Fanatically in Trouble

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Fanatically in Trouble Page 12

by Jenny B. Jones


  “I saw all the cars.” Mom peeked around me. “Is there a party?”

  “I thought you had an appointment with Walmart corporate offices.”

  “I got done early.” She looked past me toward the noise. “May I come in or shall I stay on the porch?”

  I pulled her inside, only to find Jaz coming up the sidewalk behind her. “You brought company.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful? She texted me to see if I wanted an ice cream run, and here we are.” Mom’s voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Can you believe I’m hanging out with the Jaz?”

  She was becoming as affected as Henry.

  “Did someone say party?” Jaz hop-skipped into the house, hands raised in the air as if walking into a rave. “What kind of bash do we have here?”

  “It’s a book club.” My eyes challenged her to say one negative thing about a literary meeting of the minds and cobblers. “And you and I need to have a talk. I’ve learned some fascinating details—that you failed to share. ”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that you and America got into a giant argument in your room before the concert?”

  Jaz’s flawless skin blanched. “I can explain.”

  “Will this explanation involve the truth?”

  “Not now, Paisley.” Mother folded her umbrella and rested it in the corner. “Oh, book club. How lovely. My group just read Tolstoy’s War and Peace. What are you discussing tonight?”

  I reluctantly led them toward the gathering. “Something a little more . . . out of this world.”

  The eruption of squeals at the sight of Jaz came as no surprise. My mother wasn’t exactly an unknown quantity herself and received her own share of adoration. Funny to think that level of fawning used to be my life as well. It wasn’t high on my list of things I missed and now wrapped around me like a cloying perfume.

  Sylvie stood, looking like a senior fashion model in her slim black pants and gold lamé sweater. Her angled bob slanted even further as she tilted her head and regarded our new arrivals. “What a nice surprise. Everyone, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law Ellen,” Sylvie said. “And, of course, you know Jaz.”

  The book clubbers clucked and fussed and surrounded Jaz like the new sun in their planetary orbit. They didn’t seem to care that the pop star was a prime suspect in a murder.

  Needing some caloric reinforcement, I filled another plate with a small mountain of snacks and sat back down by Emma.

  “You look exhausted,” Emma said. “I can’t believe the Jaz Fest carried on.”

  I bit into a cracker topped with cheese. “If you knew Jaz, you wouldn’t be surprised. Nothing would stop her week-long celebration of herself.”

  Five minutes later, Sylvie called the meeting back to order. “Let us return to the topic at hand and address a question old as time.” She opened to a marked page in her novel. “All is fair in love and war, but where does teleportation fit in?”

  I saw my mother choke on a cookie, and I sat back to enjoy the rest of the discussion.

  An hour and a half later, I carried a stack of paper plates to the kitchen and tossed them in the trash. The rain had picked up in intensity, and I watched it fall in sheets outside the window.

  “I know you’re mad.”

  I didn’t bother turning at Jaz’s voice. Instead, I walked to the sink and flipped the faucet on, running my hand under the spray ’til it felt warm. “First of all, you need to find new housing. The Sutton Hotel is closed.” Grabbing the bottle of blue dish soap, I squirted an overzealous amount into the water. “And second.” With delayed afterthought, I plugged the drain. “I don’t have a second point. I’m enjoying the first one too much.”

  “Just hear me out.” Jaz leaned on the counter next to me, stabbing her way into my personal space bubble with her machete of excuses. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my fight with America.”

  Slamming down the faucet lever, I spun on my heel. “Not only did you not tell me, but you lied to my face about it.”

  “Yes. I did do that. But things were looking so bad.”

  “Bad as in America was killed in a manner that mirrors one of your songs? Bad as in your people had all the surveillance cameras removed? Or maybe bad as in you lied about seeing America again and got into an argument with her after you publicly threatened the poor woman?”

  “See what I mean? It all sounds terrible.”

  “Because it is, Jaz. Do you take anything seriously? Just because for years your every whim, decision, and mistake have landed you on Easy Street, doesn’t mean this situation will also just work itself out.”

  “I know that. That’s why I’ve hired you.”

  And suddenly the money she’d offered wasn’t nearly enough. I deserved millions for putting up with this. “So America came to your room. What was this argument about?”

  “I told her I knew she had something over on Johnny.”

  “Like what?”

  “In the last few months, Johnny’s all but dropped me to focus on his new little starlet.” Jaz ticked things off one finger at a time. “He set her up with my stylist, my trainer, and my choreographer. He added her to my show. Her last number one hit? That song was supposed to go to me.” She turned away, walking to the large island in the center of the kitchen.

  “What else?” She was hiding something.

  Jaz climbed onto a stool and propped her chin in her hand. “Johnny’s been avoiding me. He rarely calls me back, and if I stop by his office, he’s always in a meeting.”

  “Maybe he is in a meeting.”

  “For the last seven years, he’s dropped everything for me. He knows when I so much as walk into his building, and I’m greeted with my favorite vanilla soy latte, or a freshly made smoothie, or a delicious, ooey-gooey baked good that I pretend to turn down, but take when no one’s looking. But for the last few months, I get none of that. Instead of him jumping up from any meeting to see me, I’m told my manager isn’t in.” She drummed her nails on the granite, her frustration still fresh. “When America started getting preferential treatment is when I started getting the cold shoulder.”

  “She was new, a fast-mover.” And younger.

  “I know that. But Paisley, the reality is I’m still at the top of my game. If my music wasn’t selling, it would be a different story. Pardon me for being uncharacteristically immodest, but do you know who I am?”

  In the last few days, I wasn’t so sure. But I did know she was right—Jaz was still on top of the world in the music business. A manager would be crazy to let her walk away. Unless there was a reason. “Do you think Johnny’s trying to push you out?”

  “Yes.” She nodded gravely. “The question is, why? And that’s what I wanted to talk to America about because I was certain she had the answer.”

  “So you confronted her.”

  “I told her I knew she was holding information over Johnny’s head.” Jaz looked around the room, making sure there weren’t listening ears. Given that this was the home of my grandmother, I was pretty certain every room was bugged, but Jaz didn’t need to know that. “I told America I knew her little secret. I told her people talked in this business, and those people had talked to me. I reminded her of the loyalty I had from folks. Then I said she needed to back off Johnny or else she’d find herself on the receiving end of some threats herself.”

  “You threatened her—again?”

  “Did you see my last movie?”

  “Might’ve missed that one.”

  “I’ve got acting chops, and I used them. I was obviously bluffing. But you can see why I can’t tell the police America came to my room.

  “But now you have a man who works for the city who heard it all. You should probably consider updating the cops before he does.”

  “How much do you think it would take to buy his silence?”

  I forced myself to count backward from five before speaking again. “It’s almost like you want to go to prison.”

  “Paisley
, when I told America I knew Johnny’s little secret, the girl went white as a sheet. For a moment—before she caught herself—her eyes got real big, and she was clearly worried. That totes confirmed my suspicions. She was blackmailing him to get ahead.”

  If so, that certainly provided a motive for Johnny Pikes. “Why don’t you just ask Johnny?”

  “Oh, I did. He flat denied it. Told me I was being paranoid and that all the stress of the last few months was getting to me.” Jaz stabbed the air with her finger. “That man’s hiding something, and somehow America dug it up.” She plucked a cookie from a nearby plate. “So go find out what that is and report back, okay? I’ll need that info by tomorrow. Before five o’clock would be perf.”

  I started to remind Jaz again that I wasn’t a real detective, but took my sassy words and exhausted self and walked out of the kitchen instead. Yet not before grabbing a handful of cookies. If I was going to take the high road, I’d be bringing snacks.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day Henry sat in the passenger seat of my car and ignored me while I rattled off my long list of complaints.

  “And then Jaz stayed up all night watching videos of herself and singing along.”

  Henry looked up from his phone. “All the greats need to practice.”

  “Well, all us mediocres need to sleep. And then she skipped this morning’s breakfast in the park.” If she didn’t turn out for this afternoon’s fashion show, then I was going to drag her out by the hair extensions. We had representatives from five top designers in town for the event, people who had traveled from New York, Milan, and London. They’d brought next season’s creations to share, items created with Jaz in mind. “Jaz’s only job today is to show up, act giddy about the fashion, then share how she’d customize it to fit her personal style.”

  We also had a local designer on hand who would then tell the attendees how to create the look using items they already had or could purchase nearby. Fan fest members would be given coupon packs to shop at a discount at retailers on the square. I was proud of this event I’d come up with last week at two in the morning. It provided entertainment and engagement with Jaz, but it also benefitted Sugar Creek stores. It was a total coup, but if Jaz failed us, it would fall flatter than my hair when the Electric Femmes sang at the rainiest Olympic opening ceremonies in history.

  I pulled into my driveway with enough jerk to earn a glare from Henry.

  “Can we get through this week without my needing a neck brace?” he asked.

  But there was Jaz’s black Escalade, sitting shiny and unused beside us. One beefy security man stood at my front door, staring us down like we were the intruders.

  I ripped the keys out of the ignition just as my phone rang.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “I know I said I’d drop by your office today, but I just received the loveliest invite from the governor and her husband.”

  “Cool.”

  “Oh, dear. I hear that frosty tone.”

  “I don’t have a tone.”

  Henry leaned my way. “You definitely have a tone.”

  I gave him a friendly shove. “It’s fine, Mom. We can reschedule.” I climbed out of the car and walked to the door, flashing the guard my driver’s license.

  “It’s just that Governor Kim wants to discuss a new positivity initiative of ours.”

  I assumed spending time with your daughter wasn’t part of the program. “You go have lunch, and I’ll show you around later.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Pushing the stuck door with my hip, I sighed. “Yes, I’m sure, I—”

  Words died on my tongue at the sight in my living room.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” My phone dangled in my hand as I processed the scene. “What’s going on here?”

  “Jaz’s massage time.” Reese stepped from the darkened living room and had the nerve to put her hands to her lips. “Shhh. She likes it quiet and serene.”

  Henry looked like he’d just won the Power Ball. “Are you saying Jaz is right in there? Naked Jaz is here? In your house?”

  I wasn’t sure what buttons I needed to push to reboot Henry, but he was about to malfunction. “Reese, Miss Quiet and Serene has an appointment at the Sugar Creek Civic Center in an hour.” I could feel my blood pressure rising like cartoon lava. “And I thought I’d asked you to find her new accommodations.”

  “We’re gonna need to push that appointment to two.” Reese adjusted her glasses and offered a wobbly smile. “And Jaz told me to cancel the hotel search. She said you guys had straightened things out.”

  “Did she?”

  My couch was now shoved against a wall, and Jaz lay face down on a table in its former spot. The sound of Middle Eastern music and a trickling brook emanated from a speaker somewhere, and the room reeked of lavender, peppermint, and something unidentifiable that made me want to sneeze.

  “It smells like an essential oil brothel in here.” My heels clicking on the floor, I walked right into Jaz’s den of Zen. “You don’t have time for a massage.”

  Jaz raised her head and lifted the corner of her eye mask. “Reese, how hard is it to do your job? All I asked was that you made sure I wasn’t interrupted.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, she—”

  “She lives here,” I finished for Reese, “and Jaz does not. But what Jaz does have is her own job to do. And according to my schedule that includes a fashion show.”

  Jaz flopped back down on the table. “I’ll be there.”

  “Like you were there at the breakfast?”

  “My presence wasn’t needed.”

  “You were the host.” I had a flash of memory of my mom trying to talk to me as a teenager. Was this how she felt? It was like yelling at a brick wall.

  “I had a long night.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said. “But I got myself to work. And since this is your fan festival, you should too.”

  Jaz waggled her fingers at a gaping Henry before plopping her head back down. “My attorney recommended some self-care. The stress of it all’s catching up to me.”

  “She does look stressed,” Henry said.

  I ignored the skinny massage therapist who hovered between us, uncertain whether to resume, and rounded on Reese. “Jaz needs to be done in time to get out the door at twelve-thirty. Her car will be here at that time but will not wait.”

  “Miss Paisley.” Reese stepped into the fray, wringing her hands. “We’d like to request that the event be pushed back to two o’clock.”

  “Request denied.” I plucked the eye covering from Jaz’s head.

  “Hey!”

  “First of all, I don’t want all this in my house.” I gestured to the entire spa scene. “And second of all, I’m not here to accommodate your whims. We have a schedule to adhere to. Hundreds of men, women, and teenagers have paid big bucks to see you, and you’re going to show up at your appointed time.” I addressed the massage therapist. “This session ends in half an hour. And Jaz, I don’t care if you reek of sweat and patchouli, you will be at the event.”

  “Now just a minute—”

  “And which one of you canceled the homeowner’s security system inside the mansion?” I’d been so angry about the lying bombshell last night, I totally forgot to grill her about the cameras. Mrs. Marple, I was not.

  The room stilled, save for the trickling brook I still couldn’t source.

  “She did it.” Jaz extended a willowy arm toward Reese.

  “You told me to!”

  “I don’t recall that happening.” Jaz held the sheet to her chest, her eyes not quite meeting Reese’s. “Surely I’d recall directing you to—”

  “You specifically asked me to call the homeowner,” Reese timidly challenged. “Remember, I asked if you were sure, and you said—”

  “Fine!” Jaz threw the eye mask on the floor. “Fine. I asked Reese to do that. But she gave me the idea.”

  “Why?” Henry asked from beside me. “I mean, I�
�m certain you had a good reason, Jaz.”

  When this week was over, I was pretty sure the connective tissues to my retinas would be slack from all the eye-rolling.

  “Reese said we can’t trust cameras,” Jaz said.

  “I said that six months ago.” Reese turned down the music. “Last year someone leaked photos of Jaz from her stay at a private resort in Tahiti.” Her eyes pooled with tears. “Removing the cameras was a huge mistake, and if I hadn’t suggested it, we’d know who killed America. And maybe she wouldn’t even be dead.”

  Jaz ignored her distraught assistant. “How could we know the homeowner wouldn’t be taking private footage?”

  “You don’t,” I said. “But now it looks like you singlehandedly removed the one thing that could’ve proven who was in and out of America’s room.”

  Jaz ran a hand through the hair piled on top of her head. “You know that’s not why I did it.” She glanced toward a sniffling Reese. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “And she travels with her own security team,” Reese said.

  “Who can’t be everywhere at once.” I watched Reese’s cheeks turn pink, and I wondered how innocent this assistant was. I couldn’t imagine her hurting a fly, let alone killing another human being. But I’d certainly been wrong before. She knew the cameras weren’t in operation, and she would’ve known about the coffee service in every bedroom. “Reese, what time did you arrive in Sugar Creek?”

  Reese’s brown eyes blinked rapidly behind her glasses. “A few hours before Jaz. I picked up my rental car at the airport, then came straight to the mansion to get to work.”

  “You didn’t stop anywhere else?” I asked.

  “Um . . .” She licked her lips as she considered her answer. “I . . .I stopped at some bagel place in town for something to eat. I hadn’t had time to grab breakfast because Jaz had me repack her bags. But then I came right to the house.”

  I stepped closer to the assistant. “What did you do all day?”

  “I stuck pretty close to Jaz.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “She likes me to be within earshot. You know, in case she, um, yells.”

 

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