CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I hope you do get it!” I cry, though if Jasmine is the one who strangled Peppi, that’s a lie. “I’m just pointing out that it may be complicated.”
Tia slaps her thigh. “Donyell won’t want to hear complicated, Jaz! He hear that, he’ll wring your neck!”
Shanelle arches her brows in my direction. Boy, do we have a lot to dissect now.
Jasmine looks like she’s about to spit fire. “I am calling my lawyer.”
“On Sunday night?” Tia cries.
“With the retainer I pay that jackass, he better answer whenever I place a call.” She slams down her cocktail. “I do not mean to be rude but this party is over. It is time for you ladies to bounce.”
Trixie pipes up. “May I use the restroom before we go?”
“Fine.” Jasmine grabs her cell phone and gestures toward the east forty. A second or two later she looks up from her phone. “Not there, there!”—and she points to a corridor Trixie walked right past.
Instead Trixie is peering into a room I can’t see. “Sorry,” she says and makes for the correct location wearing a befuddled expression.
“Mitchell?” Jasmine says into her phone. “You better damn well know every single law in the state of Florida because I have a buttload of questions I want answered.”
As Jasmine stalks out of the living room, I insinuate myself next to Tia and signal the bartender to top off our drinks. Tia doesn’t seem to notice that she’s the only one still imbibing. “I can’t believe that girl Peppi wasn’t keeping up her end of the bargain with the boutique!” I hiss.
Tia shakes her head. “From day one she kept telling Jaz that when her daddy passed, she’d have plenty of dough. But now her daddy’s still breathing and she’s dead and gone and where does that leave Jaz?”
“Did she owe Jasmine a lot?” Shanelle asks.
“I don’t think she put up a dime! And Jaz had to lease that place, she had to fix it up, she had to buy the inventory, she had to set up all manner of advertising … not to mention everything she had to dole out for the launch party Tuesday night.”
“I get the impression Donyell isn’t happy about the boutique,” I say.
Tia harrumphs. “He thinks Jaz got no business running a business! All he wants her to do is be nice and friendly while he’s around. Pop out a few babies someday. And dress up real pretty when he wants to go out. He doesn’t want her running through his cash with some boutique!”
Shanelle and I exchange a look. I bet she’s wondering the same thing I am: not only where Jasmine was Friday noontime, but where Donyell was, too.
Tia goes on. “Now Donyell might choose to be lenient about that boutique so he can make up for a thing or two on his end.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I can guess.
“Well … let’s just say he told Jaz more than once that every so often he has a need to satisfy and that’s what he go do.”
“With Peppi?” I ask.
“Back in the day. As for the here and now?” Tia shakes her head. “I don’t think even Jaz can answer that question.”
I relax against the sofa cushions pondering this latest 411. “Well, I know what my husband would say if I went into business with somebody and they didn’t keep up their end of the deal.”
“I’d never hear the end of it from Lamar,” Shanelle says.
Tia giggles. “Don’t you girls go underestimating Jaz! She’s still got a trick or two up her sleeve.”
“What do you mean?” Trixie wants to know now that she’s returned from her prolonged tour of the penthouse facilities.
Tia gets a tad cagey. “Let’s just say Jaz can be real clever about making money when she wants to be.”
I’m gearing up to probe that tantalizing remark when Jasmine returns, a scowl twisting her features. “What you all whispering about?” she wants to know. It’s clear she’s in no better mood now than she was before she talked to her lawyer. I would not want to be in his wingtip oxfords however large the retainer.
“Oh, this and that.” I stand up. “I hope it was good news from your lawyer?”
Jasmine grunts. “I wouldn’t go that far. And I apologize for cutting the evening short but I have a thing or two on my mind.”
“We totally understand,” Trixie says as we make for the foyer.
“Thanks so much for having us over,” I add. “I hope things are looking up for you by Tuesday night.”
“They better be,” Jasmine says, and if she moved half a beat faster the door would slam on our backsides as we walked out.
We jabber all the way back to Mario’s house.
“Jasmine Dobbs had big-time motive to off Peppi,” Shanelle opines. “For one thing, she suspected Donyell was back to doing the nasty with her. And for another, they started a boutique together and the girl never ponied up a dime.”
“Jasmine seemed really surprised she might not get her money even now,” Trixie says. “Can you imagine how upset you’d be if you killed somebody hoping to get your money and then found out you wouldn’t?”
“Major bummer, as Rachel would say.” I pull out my cell phone. “Since it’s fair to say Donyell Dobbs was no fan of that boutique, let’s see if I can find out where he was Friday.”
“How you gonna find out where Jasmine was?” Shanelle asks.
“I have no idea. Okay. So the Heat had a game in Phoenix that day. And Donyell played,” I report, scanning an article. “He got twelve points.”
“So he couldn’t have done it,” Shanelle says. “I also want to know what the heck Tia meant about Jasmine being clever about making money? Is that girl running an escort service on the side or what?”
“I think she’s doing something with photography.” Trixie punches in the code to open the gate at Mario’s gated community. “When I got lost looking for her bathroom I saw a camera set-up in Jasmine’s dining room with a tripod and a white poster board and everything.”
“That’s bizarre. Whoa.” I have to grip the seat as Trixie swerves to avoid a Mercedes careening toward us. “Wasn’t that Consuela’s car?”
I get my answer when we arrive at the manse to find Mariela in the living room shrieking at Rachel. “Don’t you tell me how to talk to my mother! I want nothing to do with her! Everything that’s wrong in my life is her fault!” She pivots on her heel and pushes past us. “Leave me alone!” she screams before she slams the door to her room.
“I guess Mario left for L.A.,” Shanelle observes.
“What in the world happened?” I ask Rachel.
She shrugs. “Mariela threw a hissy fit over something her mom said and then her mom got mad over something Mariela said and then Mariela’s mom went zooming off.”
“So Mariela’s staying here even though her dad’s gone?” Trixie asks.
“I guess.”
Shanelle, Trixie and I look at each other. “So
we’re
supposed to watch her?” I say. “Get her to school and everything else?”
“I guess,” Rachel repeats, then laughs. “Don’t worry, Mom! It’s not like she’s any trouble or anything.”
“My Lord!” Trixie says. “I cannot believe we are now responsible for somebody else’s teenager!”
Mariela Machado Suave, no less. A handful in skinny jeans if ever I saw one.
Shanelle looks at me. “You best let Mario know about this.”
Great. How am I going to communicate this without Mario thinking I’m once again attacking Consuela? Who, in my opinion, does deserve one heck of a rebuke for leaving her daughter with people she hardly knows.
I call his cell, which goes immediately to voicemail. I leave a message saying that it appears Consuela has left Mariela in our care and to call when he can. I assume he’s in the air so it’ll be a while.
As soon as we’re done feasting on Kung Pao Chicken, Salt and Pepper Shrimp, and Pork Chow Fun—minus Mariela, who takes a plate to her room to dine alone with her sullen self—my father excuses himself from the table. By the time we’ve cleaned up, his bedroom light is off. Maybe all my sleuthing is giving me a suspicious mind, because I think he’s avoiding me.
The next morning over coffee, at dawn’s early light, I settle on the couch in Mario’s media room and break out the DVD Paloma gave me. Trixie appears in her flannel nightgown and I turn down the volume. “Perfect timing!” I say. “This is the nail-polish exposé Peppi did that you wanted to see. Remember we heard about it Friday night on her news show?”
“Let me get some coffee and then let’s watch it.”
Since it’s in Spanish we have to watch it three times to get the gist but thanks to the graphics we figure out that it has to do with the so-called “toxic trio” of dangerous chemicals found in some nail polishes that experts have linked to birth defects, asthma, and cancer.
Trixie’s eyes are wide when we’re done watching the report. “Didn’t Peppi say that some polishes claim they’re free of those chemicals but really they’re not?”
“I think she did. I think she also said they’re banned in Europe. Maybe the U.S. should do that, too.”
“That was a very important report. Did you see how serious Peppi looked when they showed her in the nail salon in front of all those polishes? She wasn’t smiling at all.” Trixie furrows her brow. “This proves Peppi wasn’t just a weathergirl.”
“This wasn’t her only investigation, either. Paloma said she was working on another one.” I sip my coffee. I love this time of day. “Why are you up so early, by the way?”
“Can you believe my boss called? Well, my old boss.”
“At this hour? That’s crazy. Unless she called to give you your job back.”
“I wish!” Trixie’s face falls. “No, it was to ask me questions. Her daughter did a bunch of billing wrong and she wants me to fix it.”
“I hope you told her what she can do with that idea.”
“I told her I’d have to think about it.”
I pat her knee. “Trixie, you have too good a heart.”
“I just don’t want the business to go under! I care about that darn bridal salon.” She brightens. “Did I tell you Shanelle and I picked tangerine and seafoam as the colors for the opening-number outfits? Those were the top two color trends last summer.”
“Perfect. Very Miami.”
“The fabrics we bought are gorgeous! The girls are going to look adorable. I can’t wait to get sewing.”
“Trixie, can I ask you a favor? Could I drive back with you to Charlotte when we leave Miami? I’ll pay for gas and everything. I think it might be good if I see Jason.”
“Did you two have a big fight about your investigation?”
“A medium fight. But if I don’t see him now I might not see him till next month.” I figure I can fly back to Ohio from Charlotte just as easily as I can from Miami. It’d sure be worth a few extra bucks to have some one-on-one time with my husband.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Trixie says. “And I’ll take all the time with you that I can get.” She jumps up. “But right now I want to work out because I know I won’t later. Care to join me?”
“You go ahead.” I hear my father rustling around. I want to nab him before he disappears. Plus I remember from my youth that he was particularly vulnerable to my inquisitions early in the morning and late at night.
I find him at the kitchen island bent over the newspaper with a pen in one hand and a mug in the other. He looks up at me with a start. “You’re already awake? I thought Trixie made the coffee.”
“No, I made the coffee.” I circle behind him and since I’m younger and faster than he is, he can’t hide the newspaper from me. I set my hands on my hips. “Why are you circling real-estate listings?”
I know. That’s a dumb question because there’s only one answer. Even if I hadn’t overheard him yesterday saying things like
It has most of what I’m looking for but there’s a few other areas I want to take a gander at
, I don’t have to be much of a detective to figure this mystery out.
He takes the trouble to concoct a lie. “I’m looking for a condo for my friend Frank. You remember, from the department?”
“You are not looking for a condo for Frank! Now I know why you took Rachel on a Harley tour of neighborhoods. You were scoping out a condo for yourself! And probably another one for Maggie, too!”
The guilty look in his eye catapults me toward another realization.
“Oh my God!” I cry. “Not another condo for Maggie but one for both of you! To live in together! Oh my God!”
