Devilish Details Page 26

  “Thanks, man.” Don turned to Jazz again. “Nice try, but I can tell you weren’t talking about your customers.”

  “You should still be home with the wifey resting, man. You know, eating nutritious meals and getting the royal treatment.” Jazz tugged him until he walked beside her to the office.

  “Stop dropping hints about my ex. We’re not getting back together, and don’t try to distract me. I’m not going to bite,” Don said firmly. He opened the door and let Jazz go in first. Then he closed it.

  “Okay, okay. I tried being matchmaker, but if you insist. Let’s see how creative we can be around those injuries.” Jazz stood on tiptoe to kiss him. She slid a finger inside the waistband of his pants.

  “Soon enough,” Don replied. Still he pulled her close to deepen their kiss.

  “Wow, you don’t need two hands, baby. I can deliver some hot buttered medicine that will heal all your aches and pains,” Jazz whispered.

  “I know you will. But first tell me what you’re up to.” Don stepped back to gaze at her steadily.

  “Stop being such a… cop,” Jazz retorted. She stomped over to her small bar area. She poured cold cream soda soft drink into a mug. Then she fixed herself a vodka and orange juice. “No alcohol for you, young man. You’re still healing.”

  Don accepted the mug from her. He waited until Jazz had her drink and they were both on the sofa before he spoke. “Byron told me he doesn’t trust Tyretta. Seems she’s been acting shady. I gotta wonder why she’s still working here.”

  Jazz stifled a curse word. Showing she was irritated with Byron for talking would be a quick giveaway. She covered her expression with the heavy crystal tumbler as she drank. Then she shrugged. “Byron and Tyretta have always gotten on each other’s nerves.”

  “So nothing specific?” Don followed her lead and drank from his mug as well. His tone sounded casual.

  Jazz wasn’t fooled. Don’s lie detector scanned her despite his laid back expression. “Look, Tyretta has a big mouth. Byron thought she’s been talkin’ too much, which explains how Lorraine got wind of some of my business.”

  “So Byron’s dislike for Tyretta is coloring his judgment? You could be right.” Don’s unwavering dark-eyed gaze stayed on Jazz’s every move.

  “To satisfy Byron I told him to keep an eye on her. Like I figured, he came up with nothin’.” Jazz finished off her drink. “We’ve been tight for a long time. I know her better than Byron. She can be a bitch, but the same can be said of me.”

  “No comment,” Don replied.

  `“Hey, you come in here insulting the owner and you’ll pay the price.”

  Don grimaced dramatically. “Oww-wee, careful. I’m still a wounded warrior.”

  “Big baby. I thought you said your injuries weren’t that bad. And how’d you get over here anyway? I doubt you’re supposed to be driving this soon.”

  Don’s grimace melted into an impish smile. “Lady doc. I charmed her into letting me drive short distances a couple of times a week. I just don’t take those strong pain pills.”

  “You’re straight up nuts, Detective Addison. Following medical advice is a smart move.,” Jazz said with a frown.

  “Nuts is right. Staying inside day in and out is definitely driving me crazy. This is my one and only trip today.”

  “I can’t complain because you came to see me, I’m glad.” Jazz snuggled close and kissed his smoothly shaved cheek. “But you should be in bed, late as it is.”

  “You could tuck me,” Don murmured and placed a large hand on her thigh. “Like you said, it’s late. Let’s go up to your place. Byron can shut the club.”

  Jazz stopped planting kisses on his neck. “I wish, but I gotta be here awhile. Lots of bills to make out and juggle since our daily take dropped. With all the drama the last two weeks, things have piled up. I can’t keep putting it off. And besides, you’d rest better alone.”

  “No I wouldn’t.” Don bent down to brush his lips against her mouth as an argument. He flinched and grunted when Jazz hugged him.

  Jazz stood and took the mug from him. “ You can’t handle me yet, Detective Addison. I’ll work, you’ll go home to sleep.”

  “You’re not trying to get rid of me for some reason?” Don said.

  “Sure I am. So you can heal faster. I’m missing that hard body.” Jazz winked at him with a grin. She placed the mug and her tumbler on a table.

  Don watched her. “Jazz, I…”

  A loud knock was followed by Byron opening the door, a brown folder in one hand. “S’cuse me y’all. I apologize for interruptin’ but I forgot some invoices need signin’. I want to mail those checks first thing in the morning. The beer and chip distributors are restless ‘bout gettin’ paid.”

  “Yeah, I know. See what I’m dealin’ with, honey?” Jazz shook her head.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll let you two take care of business this time. Call me tomorrow.” Don stood.

  “I will. Promise.” Jazz walked to him and accepted his goodbye kiss.

  “Keep her out of trouble my man,” Don said.

  “Always,” Byron replied with a grin.

  With a final wave, Don walked stiffly out of the office. When Byron moved to close the door, Jazz gestured for him to stop. The sound of Don’s heavy footsteps faded. Seconds later, they heard him calling out to the staff. Byron left and came back moments later.

  “He’s gone.” Byron closed the door.

  “You’ve got what they call perfect timing, Byron. If Don had stuck around any longer he’d have known something was up.” Jazz heaved a deep sigh. She went to her desk and sat down.

  “Yeah, well maybe him stayin’ wouldn’t have been a bad thing. We don’t know what might happen tonight,” Byron said, a frown creasing his brow.

  “If Tyretta creeps in here to snoop, I’ll whip her ass myself. I don’t need no police to handle her.” Jazz signed the invoices and wrote out two checks as she spoke.

  Byron went to the windows. He pushed aside the curtains and looked down the alley. “Tyretta ain’t dumb enough to try somethin’ herself. Nah, I’m worried about who shows up because she snitched.”

  “Stop being so jittery. Tyretta will play it cool. If she thinks the place is empty, she’ll let herself in and search it. If she finds me in here, she’ll act like she left something or come up with another lie, and then pump me for information. Then she’ll take call Lorraine. When the fake information comes back, we’ll know for sure she’s a rat.” Jazz handed him the papers.

  “You sound real sure she’s gonna follow that script.” Byron accepted the invoices and checks.

  Jazz lit another cigarillo and reclined against the executive chair back. “Yeah, because that’s what she did to Lorraine.”

  Byron’s head snapped up. “Say what?”

  “Back when I was working at Candy Girls, business started going down. Lorraine let her thug sons, their friends, and Filipe’s gang members ruin the place. There was drug dealing, guns being sold out back. There was a shooting and fights. Pretty soon paying customers stayed away, workers at the plants, solid blue collar guys that make good money. We even had white collar clients. They didn’t want their names or faces on the news when cops raided. Let alone end up getting killed. You know how crazy those thugs get. And that’s when they ain’t drinkin’ and druggin’.”

  “Right, bad situation,” Byron said with a nod.

  “You ain’t lyin’. Tyretta and me was friends. Lorraine started being evil to just about everybody, just like her mama was. I used to talk to Tyretta about wanting to run my own place, but finding the right building would be tough. Tyretta tipped me off to the tax auction, and that Lorraine was facing legal trouble.” Jazz raised an eyebrow at Byron as he rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I never told anybody that until now. I didn’t want Lorraine or her sons to find out.”

  “They would have put some hurt on her for sure. Now you’re in trouble and Tyretta is on Lorraine’s team again. Damn, that’s cold-blooded.
”

  Jazz shrugged and took a pull on the cigarillo. She blew out curls of smoke. “We both could be wrong, and she won’t show up.”

  Byron stood. “I hope you’re right. It’s a helluva tough world, and true blue friends are even tougher to find.”

  “So I’m finding out, Byron,” Jazz said softly. She swung her chair around to gaze at the closed circuit television images. “We’d spot any strangers. She knows the system is working. Tyretta will know a way to slip in.”

  “The outside attempts didn’t work, so now it’s gotta be an inside job.” Byron scowled. “Always worse when the hand holdin’ the knife stuck in your back is somebody you shoulda been able to trust.”

  “You just dropped some straight heavy truth,” Jazz replied. The heat of anger burned through her sentimentality. “So I’m gonna be waiting right here tonight and tomorrow night. It won’t take long. Like you said, Lorraine is desperate.”

  “I’ll leave like I’m goin’ home. Then I’ll double back and keep an eye on the place,” Byron said.

  “Only Tyretta will show and I can deal with her alone, but I’m not going to waste time arguing. You’ll just do it anyway.”

  “We got some time. Rochelle and her brother are still cleaning up. Chyna is gettin’ tables cleared off and the bar set up again. It’s after midnight. We’ll shut down in a minute.” Byron glanced at the monitor. “I’ll shove that last guy out the door. Then I’ll lock up after the ladies are gone.”

  “Okay.” Jazz brushed back her hair. She gazed at the pile of work on her desk. “Might as well knock this stuff out since I’m gonna be here anyway.”

  “Boss, if you don’t mind…” Byron rubbed his jaw.

  “Spit it out. You’ve earned the right to speak your mind.” Jazz gave him a half-grin.

  “Let me in your place. I can watch surveillance feed on the monitors up there. Beats prowling around outside.”

  After the burglaries, Byron had purchased more electronic equipment. A friend of his had connected the cameras to monitors in Jazz’s apartment. Without hesitation Jazz took out a set of spare keys from a desk drawer. She tossed them and Byron caught them with one large hand.

  “If you want to sit up there bored instead of going home, be my guest,” Jazz said. “At least I won’t be worried you’re going to get jumped in a dark alley.”

  “My grandmamma used to say better to watch your back than pull a knife outta it later,” Byron said with a grin.

  Jazz laughed. “Your grandmamma must have lived an interesting life. I’ll have to hear about her later.”

  “You got it.” Byron saluted Jazz and left like a man with a serious mission.

  “Dude is on his job for sure.” Jazz smiled at the image of Byron moving through the dark like a ninja .

  Between sorting through paperwork Jazz glanced at the television screens showing the inside and outside of the club. As he’d said, around twelve-thirty Byron put the last straggler out and locked the front entrance. Tyretta left first, loudly calling out farewells to all. Jazz’s eyes narrowed as Tyretta made it a point to saying she was going straight home. Byron left at almost one o’clock. Jazz watched him lock the side door from the outside and stroll to his Tahoe. Moments later he drove away.

  Despite her brave words to Byron earlier, the silence of the club unnerved Jazz after the first thirty minutes. Her gaze darted back to the monitor showing three views outside the club frequently. The digital time on both screens flashed one forty-five, and Jazz caught herself glancing at the security feed for the tenth time. She gave a grunt of frustration.

  “I need to stop trippin’,” Jazz said. “I let Byron rub off on me.”

  Jazz forced her gaze away from the security monitors, stood, and stretched her muscles. She turned on the sound system. Neo soul music turned low flowed from the speakers. Then she poured another drink, lit a cigarillo, and sat down again. A glance at the small business software on her computer confirmed they were breaking even, but just. Her profits had been up, down, and all over the place. What she needed was stability, or Higgins and the city would get their wish. She couldn’t pay her employees and support herself long-term if that pattern kept up. In fact, the odds were high that the downward trend in cash flow would return. She’d soon be distracted by the trial and the hearings with the city. Sure, she trusted Byron. But she was the owner. No one else could work her dreams into reality. Jazz had developed clear goals in the past six months. She even had a written step-by-step plan to go beyond a strip club. Now her plan had way too many “ifs” written in the margins. The biggest uncertainly of all was the verdict in her looming trial. A twenty-five to life sentence for murder would blow up all of her ambitions.

  After a life of hard-knocks, Jazz couldn’t resist giving in to a morose mood. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock on her computer. Two-twenty . The early morning hours always made life seem bleak. A couple of distant bumps in the night broke through deep thoughts of her hard childhood. Jazz blinked back to her all too real present and looked at the monitors. Both had gone blank.

  “What the hell?”

  Jazz shot to her feet. Her heart pounded so hard it almost drowned out another bump. She sat alone in a locked club, blind, and with no back-up. Then she fought to control her fear.

  “Byron,” she whispered. Breathing hard she texted him. “C’mon, c’mon. Oh shit this is stupid.”

  She dialed his cell phone and got voice mail. Her heart rate speed up until blood rushed in her ears. A tidal wave of panic made it hard to breathe. The late hour and tension had to be playing tricks on her mind. No one could be in the club.

  “He’ll will text or call back in a minute,” she mumbled in an attempt to reassure the scared voices in her head.

  But minutes seemed like forever and still no reply from Byron. Jazz considered going into the club, but decided against it. Moving around alone would make her feel even more vulnerable. She’d imagine someone coming up behind her or hiding around a corner with every step. No, better to stay in the office. With a deep breath, Jazz took the Smith and Wesson .380 from a desk drawer and placed it in her lap. When the office door knob turned, Jazz remembered too late she hadn’t bothered to lock it. As if to heighten her terror, the door cracked open and stopped. Anger spiked at the invasion of her hard won property and the intimidation tactic. Without standing, Jazz raised the gun and pointed.

  “Bring your ass in here unless you want me to shoot through the damn door,. If you know me, you know I’m a good shot. I’m gone pull the trigger and put a hole in you.,” Jazz said in a level voice.

  Even as she gave the bold speech, Jazz’s mind raced. Seconds ticked by as she wondered and worried about Byron. Questions popped in her head like blinding flashbulbs. Who? How? What did this unknown person plan? The door swung open. Jazz hissed in shock at the person standing before her.

  Chapter 20

  Lorraine wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt tucked into black slim jeans and carried a Glock pistol in her left hand as an accessory, though it was pointed down Hair pulled back into a single braid, she looked younger than her forty plus years.

  “This bitch right here,” Lorraine said.

  Jazz recovered. Answers clicked into place like wooden puzzle pieces. “Bitch times ten.”

  “Got a gun I see.” Lorraine’s gaze darted left and then right in the split second before she looked at Jazz again.

  Lorraine seemed to be surprised to find her armed. Jazz felt sure Tyretta searched the office for Jazz’s gun, but didn’t find it. For a good reason. Filipe had taught her useful gangsta skills, like how to hide a gun. Jazz felt a kind of calm settle over her. Seeing who she was up against didn’t rattle her the way the unknown had moments before. This kind of danger she understood.

  “You know me. I pack steel on the daily. Obviously I’m right cause you’re carryin’, too. So you were the brains all along. I was thinkin’ your sons were runnin’ the gang. They were just ordinary thugs with big ideas. Easy enough t
o let everybody think they were in charge,” Jazz said. “Nah, they didn’t have the brains to make the moves you did.”

  “I have admit my boys ain’t never been the brightest bulbs on the tree. So you think you got it all figured out, huh? Too smart for your own good.”

  “Kyeisha figured it out, too. So she had to go.” Jazz reassessed how much danger she was in. Lorraine calculated every move. She wasn’t just dumb and desperate.

  “Humph, Kyeisha was greedy. That turned out to be hazardous to her health. She figured out you still had my property and tried to sell it to my son. Some damn nerve, huh? Charging me big bucks for my own shit.” Wrath flickered in Lorraine’s brown gaze for a second.

  “Too bad for Kyeisha. Now I gotta ask why you dressed like a burglar and up in my place at two-thirty in the damn morning?”

  Lorraine shrugged and gave an apologetic grin. “I know the timing of my visit is strange, but it’s kinda urgent.”

  “You must not watch those forensic shows on TV. You don’t write down your shit for people to find.”

  Lorraine’s smile faltered before she plastered it back in place. “Nothin’ but a bunch of old notebooks with receipts in them. I got tax troubles, so I need that stuff. I thought you threw it out. Now the tax man gonna say I lied.”

  “So instead of calllin’ me like a normal human being, you decide to break in with a gun? C’mon, Lorraine. The lie is bad enough, but thinking I’m stupid is insultin’,” Jazz smiled back, but let it freeze into a sneer. She lifted her gun slightly.

  “None of it means anything to you, or ever will. Look, just give me the notebooks and I’ll call off the dogs,” Lorraine forced out when Jazz didn’t respond after fifteen long seconds of silence.

  “Explain, but first relax while I come around the desk to hear you better.” Jazz kept the gun pointed at Lorraine’s chest.

  “Okay.”

  Jazz continued to aim straight at her as Lorraine inched a few feet past the doorway. She glanced down at her cell phone hoping to see a text from Byron. The blank screen signaled bad news. “Explain in detail what call off the dogs means. This time I give you permission to assume I’m a slow learner.”