My Own Worst Frenemy (20 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Reid

BOOK: My Own Worst Frenemy
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Chapter 29
T
he next morning, I go through the routine of getting dressed and heading for school. Lana only emerged from her bedroom long enough to tell me good-bye and that everything will work out okay, and then I was out. I headed straight for Mitchell's, knowing Paulette would be there early to open up shop. Paulette loves to talk and hates the Mitchell kids, so it shouldn't be too hard to get the 411 from her.
When I walk into her office, I'm surprised to find Mr. Mitchell there, and immediately think this wasn't the best idea. I mean, I'm not guilty of anything, but I feel like I've caused him a lot of trouble anyway, and he's a nice guy despite his demon children. They both look up at me, and seem very surprised I'm there, and I just want to run. But I remind myself this is business.
“What are you doing here?” Paulette asks.
“I know I'm the last person you expect to see.”
“You know how I feel about school and work,” Mr. Mitchell says. “Weekend jobs only. Justin and Lissa are out in the car—I just stopped in to talk to Paulette for a second, but I can give you a ride to school.”
“Weekend jobs? I just came to get my last paycheck.”
“Are you leaving us?” Mr. Mitchell asks. “It's only professional to give two weeks' notice.”
“You do know about the, um, incident, right?”
“Of course, I know about it. I also know you didn't do it.”
“But it was your clients' homes and . . .”
“I know all about it. Believe me, I've talked to enough cops to learn all the details. And I don't care if all the details point to you and Marco, I know people. I know you didn't do this.”
I want to throw my arms around Mr. Mitchell, but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be professional, so I just walk over and shake his hand and hope he gets how grateful I am.
“I wish Langdon was as open-minded as you, Mr. Mitchell. We've been suspended.”
“I'm on the board and I didn't hear anything about a suspension. You'd think given it's my business that's going to lose the most from this, they'd let me know.”
“Old lady Smythe, I mean, Headmistress Smythe, met Marco and me at the front gate yesterday and told us we were suspended. She wouldn't even let us into the school to get our stuff from our lockers.”
“I'll be having a talk with her. Expect to be back in school Monday morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell your boyfriend I expect to see you both here tomorrow.”
“Marco isn't . . . I mean, yes, sir.” I'm so pleased that he thinks Marco is my boyfriend that I almost forget why I'm here. His kids also thought Marco and I were hooked up, which is how I got into this mess in the first place. Focus, Chanti.
“So about the job . . .”
“Paulette, do you have something they can do here in the office, or out in the storage warehouse?”
“Oh, I can definitely put them to work tomorrow.”
“I want you and Marco here,” Mr. Mitchell explains, “but unfortunately my clients might feel differently. Until the police get this thing cleared up, you won't be working on home assignments.”
“I completely understand, Mr. Mitchell. Thanks for letting us keep our jobs. I know this is going to affect your business.”
“When I was a kid, I was in a similar jam. My life would have taken a whole different turn if someone didn't believe in me. Someone did, and it all worked out. Just like I know it will for you.”
“I can't believe this. You're letting them work here, even after the police arrested them for ruining your business?”
Justin must have grown tired of waiting in the car. The minute I hear his voice I want to kill him, or at least kick him in the spot Lana taught me would take down a male assailant long enough for me to get away. But I can't get away from this. I have to run right up on it if I don't want to spend the next two years in juvie. So I keep my cool, and only imagine I've just kicked him into submission.
“No one's ruined my business. Keep that in mind, would you? It's
my
business and I'll run it the way I see fit.”
“Yeah, but one day it'll be mine, and I'd like to make sure there will be something left of it for me to run.”
“Keep going the way you are, messing around with drugs, and you won't be here to run your life, much less my business.”
“You don't ever give me a break,” Justin says, and I'm not sure whether he's about to go postal or break down in tears, but either way, he's in some kind of hurt and I didn't even have to inflict it. I'm enjoying it, too, even though I think this should be a private moment and it's making me a little uncomfortable.
“All I ever give you is a break, and that's the problem. Both you and your sister don't appreciate anything. I cut off the money and the credit cards and you still don't get it. Maybe taking your car will teach you to value something. To accept responsibility for yourself.”
“But you'd let these thieves walk right up in here,” Justin says, talking more slowly than an angry person should, almost slurring his words. “You treat them better than you treat us. You like them better than you like your own kids.”
“I love my kids, but I don't like who you're turning into. It's my job to set you straight. That's what I'm doing.”
“But Dad . . .”
“Come on. Let's get to school,” Mr. Mitchell says, and I'm sure he's forgotten all about me standing there, because why else would he put all his family business out there for me to see? If Justin wasn't evil and trying to set me up for a crime he committed against his own father's business, and if he wasn't obviously geeked at eight in the morning, I'd almost feel sorry for him. But he's all those things, so the minute he and his father are gone, I try to get some information out of Paulette.
“That was a little intense.”
“You ain't seen nothing. Those two have had some blowups that would shock Jerry Springer. Only thing different is they seem to be more frequent and Stephen—Mr. Mitchell—is getting less inclined to put up with it. It's about time, if you ask me.”
“What do you think increased the arguments? Was it recent ?”
“You know, I think it's been since he met you and Marco. When he told me you were going to start working here, I was expecting you to come in here and walk on water. You both made some impression on him.”
“Really? I mean, we hardly know the guy.”
“I guess after years of dealing with his kids, you and Marco don't have to do much to look like model citizens. You're just the kind of kids he'd want,” she says, and her face changes from angry to wistful. “He's a good man and deserves better than what they give him, which is nothing but a hard time.”
Well, Paulette is full of useful information. We thought Justin had a motive—hating Marco for taking his starting quarterback job. Or maybe Lissa hated me out of loyalty to her brother since Marco and I are a thing. Sort of. It turns out they hate us both because their dad likes us. It probably didn't hurt that he cut off the money and took the credit cards. Now he's taking the car? I'm pretty sure Lissa will be more than embarrassed to be driven to school by her father, especially since he drives a no-frills five-year-old sedan and not the brand-new Escalade she and Justin share.
“I can't believe he's letting Marco and me keep our jobs.”
“That's the kind of person he is. He was so happy when he came in here this morning, thinking things were finally turning around.”
“How do you mean?”
“Justin and Lissa never want anything to do with him unless they want something from him. He tried to take them camping a couple of years ago and you'd have thought he asked them to go serve in the Siberian army. Took them to New York last summer and they only saw him long enough to ask him for money. Then he tried a cruise, because he figured they'd have to hang out with him—where else are they gonna go? But no, they still managed to spend a total of ten hours with him on a seven-day cruise. I tell you . . .”
“But why was he happy this morning?” I say, trying to get Paulette back on track or I'd never get this out of her.
“Oh right, well, like I was saying, they never spend any more time with him than necessary. But Tuesday evening, they both come in here and tell their father how he works too hard and how they want to take him to dinner at his favorite restaurant. You know, that place up in the mountains that serves weird food like ostrich and boar. I don't see who'd want to eat that when you've got a perfectly good steak on the menu or maybe a pork chop. . . .”
“Wait, did you say Tuesday evening?”
“Yeah, Tuesday. I remember because I was preparing payroll and thought, what are these no-good children up to, because I didn't believe for a minute . . .”
“But that's impossible. That was the night of the burglaries,” I say, my whole theory falling apart with just a few words.
“You're right, it was. What's that got to do with anything ?”
“Nothing, Paulette. I've gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Hey, Chanti,” she says when I'm halfway out the door.
“Yes?”
“For the record, I know y'all didn't have a thing to do with those thefts.”
I'm excited she might have some hard evidence that will clear me until she says, “I just have a good feeling about you kids, and my feelings are never wrong.”
Yeah, I got feelings too, but they don't hold up in court.
Chapter 30
W
hen I get back home, I'm hoping Lana is there. I'm ready to tell her about my suspension, tell her everything I know because I'm in too deep and I need help. But she's already left for work, probably on some stakeout, and she isn't answering her phone. Now what? My prime suspects were forty miles from the scene of the crime and have a restaurant full of witnesses. There's something missing to all this. I just need to sort through everything I learned this morning and I'll find it. I do my best thinking outside on the front porch, so I go out there, grateful it's a school day and quiet. No interruptions.
That's when I see the only other person in the world I know might help me figure this out, and not just because she has—had—the mind of a criminal, but because she knows what it's like to be falsely accused. MJ drives by in her grandmother's car and looks at my house. I know she sees me, but she acts like she didn't and turns away. I start heading for her house, and reach it just as she's getting out of the car.
“I ain't got nothing to say to you, Chanti.”
“MJ, I need some help. There's no one I can go to.”
“How about your mother? Isn't that what the cops do, serve and protect? You got your own personal Five-O right there in your house. Oh wait, should I be whispering? It's a secret, right?”
I consider MJ a friend and all, but I won't have her putting my mother's job and life in jeopardy.
“Never mind,” I say and turn to go back home.
“Wait a minute. I heard about what went down.”
“And?”
“And I know you didn't do it.”
“Why? Don't tell me you got a good feeling. I need some hard evidence.”
A look crosses MJ's face that tells me she does have more than a good feeling.
“You know something, don't you?”
“How would I know anything about some job that went down in a neighborhood I never been to, couldn't even tell you where it is on a map? What do I know about some rich people?”
I just stare at her, knowing she's full of it, trying to will her to break.
“Besides, like I told you the last time we talked—I ain't no snitch.”
“Yeah, but you know what it's like to go to jail for something you didn't do. I'd help
you
.”
“Help me go to jail.”
“How do you know it wasn't me who helped us get out that night? How do you know I didn't use my connections?” It's a leap, but I figure I'll take it because I've got nothing to lose.
“I didn't get arrested that night 'cause they didn't have anything on me. Stop trying to perpetrate like you're my friend. You narced on me and got my cousin sent to jail.”
“MJ, you know that's a lie. Your cousin got himself sent up. I didn't know anything about your cousin.”
“So your mother just happened to be there, just happened to be the one who broke into that room just when he was measuring out some product for his customer.”
“Think about it, MJ. All you told me that night was that you wanted to go visit your cousin. Before that, I'd never even heard of him. The cops were watching him long before you asked me for that ride. Unless you left something out when you asked for that small favor, you didn't even know he was dealing.”
She doesn't have a response for this, and just starts taking groceries out of the trunk.
“Wait. You knew? And you asked me to drive you to a drug deal?”
“I was just going to visit while he was passing through. I didn't know he'd be doing business while I was there.”
“So how do you expect
I
knew anything if you didn't? Never mind. I've got my own problems to deal with. I don't have time for this,” I say, turning to leave.
“Hold on. What did you need my help with?”
“You can't help me. Well, actually you can, but I get it.
MJ ain't no snitch
.”
I walk away because if anyone should be mad, it's me. She knew by asking me to give her that ride she was getting me into some potential trouble, and she let me. She got Lana mad at me all summer, not trusting me—making me quit my job and have to go to Langdon. She has information that might help me and she's holding out on me because of some stupid street code. Lana was right. For someone who thinks so much like a cop, I've got bad judgment. But I never thought that was true about people. I always thought I knew people. Now MJ has shot my confidence to hell.
 
I'm on the porch at three o'clock, still trying to work things out. Since my conversation with MJ, I'm back to Justin and Lissa being the best suspects, even if they were eating ostrich and boar forty miles away. It only means they had a partner. My first thought was Annette. I've seen her steal myself. But I've ruled her out. She has a shoplifting habit, but I don't think she's smart enough for Justin and Lissa to trust her to be in on their scheme at a deep level. Besides, witnesses say they saw a black or Hispanic male loading the Mitchell van, who the cops assumed was Marco helping me.
But they never actually saw a girl. The cops picked me up because the merchandise stolen matched the exact items on my inventory list, my prints were all over the house, and they found my wallet. I had access to the keys. That takes me back to Malcolm, who also had access to the keys, the list, and possibly my wallet. He's a brown-skinned male. But he has an alibi, so he claims. I should have asked Paulette about him while she was so generous with the gossip. Now I'm just going in circles, coming up with nothing, so I distract myself with the arrival of Ada Crawford, who lives across the street, three doors down from Tasha. She pulls up in her recently acquired Lexus SUV, custom metallic gold paint with gold twenty-two-inch spinners and gold medallions. If you can't
be
gold, drive it.
When Tasha and I first noticed how large Ada was living without a job and then saw all the strange men who come and go out of her house at all hours, we thought she was running a crack house. But Donnell would never allow competition on the block and none of the men looked like crackheads. They were well-dressed, drove nice cars. That's when we deduced Ada was a professional, if you know what I mean. When I asked Lana about her a year ago, she confirmed it.
“So why don't you arrest her?”
“She's small time. What we want are her customers. We'll let her build up her clientele first. It'll be the easiest bust I ever make—run the stakeout from the house, then have some uniforms knock on the door.”
“What's up with them? Who are they?”
“Nothing you need to know. I already said too much. Ada's harmless, but you keep away from her house.”
Right, like I'd ever want anything to do with Ada. But I'm not hating that car she's driving. That's when I remember something. Mr. Mitchell cut off the bank flow to Lissa and Justin about the time school started, and she's still carrying a brand-new Fendi bag and buying Il Mare face cream. She could have used the five-finger discount to get it like her girl Annette, but Justin can't shoplift pot. Or whatever he's on. And they both act like getting a job would be the equivalent of being a scholarship kid. Unthinkable. So how are they living so large? They must be stealing stuff and selling it.
But they can't be in two places at one time, so they must be tipping off a partner on what to steal, and then giving them access to the goods. That way Lissa could buy Bethanie and the clones dinner the night of Annette's party, while the partner could rob Annette's place. That way they can out-of-the-blue take their father for an ostrich steak while those two client homes were being hit. That way they always have the perfect alibis.

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