He wasn’t surprised to find Leslie and Omar alone together. Leslie stood naked except for her high heels and was bent forward over the tattoo table. Omar’s denim jeans were wrapped around his ankles, his pelvis thrusting back and forth against her buttocks. His one hand clutched the side of the table. The other was tangled in the length of the woman’s hair as he pulled the silky strands with each push of his hips.
Leslie moaned and groaned like a porn star, the oohs and aahs easily meriting an Academy Award–winning performance. Omar spat profanity, dirty words tangling around his tongue. Neither noticed Mingus standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the doorjamb. He cleared his throat and gave them both a slight wave of his hand when they jumped in surprise.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
“Yo, dude! What the hell?” Omar snapped.
Leslie let out a little scream, crossing her arms over her chest. She scrambled for her clothes, holding them up to hide herself.
“Did you forget something?” Omar asked.
“Some information,” Mingus answered. “I forgot to ask you about your cousin, and that tattoo you did for her a few weeks ago.”
“My cousin?”
“Alicia Calloway. You might know her as Alicia Champagne. She dances over at the Boys’ Room. You gave her a tattoo identical to the tattoo you did on my friend.”
Omar suddenly looked nervous. He grappled with his pants, adjusting himself as he pulled up the zipper. “You need to get out!” he yelled.
Mingus crossed the room in two swift steps. His hand was around Omar’s neck, lifting the man off the ground. Before Omar knew what was happening Mingus slammed him hard against the table. Leslie gasped loudly, her eyes like two large saucers. She stood frozen, unsure if she should move. Mingus took a step back as he released the hold he had on the other man.
“I’m not going to ask you twice,” Mingus said.
Omar looked like he was about to cry. His hand was shaking as he pressed his fingertips to the rising bruise around his neck. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are. I know your entire family. Damn dirty cops, the lot of you!”
Mingus shook his head. “Don’t talk about my family.”
“I know your father’s the police commissioner. You all think—” Omar started. He clearly wasn’t expecting the floor suddenly rising to slam him in his face. His knees buckled, his feet flying out from under him so quickly he probably didn’t know how it happened. Blood was spewing from his nose, spattering down the front of his white T-shirt as he lay sprawled on the floor.
“Ouch!” Mingus exclaimed. “That was a nasty fall, Omar! I’d hate for it to happen again. That looks like it might be painful.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Leslie said, beginning to beg. “Please, don’t hurt him!”
“As long as someone gives me some answers, I’m sure Omar won’t have any more accidents. Now, I really don’t like repeating myself,” Mingus said calmly, standing over the man. “So, where were we?” His gaze turned to the receptionist. “Maybe you can tell me, Leslie. Why would Omar give a stripper the exact same tattoo he gave another client?”
Omar was still shaking away the chaos that had filled his brain. Tears rained out of his eyes as his nose began to clot. He stood slowly, moving on shaky legs to his feet. “Look,” he muttered, “it was no big deal. Her boyfriend paid me five thousand dollars to do it. Cash!” He and Leslie exchanged a look.
Not missing the goo-goo-eyed exchange, Mingus turned his attention back to Omar. “Whose boyfriend?”
“Alicia’s boyfriend. His name’s Rourke Something-or-other.”
“Did he say why?”
“I didn’t ask, man. It was good money and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Did you take a photo of it for your book?”
Omar pointed to the cabinet where the portfolio had been returned. “Yeah,” he said. “But not for my book. Just to keep.”
Mingus gave Leslie another look. “See if you can find that photo for me, Leslie. I also want the picture of Ms. Barnes.”
Still mostly naked and holding the skimpy shorts and tank top she’d been wearing, Leslie moved to the cabinet and a stack of images stored on a top shelf. She lifted the image in question from the pile and then slipped the other from the plastic sleeve in the photo album. She moved back to hand both to Mingus.
“Thank you. Omar, I’m going to need you to make a formal statement about doing this second tattoo.” Mingus reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He tossed it in the man’s direction. “First thing in the morning will be fine. I’ll see you around ten o’clock.”
Omar was still shaking. “I’m going to press charges! You can’t do this!”
Mingus waved his index finger from side to side, stalling the other man’s comment. “Leslie, how old are you?”
Leslie gave him a bug-eyed stare, her anxiety level seeming to rise substantially. “Why...how come...” she stammered.
“Because,” Mingus said matter-of-factly, “I don’t think you’re eighteen years old yet. Which means Omar just committed a crime. Isn’t that right, Omar?”
Omar suddenly looked sick. “She’s legal! Tell him you’re legal!”
Leslie rolled her eyes skyward, her attempts at modesty completely forgotten. “You can’t prove anything,” she quipped, one hand falling to her narrow hip.
“How many kids at Riptide knew about Ms. Barnes’s tattoo, Leslie? Who’d you tell?”
She rolled her eyes a second time. “Everyone. She walks around the school all high and mighty, so why not?”
“And you showed them that picture?”
“Yeah! The jocks had a party and we passed it around. It was a good laugh.”
“Tell him you’re eighteen!” Omar yelled, singularly focused on his own situation.
“She could,” Mingus said, “but she and I both know that’s a lie, don’t we, Leslie?”
Leslie moved to the door, her naked backside shimmying from side to side. “You don’t scare me!”
Mingus laughed. “Maybe not, but the video I took while you two were doing what you were doing should scare both of you. I would hate for that to fall into the wrong hands!”
“Video? You son of a...” Omar was suddenly shaking, his words catching in his throat.
Mingus gave him a look then turned back to his companion. “And I’m going to need a statement from you, too, Leslie. To corroborate Omar’s statement. You can tell your father you just want to do your civic duty. He’ll understand.”
The girl’s eyes widened yet again. She looked like a deer in headlights as she stared at him. “How do you know my father?”
“The congressman is a good friend of the family and I’m certain he would be very disappointed to see what you’re up to in your spare time.”
Leslie’s demeanor suddenly turned contrite. “You can’t tell him! Please, I’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t tell my father!”
“Then you just tell the truth. All you must do is tell the police what you know. It’s that simple.”
Omar tossed up his hands in frustration as Leslie stormed out, stringing a long line of profanity behind her.
“Ten o’clock,” Mingus repeated, tossing Omar one last look. “And don’t make me come look for you.”
Chapter 8
When Mingus walked through the doors of his brother’s office the next day, Ellington was right there to greet him.
“You assaulted a witness?” Ellington snapped before even saying good morning.
Mingus responded with a wry smirk. “Now why would I do something like that?”
“His face looks like someone used him for a punching bag.”
“Is he going to press charges?”
“No. He says he fell. But that’s not the point.”
“Then we don’t have a problem,” Mingus answered. “Did he tell you about the tattoo?” He passed his brother the file folder he’d been holding, the two images he’d taken from Omar the previous night inside.
“He did. Have you found the other woman with the second tattoo?”
“Yeah, but I still don’t know what her connection is to the boy, just that they’re acquainted with each other. And I’ll be honest, I doubt she’s going to give up any information if she doesn’t have to. Right now, she doesn’t have any incentive to talk and as soon as she realizes we’re on to her that tattoo might become fish.”
“Fish?”
“Or dolphins. Or something. I don’t know which.”
Ellington stared at his brother, his eyes blinking away his confusion. He shook his head and changed the subject. “How’s our client doing this morning?”
“She’s fine.”
“You are keeping it professional between the two of you, right?”
Mingus and his brother exchanged a look. He shrugged his broad shoulders but didn’t bother to answer. He hadn’t spoken to Joanna, only sending her a text message to say he had an early morning meeting. She had already responded, wanting to know if she would see him. Asking about his plans after and what if anything else he’d discovered. She was frustrated and anxious and there was little he could do to alleviate her angst.
For reasons he couldn’t begin to explain he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. He had enjoyed the time they’d shared at the tattoo parlor. He had liked that, for a few minutes, what had been between them had been everything but professional. Any other time, any other place, had their circumstances been different, or had she been any other woman, he would not have cared about any business relationship. He would simply have allowed himself to enjoy her. But Joanna was his sister’s friend and damn near family and that in itself made her off limits.
His attraction to Joanna was palpable. She excited him. He appreciated her spirit and found her determination admirable. She knew what she believed, and she allowed nothing to sway her from her principles. She was the calm before a storm and fire in the midst of rain. She was everything he imagined himself wanting in a woman. If he wanted something with a woman! But he didn’t. He didn’t do relationships and he wasn’t interested in any happily-ever-after. Besides, she was a client and neither his brother, or his sister, had any plans to let him forget that.
“Please, Mingus, tell me you haven’t crossed the line with that woman!”
Once again Mingus ignored his brother’s question, changing the subject. “What about Ramos? He give you anything else helpful?”
“He’s adamant that it was just a financial transaction. The girl and her boyfriend wanted that tattoo in the exact same place and they paid well for it. He insists he doesn’t know why it was so important to them. But we have his deposition and if it goes to trial, he’ll testify.”
Mingus nodded. “I need to take off. I need to figure out what’s next. I’ll call you when I get something else.”
Ellington slapped his brother on the back. “Be smart out there, please. We can’t afford to take any risks that might come back to bite us.”
“Speaking of...”
Ellington began to slowly shake his head. “Do I even want to hear this?”
“You’re going to get a call from Congressman Franks. His teenaged daughter wants to corroborate Omar’s statement.”
“His daughter?”
Mingus shrugged. “Yeah. She’s responsible for them knowing Joanna had a tattoo and where it was. She worked for Omar and they had a relationship, of sorts. I’m sure she’s nervous about that getting out and his ass going to jail. Apparently she lied about her age and he fell for it. Or so he says.”
“She’s underage?”
Mingus nodded, his brows raised ever so slightly.
“You know I’m obligated to report it, right?”
“That’s why I’m dropping it in your lap. They’ll both deny it I’m sure but do what you have to do as long as you get their statements to help Joanna.”
“I swear, Mingus, you never make anything easy for me.”
“I love you, too, big brother!”
* * *
Mingus was blasting an old Eminem CD as he maneuvered his car across town. He still wasn’t sure where he was headed; part of him wanting to get lost and disappear for a few days and the other part needing to see Joanna. Despite his best efforts the woman had gotten under his skin. She was an itch he couldn’t scratch, and he was beginning to think that taking on this case had not been a good idea. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, unable to focus long enough to figure out the pieces to the puzzle. Nothing made sense to him and, still being unsure about all the players, he couldn’t begin to know how to twist and turn things into place.
He bobbed his head in time to the beat. The deep rhythm of the song “Mockingbird” vibrated through the space. He was desperate to lose himself in the music. To cloud his head with thoughts that didn’t revolve around the stunning woman, and then he remembered he had a case to solve and that put Joanna Barnes right back in the center of his mind. Taking a deep breath, he engaged the car’s Bluetooth and dialed her number.
* * *
Joanna was surprised when her new cell phone rang. She hadn’t been expecting any calls, few people having her new number. The device rested on the kitchen counter in the same spot she’d laid it the day Mingus had given it to her. She was even more surprised and suddenly excited when she realized he was the person calling. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Joanna, it’s Mingus. Are you busy?”
“Mingus, hey! No, I’m not busy at all. I was hoping to hear from you.”
“Do you feel like getting out of the house?”
“Yes,” she said, responding quickly. Maybe a tad too quickly, she mused after the word had jumped out of her mouth. She should have at least paused to take a breath, she thought, sensing that she’d probably sounded too enthusiastic. Usually, Joanna was more disciplined when it came to the opposite sex. She paced herself in new relationships, artfully containing her enthusiasm until she’d fully assessed a situation. Careful not to show her hand until she was sure she, and whoever, were on the same page. With Mingus she found herself reacting instead of responding.
She took a deep inhale, releasing it slowly. Then she repeated herself. “Yes, I would love to get out of this house.”
“Great! I should be there in ten minutes. I really need to go to the gym and I thought you might like to tag along. Working out relieves stress. At least, that’s what they tell me.”
Joanna giggled softly. “I don’t know about all that,” she said. “Personally, I’m not fond of sweating.”
He laughed. “Trust me, it’ll be good for you.”
She paused before responding. “I do trust you,” she answered. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”
* * *
The Chicago weather was stuck in that nanosphere between winter and summer. The days were beginning to warm too rapidly and cold lingered far too long in the late evening hours. Residents were dressed in layers and forecasters were regularly predicting afternoon thunderstorms with chances of hail.
The midday air felt like spring and Mingus drove with the windows down, allowing the last remnants of the day’s cool breeze to ripple through the car. Joanna closed her eyes and enjoyed the draft of air that blew past. They were both relaxed, enjoying the moment as they caught up and he shared what he’d learned.
“I recognized Leslie from the yearbook in your bedroom,” Mingus was saying. “She was a student at Riptide until her father transferred her to a private school last year. She admitted to showing everyone that picture of you and your new tattoo.”
Joanna sat straighter in her seat. “She was a student at my high sch
ool?”
“Yeah, her sophomore year.”
“And you recognized her from a yearbook picture?”
He shrugged. “Photographic memory,” he said nonchalantly.
Joanna shook her head. “I don’t remember her at all, but then I don’t get a lot of freshman or sophomores in my advanced classes.”
“Well, she remembered you. Said you walked around all high and mighty,” he said with a slight smirk. “That’s why she did it.”
“Reason number 145 why teachers can’t have a life.”
“Unfortunately we still can’t prove it wasn’t you in those photographs, only that someone else has an identical tattoo.”
“But you talked to the girl, too, right?”
He nodded. “Her name is Alicia Calloway. But I haven’t been able to tie her to David Locklear. And we still don’t have a reason for why someone would go to so much trouble to set you up.”
Joanna turned to stare out the open window. The city sights were flying by as Mingus drove a touch too fast to get them to wherever it was they were going. Joanna still didn’t know their destination.
“So what gym do you use?”
He smiled. “The one in my apartment.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “We’re going to your home?”
“Unless that makes you uncomfortable?”
She stammered, shaking her head as she suddenly felt slightly out of sorts. “N-no. I just wasn’t expecting... I thought we...hell, I don’t know what I thought.”
“Sorry, I’m not a people person. I avoid public places whenever I can.”
“That’s not a good thing, Mingus.”
He laughed. “Now you sound like my mother.”
“Judge Black is a very wise woman.”
Mingus cut an eye in her direction. “I forgot. You’ve actually met my mother.”
“I have. In fact, I’ve gone shopping with your mother and your sisters a few times. The women in your family are very people-oriented.”
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