Devilish Details (27 page)

“I’m going back to band practice. I just
came to drop the sprout off since grandmamma couldn’t pick her up.
I should be back by dinner at six or six thirty. But first, I’ll
grab a snack to go.” Anthony waved and strode out again.

“Bye, and be careful. He hardly waits to let
me get it out,” Willa complained.

“He’s a man, and they don’t like being
babied.” Jazz covered a yawn with the back of one hand. “And no,
I’m not going to take a short nap.”

“About our conversation at the hospital, I
apologize. That was my clumsy attempt to... I don’t know.” Willa
hung up a new soft terry cotton robe in a closet, also over Jazz’s
objection.

“Speaking of babying…” Jazz raised both
arched eyebrows at her. “If you show up with any more clothes for
me, we’re going to fight.”

Willa stopped fussing about the room. She
faced Jazz. “You’re right. I need to remember that you’ve been
making your own decisions since you were fourteen. Anyway, like I
was saying about back at the hospital.”

“Stop with the guilt and trying too hard. I
made my own life, which I kinda like by the way.

Well, minus the former acquaintances trying
to kill me take everything I own, and send me to jail for murder .
Other than that, life is fabulous,” Jazz said with a snort.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Higgins isn’t in
on trying to snatch Candy Girls. I’m going to dig deep on him until
we even know his great-granny’s shoe size. Pisses me off so much I
want to hit somebody.” Willa scowled.

“Hey Anthony, your mama wants you,” Jazz
yelled. “Girl, I’ve been beat on enough in the past thirty-six
hours, so don’t look at me.”

Willa burst into laughter. Soon they were
both rolling on the bed giggling out the tension they’d both been
under. Anthony and Mikayla had taken turns peeking into the room,
shaking their heads, and then leaving.

“Damn, we used to have fun those times we’d
go out.” Willa wiped her eyes and fanned her face.

“Yeah, I know all your dirty secrets about
being a bad, bad girl.” Jazz wiggled her eyebrows at her big
sister.

“I sure as hell couldn’t keep up with you,”
Willa shot back and they started laughing again. “Seriously, we
have to take care of Higgins.”

“You know a hit man? Cause if you don’t, I
could...” Jazz used her right hand to point like a pistol.

Willa glanced over her shoulder sharply and
jumped to her feet. She closed the bedroom door. “Shut up with the
gangsta jokes. The kids might hear us and think you’re for
real.

“I’m only half joking. Yeah, I thought about
him coming to the jail with that contract. But to be honest, I had
my back against a hard wall. I would have needed help eventually,”
Jazz added to head off Willa’s complaint. “Putting your house and
business on the line was a dumb idea.”

“Gee, you’re welcome. You must be getting
better,” Willa quipped. Then she frowned again. “I talked to
Cedric, and he’s sure your defense lawyer is legit. In fact, he’s
taking all the right actions to prepare for your trial.”

“Well that’s good to know. Saving Candy
Girls won’t help if I’m in prison until I’m seventy years old.”
Jazz rubbed her temples to ward off a headache.

“Nah, in your fifties if you get twenty-five
years for second degree murder,” Willa murmured as she gazed off in
thought. Her paralegal training kicked in.

“Wonderful, I’ll sure sleep better tonight.”
Jazz lay against the fluffy pillows Willa had piled up for her.

Anthony knocked and came in. “Moms, a cop is
here to see Aunt Jazz.”

“I’ll take care of this.” Willa stood with a
scowl. She stomped past Anthony.

“Feeling sorry for the dude,” Anthony joked.
“See ya. I got to go.”

Jazz blew him a kiss. “Bye sweetie.”

Once Anthony withdrew, Jazz was tempted to
go watch her sister in action. Where Jazz’s temper was all fire,
Willa turned cold as ice. She could tongue lash folks without a
cuss word or raising her voice. Vivienne used to say Willa would
get her butt kicked faster than Jazz ever would. Yet the comfy bed
kept Jazz in place as if the memory foam mattress was a magnet.
When the door eased open she was stunned to see Don. His left arm
was in a sling. When he entered the room, his gait seemed
stiff.

“Your sister made sure I knew this visit
couldn’t last longer than thirty minutes. Forty if I don’t upset
you.”

He leaned down and gently kissed her on the
lips. Jazz had no memory of lifting her face to accept it either.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, both sighed. T He pulled
up the upholstered chair in the room until it was closer to the bed
and sat down. He held both her hands in his.

“Thanks for coming. Wait a minute. I’m
pretty sure you’re not supposed to be driving,” Jazz said.

“Nyla dropped me off. I’ll get a cab home
from here.”

“Your ex-wife drives you to see another
woman. Well I’ll be damned. Thought I’d met some smooth operators,
but you’re in a class of your own, playa.” Jazz raised an eyebrow
at him.

“We’re still friends, and not only because
of the kids. We’ve known each other since high school. Nyla’s a
good person.” Don wore a half-smile at the look Jazz gave him.

“So I keep hearing. Practically invented
peace and love according to some sources,” Jazz wisecracked. She
fidgeted with the embroidered edge of the soft, green and beige
pretty bedspread.

“We’re not getting back together, Jazz. We
work great as friends and parents. We’re a ten car pile-up as
husband and wife,” Don said with a laugh.

“Hey, you don’t owe me any explaining. None
of my business,” Jazz said and tried not to look as pleased as she
felt. She heard the truth in her voice. A woman who was still
hanging on wouldn’t agree to drive her ex to see his current
lover.

“I’m going to put Armand in a choke hold for
talkin’ trash to you,” Don said. “Don’t bother to tell me. I can
pretty much guess what he said.”

“You got the lecture on staying away from me
and how you should be with Nyla. Right?”

“He talked to Nyla, too. She said he looked
so hurt when she started laughing at the idea. She told him, ‘One
bullet is no reason to ruin a good divorce’.” Don burst out
laughing. When Jazz giggled he squeezed her hand.

“So we’re good?” Jazz squeezed back. “Nobody
said we weren’t.”

His expression turned serious. “Shit is
still goin’ down. Byron says somebody tried to break in Candy Girls
and your house twice. The alarms scared them off. He’s got them on
video, but their faces were covered.” .”

“Any marks or tattoos?”

“Both wore long sleeves, but one had
something on the back of a hand. Looked like roman numerals, but
it’s not real clear,” Don said. “Mean something?”

“Yeah. Some Latin gangs get those in
prison.” Jazz frowned. Another link to Filipe’s boys.

“Damn, you’re right. I did a sketch. I’ll
get one of my buddies at the station to run it. These muscle
relaxers must have my brain fuzzy.”

“You would have put it together,” Jazz said
with a smile. She was getting used to thinking of them as a team.
She had to decide if that was good or bad. Don’s voice broke into
more musing on the subject of them as a couple.

“I can’t find any noise about Filipe pulling
strings from behind bars. So this is one of his crew making a mark
for himself maybe. But why break into your place? You’d tell me if
there was more, right?” Don stared at her hard.

For a split second Jazz considered spilling
about the missing money MiMi so desperately wanted to find. “I
can’t think of anything.”

She didn’t need to pull Don into anything
more with Filipe. Besides, his good cop instinct might lead him to
calling up the feds and leading a joint investigation. Anyway, it
was technically MiMi’s money to hear her tell it. Though Jazz felt
she’d earned at least a few hundred thousand for putting up with
Filipe’s psycho ass.

“Okay.” Don gazed off into space, his mind
working.

Jazz didn’t want him thinking too hard or
long about her answer. After all, Don was no dummy. “Filipe was the
brains, so I’ll bet some of his guys are freelancing to make ends
meet. Lorraine could have hired them.”

“I don’t get why though. And another thing,
and don’t get mad at him,” Don said pointing a finger at Jazz.

“What?”

“Byron, um, entertained a pretty lady in the
storeroom one night,” Don said.

“I figure he’s used that cot more than once.
He’s fixed up that room so it looks like a hook-up spot.” Jazz
chuckled.

“Compete with a compact player and soft
lights. He’s even got several boxes that he covers with a table
cloth. Damned if it doesn’t look like a coffee table,” Don replied
with a grin.

“His girlfriend will wring his neck one day.
I’ll talk to him. We don’t need the drama right now.”

“Here’s the thing. Last night she showed up
at the club. As usual they ended up going to his spot. He went out
to check on things, and when he got back, she was gone. He caught
her searching your office,” Don said.

“Trying to get in the safe?” Jazz
frowned.

“When he walked in she was trying to pry
open the file cabinet against the wall. Guess she didn’t have time
to find the safe.”

Jazz stared into space, thinking. “Um.”

“I guess Lorraine or Cleavon figure throwing
everything they’ve got at you will work faster. When is your trial
date?”

“Phillips says they’ve got more discovery
and pre-trial hearings, but it could be in November.” Jazz rose
from the bed with help from Don. “I want some air. I’ve been cooped
up in four walls too much lately.”

“Sure babe.”

He walked beside her until they got to
Willa’s large den. A sliding glass door opened onto a covered
patio. Heat from the May afternoon sun beamed down, a taste of the
scorching Louisiana heat that was to come. Willa’s backyard was
predictably well kept. A large magnolia tree shaded one corner of
the lawn. The rest was grass suitable for kids to play without
barriers. Several large potted plants decorated each end of the
patio. Don helped Jazz settle into one of five chairs around a
round glass table. Then he eased down in the one next to her.

“Nice day,” he said.

“Did you have a house like this once with
your wife?” Jazz looked at him.

“Not this big on our income. She stayed at
home for a while, but we couldn’t afford it after the second baby.
But yeah, we had a yard in front and back.” Don glanced around. The
roofs of nearby houses could be seen over the wooden privacy fence.
“Nice neighborhood.”

“Right place to have a family. But I
couldn’t stand it for long. What I’m trying to say is...”

Don held up a palm. “I used to think
white–picket-fenced suburbia would cleanse me after days on the
job. Seeing the worst in people leaves a stain, ya know? I mean the
blood, guts, downright brutality soaks in deep.. Nyla couldn’t take
the darkness and, I couldn’t leave it at the door like she wanted.
So if you’re asking if I’m going to regret replacing that life, the
answer is no.”

“I kinda know what you mean. Certain things
change you in ways you might not like, but... it is what it is.”
Jazz gave a short laugh. “Something is seriously wrong with us,
man.”

“Nyla says some people are dumped into bad
stuff, and some, like me, deal with it to hold back the night. As
long as a person doesn’t become the darkness, then they’ll be okay.
Always understand the line between living with it and
being
it.”

Don and Jazz gazed at the lovely normal life
like tourists in a place other than home. Both sat content to let
the only sound be the breeze rustling leaves. Jazz put on a
lopsided grin. She playfully tapped him on his massive bicep.

“Damn, you’re gonna make me like your
ex-wife. As if I’m not screwed up enough,” Jazz wisecracked.

Don laughed hard until he winced in pain.
Willa joined, and a minor tug of war ensued. Don surrendered to
Willa’s logic that calling a cab was a waste when she could drive
him home. Once they were gone, Jazz continued to sort through the
puzzle that her life had become.

“Lorraine has somebody trying to break in?
That doesn’t make any sense,” Jazz murmured as she dozed off.

* * *

The next day Jazz woke up in hell. Willa had
flat out refused to drive her home, insisting that Jazz stay and be
taken care of properly. When Willa’s aunt came into the guest
bedroom with a tray of breakfast, Jazz tried shrinking under the
covers. It didn’t work. Aunt Ametrine knew she was still there. The
fastidious church lady was in full force.

“I made you a bowl of grits, fried an egg
the way you like it, and buttered up some whole wheat toast. Willa
says you like coffee strong enough to make the spoon stand up in
the cup.” Aunt Ametrine set the tray down on the chaise lounge
across from the bed. “Let me help you into the bathroom so you can
wash up. I set clean underwear and another sweat suit out for
you.”

Jazz blinked at her in horror. She waved
away the sturdy hand offered to her. “I can take care of
myself.”

“Nonsense, you might fall. The most deadly
accidents happen in the bathroom. I read that in a magazine just
the other day.” Aunt Ametrine expertly helped Jazz walk across the
hardwood floor to the pretty tile of the bathroom. “But I
understand. Don’t try to stand in that shower too long.”

“Thanks,” Jazz managed to get out.

Aunt Ametrine kept up a stream of advice
through the closed door. The sound of the shower didn’t deter her.
After five “Are you okay in there?” shouts, Jazz gave up the notion
she’d leave. She got dressed in the fresh clothes and went back to
the bedroom.

“The food is still hot. This is a warming
tray. See? I just unplug it and now I can put it across your lap.
Oh, it won’t burn you,” Aunt Ametrine said the second Jazz
reappeared.