Rayelle lifted her coffee cup as if to toast. “Trust me, Clay. A woman knows when she’s feeling phenomenal.”
“Will I sound like a total idiot of I said it was scary?”
Ray set down the cup and leaned in as if she were about to share a secret. “Clarissa Alicia David—are you in love with that man?”
* * *
“All of ’em? You’re sure?” Eli was asking when he and Barker met to discuss what had turned up in the investigation of the names.
“Sure as I can be.” Barker massaged his forearm below the rolled sleeve of his cobalt-blue shirt. “These women are all married to cops and all live in towns where there are Jazzy B’s clubs.”
“I’ll be damned....”
Barker observed his friend with a wary eye. “E, man...I gotta ask if your guess could be off here? Maybe you’re tryin’ to tie this together because of that old drama.”
Elias raised his hands and then laid them flat on the table they shared. “I’m not. I swear it’s not that. I just have it in my head that it’s too much coincidence with Cole’s involvement.” For emphasis, Eli braced his elbows to the table and cradled his head in his hands.
“You say anything to Clarissa yet?”
“Humph.” Eli let Barker see the slyness in his gaze. “We don’t spend much time talkin’ business.”
“Right.” Barker closed his eyes and grinned. “She doesn’t spend much time here...man tends to forget how fine she is.”
“Keep it that way.”
“Well, sure I will.” Barker rested a hand over his heart. “All your boys will. Well...maybe not.” He chuckled. “Seriously though, if she’s about to become a part of our lovely community, you’d do well to let everybody know she’s yours, especially since you’re in love with her.”
“You’re as backward as Linus and Tigo.”
“In most things, yes,” Barker agreed with a chuckle. “But I gotta agree with them in this case.”
Eli pushed at one side of his shirt and smoothed a hand across the Seventy-Sixers emblem on the T-shirt beneath it. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t know what I planned but it sure as hell wasn’t this. I don’t know if I’m coming or going with her and I don’t really care as long as she’s there.”
“And even after all that, you still can’t admit you love her,” Barker teased as a curious light came to his perfectly spaced gaze. “Or is that because you haven’t told her yet? Or is he terrified?”
“He’s terrified,” Elias admitted, rolling his eyes when Barker laughed.
“Sorry, man, but it ain’t every day one of the cool and collected loses a few points.” Barker took a swig of the beer he’d ordered. “Word to the wise? Tell her how you feel. Chances are she feels the same and she’s waitin’ on you to say it first.” He shrugged. “Women do that ’cause they’re smart enough to know we run like hell when they say it first.”
Eli broke into a laugh that had the women at a nearby table smiling in approval. “I can’t wait to throw all this advice back at you when that woman walks into your life.”
“Chances are I’ll be too stupid to realize it’s her, but thanks for the warning.” Barker tilted back more beer. “Your memory ain’t the best so chances are even higher that you’ll forget it.”
* * *
Head bowed, and attention focused on what she believed to be a very revealing notebook, Detective Sophia Hail walked the familiar corridor leading to her precinct office. As she spent most of her waking hours at the place, she knew it like the back of her hand and could maneuver the halls with her eyes closed.
With that in mind, the added fixture she found in her office set her completely off-kilter. It was a fixture that made the dimmed, cramped space of her office seem virtually matchbox size.
Santigo waited along the edge of her cluttered desk and watched Sophie linger in the doorway frowning over whatever held her interest.
“Soph?” His voice was as soft as the light in his probing eyes when he studied the surprise on her lovely milk-chocolate-colored face.
“Tigo...” she whispered, stepping inside the room as though she were being tugged by some invisible cord. Her bow-shaped mouth parted but no sound emerged.
“Hope you don’t mind this?” Tigo knew she wouldn’t. Sophia Hail was polite to a fault. A trait that she’d managed to hold on to despite the fact that her job rarely called for it.
“No, it’s okay, um...” She smoothed a suddenly sweaty palm across the seat of her navy blue trousers. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not so long...” Tigo glanced at his hands rubbing one inside the other. “I saw you having lunch with Clarissa David remember?”
“Right.” Sophie cleared her throat then and forced a touch more firmness into her voice. “What are you doing here, T?”
“Hoping no one’s asked you to the Reed House Jazz Supper because I want to take you.”
Sophie’s expression proved the invite was the last thing she expected. “Um...I really, uh—” Dammit, stop blinking! she ordered herself. “I really haven’t thought about it much.”
“That’s weird considering your parents started the place.”
“Well, I’ve been busy.”
“Does that mean you don’t have a date?”
“I just said I’ve been busy.”
“So you’ll go with me.”
“T—”
“I’ll call you and we can talk details.” He pushed off the desk.
Sophie’s gray eyes were focused instantly on the awesome breadth of his shoulders. When he squeezed her elbow, she wanted to close her eyes and savor the sensation it rushed to her stomach.
“Good to see you,” he spoke near her temple and tugged one of the spiral curls falling from her chignon.
Dazed, Sophie didn’t register the knock to the doorjamb that came some two minutes after Tigo’s departure. Finding the Chief of Detectives in her doorway caught her completely off guard.
“Sorry, sir.” She straightened another inch.
“No worries.” Paul Hertz was a tall thin man who never let his build stop him from throwing himself into the fray. He’d been known to be the first into a conflict and maintaining an active presence until the culprit was apprehended and his men were out of harm’s way.
“You’ve been pretty preoccupied lately,” Paul noted.
“A lot going on, sir.”
“New case?” Paul scratched at the silvering hair along his sideburns.
“Not officially—” she sighed “—but if what I suspect is true, it could be one hell of a storm.”
“Anything to report?”
Sophie appeared wary. “I want to be sure here, sir, before I say too much.”
Paul was already nodding. “Understood. So was that Santigo Rodriguez I saw a few minutes ago?”
“Yeah...” Sophie’s voice went soft again.
“Been a long time,” Paul mentioned.
“Yeah.” Sophie bowed her head briefly before looking up toward the bull pen. “It’s been a very long time.”
* * *
The sorely missed sounds of laughter filled Jaz Beaumont’s home that evening. Clarissa decided that it’d be best to share her proposed plans with the dancers before they sat down to enjoy a meal. Her anxieties over the reactions to the announcement were unfounded. The girls were more excited than Clarissa had ever seen them, which was saying quite a lot.
The women also shared their own insights on Jaz who had often spoken of Jaz’s hopes for turning the club into a school where they could serve as instructors. They told Clarissa that they were sure those plans had died when Jaz did.
Following a delicious meal of robustly seasoned grilled turkey, rice, vegetables and buttered rolls, the group adjourned to the TV room for coffee and apple c
rumb cake.
“What’s the timeline for the project?” Fredrika Tannen asked once everyone was settled with their first slice of cake.
“Well, I’ve continued the meetings Aunt Jaz was having with Joss Construction and I’ll be meeting soon with the architects to discuss the changes. I hope to have more to tell you guys soon.” She sighed and looked toward Rayelle.
“I want you all to know that I don’t expect everyone to be excited by this. I’m proposing a school here. It’ll be an opportunity for you all to teach and learn. You’ll be salaried—any tips acquired may not be what you’re used to.” Clarissa tucked her legs beneath her on a white-and-gold-plaid Chippendale chair.
“This will be a slow transition, guys. The status quo will be in effect for another few years at least and then that part of the club may be slowly phased out. I promise each of you that no one will be left without a job if they want one.”
Applause filled the room at such a volume that the doorbell could barely be heard above it. Ray left to answer it while Clarissa fielded questions regarding the operation of the school. The group launched a conversation about the teachers Clarissa had already been in touch with.
“How will these learned instructors treat us, Clarissa?” Morgan Beech asked, her tone skeptical.
“Yeah...” Sia Leonard agreed with the question. “Miss J never made us feel ashamed of our dancing, Clarissa.”
“And neither will anyone else.” Clarissa gave each woman the benefit of her gaze. “If it helps to know, the possible instructors I’ve spoken with are eager to work with experienced dancers whose backgrounds are...diverse from their own.”
Laughter rose but the volume unfortunately could not muffle the sound of a loud voice—a loud, angry voice.
Silence gradually took its place as the women turned toward the room entrance. Soon, Rayelle had returned with a tight-lipped Waymon Cole in tow. The man wasted no time with greetings.
“I need to speak with you.”
Nonplussed by the hard look directed her way, Clarissa stood. “There’s plenty of cake, ladies. I don’t want a slice left.” She nodded stiffly when Waymon waved for her to precede him.
“Why wasn’t I invited to your little party?” Waymon asked when they’d barely cleared the room.
“Is there a problem with me having a meeting with the dancers? Last time I looked, you weren’t one.”
“May I inquire about the topic of discussion?”
The warmth in Clarissa’s brown eyes was replaced by a distinctly chillier one when she turned to him. “Something tells me it won’t be a surprise to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice rose another angry decibel.
Clarissa folded her arms across the front of the coral and green asymmetrical T-shirt she sported. She kept her calm, though her temper was definitely beginning a slow simmer in response to the man loud-talking her in her own home.
“Jaz already mentioned it to the girls. She wanted to make it a reality.”
Waymon shifted his stance. “What’s this all about, Clarissa?”
“I’m planning to phase out the gentlemen’s club for a dance studio.”
The man’s light caramel-toned complexion seemed closer to burgundy as his face flushed crimson. “Tell me you’re not serious,” he breathed.
“Very. It’s what Aunt Jaz wanted.”
“She also wanted to make money and I’m pretty sure those girls aren’t ready to forfeit their dancers’ pay to become teachers!”
“We’ve discussed that and that’s all we’re doing is discussing. Nothing’s set in stone yet. I wanted to talk to the girls first.”
“And what about the decision makers?” Waymon challenged.
“That would be me.” Clarissa propped her hands to her hips. “In case you forgot, Jaz left the club to me.”
“Humph.” Waymon regarded Clarissa with something akin to respect but more closely resembling irritation. “You’ve certainly gotten into the swing of things sitting in the top chair.”
“Feeling more and more comfy every day.”
Waymon rolled his eyes toward the TV room entrance. “So is this discussing on the verge of turning into planning?”
“Could be.”
“Need I remind you that I’m the club’s business manager, so such things should be run by me first.”
Clarissa smiled. “You were my aunt’s business manager. But rest assured you’ll be among the first to know when a decision’s been made.”
Waymon nodded abruptly as though taking note that the lines had been drawn. “You’d do well to remember that your aunt didn’t run her club single-handedly,” he said. “A lot of people have a stake in what goes on here.”
“Good night, Waymon.”
He fixed her with a pointed look and then left the house far more quietly than he’d arrived.
Chapter 14
Clarissa had her agenda planned in full for the next day. The unexpected visit from Waymon Cole the night before was as surprising as it was telling. Surprising in that Clarissa and Waymon had never had a cross word between them. He was her aunt’s oldest friend, for heaven’s sake!
It was, however, a telling conversation combined with all the strange pieces of information she had uncovered in the wake of her aunt’s death. The suspicions Waymon now roused were too disturbing to be ignored.
Clarissa’s first stop was to Dr. Steve Raines’s practice. She could only hope he’d have time to see her. Following Waymon’s visit, she contacted the doctor or rather his answering service to request a few moments of his time that morning. She had not received a call back to confirm the meeting.
* * *
A smiling middle-aged woman with waves of pecan-brown hair and sparkling green eyes greeted Clarissa when she arrived at Dr. Raines’s office.
“Ms. David?” The woman spoke before Clarissa could say a word. “Miranda Sims. I knew your aunt. I was so very sorry to hear of her passing,” the woman said once she’d rounded her desk.
“Thank you, Ms. Sims.” Clarissa shook the woman’s outstretched hand. “I apologize for just dropping by. I really do need to speak with the doctor. I don’t mind waiting for whatever time he can spare.”
“That won’t be necessary, hon.” Miranda smoothed a hand up and down the teal silk of Clarissa’s blouse. “He’s been expecting you. You’re welcome to go right on in.” Miranda waved toward an oak door in the distance.
Clarissa squeezed her hand again. “Thank you so much.”
Steve Raines was making his way to the door when he called for Clarissa to enter. They welcomed one another with hugs. Steve kissed Clarissa’s forehead and then led her to the beige suede living area in the office.
“How are you, love?” Steve Raines’s lilting Kingston accent commanded relaxation. He leaned close and propped Clarissa’s chin on his index finger. “You look tired.”
“I’ve been working to make some changes at the club.” She massaged her neck and smiled wearily. “Things Aunt Jaz wanted to do but never had the time for.”
Steve patted Clarissa’s knee in a fatherly manner. “What’s wrong, love?”
“I guess I can’t stop wondering if it was my aunt’s health that led to her death. I just can’t make myself believe that it was that bad.” Clarissa rested her elbows to her knees. “There was so much she had planned for it all to be just taken away.”
“I know it seems unfair.” Steve moved closer to Clarissa on the sofa. “You should take comfort in knowing that Jazmina lived her life to the fullest.” Steve’s eyes twinkled with a sly merriment. “There was always one more thing that needed doing as far as she was concerned. She always wanted to have a plan. Said that when her time was up, it was just up. But she’d never just sit around and wait on it.”
Th
e doctor’s words dried Clarissa sudden tears and replaced them with some contentment. “Did she take care of herself?” she asked.
Steve sighed. “Obviously not as well as she should have. Many times ‘living life to the fullest’ acts at cross purposes with taking care of one’s health. But she knew exactly what she was doing. She was at peace and happy when she died. That had a lot to do with you, Clarissa.” Steve blinked and focused on his hands for a weighty moment. “I found nothing that tells me she took her own life.”
Clarissa inhaled deeply. She knew Jaz would never have done a thing like taking her own life. Steve, however, had provided a close-enough answer to the question she really wanted to as—which was whether anyone else had taken it.
* * *
Elias treasured the hug from his mother. He kept hold of her, taking comfort in the familiar yet missed scent of her perfume. When he kissed her cheek and pulled away, Lilia Joss kept her son close.
“Are you feeling all right, sweetness?” She felt his cheek, using the back of her hand.
“You’re funny.” Eli grinned, taking her hand and planting a kiss to her palm. Linking arms, they strolled from the foyer and into the living room.
“I know something’s up.” Lilia looked over to peer wisely into her son’s handsome face. “You’re coming to give me a rough time about letting Stan Crothers take me to the dinner at Reed House.”
“I’m cool with you going with the man.” Eli sighed as if it exhausted him to do so. “And I won’t break Stan’s heart by makin’ trouble.”
Lilia fixed Elias with a smug, playful look then. “So is this visit about my social life or yours...?”
Eli worked the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What have you heard?” he asked as though he had already imagined.
“Well, I really don’t know much.” Lilia perched her statuesque form on the back of the floral sofa and watched Eli walk on into the expansive room.
“You know her name.”
“I do and I’d like to know why you tried to downplay it when I met Clarissa at the funeral?”
Provocative Territory Page 14
