Devilish Details (30 page)

“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 break-ins.” 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 guess 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 break-ins? 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.