Black Mayhem

BLACK MAYHEM

Copyright © 2013 by M.A. Michaud

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CHAPTER ONE

JAYDEN BLACK STOOD at the glass-cased counter of Donuts & More, eyeing the numerous concoctions in front of her. The smells. Oh, the smells were so heavenly! Fresh pastries. Cakes galore. Fresh-baked bread. Grease and calories. What more could a girl want?

This was her idea of heaven. She really loved this pastry shop. Who was she kidding? She laughed softly at herself. She loved all pastry shops, this one just happened to be close to home.

Her cell phone rang as she salivated in front of the cases. She rolled her eyes when she saw the number pop up on the caller ID. She couldn’t even escape her mother on a Saturday! She loved her mother dearly, but some days, she just needed a break. Living across town could do that.

Hi, Mom, she said, forcing a brightness into her voice. It was just too early in the morning to deal with her mother’s zaniness.

Jayden, where are you? I called your house but you didn’t answer. Are you coming for dinner tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding me, Jayden thought, shaking her head. Right off the bat, she was rushing into this conversation. Phone conversations between mother and daughter were generally always the same. But it was Saturday. The needed break would have to wait.

Ribs? Jayden asked, her eyes never leaving the cases in front of her. Saturdays were barbequed ribs night and everyone knew her mother made the best ribs in town.

She eyed the cases, momentarily blocking out the sound of her mother’s voice, licking her lips as she eyed a new tray of delectable-looking pastries being brought out. She’d been standing at that case for so long, licking her lips, she was sure she’d eaten off her lipstick already. Food was her nemesis and all of her friends and family knew it. Her mother, especially, knew she could bribe Jayden with food at any time. Jayden knew it, too, but did little to stop it. She didn’t know if she could stop it, or if she even wanted to stop it.

Of course, her mother was saying, bringing her back to the present. Baked potatoes. Fresh corn on the cob. Lyla Black knew which buttons to push with her eldest child and she pushed them hard when she wanted something. Even if that something was just the company of her daughter. She paused. You know how hard it is to find fresh corn on the cob this time of the year.

Yes, Jayden knew. She was reminded often about the scarcity of certain foods at various times of the year. Like farm-fresh strawberries in December. I’ll be there at six, Jayden sighed. When was she going to develop a backbone when it came to her mother? And food? She probably never would. Her mother seemed to have an endless supply of food in her vast arsenal. And used it shamelessly when the need and mood struck her.

Jayden paused as a young man rushed into the shop, looking around, panic tightening his face. His lightweight khaki jacket was rumpled, his dark blue tie askew and his black hair looked as though it had been combed with an egg beater. He flattened himself against the far wall, but kept peering out the large, flyer-covered window at the street in front of the shop.

Jayden’s gaze followed his, and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she smiled, thinking he was doing it all wrong. He needed to find someone else to watch out the window for him if he was playing the cloak and dagger game. Really. Didn’t people get the rules of these kinds of games?

You’re sure you’re coming? her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts. Sometimes you say that, but work comes up and you can’t. Work won’t interfere tonight?

Jayden grimaced. I’ll be there, mom. Trust me. Work isn’t going to get in the way tonight. In fact, I might be there early.

Oh don’t say that, Lyla said eagerly and then sighed. Much as your father and I would like that, you’re rarely early. I’ll plan dinner for six.

Fine. I’ll be there at six.

There was another pause and Jayden knew her mother had something else to say. Then, finally: You’re not bringing the beast, are you? Lyla asked, then quickly added, I spent all day yesterday cleaning the house—.

Jayden knew the beast her mother referred to was Boomer, her dog. No, I’m not planning to bring Boomer.

Boomer, a massive part German shepherd, part Chinese Chow and part whatever, had been part of Jayden’s family for almost four years. Jayden had found him on a highway in the middle of a thunderstorm. Soaked, cold and hungry, he’d cowered from her when she’d tried to get him into the car. Even though he was skinny and scared, he still weighed a good seventy pounds and by the time she’d managed to get him into car, she was soaked and cold, too.

He had jumped and whined every time thunder had rattled the windows of her tiny apartment close to the college that night, earning him that name. She’d placed ads, called the pound, everything she could think of, and when no one had responded within a month, she’d kept him. Four years and a nice house later, he still didn’t like thunderstorms, so the name still fit.

It’s not that I don’t like him. You know I do. It’s just that all the cleaning I’ve done and he’s such a big dog and he likes to wag that tail and knock things over.

Jayden let her mom ramble. She knew how Boomer was, which was why she rarely brought him with her to her parent’s house. Mom, I know that. I don’t bring him often, you know. Sometimes he just likes to go for a ride, too. And he likes to visit Dad.

I understand that, dear. It’s just that I’ve done all this cleaning for next Saturday and I’d hate to have to start all over again.

Jayden slapped the heel of her left hand against her forehead. Next Saturday was her mother’s birthday party. While Jayden hadn’t exactly forgotten the party, which was evident by the shopping bags at her feet, she had forgotten that her brothers and sisters would be coming. That meant she had to get a few spare rooms ready, as one or more of them generally camped at her house for these things.

Maybe forgotten wasn’t the right word, because who could forget her brothers and sisters. Maybe the right phrase should be temporary memory lapse. It had been known to happen once or twice a year with the Black women. She grinned at herself. She was being silly so early in the day.

No, Mom, you won’t have to do any re-cleaning because of Boomer. He’ll be safely tucked away at home.

Okay, dear. I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll see you at six.

Jayden snapped the cell phone shut and returned it to her bag. She blew out her breath before giving her attention momentarily to the young man still plastered against the wall. With a grin, she turned her full attention to the goodies in front of her. It was time to make her purchase and get home.

~*~*~

Peter finally glanced around him at the patrons in the shop, his gaze falling and resting on the redhead at the counter.

As he watched, she removed the cell phone from her ear and slipped it into the monstrous handbag she had slung over her shoulder. She was looking at the selections of pastries, her lips moving as she talked to herself about which tasty treat she wanted to enjoy. She looked friendly. She looked intelligent. She looked fairly well put together. Except for that short spiky red hair. And her clothes.

He touched the plastic CD case in the pocket of his jacket. He had to get rid of it and soon. If he didn’t, Simon and the boss would get their hands on it and no one would ever know the truth about them or know why he had died.

He touched the case again, his fingers moving almost sensuously across the hard plastic. It contained all the information he had on Simon and his crew. He hoped it was enough. It had to be enough.

The disc contained files he’d compiled over the past few months. He’d spent most of the previous night typing notes, editing and moving things around so it made sense to the reader and then copying it to the disc. It was saved on his computer, but he held little hope the police would ever have the opportunity to check that. And even less hope that the police would even find his computer once he was dead. Unless Jean were on the case.

He looked at the woman again. In the midst of his panic, of his fear, a plan was formulating. He approached the woman, tidying his hair with hands that trembled slightly. The sweat was drying on his forehead. He felt calmer than he had all morning and felt confident that he could talk with this woman long enough to get rid of the disc.

What do you recommend? he asked casually, stepping beside her. Somehow he’d kept the fear out of his voice. He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking.

He looked at her profile a little closer. Her spiky red hair could be considered ‘cute’ by some, but not on a woman in her late twenties, and she had to be somewhere in her thirties. Cute was reserved for babies and teenagers, right?

She was dressed in camouflage cargo pants that didn’t quite meet the tops of her ankles, giving the appearance that they were too short for her. Her bright red socks clashed with her yellow tennis shoes, as if ketchup and mustard had been tossed on her feet.

And the shirt. A loud Hawaiian print shirt in bright greens, reds, yellows and blues. What was she trying to accomplish with the camo pants and the loud shirt? Or had she just crawled out of bed and threw on whatever happened to be handy? The entire ensemble was ridiculous, he thought, and that opinion was only confirmed when she swung her head in his direction and he caught the full force of her dangly earrings, complete with parrots. They nearly touched her shoulders. Good Lord, she was a pirate wanna-be? He sighed in frustration. Just his luck.

I have a fetish for pastries, so I can’t recommend just one. Her voice was husky, smoky, and it rolled over him.

He smiled vaguely, already regretting approaching her. Maybe she wasn’t the best choice. He looked around the shop. It wasn’t packed, but it was busy enough. He would have other selections, although because of The Cat pacing the sidewalk, he felt his time was limited.

There was an older woman sitting by herself at the window. She looked approachable. As he watched, however, she got up, tossed her trash in the bin and walked out the door. So much for that.

The remaining patrons appeared to be in pairs or more, which let them off the hook. He needed a solitary person. So, that left the redhead. Story of his life lately.

He looked at her again. As he stared at the spiky hairstyle, it started to grow on him and he had to admit it did look rather good on her. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. He just needed to get rid of the disc.

Her blue eyes were clear and bright in color and fringed with heavy lashes and, surprisingly, wide awake. That meant she hadn’t truly just crawled out of bed before coming here. Laugh lines radiated from the corners, putting her definitely into her thirties. So, was she trying to hang onto her youth with the hairstyle and outrageous clothing?

Her face was devoid of makeup, except for lipstick, contradicting his earlier assessment. Maybe she just didn’t wear much makeup.

Her nose, presently almost touching the glass of the cases as she gazed at the selections, was small and tilted upwards slightly at the end. He admitted to himself that she was attractive in a basic sort of way, but not someone he’d consider having a relationship with, even if he wasn’t already taken. His silent chuckle was borderline hysterical, his eyes momentarily wild.

Are you in a hurry or could I tempt you with a pastry and some conversation? he finally asked, deciding he really didn’t have any other alternatives today. He was getting desperate to get rid of the disc and it looked like she was his last hope.

She jumped, clearly having forgotten that he was standing next to her.

My treat, he continued as she hesitated.

I’m that transparent, huh? she said, giving a husky laugh. Okay, pastry and conversation, your treat. She mentally kicked herself. Damn, how cheap could a woman be? Not that the man held any interest to her, but still.

Now, she said, turning back to the case, the hard part is trying to decide which one to have.

The clerk behind the counter finished with her box of doughnuts and rang them up at the register. Jayden dug the cash out of her pocket and handed it across the counter. Then she looked at the man still standing beside her. Uh, here she was, buying a dozen doughnuts and him buying her a pastry. Feeling a need to clarify, she gestured to the box.

For my parents. Her smile was quick. They’re having a brunch thingy at their house this morning and I said I’d bring the doughnuts. The truth was she was taking them home for herself. Well, herself and Boomer but mostly herself. However, did this man really need to know that?

The man relaxed somewhat and smiled. Of course.

She seemed relatively normal despite her appearance, but was she the right choice? He still wasn’t convinced. Yet, he reminded himself, there just really wasn’t much of a choice. He felt panic rising and squelched it ruthlessly.

He turned back to the case and selected a Bavarian cream filled monstrosity with chocolate frosting. Jayden looked at it and felt her mouth water.

Make that two, and add a coffee, she said to the clerk. Can’t have Bavarian cream without coffee, she added, her gaze never leaving the treat as the clerk put them onto paper plates and rang them up.

Might as well make that two coffees, the man smiled. He rattled off some mocha-caramel-whipped cream concoction that made Jayden smile, while at the same time, tempting her.

The man dug out his wallet and fished some money out. When the clerk gave him his change, he stuffed it into his front pocket. Jayden frowned. From what she had seen of his wallet during the time he’d had it open, brief though it was, he was rather anal about how his wallet was organized. What kind of guy just shoved money into his pocket like that with all that anal-ness going on?

Shrugging, she waited while he took the tray of goodies, picked up her box of doughnuts and led him through the maze of tables to one in the back. She sat with her back to the wall. Noticing his curious look, she smiled.

I’m a people watcher and I can’t do that if my back is to people.

He nodded slowly. He’d actually wanted to sit where she was, but wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. He could still watch the sidewalk in the front and see part of the entryway. That would have to be good enough.

He dug into his pastry. Here was a man who knew how to eat a pastry, she thought, watching as he picked it up and turned it several times in his hand, looking for the best place to take the first bite. She was slightly pleased that he wasn’t a knife-and-fork kind of pastry eater, as her sister was. That had always bugged her about Lois, her need to be so neat and tidy with everything, including her food.

She watched as he found the perfect spot and bit into the delectable treat, Bavarian cream pooling around both sides of his mouth as he bit down.

He immediately raised a napkin to his mouth and Jayden smiled.

Happens every time, she grinned, taking a bite of her own to prove it.

They shared a laugh and he put his doughnut down. Wiping his face and hands on a napkin, he held out his right one. Peter Browne, he said, smiling.

Jayden put her own treat down and wiped her mouth and hands, too. She took his hand in hers, noticing how soft and free of calluses his hands were. Jayden Black, she said.

So, Jayden Black, he said, picking his doughnut up again, what does the lady do for work? The question sounded forced, contrived, and he winced.

Jayden grinned. I might ask the same question of a certain Peter Browne, she said, then paused, her eyes widening. Do you realize both our last names are colors? she asked, giggling.

Peter’s doughnut paused halfway to his mouth. That was his sign. I hadn’t noticed, he said slowly, meeting her gaze, but now that you mention it, it is kind of funny.

Kind of, Jayden repeated, her blue eyes dancing. She took another bite from her doughnut. When she’d swallowed, she said, It’s hilarious! How many times during the course of a day does that happen to you?

He paused, taking a bite of his doughnut and chewing. It doesn’t.

Jayden nodded vigorously. Exactly. For me, either. I don’t think ever. In my life.

So that means you’re not going to answer my question, he teased, enjoying the easy conversation they’d fallen into.

Oh yeah, I got so carried away with the name thing that I forgot you asked one. Sorry. I’m a computer game analyst.

Computers. She worked with computers. She seemed almost too flighty, too scatterbrained, for computers. Maybe that was the ruse. There was no reason for a ruse, he argued with himself. He felt better than he’d hoped to at this point. Better than he’d expected. His day had suddenly gotten a whole lot better. This was great. Relief flooded him.

You play video games?

She laughed. When you put it that way, you sound like my mother. No. I actually find glitches in games before they’re put on the market. I guess I’m a tester of sorts and I get the advantage of playing games before other people even know they exist. What about you?

While debating the best way to answer that question, Peter shoved the remainder of his doughnut into his mouth and chewed slowly. How much did he tell her? Not much, would be his guess. The better to protect her.

Well, right now, I’m in school, he fibbed, feeling heat creep along his ears. My grandparents left me some money and I’m living on that while attending school.

Jealousy flared briefly through Jayden. Being the oldest of five hadn’t given her that opportunity, but she’d managed to put herself through school while holding a full time job. Some people just got the breaks.

That’s great, she said, surprised that while she had felt that brief touch of jealousy, she meant it.

He smiled vaguely, looking around. He had to ditch the disc and get out of here. He was going to get caught by that goon walking around out there. Worse, he might jeopardize Jayden, something he didn’t want to happen. She was his salvation at this point. His only salvation. If she were seen with him, she would become a target, too.

He looked at Jayden’s handbag sitting on the floor beside her. He needed to distract her long enough to slip the disc into it. He slid his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the disc, keeping his hands under the table and out of sight. He’d scanned and printed a cover of a Beethoven CD he had and inserted it into the jewel case, hoping to disguise the real contents it held.

He hoped it worked. He hoped she’d be curious about the contents of the case and not throw it away based on the cover. He hoped her computer could read this disc. If not, he hoped she knew someone who had a computer that could. He hoped he lived to see another day. He hoped he could see Jean this weekend, as they’d planned.

Keeping his hands under the table, he turned the disc repeatedly, wondering how best to distract her. Food. That appeared to be her weakness, but how to capitalize on it. That was the question.

What’s your favorite food? he asked lamely, searching for anything to keep their conversation going while he planned what to do with the disc. He couldn’t let her out of his sight until he’d deposited the disc with her.

She laughed, the sound floating lightly through the shop. Everything. Well, not quite. I don’t like broccoli or Brussels sprouts or liver and onions or pancakes. Everything else is open season.

He grinned. Except for the broccoli and pancakes, which I love, I won’t eat that list either.

He felt that familiar panic take hold of him when he realized she was gathering her trash and looking around for a trash bin. He needed to shit or get off the pot, because the time was hand.

The panic turned to relief when she finished gathering their trash and headed to the nearest bin, leaving her handbag on the back of her chair. He stood quickly, sliding the disc into the zippered opening of her handbag. As he returned to his side of the table, he expelled a large sigh of relief.

As she gathered her items, she stuck out her hand to Peter.

Thank you for the doughnut and conversation. Both were quite nice.

It is I who should be thanking you, he said