Fly With Fire (22 page)

“Claude will be angry.”

“Screw Claude.” She felt a
little guilty taking that attitude. But not too guilty.

“Okay, screw Claude.” Roddy
shrugged with an amused look. “Now about Zack…” he started.

“All the arrangements are
fine. I’m going up to Montreal for the break. How about you and Luciana? Deb
said she wants to stay and rehearse. Is Haaken going to be able to work with
her?  I need the break with, with everything. Will Claude stay and coach them?
Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to get to Sally. Later, Roddy.” He watched her
turn on her slippered heel and slip out the door. He settled back and relit his
cigar thinking. Momo is in love with Zack. He smiled and sucked his cigar.

Mo turned toward her room as
the elevator doors closed on Zack. He had escorted her politely to her room so
she could relax before the show. Then he excused himself saying he needed to
coordinate some things with hotel security and the private firm he had brought
in. She ran a bath and sank into the tub letting the jets whirl around her. The
last two days had been tense and disappointing. She had no choice but to
conclude that not only had she been mistaken about Zack’s interest in her, he
had been downright offended at what he obviously considered a cheap come on. In
this day and age, she thought.

Well, if he was so easily
offended and judgmental then he could go back to Tyler’s office with her
blessing. How she’d thought he was a likable, gentle and fair man. Fair her
ass. She frowned. She’d known him only two, not quite three weeks. Sure, maybe
she had acted on impulse, but what difference did it make? She was really
attracted to him and thought… Not the first time anyone ever acted rashly while
under the influence of a really hot guy. But to suddenly be so distant? He
evidently assumed she hit on men she barely knew all the time. Now he would be
gone. Well, so much the better. He’d turned into a distraction and that was
something she did not need. She laid back and lowered herself into the tub
until all but her nose and eyes were submerged.

How could he just suddenly
decide he was going to leave? He was running out like a scared rabbit because
she had made it clear she wanted him? She groaned mentally. He would have to do
it sometime. It would be best to ask him to pack his things tonight and have
him stay in another room. After all she was perfectly safe in the presidential
suite. No one could access the room from the elevator without the special key
card and it was the only way in since the emergency door was triply bolted.
There was the small terrace but it was so high with no exterior access, no one
could get to it. At least not without acrobatic skill.

Now she’d have someone else
in the next room. Rather than give her comfort she found herself feeling like
she had a hollow place in her gut. It would be best to cut things short and
move on. It had been a novelty to play body guard for a while but his interest
in it had waned. He had his own stuff to deal with and she couldn’t blame him
for that. He had lost a close friend. Even worse had found out his friend had
been the poster boy for corrupt cops. Circumstances had thrown them together
temporarily and now that time was at an end. Now he seemed anxious to make his
exit from her life.

She thought of the kiss
they’d shared and the hardness of him beneath her own aching body. Her thigh
muscles tightened at the thought of them completing what had only just been
started. He’d backed out of what his body seemed to so clearly desire. Maybe he
still loved his ex. From the few things he had said it didn’t look like he had
regrets about being out of his marriage. Still, denial and all. Maybe he feared
he couldn’t perform although arousal had not seemed the problem. He was a
young, healthy man, but stress, and he’d had some stress, could do strange
things. Speaking of stress, why was she analyzing this to death instead of
relaxing and stilling her mind for tonight’s performance? If the guy didn’t
want to have sex with her for whatever reason he was entitled to be uptight,
narrow minded and impotent! Who was she to judge? She was the injured party!
The spurned woman! Well, hell hath no fury…and he could pack bags. Why didn’t
he just call her a whore? She bet the word had come to mind. Didn’t that whole
Madonna/Whore thing go out with the advent of women’s lib?

She had wasted enough time
thinking about him and his hang ups. She barely knew the man and had judged
wrongly.  Okay, he had been kind and helpful and concerned and she had
allowed herself to be attracted to him. Was that such a sin? He wasn’t the
first attractive man she had ever wanted to have sex with. He was the first to
ever say no. And that wasn’t a crime either even if it had been a bit of a
shock. So why had she been repeatedly rehashing the scene in her mind? Now,
relax, breathe, clear your mind. Don’t think about Zack. Don’t think about
kissing Zack. Don’t think about Zack’s …Dammit!

She heard the elevator. She
stood up and wringed her hair. She had finally managed to bath while
reiterating every thought about Zack she’d ever had since she’d known him.
Towel around her head, she grabbed the complimentary robe and donned it with a
quick cinch of the belt. No time like the present. She’d tell him he could go ahead
and get another room. Why waste his time. Or hers. They were adults and they
could end their brief relationship, business relationship, like adults. She
would even call Tyler and give him a glowing review of Zack’s performance. She
toweled her hair and went to the bedroom door. Taking a breath as if she were
about to hurl herself through the air she opened the door.

She saw a tall, broad black
man with his back to her as he looked out the window. He turned as she gasped
and looked across the room where Zack was coming out of his room, carrying some
papers. Then it registered. Al Simpson. Hard core bastard who also happened to
be head Greendale Police detective. She looked at Zack in anger. “What’s he
doing here?”

“We’re coordinating
information with the new security team, the hotel and the police.  Al came
by to look at the new emergency plan.” He barely gave her a glance.

“Hello, Ms. Whitman.” Al
didn’t seem the least awkward or embarrassed to be in the room of the woman
he’d accused of murder, being a whore and having an affair with the mayor of
Chicago.

“The least you could have
done was inform me ahead of time that you were going to invite Detective
Simpson into my room.” Mo emphasized the “my”.

“I wanted Detective Simpson
to check out the layout of the suite. So there is the second room. You see
which is Ms. Whitman’s room. Both rooms have bathrooms and there’s this Juliet
here but it’s not easily accessible from outside. I’ll make sure the police get
a map of the layout from Vince Smith.” Zack handed Al some papers. They gave
each other a long look.

“We don’t believe the murder
and the champagne incident are necessarily connected but as a professional
courtesy, Greendale Police Department is willing to do whatever it takes to
make sure you and your company are safe. My bet is the killer is long gone. And
our theory is it was the work of a mentally disturbed fan. We’re hoping for a
break to help us identify your friend’s killer but in the meantime, the mayor
of Greendale wants to make sure you feel safe while you’re here.” Al made an
effort at a friendly grin. It didn’t seem to come naturally to him.

“Nice little speech,
Detective Simpson. If you gentlemen are finished I need to get to the coliseum.
Detective Burnham, I should be ready in fifteen minutes. If you’ll excuse me.”
She eyed Simpson coldly and shot a glare at Zack before slamming the door to
her room.

“Mo, Ms. Whitman, the car is
here.” Zack had seen Simpson off giving him all the information he’d been able
to gather about Ray, Senorita Villareal and Bull Shaughnessy. It wasn’t
complete bullshit he thought. They were coordinating emergency steps with the
local police but it was also a good cover for meeting Al without drawing
attention. The big detective had finally come around after making a few of his
own inquiries. Now he was ready to meet La Senorita, and find out just how deep
Bull was into the whole scam. Zack wanted to go with him but he knew his job
was on the line. With Al’s connection to Bull and his friendship with the local
US attorney, he could take it further than Zack could, without anyone
questioning him. Al was a very sly investigator despite the fact that Ling
Wong’s murder remained unsolved.

Mo came out of the room with
dry hair and a summer weight red shift that brushed mid thigh. Her hair was in
the long side braid she wore almost every day. No makeup; just redness in her
cheeks from the hair dryer or from his own cheek in letting Simpson into her
room. Made no difference. Their brief friendship was upended when he found out
how she handled a man who said no. He felt confused and guilty. She had fed his
guilt by being distant and making it clear she wanted him no where around. How
cold she’d been to him in Roddy’s office. He thought he was doing the right
thing. He’d hoped they had things straightened out between them but apparently
she had taken things very personally. Did she not understand how he would be
compromised in his ability to protect her if they had gone any further? He
already was compromised by the feelings he come to feel in a very short time.
He was having a hard time separating emotion and desire. He’d battled with
himself over it from almost the very beginning. He had watched her furtively
and thought about her constantly. Even while trying to work out the real
circumstances surrounding Ray’s murder.

Now she just wanted him out,
it was clear enough. Maybe it would be best if he cleared out of the room
without delay. She didn’t really need him there with the new security all
around the hotel and coliseum. There was someone watching the elevator at all
times. And maybe Al was right. The killer was probably half way across the
country. He waited while she collected her bag. They stepped into the elevator
and silently rode to the lobby. He put his hand to her elbow as they exited the
elevator but she shifted her bag to that arm pulling it out of his grasp. The
driver opened the door of the car. He gave the driver a nod and looked around
while she adjusted her long legs into the car. Zack closed the door and went around
to the other side. He jumped in for the short ride to the coliseum.

“Detective Burnham,” she had
donned sunglasses that were unnecessary in the limo. Mo pulled them off and
glanced at the driver. She turned to Zack. “It seems you have made all the arrangements.
I’m sorry you’ll be leaving us but since you are perhaps it would be better if
you moved out of the hotel room tonight. I would feel more comfortable and I
think you would too. Of course you can get another room at the company’s
expense.”

“I think that’s best. But I’m
checking out after the show. You have all the security you need. I’m going to
go back to my place.” He looked straight ahead as he spoke. A knot tightened in
his chest.

Mo felt a clutch in her chest
as well. “That’s settled then. Thank you so much for everything. I hope you
feel you’ve been compensated adequately. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to
your life. I hope everything works out for you, with the investigation and
everything.” The car pulled up to the coliseum. Zack looked at Mo and suddenly
the polite departing words he had formed in his mind left him. “You take care,”
was all he could come up with. He went around to open the door but she had
jumped out and was dashing toward the coliseum before he had a chance. He followed
her as she sped toward the dressing room where she entered and closed the door
leaving him standing in the corridor as performers and stagehands dashed around
in preparation.

“So Detective, your gig’s
up?” Sally stood with costumes draped over her arm. “Word travels fast. Sorry
you won’t be with us for the extended run. Good luck with everything, your job
and all. We all felt safer with you around. Guess you gotta do what you gotta
do. Thanks for everything.”

“Yeah, it’s been great.
You’re all very special people.” Zack gave Sally a little smile. She could see
the sadness in it.

“Our star attraction is a
stubborn thing, but she has a good heart.” Everyone had noticed their
friendship developing and everyone had noticed the change. There had been constant
speculation about its cause. “I know Mo thinks the world of you. We all do.”
Sally stood on her toes stretching to give Zack a kiss on the cheek.

“Always the lady.” Zack
smiled and watched as Sally clacked away.

Al Simpson moved down the
steps in Rosalie Villareal’s condo building. His large frame moved with the
grace of an athlete. He was quick and light on his feet for a very large man.
He shot through the door barely breathing. The anger in him was so volcanic he
was afraid he would blow up right in the street taking everything out in his
path. He had shown Ms. Villareal, he snorted, the woman, pictures of various
suspects. He had shown her photos of Jamal Smith and various other small time
criminals and drug dealers. He had no picture of Curtis Lyons. At a picture of
a young black man in an army uniform her voice had gotten panicky. “No. No. I
never see this one. He never came here. Ray did not use him.”

“He is a known associate of
Curtis Lyons.” Al’s heart pounded. He kept his voice calm. “Ms. Villareal, we
have reason to think this man, Russell...this man might have been a client. Do
you remember ever hearing anything about a Russell Simpson?”