Erin grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks. “It’s not about being kept up to date. You’re my best friend. I’m worried about you.” She released my arm. “How could you be so insensitive, Tam?”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I avoided meeting her eyes.
“And I’m told you haven’t been to the office all week.”
“I went to the doctor on Friday. I have a note. I’m out with the flu.” We entered the house. I dropped my bag on the kitchen table and pulled the oversized T-shirt I’d been wearing over my head. Erin was still on my heels like a little poodle that wasn’t getting its owner’s attention.
“You need to get your butt back to work. I know you were planning to quit eventually, but surely now you need it.” “Surely” had lots of emphasis on it. Erin’s eyes swept my body. “And where are you coming from looking like one of Charlie’s Angels?”
I looked down at my all-black spandex outfit and sneakers. I did look like a ninja, but I sure wasn’t going to tell her I’d been at Shooter’s Galaxy. She’d really think I’d lost it. “I was working out.” That much was true. My arms were killing me. “The doctor’s note will have me covered. I have more than enough sick time.”
Erin’s fist went to her hips. “Working out. Since when do you work out?”
“Since I have about five hundred percent more stress.” I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Would you like one?”
Erin looked at her watch. “No, girl. I have to go. I’ve got to get my hair tightened and then I have a voice lesson.” She reached up and scratched her head. The entire monstrosity of a weave moved with her fingers.
I walked closer to Erin and hugged her. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you. I’ve just been in a funk. I needed some time to get my head together. I’m feeling much better.”
“Yeah, you’re looking pretty good for somebody’s that’s been beat out of one-eighty.” She pulled her purse higher on her shoulder. “Did you talk to a lawyer?”
“I did. Not much I can do.” I turned her in the direction of the door. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Go get your wig done; nothing worse than a loose weave in the choir stand.”
Erin pulled the front door open and stepped through. “I’m going to ring you after my lesson. Don’t ignore my call, heifer.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t forget I’m singing a solo tomorrow, so I expect you to be in church.”
“I will.”
“And wear something a little clingy.” She sized up my attire again. “Who knew you looked like J. Lo under those old ladies suits.”
I smirked. Erin walked out and I let my body fall against the door. Church. No way. I was not doing well with people. I felt like everyone could look at me and tell what a fool I was. I had a scarlet letter made out of a big fat “F” on my forehead. People would be asking me about the opening and I just . . . couldn’t. I couldn’t tell them the entire thing was off. The whispering would begin and the rumors would start flying. I wasn’t going back to church yet. Not until I got the money and re-strategized. I needed to hear from Powers.
I walked into the kitchen and lifted my handbag off of the gun case. I opened it and took out the sleek weapon. I’d done good today. Maybe I should have been a cop. Guns were fun.
Vengeance is mine. There was that voice in my head again, making me second-guess myself, and filling my soul with guilt.
“I don’t want vengeance, Lord. I just want my money.” I knew God wasn’t exactly trying to hear that crap from me, but I had to get the money back and I didn’t expect some angel to drop out of the sky and hand it to me, not after the way I’d so foolishly let my husband have it.
Before God could say something else, the doorbell rang. Erin. What did she forget? I put the gun back in the case and looked around. Erin hadn’t had anything but her purse and it was on her shoulder when she walked out, so that meant she had something else to say. I pulled the door open. My breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t Erin.
Chapter Eleven
“Not a great way to open your door.” I moved aside and Kemuel Powers stepped in. “Lot of home invasions in Phoenix and most happen in the daytime.”
I shook my head. “My best friend just pulled out and I assumed it was her coming back.”
“And that’s something people scouting for a home to break into look for—recent visitors leaving. They know you’ll think the doorbell is the person returning.”
Sufficiently chastised, I nodded. I gushed inside though. Something about a man lecturing me was sexy. Reminded me of Leon, minus the new bull’s-eye I’d permanently etched on his forehead.
“Sorry, I slipped into cop mode.” He flashed me that crooked smile I’d come to love seeing. “Ten years on Phoenix PD.”
“I should have guessed you’d been a cop. Isn’t that where most PI’s come from, the police force?”
“Yeah, I’d say about seventy percent of us do.”
A moment passed between us when neither of us said anything. I noticed his eyes traveled the length of my spandex-clad body. I was wishing I still had on my T-shirt, because suddenly I was feeling exposed. He could see every curve of my “twenty pounds overweight” body. I broke the silence. “Did you have an update for me?”
Powers was startled out of his daze. He reached into his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. Of course. That’s why I’m here. I forgot to charge my cell phone, so I thought I’d just take a chance—”
“It’s okay.” I nodded. “I appreciate the personal service.” He was staring again. “Let me just go change.”
“No.” The word came out of his mouth like a rocket. I raised an eyebrow. “You’re fine.” His eyes fell to my hips. “Really fine—and I won’t be long at all.”
I swayed an open hand in the direction of the family room. “Let’s sit.”
He looked past me, into the kitchen. “Actually, if you don’t mind, someplace where there’s a table.”
I remembered how uncomfortable he seemed on the sofa next to me. His long legs didn’t have any place to go and then there was the crying. I could see how the space might have seemed intimate. He probably thought I was going to freak out again.
“The kitchen.” I turned, and he followed. I was self-conscious about the fact that my spandex-wearing Be-yoncé-wanna-be bootie was bouncing in front of him. I was glad it was a short walk. We entered my kitchen and as we did I saw the gun case. Powers would know exactly what it was, and being a crackerjack detective, he wouldn’t miss it. I tried to put my body in between it and him. As he was taking a seat I shoved it back under my handbag. Too late. I could tell by the frown on his face that he’d seen it. “It’s a precaution,” I said, answering the question that lingered in the air.
Powers reached for his tie knot and loosened it slightly. I wondered where he was coming from in a shirt and tie. “I know I may sound like the poster boy for an anti-NRA campaign, but guns are dangerous.”
“I took lessons.” I crossed my arms in front of me.
Powers frowned. “That doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”
“I’m a good shot for a newbie. Even my instructor said so.” I pulled the refrigerator open and removed two bottles of water. I placed one in front of Powers and slipped into the chair across from him. Powers stared me down, and I added, “Being conned has left me feeling, I don’t know, vulnerable. Having the gun has helped me regain confidence.”
He shook his head. “A gun is not the place to find confidence.”
I took a long sip of my water. I was stalling. The confidence thing had been a lie and I sensed he knew it, so I decided to be honest, to unearth my shame. “I have to fix this situation. I need to confront Leon, if for nothing else than to look him in the face after what he did. He made a fool of me.”
“You’re not a fool.” Powers was quick with his words. It felt like he meant them. Our eyes connected and then he looked away before he returned his gaze to mine. “You’re being t
oo hard on yourself. I’m telling you I do this for a living. I know a silly woman when I meet one.”
“I handed over my life savings and money that wasn’t even mine. Please, if you don’t see a fool, then tell me what you see when you meet someone who allows themselves to be shanked out of their money?”
He washed his face with his hand. He seemed to be considering his words. “When I look at you, I see someone who’s strong. You haven’t fallen in a bottle or tried drugs. You’re not lying in bed, sleeping it away or worse. You’re standing, thinking, and planning. Heck, you hired me.” He smiled. “I’m impressed.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He threw up a hand in protest. “Please, stop beating yourself up and let me tell you what I know.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a typewritten report. “I just got back from Vegas,” he began. “As I explained before, I broker services from other PI buddies for the preliminary work—you know, locating the person, taking pictures and such—but then I do my own surveillance.”
I nodded understanding and Powers continued.
“I followed your husband for three days. I hate to tell you this, but he’s spending money like a fool. Gambling, eating high, letting the woman shop. He’ll be broke inside of a few months if we don’t get it back.”
I noticed Powers said “we,” which felt good. I’d been feeling so alone in this, but it still didn’t take the sting out of Leon letting the woman shop when he’d been so cheap with me. “We’re saving for our future.” How many times had he told me that?
Powers continued. “I followed him to a bank. He doesn’t have an account, just a bank deposit box. I have a source trying to find out if it’s in his name.”
“How do you know he doesn’t have an account?” I asked.
“I’m having a source check, but my guess is no account. He’s stupid, but not that stupid. You could find a bank account. Boxes aren’t as easy to find. Plus when he went in the bank, the clerk escorted him straight to boxes.”
I nodded. This was progress. At least we knew where the money was. “What if it’s in her name?”
Powers raised an eyebrow and I got question and statement in the furrow.
“Yeah, I know. He’s stupid, but not that stupid.”
“Probably not,” Powers added.
“Well.” I stood and put my hands on my hips. “I guess I’m going to Vegas.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll be going back. I hope to hear about the bank account on Monday. I’m trying to find out if it’s in one of his aliases.”
I shook my head. “I can’t afford to pay you anymore.”
“Don’t worry about the money. Let’s call your attorney on Monday. We can have her file an order to seize the box.”
“The box that we don’t know whose name it’s in? And as for the bank account, Leon could have another identity by now. Don’t you think it’s likely he would with all the alias names you had in the background report?”
Powers’s skepticism was all over his face. “It’s likely, but, Mrs. Watson, you can’t just show up and expect there not to be an altercation.”
I lifted a brow. “I’m not Mrs. Watson. I never was.” It hurt to say the words. “I was someone he met and took advantage of.”
Powers shook his head. “I’m just trying to remember what I’m doing here.” Once again our eyes locked. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m trying to stick to a strategic plan. That’s what PI’s do. We plan.”
I nodded understanding, but I heard what he said. Trying to remember what he was doing here. My heart was thudding.
“Mrs. Wa—”
“Please, call me Tamera.” My voice was husky.
“Tamera, I can’t in good conscience let you go deal with this by yourself. Plus, I mean, you used the word ‘widow’ last week and now you have a gun.”
If I hadn’t noticed he was looking past me at my bags on the counter, I would have lingered on the fact that he’d actually said my name. It was the first time and coming off his tongue it sounded like it was spun in silk.
I shook my head. “Forget I said ‘widow,’ because if something should happen to the scum, something like a bullet in his head, then I would have said I was going to kill him and you’ll be a witness.”
Powers stood and took the few steps necessary to the counter. He pulled the gun case from under the bag and opened it.
“I got it from a pawnshop. I actually inherited a rifle from my grandfather, or grandmother. It was hers after my grandfather died, but it’s too big to lug around.”
Powers nodded. “Do you think your grandparents would want to see you in prison?” I looked down at my sneakers. Thought about my brother. “I’ve watched people, a lot of them women, go to prison every day over a man and some money, or a man and some woman. It happens, Tamera. Don’t do this.”
Tears were threatening to break. Powers’s hands were on my forearms. “If you have to go to Vegas, let me go with you.”
I wanted to fall into this man’s arms. I was under his superpower for real. I was broke, scared, angry as all get-out, and at this moment very vulnerable to his touch. Leon and I had made love every day. I missed it. Now I knew how and why women slept with their lawyers and therapists. The need for affection was dancing on every nerve ending in my body. Lord help me, I thought. I moved out of his grasp.
“I have to preach tomorrow evening’s service. But I promise we can leave first thing Monday morning.”
Preach? “Did you say ‘preach’? You’re a preacher?”
“Evangelist. I’m still in ministry school. I deliver the evening message on the last Sunday of the month.”
“A preaching private detective?”
“Yep.” He put his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“How do you do this work and then minister the Word?”
“I think this work really helps with the ministry. I mean other than a street ministry, where do you see and get closer to the problems, fragility, and fears that we have?”
I thought about all that Powers had witnessed in my life and realized he was right. He’d seen me at the lowest moment in my life. There wasn’t much worse than betrayal.
“Will you wait for me?” He almost sounded like he was begging. Those lush brown eyes looked like they were.
I nodded yes. My angel had dropped from the sky.
Chapter Twelve
I reconsidered. I didn’t want to involve Powers in this mess. Especially now that I knew he was Minister Powers. Not that I really planned to kill Leon or that garden tool he was held up with, but I wasn’t above shooting a brother in the toe to get my money back. I’d seen Leon’s toes. The man was fine, but those toes were not. That raggedy pinky toe definitely wasn’t worth that much, so if a sista had to fire off a round . . . well, so be it.
I thought about calling my thug cousin Dre and asking him to come with me, but with Dre came drama. Four times in the county lockup and one three-year stint upstate, Dre was a career criminal with a hot temper. I’d end up in a shootout with the Las Vegas Police Department, the SWAT team, and Homeland Security messin’ with my crazy cousin. At a minimum we’d go to prison, but more than likely, we’d be killed.
Powers wanted me to do things the legal way. Wait on the bank, get a lawyer, when I knew the only way to deal with my lowlife husband was face to face with the barrel of the .45 pointing at his chest. That was the way to get the money out of the box.
The phone rang and it was Erin. Her voice lesson was over. “Fill me in, girl,” she said and I told her everything, except the part about Shooter’s Galaxy.
“Dang, Tam. I was just kidding when I said he was a crook. I mean, he’s a crook for real. You could have been hurt or killed. People like that will stop at nothing to get what they want.”
Finally, some sympathy from my unsympathetic friend. “It’s pretty deep.”
“So what’s up next? I mean, what you gonna do? Try to press charges or something?”<
br />
“Powers is checking on some things. We’ll figure out a plan after that.”
“Powers; that’s a nice name for a detective.”
“It’s Kemuel Powers.”
“Sounds like a brother. I keep hearing the word ‘we.’ Is he single?”
I thought about Powers and wanted to tell her how absolutely yummy he was. How tall and handsome and smart he was, his nice full lips and . . .
“Tam, is he single or what?”
She’d messed up my fantasy. “Girl, I don’t know. I think so. He doesn’t wear a ring, but then again, half the time neither did Leon.”
“Well, you find out for a sista. I might need to hire him to check a background or two out for me.”
“What’s that got to do with him being single?”
“Honey, you know those cop and detective types like a damsel in distress. All I gotta do is turn on the tears and if a background check come back bad, I can slide Powers in as a pinch hitter.” Erin laughed at her own joke. She was getting on my last nerve.
“I’ma go. Snapped is about to start and I don’t like to miss the beginning.”
“You need to stop watching all that craziness and get out of that house,” Erin replied. “Come go to the singles service with me tonight.”
Singles service. Was she out of her mind? “Good night, Erin.” I hung up the phone.
It really was time for Snapped. The episode was about a murdering con artist. Great, the one thing I didn’t want to see, but I watched it and turned off the television when it was done with a new knowledge. Con artists never stay anywhere for long. I had already decided that I was going to Vegas alone, but this new information confirmed I didn’t have time to wait for Powers. Leon and Delilah had been in Vegas for over a week. They most assuredly would be leaving soon.
I picked up the phone and called Roman’s Palace, and asked for Desiree Holmes, the alias Delilah was using. “Please hold for Ms. Holmes,” the attendant said. I hung up before it connected because I’d found out what I wanted to know. They were still there.
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