Sunset Beach(78)

“Is that why you left the Gulf Vista?”

“Not really. I was up for a managerial position, but they promoted somebody else, a white guy, who had less seniority and experience, over me. He didn’t even have any college. I was fed up. I’d already put in applications at some other hotels out here, and when the Silver Sands called, I went like a shot. You know, if Jaz had left when I did, maybe she’d still be alive. I think about that a lot.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

He sipped his coffee. “Let me think. I know the cops asked me that, but it’s been so long. Lots of nights, we’d go out after she got off her shift, if our schedules worked out okay. Sometimes, I’d get us a room here, so we could be together, and then she’d go home, like around two in the morning, because her mom had to get to work, and Jaz was the one to take Aliyah to school.”

“According to the hotel, the day she was killed, Jaz’s car broke down on the way to work.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that Kia was a hunk of junk. But it was all she could afford.”

“She called her mom and told her she was going to have the car towed to a garage, and then she took a cab and got to the hotel more than an hour late.”

“I bet Byars reamed her ass out,” Jorge said.

“That’s the head of housekeeping?”

“That’s him. Total jerk. He was always at Shelnutt’s little parties.”

“Could he have been the one who was coming on to Jazmin?”

“Absolutely. Another piece of crap.”

“Did you know Larry Boone? One of the other housekeepers told me he grabbed her and propositioned her more than once.”

“Scary Larry, that’s what the girls called him,” Jorge affirmed. “When Shelnutt wanted to have one of his little parties, Larry Boone, who was head of engineering, would put a room ‘out of order’ so the front desk wouldn’t rent it to guests. That’s where the parties would be.”

“Back to the night she was killed. Byars told the cops that Jazmin asked to work an additional shift, because she’d gotten to work late. Do you think that’s true?”

“I never knew her to work an overnight shift,” Jorge said. “She and Aliyah lived with her mom, and the mom had to get to work in the morning. That’s why she never stayed overnight with me, and always went home, even though I didn’t like her driving home alone late at night like that. That neighborhood she lived in is kinda rough.”

“One of the other housekeepers told me that Jaz’s best friend was another housekeeper. Neesa? Did you know her?”

“Kinda.”

“What’s that mean?” Drue asked.

“I know she and Jaz were tight, but I wasn’t really a fan.”

“Why’s that?”

He toyed with the paper band around his coffee cup. “I thought she was a bad influence. This will maybe sound racist, coming from somebody like me, but I can’t help it. Neesa was pretty ghetto.”

“How so?”

“The way she acted. She was all about the partying. She’d get high at work. Like a lot. And I could never prove anything, but I think maybe she was into some other bad stuff. Jaz mentioned it one time, that Neesa wanted her to get in on something, but Jaz wouldn’t. You know Jaz got busted for shoplifting when she was in high school, and she had some weed on her. She told me she got in with the wrong crowd back then, and she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. She wanted to be a good mom for Aliyah. That kid was everything to her.”

“What kind of stuff do you think Neesa was into?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? She was Jaz’s friend, not mine.”

“She was working the night Jazmin was killed, according to the police reports. She left the hotel ten days after the murder. I’d really like to talk to Neesa. Do you know where she is?”

He checked his watch. “Right now? Probably doing J?gerbombs at Mister B’s.”

“That’s a bar?”

“In Seminole. I met her and Jaz there a couple times. Loud country music and kind of a rough crowd.”

Drue pulled up the blurry photo of Neesa and Jaz that she’d found on Jazmin’s Facebook page. “This is Neesa, right? It’s the only photo I could find of her.”

“I’ve got a better one,” Jorge said. He scrolled through the photos on his phone, then held it up for Drue to see.

It was a selfie of Jazmin and another young black woman. Their faces were pressed close together, and they were captured mid-laugh. Neesa’s complexion was two shades lighter than Jazmin’s, and she had a nose with a slight hook. While Jazmin’s hair was worn short and natural, Neesa’s was an elaborate architectural feat.

“This is her.” He tapped the photo. “She’s really good with hair, with the braids and whatever you call it.”

“Great.” Drue handed the phone back. “Now I’ll know her when I see her.” She handed Jorge her business card. “If you can think of anything else I might need to know about Jazmin, I’d appreciate a call.”

“You’ve got my card too,” he reminded her. “Can you let me know what you find out? Like, if the police catch who did that to her? I’m still so sad, you know? Jaz, she was just getting her life together. We had plans…”