Devilish Details

by Emery, Lynn

  “No thanks. Phillips represented that white socialite who shot her ex-husband in the shower. Then she drove to New Orleans for a cocktail party. Turned out she didn’t take talk of divorce kindly. Next, he represented the man who set fire to his gay lover’s house. The lover was asleep inside with another younger man.” Willa snorted. “That’s not the half of it. So I’m pretty sure his secretary is shock proof.”

  “Damn,” Jazz whispered. Jazz took a sip of coffee and was rewarded with rich flavor.

  Phillips strode in. He put down the folder he carried and shook hands with them . “Good morning, Ms. Vaughn, Mrs. Crown. I see Leslie has coffee available. Excellent.”

  “Colombian blend. Very nice,” Jazz said with a nod.

  “Glad you like it. Let’s get down to it ladies. I have excellent news. Our pretrial motions have gone well. The judge ruled that the prosecution can’t bring up Filipe Perez or the murder investigation of your late husband, Mrs. Crown.”

  “My late ex-husband,” Willa corrected him.

  “Right. Unfortunately, they can introduce evidence of your past conflicts with the victim.” Phillips gazed at Jazz expectantly.

  “My motive. Except I got the club, so why would I need to kill Kyeisha? That doesn’t make sense.” Jazz frowned at him.

  “Yeah, and juries want the motive to make sense. You had nothing to gain by killing her. Ms. Lathers remained loyal to Lorraine Taylor. Both were furious you ended up with the property on McClelland too. But, they have a back-up theory of the crime.” Phillips wore a serious expression.

  “Which is?”

  “She had knowledge that could cause you trouble. The assistant DA hasn’t fleshed out the theory yet. They’re still digging. What I need from you is anything from your past they can use against us.” Phillips folded his hands, a platinum wedding band glistened in the light. “This isn’t the time to be embarrassed or secretive.”

  Jazz looked at Willa. Her sister cleared her throat. “I wasn’t involved in any kind of crimes if that’s what you’re asking. I wouldn’t have trusted Kyeisha if I had been. She has, had, a big mouth. Plus, I knew she was tight with Lorraine.”

  Phillips turned his razor sharp attention to Willa. Clearly, like any good attorney, he read body language very well. “Mrs. Crown, you’d like to add something?”

  “Well there’s…”

  Jazz cut her off. “Lorraine used to let shady stuff go on at the bar when she had it. Maybe Kyeisha assumed I kept it going.”

  “I see.” Phillips continued to study Willa.

  “We should tell him about the money,” Willa said.

  “Don’t get stupid,” Jazz hissed under her breath.

  “I’m not going into a case with one hand tied behind my back. Make up your mind, ladies. Tell me everything or find another lawyer.” Phillips relaxed in his chair as if to say he was fine either way.

  “There’s talk on the street that Filipe has hidden money,” Willa said. She glanced at Jazz.

  Jazz sighed. “Shit. It could be money, drugs, guns, or all three. Some think I know Filipe’s secrets.”

  “But there’s also chatter that Jazz may have stolen his property,” Willa added. She squinted at Jazz. “Don’t give me that look. Sounds to me like the DA’s investigators or the police have heard something.”

  “Mrs. Crown is on target. Did Kyeisha Lathers threaten you, Ms. Vaughn?” Phillips pulled a legal note pad to him and started writing.

  “She pretended to know more than she did. I could tell she was fishing the first night she came to see me. I told her I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, which is the truth. Not that anybody seems to care. My guess? Cleavon sent her. He thought they could scare the information out of me,” Jazz said.

  “Cleavon…” Phillips glanced up at her.

  “Bennett, her latest boyfriend. He was a murder suspect himself until recently. The next time Kyeisha showed up was that night at the club. She was begging me to help her, which is crazy. We weren’t buddies for sure. Somebody did a number on her, and she was trying to get away.”

  “Does Cleavon Bennett have gang connections?” Phillips looked from Jazz to Willa.

  “That’s like asking if Louisiana has mosquitoes. He’s a thug from way back,” Willa said.

  “A family tradition. His daddy, uncles, brothers, cousins, you name it,” Jazz added.

  Phillips tapped the pen on the tablet. “So he could have some connection to Filipe Perez.”

  “We’re checking right now,” Willa put in before Jazz could reply.

  “Give me everything you find. We need to build at least one credible alternative theory. Fortunately with Bennett’s and Ms. Lather’s histories, we’ve got something to work with.”

  “Cedric, my chief of operations, will be in touch soon,” Willa replied. She looked at Jazz. “I never thought having shady friends would be an asset one day.”

  “See? All those lectures for nothin’,” Jazz shot back.

  “Now to another subject. Godfrey Higgins called me last night. Is firing him relate to your case?” Phillips raised an eyebrow at Jazz.

  “Not unless your buddy wants you to either ditch me or throw me to the dogs.” Jazz stared at him steadily.

  “Godfrey Higgins and I aren’t ‘buddies’. We’ve networked at local social functions. He’s referred several cases to me over the past four years or so.”

  Jazz’s eyes narrowed. “What did he want then?”

  “He wanted me to talk you into reconsidering terminating his services. I told him that was not my concern. Your business with him will not affect how I represent you. I handle my cases as I see fit, for the good of my clients,” Phillips said firmly.

  Jazz exchanged a brief glance with her sister. She nodded. “Okay, let’s keep goin’ then.”

  They discussed details about possible defense strategies and a trial date. Thirty minutes later, Jazz and Willa were driving away. The Bluetooth connection in Willa’s SUV buzzed. The caller ID on the dashboard flashed Cedric’s name. She hit the button to talk hands free.

  “Hi, babe. What’s up?” Willa said.

  “I’ve found some interesting information. Meet me at the office,” Cedric replied.

  “I’ll be there in about forty minutes or so. I have to drop Jazz off first,” Willa said.

  “Okay, bye.” His name vanished when Cedric ended the call.

  “No, you’ll be there a lot sooner. I’m not getting out of this car. Save yourself time and aggravation. Keep driving.” Jazz pressed against the leather seat to emphasize her determination.

  “If somebody hadn’t already done it, I’d beat your behind right now,” Willa mumbled. She drove south to her office instead of to north Baton Rouge where Jazz lived.

  *

  Jazz wondered if they’d get a ticket or at least be pulled over. Willa drove through yellow traffic signals and exceeded the speed limit. She’d honked at least four times at silly drivers observing traffic laws. Jazz glanced at her, but said nothing. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at Willa’s building. They went straight to the conference room of her office suite. Cedric was already there with a mug of coffee and his android tablet. Ten minutes into his summary, Willa blinked hard at him.

  “Let me get this straight, Lorraine’s son in Angola has ties to Filipe?”

  “At some point, most of the local thugs did business with Filipe,” Cedric said with a shrug. “So it’s logical to conclude they knew each other.”

  “Filipe hung out at Candy Girls. It’s where we met, remember,” Jazz said. She drummed her tapered fingernails on the table’s smooth wooden surface.

  “Yeah, but all kinds of gangsters and crooks hung out there. I still don’t get the connection.” Willa frowned in concentration.

  “Cleavon grew up with Lorraine’s kids. He even use to date her daughter,” Cedric said.

  “Even I didn’t know that much. Of course, I’ve been too busy staying alive to investigate,” Jazz joked. “Good work.�
�

  “Hey, it’s what I do. Your friend the bartender at Grown Folks gave me the best lead. I talked to this girl who was friends with Lorraine’s daughter in high school. Next best thing since I couldn’t find the daughter,” Cedric said with a frown. “Netta lost track of her.”

  “She went to nursing school in Houston. Never came back. She married a fellow student and they moved to San Antonio,” Jazz said. “Lorraine and her youngest son used to talk trash about her. Said she got educated and uppity.”

  “Or maybe she wanted a different kind of life,” Willa replied.

  “I used to agree with her. I thought it was terrible she just dumped her family that way.” Jazz shrugged when Willa glanced at her. “What?”

  “Sometimes you have to cut ties to save your own life, Jazz.” Willa looked at her hard.

  Jazz knew Willa wasn’t talking about Lorraine or her daughter. They’d had this argument about their own mother. Jazz clung to her despite all Vivienne had put them through. “Hell, she could at least call on holidays.”

  “Yeah, and when you keep in touch, they want something. But do they ever show any kind of concern for you? No. It’s all about them, what they need or want.” Willa balled both hands into fists.

  Cedric reached over to cover them with one of his large hands. “Have some coffee.”

  “Right. This isn’t about my mama issues,” Willa said softly.

  “So this friend remembers Cleavon and Lorraine’s sons were buddies,” Jazz put in to take them back to the subject.

  “They were kids in the old neighborhood together. Zion City is still a rough place,” Cedric continued. “As teenagers they got in trouble together. This friend didn’t know much else. She went to community college and got out like Lorraine’s daughter.”

  “Cleavon hung around the club. Lorraine used to let her boys drink before they were legal. Yeah, model parent,” Jazz said when Willa grimaced. They all fell silent. “Okay, try on this theory. Baton Rouge has these neighborhood gangs, disorganized. Then Filipe comes to town.”

  “Filipe is from California by way of Mexico, right? He knows about running a gang with structure. He’s the man with the plan. But he’s always smart. He doesn’t go to war with the locals. He shows them how to make more money.” Cedric nodded. “Naturally there’s still some resentment that simmers.”

  “Filipe goes to prison. Lorraine’s oldest two end up in prison, the youngest dead. Cleavon decides he can make his move to become the next kingpin?” Jazz barked scornful laugher. “He doesn’t have the brains. But then, neither did Lorraine’s sons. Or I read them wrong.”

  “They could have had more power in Filipe’s hierarchy than you realized. Think back. Did Filipe have many meetings at Candy Girls?” Cedric asked.

  “Nah, it was mostly pleasure not business.” Jazz winked at them.

  “No details. Please,” Willa said and rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Jazz wisecracked. Then she grew serious. “Filipe’s closest boys were Latino, two of his cousins. Their meetings weren’t at Candy Girls. He may have let one of Lorraine’s boys think they were important. That sounds like Filipe. He’s always ten steps ahead of anyone else.”

  “Lorraine’s sons figure out they’re small fry in the big picture?” Cedric rubbed his chin in thought.

  “Here’s another question.” Willa sat forward, both elbows on the table. “Is it a coincidence that one son wound up dead and the other in prison?”

  “You mean they might have started showing signs of taking on Filipe. Is it a coincidence Filipe ended up in prison?” Jazz looked from Willa to Cedric.

  “Damn, that’s going deep.” Cedric fell back in his chair.

  Willa glanced over her shoulder even though the door was closed. “But you nudged him into that position, right? I mean when we were trying to figure out who killed Jack a couple of years ago.”

  “All I did was place some nuggets out there for Don and Miller to follow-up on. I told them enough to get him picked up. I figured two days tops he’d be in. He always carried a gun,” Jazz said.

  “He’s a felon in possession of a weapon,” Cedric put in.

  “But then some dude rolled on him. The police got onto one or two of his business ventures.” Jazz looked at them. “I told Miller the truth when he questioned me. I never knew or wanted to know details of Filipe’s operation.”

  “You’re saying Cleavon or maybe Lorraine’s sons seized an opportunity? That might explain some things,” Cedric said.

  “But one son is dead. The other one is locked up for a long time. Why do any of them care about Jazz?” Willa frowned.

  “A criminal enterprise is like any business. If Cleavon wants to take over, he could use assets to establish his own operation. Most street crooks are small time, but he has bigger ambitions. And that’s where you come in,” Cedric said to Jazz.

  “Cleavon thinks I know where Filipe has a stash of valuables. What a dumbass,” Jazz retorted. She massaged the back of her neck. “I’m getting a damn headache thinking about these muthas.”

  “I told you to let me take you home. Okay, enough theories for one day.” Willa stood. She raised a palm when Jazz opened her mouth. “Yes, I’ll take you to your place. I got the message that you can’t stand being around us for too long.”

  Jazz stood slowly.“The guilt trip won’t work, so stuff it.”Not that her sister listened. The price of a free ride courtesy was another lecture. Jazz didn’t get pissed off though. She recognized the nervous energy beneath her sister’s nagging. When Willa pulled up the short driveway leading to Jazz’s apartment, she sighed.

  “Try not to get punched, shot at, or accused of another murder until I see you again,” Willa said.

  “You never let me have any fun, mom.” Jazz stuck her lip out in an exaggerated pout. She laughed when hissed a cuss word. “Hey, I’m gonna be okay. Byron will take over smothering me the minute you drive off.”

  “I already talked to him,” Willa replied with a satisfied sniff.

  As though he’d heard his name, Byron came out to the car. He and Tyretta helped Jazz climb the stairs to her apartment. Her fridge had food. A comfy fluffy robe and slippers were waiting for her.

  “You guys are the best,” Jazz said with a satisfied yawn. She went to her bedroom, changed and lay on the sofa.

  “Me and Rochelle got some of your favorites. Nothing heavy,” Byron said when Jazz started to speak. “Chyna whipped up some Chinese dishes. Rochelle made a big meatloaf. What you don’t eat I will. Now all you gotta do is watch the movies I got set up for you. Lots of action adventure stuff you’re gonna enjoy.”

  “Deal.” Jazz rested her head. “Y’all don’t have to hover. Go on back downstairs to the club. I’m good.”

  “Yeah. So what happened? I bet the cops picked up Lorraine. Those must have been her thugs.” Tyretta chattered at high speed with more questions. She helped herself to a bowl of nuts. When she reached for the glass of iced tea Byron had set on the table, he scowled at her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Byron rumbled.

  “The salt in these cashews made me thirsty.” Tyretta hissed at him through her teeth.

  “You can have it. I’ll get another,” Jazz replied. She got up and went to the kitchen. She found a bottle of spring water. “Y’all sure taking care of me.”

  Jazz turned around. Byron stood looking at Tyretta. He wore a deceptively blank expression on his face. Tyretta continued a steady stream of commentary. Jazz honed reading people. Decoding body language had become a survival tool. At that moment, Byron radiated dislike for Tyretta.

  “Go down and help out Rochelle, Tyretta,” Jazz said.

  “She doin’ fine. Chyna is helping her.” Tyretta stuffed another handful of cashews in her mouth.

  Byron kept his tone casual as he turned away. He pressed buttons on Jazz’s remote. “We got our usual good Thursday crowd again. The city closed down The Sweet Spot. Guess that’s why. Anyway, she could use t
he help.”

  “I’m on a break. Got to catch up with my girl,” Tyretta said, still chewing. “You’re the big time second in command. You go help.”

  “You started breaking almost an hour ago. Sitting at the bar on your cell phone,” Byron tossed over his shoulder.

  “S’cuse me, she’s my pal from way, way back. You been around for nothin’ but a minute. Hell, I should be the assistant manager any damn way,” Tyretta mumbled, but not so Jazz didn’t hear her. When Jazz came around the sofa again, Tyretta had a friendly smile plastered on her face.

  “He’s right, Tyretta. Happy customers come back and spend more money. We sure as hell need the business,” Jazz said mildly. She gave Tyretta a friendly tap on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later. Promise.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving cause you asked me.” Tyretta tossed a glare at Byron. When he seemed not to notice, she left in a huff.

  Byron put the remote on the sofa. “I got you lined up with some good on-demand stuff for the next four hours. But the TV will be watching you. Bet you’re worn out.”

  Jazz settled against the sofa cushions. She pulled a soft throw around her but didn’t touch the remote. “Thanks. You wanna tell me what’s up with you and Tyretta?”

  “You know how she’s always mouthin’ off. Plus she’s always lookin’ to get outta work,” Byron replied with a frown on his dark brown face.

  “I know she can be a pain, but Tyretta stuck by me. She’s one of the few that did after I got Candy Girls.” Jazz eyed him. “Well?”

  “I mean she’s your good friend and all.” Byron cleared his throat.

  “Byron, I’m not gonna jump you for talkin’ real about Tyretta. Like you said, I’ve known her a long time. I know what she can be like.” Jazz grinned at him. “Tell it all.”

  “I don’t know.” Byron rubbed his jaw. “Now don’t get mad. It’s more than her mouth.”

  Jazz’s gut instinct kicked in. She put down the bottle of spring water and sat at attention. “Meaning what?”