Sunset Beach(113)

“How do you hide a body in a hotel room?” Drue asked. She could hear the oven timer ticking away.

“He put her in the big cleaning cart Jaz had brought when she came up to the room. Then, he had me put on this hat she always wore, like, pulled down over my face so couldn’t nobody watching the security cameras tell it was me instead of her, then I took it on down to the laundry room. He was supposed to take that cart out of there, and do something, but before he could get there, one of the other girls, Lutrisha, she came in there and started dumping out the dirty sheets, and that’s when she found the body.”

Neesa picked up the wineglass. It was empty. “And then all hell broke loose,” she said.

“I can’t believe this creep Byars got away with killing Jazmin,” Drue said, her indignation sincere. “Didn’t the police or anybody else ask you about any of this stuff? Are they that clueless?”

“I talked to the cops, I didn’t tell ’em anything. Some private investigator dude came to the dry cleaners where I was working, asked me a couple questions about Jaz, but hell, I’m not that stupid. After that, I went off the grid, big-time.”

She sighed and peered down at the test strip of hair. “Yeah. This looks real good for the first go-round. It ain’t all the way platinum, but I think I could come back next week and take it to the next level.”

“Next week?” Drue glanced over at the hair on the paper towel. It was a pale orange.

“No charge,” Neesa said, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Let’s get this party started.” She removed the towel from Drue’s head and began combing and clipping it into quadrants. She pulled out a long strand of hair and began painting at the hairline.

“Ow!” Drue screeched, feeling the burn of the bleach on her scalp.

“Oh yeah,” Neesa mumbled. “I think I was supposed to put some Vaseline on your hairline to keep the chemicals offa you before we started. You got any Vaseline?”

“No!” Drue screeched. “I don’t have any damned Vaseline.”

The oven timer dinged.

Rae Hernandez walked into the kitchen. “Time’s up, Neesa,” she said pleasantly. “And you’re under arrest.”





52


Neesa’s jaw dropped open and she struggled to jump up from the chair, but Detective Hernandez easily pushed her back down.

“Stay seated,” Hernandez said, her face stern.

“Who’s she?” Neesa asked, pointing at the newcomer.

“This is my friend, Detective Rae Hernandez, with the Treasure Island Police Department,” Drue said. “She’s been listening in the other room.”

“Shhhhhiiiiit.” Neesa buried her head in both hands. After a moment, she looked up, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Y’all got to know, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with what happened to Jaz. That was Byars. He said he’d fuck me up bad if I didn’t do what he said.”

“Okay,” Hernandez said. “Let’s talk about what he said and did, and what you said and did.”

“What? Aw, hell no. I been running and hiding out from that dude for two years. I can’t talk to you. He’ll kill me. He told me that night, he would kill my ass if I ever said anything to anybody.”

“You already did.” Hernandez walked over and picked up the cell phone. She held it up and showed it to the other woman. “And we’ve got you live and in color.”

“That ain’t cool,” Neesa said angrily. “You can’t bug somebody without asking their permission. I know my rights. I ain’t saying nuthin’ else. I want a lawyer.”

“You forget, I was in the next room, listening, and I heard every word you said,” Hernandez said.

“Look, Neesa,” Drue chimed in. “Aren’t you tired of running? Look at it this way. It’s him or it’s you. I think you should talk to this detective.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think.” Neesa folded her arms defiantly across her chest.

“Okay,” Hernandez said. She whipped a set of handcuffs from her belt and snapped them over the girl’s wrists. “Neesa Vincent, you’re under arrest for murder and accessory to murder. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law…”

“I never killed nobody,” Neesa protested.

Hernandez pulled Neesa to a standing position. “Let’s continue this at the police station.” She gave her a gentle push in the general direction of the front door.

“Don’t touch me,” Neesa hollered. She turned to Drue. “You saw her. She tried to knock me down. Put that camera back on again. I want this shit recorded.”

“Enough chitchat,” Hernandez said, putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Drue followed the two women outside to where Hernandez had parked her Honda Odyssey across the street.

“Get in,” Hernandez said, opening the passenger door.

“What the hell kind of bougie police car is this?” Neesa said. “I bet you’re not even really a cop.”

“Shut up,” Hernandez said, taking a seat behind the steering wheel. She lifted a lock of Neesa’s hair and whistled softly. “Girlfriend, I don’t think this purple hair of yours is gonna look too good with that orange jumpsuit you’re gonna be wearing.”