Chapter 14
August 15
“You. Are. Lying!” Jamaica basically screamed from outside the dressing room in the department store where they were shopping for swimsuits.
Inside the small space, Vanna shook her head as if Jamaica could see her. “Nope. Not lying. When I left my house today, there were three construction men present, discussing how long it was going to take them to repair part of the front wall of my house.”
Jamaica’s laughter was just as loud as the screeching she’d been doing since Vanna began telling her about what happened last night. She peeled off the one-piece tummy-control suit and tossed it onto the small bench against the wall. “Too plain,” she murmured.
“So, wait, you had to call contractors? How’d you get them to come out so fast? My mother waited a day and a half for a plumber to come out and give her an estimate,” Jamaica said.
Vanna picked up the second bathing suit, but not before turning to the side to view herself in the mirror. Of course, she’d kept her panties and bra on while trying on the garments, so she had to take into account how that would skew the look of the suit, but she still had a precise look she was going for—sexy and unapologetic. Hopefully, this one would be it.
“Aden knew a guy,” she said, and leaned forward to balance herself on one leg while she pushed the other into the suit.
“Ooooh, Aden knew a guy. He knows a lot of guys that come in handy for you, doesn’t he?”
“Stop it,” Vanna chastised as she shimmied into the very tight material. A portion of the sides to this one were just a row of strings, like a ladder, so she had to be careful not to get her other foot—or her arm, for that matter—stuck in one of them. “I’m actually glad he was there. Granny was a mess! Did I mention she pulled her gun on him?”
“What?” Jamaica’s tone was even louder this time because she pulled the door to the dressing room open at the same time. Her eyes were wide as she continued, “Granny was going to shoot Aden?”
“Girl, get in here before somebody walks by and sees all my goodies,” Vanna snapped.
Jamaica squeezed into the dressing room and closed the door behind her. She picked up the pile of bathing suits on the bench and plopped down. “So, why was she going to shoot him?”
“He was trying to help her, wanted to take care of the cut on her forehead or possibly take her to the ER. And she just turned on him.” The swimsuit was pulled all the way up, the top adjusted correctly over her breasts. She turned to the side again, then to the back, and looked over her shoulder.
“Your ass looks hot in that,” Jamaica said. “Like, ole boy’s gonna want to peel that right off you and get busy in the pool.”
“Not!” It was Vanna’s turn to yell, her eyes going wide. But when she turned to look at herself from the front again, she smiled. “It does look good, though.”
Behind her, Jamaica nodded too. “It does, and it’s pink. I’m telling you, we’re gonna look like a bunch of cotton candy by the end of this month.”
“Oh, hush, this is the first event I’ve asked everyone to wear pink. You have your outfit, right? Or do we need to go over to your size section and pick something out?”
“I’ve got a pink bathing suit, girl.” Jamaica rolled her eyes and started looking through the pile of suits she’d dropped onto her lap. “I ordered it from Amazon,” she said.
“Amazon sells bathing suits?”
“They sell everything. I keep tellin’ you and Ronni, y’all be missing out.” Jamaica held up another suit. “You try this one on? It’s a two-piece. Sexxxxy!”
“Oh yeah, let me try that one,” Vanna said, and began easing out of the second one. “This one goes in the keeper pile.”
“Definitely,” Jamaica said. “Okay, now let me get this straight: the senior home is putting Granny out because she threatened two of the tenants?”
“Not just threatened them. She mooned them, then waved her gun in Sylvia Randolph’s face. And when the night manager came into Sam’s apartment to try and gain some order, she cursed him out too. Told him she’d beat his ass all up and down the halls.” Vanna shook her head as she accepted the two-piece suit from Jamaica and handed her the other one.
Jamaica laughed. “Girl, you can’t write this shit! I mean, woooowww. Granny’s pushing eighty, and she’s out in these streets fightin’ over some man.”
“And she don’t even want him,” Vanna said. “That’s the kicker. She’s been sleeping with every man she can in that building, whenever she feels like it, so I don’t even know why she’s trippin’ over Sam doing the same thing.”
“It’s different, you know that,” Jamaica said.
“No. That’s the other way around. Men are cool when they cheat but can’t take it when a woman cheats. Granny’s out here in her feelings over Sam, when she’s getting it in with anybody who can get it up.” She pulled the bottom piece up and over her stomach, loving how it smoothed out her side rolls there.
“True, true. But that Sylvia woman was runnin’ off at the mouth too, right?”
Vanna put her arms through the top piece and took a step back so Jamaica could snap it. If she were in here alone, she would’ve worked it like she put her bra on in the morning, but since Jamaica had brought her silly self in here, she might as well be of some use.
“That’s what Granny said, and she said that’s what really pissed her off. If Sylvia wasn’t gloating and acting like she’d stolen Sam from Granny, then Granny would’ve told her she could have him because his breath stank when he didn’t clean his dentures properly.”
The howl of laughter Jamaica let out from behind her had Vanna chuckling too. “Girl, it’s not funny. When I finally managed to leave my house late this morning and get to the senior building to talk to the manager, they told me I had seven days to get all of her stuff out of the apartment. I told them absolutely not, she’s paid up until the thirty-first, so that’s how long I had to move her out. But I did grab her some clothes and Frito’s food.”
She started her turns as she surveyed this suit in the mirror. It was a darker shade of pink than the first one—which she would never admit to Jamaica did put her in mind of cotton candy. But she liked this almost-fuchsia one too.
“It’s giving great cleavage,” she said.
“Don’t gloat. I swear I hate you big-titty girlies,” Jamaica said.
“Aw, don’t be salty—there’s plenty of room in the pool for you B-cupsters,” she joked.
“Ha ha. That’s why you’ve got a permanent houseguest now, and just when you finally started getting some in-house dick.”
“You’re not funny,” she replied. “That’s not even the worst part—plus, Granny always uses the bigger guest room, which has a bathroom and is the farthest away from mine. But the worst part is, I stepped in Frito-poop this morning.”
Jamaica’s frown would’ve been hysterical if not for the memory of that nasty mess on her bare feet at seven thirty this morning when she’d made her way downstairs to start a pot of coffee. “Granny says he gets nervous poops and forgets to go out to handle his business. I’m like, really? That dog has been to my house a million times, and now he’s nervous.”
“No, he’s nervous because his owner just ran his little ass through the front window of that house,” Jamaica added.
Looking at her through the mirror, Vanna nodded. “You got a point there.”
“So, what’s the verdict? ’Cause you can’t possibly be buying all of these. The pool party is only four hours long. You gonna be making outfit changes like you’re hosting an award show?”
Vanna ran a hand down her very smoothed-out stomach one more time. “Definitely this one and the other one with all the strings on the side. And no, I’m thinking one change. I’ll wear the first one as my party outfit, then put this one on when I’m ready to get in the water.”
“That’s a plan. And that’s definitely the one you get wet ... you know, before Aden gets you even wetter,” Jamaica said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
Vanna couldn’t help but recall Jamaica’s parting remark when she walked into the conference room later and saw Aden sitting next to Jovani. The call from Jovani’s assistant telling her about this evening meeting at the Metro Police Department had come just as she was leaving the mall with Jamaica. So instead of going home to check on Granny and Frito, she’d driven there. She hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting, but she knew she hadn’t expected to see Aden here.
She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d checked in via text earlier this afternoon. After waiting at her house for the construction guys who had worked on the renovations for his gym to show up, he’d had to get to work himself. That hadn’t been a problem for her; he’d already helped so much throughout the night, with getting Granny and Frito settled, talking to the police who showed up at the house because one of her neighbors had called them, and then talking Vanna down from the ledge she was ready to toss herself over after all that had happened. She’d just made it to her office when his text came in, so nobody had been able to see the way his words made her smile.
Right now, she wasn’t smiling, though, as she moved farther into the room. Aden stood and walked toward her. He touched a hand to her elbow and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before leading her to a seat between him and Jovani.
“You doing okay?” Jovani asked when she was settled into the chair. “How’s your grandmother?”
So, Aden had told Jovani everything. Last night before the walls had literally come crashing in, he’d said “they” would call Jovani this morning, but while she’d talked to the contractors, he’d taken care of the call.
“Yeah,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s been a long day, but I’m as good as I’m gonna get. And I called Granny before I came into the building; she’s holding up too.”
Honestly, Granny had probably spent the afternoon cleaning Vanna’s house from top to bottom. She always cleaned when she was upset. Even though she’d insisted she wasn’t upset when Vanna had left the house.
“I’m sorry all this is happening,” Jovani said. “But I’m going to try to get to the bottom of some of this mess tonight.”
“Good,” she replied with a nod, and clutched her purse that was sitting in her lap. “It’s kind of late for a meeting, right?”
“The detectives were on the evening shift,” Jovani told her. “I thought about asking for their lieutenant but figured I wouldn’t go over their heads just yet.”
Vanna was about to ask another question when a second door on the other side of the room opened. Detectives Parish and Beaumont sauntered in. Beaumont carried a notepad and a file folder, while Parish was empty-handed. They both took seats across the table from Vanna and what felt like her two-man team.
“Mrs. Carlson,” Beaumont said. “Nice to see you again so soon.”
Jovani cleared his throat. “Thank you for meeting with us this evening, Detectives,” he said. “Mrs. Carlson would like to report an incident which took place at her home yesterday morning.”
Parish’s brow went up. “Yesterday morning, you say? We got word that a report was taken from her home address late last night. Something about a car crashing into your house—but you didn’t want to press charges because you knew the person.”
In her lap, her hands gripped her purse again, but she sat with her shoulders straight, her gaze leveled at Parish. “My grandmother had an accident. She doesn’t see well at night.” And was slightly buzzed and not wearing her glasses, but they didn’t need to know that part.
Beaumont chuckled. “Oh my. Well, I’m sure that’s a mess. But I don’t know how that relates to this case.”
“Because that’s not the incident we’re here to report,” Jovani said. “Yesterday morning, there was a strange car with two men inside parked across the street from Mrs. Carlson’s house.”
Parish shrugged. “And?”
“ And we want to file an official report giving the description of the car and the occupants in case it’s connected to this case you’ve decided to include my client in,” Jovani said.
Beaumont flipped open the file folder, which he’d set on the table. “You mean, the case your client is knee-deep in.”
“I am not knee-deep in anything,” Vanna said, and felt Aden’s hand on her arm at the same time that Jovani made a motion with his hand for her to remain silent.
But she didn’t want to keep quiet; she wanted to scream to the rafters that this was some BS! These detectives were still looking at her like she was guilty, disregarding all that Jovani had said and preferring to joke about her grandmother’s incident instead.
“Oh, but you are,” Beaumont continued. “You see, since the last time we met, we’ve uncovered a few more interesting facts.”
“What facts?” Jovani asked. “Because so far, all you have is circumstantial evidence against her.”
“You might consider this more circumstantial evidence, Counselor,” Parish said. “But the more we dig, the more dirt we find.”
Vanna clenched her teeth and narrowed her gaze at him. She didn’t know which one she despised more. Probably Beaumont, because even though she was sitting there between two men, he still had come right in letting his gaze shamelessly drop to her breasts, just as he had before.
“Do you know Elliot Joble?” Beaumont asked.
Vanna glanced over at Jovani, and when he nodded, she replied, “No.”
Parish had sat back in his chair, but his arm was stretched onto the table, where he now drummed his fingers. “You sure? Because he seems to have known you.”
“What does that mean, Detective?” Jovani asked. “She said she didn’t know him.”
“Then how do you explain someone you don’t know having your business card?” Beaumont asked.
“Anyone can pick up a business card in an office; that doesn’t mean they know the person whose name is on the cards,” Jovani replied. “Not to mention, this isn’t what we’re here for.”
He seemed really calm as he stared at the detectives. He hadn’t even glanced down at the file Beaumont had, while Vanna had tried to sneak a peek at it several times now. She knew that amused Beaumont by the way he hadn’t tried to hide any of the papers inside.
“Well, it’s a coincidence that you requested this meeting tonight, because we were going to schedule another, more formal interview with you,” Beaumont said. “You see, on Tuesday night, Elliot Joble was involved in a motorcycle accident. Witnesses say a black SUV drove him off the road until he and his bike crashed into a tree. You drive a black SUV, right, Mrs. Carlson?”
No, she didn’t. Well, not normally. Her Camry was blue. But the Explorer she was renting because her car was in the shop was black.
“Don’t answer that,” Jovani directed.
“It rained pretty hard on Tuesday night, so witnesses couldn’t get a good look at a license tag, but they were adamant that it was a black SUV that was speeding down the road behind Elliot on the motorcycle,” Beaumont continued, his gaze locked on Vanna.
“We’re sorry to hear of his passing, but that has nothing to do with my client,” Jovani said. “Now, I’ve prepared an official statement from my client on what took place at her home yesterday.” She hadn’t seen the leather briefcase on the empty chair beside Jovani, but now he reached into it and pulled out a file folder of his own.
He set it on the table and used the tips of his fingers to push it in the direction of the detectives. “While you’re looking for your SUV, keep an eye out for this vehicle as well.”
Beaumont didn’t even glance at the folder, but Parish picked it up.
“Elliot Joble worked as a cage cashier with your husband,” Beaumont continued. “Perhaps that’s how he came to be in possession of your business card. Maybe you were referring him to one of the lawyers you work with, had your husband give him your card to set up a meeting. Or maybe ...” Beaumont leaned in, an annoying grin sliding across his face. “Maybe he needed your card so he could get in touch with you about the money from their last heist before the botched one. Seems every member from the team hadn’t received their payment for that job. Do you have their money, Mrs. Carlson?”
Jovani chuckled. “This fishing expedition is over, Detectives.” He grabbed his briefcase and stood.
Aden stood as well, and reached out a hand to help Vanna from her seat.
“If you get any leads on that car, please let us know,” Jovani said. “In the meantime, if my client sees it again, she’s calling 911, so make sure your guys know someone is stalking her. I’d hate to file a complaint against the department for ignoring my client’s concerns.”
Jovani moved from behind the table first and headed for the door. Vanna followed him, noting that neither of the detectives stood. When Aden abruptly released her hand, she looked back to see him lean over the table to get into Beaumont’s face.
“And next time, I’d advise you to keep your eyes on her face,” Aden said, his voice tight with irritation, “or sexual harassment will be another complaint filed against you.”
Beaumont had the good sense to look momentarily flustered before Parish grumbled and stood. “Don’t leave town, Mrs. Carlson. This investigation isn’t over.”
Vanna didn’t acknowledge his words with a response, but let Aden take her hand in his again as they walked out of the room.
The front door was still intact, but the large picture window and a portion of the wall going toward the opposite side of the house was now covered with plywood. There was a huge dumpster on the grass in front of the house and supplies stacked in her driveway when she pulled up at almost 8:00 p.m.
For a few minutes, Vanna could only stare through the windshield at the mess. Then she whispered a prayer of thanks that it hadn’t been worse. Granny had refused to go to the ER, even when the uniformed officers had arrived and asked her several times. So Vanna had cleaned and put a bandage on the cut—which actually hadn’t been that deep—on her forehead. And the car had been towed a couple hours after the impact. But the fact that this could’ve been so much worse hadn’t escaped her.
Her grandmother could’ve been killed in an accident like this. The house could’ve had much more extensive damage that Vanna would have to figure out how to pay for. As it stood now, she didn’t want to put in a claim with her homeowner’s insurance for fear they would want to sue Granny and recoup any funds they paid out from Granny’s car insurance. Which was actually Vanna’s insurance as well, as Vanna had added her grandmother to her policy the moment Granny had retired. Either way she was going to end up paying for the damages, so leaving the homeowner’s policy out of the equation made even more sense.
But now, after all the grace that had seemingly been offered in that instance, a black SUV had run down some guy who Caleb used to work with. Lowering her forehead to the steering wheel, she wondered how she’d managed to draw the short straw when life’s journeys were being given out. Who the hell had she pissed off so badly that all this awful karma was coming back on her? Sighing, she almost chuckled at those thoughts. But she couldn’t laugh, couldn’t cry—hell, she was even tired of feeling at this point. She knew for certain she was tired of worrying every damn day. And that nagging feeling that there was more drama just waiting around a corner for its chance in line to wreak havoc in her life was turning into a burning rage.
When her forehead started to hurt, she lifted her head from the steering wheel and reached over to the passenger seat to grab her purse and phone. She hadn’t bothered to pack a lunch today since she’d gone into the office so late. The loud growl her stomach gave the moment she stepped out of the truck signaled that was a problem. Stepping over a bag of what looked like cement or sand, she made her way up the front steps and to the door. She could hear the music blasting from inside, and a smile ghosted her face.
Granny was safe, and Frito too. That’s all that mattered right now.
Vanna found her in the kitchen, barefoot and dressed in a white nightgown that stopped just above her ankles. Frito was sprawled on his stomach in front of the sink.
“Hey, Vannie,” Granny said when she turned to see Vanna enter. “I was just putting this plate in the microwave for you. Didn’t know how much longer you were gonna be, but I wanted you to have some dinner.”
“Thanks, Granny,” Vanna said, going closer and leaning in to kiss her grandmother’s cheek.
Granny wrapped her arms around Vanna when she was close and held on tight. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered. “So sorry to bring all this mess to your doorstep. I don’t know what came over me last night.”
Vanna hugged her grandmother back and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, probably that Long Island iced tea and that Mabeline temper.”
Granny chuckled as she pulled out of the embrace. “Yeah, well, I might be getting too old for them both.”
At the mention of that word, Vanna looked at Granny a little more closely. She did look older tonight. Something around her eyes and her mouth seemed tired, and her shoulders sagged just a little bit more. “What did you cook?” she asked, because thinking about her grandmother getting old and that brush with death last night was about to make her collapse into tears.
“I made a meat loaf. Some mashed potatoes and corn. I know you love to mix those two together,” Granny said, and reached into the microwave to take out the plate. She set it on the counter and was about to remove the foil she’d wrapped it in, but Vanna stopped her.
“Yesss, and thank you so much. I’m starving. But I want to get a shower first, so I’ll warm it up when I get done.”
“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Granny said. “Well, okay. Guess I’ll go on up and lay down.”
“You sure? You can keep my company while I eat,” Vanna said.
“No. No. I’m not gonna be in your way while I’m here, Vannie. I know you’ve got yourself a little boyfriend now, and I don’t want to intrude on y’all’s time.”
“First,” Vanna said with a shake of her head, “Aden’s a forty-two-year-old, six-feet-one-inch-tall man, so there’s nothing ‘little’ about him. And he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just ... ah ... we’re just ...”
“You’re just fuckin’.”
“Granny!” Vanna scolded.
“What? I know what you’re doing. Hell, I’ve been doing it more than half my life,” Granny said. “And doing it is what almost had me catching a charge last night.”
Vanna didn’t know what to say to that, so she just laughed. There was no one like her Granny. Nobody she loved more than this woman, who didn’t know what to say out of her mouth most of the time but had a heart of gold.