Devilish Details (28 page)

She explained the wonders of the tray she
brought from home. Then she went on to tell Jazz more than she
wanted to know about her husband’s surgery. Of course being the
good Christian wife she was, Aunt Ametrine nursed him to a full
recovery. Jazz wondered if the poor dude was still sane. When Willa
showed up, Jazz wanted to hug her neck and beg to be rescued. Her
older sister’s eyes gleamed with suppressed mirth.

“You feeling okay this morning?” Willa
pursed her lips at the look Jazz gave her.

Aunt Amtetrine piped up. “She’s moving
around real good. A bit slow, but no wonder after being beat like
rug. Bless her heart.”

“Yeah, wonderful,” Jazz replied in a dry
tone.

When Aunt Ametrine stared at her and then
the plate for several seconds, Jazz picked up the fork. She pushed
it into her mouth. Buttery goodness warmed her tongue. The grits
tasted delicious. For the first time, Jazz realized how hungry she
was. As Aunt Ametrine had said, the egg was cooked the way she
liked it. When Jazz sipped the coffee, the rich taste made her sigh
with pleasure.

“I’m glad you like it. Now Willa, if you
have work at the office, I can stay here with Jazz all day.” Aunt
Ametrine turned to Jazz. “I retired six months ago. Thirty years
working for the state as an administrative assistant. My last boss
was the Assistant Secretary of...”

“Thanks, but Willa’s taking me home on her
way to the office,” Jazz broke in before she got Aunt Ametrine’s
full career history.

“No I’m not,” Willa replied.

Jazz glared at her. “We agreed I only needed
to stay overnight.”

“I have to agree with Willa, baby.” Aunt
Ametrine vanished into the bathroom. She emerged with Jazz’s dirty
clothes and towels. “I’m going to put fresh towels in. Be right
back.”

The second her solid steps moved down the
hall, Jazz blurted, “Get me outta here.”

“Don’t be silly. Aunt Ametrine loves taking
care of people.” Willa sat down on the chair. “Seriously, she’s a
kind-hearted person. You have to admit she can cook.”

Jazz remembered the food and tasted more
egg. After savoring rich flavor chased down by the best coffee
she’d had in a long time, Jazz sighed. “Damn, I can’t argue with
you on that. Now if she’d just stick some of this in her mouth and
shut up.”

Willa burst out laughing and then covered
her mouth. “Stop it, she might hear you.”

“Once I finish eating you
will
take
me home.” Jazz scooped up more buttery grits.

“Cedric is holding down the office, so I
don’t need to be there this morning. You should stay another night,
but listen.” Willa wore her familiar determined expression. “We
need to get onto this contract business.”

“I signed the thing of my own free will. End
of discussion. There’s nothing I can do.” Jazz wiped her mouth with
the checked cotton napkin on the tray.

“I’ve gone over the clauses and done
research. Brad says we have several options to make Ames back off.”
Jazz soaked up the last bit of runny yolk with toast. After she’d
swallowed it and more coffee, she put down the cup. “You want to go
after Higgins and Ames on this, don’t ya?”

“Sister, this is my kind of fight. Sitting
across a desk or in the courtroom, punch and jab with the facts
until they’re dizzy.” Willa wore a fierce smile.

“Then do your thing,” Jazz said “Wish we had
more ammunition on my criminal case.”

Aunt Ametrine bustled in. “I started a load
of laundry. I can give the floor a sound dust mopping while it goes
through the cycle. Ah, so you ate breakfast. Good girl.”

“That was some real good cooking, ma’am,”
Jazz said.

“Thank you. And stop this ‘ma’am’ nonsense.
I’m Aunt Ametrine,” she replied briskly with a smile. “I was
listening to the news. They brought up the investigation into
Kyeisha Lathers’ murder.”

“Aunt Ametrine--” Willa frowned at her
aunt.

Aunt Ametrine faced Willa sharply. “You
don’t have to tell me Jazz didn’t kill her. Jazz has her faults.
Like shaking her half-naked backside in front of men for money, or
having criminals for boyfriends. But murder? Nonsense! Now don’t
you worry, sugar. I have you on the prayer list at my church. We’re
gonna pray old Satan back to hell.”

Jazz gazed at her slack-jawed and
dumbfounded before she found her voice. “I, uh, I don’t know what
to say.”

Aunt Ametrine beamed at her. “You’re
welcome, darlin’. Now, I’ll let you two talk. Back in a little
while to get that tray.” She left humming a tune. By the time she
made it to the kitchen, Aunt Ametrine was singing a gospel song at
full volume.

“I need to get outta here,” Jazz blurted
out.

Willa cleared the dishes from the tray. “Oh
keep quiet and listen. I drew up this letter firing Higgins. You
can’t trust him to act in your interest. And here is a letter you
should send to Ames disputing his grab for your property.”

Jazz signed both. “I can’t pay back the
money Ames put up.”

“You don’t have to. Nothing in the contract
says his investment has to be repaid. What is an investment? A risk
the investor takes on a venture,” Willa said, answering her
question before Jazz could speak.

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Willa slipped the signed letters into an
envelope. “I’ll happily deliver the letter to Higgins personally
this morning. Now, is it okay if Brad’s associate Zachary Miles
becomes your new lawyer?”

“You asked first. Usually you just order me
around.”

“Of course you should make the decision.
We’re talking about a business you sacrificed to build. I think you
should fight, but it’s your call.” Willa nodded.

“So this Miles has experience representing
ex-strippers who are charged with murder, and who signed a contract
for bail money but didn’t read the fine print?” Jazz raised both
eyebrows.

“Absolutely,” Willa replied with a grin.
“Seriously, I wouldn’t recommend Zach if he wasn’t good.”

“Then let’s do it,” Jazz said. “Now about
the murder charge...”

“I set up a meeting with Phillips for
tomorrow. It’s time for an update face to face. Over the phone
isn’t enough. I want to set eyes on the guy, read his body
language.” Willa stood. “Mama Ruby says your place is running like
a top. She’s impressed with Byron. No so much with Tyretta. How
good a friend is she?”

Jazz got out of bed with stiff movements.
She crossed to the plate and grabbed the last corner of buttered
toast. “We go back a ways. Why?”

“Mama Ruby says something is off about her.
I trust Mama’s instincts. Maybe we need to run a check on her.”
Willa tapped the envelope in her right hand against one thigh.

“Don’t be doing backgrounds on my friends.
We all have a past, so you could be tied up a while,” Jazz said
with a laugh.

“If you say so. Anyway, I’m headed to the
office.” Willa turned to leave.

“You ain’t leaving me here with the church
lady on steroids.” Jazz started to say more when a burst of “He’s
An On Time God” echoed down the hall.

“You need at least another day of rest. If I
take you home, you’ll be in the club working the minute I drive
off. Byron has things under control..” Willa tucked the envelop
under one arm.

Before Jazz could protest, a wave of
dizziness hit. She stumbled a little. Sore spots all over reminded
her she’d hit the pavement hard. Willa grabbed her by one arm and
guided Jazz until she sat down in the chair.

“Must be those pain pills,” Jazz said.

“Uh-huh. Look, you don’t have to stay in bed
all day. But you should relax. Let us wait on you for another day
at least.” Willa put the tray on the dresser. Then she straightened
up the bed linens until it was neatly made. “I’ll be home about
four o’clock.”

“No, come get me at lunch time. I’ll be fine
by then,” Jazz insisted.

Willa leaned down and kissed her cheek. She
handed Jazz the remote for a twenty-five inch flat screen in the
bedroom. “Watch some television. I’ll see you later.”

Jazz wanted to debate the topic of her
staying longer, but Willa hustled out too fast. Besides, the
cushiony soft chair caressed Jazz’s aching body. She turned on the
television, but her eyes soon drifted closed. Aunt Ametrine started
a second gospel song with just as much energy.

“Willa is gonna pay for this,” Jazz murmured
with her eyes still closed. “She’s got a good voice though.”

Chapter 16

The next day, Wednesday, dawned bright and
cheery. The view outside her defense attorney’s window framed blue
skies and the tops of oak trees. Keith Phillips had an office with
three other attorneys downtown. The stone building was nestled in a
historic neighborhood called Beauregard Town. They waited for
Phillips seated in dark green leather chairs around along oval
conference table of highly polished dark wood Sunshine and a chic
decor clashed with the reason Jazz was there.

“Y’all have a seat. We have coffee set up.”
The efficient blonde legal secretary gave them a professional smile
before she vanished.

“Thanks,” Willa said to thin air. “She moves
fast that one.”

“She’s a pro, didn’t stare at me. I’m sure
she’s read my file. Must be novel having a black stripper accused
of murder in these fancy walls.” Jazz got up and went to the carafe
on an equally polished credenza against one wall. She poured the
strong brew into a china cup. “Have some. Smells like the good
stuff.”

“No thanks. Phillips represented that white
socialite who shot her ex-husband in the shower. Then she drove to
New Orleans for a cocktail party. Turned out she didn’t take talk
of divorce kindly. Next, he represented the man who set fire to his
gay lover’s house. The lover was asleep inside with another younger
man.” Willa snorted. “That’s not the half of it. So I’m pretty sure
his secretary is shock proof.”

“Damn,” Jazz whispered. Jazz took a sip of
coffee and was rewarded with rich flavor.

Phillips strode in. He put down the folder
he carried and shook hands with them . “Good morning, Ms. Vaughn,
Mrs. Crown. I see Leslie has coffee available. Excellent.”

“Colombian blend. Very nice,” Jazz said with
a nod.

“Glad you like it. Let’s get down to it
ladies. I have excellent news. Our pretrial motions have gone well.
The judge ruled that the prosecution can’t bring up Filipe Perez or
the murder investigation of your late husband, Mrs. Crown.”

“My late
ex
-husband,” Willa corrected
him.

“Right. Unfortunately, they can introduce
evidence of your past conflicts with the victim.” Phillips gazed at
Jazz expectantly.

“My motive. Except I got the club, so why
would I need to kill Kyeisha? That doesn’t make sense.” Jazz
frowned at him.

“Yeah, and juries want the motive to make
sense. You had nothing to gain by killing her. Ms. Lathers remained
loyal to Lorraine Taylor. Both were furious you ended up with the
property on McClelland too. But, they have a back-up theory of the
crime.” Phillips wore a serious expression.

“Which is?”

“She had knowledge that could cause you
trouble. The assistant DA hasn’t fleshed out the theory yet.
They’re still digging. What I need from you is anything from your
past they can use against us.” Phillips folded his hands, a
platinum wedding band glistened in the light. “This isn’t the time
to be embarrassed or secretive.”

Jazz looked at Willa. Her sister cleared her
throat. “I wasn’t involved in any kind of crimes if that’s what
you’re asking. I wouldn’t have trusted Kyeisha if I had been. She
has, had, a big mouth. Plus, I knew she was tight with
Lorraine.”

Phillips turned his razor sharp attention to
Willa. Clearly, like any good attorney, he read body language very
well. “Mrs. Crown, you’d like to add something?”

“Well there’s...”

Jazz cut her off. “Lorraine used to let
shady stuff go on at the bar when she had it. Maybe Kyeisha assumed
I kept it going.”

“I see.” Phillips continued to study
Willa.

“We should tell him about the money,” Willa
said.

“Don’t get stupid,” Jazz hissed under her
breath.

“I’m not going into a case with one hand
tied behind my back. Make up your mind, ladies. Tell me everything
or find another lawyer.” Phillips relaxed in his chair as if to say
he was fine either way.

“There’s talk on the street that Filipe has
hidden money,” Willa said. She glanced at Jazz.

Jazz sighed. “Shit. It could be money,
drugs, guns, or all three. Some think I know Filipe’s secrets.”

“But there’s also chatter that Jazz may have
stolen his property,” Willa added. She squinted at Jazz. “Don’t
give me that look. Sounds to me like the DA’s investigators or the
police have heard something.”

“Mrs. Crown is on target. Did Kyeisha
Lathers threaten you, Ms. Vaughn?” Phillips pulled a legal note pad
to him and started writing.

“She pretended to know more than she did. I
could tell she was fishing the first night she came to see me. I
told her I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, which
is the truth. Not that anybody seems to care. My guess? Cleavon
sent her. He thought they could scare the information out of me,”
Jazz said.

“Cleavon...” Phillips glanced up at her.

“Bennett, her latest boyfriend. He was a
murder suspect himself until recently. The next time Kyeisha showed
up was that night at the club. She was begging me to help her,
which is crazy. We weren’t buddies for sure. Somebody did a number
on her, and she was trying to get away.”

“Does Cleavon Bennett have gang
connections?” Phillips looked from Jazz to Willa.

“That’s like asking if Louisiana has
mosquitoes. He’s a thug from way back,” Willa said.

“A family tradition. His daddy, uncles,
brothers, cousins, you name it,” Jazz added.