Devilish Details (31 page)

“I think we have a good shot at knocking
holes in the DA’s circumstantial evidence. Ms. Lather’s led a
pretty... colorful life,” Phillips said. “I’d tell you if there was
reason to worry.”

“The recent attack on you adds weight to our
alternative theories. Bennett could be behind that as well,”
Blanchard put in.

Jazz barked a short laugh. “Gee, glad I
could help.”

“No, I didn’t mean you getting attacked was
a good thing,” Blanchard stammered, turning a shade of bright
pink.

“Don’t worry, she knows. Jazz has a dry
sense of humor. How long have you been at this firm?” MiMi beamed
at him, batting her long eyelashes.

“Three years,” Blanchard said, his face
going to a darker shade of pink. He gazed at the curve of MiMi’s
breasts beneath the clingy royal blue sweater she wore.

“Ahem, back to my case,” Jazz cut in. She
eyed MiMi, who blinked innocently but said no more.

“The hearing is in three weeks. Lorraine
Taylor, Bennett, and several others are listed as witnesses,”
Phillips said as he neatly arranged his file on Jazz’s case.

“Great, I get to see those liars in full
effect,” Jazz retorted with a grimace.

“On to another topic which might seem
unrelated, but isn’t. Have you resolved this issue with Higgins
representing you? The DA knows about it. He could try to somehow
connect it to a motive to kill Kyeisha Lathers.” Phillips glanced
from Jazz to Willa and back again.

“I’ll bet Lorraine filled him in,” Jazz
said.

“How would she know?” MiMi blinked at
her.

“Yes, how would she know details about your
business deal with Ames?” Willa raised an arched eyebrow at
Jazz.

Jazz stared straight ahead as if someone not
in the room stood in front of her. “Yeah, a good damn
question.”

* * *

Byron and Jazz timed leaving for the storage
unit after the lunch rush. Rochelle happily served up the last late
orders by one thirty that afternoon. Chyna and Lilly would come in
to work at four o’clock to get ready for evening business. Tyretta
had the day off, which eliminated the problem of explaining
anything to her. Monday was Byron’s day off as well, but he
volunteered without hesitation to help with the hunt.

When Jazz swung open the side door of the
club, the Louisiana hot and humid air hit her. “Damn, I hope this
storage unit you rented is climate controlled.”

“Yeah. Since there was paperwork and all.
some of it I sealed in big plastic bags to keep ‘em dry and the
bugs out.” Byron settled behind the wheel of his old Chevy
Tahoe.

“You’re gonna be a big time business man one
day, Byron.” Jazz climbed into the passenger side.

Just as she was about to pull the door shut,
MiMi’s Enclave pulled into the driveway in front of Jazz’s
apartment. She parked next to Jazz’s Explorer and jumped out of her
car. The lights flashed as she armed the alarm. She was dressed in
casual clothes. Still, her jeans, long-sleeve t-shirt, and sneakers
looked stylish. She carried a tote bag. Waving at them with a big
grin, MiMi trotted to the Tahoe. She opened a back door and jumped
in the passenger seat behind Byron.

“Hey y’all. Whew, got here just in time. I
thought I was going to have to meet y’all over there.” MiMi fanned
her face.

Jazz twisted around to glare at her. “S’cuse
me, but what the hell?”

“Oh don’t worry about work. I put in early
hours. Auntie Beryl is going to pick Sage up from daycare in case
we run later than six o’clock. Girl, they charge ten bucks for
every five minutes you’re late.” MiMi rummaged around in her tote
bag as she talked.

“I didn’t ask you to come with us, MiMi, so
you need to hop your lil’ bold ass outta this vehicle,” Jazz
snapped.

“Look, I’m trying to
help
you, so
don’t take that tone with me. The longer we sit here arguing, the
later it gets. Plus we’ll attract attention.” MiMi sat back in her
seat to signal she wasn’t going anywhere.

Just as Jazz wound up to cuss her out, Byron
spoke up. “She’s right, boss lady. There’s a crap load of stuff in
that unit. Three of us will make the search go faster. We don’t
wanna be out there too late after dark.”

“Don’t forget the part about attracting
attention,” MiMi put in. “Lorraine or that gang member
whets-his-face have eyes on you.”

“Another solid point,” Byron rumbled, his
voice solemn as he glanced around.

Jazz hissed in frustration. “Fine let’s get
moving.”

Byron started the engine, and they drove on
for twenty minutes in silence. Red Stick Storage was in the
southern part of East Baton Rouge Parish. The remote location was
part of the reason the rates were so reasonable. After stop and go
traffic, they hit Airline Highway. A billboard advertising the
storage facility told them they were five minutes away.

“My buddy manages this one and two others.
They bought that billboard,” Byron said. “We’re taking management
classes together. He was my cellmate back in the day.”

“That’s wonderful. I don’t mean that you two
were in jail,” MiMi added. She gazed out of the window at passing
businesses.

“Humph.” Jazz cast a hot glance at MiMi over
her shoulder before facing front again.

“I know what you meant.” Byron smiled at
MiMi in the rearview mirror. He gave Jazz an amused side look. “I
put labels on boxes, but just general like ‘Receipts’. I didn’t
search through it all. Didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“I’m just glad you ignored my orders, but
don’t make it a habit,” Jazz added and pointed at him. “Unless you
know better.”

Byron chuckled softly. “Yes ma’am. I got
it.”

“And you, follow orders and keep quiet,”
Jazz said to MiMi without looking at her.

“Yes ma’am. I got it, too,” MiMi chirped and
gave a sharp salute.

Jazz started to say more, but decided not to
waste her breath. MiMi on a mission didn’t listen to anyone. Byron
turned onto a side street. A variety of businesses lined both sides
of a wide four lane street. Other streets branched off with more.
Interline Boulevard was one of several light industrial sections of
the city. A big red and white sign to their left announced they’d
arrived at Red Stick Storage. A driveway led down the center of one
long row of connected metal buildings on either side. More rows
stretched behind these. Street signs were posted at intersecting
driveways.

“Just up here. We’re on Sesame Street,”
Byron said.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jazz
replied, gaping at him.

“Cool. Cookie Monster is my fave.” MiMi
laughed when Jazz threw another angry glare her way.

“If you start singing that song, I’ll
strangle you and stuff your body in one of these storage units,”
Jazz grumbled.

MiMi giggled. “You’re the grouchy
monster.”

“You owe Baby Sage a lot. If I didn’t want
to orphan that child...”

Byron stopped the Tahoe. “Here we go. Unit
number thirty-six, that’s yours.”

Jazz got out of the SUV and stopped MiMi
from exiting. “Let’s get one thing straight, MiMi. Don’t get your
hopes up you’ll find a treasure map leading to money Jack hid.
Lorraine didn’t even know Jack that well. He just hung out at Candy
Girls a minute.”

“Okay, okay.” MiMi looked around.

“You need to listen to me,” Jazz warned as
she shook a forefinger at MiMi.

“I heard you for goodness sakes. But
finders’ keepers,” MiMi replied in a sing-song voice as she pushed
the door open.

Jazz jumped back to get out of the way.
“Girl, you gonna earn a butt kicking’ yet.”

“Here we go. I knew oiling this lock and
these hinges was a good idea.” Byron had ignored their dramatic
play and opened the storage unit.

“We love you Byron,” MiMi breathed as she
scurried past him into the open unit. “Now what?” her voice echoed
back.

“Now, I turn on the lights and you wait for
me to tell you where to search.” Byron found the switch. A
florescent bulb spread white light over the contents.

“Whoa, there’s a big pile of stuff up in
here.” MiMi picked up a lamp with an orange and pink shade. “Ugly
stuff.”

Jazz squinted as her eyes adjusted from the
sunlight. She took off her sunglasses. “Lorraine is not known for
her sense of style. Damn, Byron. You could have thrown that away
for sure.”

“We could have a garage sale. Bet somebody
would buy it,” Byron replied matter-of-factly.

“One woman’s junk is another woman’s
treasure. I’m sure there are more than enough people with tacky
taste buy this mess.” MiMi sniffed at a purple stuffed chair.

“We’re looking for files or old papers,”
Jazz said as she stared at a stack of boxes.

Byron pointed to the right. “Then look along
that wall. Six boxes.”

“Six isn’t too bad.” MiMi started for them,
but Jazz yanked her back.

“You’re taking orders, remember?” Jazz
frowned at her.

“Sheesh, I get it. You don’t have to pull my
arm out of its socket.” MiMi rubbed her shoulder.

Jazz walked over to the stack of boxes. They
were made of sturdy cardboard She grunted with the effort to pick
one up. “This thing weighs a ton.”

“Lorraine might have been messy, but she
kept records. Sure you want to dig through it? All of them boxes
are stuffed like that one.” Byron scratched his head as he looked
around. “

“Let’s get started. We’ll each take a box.
Look for anything that doesn’t look routine,” Jazz said.

“Routine like what?” MiMi asked.

Byron cleared a space by stacking smaller
items on others. He talked as he worked. “Old receipts for food or
liquor, or invoices for stuff they bought like tables. I’m guessing
you want to look for bookkeeping ledgers.”

“Yeah, or anything that looks out of place.
Names of people, anything odd.” Jazz fanned her face.

“Don’t worry, the air will kick on soon.
This place is high tech, too. Forty percent of the cooling is with
a heat pump system. That cuts cost. I’m considering a franchise
myself,” Byron said.

“If I had money, I’d invest,” MiMi
complained. She glanced at Jazz.

“Don’t start with the whining.” Jazz tugged
open the box with effort.

Byron put two more boxes on the floor. “You
can sit on that chair. Boss, here’s a small stool. I’ll sit on this
old trunk.”

MiMi’s eyes lit up as she circled the old
fashioned box. “A trunk! Now talk about possibilities.”

“Don’t bother cause there ain’t much in it.
Nothing but old fake jewelry, clothes from the fifties and sixties.
I think it must have belonged to Lorraine’s mother,” Byron said. He
opened the other two boxes.

“Sit your ass down and start looking through
these papers,” Jazz barked.

“Fine.” MiMi huffed, but she followed orders
as promised. “I can’t believe Lorraine left her family keepsakes
behind.”

“The Taylors ain’t sentimental,” Jazz
retorted. She gazed at the boxes. “Might as well get started.”

For the next three hours they burrowed into
the mounds of paper. Jazz kept glancing at MiMi. She expected the
diva to lose her enthusiasm for the hunt. Instead MiMi seemed to
have endless hope that some intriguing clue would be discovered.
Jazz began to think they were wasting time. By almost five o’clock
they’d stacked up a pile of papers Jazz decided she needed to
keep.

“Byron, you’re a true packrat like you said.
I think we can trash most of this stuff.” Jazz slapped dust from
her hands and the front of her shirt. A coughing fit was her
reward.

“Okay boss lady. I was hoping it wasn’t a
bunch of worthless paper. Nothing in those old notebooks either,
huh?” Byron started packing one of the empty boxes he’d brought
along with.

“What notebooks?” MiMi spoke up before Jazz
could draw a breath to ask.

“Hmm, I musta forgot a box or something. Let
me see.” Byron started rooting around another corner with more
boxes.

“At this point, I don’t care. I want a
shower, a hot meal, and my bunny slippers,” Jazz mumbled. She
cursed as a tiny spider crawled up the leg of her jeans. “Damn
bugs.”

“Don’t kill it,” MiMi squealed. “They’re
good luck!”

“You must be out of your ever lovin’ mind,”
Jazz shot back, but MiMi caught her hand to stop her from squashing
it.

MiMi brushed the spider to the floor like it
was a beloved pet. “There you go little guy. Just hide in another
corner. Jazzy is scared of the itty bitty spider.”

“When his three feet wide mama shows up, I
want to hear you sweet talk then,” Jazz said. “C’mon Byron. The
creepy crawlies are comin’ out. Time to leave for damn sure.”

“Nah, this place has pest control. Nothin’
big gets in here or lives long.” Byron’s voice came from behind a
pile of furniture. “Ha, I must not have been paying attention. The
box is next to some old Christmas decorations.”

“First thing, you do an inventory and dump a
bunch of this crap,” Jazz mumbled.

“I stored it all in case Lorraine might show
up claiming we stole her belongings. I guess the law can consider
it abandoned after so long.” Byron breathed heavily as he climbed
over a small table with the last box. He dropped it at Jazz’s
feet.

Jazz heaved a deeply annoyed sigh, but
pulled open the taped top. “I hope this is the last one.”

“Definitely. I checked since I was back
there.” Byron mopped his face with the wad of paper towels he
brought along. He sat down on a table with a grunt.

Jazz lifted out two ledgers. Another stack
of spiral notebooks shifted and slid to the side. MiMi peered over
her shoulder until Jazz scowled at her. “Back the hell off me.”

“Oh shush and hand me a stack,” MiMi replied
without moving one inch.

Jazz shoved two old notebooks into MiMi’s
hand. “Here. Sit. Shut up.”

“I’ll take two or three myself.” Byron
accepted them from Jazz and flipped through the pages.