by Emery, Lynn
“A couple of times she left the back door open. She had volunteered to lock up, right? She played it off, but her excuse didn’t sound real. One of those times is when somebody tried to break in. Maybe the other time, too. I don’t remember because I wasn’t thinkin’ about it then.”
“Could be a coincidence,” Jazz’s gut nudged her as if to say “Don’t be stupid!”
“It’s like she’s watchin’ and waitin’ for something.” Byron scratched his thick dark curls. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m paranoid because of all the crap goin’ down lately.”
Jazz mentally shook free of his line of reasoning. Tyretta and she had been friends a long, long time. Their friendship had been tested by the split with Lorraine and her crew. “Tyretta isn’t all that steady a worker on a good day. I’m thinking the stress is making her more of a pain. Maybe she’s on guard for the same reason you are, Byron. She’ll back down if you don’t let her get away with shit.”
“Yeah, you right. My damn nerves on edge. I sure as hell hope we get clear of all this drama soon.” Byron put both hands on his waist.
“And make some money, if we can keep the thieves from stealing us dry,” Jazz retorted. She relaxed again. “I keep asking myself, what are they looking for in here?”
“Lorraine’s got to be behind it boss. It’s all too neat that she’s after us and we got breakins.” Byron blew out a breath and sat down to help her theorize.
“The street knows business was slow. I don’t see her thinking her boys would take a big haul.” Jazz sipped water absently.
“We got some nice sound equipment in here they could pawn. Then there’s the liquor. Hell, she’d do anything to pay you back for owning what used to be hers.” Byron grabbed a handful of nuts and munched. He turned on the television, but kept the volume low.
“Lorraine has been making big time moves against me. A murder set up, and getting the city to come after Candy Girls. Hiring crack heads to break in is penny ante shit for her now.” Jazz started to sip from the bottle again, but paused to consider what she’d just said.
Byron glanced at her. “What you thinkin’?”
“Lorraine isn’t acting like Lorraine,” Jazz said softly.
“Huh?”
“The old Lorraine would have shown up here and called me out for a street fight. For real.” Jazz sat up again. “I was wrong about her losing these properties because she was dumb. Lorraine had a plan. She’s different now.”
“Humph, I’m surprised she hasn’t set the place on fire,” Byron said with a grunt before throwing more nuts into his mouth.
“No way. Lorraine doesn’t want the buildings burned down. Somebody tried to break in my house, and then tried to break in the club.”
“Fools,” Byron grumbled around chews.
“She wants, no she’s desperate, to get at something around here somewhere. First, the health inspectors. That didn’t work, she called the city on me. But that’s gonna take too long. Next I get set up for killing Kyeisha. She’s turning up the heat hoping I’ll get out of this damn kitchen. That’s gotta be it.” Jazz stood up fast and started pacing. For the first time Jazz saw her way clear to a theory that made sense.
“Hey, hey, you better watch yourself. You ain’t long out the hospital.” Byron frowned at her with concern.
She winced at the pains from her bruises. The facts sank into mud, buried again. When she eased back onto the sofa, Byron sighed with relief. Lightheaded, Jazz pressed the still cold bottle of spring water to her throat. When he tried to her to eat something, Jazz waved him away.
“No food.” She swallowed hard against the queasy feeling in her stomach.
“You lie down and stop thinking. I got your favorite video game set up if you get bored with the movies.” Byron pointed to the wireless controller.
“Lorraine wants something in the club or here. You said that woman was searching my file cabinets,” Jazz said faintly. She leaned her head against the sofa back.
“Lorraine’s boy might think you have Filipe’s stash.” Byron clumped to the kitchen, his heavy black athletic shoes defying even her soft carpeting. He came back with a bottle of beer. “And none of this for you.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask,” Jazz replied. “Anyway, Filipe wouldn’t have left anything with me. He’s old school when it comes to letting women in his business. If his old gang thought he had, they’d have taken this place apart by now.”
“Lorraine didn’t know him like that. Lots of folks still talk about how y’all was so tight for a minute.” Byron shrugged when Jazz squinted at him. “I’m just telling you the street gossip. Tyretta runnin’ her mouth as much as anybody.”
Jazz grimaced. “Maybe, but it sounds weak.”
“Maybe Lorraine left something of value that belongs to her. It’s something she don’t want you to know is here,” Byron tossed out with a wave of the beer bottle. Then he focused on the television again. One of his favorite Anime television series episodes had come on.
“She left a bunch of junk behind.” Jazz slapped the sofa in frustration. “Damn it. I shouldn’t have thrown away all her stuff. It’s at the bottom of the landfill.”
The furniture in the club and surplus crammed into the building that became Jazz’s home was old. Most of it was either rickety or outright broken. Mounds of sloppily kept paperwork had been scattered around as well. Jazz not only didn’t want was left behind, she didn’t need reminders of a seedy past. The neighborhood was changing, and Jazz was ready to change with it.
Jazz’s eyes drifted shut. The dull aches from her bruising came back. Even the effort to get her pain medication seemed too much, yet fatigue pulled at her more. She would rest for a moment and then get up.
“I didn’t throw it all away,” Byron said. He reached for a bowl filled with white cheddar popcorn.
Jazz’s hand shot out to stop him from stuffing his mouth. “What did you say?”
“My mama says don’t throw out no records unless you sure, never know when you might need ‘em,” Byron said. He cleared his throat the longer Jazz gazed at him.
“You kept stuff I told you to trash? Where is it?” Jazz squeezed his thick wrist.
“Now don’t get mad. The first month was free, and it’s just nineteen dollars a month. I pay for it with some other invoices outta the receipts. I was gonna tell you about it if we had to cut expenses, I mean, with business slowin’ down in the past few weeks. But then that rich guy kicked in some cash and—”
“A storage unit,” Jazz said and blinked at him. “You put a bunch of Lorraine’s old files in storage.”
Byron looked uneasy. “Boxed it up and tried to arrange it in some kinda order. She had old ledger books, but like you said it was all messed up. Listen, I can stop payin’ and throw it all away like you told me to.”
Jazz ignored her aches and jumped to her feet to do a little dance. “Like hell you’ll stop paying. In fact you better call to make sure our contract is not about to expire.”
Chapter 17
The following Monday, Jazz sat in her defense attorney’s fancy conference room again. Willa and MiMi had come along. For once Jazz didn’t mind having someone with her for support. The upcoming hearing made her murder trial all too real.
MiMi stood examining one of three framed prints on the wall. She nodded approval and sat down at the polished table. “Elegant decor and real leather, good signs. Your lawyer represents people with money. You’re in good hands.”
“Why don’t you take out a magnifying glass and give us an estimated retail value of everything?” Willa rolled her eyes.
“Ah, yes. The working class argument that money isn’t everything. Well that theory has been disproved umpteen times.” MiMi sniffed. She rummaged in her designer leather handbag as if to prove her point. “Money does equal quality. So get over it.”
“I won’t bring up some of your fancy friends or even your family as counterpoint,” Willa said with a smirk.
“I gu
ess your posse from ‘Da Hood’ is proof you can count on them. Remind me again who recommended Higgins.” MiMi raised an eyebrow at Willa.
“Oh shut it,” Willa snapped. “Speaking of which, Brad got Ames to back off once he laid it on the line. Ames pretty much implied that Higgins suggested he enforce the fine print. Higgins wants to build his own little real estate empire.”
“Really?” Jazz tapped a fist on the smooth polished wood surface of the conference table.
“It’s not unusual. Desperate people with no cash sign over property to lawyers as payment. Higgins just got a little too slick,” Willa said. “Your friend Tyretta knew him long?”
Jazz gazed out of the window. Chic drapes the color of cream had been pulled back to let in the light. A dogwood tree with white flowers bloomed outside, but Jazz wasn’t thinking about the pretty scenery. She turned to her sister.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I should ask her. You know?”
“Tyretta doesn’t impress me as a planner or a brain. I don’t see her helping Higgins craft such a scheme,” Willa said.
MiMi scrolled through text messages on her Smartphone. “ In my experience, shady lawyers don’t need help coming up with ways to screw people. Damn it, these people at work keep bothering me.”
“You better stop taking off. We’ve been listening to you whine about needing money for months,” Willa replied in a dry tone.
“I’m their top buyer and merchandise manager. My schedule is flexible, plus I work from home a lot. Thank God I found an excellent daycare for Sage.” MiMi sighed. “Those folks should be lifting holy hands to the Lord they have me.”
“Yeah, right.” Willa shot a glance at Jazz and rolled her eyes. “Back to Tyretta”
Jazz added the fact that Tyretta hooked her up with Higgins to Byron’s observations. “You can’t dig using those fancy databases to find out what I need to know.”
“What’s your plan then?” Willa crossed her arms.
“First, I’m gonna search through a bunch of crap Lorraine left behind in the club. I’ve got an idea there might be some clues in there. I think she’s trying to find something inside my house or Candy Girls.”
“You mean the breakins? She hired some street criminals to break in. But she wouldn’t trust them with something valuable,” Willa said. “Hell, she’s not going to tell them it’s valuable. Or maybe she promised them a cut of the money.” Jazz waved a hand. “All I know is she wants in bad.”
“I thought you threw away most her junk,” Willa replied.
“I told Byron to, but he’s a pack rat. For once I’m glad he ignored me.” Jazz grinned. “He put old file cabinets and papers in a storage unit on Foster Dr. We’re going to search it this afternoon. Mondays are slow.”
MiMi lost interest in her text messages. Eyes wide with excitement, she dropped the phone into her purse. “You could be right. Like a treasure hunt.”
Willa squinted at Jazz. “Be careful who you tell and don’t take anymore crazy risks.”
Before Jazz could reply, the lawyer came into the conference room followed by another younger man. Both wore expensive suits, one gray and the other navy blue. The young lawyer introduced himself as Chad Blanchard, a junior associate. He had blonde hair and hazel eyes. His boyish handsome face made him look like a member of a popular teen pop idol. Phillips got right to business.
“Morning ladies. We have an evidentiary hearing scheduled. I filed a motion to dismiss based on lack of any evidence directly connecting you to the injuries that resulted in the victim’s death. I argued that the fact she came, apparently of her own free will, implies she thought you could help her. The DA’s case is still built on circumstantial evidence. I’m going to argue that at least three other people had motive and opportunity to harm Ms. Lathers.” Phillips straightened his silk tie like he was before the judge already.
“Excellent strategy,” MiMi interjected with a smile directed at the handsome junior lawyer.
“Says the expert on legal matters,” Willa muttered. Her comment earned her a sour look from MiMi.
“Thank you,” Phillips replied with an amused glint in his blue eyes.
The man smiled back at MiMi, but turned to Jazz. “Ms. Vaughn, did Ms. Lathers say anything about Cleavon Bennett or Brandon Wilks?”
“She didn’t lay Brandon’s murder on Cleavon if that’s what you mean. But she was there when it went down,” Jazz replied.
“To wit, it’s entirely plausible she could have been a threat to Bennett. He’s not entirely clear as a suspect in that murder by the way.” Phillips glanced through his files. “Also, her ex-husband was released from prison two months before her murder. He was on record as wanting to harm her.”
“Kyeisha ended up selling everything he owned when he went to jail, and she started sleeping with one of his friends,” Jazz said.
“The police went on numerous domestic disturbance calls to their home,” Phillips nodded to his associate to go on.
“Her oldest sister pulled a gun on her a year earlier. A dispute over family property became very heated.” Blanchard’s dark blonde eyebrows went up.
“Humph, that’s a nice way of describing it. All four sisters, their kids, and boyfriends got into a brawl in the street one night.”
“Her sister pulled a gun? My goodness.” MiMi shook her head.
“Plenty of motive to go around,” Phillips replied with a pleased expression. “Therefore the judge scheduled an evidentiary hearing. Witnesses will testify to support the DA’s case.”
“But you’ll be able to present these theories, right?” Jazz tensed.
“No, we can’t mount a defense during the evidentiary hearing, but…” Phillips raised a hand to forestall Jazz’s worried protest. “I can cross examine the witnesses. I’ll take care not to give too much of my defense away though.”
“Okay.” Jazz didn’t feel okay at all. Her heart hammered. The prospect of listening to people give reasons she should go to prison for life made her sick.
“I think we have a good shot at knocking holes in the DA’s circumstantial evidence. Ms. Lather’s led a pretty… colorful life,” Phillips said. “I’d tell you if there was reason to worry.”
“The recent attack on you adds weight to our alternative theories. Bennett could be behind that as well,” Blanchard put in.
Jazz barked a short laugh. “Gee, glad I could help.”
“No, I didn’t mean you getting attacked was a good thing,” Blanchard stammered, turning a shade of bright pink.
“Don’t worry, she knows. Jazz has a dry sense of humor. How long have you been at this firm?” MiMi beamed at him, batting her long eyelashes.
“Three years,” Blanchard said, his face going to a darker shade of pink. He gazed at the curve of MiMi’s breasts beneath the clingy royal blue sweater she wore.
“Ahem, back to my case,” Jazz cut in. She eyed MiMi, who blinked innocently but said no more.
“The hearing is in three weeks. Lorraine Taylor, Bennett, and several others are listed as witnesses,” Phillips said as he neatly arranged his file on Jazz’s case.
“Great, I get to see those liars in full effect,” Jazz retorted with a grimace.
“On to another topic which might seem unrelated, but isn’t. Have you resolved this issue with Higgins representing you? The DA knows about it. He could try to somehow connect it to a motive to kill Kyeisha Lathers.” Phillips glanced from Jazz to Willa and back again.
“I’ll bet Lorraine filled him in,” Jazz said.
“How would she know?” MiMi blinked at her.
“Yes, how would she know details about your business deal with Ames?” Willa raised an arched eyebrow at Jazz.
Jazz stared straight ahead as if someone not in the room stood in front of her. “Yeah, a good damn question.”
*
Byron and Jazz timed leaving for the storage unit after the lunch rush. Rochelle happily served up the last late orders by one thirty that afternoon. Chyna and Lilly would
come in to work at four o’clock to get ready for evening business. Tyretta had the day off, which eliminated the problem of explaining anything to her. Monday was Byron’s day off as well, but he volunteered without hesitation to help with the hunt.
When Jazz swung open the side door of the club, the Louisiana hot and humid air hit her. “Damn, I hope this storage unit you rented is climate controlled.”
“Yeah. Since there was paperwork and all. some of it I sealed in big plastic bags to keep ‘em dry and the bugs out.” Byron settled behind the wheel of his old Chevy Tahoe.
“You’re gonna be a big time business man one day, Byron.” Jazz climbed into the passenger side.
Just as she was about to pull the door shut, MiMi’s Enclave pulled into the driveway in front of Jazz’s apartment. She parked next to Jazz’s Explorer and jumped out of her car. The lights flashed as she armed the alarm. She was dressed in casual clothes. Still, her jeans, long-sleeve t-shirt, and sneakers looked stylish. She carried a tote bag. Waving at them with a big grin, MiMi trotted to the Tahoe. She opened a back door and jumped in the passenger seat behind Byron.
“Hey y’all. Whew, got here just in time. I thought I was going to have to meet y’all over there.” MiMi fanned her face.
Jazz twisted around to glare at her. “S’cuse me, but what the hell?”
“Oh don’t worry about work. I put in early hours. Auntie Beryl is going to pick Sage up from daycare in case we run later than six o’clock. Girl, they charge ten bucks for every five minutes you’re late.” MiMi rummaged around in her tote bag as she talked.
“I didn’t ask you to come with us, MiMi, so you need to hop your lil’ bold ass outta this vehicle,” Jazz snapped.
“Look, I’m trying to help you, so don’t take that tone with me. The longer we sit here arguing, the later it gets. Plus we’ll attract attention.” MiMi sat back in her seat to signal she wasn’t going anywhere.
Just as Jazz wound up to cuss her out, Byron spoke up. “She’s right, boss lady. There’s a crap load of stuff in that unit. Three of us will make the search go faster. We don’t wanna be out there too late after dark.”
