Devilish Details

by Emery, Lynn

  “It’s a scheduling shuffle. Don’t read anything into it. But I have a bigger concern. The DA has a witness that you assaulted and tied up Ms. Lathers less than a week before she was murdered. True or not?” Phillips shot the words out.

  “They left the part out about her bringing a gun and pointing it at me,” Jazz said. “Tell me what happened blow by blow. Don’t leave out anything,” he replied curtly.

  Jazz shifted in her chair feeling like it was a literal hot seat. Still she told him everything, including giving Kyeisha pills to make her sleepy. When she finished, there was silence.

  “It was self-defense,” Jazz said in her loud grumpy tone.

  “I’ll argue it’s hearsay. Lorraine Taylor says an employee at her bar claims Ms. Lather’s told her. Ms. Taylor never got a chance to ask her about it.”

  “Well that’s something,” Willa replied. Yet her frown of worry didn’t go away.

  “I don’t like surprises, Ms. Vaughn.” Phillips’ frowned at them.

  “There’s nothing more. We promise,” Willa answered before Jazz spoke.

  After they discussed more details about the upcoming court hearing, the lawyer ended the conference . Willa rocked back and forth in her executive chair. Kay, her executive assistance, came in with a box of donuts. She checked that they had fresh coffee. Noticing the grim expressions of the sisters, she made as little sound as possible and left.

  “He didn’t say it was all bad,” Willa said.

  “Only if the judge rules it’s hearsay. We need to find out who beat and tortured her.” “How much sleep did you get last night?” Willa got up and poured a cup of coffee.

  Jazz waved it away when Willa offered it to her. “Two hours. Maybe. I Three of my friends turned into enemies overnight. Shit.”

  Willa nodded, but didn’t respond. She put a donut on a large paper napkin and sat down again. She ate, sipped, and ate more donut. Minutes ticked by as they both settled on thinking through facts. For a time, only the distant ringing of the office phones broke the silence.

  “Listen, I…”

  “Don’t say it,” Jazz broke in.

  “Say what?” Willa licked donut glaze from one thumb.

  “They weren’t my friends. You tried to warn me about the kind of people I was running with, etc.” Jazz looked at the coffee pot, but didn’t move at first. Then she got up and poured the strong brew into a mug. “What the hell. One more cup won’t make a difference. This isn’t what’s keeping me awake anyway.”

  “You’re grown, girl. I wasn’t going to lecture you,” Willa said.

  “That’s never stopped you before,” Jazz retorted.

  Her big sister ignored the dig. “Besides, not everyone in your crowd is the same. Look at Rochelle, Chyna, and Lilly. Byron is tops. I’d hire him any day of the week.”

  Jazz wagged a forefinger at her. “Hands off my second in command.”

  After more seconds of silence, Jazz got up to walk around the office. She gazed out of the fourth floor window at traffic on the busy city street below. Then she sat back down again. Not that she paid attention to her surroundings. Jazz continued to mentally turn over facts in her head. She snapped her fingers causing Willa to jump.

  “When Kyeisha came to my house,” Jazz said.

  “You mean the time you tied her up?” “She had a gun. Everybody seems to forget she had a damn gun on me,” Jazz snarled.

  “You drugged her and used a disabled man’s wheelchair to dump her over at Lorraine’s place,” Willa continued mildly.

  Jazz glowered at her. “Shut up and let me finish.”

  “Good thing she woke up confused and couldn’t get her story straight. But finish your thought,” Willa said.

  “What if Kyeisha wanted to make a deal with me? She kinda implied that she would cut Cleavon out of any money we made. What if that included Lorraine’s gangsta sons?” Jazz blinked at Willa waiting for her reaction.

  Willa frowned as she seemed to work through her theory. “But the youngest was killed, and the older two are in prison for a long time to come.”

  “Lots of guys continue to operate while on the inside,” Jazz countered. “Lorraine could be holding things down, keeping him and his gang informed. Lorraine or Cleavon found out. If they think I told her something…” Jazz snapped her fingers again.

  “They tried torturing her into talking. But… Good Lord, Jazz,” Willa whispered and stared at Jazz wide-eye.

  Jazz nodded. A chill went down her back. “She couldn’t tell them anything because there was nothing to tell. Phillips said we could argue Kyeisha came to me for help. Maybe she did.”

  Willa went to her desk. “She sure didn’t drive. I don’t see her walking very far with those injuries.”

  “ “What are you doing?”

  Willa tapped the keys of her computer. “I’m pulling up a map around Candy Girls. I’ll…”

  “Good morning,” Cedric said from the open door. He came in seconds later. “Y’all look quite intense.”

  “Okay, here’s my theory,” Jazz blurted out. “Kyeisha wasn’t brought to my place all beat up to frame me. She somehow got away after being tortured to warn me or hide. And I know what you’re going to say. I’m thinking she had help.”

  Cedric rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know who would have the nerve after what they did to her.”.

  “Maybe this person only made Kyeisha think he was helping her to get more information. He plans to get the information for himself,” Jazz said.

  “Cleavon,” Jazz and Willa said at the same time gazing wide-eyed at each other.

  “You two are scaring me,” Cedric quipped. “Okay, but who called the police and why? Cleavon wouldn’t have without getting the information he wanted.”

  “Maybe a suspicious neighbor,” Willa offered. She looked at Cedric and shrugged when he gave a skeptical shake of his head.

  Jazz paced as she spoke. “It had to be somebody close enough to know where she was and what was happening. Someone who had a reason to think they could profit from getting Kyeisha away from Lorraine.”

  “I’m dizzy just trying to sort out all that double crossing. Y’all been watching too many crime thrillers.” Cedric looked from Jazz to Willa and back again.

  “Like Willa always says, I know my shady crowd. Kyeisha would have sold her loyalty to me if I’d given her a chance. I can tell you stories with more twists than any movie written in Hollywood.”

  Cedric took a seat. “Okay, tell us what Kyeisha said both nights she showed up at your place.”

  “She talked about me knowing about Filipe’s stash, and how we could make a killing. All I had to do was throw in with her. She said she hadn’t told Cleavon or Lorraine. So, maybe she decided to dump them once she was at my place.” Jazz sat down again.

  “There was no blood trail like she walked or crawled for any distance. Not that I think she could have managed to in her condition. We figured somebody had to have brought her. I assumed they thought she was dead when they dumped her and then called the police to set you up,” Cedric said.

  “Yeah, but what if she convinced someone that they could get information out of Jazz,” Willa said.

  “Cleavon tortured Kyeisha until he believed she didn’t know anything. Lorraine realizes they’re gone and calls the cops?” Cedric rubbed his chin in thought. “I don’t know.”

  “We don’t have to know. We just have to make them think we know,” Jazz said.

  Cedric and Willa exchanged a glanced. Both started to shake their heads at the same time.

  “Aw c’mon, Let me tell you what…” Jazz stopped when Willa held up a palm like a school crossing guard stopping traffic.

  “I have a feeling you want us to do something stupid or dangerous,” Willa said. “The answer is hell no.”

  “It’s my ass on the line for murder. I could get convicted and locked up for twenty-five to life,” Jazz said. She shuddered.

  “Phillips says he can counter their evidence. He seems pret
ty confident,” Willa argued.

  “Men and women are sitting in prisons all over America because of circumstantial cases against them,” Cedric said in a solemn tone.

  “A little more help over here Cedric. Please,” Willa hissed at him with a glare.

  Cedric blinked at Willa. Then he cleared his throat. “Willa’s right though. Let’s take our information to the police.”

  Jazz jumped to her feet. “Now y’all gone to talkin’ crazy. The police would throw a party if I got locked up. They’re city employees, remember? And the city wants my club closed. I’m not feeling too confident about calling local authorities.”

  “Detective Addison believes you, and Miller values his opinion,” Willa offered. She huffed a sigh at the frown Jazz gave her. Then she pressed on with her point. “Okay, Miller is not your biggest fan, and but he still respects Don as a friend and most importantly as a cop.”

  “I say we run our guesses by Don. He won’t tell his colleagues if he thinks your theory is too out there. On the other hand he can convince Miller if what say makes sense,” Cedric added.

  “He’s already put way too much on the line because of me.” Jazz raked her long weave with one hand. “Don does not get involved. Period. No more discussion.”

  Willa got up and placed both hands on Jazz’s shoulders. “You’re always talking about how I should think of my family. That includes you. Promise you won’t go up against Cleavon Bennett or his crew. Promise me on Road Runner’s grave,” Willa said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  Jazz gazed into her sister’s eyes. They were bright with the threat of tears. The fear in them was real. After several long moments Jazz gave her a quick hug then pushed free. She flipped a hand at Willa as she sat down again.

  “Alright, alright. No need for all of the sappy soap opera drama. I promise to stay clear of Cleavon,” Jazz said. She crossed her legs and dug into her purse until she found the make-up bag. Then she flipped open a mirror. With a frown she fixed her lipstick.

  Cedric wore an amused, puzzled expression as he gazed at Willa. “What was all that about Road Runner’s grave?”

  Willa’s tense expression eased. “He was our favorite cartoon when we were kids. Nothing that dumb coyote tried could take out lil’ Road Runner. We loved that doggone thing. If we were serious about a promise, we’d swear on Road Runner’s grave to keep it.”

  “Most people say ‘I swear on my mother’s grave’,” Cedric replied with a laugh.

  “Yeah, well, we put more value on the bird. He brought us more happiness than she ever did,” Willa replied with grim humor.

  Jazz stood and slung her purse over one shoulder. “I gotta run and take care of some business.”

  “Remember you promised,” Willa said and pointed at her.

  “Yeah, Yeah. Jeez, a little trust is too much to ask?” Jazz waved goodbye and left.

  *

  Later that day, a quiet Tuesday afternoon, Jazz sat in her office. Her door and windows were open. A sweet May breeze caused the gauzy beige curtains to billow in and out, managing to make it past the metal security grill. Smoke curled up from the neglected cigarillo resting in a large ceramic ashtray near her elbow. Byron strolled in with a white envelope in one hand.

  “I signed for this certified letter the city,” he said and handed it to her.

  Jazz tore it open. “The hearing to shut me down is two days before my first trial date. Bastards like to pile it on.”

  “You got two good lawyers working for ya.” Byron started to say more but stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Seconds later Tyretta appeared at the open door. “Hey girl. How you doin’?”

  “I’m goin’ back up front to finish work.” Byron brushed past Tyretta without looking at her.

  “Yeah, make yourself useful. Actin’ like he’s hot shit.” Tyretta pushed the door closed with one foot. Then she sat on the edge of Jazz’s desk.

  “Byron looked up from street level to something higher. He’s got goals,” Jazz said mildly. She tugged at papers Tyretta had sat on causing her to get up.

  “Well la-dee-fuckin’-da for him,” Tyretta retorted as she slumped into one of the chairs.

  “I didn’t buy Candy Girls so I could run a hole in the wall for twenty-five or thirty years like Lorraine’s mama or like Lorraine will end up doing.” Jazz continued to sign checks for invoices. She stuffed, addressed, and stamped envelopes. “Look. Byron had all the invoices laid out for me. That’s how a manager acts. He’s helping me hold this place together.”

  “Uh-huh. So what’s up with the city?” Tyretta seemed to avoid looking at the envelope on Jazz’s desk.

  “Nothing my new lawyer can’t handle,” Jazz said matter-of-factly. She went back to sorting through paperwork.

  “Now that you mentioned it, Higgins told me you fired him. I’m surprised you wasn’t satisfied. He helped me a lot with traffic tickets and stuff a couple of years ago or so.”

  “Hmm, wasn’t that about the time of all those scandals with the city ? Tickets got fixed.” Jazz looked up at her sharply, remembering Lorraine’s hook-up to avoid city taxes. Dots connected. “Did he help out Lorraine, too?”

  “Far as I know he never even met Lorraine. You know she too damn cheap to pay a decent lawyer.” Tyretta gave a sharp laugh. “No, we went to court all legal and stuff. He wasn’t caught up in that mess.”

  “I wouldn’t call Higgins a decent anything. He tried to trip me up with that investment contract but it won’t work.” Jazz picked up the still burning cigarillo. She pulled on it, looking at Tyretta through the smoke.

  “I hear you, girl. Keep fightin’. But you got a lot comin’ at you. Course all that takes money. No wonder you sellin’ things in storage. I didn’t know you had so much of Lorraine’s junk. Can’t be worth much.” Tyretta maintained her casual tone, as if discussing nothing important.

  Jazz pretended to concentrate on the papers in front of her again. Anger, like a slow pressure, started at the base of her spine. Byron’s instincts were spot on. Instead of wanting to explode, Jazz’s emotions coalesced into icy resolve. She gave a slight shrug without looking up.

  “The sheriff locked up the building before she could move everything I guess. You know, before they had the tax auction. I’m going to go through pick through the papers and notebooks tonight after we close. Who knows? Could be hidden treasure in a bunch of trash.”

  “ I can look through ‘em for ya,” Tyretta said a bit too fast. Then she pulled back. “So you can run the business I mean.”

  “Thanks, but I need to do it myself. Besides, it’s not that much.”

  “It’ll go even faster with two of us lookin’,” Tyretta said.

  Jazz glanced up and tilted her head to one side. “I’ve never known you to volunteer to work longer hours.”

  Tyretta didn’t miss a beat. She pulled a comical face. “I was bein’ polite, girl. You know I’ma run outta here when my shift is over. I ain’t gonna fight to stay late.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Jazz gave a grunt and went back to looking at the paperwork again. More silence.

  “Maybe you’ll find something in Lorraine’s old papers that will help you fight the city or somethin’.” Tyretta brushed at the fabric of one pant leg.

  “Doubt it. ,” Jazz said.

  “Oh. Like I said, what went down with Higgins don’t seem like him.”

  “People do a lot of nasty stuff for money. You know what I mean.” Jazz looked at her steadily.

  “I hear ya.” Tyretta stood and stretched. “Let me get back to work before Byron comes in here with an attitude.”

  “Yeah,” Jazz replied calmly. She watched her leave. Then Jazz sent Byron a text message.

  Chapter 19

  By ten o’clock that night, the base from the club’s sound system thumped the walls of Candy Girls. More customers than expected had turned out for a Tuesday. About ten construction workers from a nearby site sat scattered around the club. Som
e enjoyed a late supper. Others traded jokes with Tyretta and Chyna as they served. Jazz enjoyed walking the floor to join in the banter. Byron watched over it all with an impassive expression. He didn’t make it obvious, but Byron kept an eye on Tyretta. By eleven, the number of customers had dwindled to a handful of hold-outs determined to close the place down. Still smiling at a flirtatious plumber, Jazz motioned to Byron. He crossed the floor in long strides. One look at him and the plumber decided to call it a night. The man was gone before Byron got to them.

  “What’s up?” Byron said.

  “You scared the poor man outta here,” Jazz said with a laugh. “I could have dealt with him easy, that’s not why I called you over.”

  Byron grunted as he glanced around the club floor. “Yeah, he looked pretty harmless. But he was about to get a little too friendly. I could tell.”

  Jazz nodded at a short, but strong looking swarthy white man. His gaze followed Chyna around the room. “No more liquor that dude at table eight. Make sure he’s not driving or getting too free with his hands. I think he’s going to be trouble.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Byron said. “Might give him a word of warning before it goes that far.”

  “Yeah,” Jazz replied.

  “Listen, about your plan…” Byron turned his back so Tyretta couldn’t see his face. She was across the club behind the bar. He’d complained because Jazz had prodded Tyretta without warning him.

  “Cleavon must be pretty desperate by now, boss lady. I don’t like it.” “Has she made any phone calls that you could tell?” Jazz pretended not to notice Tyretta stealing glances at them.

  “Not that I saw. No tellin’ what they might do.”

  “What who might do?” Don said. Hidden by Byron’s bulk, neither of them had seen him come into the club. His left arm was no longer in a sling. A portion of a bandage showed from his rolled back long sleeved shirt.

  “Hey sweetie. We’re just talking about these horny construction guys. Byron’s about to clear the house. First, he’s gonna walk the girls to their cars. Right, Byron?” Jazz reached up to clap the big man’s large left shoulder.

  “Right. Glad to see you on the mend detective.” Byron nodded at Don with a smile then walked away. He looked at Jazz one last time as he left.