Fly With Fire (6 page)

The traffic out to the
Greendale Hotel had never seemed slower. The backup was ridiculous even by
Chicago standards. O’Hare airport was usually to blame. Fed up he stuck his
light on top his Mitsubishi Montero and hit the shoulder. Reporters and cops
had cut off the entry to the hotel. He angrily waved a bystander with a video
camera out of the way. “Freedom of the press, asshole,” the man yelled. Go blog
yourself, Zack thought. He flipped his badge and parked where he could amongst
the dozen cruisers with lights flashing. He saw Vince Smith, the head of hotel
security, in the lobby. The former CPD cop waved him over. They had a long
though not close acquaintance. “You must be here for Tyler. They got the fire
girl or whatever the hell they call her in conference three. Witnesses say she
was at the arena all afternoon. Witness, that tall black dude over there, puts
her in her room with the vic late this morning. Says he left them alone having
coffee. What d’ya think, fight over dreadlocks there?”

“Nah, it wasn’t her. Damage?”

“Brutal. They’re picking her
brains out of the sofa now. Jealousy can be a brutal motive. Guess Ms. Whitman
made a good impression on the mayor, send you out. Sorry ‘bout your partner, by
the way.” Vince tugged his suit jacket uncomfortably. “I’m gonna get shit on
this.”

News of his partner’s killing
had not been missed by anyone. “Thanks. Someone wants to kill someone, there’s
not much hotel security’s gonna be able to do about it. They have the videos?”
Zack noticed the rotund man’s heavy breathing. It was clear Smith was in a
panic about a murder happening on his watch.

Vince nodded. “Yeah, all of
‘em. But 14 east? Trashed. No video.”

“Shit.” Zack rubbed his hand
on his five o’clock and turned toward conference three. He could see Monica
Whitman being questioned. Her head nodded then shook. She put her face in her
hands then looked up and nodded some more. She wiped tears from her eyes with a
tissue offered her and took a drink of water.  His Greendale colleagues
surrounded her with their hands on their hips. These could be scary guys.
Mostly former CPD, stolen away with offers of big pay to protect the region’s
premier showplace. If anyone had noticed it was all Yards guys that got these
plum jobs, nobody had made any noise. Big Chicago money had built the place and
big Chicago money ran it. Greendale would answer to Tyler. He swooped in.
“Boys, give the lady some breathing room.  He turned on the Burnham charm.
“Al, His Honor said if I see ya, tell ya he hasn’t forgotten the pension
benefit dinner. He’ll be glad to say a few words. Harve, how’s the wife? She’s
busy with the new one, huh? Simmons? I’m Zack Burnham CPD, nice to meetcha.”

“Layin’ it on aren’t ya?
Chummy with Tyler are ya.” Al was a big man. Big all over and bald with very
dark skin. A well decorated cop, he’d finally gotten his family away from the
Yards like he’d always threatened. Too late for one of his kids though and that
chip tottered perilously on Al Simpson’s shoulder. “Running interference for
Tyler’s latest?”

Word got around, truth or
not. “She’s not his latest. She danced with him a couple times.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but if
you going to stand there and talk about me as if I’m not here, I’d like to get
another room. I’m exhausted. Where’s Roddy? Mr. D’Mario?” She rubbed her eyes
with slender fingers. She looked fragile, not strong like when she hurled her
body through the air. Her voice was like crystal that might crack anytime.

“Your boss is answering
questions down the hall.” Al gave her the look that had many a perp spilling
his guts on the floor. “Bet he’d do anything to protect the star of the show.”

“What are you saying? You
think I killed my best friend?” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm
herself. Quietly she said, “If that’s what you’re implying, should I be talking
to a lawyer?” She studied Al Simpson’s big face. She was trying to understand
what seemed impossible. Was she being accused?

“You tell me. You think you
need a lawyer, I’ve got to wonder why.” Al glared down at her. And only
succeeded in pissing her off. She glared back.

“I don’t NEED a lawyer,
Detective Simpson. But I’m not going to sit here and allow you to imply I would
hurt Ling…” Her defiant stance was broken with a sob. She put her head down on
the table, shoulders shaking.

“Hey, Al, lighten up, can’t
you see the lady’s upset?” Zack stood in his face and at six two was two inches
shorter. “Anyone seen any blood on her, any time she can’t account for? Got a
motive?

“I didn’t know you got a law
degree, college boy. She had opportunity for starters. They were possibly
romantic rivals. What about Lincoln Harris, Ms. Whitman? Did he want to get her
out of the way so he could be with you? Or were YOU jealous of his feelings for
Ling Wong?”

“How many times do I have to
answer that question?” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Zack
handed her a fresh tissue.

“As many times as it takes
for you to acknowledge you wanted Harris and she was in the way.” Al said sharply.

She looked up at the
detective with a mixture of sadness and frustration. Her voice was a hoarse but
determined whisper. “Which is it? One minute you accuse Linc and now you imply
I kil…hurt Ling.” She wiped absently at her tears. “Ling” she croaked. She
cleared her throat. “Like I’ve already told you, Linc came by to complain about
Ling being out all night. He’s in love with her, he’d never hurt her. He would
never hurt anyone. He left when Ling came by. She fell asleep on the sofa so I
went and had breakfast then got the shuttle to the coliseum. Should I just keep
repeating this so you don’t have to keep asking me?”

“He hurt someone last June in
L.A. How about you? You got a temper, little lady?” Simmon’s asked with brows
in a scowl.

“Ask around, little man, it’s
been known to flare. But not like this. Oh, my God!” Mo broke into a sob then
worked to collect herself. “If you were paying attention you’d have known that
Linc saved Ling from a kidnapper.” She put her face down into the overused tissue.

“What about this Harris?”
Zack asked Harve who was holding a rap sheet. He almost stroked Mo’s hair but
caught himself.

“Gotta a juvee in Cleveland
for B and E. Reform School. Two years. Clean since then, but…” Harve waved the
sheet of paper. “Back in June he got into a fight in L.A. after a show. A guy
hassled Ling Wong in a bar and now is suing La Cirque du Celestial for
replacement of his front teeth. Charges against the guy were dropped on a tech.
Girl claimed the guy tried to drag her out the back door when she went to the
ladies’. Lucky for her Harris was coming outta the head.”

“I hope Hell freezes over
before he’s got new teeth. Does it make sense that he saved her only to kill
her now?” Zack asked.

“Maybe he thought she owed
‘im,” Harve theorized.

Zack looked at Al. “Come on
Al. You can talk to her tomorrow. I’ll take responsibility. Let me get her
checked into a new room.”

“You’ll take responsibility?
If I’m not mistaken you’re not a Greendale cop and might not be CPD much
longer. You’re only in this room because the chief said Tyler sent you over.
But don’t press your luck.” Al jerked his head to where a policewoman was
signaling him from the door. With a grunt he strode over. Zack offered Mo more
water, but she kept her head down and shook it slightly. Al came back, “Well,
get her settled in and since you’re offering to take responsibility, you can
keep an eye on her tonight. We ain’t CPD. We only got so many detectives to go
around.”

“Call from your mayor?” Zack
raised an eyebrow.

Al snorted and said,
“Simmons, I want that Harris at the station now. Harve we’ll see her at ten
a.m. Make sure Tyler’s new pet here is on a leash. This is my investigation,
Burnham, and screw Tyler if he thinks he’s going to run it. He’s got enough
shit on his hands without trying to cover for a piece.”

“You can take a boy outta the
yard, but you can’t take the yard outta the boy. Isn’t that what your old man
always said?” Zack stood his ground as Al towered close. He glared at Zack and
said, “You can go, Ms. Whitman. I need you at the station at ten. Harve…
Detective Graver, and I will be there.” He walked off.

Zack took her elbow and
helped her out of the chair. She was pale and shaken and seemed unsteady on her
feet. He escorted her to the desk where she requested a change of room in a low
tone deliberately not looking toward the door out which the press could be seen
across the lot clamoring for any crumb of news. The desk clerk tapped computer
keys rapidly. Mo had her elbows on the desk her face in her hands. “All we have
is the presidential suite, which is considerably more expensive. I’ll need to
check with Mr. D’Mario.”

Zack glared at the clerk.
“Look pal, she needs a room because someone, probably a hotel employee,
murdered her colleague in her room. They might have been after her. Give her
the damn key and she’ll deduct it from her settlement. That work for ya?”

“No need to get testy with
our clerks, Mr.?” A well dressed older man interceded.

“Detective. Burnham. Who are
you and why can’t you just give this lady another room?” He felt a pull at his
jacket and looked down into Mo’s exhausted face.

“He’s the owner,” she croaked
hoarsely. “Mr. Whitney.”

“It is our intention to see
to Ms. Whitman’s every need, Detective. Mr. Coleman, please put Ms. Whitman in
the presidential suite and override the billing. P West, Mr. Coleman. Cancel
all bookings for it for the time being.” He turned to Mo,” I can’t tell you how
deeply sorry I am. I understand she was a very close friend. Please let us know
if there’s anything you need.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket. “This
is my private line and my home number in the city. You call me, anytime, day or
night, if you need anything at all. Mr. Coleman, Ms. Whitman is my guest.” He
turned to Zack. “You were with the mayor last night.” The clerk handed Mo a
card key which Zack gently took from her. Mr. Whitney laid a hand in comfort on
her arm. Zack looked at Mr. Whitney’s lined face. His automatic assessment
interrupted by Mo turning toward him with dull eyes. Shock.

“He sent me out. Sorry, I
didn’t mean to ruffle Mr.Coleman’s feathers. Let me get her settled in. Thanks
a lot.” She literally had to lean on him as he took her arm and relieved her of
her pocketbook.

“Thank you Mr. Whitney.” Mo
barely got the words out. A lot of angry guests were glaring at the door which
had been locked. No one was allowed to leave the hotel. More angry guests had
been herded into the various conference rooms. “There’s Roddy.” She said
pointing into a large room where police were questioning guests. “Roddy!”

He gently pulled her forward,
“You can talk to him later.” Still she tried to go toward Roddy, weakly waving
a hand to get the manager’s attention. “They won’t let you in there. Come on
before Al changes his mind and takes you down to the station for an all
nighter.”

“But…” He lead her away just
in time. As he steered her toward the west wing elevators an east wing elevator
popped open. Glancing over his shoulder Zack saw the stretcher bearing the body
bag containing Ling Wong rolled into the lobby. Keeping her moving he hit the
button and blocked her view. He keyed the elevator for the presidential suite
breathing a sigh of relief she didn’t see it. “I need to get some things, all
my things are…”

“Sorry, Ms. Whitman, there’s
no way to get anything out of your room tonight. The forensic people will be in
there for hours and I’m afraid going through your things is going to be part of
it.  I’m real sorry about your friend. I remember seeing her at the party.
She seemed real sweet. Had a lot of real nice things to say about you.” He
watched as she tried to blink back tears. She opened her mouth, trying to say
something but the knot in her throat rendered her speechless. The elevator
opened directly into the suite. She stood gaping fearfully until he gave her a
gentle nudge. “No one knows you’re here, Ms. Whitman.” She still hesitated.
“I’ll take a look around, you wait here.” She stayed in the elevator until he
returned. “Its all clear, you’re safe here Ms. Whitman.” He guided her into the
living room and over to the sofa where she sat staring blankly. He walked over
to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water and took a glass from
the bar. He poured one and set it on the coffee table before her. He twisted
the cap off the other and chugged half the bottle.”

“Thank you for your trouble,
Detective Burnham. I’m sure this isn’t part of your job. I guess I’ll take a
shower. Maybe I should take a shower.” She looked confused as if she didn’t
know the next step. What did people do when…?

“Maybe a bath would help you
relax. Have you eaten? I could call you up some room service.”

“I couldn’t eat. I’m sorry. I
don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t call anyone, they took my
cellphone. Oh, there’s a phone in here. Should I call someone, her mother?” The
last was almost squeaked out.

“The police will take care of
that. Is there some family or a friend you’d like to come? Someone close?” He
sat in the chair next to the sofa. “Can I call someone for you?”

“All my friends are with the
show. Your friend Al told me not to talk to any of them until after I talk with
him tomorrow. Your friend…he’s kind of an ass isn’t he?” Suddenly she downed
the glass of water. “Bet there’s something harder in that cabinet.”