by M. Z. Kelly
“Do you think this guy might have been making unwanted advances toward Jezzie?”
“It could be. I don’t really know. All Jezzie told me was that he wouldn’t leave her alone and that Barry was angry about it.”
“Do you think anyone else might know who he was?”
“I doubt it. Jezzie didn’t share a lot of personal stuff with other people, but I guess you could ask around.”
I told her that we would do that and said, “Is there anyone else you can think of who was bothering Jezzie?”
She shook her head. “Just Barry. He was an asshole, excuse my language.”
I gave her my card. “Do you think maybe you could also ask around the school and let me know if you get the name of the guy who was hanging around her?”
Sandra took my card, walked away, and went back to her stretching.
We were in the car, headed back to the station to end our day with paperwork, when Charlie’s phone rang. It was linked to the car’s Bluetooth system and we both heard Kyle Gooch come on the line.
“We just got through with Latisha Hill at the Bakersfield brick pile,” Gooch said. “It reminded me and my bro of that section eight housing near Florence.”
“Did Ralston tell her anything about Jezzie being stalked?” I asked.
“Mr. Happystick told Latisha a lot of things, considering he was her secret love lizard.”
“What? You mean they were involved?”
“Ten-four. That’s where the local dope dicks got it all wrong. Barry capped Tyson Gray the other night because of the green-eyed monster. It had nothing to do with drugs.”
“What else did Hill have to say?” Charlie asked.
“Here’s where the mama drama gets interesting. Barry engaged in a little pillow talk with Latisha one night. Not only did he say that Jezzie was being stalked, he told her that before she was murdered she had a bun in the oven.”
I looked at Charlie as we both said, “Pregnant?” I then said. “What happened to the baby?”
“Jezzie miscarried. Lost the little swimmer after only a few weeks.”
“Was Ralston angry about that?” I asked.
“Oh, he was angry, all right, but it had nothing to do with the miscarriage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Barry told Latisha that he and Jezzie were having a lot of problems. Sascrotch and our vic weren’t doing the rumble in the jungle. He wasn’t the baby daddy. Somebody else got Jezzie pregnant.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was after eight by the time I’d grabbed a bite to eat with a girlfriend and dragged myself home. My bones ached, either from fatigue or maybe some rare Bakersfield virus that I’d contracted in the land of fractured fairy tales, bad air, and redneck cops.
Bernie and I found our roommates gathered in the family room. They were drinking Chica Loca, Natalie’s boyfriend Tex’s elixir and alcoholic energy drink. I knew right away that Crazy Girl was living up to its name.
“I’m glad our band broke up,” Nana said with a scowl from her chair in the corner of the room after a denture click. Bernie came over to her and sniffed, maybe wondering if it was safe to be near her. “You guys never appreciated my talent anyway. I was way ahead of my time.”
Mo applied another coat of polish to her purple nails. “Yeah, you’re a regular Lady Gaga in a wrinkled-up suit. Maybe you oughta work on a solo career.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Nana said, in her high pitched warble. “As soon as I get back from Vegas maybe I’ll work on it.”
“Vegas?” Natalie said, moving over and making room for me next to her on the loveseat. I saw that her nerdy boyfriend was in the kitchen preparing something to eat. “How are you get’n there?”
“Booked a flight the day after tomorrow. My old boyfriend, Ace, is picking me up at the airport.”
I groaned, asked Nana what time she was leaving, and realized we were on the same Southwest flight. I explained my predicament to the others as politely as possible.
Natalie must have seen my distress. “Mo’s tied up but why don’t I see if I can get on the flight with you, Kate?” Her gaze flickered over to Nana. “You’re gonna need someone to run interference.”
“Thanks, I could use the support.”
“Care for a nightcap?” Prissy asked, taking a seat on the sofa next to Mo with a beaker of Tex’s green energy drink. At six five, a buck fifty, Nana’s gangly great grandson was all arms and legs. He had on a lacy pink dress that matched the color of his hair.
I declined the drink before Nana voiced her plans for the Vegas trip. “Maybe I’ll just ditch Ace and hang with you two. We can make it a threesome, find some real men.”
Natalie visibly shuddered at the suggestion. “Kate and me got our own plans. You can’t interfere.”
“I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Ace,” I agreed with her, trying to take the edge off.
Mo blew on her purple nails, then wagged a finger at Nana. “Besides, if you don’t get laid soon, I’m gonna hire a john to take care of you.”
“What’s he look like?” Nana asked. “Do you know anyone who looks like Johnny Depp? I’d do it doggy style with Jack Sparrow.”
The room filled with a chorus of groans. I thought I even saw one of Bernie’s ears turn down, maybe in embarrassment.
“Give me another shot of that CL,” Mo said to Prissy. “I gotta do a Nana mind purge if I’m gonna survive the night.”
Natalie’s boyfriend came over from the kitchen carrying a bowl. “I made us a little appetizer.”
He placed a bowl of nuts on the coffee table before giving Natalie a smack on the lips. Maybe my friend was losing her eyesight…or her mind. With his unruly mop of black hair Tex looked like a high school geek who’d just blown up the chemistry lab. The geek squeezed onto the loveseat between Natalie and me.
“Thanks for the appetizer,” Mo said, dipping a purple nailed hand into the bowl. “Just what this room needs—more nuts.”
Natalie also grabbed a handful of nuts and then turned to me. “Mo and me got us a little 411 on Jezzie Rose today. She had a sports agent named Chucky Wilson who came ‘round the yoga class a couple of times. According to the students Jezzie acted real nervous when the bloke showed up.”
Mo popped some nuts into her mouth, chewed, and said, “Speculation was that maybe Chucky boy wanted a piece of action from our girl, and just not the monetary kind.”
“Do you think they were involved?” I asked, thinking about what Kyle Gooch had said about Jezzie becoming pregnant, and not by Barry Ralston. If Wilson had been the father maybe he and Jezzie had some kind of falling out that led to violence.
Natalie was into the nut bowl again, along with Nana and Prissy. Bernie came over to investigate and was rewarded by Mo.
“I don’t think Jezzie was the type to play ball in the back room,” Natalie said. “But if she did, maybe it explains why somebody put the big hurt on her. If Barry found out she and Chucky boy had somethin’ on the side he might have taken it out on her.”
My friends knew nothing about Jezzie’s pregnancy and, given their big mouths, I wasn’t about to say anything. I also took a dip into the nut bowl, remembering that Sandra Weimer had said someone was hanging around Jezzie’s practices.
“Do either of you know what Chucky Wilson looks like?” I asked.
“He’s got a website,” Mo said, before taking a gulp of Chica Loca and downing more nuts. She pulled her laptop off the coffee table. In a moment she had the sports agent’s site on the screen.
“Looks like a player to me,” Mo said, turning the screen so that Natalie and I could see it.
“I know the type,” Natalie said. “A two legged dick bouncin’ around on his big balls—nuth’n but attitude and swagger.”
I had to agree with her. Wilson might have been a dick but he was a handsome dick. His website said that he played in the NFL at one time, but he looked nothing like the man Sandra had described.
Mo closed her
laptop. “All I know is that from what baby sis and me heard in class today, Jezzie had lots of admirers. Chucky Wilson and Barry Ralston were probably both after her cause she was young, hot, and famous.”
I thought about Ralston saying that Jezzie was not the person everyone thought she was. Maybe there was some truth to what he’d said. After my friends made a couple of more comments about Jezzie, I again warned them to stay out of the case.
Natalie scooped a hand into the nut bowl. “Not to worry, Kate. Mo and me are gonna be busy for the next couple of weeks, anyway.”
“Do you two have a job?”
“You might say that,” Mo said, chewing. “Just think of baby sis and me as a couple of visiting professors.”
“What?”
Natalie had that conspiratorial look that always makes me think of her and Mo as being modern day versions of Lucy and Ethel. “We got us a job teaching a class at WU called, Sex and Relationships. We’re gonna cover everythin’ from the first kiss to raunchy romps.”
Nana’s face twisted up and she did a denture click like she had a nut stuck somewhere. “I’m going to sign up for your class. I’ll bring my friend, Alice. Maybe we can brush up on a few things.”
Mo shook her big head. “Sorry, Nana. This class ain’t for senior citizens. We’re gonna get down and dirty. I don’t think you could handle it at your age.”
“That’s age discrimination,” Nana said, before popping her dentures half way out of her mouth.
“It’s called self-preservation,” Mo said. “And trust me, we’re not teaching the class for the convalescent crowd.”
Nana was pouting, I think. It was hard to tell because she was poking around at her loose dentures, probably nut surfing.
“We were thinkin’ you could teach one of the segments of our class,” Natalie said to me. “Maybe talk about relationship safety, date rape, you know all the ugly stuff that you’re an expert on.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” I said. “Considering my luck with men lately my life is a relationship disaster.”
Natalie wasn’t deterred. “Then maybe you could tell the class what it’s like to have a vagina that’s in hibernation.”
Mo nodded her big head. “Your relationship disasters make you an expert on what not to do, Kate. You could talk about how your marriage failed, then two men dumped you while you were on the rebound. People like to hear ‘bout a good drama dump, especially coming from a cop.”
I hung my head. My friends were what you might call diplomatically deficient but I had to admit there was some truth to what they’d said. “I’m not going to…”
This proves my point,” Tex said, grabbing the nut bowl off the table.”
Nana now had her dentures completely out and mumbled, “What’re…cheu tawking wabout?”
Tex held the bowl out for inspection. “Have you ever noticed that the bigger nuts always tend to come right to the surface, standing out amongst the others?”
I looked around the room. “Now that you mention it, yes. I know exactly what you mean.”
“The technical name for this is the Brazilian Nut Effect. The phrase is descriptive of the phenomenon in which larger objects tend to surface when a mixture of different sized particles is disturbed.” He pointed to the bowl. “The biggest nuts always come right to the top.”
I nodded. “Can’t argue with that.”
Tex went on, “I’m doing a study. My theory is that this phenomena correlates to the social structures in our society. The larger nuts always come to surface.”
I thought about my friends, the police department, our political system. “I think maybe you’re onto something, Tex.”
“Maybe you should publish a scientific paper,” Mo suggested. “I even got a title for it: Eat the Big Nuts First.”
“Nowuts to dat,” Nana mumbled.
Prissy laughed in his high pitched girly way and said to Tex, “I know a couple of nuts that could be donated to your study.”
“For most guys havin’ their happy sack cut off would be considered brain surgery,” Natalie said.
It went on like that for a while, my roommates elucidating on everything from dysfunctional social structures to human sexuality. The discussion was chased by more Chica Loca and another round of nuts. I declined another drink, stood, and said, “I think I’ve had all I can take for one night.”
After getting ready for bed, I got a phone call and heard Pearl Kramer’s deep, silky voice come on the line. The retired detective was in his mid-sixties, with a shock of silver hair, and a baritone voice that reminded me of Morgan Freeman.
Kramer worked cases part-time as part of the department’s deferred retirement plan. He was one of the few good guys in a department that sometimes made it seem like it was every man or woman for themselves.
“Just touching base,” Pearl said. “The lieutenant wants me to help out on the Rose case. I talked to Charlie and he gave me some background. I did a little checking and learned that Jezzie had an agent named Chucky Wilson that she fired. Thought I might try and track him down if that works for you.”
It was the first I’d heard about Wilson being fired. “Any idea why Jezzie cut him loose?”
“Not sure, but I heard that Wilson’s been on hard times for the past year. He lost a lot of his other clients, besides Jezzie. I’ll do some digging.”
“That would be great, Pearl. There’s another subject out there we also need to locate.” I filled him in on the man Sandra Weimer had said was hanging around Jezzie’s practice sessions. “There’s also a personal trainer who Jezzie worked with named Shane Mumford. I’m going to put the Douc…I mean, I’m going to have Gooch and Glade try and locate him tomorrow. Maybe you could tag along if you’re free.”
“Works for me. I’ll be in touch.”
After Pearl’s call ended I made a decision. I was exhausted and in no mood to talk, but I felt obligated to call Mack. I’d met him in a local park before leaving on my trip when Jack had unexpectedly shown up. After an awkward introduction, I’d excused myself and left without further explanation. It hadn’t been the right way to handle things and I knew he deserved better.
When I got him on the line I held my breath and said, “It’s me. The girl who ran off and left you in the park.”
After a hesitation, he said, “How did things go with your mother in Las Vegas?”
“The trip never happened. I got called back to work.” I went on, giving him a brief explanation of my case before getting to the reason I’d called. “I didn’t handle things well the other day, Mack. I’m sorry. I hadn’t expected Jack to show and things…”
“Kate…maybe we should get together tomorrow night if you’re free. I’m going to be leaving town again for a while. It might be better if we talk about this in person.”
I made arrangements for him to come by the house at seven before saying goodnight.
After I turned off the light and pulled up the covers, my eyes filled with tears. I remembered what Mo had said earlier, how my marriage had ended and I’d suffered two failed rebound relationships. I also thought about how I’d felt alone most of my life. Maybe it came from seeing my dad murdered when I was a little girl and growing up without a father figure. I also knew that on some deep level my biological mother had abandoned me at birth and had never made any attempt to see me. I brushed my tears, wondering if being alone was maybe what fate had in store for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning Bernie and I were a half hour late for work. I’d gotten up early, taken my hairy partner for a stroll, and then took a long shower. When I went over to my bed where I’d put my clothes, I’d fallen back asleep. I had fitfully drifted in and out of consciousness until I caught sight of the clock on the nightstand.
I hadn’t realized what a mess I was until I dashed into the station. Charlie looked up from his computer as I stowed my purse in my desk drawer. “You get into a fight last night?” He made a circling motion with a finger in the
air, referencing my hair.
I excused myself and went into the restroom. When I looked in the mirror I was horrified. It looked like my hair extensions had been electrified. They were standing almost straight up on one side of my head, with my real hair trying to poke through the electric curtain.
I spent ten minutes doing my best to control the unruly mess, deciding that I needed to make an appointment at my brother’s salon. Robin was away, but maybe one of his friends could do something with the bird’s nest on top of my head.
“What’s going on?” I asked when I got back to my desk.
Charlie removed his glasses and glanced up from his computer screen. “Did your ex-husband change his appearance when he started cheating on you?”
“What? I’m not sure…I guess…maybe he did something different with his hair. Why are you asking?”
“I’m taking a cheater’s quiz: Ten Signs That Your Mate is Cheating.”
“Are you talking about Wilma?”
A nod. “Listen to this.” He put his glasses on and stared at the screen again. “Has your mate changed his or her appearance recently?” He looked over the top of his reading glasses at me. “Wilma cut her hair, dyed it red.”
“She did that before she met you, Charlie.”
He turned back to the screen. “Does your female partner have a glow about her that you haven’t noticed before?”
“A glow,” I said. “We also glow when we’re pregnant.” I laughed. “Maybe you and Wilma need to have a long talk.”
“Very funny,” he growled. “Lately I’ve noticed that Wilma’s face sometimes shines like a full moon.”
“Maybe that means she’s in love with you.”
He grimaced. “I’m trying to be serious here, Kate.” He went back to reading from the website. “Does your mate seem emotionally distant from you and not care about your opinion?”
“There’s a name for that condition,” I said, then chuckled. “It’s called marriage.”
“Here’s a good one.” He pointed at the screen. “Has your mate’s activities in the bedroom changed? Does he or she want sex less often or not want sex at all.” Charlie looked up at me. “Bingo.”