Pretty Dangerous Page 12

  “Thanks. I don’t have pole dancers by the way. It’s a night club and restaurant,” Jazz replied.

  Adrienne smoothed back her long thick hair. “Even better.”

  Jazz’s gaze narrowed. She marched over to MiMi and held out her arms. Sage leaned out. Jazz took her. “I’m going to get Lil’ Bit upstairs so she can freshen up.”

  MiMi blinked at her. “What?”

  Jazz spoke low. “Before I kick your sister’s ass up in here.”

  “Right, you haven’t seen Sage in a while,” MiMi said loudly before Jazz finished speaking.

  “Thank you.” Jazz tossed a glare at Adrienne over her shoulder before she climbed the stairs.

  Adrienne followed to the bottom of the staircase. “Bye sweetie. Aunt Adrienne will see you soon.” She faced MiMi again. “Listen, you’ve got a lot going on. Why not let Sage come stay with me for a while?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but as you can see I have plenty of support,” MiMi said sharply.

  Willa stepped closer to MiMi until they were shoulder to shoulder. She gave Adrienne a chilly smile. “MiMi has more babysitter’s than Princess Kate in England.”

  “Sometimes family helping out is for the best, no offense,” Adrienne added in her best honey sweet tone with matching smile.

  “We’re family,” Willa said, smile still in place. Her equally sugared tone laced with battery acid came through loud and clear.

  Anger flared briefly in Adrienne’s eyes, but she recovered. “I’ll be going. Next time Sage can stay until evening. That way you can recover from another one of your intense dates with Roderick.”

  “Bye,” Willa said pointedly.

  MiMi shot a warning glance at Willa. Then she steered Adrienne to the front door to avoid a bloodbath. “Thanks again, Adrienne.”

  Adrienne opened the door but spun around instead of leaving. “Next time wait until you get to the parking lot to make a scene, dear sister.”

  MiMi gasped. “How did you…”

  “A friend of a friend saw the whole show. Don’t worry. Shelia is discreet.” Adrienne chuckled.

  In other words everyone in their social circle would know by the time the sun set today. “Oh. No.”

  “Mother and daddy will be quite upset.”

  “Then tell Mother to take one of her pills to calm down. I so appreciate you keeping Sage, Adrienne. Have a good evening, and kiss Brayden for me.”

  “Goodbye,” Adrienne said dryly. She strode to her BMW. Minutes later she drove off with a flip of the hand and a smirk as a going away present.

  “Ding, dong the witch is gone?” Jazz gazed in the direction of the BMW. The taillights vanished when it turned the corner.

  “Yes, and please don’t threaten my sister.” MiMi shooed her inside. She shut and locked the front door.

  “Hey, I threaten my sister all the time. Admit it. You wanted me to take a swing at her.” Jazz pointed a forefinger at MiMi.

  “No, I didn’t.” MiMi went back to the kitchen. Willa played with Sage as she bumped around in her walker.

  “Just a lick, right upside the head. C’mon, say the word and it’s done.” Jazz laughed.

  MiMi giggled as she spun to face Jazz. “Girl, you’re too crazy.”

  Willa leaned down and placed both palms over Sages tiny ears. “Adrienne is a bitch.” Then she took her hands away.

  “Willa!” MiMi put both hands on her hips.

  “Sage didn’t hear. Even if she did, baby girl doesn’t know what it means. Do you sweetie?” Willa tickled Sage on the chin. A baby cute smile was her reward.

  “She’s been super helpful with Sage. So I give her points for being a good aunt.” MiMi shrugged and sat at the table.

  Jazz sat in the chair across from her. “That’s no reason to let her wipe her four hundred dollar shoes on you. She pretty much thinks you don’t take care of Sage.”

  “Adrienne thinks she does everything better than everybody,” MiMi said.

  “Well you shouldn’t be prim and proper. Cuss her out and be done with it. It’ll bring y’all closer, like me and Willa.” Jazz grabbed her mug of coffee. “Tell her, big sister.”

  “Oh yeah, a good profanity laced family fight works wonders as therapy,” Willa drawled.

  “Told ya,” Jazz quipped.

  MiMi shook her head. “My parents are going to find out. Someone Adrienne knows happened to be having dinner and saw us. My parents will be so mad. I try to stay on their good side since they’ve been so helpful. Daddy helped me with expenses a lot.”

  “Which means they get to control you,” Willa shot back.

  “Look, if I found Jack’s money, I wouldn’t have to ask them for anything. If you’re so concerned about their controlling ways then help me find it.” MiMi pressed on when Willa hissed. “Mikayla and Anthony should get their inheritance, too. Jack owes us all that much.”

  “Jack ended up… you know, over that money,” Willa said with a glance at Sage. “And last but not least is Jazz’s gangsta man. If he gets wind Jack ended up with his money, we’re all toast.”

  “Hey, Felipe isn’t my ‘gangsta man’. I don’t know why everybody keeps saying that,” Jazz complained.

  “But did you find checks deposited from that company? No,” MiMi answered while Willa’s mouth still hung open.

  Jazz put the mug down. “Hey, she’s making sense.”

  “I checked with Cedric. Jack had seven major contracts. Well, Crown Protection had them anyway. Plus there were ten smaller ones. On paper the business was doing well, but the business accounts didn’t add up. I think we’ve had it wrong this whole time. What if Jack was stealing from the company?” MiMi looked from Jazz to Willa.

  “Okay, now you’ve stopped making sense. Jack didn’t need to steal from himself.” Jazz picked up her mug again. “I vote for the money being Felipe’s drug cash, a healthy down payment. Felipe paid Jack to look the other way at what really went down at those warehouses Crown Protection was guarding at the Baton Rouge Port.”

  “Jack wasn’t in on the arrangement with Felipe. Remember?” MiMi said, shooting a huge whole in their theory.

  “The cops never found proof one way or the other. He could have taken the money as security, to escape,” Willa said.

  “Okay, I can see it.” Jazz nodded in agreement.

  “No, you’re wrong and the FBI had it wrong. Jack didn’t take drug money,” MiMi said firmly.

  “Again, Jack didn’t have to steal money from Crown Protection. As sole owner he could take money anytime he chose as his salary. Except…” Willa’s voice trailed off.

  “If he didn’t want to pay income taxes, payroll taxes, inventory taxes,” MiMi ticked off each one on her fingers. “Jack had plans to not only expand but to change from a sole proprietorship to a corporation. A board of directors would have meant more scrutiny. I think he planned to stuff his personal account before that happened.”

  “Is she right?” Jazz looked at Willa.

  “He talked about incorporating, but kept putting it off. He said it was hard giving up control,” Willa said.

  “Or maybe he stalled for time while he looted the accounts. Jack always said he’d take care of me and we’d be able to travel more.” MiMi sighed as she thought of past good times.

  Willa snorted. “Oh he traveled alright, just not with you. He bought lots of lingerie and jewelry while he was visiting The Caymans, too.”

  Jazz sucked in air. “Ouch.”

  “Even if he didn’t take gang money, tax evasion and moving cash off shore is against the law. So the FBI would still be after it and you,” Willa said and crossed her arms.

  “Your smart lawyer buddy says it’s tough to prove money is dirty,” Jazz offered.

  “But not impossible, and they probably have leads. Leave it alone,” Willa countered.

  MiMi opened her mouth three times, but closed it. No persuasive arguments came to mind at first. Then she sat straight and looked at Willa. “As one of his heirs, I’m request
ing that the executor of Jack’s estate investigate.”

  “The who?” Jazz blinked at MiMi.

  “Me, that’s who,” Willa said. She threw her head back and groaned as if in agony.

  “She has the duty to settle all debts and questions surrounding his succession, including any from heirs. As we all know, it’s dragged on because of the questions about Crown Protection’s assets,” MiMi added.

  “Check and mate,” Jazz said and blinked at Willa, who whispered an expletive.

  MiMi smiled. “When do we start looking for our money, ladies?”

  Chapter 10

  A week later, MiMi sat at the police station. She glared across a metal table at the two detectives. One, a tall redhead, frowned back. The short blonde wore a sympathetic expression. Detective Drake kept bobbing his head as if he agreed with every protest MiMi made. Harsh florescent lighting in the windowless room meant it could have been midnight or any time of day instead of nine in the morning.

  “I don’t appreciate being interrogated about a crime on foreign soil. I don’t know anything about that man’s murder. Ask Roderick. The victim was his weed man after all.”

  The blonde bobble head gazed at MiMi without a glance at his frowning partner. “We’re following up as a courtesy to the Dominican Republic National Police, ma’am. You’re not being detained or anything like that.”

  “They just need answers, and you were involved,” blunt redhead added.

  Thank goodness MiMi had a flexible work schedule. Kerry or her snitch of an assistant wouldn’t think her absence on a Wednesday morning all that unusual. After forty minutes MiMi decided playing the outraged innocent citizen was a waste of precious energy. MiMi plastered on an apologetic smile.

  “Detective Drake, Detective Forrester, I’m sorry for complaining. I understand you’re doing your job. If I had remembered anything new or helpful. Believe me, I’d tell you. ”

  “Humph.” Forrester, let the soft grunt deliver his message of skepticism.

  MiMi continued to focus on Drake, the good cop. “I’m a hardworking single mother who chose the wrong vacation date.”

  “How long have you known Mr. Jefferson?” Detective Drake asked as if they hadn’t asked her the same question in at least four different ways already.

  “Our families have known each other for years, since we were in middle school at least. We dated briefly in high school, but it wasn’t serious.” MiMi tapped a finger on the purse in her lap.

  “So the trip to the DR was planned or a last minute thing?” Detective Drake pressed on in a calm yet relentless way.

  “We decided maybe a month before. Look, I’m sure Roderick can tell you where he first met this poor man. I wasn’t even with Roddy, I mean Roderick, when he went to buy the marijuana. You must know all this from the Dominican court records.”

  “You’ve seen Mr. Jefferson several times since coming back, right?” Detective Forrester cut in sharply.

  “Yes.”

  The interview room was about the size of her walk-in closet at home. The matching chair was slightly comfortable. She was between the two men. One to her left the other to her right. To get to the door, MiMi would have to slide sideways past Forrester. So she was hemmed in, or supposed to feel that way despite the ‘you’re free to go anytime’ speech. Drake asked a few more questions which MiMi answered as her mind worked.

  “Mr. Jefferson works for the family business, correct?” Drake said, looking at a note pad.

  MiMi snapped out of auto pilot response mode. She noticed something significant. “If you’re investigating Jefferson and Son, Inc. deals, then you’re wasting even more time. I only know Roderick socially.”

  “Why do you think we’re investigating his business?” Forrester leaned both elbows on the table.

  “The FBI paid me a visit and implied they were looking into him. I’m sure they talked to you,” MiMi shot back.

  “Your father does business with the Jeffersons,” Forrester said, a statement not a question.

  “Then you should talk to him after you have a long talk with Roderick. Let me save y’all some time, okay? I’ve never worked for my father or conducted business with Roderick. So for the fifth time at least, talk to Roderick. Stop harassing me.”

  MiMi didn’t think she needed to add the part about getting a lawyer. She slipped the strap of her purse over one shoulder and stood. Drake and Forrester stood at the same time, but only Drake spoke.

  “Ms. Landry, Roderick Jefferson was found dead last night.” Drake’s smooth voice didn’t match the rough news he’d just delivered.

  Her legs went weak. MiMi dropped back to the vinyl cushioned metal chair. “But, but that can’t be. He’s healthy, works out twice a week at least.”

  “Do you know anyone else who had a grudge or a problem with him?” Drake said. His cool gray eyes gazed at her with interest.

  “No, I mean, of course not. I can’t believe this.” MiMi swallowed against the acid sensation in her throat. She took in three deep breaths and let them out. The detectives kept quiet, but she knew it wasn’t out of concern. They wanted to observe her. “How did he die?”

  “We’re waiting on the coroner’s report,” Drake said.

  “Where were you between Tuesday evening at around six until this morning,” Forrester asked as Drake picked up his note pad.

  MiMi fought to focus on her surroundings. She ignored the questions screaming inside her head. A dizzy spell threatened and she gripped the cold edge of the metal table. Both detectives sat again, as if they expected to spend a lot longer with her. What would Jazz do? MiMi had seen her face down cops, prosecutors and judges without breaking a sweat. Yes. MiMi needed to think her way through it, use the scant information the detectives had given her.

  “You said ‘who else had a grudge’ which means two things. His death wasn’t natural or an accident, and you think I had something against him. How did he die?” MiMi forced a composed tone that she damn sure didn’t feel.

  “You two fought a few days ago when you found out he was with another woman. You made quite a scene in a local restaurant. Took a swing at the guy,” Forrester replied.

  “Yes. Roderick hooked up with another woman. I told him he was dead to me.” MiMi sucked in a sharp breath. “I only meant he no longer existed, that I’d pretend he was…” Forrester’s almost joyful expression confirmed he was ready to bring out the handcuffs.

  “You were angry. Emotions flare hot when it comes to a relationship gone wrong,” Drake said in his reasonable ‘I understand perfectly’ way.

  “The woman had the nerve to send me a video for God’s sake. So I lost it, told him off. That’s all.” MiMi looked at him, but there was no real help from that corner. His next words proved it.

  “So I’m assuming this video was, let’s say explicit, that it showed them in an intimate situation,” Drake continued, taking notes.

  “Yes. Now I’ve answered you for over an hour. I cared about Roddy despite what happened. At least tell me how he died,” MiMi said, her voice rising steadily.

  “He was struck over the head twice, and shot. In the chest,” Drake replied quietly.

  “Yeah, through the heart,” Forrester added. He stared at her. “So seems like it was personal.”

  “Roderick tried to convince me that she was a fling, that it didn’t mean we couldn’t become engaged. But I wouldn’t have…” MiMi’s fingers hurt from gripping the table. She let go, tried to center herself and channel some of Jazz’s badass persona.

  “Very much a shock I imagine,” Drake put in.

  “You must have been furious. I mean, the guy does that to you and then suggests you just get over it. His other woman throws their affair in your face, he goes ‘No biggie’. All this after he got you arrested, and you forgave him. I can see why you lost it, like you said.” Forrester stared at her.

  His gaze wasn’t hostile nor was his tone confrontational anymore. No, he seemed like more like the unemotional executioner leadi
ng her to doomsday. Except she wasn’t going. Not today. Not ever.

  MiMi narrowed her gaze at him to help send her message. “I’m not going to say anything more until I speak to my attorney.”

  ****

  Five hours later MiMi allowed herself to freak out. She paced around Willa’s office at Crown Protection ranting about police brutality, racial profiling and injustice. Willa and Cedric, Willa’s second in command, let her go until she ran down. When MiMi collapsed onto one of the leather chairs, Cedric placed a large steady hand on her shoulder. Coffee, a glass carafe of fruit juice and a tray of sandwiches were set up on the table in a corner of Willa’s spacious office. Willa filled a glass and brought it to her. MiMi promptly burst into tears at the caring gesture. A box of tissues appeared in front of her. MiMi yanked out two fistfuls and pressed them to her face.

  “Daddy won’t pay my bail or for a lawyer this time. They say I killed one of his business partners. Which means Daddy won’t make piles of money with the Jeffersons. He’ll never forgive me.” MiMi went back to bawling into the tissue.

  “What the…?” Cedric perched on the edge of Willa’s desk.

  “Money means a lot to the Landry clan. She thinks her parents don’t care about her.” Willa gave him the abbreviated version of MiMi’s issues in a crisp tone, like a therapist. She pulled a chair next to MiMi, sat down and rubbed her back. “Honey, you need to calm down. I don’t think your father is that cold blooded.”

  MiMi wiped her face with the wad of tissue. She frowned at the black mascara and foundation that came off. “You don’t know him like I do.”

  “I know a little something about parents who eat their young.”

  “Hey, we need MiMi to pull it together,” Cedric put in.

  “I’d love to say my parents only seem unfeeling on the outside, and underneath they’re warm and cuddly, loving parents. I’d be lying. Mother rarely visits Sage.”

  “You should be grateful then,” Willa said flatly. “Don’t give me that look, Cedric. Better to have an absent cold grandmother than to have her messing up the next generation.”