Devilish Details (5 page)

“This better be the delivery man bringing
food for the kitchen. Comin’ here at...” Jazz broke off and glanced
at the digital clock on her wall. “Damn, it’s eight o’clock.”

MiMi Landry mugged at Jazz from behind large
designer sunglasses at the peephole. “ When Jazz yanked open the
door, she gave her an air kiss as she breezed past to cross the
open floor plan to the kitchen.“I brought breakfast, so don’t shoot
me.” I’ll make some fresh coffee.”

“I had breakfast, and have you ever heard of
calling people
before
poppin’ up at their house?” Jazz
slammed her door hard.

“Breakfast is not three cups of coffee and a
cig,” MiMi said. She looked around at the room. “I kinda like it.
But don’t you think spice orange, tan, and brown are more masculine
colors?”

“I think you should mind your own business.
Please don’t come up in here telling me how to live,” Jazz shot
back. Despite her smart comebacks, she opened the large paper bag.
The smell of sausages floated up and Jazz breathed in.

“Uh-huh, I knew you’d dig in once you got a
whiff. I got it at Mama Blue’s Kitchen on N. 22nd Street.” MiMi’s
voice echoed as she stuck her head into a cabinet to reach
dishes.

“You went deep in the hood? Well cut off my
legs and call me Shorty,” Jazz joked.

“Hey, I figured you’d want some home cooking
like you’re used to over in this part of town,” MiMi replied.

“With your snobbish self. I’ve eaten in
fancy restaurants just like you, for your damn information.”

MiMi eyed the plates and cups. Then she went
to the sink and washed them. “You got dust on these things like you
never use them.”

“I don’t need plates to eat take out from
those handy containers they give you. Or I grab something from the
kitchen downstairs. Willa’s Aunt Beryl got me those fru-fru plates
with flowers all over ‘em anyway,” Jazz said with a snort.

“They consider you family. That’s why. We’re
all family in fact. Look how they’ve adopted Sage and me, “Mimi
replied.

Jazz sat on a barstool at her breakfast
counter separating the living room from the kitchen. She watched as
MiMi bustled around. “Look at you all domesticated and shit,” Jazz
quipped.

“With a baby I had to learn some domestic
skills, but trust me, I’m no little homemaker yet. Girl, between
the baby and working, I’m too tired for that mess. I just wish I
could hire a housekeeper. Money is tight.” MiMi removed the small
sausage links and eggs and put them on a large plate. Then she put
it in the microwave oven, turned to Jazz, and gave a dramatic
sigh.

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “So what happened to
what’s his name, that rich boyfriend you were grooming to support
you in style?”

Just then, the microwave timer bell dinged.
MiMi busied herself with the plates. She fussed over pouring the
coffee. “Landon Connor Matthews, III. You know, I’m not sure he’s
father material. Here, have these delicious biscuits.”

“Thanks,” Jazz said and eyed her.

“Hmm, these are so, so good. I’m going to
check out their donuts for our next office meeting.” MiMi gave her
lips a dainty dab after chewing a tiny portion of sausage. “I stick
to vegetarian dishes. My favorite health food grocery store has
veggie patties on low glycemic bread. But a treat every now and
then won’t hurt.”

“Don’t bring that mess up in here,” Jazz
retorted. Then she sipped coffee as she studied MiMi. “So Mr. Big
Stuff,
Landon,
dumped you, huh?”

“We’re taking a break, you know, to examine
our relationship,” MiMi said. She sniffed. “It was my
suggestion.”

“Drop the act. For months it’s been ‘Landon
says this’ and ‘Landon does that’. You were looking at China and
silverware designs. What happened?” Jazz stared at MiMi until she
squirmed on the barstool.

“I told him we needed to take our
relationship to the next level. Sage had gotten used to him being
around, and...”

“You’d been freakin’ him long enough so he
needed to do the right thing,” Jazz cut in.

MiMi winced. “Don’t be crude.”

Jazz smothered a smirk. “Sorry, tell it your
way.”

MiMi brushed her long hair back. “I opened
myself up to that man for months. I cooked meals for him, even
introduced him to my family a couple of weeks ago.”

“Wow, serious stuff.” Jazz thought,
no
wonder the guy started backing off.

“Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite ready for
the whole ‘meet the family’ scene. He kept giving excuses why I
couldn’t meet his family. You’re saying I pushed too fast?” MiMi
gulped down coffee, the food on her plate forgotten.

“Well it’s been almost four months
and--”

“Four months and two weeks,” MiMi put in.
She broke off a corner of a biscuit but only toyed with it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “All righty then.
It’s not like you were being too intense about it, huh?” “Okay,
okay. You’re saying I was too pushy. Hell, I’m not getting any
younger and I’ve got expenses. Sage needs a private school. She’s
gifted, I can tell already,” MiMi blurted out.

“Y’all had an argument and you told him
that?” Jazz barked a laugh. “No wonder he’s gone.”

“I’m not stupid. I told him we I’d be the
perfect wife to help build his business. My mother trained my
sister and me to be assets to the right kind of husband.” MiMi
lifted her chin and sat straight.

Jazz started to be blunt and say Mrs. Landry
raised her girls to be gold diggers, but decided against it.
Instead she cleared her throat and said, “I’m guessing he didn’t
take the ‘put a ring on it’ speech very well.”

MiMi glowered as though Landon stood across
from them in the living room. “He’d be lucky to have me, the stumpy
little jerk.”

“Well that plan is a wrap. What’s your
back-up?”

“Landon was my back-up after Mario Deschamps
turned out to be a creep. Remind me not to listen to my family
again about who to date,” MiMi retorted. She dropped her head. “I’m
tired of being poor.”

Jazz gave a grunt. She got up and poured
herself another cup of coffee, dumped five teaspoons of sugar into
the cup, and sat down again. “Trust me, I’ve been poor and you
ain’t even close.”

“I’m
poor
. I’ve been wearing the same
spring clothes for the last two years. Look at these shoes, just
look. Gino Valachi pumps from three years ago,” MiMi whined. “I
can’t take Sage to her interview dressed last year’s fashions.”

“Damn, so you’re so desperate you gonna put
the baby to work?” Jazz clapped a hand to her forehead in mock
horror. “Now that’s bad.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have her on the list
for an exclusive day school, Magnolia Woods Academy. People
practically sell their homes just to get the tuition for that
place. They expect a certain kind of background and family. We both
have to attend an interview as the final step in the selection
process.” MiMi tapped a lacquered fingernail on the faux marble
countertop as she spoke.

“Speaking of ridiculous,” Jazz mumbled as
she gulped more coffee.

“Hey, getting into the right kindergarten
means getting into the right private schools on up to college. My
Sage is going to have the best, damn it.”

“Well thank you for the latest episode of
As-The-Drama-Queen-Turns, but I’ve got things to do before the club
opens.” Jazz stood and drained the last coffee from her cup.
“Thanks for the breakfast, and have a great day.”

MiMi grabbed the cup from Jazz’s hand and
pulled her back down on the stool. “Which brings me to why we need
to find that money.”

“What money?” Jazz pulled away.

“Don’t play with me, Jazz. You know what
money I’m talking about. Before Jack was murdered, he hid money
overseas. I’ll bet he used connections Filipe had to launder his
drug money,” MiMi said, eyes shining at the thought of tracking
down a boatload of cash.

“In case you forgot, I broke up with Filipe
when he went to prison. Not to mention I helped put him away. So
before you even ask, hell no. I’m not going to visit him and ask
about money.” Jazz leaned in and stabbed a forefinger at MiMi’s
nose to punctuate her last statement.

“Ahem, so you don’t think trying to make up
with him would...”

“You’re bat-shit crazy, MiMi, you know
that?” Jazz shot back.

“Yeah, yeah... I was just thinking out loud
for a minute. Don’t get all hostile,” MiMi snapped.

“I have to get to work. Lock my door on your
way out,” Jazz said.

“Wait, now that you mention the club, I saw
those articles in the newspaper. Not good for business.” MiMi
raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“What articles in the newspaper?”

“See, this is why you need to get up early
and pay attention to the news.”

MiMi reached into her leather hobo purse and
pulled out a copy the Baton Rouge Daily News and handed it to Jazz.
The paper was already folded to the “Crime Beat” section. One short
article talked about the mayor’s efforts to clean up neighborhoods.
Bars and smoke shops were targeted for closure, said to be “ground
zero for unsavory activities”. Candy Girls was given as an example,
with mention of frequent complaints from law-abiding neighbors of
loud noise and rowdy behavior.

“Damn,” Jazz said and clenched her
teeth.

“Read the other one.” MiMi pointed to
another article.

“Police answered a call of shots fired to
find a man dead in a house on Dalton Ave. They are searching for
Cleavon Bennett and Kyeisha Lathers in connection with the murder.
Both have a connection to the nightclub Candy Girls where several
gang members are known to hang out.” Jazz let out a red hot string
of expletives. She worked to calm her breathing and read on.

“Uh-huh, Candy Girls mentioned twice in
connection to crimes. Not good.” MiMi sipped coffee daintily.

“Damn,” Jazz repeated with more force. She
threw the newspaper across the room.

“We both need cash, sweetie. Unless you have
a pot of money to open another place once the mayor and his
clean-up-Baton Rouge folks close down Candy Girls.” MiMi lifted a
shoulder when Jazz glared at her. “I’m just sayin’.”

“They’re a long way from closing my
business, and if they try...” Jazz huffed out several jagged
breaths.

“I hear you, but the thing is we all need
money. Willa does, too, if she stops being so hard-headed and admit
it. Poor Mikayla is in a
public school
, “

“Which is not the end of the world.”

“Crown Protection is operating on a thin
margin, very thin. They need to upgrade their computer systems to
keep pace with the competition,” MiMi said.

She spoke with more authority about the
security business than Jazz knew she had. Jazz squinted at her.
“You got that from Cedric.”

“My point is we’re
owed
a substantial
amount of money that’s sitting somewhere in a foreign country.
That’s just un-American,” MiMi said and crossed her arms.

“So Willa is on board with your plan to find
the money her late husband hid away?”

“Jack was Willa’s soon-to-be
ex-husband
, and my fiancé let me remind you. And the father
of my child. Which brings up another point, Jack would want his
children to be taken care of. You know he loved Mikayla and thought
of Anthony as his son.” MiMi pressed home her points.

Anthony was almost five years old when Willa
and Jack married. They developed a close bond because Anthony’s
biological father faded from the picture. Jazz hadn’t cared for
Jack, with his silky upper-class charm and snooty family. Still
he’d been an attentive father to both kids, and hadn’t treated
Anthony differently after Mikayla was born.

“I notice you didn’t answer my question.
Tell me about the conversation you had with Willa.” Jazz sat back
to wait for the answer she had already guessed.

MiMi cleared her throat. Then jumped off the
stool and started cleaning up the remains of breakfast. She spoke
with her back to Jazz as she washed the two plates. “How do you
function without a dishwasher, girl? I haven’t had a chance to call
her. I’ve been so busy with work and all, but she’ll benefit just
like us.”

“In other words, you’re scared she’s going
to refuse. As I recall, she’s still the executor of Jack’s
estate.”

MiMi swiped the plates dry with angry
motions. “You know how she is! Sometimes I could just chew nails in
frustration at the way that woman... I know she’s your sister,
but--”

Jazz waved a hand. “Oh you don’t have to
hold back with me. We’ve gone more rounds than a couple of
professional wrestlers.”

“Willa has to send a request as executor to
the bank Jack used, and they’ll help us track the wire transfers.”
MiMi huffed and rinsed out the coffee cups.

“But she won’t,” Jazz prompted.

MiMi assumed a sour face and mimicked
Willa’s voice. “We don’t have any proof there was money, much less
where it went. Jack traveled to three foreign countries in the two
years before he was murdered.”

“There it is then. Nothing we can do,” Jazz
replied dryly. She looked at the newspaper again and frowned.
“Assholes.”

“Look, we need to show Willa she’s writing
off a big chunk of money. We could be talking about close to a
million dollars.” MiMi marched back to sit across from Jazz again.
“Filipe owes you, too. We might get a line on his stash since he
was in business with Jack and Ryan. I’ve got a plan.”

“I better get some more caffeine.” Jazz got
up and poured more coffee into one of the clean cups. She turned
back to face MiMi, leaning against the counter. “Okay, go.”

“These two drug dealers in the article, they
both ran with Filipe’s guys. Yes, they were getting their supplies
from Filipe. Since you’re friends with his girlfriend you can find
out more.””

“I sure as hell don’t get why everybody
thinks we’re friends. Let me throw a big load of cold water on your
scheme. The last person she’ll want to help is
me
. I hardly
know Cleavon, and that’s just fine since he’s on the run, and I
don’t need trouble with the cops. I’m lucky those gangstas that
hung with Filipe ain’t looking to put me in a body bag. Enough
reasons for you?” Jazz cocked an eyebrow at MiMi. Then she frowned.
“How do you know all this anyway?”