Provocative Passion

“Detective.” Commissioner Meeks moved to envelop one of Sophia’s slender hands in both of his beefy red ones. “We hope you’ve saved room for a big breakfast?”

“Have a seat, Sophia,” Captain Poltice urged, expertly reading the young detective’s stunned expression.

“We know you weren’t expecting this particular cast of characters, Detective,” Chief Franklin conceded once orders for coffee had been taken to the kitchen of the corner bistro where the meeting was taking place.

In truth, Sophia had only received the call about the gathering the night before, after her dinner with Santigo.

“Um, no, not at all, Chief.” She remembered that she hadn’t answered the man’s question.

Her pitiful denial roused laughter from the three men. Chief Franklin’s dazzling white smile was a sharp, attractive contrast against his molasses-dark skin, and it had a quality that settled some of the nerves in Sophia’s stomach.

“I thought I’d only be having breakfast with the captain.” Sophia smoothed damp palms across her sandalwood-colored slacks. “Is anything wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong, Detective,” Chief Franklin assured her. “In fact, it appears that things are finally on their way to being right again.”

“Sir?” Sophia didn’t mind letting her confusion show.

The query wasn’t addressed until the waitress had arrived with the coffees and left with four hearty breakfast orders for bacon, hash browns, eggs and toast.

“Detective, we’d like to start by complimenting your work on the Cole case.” Captain Poltice leaned forward and nodded in Sophia’s direction. “You showed cool professionalism in what is still a very delicate situation.”

“You knew the risk, knew the beehive you were about to aggravate, and still you moved forward,” Chief Franklin added.

“With all due respect, sir.” Sophia scooted forward in her chair. “I’m no statement maker or politician. I was just doing my job.”

“Precisely, and that’s why we can’t think of a better detective for the job.”

“Sir?” Sophia eyed the commissioner, who had spoken.

Commissioner Meeks’s inviting smile came through again. “We’re sure you’ve heard that Detective Hertz submitted his resignation. We’ve accepted it and would like to offer you the chief of detectives post. Will you accept it?”

Sophia ordered her brain to send word to her face that it wasn’t polite to sit with one’s mouth hanging open when meeting with the commissioner of the force. Her brain and her face didn’t appear to be on speaking terms just then, however.

“I, um... This is... I...”

“Perhaps a couple of days to think it over might help?”

Sophia nodded gratefully at Chief Franklin’s suggestion.

“We’ll give you forty-eight hours to get used to the idea.”

“Right.” Sophia pursed her lips at Captain Poltice’s clarification of the chief’s suggestion. The man’s phrasing translated into: “The job’s yours. Get used to it.”

“You were at the top of a very short list, Detective. Actually, you were the list,” the commissioner shared.

Sophia reached for her coffee, gulped it down and tried to smother a cough as the bitter black brew burned a path down her gullet. Though rattled by the effect, she had at least regained a firmer grasp on her verbal skills.

“Sirs, uh...previous chiefs of Ds...they haven’t been posted until they were almost fifty. I’m barely into my thirties and...well, I am almost single-handedly responsible for my successor losing his job. That won’t exactly instill a sense of welcome from my new staff.”

“Perhaps not at first, Detective.” Chief Franklin sipped at his coffee. “But one thing it will instill from the onset is a sense of decorum. It’ll go without saying that you’ll accept no half-assed work, cutting corners or shady measures. Cops under your command will know they play aboveboard or they don’t play at all.”

Sophia nudged her fingers against the handle of the gleaming silverware at her place setting. “What about the cops who think they can get away with it?”

The men traded looks.

“We know Paul Hertz wasn’t at the top of this thing, Sophia,” Roy Poltice said matter-of-factly. “Our new D.A. is on a mission to weed out every bad seed she can find. If she hadn’t made contact with you about it yet, she will soon.”

Commissioner Meeks set his coffee on the saucer with a slight clatter. “We know there’re more rats to be shaken out of this blanket, Detective. When it’s all said and done, we want to be able to show that we’re taking this seriously and that we’re determined to give the force a clean face again.”

“So this is all for appearance sake?” Sophia asked.

“This is about initiative.” Chief Franklin nodded to Captain Poltice. “We’re all in agreement about the fine way you took charge and followed your instincts in getting to the bottom of an injustice.

“And you got results besides,” the chief continued. “You followed every aspect of the case to the letter. Cole’s and Hertz’s attorneys will be hard-pressed to find any improprieties within the investigation.

“Using information we’ve yet to uncover to strike a deal for a lesser sentence is the only leverage they could possibly have. We’d like to take that away from them.” Chief Franklin stirred his black coffee. “Take the forty-eight hours, Detective. Get used to the idea and give us the official call so we can give the media something else to salivate over.”

The breakfast platters arrived, and, after a momentary clatter of plates next to mugs as they were set on the table, the group prepared to dive in.

Sophia watched as the three heavyset men showered their food with salt before they’d even tasted it. “I have just one more question,” she said after eating heartily for several minutes.

“Anything, Detective.” Captain Poltice added butter to his hash browns.

Sophia washed down eggs and toast with a swig of coffee. “As chief of detectives, will I have the chance to take part in the occasional bust?”

Silence hovered over the table until Roy Poltice’s healthy frame began to shake. In seconds, all three of the high-ranking officers were deep in the clutches of ribald laughter. Sophia joined in moments later.

Chapter 3

Santigo’s conversation with Linus following their meeting with the architects went on for a while longer and ended with drinks in Linus’s office. Neither man wanted to admit that it was far too early in the day to be breaking the seal on a bottle of bourbon, but Tigo appreciated that Linus understood his trying predicament.

The partners indulged lightly but joyfully until Tigo remembered he had another meeting to attend. Linus was very persuasive, but Tigo admirably refused another round of the fine liquor.

“Carl and Lester are already inside,” Jenny Boyce’s childlike voice chirped out the information when Tigo arrived in the private lobby outside his office.

Tigo checked the platinum timepiece around his wrist. “They been waiting long?” he asked his assistant.

“Not more than five minutes.” Jenny moved from behind her desk to help her boss straighten his tie. “They don’t look so good.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

That was news indeed since the two crew chiefs were known for their comedic wit and easy smiles. As Tigo’s main responsibilities put him in contact with union reps and oftentimes tense negotiations, working with a laid-back duo like Carl and Lester was one of the few joys his job provided.

“Thanks, Jen.” Tigo smoothed down the attractive olive-green tie with its subtle markings and cleared his throat while pushing open the double doors to his office.

“Gentlemen,” he called out to Carl Roche and Lester Bradford. He made his way across the wide expanse of the room to shake hands with the two men, who waited before the gargantuan desk in the rear.

“Coffee? Somethin’ stronger?” Tigo offered.

“Nah, thanks, T.”

It didn’t take much more than those few words from Carl for Tigo to share Jenny’s assessment of the men’s moods. “Is there trouble brewing in the ranks?” he asked.

“This isn’t union business,” Carl said.

“It’s personal,” Lester tacked on.

Tigo shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Talk to me,” he offered in the blunt, inviting and informal manner all Joss Construction employees had come to love about him.

“You remember my boy Kenny?” Lester asked as he, Tigo and Carl took seats.

Tigo smiled, nodding from his perch at the edge of his desk. “How is he?”

“Working.” Lester’s smile hinged between pride and something akin to sorrow. “Last year in high school. He’s working for Greenway Construction.”

“Ugh.” Tigo twisted his face into a playful frown. “Working for the enemy, huh?”

“Hmph, in more ways than one.”

Tigo’s amusement transitioned quickly into agitation. “What’s goin’ on, Les?”

Lester braced his elbows on the knees of his khaki work pants and smoothed a hand back over his dark, balding head. “Some weeks back, Ken went to Carl’s son, Ian, about makin’ some extra money.”

“Right.” Tigo nodded, knowing that Ian Roche was one of their part-time crew members. “We don’t own him, fellas. Ian’s free to work with another company if he wants to.”

“That ain’t the problem, T.” Carl Roche’s face was a bit flushed beneath his honey-toned complexion. “The extra money wasn’t from a construction job, but some...errand, and both the boys are sittin’ downtown right now in a cell on a carjacking charge.”

Tigo blinked—stunned. He knew the kids had taken work to earn extra money for college. To help their parents, both boys had agreed to start school a year later in order for their folks to get better prepared before they were hit with the expense.

“What can I do?” Tigo leaned forward, shifting his gaze between the two men.

The worried fathers traded uncertain looks. “We were hoping you could tell us, T.” Carl Roche sighed.

“The public defenders on the boys’ case are useless.” Lester slumped back in his chair. “Judge says he wants to make an example of ’em.”

“They haven’t been in trouble before, have they?”

The fathers shook their heads in unison.

“So what possessed ’em to do somethin’ so knuckleheaded?”

“The boys swear they didn’t know a damn thing about the truck being stolen,” Lester insisted.

“So how did this go down?” Santigo left his desk and assumed his place behind it. “Did they get pulled?”

Lester nodded. “Cops say it was a routine stop.”

Carl grunted an ill-humored laugh. “Yeah, I guess even in the twenty-first century, two young black men driving around town in the wee hours of the morning still looks suspicious.”

“Cops ran the plates. Truck came up stolen.” Lester massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Hell...” Tigo ran a hand across his cheek while shaking his head. “What do the guys have to say?”

“Claim they were set up or some mess....”

Tigo frowned and looked to Carl for more clarification.

The man shrugged. “It’s all we can get out of ’em right now.”

“We just want our boys out of jail. Judge won’t even budge on it.”

“Who’s the judge?” Tigo frowned at Lester.

The man said something foul below his breath. “Some fool...Oswald Stowe.”

Tigo nodded, assessing the information. “Anything else I need to know? Have the boys given up a reason why they think they were set up?”

Carl let out another grunt. “Took us forever to get that much information out of them.”

“All right then.” Tigo pushed out of the wide gray suede swivel chair. “Don’t you guys worry too much over this. I’ll see what I can do.” He rounded the desk to shake hands with both men and then muttered a curse of regret once the disillusioned fathers had dragged themselves from the office.

* * *

Sophia lingered behind the wheel of the car for a bit longer than she needed to. She had parked in the curving brick drive outside her parents’ home and spent time running shaking hands through her hair once she’d unbound the professional updo she’d worn for the meeting with her superiors that morning.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to her parents since shortly after Waymon Cole’s arrest at the Reed House dinner. Even then, the conversation had been brief. It was long enough to tell Sophia that her mother and father clearly disapproved of the entire situation. More importantly, they disapproved of their daughter’s part in it.

“Oh, Sophie, what the hell are you doing here?” She cast a wary eye at the large brick dwelling nestled behind a fence of tall pine trees. Other than setting yourself up for more parental ridicule, she added silently.

Perhaps a part of her was hoping that news of her pending promotion might soften the Hails’ viewpoint toward her job. After all, she’d be more of a shot-caller than an order-taker, right?

The question strengthened her resolve and provided the necessary motivation for her to leave the car. As she began a search for her house keys on the silver ring she carried, she thought of Santigo.

How would he react when she told him of the promotion? she wondered. When? Sophia slowed her steps. Was she so certain they’d see each other again? Was it even wise to move ahead there? Sophia rolled her eyes, issuing a quiet order to herself to shut up. Wise or not, she missed the man’s touch far too much to deny herself the possibility of enjoying it again.

Sophia gave a quick, decisive toss of her head and moved to unlock the front door. It opened before she could touch it, and Sophia smiled at the unexpected guest who stood on the other side.

Laureen Bradford was obviously caught up in her own thoughts if her jumping at the sound of Sophia’s greeting was any clue.

“Oh!” Laureen gushed. “Sophia, honey, what a nice surprise.”

Sophia bought Laureen Bradford’s surprise; though there was more emotion mixed in than she could pinpoint. It was just as well since Veronica Hail was emerging at the door.

“Sophie, oh, baby, thank God.”

The greeting was a far cry from the one Sophia had expected from her mother.

“Laur, what do you say we run this by Sophia?” Veronica smoothed a hand along the sleeve of the woman’s burgundy floral-print blouse. “If there’s a way, she’ll know.”

Laureen sniffled. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, which sent a few tufts of her feathered hair into her round, milk-chocolate face. She nodded. “I’ll get the papers from the car. Thank you, Sophie,” she whispered while hurrying past.

“What happened?” Sophia asked her mother as she watched Laureen move down the long brick driveway.

“Her boy Kenny got himself arrested for stealing a car.” Veronica sighed, smoothing five fingers along the tapered edges of her short hair, which accentuated a lovely oval face.

“Arrested?” Sophia cast a reflexive look across her shoulder. “Isn’t he on his way to college?”

“Not if he’s convicted over this.”

Veronica Hail and Laureen Bradford had been friends for years. Laureen’s small yet successful soul food restaurant was a yearly participant at the Reed House dinners. The women had launched a friendship while Laureen was preparing to showcase her cuisine during the first Reed House event.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Veronica seemed to remember herself and pulled her daughter into a hug. “This is such a good surprise.” She applied a few brisk rubs to Sophia’s back. “It’s chilly out here. Let’s get inside.”

I guess it can wait another day. Sophia decided against sharing her news. She acknowledged that she was being a wimp, but being on the receiving end of parental ridicule was never fun. She was preparing to follow her mother inside when her mobile vibrated. Tigo.

Sophia let the phone shake twice more so as not to appear too eager for the call. Who the hell was she kidding with this stuff?

“Hey, Tig.” She congratulated herself on the coolly delivered greeting.

“I was wondering whether high-powered detectives ever took coffee breaks?”

Stop being a wimp, Sophie, she urged herself silently. “I’m, uh...actually no longer a high-powered detective.”

The silence that followed was lengthy and meaningful.

“You didn’t quit.” His hushed tone was shrouded in disbelief.

Sophia couldn’t tell whether he sounded more hopeful or stunned. “No. They...they actually offered me the chief of detectives post.”

Laughter sounded without hesitation. “That’s great!”

Sophia thought he actually sounded happy.

“To hell with a coffee break—this deserves a real celebration.”

Sophia pressed the phone into the front of her blouse and moved aside to hold the door for Laureen Bradford, who was returning with folders in the crook of one arm.

“Miss Laur, would you tell Mama I’m on my way?” Sophia asked, smiling when the woman nodded. She put the phone back to her ear.

“I really don’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Santigo snorted out a laugh. “Precisely why you’re not in charge of it. What time are you done at the station?”

“Well, I’m not sure—”

“Call me when you are. Go home, get dressed and I’ll be over to get you maybe around seven?”

“Seven sounds good.”

“Sounds good to me, too.”

The connection was severed before Sophia could speak another word. No matter, she could hear her mother calling out to her.

* * *

“And neither of them had prior offenses?” Sophia inquired as she scanned one of the folders Laureen had brought in from her car. The women sat in Veronica Hail’s sunroom; it had been made golden that day by the lamps required due to the overcast skies.

“No.” Laureen Bradford sniffled against the tissue she’d been using to dab at her nose. “No, no, they’re both good boys.”

“Oswald Stowe.” Sophia read the judge’s signature on one of the papers.

Laureen nodded as she sniffled again. “The public defenders told us he was pretty easygoing and that everything should work out since the boys were first offenders. They said it should never have come to this.”

“Making a statement for his public image maybe....” Sophia guessed. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard Laureen Bradford gasp.

“Oh, Miss Laur, I’m sorry.” Sophia eased an apologetic look toward her mother. Scooting to the edge of the rose-colored armchair she occupied, she reached over to pat the woman’s knee. “I’ll look into it and see what I can do,” she promised.

Laureen blinked, and her teary eyes began to sparkle with hope. “Thank you, baby.”

Sophia nodded again and then left her mother to console her friend.

“Baby girl!”

Sophia heard the familiar call within minutes of leaving the sunroom. Her father was on his way down the corridor toward her.

“How is it in there?” Gerald Hail asked, cocking his head toward the sunroom door.

Sophia cast a forlorn look toward the door, as well. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m gonna try to help.”

Gerald nodded. “They’ll appreciate it. Your mother’s very worried.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you guys today.”

Squeezing his daughter’s upper arms, Gerald stood back on his long legs and regarded Sophia with a curious stare. “What’s up?” he probed.

“Daddy—”

“What?”

Sophia shifted her weight. “It’s probably not the best time to get into it now.”

“Now you have to tell me.” Gerald folded his arms over his broad chest, causing the jacket of his nylon warm-up suit to rustle. “You know I won’t let up till you tell me.”

Sophia bowed her head, inhaling her breath and courage. “They offered me the job as chief of detectives.”

Gerald let out a “Whoop!” that had his daughter jumping. Moments later, he’d pulled Sophia into a crushing hug and swung her in a semicircle.

“Are you serious?” Sophia couldn’t have hidden her disbelief had she tried.

“Are you?” Gerald countered, pushing back a mahogany curl that clung to Sophia’s cheek. “Do you know how much that job of yours worries us? Now we can rest easier.”

Sophia’s smile was curious. “What are you saying, Dad?”

“Well, hell, as chief you can put your lil’ butt behind a desk instead of out there in the street.”

“Daddy...” Sophia grimaced at her father’s declaration. “I’m still a cop, you know?”

“Sure you are.” Gerald gave Sophia’s chin a playful bump with his fist. “And now you’re a cop who doesn’t have to put her life on the line every day.”

Sophia’s phone picked that moment to vibrate. Gerald squeezed his daughter’s wrist when he saw the mobile’s faceplate glow.

“You get that and we’ll talk later.” Gerald kissed her forehead and then continued his trek down the long hall.

“Hail.” Sophia answered before the call was sent to voice mail. She hadn’t recognized the displayed number and was still rather dumbfounded when the man on the other end of the line began to speak.

“I’m sorry, Mr...?”

“Apologies, Detective.” The man chuckled. “I’m sure you’re running in so many crazy directions right now. Lem Chenowith here. I’ve just been hired as head of your style team. We’d like to schedule some time to meet and get acquainted. What works best with your schedule?”

“Uh...” Sophia was scratching the fine hair smattered along her temple. “Mr. uh—”

“Chenowith,” Lem promptly supplied.

“Mr. Chenowith. Style team?”

“At your service. Now, what’s a good time for us to drop by for a chat?” the man went on, with no thought that what he said was in any way out of the ordinary.

“Mr. Chenowith, I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong number. I—”

“Detective Hail, my team and I have been brought on board by the commissioner’s office. We’ve been hired to keep our new chief of Ds looking her best.”

Sophia stopped in the foyer and leaned against the wall. She pulled the phone away from her ear just briefly before continuing the strange conversation. “Mr. Chenowith—”

“Lem, please.”

“I think there’s been a mistake.” Sophia exchanged scratching the hair at her temple for massaging the bridge of her nose. “The last thing I need is help getting dressed.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Trust me, Detective, I certainly understand. Most people are very put off by the suggestion that their wardrobe isn’t up to par.”

Sophia bowed her head and gave it a shake.

“But don’t you worry,” Lem continued right along. “You just leave it all to me, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

Lem found nothing to criticize in the flat way Sophia voiced the phrase and took her words to mean that all was well.

“We look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Chief.”

“Sure thing.” Sophia gave a mocking two-finger salute. At that point, she was so exasperated that she didn’t care to argue any further. “Mr. Chen—Lem.”

“Very good.”

“Look, Lem, I’m in the middle of something—”

“Yes, yes, of course. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Sophia could only stare at the phone once the connection ended. She felt as if she’d just been through a whirlwind. She was pushing off the wall to head for the front door when Veronica arrived in the foyer.

“Ma—” Sophia found herself pulled into a tight squeeze before she could say anymore.

“Congratulations! Your daddy just told me all about it.” Veronica danced in place after she released her daughter from the embrace.

Sophia could tell from her mother’s elated expression that she was happy for the same reasons as her father. After the dizzying conversation with the head of her new style team, Sophia was in no mood to make an issue of it.

“How’s Miss Laur?” Sophia asked instead.

The glee Veronica showed began to dim. She tugged at the oversize cuffs on the white pin-striped blouse she wore and glanced across her shoulder. “All this hit her and Les out of nowhere. Ken’s such a good boy. Sophia, honey, there has to be some kind of mistake.” She clasped her hands and propped them against her chin. “Hopefully there’s some way the boys can make up for it without going to jail.”