesting enough so the other two agents wouldn’t make her the brunt of their jokes.

  After several attempts at trying to make a little something out of a lot of nothing, Jonelle gathered notebook and pencil and walked up to the open door of the conference room. She stopped short before going all the way in, shocked to see Ben sitting there. Usually Marvin and Rainey arrived first, then Jonelle wandered in followed by Omar, with Ben last. His presence at the end of the table closest to the donuts and coffee threw off her timing.

  “Did I miss something? Did you start early?” she asked looking over at Marvin.

  Rainey pointed to Ben. “See? I told you, you were messing with the normal order of the universe. You gotta give us a heads-up if you’re gonna start acting like a regular, respectable employee.”

  “Who’s respectable?” Omar stood in the conference room’s doorway next to Jonelle. “Hey! What’s he doing here?” Omar looked at Jonelle. “Are we late?”

  Jonelle shook her head. “Apparently the earth burped and this is what happened.”

  “Oh, hardy har har,” Ben said amidst laughter from the others. He scowled at his plain donut and black coffee.

  Jonelle grabbed a glazed, poured coffee and milk in her mug and sat down beside Rainey.

  Everyone waited until Omar had poured hot water over a tea bag and took the other seat next to Marvin.

  “Okay, Rainey,” Marvin said. “You go first. Then I’d like status reports from Omar, Ben and Jonelle. In that order.”

  In a clear voice, Rainey provided the staff with the number of current open cases and how many were closed the past week. Much to Jonelle’s chagrin, Rainey mentioned the agency was taking on a client’s case for no fee.

  “For free?” Ben asked. “Since when do we do charity cases?” He stared at Jonelle who looked away, somewhat embarrassed that he knew it was one of hers.

  Before Jonelle could respond, Marvin answered. “It’s not cases, it’s only one case. And it has special circumstances. Jonelle is helping someone who assisted her last year, and she’ll be working with the police.” He moved his gaze away from Ben and looked over at this niece. “The police are in charge. Right, Jonelle?”

  “I’ll tell you more when it’s my turn.”

  Omar reported the status of each of his cases in his usual no frills manner. When he paused, Jonelle assumed he’d finished and glanced at Ben. Omar coughed into his hand and raised both eyebrows at Marvin, who nodded his assent. He then told the group he was working on a “top secret” case for “a world renowned bank” and that sadly, he couldn’t go into details with the group.

  Ben snorted his opinion after Omar had finished. Based on the smug expression on Omar’s face, Jonelle could tell her co-worker wasn’t too unhappy about keeping his assignment close to his chest.

  When it was his turn, Ben reported on the result of his two government background checks. “Both looked good to me, although I recommended that the security clearance on one shouldn’t go any higher than what they were offering now. I didn’t find anything suspicious, but my gut told me this one guy might talk a little too much. If you know what I mean.” Afterwards, when he complained about being forced to start a diet by his latest wife, Marvin cut him off mid tirade.

  “Enough, Ben. Sorry, but you’ve got to try and keep your personal life out of the staff meetings. Okay? Come see me later if you want.”

  Ben grumbled a reply, took a bite of donut and sat back. He crossed his arms and positioned them over his protruding belly.

  Everyone looked at Jonelle. She took a deep breath. “My first surveillance case started last Wednesday night. Basically, a single mother by the
name of Polly Cole works as a nurse overnight. She wants us, me that is, to keep tabs on her house to make sure her teenage daughter doesn’t leave and doesn’t let anyone in. The young woman has sneaked out of the house in the past, and also let boys inside against her mother’s wishes.”

  Ben snickered. Jonelle shot him a look and continued.

  “Anyway, I have permission from the mom to call the police if I need to. So far, there haven’t been any problems. I don’t start my other surveillance job ‘til tomorrow night. In this case the wife,”—Jonelle looked down at her notes—“her name’s Becky Henshaw, thinks her husband is cheating on her. He tells her he’s going out in the evenings to visit friends. I asked her about these friends of his and she stated that she’d contacted a few of them and they back up her husband’s story.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” Omar asked. “Sounds straightforward to me. But, I guess if she wants to pay for her being jealous,”—he shrugged—“so be it.”

  Jonelle nodded. “I agree. But I also think there may be more to this. Anyway, I’ll soon find out.” She hesitated and looked down at her almost empty notepad.

  “About the case I’m handling for no fee.” She tapped her pencil on the paper. “The man’s name is Luther Dukes and the police think he’s a person of interest in the murder of a woman found knifed to death next to a Dumpster.”

  Ben whistled softly. “Why do the cops think he’s involved?”

  “Because he knew the victim and he was discovered next to her body. At the time, they didn’t know who she was because she had no identification and he was too distraught to tell them anything.”

  Omar clicked the top of his ballpoint several times as he glanced first at Marvin and then Jonelle. “The guy’s in jail, right? We can’t do anything about that. Especially for free.”

  “One of our law clients agreed to take Luther’s case pro bono and has already secured his release.”