Kendra Clayton Mystery Box Set
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The Kendra Clayton Mysteries Boxed Set
Copyright © 2016 Angela Henry All Rights Reserved
Cover Image by © Eka Panova/Shutterstock
The Kendra Clayton Mysteries Boxed Set
Includes the following titles:
The Company You Keep (Book #1)
Tangled Roots (Book #2)
Diva’s Last Curtain Call (Book #3)
PRAISE FOR THE KENDRA CLAYTON SERIES
The Company You Keep
“A tightly woven mystery...” —Ebony Magazine
“This debut mystery features an exciting new African- American heroine... Highly recommended.”
—Library Journal
Tangled Roots
"Smart, witty, and fast-paced, this second Kendra Clayton novel is as likeable as the first.”
—CrimeSpree Magazine
“...appealing characters...witty dialogue...an enjoyable read.” 4 Stars
—Romantic Times Magazine
Diva’s Last Curtain Call
“It's the perfect script for a great summer read.” —Broward Times
“...this series is made of inventive storytelling, crackling wit and that rarity of rarities in American publishing: an authentic, down-to-earth slice of Black life." —Insight New
Table of Contents
Copyright
Praise for the Series
Book 1, The Company You Keep
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Book 2,Tangled Roots
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Book 3, Diva’s Last Curtain Call
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
THE COMPANY
YOU KEEP
A Kendra Clayton Mystery
ANGELA HENRY
Copyright © 2013 Angela Henry All Rights Reserved
ISBN-13: 978-0692269909
PROLOGUE
Jordan Wallace parked in front of the brick ranch and turned off the ignition. He checked the visor mirror. With the exception of the slight receding of his hairline, he liked what he saw. “You still got it,” he said to his reflection and silently thanked his mama’s side of the family for his good looks. He pulled the note out of his shirt pocket and read it again.
“Maybe, my luck is changing,” he whispered. He looked at the house and the red car in the driveway. The bitch had better be home, he thought and smiled with satisfaction. He knew she’d see it his way. He always got what he wanted—eventually. He also knew what this meeting could mean. If this worked out he, wouldn’t have to kiss anybody’s ass again—well at least not for a long time. He’d already had to butter Bernie up to let him use her car while his was in the shop. He had to agree he’d come to that damned recognition program that evening. He’d also had to make a promise that at that very moment he was breaking.
He’d have to be extra nice to Bernie that night. Maybe even move out of the guest room back into the master suite. After all, somebody had to pay for his car repairs because he was broke as a joke. He started to get angry all over again when he thought about the way his car had been keyed. He knew who’d done it and would deal with that later.
“He got out of the car and looked around a moment before walking up the driveway. He rang the doorbell and waited a few minutes. There was no answer. He felt his anger rising.
“I don’t have time for this bullshit!” he hissed after ringing the doorbell a second and third time. He cupped his hands and looked into one of the small windows that ran along both sides of the door. Was that movement he detected? It was so dark inside. Why didn’t she have the curtains drawn? Jordan fumbled in his pants pocket for the key to the front door. Bernie would have a fit if she knew he still had his key. But if this meeting went well, he could kiss her, this town—and all the problems he’d had since he got here—good-bye soon. Still, it wouldn’t be wise to burn any bridges just yet. He smiled at the thought and let himself into the dark house.
ONE
I, Kendra Clayton, am a very easygoing person. Mellow is my middle name. Actually, Janelle is my middle name. But you get the point. I’ve never been the type of person to let a whole lot bother me. But even someone as laid back as me has a limit. And after waiting for more than an hour in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night, I’d about reached it. Plus, my feet were killing me, and you know when your feet hurt, everything hurts. I looked over at my friend Bernie and saw that her bottom lip was poked out and her eyes were narrowed in an expression that was a cross between a pout and a scowl. Truth be told, it was not her most flattering look. And if I weren’t so annoyed, I’d have told her never to make that face again. I’d finally reached a point where patience and common sense were fighting a hard battle. After telling me she wanted to wait ten more minutes, patience got its ass kicked as I felt the last of mine disappear into the night air.
“This is ridiculous,” I sighed in exasperation. “I’m taking you home.”
“But,” she began before I held up my hand to shush her.
“Not in ten minutes or ten seconds, right now. It’s getting late, and I’m tired. So get in the car!” As I’ve said, rarely am I this annoyed, but tiredness and foolishness, especially hand in hand, had a way of doing a number on my disposition.
“Well, all right then, if you’re sure it’s not too much out of your way,” she said meekly as she opened my car door and got in.
It was out of my way. Bernie lived on the other side of town. But I wasn’t about to let her keep waiting in the dark for her boyfriend to pick her up when it was obvious hours ago that the slimeball wasn’t coming.
“I really appreciate this, Kendra. I just don’t know what could have happened to Jordan tonight. He’s got my car. His is in the shop,” she added quickly, just in case I thought he had free run of her car, along with her house and her money, which I already knew he had.
“I called him several times, and he’s not picking up. I just hope nothing’s wrong.” She sounded close to tears.
I had a pretty good idea where Jordan was: out creepin’. But I wasn’t about to voice my opinion to Bernie. Bernice Gibson has been a coworker of mine at the Clark Literacy Center for the past three years. I’m an instructor with the General Educational Development program, and Bernie is the center’s tutor trainer and coordinator.
To
night had been the literacy center’s annual recognition program honoring all of this year’s GED graduates and all the students who had worked so hard throughout the year. The ceremony had gone smoothly. It wasn’t until the reception afterward that I noticed that something was bothering Bernie. First of all, she didn’t eat, which definitely wasn’t like her. Bernie and I have a shared love of food, especially sweets. Most of the time when we get together, it’s at Estelle’s, my uncle Alex’s restaurant, or at one of our homes to try some new recipe.
“That last piece of carrot cake has your name all over it. You better go get it before it’s gone,” I had told her.
“Oh, I will,” she said absently as she looked around the room.
“Who you are looking for?”
“Jordan said he’d come tonight. I thought he’d be here by now.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said. But I couldn’t quite manage to keep the sarcasm out of my voice because Bernie gave me one of her ‘don’t start on Jordan’ looks and walked away.
Bernie and I get along very well—except when it comes to Jordan. It’s not that I’m jealous. It’s just that I hate to see a woman as nice as Bernie being taken advantage of by a slicker than slick bastard like Jordan. Jordan Wallace blew into Willow, Ohio, a little more than a year ago. Bernie met him when he started renting the house that she owned and had lived in before she moved in with her sick mother.
Everything about him is a little too extreme for me. He’s extremely fine—in a smarmy sort of way—extremely well dressed, extremely charming, and extremely phony. He also doesn’t seem to have a job. Bernie says he’s self-employed as a business consultant. I’m not buying that mess for a minute. From what I’ve seen, the only business Jordan seems to be involved in is using his good looks and charm to get what he wants out of women.
Bernie and I drove along in silence. I decided to avoid all mention of Jordan.
“I thought Regina gave a great speech tonight, didn’t you?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“She sure did.” Bernie agreed. “I’m so proud of that girl,” she said with the first real smile I’d seen all evening.
Regina’s a student in the GED program. She could barely read when she first started coming to the literacy center when she was eighteen. Now, two years later, after a lot of hard work and help from Bernie, who’s her tutor, she’s at a high school reading level and is about to take her GED exam. The speech she had given at this evening’s program had been about how her self-esteem and self-worth had risen along with her reading level. It had been so moving that there was hardly a dry eye in the house.”
I started to comment on the wonderful job the caterers had done on the reception, when suddenly a car pulled out from a side street and cut right in front of me, coming within inches of hitting my car. I slammed on my brakes. Bernie and I flew forward in our seats. I instinctively threw my arm across Bernie’s chest. I don’t know why people do this. It isn’t like it would keep anyone from flying through the windshield if the impact were great enough. I looked up in time to see a carful of teenagers, rap music blaring, speed off down the street.
“I swear these damn kids are going to kill someone one day!” My heart was beating so fast I thought it might jump right out of my chest.
I looked over at Bernie. The smile that was just on her face was gone and had been replaced by a very tense look.
“Well, I’m about sick of this shit!” she said suddenly. I was shocked. I rarely heard Bernie curse.
“I know what you mean. These kids drive like damned fools.”
“No, I’ m not talking about that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m talking about Jordan.”
Now I was really shocked. As bad as Jordan treated Bernie sometimes, I’d never heard her say one negative thing about him.
“You know this isn’t the first time he’s done this to me, Kendra,” she continued angrily.
I knew all too well how many times Jordan had disappointed Bernie and had stood her up. I decided to keep quiet and let her vent.
“And I know where he is too: with that little hussy renting my house!”
So she did know about Jordan and Vanessa Brumfield. I always wondered how she couldn’t know when it seemed like everyone in town did. Vanessa Brumfield’s a petite brunette who started renting Bernie’s house after Jordan—at Bernie’s insistence—moved in with her. Bernie’s mother had left her the family home and a large sum of money when she died. Bernie never sold her house and used it as a rental property.
I remembered Vanessa from high school. She had been one of those disgustingly peppy chicks who had been involved in everything from drama club to cheerleading. I do remember hearing through the grapevine that Vanessa’s father had disowned her when she married a black man. Vanessa is now separated from her husband, which is why she’s renting Bernie’s house.
“Kendra, will you do me a favor and take me past my old house?” Bernie asked.
I smelled trouble and was not about to get in the middle of it. I got a sudden mental image of two grown women rolling around fighting in the yard while Jordan stood there with that shark’s tooth grin of his. It didn’t seem normal for anyone to have that many teeth.
“Listen, Bernie, why don’t you go home and cool off first before you go confronting anyone? He may not even be there.” She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.”
“I’m not going to confront anyone! All I want is my car. She can have Jordan, and she can cart his sorry ass around until his car is out of the shop!”
I couldn’t help wondering what brought on this sudden change of heart. Had almost flying the windshield a second ago made her see the light? Somehow I doubted it.
“Where’s all this coming from? First you’re about to cry because he didn’t show up, now you’re ready to kick him to the curb, and all in the space of a half hour.” I glanced over at Bernie. She was twisting the leather strap of her purse in both hands as if she were trying to wring a good answer to my question out of it.
“I’m just tired of feeling like a fool, that’s all. Ever since he moved in, things have been going downhill between us. He borrows money from me left and right, he won’t lift a finger to clean up after himself, and he expects me to wait on him hand and foot!”
I was bursting to say “I told you so.” But I could see how miserable she was and didn’t want to kick her when she was down, so I kept my mouth shut.”
“I know how much you hate Jordan, and I didn’t feel like hearing ‘I told you so’, she said as if reading my mind. “I kept hoping things would get better but they haven’t. I found out about two weeks ago that he’s been messing around with the girl who’s been renting my house. I should have known something was up when he started volunteering to go over there and pick up the rent. The first time I asked him to do it he acted all put out and told me he’d only do it once because he wasn’t a damned errand boy. After that, he was always over there any time she had any little problem with anything, which was all the time. Now I know what’s really been going on!”
“I think it’s all for the best, Bernie,” I told her. “I’m just surprised you put up with him this long. I’d have sent him packing a long time ago.” I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him in the first place. But I felt it best to keep that to myself.
Bernie’s head whipped around so fast I half expected it to snap right off her neck.
“Well when you get to be my age and you’re trying to hold something together because you’re tired of being alone, we’ll see how much you’re willing to put up with!” She glared at me.
Now it was my turn to look at her like she was crazy. It never ceased to amaze me how the fear of loneliness will cause perfectly sane women to put up with situations they’d never tolerate in any other aspect of their lives. Bernie was older than me, and I’ve always looked up to her as the older, wiser sister I never had. I knew that the death of her mother three years ago and the
sudden death of her brother, Ben, last year had devastated her. But I had no idea how vulnerable she’d become.
“Bernie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I’ve always thought you deserved better than Jordan,” I said, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly developed between us.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that,” she said, giving me a smile. I breathed a sigh of relief.”
“Just take me over there. I know he’s there with her. I have an extra set of keys. I’m just going to get my car and go home. Believe me, this is the last straw, and I have nothing left to say to the man. If he’s not there, you can just take me home.”
“All right, but only if you’re sure you’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I made a right turn at the corner and headed toward Archer Street where Bernie used to live. I was relieved not to have to drive all the way to the north side of town and back. I suddenly remembered how tired I was.