“One of those fancy affairs with pallbearers who dance like the Temptations? Or your regular home-going service with a family car, an organist, and color programs?”
Melissa traced a French fry through ketchup. “The color program one.”
“Cremation or casket?”
“Can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” Melissa grabbed the large cup of soda and sipped through the straw. She grimaced. “Is this diet?”
My mouth popped open, then closed. “Yeah. Sorry. I automatically order diet Coke.”
She said, “Ugh,” then sat the cup back on the table.
I couldn’t help but notice her dry lips and tear-stained cheeks. Ketchup and Thousand Island dressing smeared the wedding band and two-carat diamond engagement ring she’d “helped” him buy. The same woman who had graduated magna cum laude at Spelman College and had a PhD from UCLA. Recognized for her commitment by sororities and churches and families who she had kept together or helped to create.
Why hadn’t she chosen a man like she’d chosen her schools, her career, and her fresh produce? Why—?
A sob burst from my chest, surprising me and startling Melissa.
“What’s wrong?” She grabbed my wrist. “Why are you crying?”
I’d kept it together for so long, but my seams were giving. I took deep breaths to tamp down the hysterics. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in this situation.” I hiccupped, then met her gaze. “I’m glad Kirk’s dead. It’s his fault that you’re sitting in this wretched room. It’s his fault that he’s in somebody’s steel drawer. Maybe if he would’ve controlled himself, maybe if he had respected you and—”
“Stop, Dani. No more.” Melissa shook her head, then tossed me napkins to dry my face.
I blew my nose and wiped my face. “I’ll shut up. And I’m sorry, okay? Last thing I want to do is make life harder for you.” I plucked a French fry from the basket. “Hey, I have an idea.”
Melissa let her head roll back to stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”
“What if, after the funeral, we take a trip back to Saint Thomas? This time, we’ll stay as long as you want. Even better, you sell the house, I’ll sell my condo. We can live like Caribbean queens. Drink all the rum we can stand. Read books, swim in clear water, eat jerked everything. Maybe open up a shave ice stand. Lead a simpler life. What do you think?”
She gazed at me, and a look passed between us, one that couldn’t be caught on that video camera. Melissa smiled and there was light there, a glimpse of the sand-flecked woman who had danced the merengue all night with a stranger. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
I held up the ketchup-dipped fry. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
She held one up, too, and touched mine. “To new beginnings.”
But first, we needed a proper ending.
Chapter 18
New beginnings” meant more smiles, less humiliation. Respect. No drama except the kind you invited into your home via Netflix.
Kirk Oakley was dead. Someone had to pay for that. That someone should be the woman who drove a cherry-red Mustang. It seemed so obvious that Sophia Acevedo had killed Kirk—the lies, the violence, the panties, the texts—but as the afternoon progressed with no, “Hey, Dani, good news, we made an arrest” call from Ian, worry draped over me.
Why was Melissa still in not-custody?
If they hadn’t arrested Sophia, who were they looking at now?
Were they looking at…me?
Shit.
Was it illegal to sleep with the detective working the case?
Had we been followed from the café to his town house?
Had Ian been arrested or demoted for sleeping with the sister of a possible murder suspect?
But I didn’t have time to worry. I’d had a successful meeting with my client and it was now five o’clock, when I needed to pick up Jonah.
Daycare was complete chaos. I could barely pick him out of the millions of children catapulting off the walls. How could the teachers stand it? The roar of wood blocks hitting each other. The Wiggles set on blast. This sea of small bodies with sticky hands made my ovaries shrink.
Jonah flew into my arms, then speed-walked to retrieve the Tumi knapsack he’d brought today. On the drive home, we chatted about his day—the construction paper jack-o’-lantern and ghost he’d made during art time, his tater tots and cut-up chicken lunch, the classmate who bit a boy who had tried to take her blanket. As I pulled into the underground parking lot, he asked, “Is Mommy in your house?”
“Not yet, sweetie. She’s still at her meeting, but she’ll be home tomorrow. Promise.” My face warmed as I climbed out of the car.
“Grill cheese?”
I sensed before I saw the black Crown Victoria parked at the end of the garage. Only the orange parking lights were on. Shadows hunkered in the car’s front seats.
Jonah slammed the car door shut.
The two men in the Crown Vic looked our way.
“Dee-Dee,” my nephew shouted, “say ‘echo, echo, echo.’”
I took his hand and smiled down at him. “Not now, sweetie. We should get moving.” I glanced back at the black car. “The faster we walk, the faster we get to eat grilled cheese.”
The air down here was still and heavy. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered—didn’t I pay Home Owner Association dues to prevent that from happening? I would write a strongly-worded letter after making dinner for my nephew. After this endless walk from my car to the elevator.
I heard the doors of the Ford thump.
Jonah dropped the knapsack. “Wait for me, Dee-Dee.”
I glanced back at my nephew—and saw that the two men were climbing out of the car.
Jonah scooped up the knapsack, then dropped it again.
The two white men, both blond, wore sport coats and ties. They strode toward us, lock-step, like two Agent Smiths from The Matrix.
I grabbed the backpack and my nephew’s hand. “Let’s go, Jo-Jo.” I thought of grabbing the knife and pepper spray from my bag; but assaulting police officers, if that’s who they were, would not be the best move.
“Auntie,” Jonah said, “Oww. You’re holding my hand too tight.”
My heart banged in my chest as we hurtled toward the elevator bank. My heels clicked against the concrete.
“Echo, echo, echo,” Jonah shouted. “Say it, Dee-Dee.”
“Excuse me, miss?” one of the men shouted.
The answer to my question—who were they looking at—had just been answered.
Jonah looked behind us—and what he saw worried him, made him walk quicker and closer to me.
“Wait, if you please,” the other man called.
We’d been walking toward that green EXIT sign and the parked white Jaguar for days, it seemed.
Agent Smiths’ heels clicked quicker against the concrete—they were walking faster.
I’d have that new beginning after all. One that included icy handcuffs, an orange jumpsuit, and Cup Noodles from the commissary.
Could Kopp represent both Melissa and me?
We finally reached the security door and I shoved my key into the lock.
A man’s hand pulled open the door from behind me.
I let out a small cry.
Jonah hid his face in my dress.
“Sorry if we scared you.”
The taller man was the one holding the door. “We need help, but first…” He smiled down at Jonah, then held out a pumpkin made from orange and black construction paper. “You drop this, little guy. Here.”
Jonah peeked from behind my dress and plucked his project from the man’s hands.
“Okay,” the taller man said, “the parking lady point us to overnight parking but we don’t know where overnight parking is.” There was a lilt in the shorter man’s voice. Norwegian?
I blinked at him, then barked, “Huh?”
The two men looked at each other, then looked at me. They smiled, then together, they said, “We’re
lost.”
Chapter 19
The Norwegians weren’t the only ones who couldn’t find their way.
Unable to settle down, Jonah and I wandered from the kitchen to the bathroom to the bedroom, amped and anxious from our parking garage encounter. After dinner—grilled cheese sandwiches with hamburger patties—I gave my nephew a bubble bath. He climbed into bed and fell asleep ten minutes into Little Einsteins.
Glass of red wine in hand, I checked my phone for the fiftieth time. No calls.
Short hours later, the sun found the sky. Time to do it over again.
This time, Jonah wanted bacon and eggs. As we ate, we played Twenty Questions.
“Does it have fur?” I skimmed my fingertips across the boy’s cheek.
Someone knocked on my door.
I glanced at my iPhone—only seven-twenty. I stepped over to the door and peeked out the peephole.
Copper spirally hair that always looked wet but was gelled hard. Eyebrows tweezed until they barely existed. Bright red lipstick and painted-on mole. Pink velour sweat suit and wedged Uggs. Sophia Acevedo.
“Is that Mommy?” Jonah asked.
I forced a big smile on my face. “No, sweetie. Just an old friend who…Come on.”
With his plate of eggs and toast in one hand, I used the other to guide Jonah to my bedroom. “This won’t take long,” I promised him.
Back in the kitchen, I pressed Record on my phone and left it on the counter. In case Sophia got a little rowdy, I grabbed the cleaver from the knife block.
“Hey, Dani.” Sophia Acevedo’s skinny arms were crossed over her heavy bosom. Even though she didn’t move, her cheap-smelling perfume wafted freely into my condo. “I know I shoulda called first but…” She tapped silver-polished fingernails across her arms. “But I figure with the circumstances, you’d understand.”
“Your probation officer’s still parking or did you make a break for it again?”
“Ha. May I come in?”
“Jonah is here, so don’t bring your brand of nonsense into my home. Understand?”
She held up both hands. “I’m good—for real, I’d never hurt Kirk’s baby.”
I pulled the door wider and stepped aside as she entered.
“You didn’t answer none of my texts.” Her eyes flicked over my track pants and sweatshirt. “I thought we was homies.”
“That was then. This is now,” I said. “And you were threatening me.”
She grimaced. “Threatening? You’re joking, right?”
“All caps and exclamation points?” I said. “The ‘get a good night’s sleep’ thing? ‘Watch your back, bitch’?”
She shook her head. “I always keep the letters all-caps. It’s just easier. Watch your back cuz someone hurt Kirk. I call everybody ‘bitch,’ you know this. And I hoped that you did get a good night’s sleep cuz…I know I didn’t.” Her bright-red lips quivered, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Do y’all need anything? Is the baby okay? He need anything? Kirk loved that boy.”
I cocked my head and squinted at her. “This compassion act? It’s just that, huh. An act.”
She dabbed at her eyes with her knuckles. “I know me and your sister got beef, but I loved him, Dani. That’s the God’s honest truth. So whatever y’all need—”
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
“I sure as hell didn’t do it. I woulda married that man if he had asked.” Her gaze dropped to the weapon in my hand. “C’mon, Dani. That knife really necessary?”
“It’s a cleaver. What do you want, Sophia? Why are you here?”
“I came cuz I wanted to be a comfort—I didn’t want to, you know, mourn all by myself.” She raised her chin. “But I guess you don’t want that from me. And anyway, the detectives cleared me as a suspect.”
Something inside of me exploded and I coughed. “Excuse me?”
“I got an alibi.” She reached into her Vuitton clutch.
I flexed my fingers around the handle of the cleaver.
“Since you wanna go there, let’s go there.” She pulled out a thin square of paper in the air. “This right here? It’s an ATM receipt. It says I got out money at 9:03 in Hollywood when Kirk was killed. Hol-lee-wood. Not in Baldwin Hills.” She roamed my living room, stopping to peer out the window. “There’s video. I’m on camera getting money out.”
I shook my head.
Her nostrils flared. “See? That’s your problem. You ignore the truth even when it’s right there in y’all’s face, even when it’s on camera. I was sleeping with Kirk all over that house, and in her bed. And what she do? Look the other way.
“And he chose me.” Sophia’s braggadocio flagged and her hand clasped her neck. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him. Oh, Dani…” She looked at me with wet eyes.
What did she want from me? A hug? A “that’s okay, sweetie”?
“I wish I could take it back,” she said, shaking her head. “We had an argument the last time we was together. I told him…” She sniffled, shook her head again. “I didn’t think, when I told him ‘good-bye’ that I’d never see him alive again.”
I tapped my foot, glanced at the imaginary watch on my wrist. “I’m not gonna stand here and tell you that it’s gon’ be okay. You should probably go now.”
“Fine. You wanna know who killed Kirk even before he dropped dead on Sunday?” Her eyes gleamed with cold fury, and she pointed at me with a rigid finger. “Your sister. She didn’t deserve Kirk, and she was jealous of us and killed him. And because of that? Best believe that I’m gonna do everything in my power to destroy her.”
Someone knocked on my door.
Sophia smiled, and said, “Starting right now.”
Chapter 20
Are you going to let us in?” Reverend Leland Oakley stood at my door, fedora in one hand, and the elbow of his wife—Kirk’s mother—Virginia in the other.
Virginia Oakley wore her fall coat, taupe with fox fur collar and cuffs. Her eyes were as swollen as the pearls around her neck, and her café au lait complexion was splotched red. A thin woman, she looked skeletal in that big coat.
With a close-lipped smile, I opened the door wider, and allowed the couple to pass inside.
“Oh, Sophia, honey.” Virginia took the mistress’s face into her hands, then kissed her cheeks. “Thank you for sending us Dani’s address—I had it somewhere, but with everything going on, I just couldn’t put my hands on it.”
Reverend Oakley held out his arms for a hug. “Come here, girl.”
He was a big man, and smelled of pipe tobacco and lavender.
“I’m so sorry,” I said—and I was.
He tugged at the brim of his fedora. “We were leading a marriage retreat up in Vancouver when Melissa called and told us the news.”
Virginia came to kiss my cheek. “I still can’t believe it. I keep telling Leland, ‘they made a mistake, it can’t be true, not my baby.’ Not my Kirk.”
With a sad smile, Sophia rubbed the woman’s back. “If you need anything, please let me know. Kirk was like a big brother to me.”
I cocked an eyebrow and said, “Sophia was just on her way out.”
Reverend Oakley’s expression mirrored mine—he knew the devil on sight.
After Sophia left my condo, I turned to them. “I wish I’d known you were stopping by. I would’ve had breakfast—”
“We didn’t come to eat.” Reverend Oakley placed his hat on the breakfast counter. “We came to retrieve Jonah.”
My gut clenched. “Huh?”
Virginia touched my wrist. “Thank you for watching over him, but we’re here now. His bedroom is ready.”
“At his house?”
“No,” she said. “At ours.”
I pinched the skin at my throat. “That’s really unnecessary. He’s fine—”
“Relax.” The minister held up his hand. “We’re only following instructions that Melissa and Kirk left in case of severe emergencies. Didn’t she call you and let you know?”
>
I shook my head, and pinched my throat harder. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Virginia pulled from her purse a thick sheath of paper, then handed it to me.
If my wife does not survive me, or is unable to care for my children, and it is necessary to appoint a guardian, I appoint Melvin and Dolores Lawrence guardians of my children. If for any reason Melvin and Dolores Lawrence do not act as guardians, I appoint Leland and Virginia Oakley as guardians of my minor children.
In the event his parents couldn’t care for Jonah, Kirk’s sister Noreen would be next. My name came after everyone else had died. I was stunned and numb—my name was so far from Jonah’s.
“And even though Melissa’s alive,” Reverend Oakley was saying, “she is incapacitated. She admitted as much when we talked to her yesterday.”
Yesterday? I’d seen Melissa yesterday, and she never mentioned that the Oakleys were taking Jonah. What the hell?
“Pop-pop!” Jonah raced into the living room and threw himself into his grandfather’s arms. “Nana!” He reached more delicately for his grandmother.
The trio hugged, kissed, and nuzzled, and soon, lipstick covered Jonah’s face.
Leland squeezed his grandson’s shoulder. “Wanna come stay with us?”
Jonah shouted, “Yeah!”
My heart broke—he’d chosen them over me. Like Melissa had chosen Noreen over me. But then, way out in Yorba Linda, nearly forty miles away from Los Angeles, the Oakleys had three dogs, a deluxe jungle gym, a swimming pool, and all the grilled cheese sandwiches Jonah could eat.
Hell, I’d choose to live with them, too.
“I’ll help you get your things together, Jo-Jo,” Virginia said.
Jonah led his grandmother to my bedroom.
“You tell him about his father yet?” Reverend Oakley asked.
I shook my head and sank to the couch. Speechless—my broken heart had also broken my mouth.
The minister sat next to me and took my hand. “Believe me, Danielle, this is hard on all of us.”