After I left the office, I returned home, showered again, and changed my wardrobe. Now dressed in tan business shorts, matching jacket and a red print tank top, I slid my feet into a pair of red, bejeweled platform sandals then set out for the congressman’s home in Buckhead.
I recognized the mansion from the old photo in Ebony magazine. I parked on the street and stared at the imposing mansion then checked my phone. It was the same two-story brick structure built more than thirty-five years ago.
I scrolled through my cell and stopped at what must have been a quarter-century-year-old picture that included Old Man Calloway, his lovely wife, his adult daughter, adult son, and a Caucasian daughter-in-law holding the Calloway’s only grandson, a toddler. A fancy Mercedes Coup had been parked in the circular driveway. Now a flashy Bentley was parked there. A row of hedges buffered the home from nosy onlookers. Hanging baskets of geraniums framed the portico.
The slender housekeeper answering the door looked like she’d stepped off the set of the 80s television drama, Dynasty. Liver-spotted hands smoothed down the starched white apron covering a short black satin dress with lace drawstrings across an ample bust. A delicate white cap crowned the white woman’s silver hair, which was styled in a bun. “Yes?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m Jinx Curry. Mr. Calloway’s expecting me.”
“Of course.” She stepped back as I moved inside the grand foyer. Classical music pumped from hidden speakers, and the choice of music surprised me because I figured Calloway for a blues man like my grandfather.
“They’re in the living room, Ms. Curry. Please follow me.” Her pair of flats clicked on the mosaic tile as she moved down the hall. I followed her and marveled at the abstract paintings adorning the soft gray walls. We hung a left, and my jaw dropped as we stepped into a room right out of Architectural Digest.
A quartet of family members was assembled and seated in the grand area, which consisted of two stories and was furnished with a pair of facing cream sofas, glass coffee and end tables, and four accent chairs strategically situated throughout the room. A bespoke staircase led to the second story of the living room, which featured expensive wall art, plants, and a book-lined wall. I glanced at the maid who gestured toward the family like they were “the new car” she was showing on The Price Is Right.
I strode toward Calloway who was seated in one of the accent chairs. I took the chair adjacent to his. The scent of rosewood floated through the room, overpowering the scent of my cherry blossom shower gel. “Hello, everyone. I’m Jinx Curry. I’m a private investigator with Capricorn Hayes & Associates.”
Four people stared back at me as if I was the entrée for an intimate dinner. My eyes zeroed in on Elena’s mother, Elizabeth. No weaves for her. Elizabeth’s salt-and-pepper hair was flat-ironed, and it snaked well past her shoulders. Statuesque, thanks to her father, who clocked in at six feet seven inches, Elizabeth eyed me warily then slid onto one of the cream sofas. She placed long French-manicured nails into the lap of her flowing print Maxi-dress.
I turned my attention to the only grandson, Nate Calloway III, Elena’s first cousin. From here on, I’d refer to him as Young Calloway. He was sitting on the other sofa, but from his driver’s license that I’d downloaded earlier, his lanky self stood at a paltry six feet one inches. The light-skinned twenty-five-year-old could pass for white. He was roguishly handsome, and he knew it because he cocked his head to the side and winked at me before smirking.
My first interview was with Calloway the second, Elena’s uncle. From here on, to be called Nate Junior. He was two inches shorter than the old man. Very soft around the middle, and considerably heavier. He’d grayed around his temples, and his eyes were bloodshot. I placed my recorder on the coffee table and began asking Nate Junior my first routine questions.
Nate Junior glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Can we get on with it?”
“How would you characterize your relationship with Elena?”
Nate Junior’s pupils shifted a few times then finally settled on the coffee table. “What in the devil kind of question is that?”
I noted the alcohol lingering on his breath. “Mr. Calloway, I’m just trying to get a sense of how she feels about her family.” I looked around and regretted not interviewing my subject alone because all eyes were on me. “Can we take this somewhere more private?”
“What for? We’re perfectly fine here.” Nate Junior unearthed a flask from his back pocket, removed the cap, and took a swig.
I looked to the old man for help, but he just frowned. I cleared my throat. “Did you and Elena have a falling out prior to her disappearance?”
“No,” Nate Junior snapped.
Elizabeth Calloway cleared her throat. She crossed the room, stood over her brother, and placed her fists over her hips. “Of course, they’d had a falling out. They’ve always had a falling out because my Elena was the bastard child!”
“Enough, Liz!” Old Man Calloway loosened his tie and stretched out his legs.
“Yeah. Enough, Aunt Lizzie,” Young Calloway guffawed.
“That’s enough, Nate. I won’t hear of that kind of talk in front of company,” the old man stated.
Elizabeth flashed her nostrils at her father. “But you’ll hear of it in private?”
Old Man Calloway waved her off.
Young Calloway curled his lips. “Well, Aunt Liz’s been in her blank area of—what they call it back in her day? Carpet munching? Yeah, Elena’s just your beard.”
“I won’t tell you again about that kind of talk, son,” the congressman said.
Young Calloway placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Slay, Grampa.”
I knew from reading his file that Young Calloway had graduated from Georgetown with a B.A. in political science. However, he flunked out of his Alma matter’s law school. He shoved his tousled, dark, straight hair out of his eyes and winked at me again. I ignored him. Despite the peach fuzz on his face, he could still pass for a high school sophomore.
Elizabeth turned to me and spoke through clenched teeth. “Jinx, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I won’t because I hate being in the presence of this—” her eyes raked over her nephew “—maggot. So, I’ll give you my card, and we can complete our interview at a later date.” Elizabeth turned on her heels, crossed the room again, gathered her purse, rummaged through it, and produced a business card. She marched toward me and dropped the card in my lap. “Call me.”
“For sure,” I said.
After she swept out of the living room, Old Man Calloway got to his feet. “Enough of these interviews for now. Your text said you wanted to see Elena’s room? Come this way.”
I hastily gathered my things and followed Calloway to the second floor. We stopped at a heavy oak door. “I want you to find her ASAP, Jinx.” He pushed open the door.
I stepped inside Elena’s bedroom and caught my breath. A chandelier floated above a magnificent queen-size tufted sleigh bed. Cream-colored, the bed looked as if it was snatched from the pages of a luxury magazine. I strode past the ornate furniture and into the walk-in closet. As my platform sandals clicked on the marble tile, my eyes nearly bugged out.
Silk and linen dresses hung from velvet hangers. Rows of stilettos gleamed on racks. I spied a few jewels. A diamond tennis bracelet that could pay off my SUV and part of my mortgage felt cold when I fingered it. An emerald choker was nesting on a mannequin. Diamond drop earrings in an open black velvet box. Jeez! What made Elena leave without taking her belongings? Surely, she could have absconded with these items and lived off the proceeds for at least a decade. I breathed in deeply, and the scent of jasmine filled my nostrils.
Where are you, Elena? And why did you leave all of these goodies behind?
“What’re you thinking, Jinx?”
I turned to Old Man Calloway. His lips pressed together in a slight grimace. He swallowed and blinked rapidly. “Well? Answer me.”
“I’m wondering why Elena would leave so much money in this room. It appears to me that she wanted nothing in this room. Nothing from her family.”
“Nothing from my family?”
“No. Nothing to remind her of her family. No pictures. No jewelry. No clothes.”
Calloway scoffed. “Just my money. She’s drawn from her trust fund. I know it. Lots of cash. So she’s paying for everything in cash now. The last withdrawal was from a bank in Beverly Hills.”
“Have you any idea how she got there?”
“She drove her car.”
“Have you or the police been able to track the car?”
Calloway shook his head. “That’s a dead end. I want you to go to that hotel in Beverly Hills. So, I want you on the first flight out ASAP. See what you can find out. Have your boss set it up.”
“Okay. I’m on it.” I turned to leave, but he touched my shoulder roughly, and I shrank away.
“I’m sending one of my associates with you.”
I pursed my lips and wondered what that was all about. Then I shook my head. “I work alone, Congressman.”
He stiffened, and his mouth turned down before he said, “You’ll work with whom I tell you to, or there goes your bonus.”
I drew myself up to my full height and thrust out my chin. “You got the wrong one, Congressman. I do my job as I see fit. If you want to send your associates, send them. Let them investigate, and I’ll carry my happy ass back to my boss and tell him you’re running things like you said. Am I clear?”
Calloway glared before throwing up his arms in surrender. “Have your boss book you into that same hotel that my granddaughter stayed in. It’ll be easier for you to gain information from the staff. And I want a full accounting once you get back, Jinx.”
I stumbled back a step. “Of course.” Then I walked out of the closet, relieved that the old man hadn’t called my bluff.
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