Fly With Fire (8 page)

“She’s a pretty cool customer
today. But no, we don’t like her for it. We’re looking at the Harris guy. He
knew she was in the room. He was upset that she was out all night. He had been
panting after her and had been in a fight over her. And your girl there said
she’d told him he had an unhealthy fixation on the vic.” Harve sipped his
coffee and listened.

“How many times do I have to
say this? I know Linc will corroborate, your word, what I’m telling you.
Somehow we never got to where she was all night. Ling might have gone into the
city after the party but she was there ‘til it ended. She had a habit of going
back to her room and acting as if she’d partied all night. It was part of the
bad girl image she liked to put out there. People in entertainment often foster
images totally unlike their real selves. Ling was one of those. Strict
upbringing I guess. I wouldn’t go into the city with her. She may have gone
with someone else or by herself. But she’d have been bragging about it knowing
Ling. She could just as easily been in her room with a book. She fell asleep
mid-conversation, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was out all night. So,
I just left her to go eat and get to practice. By the way, how did they get in?
The door locks automatically. I’ve already locked myself out once.” Mo looked
at the glass as if she was looking right at Zack. She wore no makeup and looked
pale but unfrightened in the florescent light.

“I’ll ask the questions Ms.
Whitman. So you say Lincoln Harris was obsessed with Ling Wong. Had he ever
tried to force himself on her?” Al loomed with his large frame leaning forward.
His thick hands spread on the table. If ever someone could intimidate someone
into a confession, it was him.

“Linc wasn’t obsessed. I told
him he had an unhealthy interest in her movements. I meant it was unhealthy for
him to worry about Ling. I didn’t mean he was obsessed like some kind of
weirdo. He was worried about her. He was in love and worried about her wild
behavior. Or what he perceived as her wild behavior. He would never hurt her.
He’d never hurt anyone.” She gazed back at Al, unintimidated. “Why don’t you
try figuring out who did this, instead of just making it more difficult for the
people who loved her. We’re like a family, detective. I can’t believe anyone in
our company is capable of this. Who could do something like this, she was a
child. A very sweet child.” Her voice broke. Al glared at the glass with
annoyance.

“You can go Ms. Whitman. We’re still asking that no one leave. Since Mayor
Tyler has you comfy in the presidential suite, I guess we’ll know where to find
you if we have more questions. Is that where we can find the mayor?” He had a
knowing leer on his face. “Or maybe we can count on Detective Burnham staying
put again.”

“Detective, a close friend of
mine has been murdered. You’ve grilled me endlessly and repetitively without
any consideration of that fact. You’re not the kind of man whose opinion is
going to have me losing any sleep. Let’s not waste any more time. You’ve got a
killer to catch. You’re well into your first forty eight hours and you’re
clueless.” She picked up her bag and spun toward the door. Harve and Zack
looked at each other with a grin.

“Ms. Whitman, if you just wait
a…” Zack went after her. She’d shot out of the interrogation room like a
bullet. “Ms. Whitman!

She spun on him. “Is that
doing his job? Making snide remarks about me and my friends? Insulting Ling?
Taking shots at Mayor Tyler? And you for that matter? She turned and picked up
her pace. People in the station turned their heads as she whisked by with her
bag clutched tight. A tall, beautiful woman in a major snit with what was no
doubt a cop on her heels apologizing was a sight they didn’t see every day at
the Greendale precinct. She made it to the door and stopped. Outside a blinding
deluge poured. She looked at him with exasperation. He waited for another blast
of indignation. “I left your umbrella. In the room. Where they questioned me.”
She raised her eyebrows contritely and bit one side of her bottom lip.

Zack felt his insides go
tight. He nodded as if slowly comprehending but it was the weakness in his
knees at that look that kept him momentarily riveted to his spot. He collected
himself feeling heat under his collar. “Wait here.” He put his hands on her
upper arms for a second as if he were planting her to the spot. He rushed back
to the interrogation room.

“Looking for this?” Al had
his umbrella. He slapped it like he might slap a billy club into the palm of
his hand.

“My mayor will be talking to
your mayor about the way you’ve talked to Ms. Whitman.” He yanked the umbrella
out of Al’s hand. “Whatever your problem is, she’s not the cause. Why don’t you
get busy looking for who killed that girl, because I think they were after Ms.
Whitman.”

“You let us handle our cases.
Tyler’s close personal friends don’t get preferential treatment around here.
And my mayor can handle your mayor. She’s not off the list yet so if I were you
I wouldn’t get too personally involved with her. Your mayor wouldn’t like it.”
Al turned and strode off.

“Asshole,” was all Zack could
think. He rushed back to find her staring at the rain. “Here, I’ll pull up in
front. Be a minute.”

“Then take the…” but he was
out the door. He disappeared into the wall of water. She clutched herself,
feeling cold. “Damn them. Can’t they just find out who killed Ling?”

Mo ran to the car before he
could get around to the other side of it. He beat her to the door taking the
umbrella and holding it over her as she climbed in. Her feet were soaked. She’d
had to wear the same clothes she was wearing the day before since her room was
still sealed. She was wearing acrobatic flats that did nothing to keep her feet
dry. Zack noticed her shivering and turned on the heat.  He was completely
drenched again. The wipers had a hard time keeping up with the sheets of rain
coming down accompanied by rolls of thunder and shards of lighting. “You must
be used to some pretty bad weather in Montreal. I mean cold, anyway. Lots a
snow.” Zack tried to make conversation as he drove to the hotel. She just
nodded and squeezed her arms more tightly. “I went to Montreal once. Hockey. My
high school team went on a field trip to Montreal. We called it Monty. Stupid I
guess. Beautiful city. I guess I was too young to appreciate it.”

“That’s funny. You don’t look
like a hockey player. No broken nose. And you seem to have all your teeth.” She
said this blandly and looked ahead with no expression. She was tolerating his
attempt at conversation. Being polite. “Nice weather you’ve got here in the
Midwest. Typical summer storm?”

“You ain’t seen nothing. What
would really be cool is to be at the top of the John Hancock building watching
this over the lake. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.” He turned into the hotel
parking lot. A valet approached. She hopped out and broke into a run. Zack
threw the valet his keys and said, “Look, dude, gotta run.” He searched his
pocket for a bill as he saw her go through the doors. “Get ya next, time.
Promise.” He threw over his shoulder as he went after her. She was all but
wrapped around Roddy.

“Thank God, Roddy! What’s
going on? Where’s Linc? Is he okay?” She held on to him like a long lost
father. Zack stood with his hands together behind him. The air conditioning hit
him like an arctic wind. He was wet to the bone and a chill raised bumps on his
skin.  

“Momo! The police are still
talking to Linc. He is maybe suspect. You? No. I don’t think so or they still
have you. The company arrange for lawyer for Linc so don’t you worry. How are
you, my dear girl? They said you in a room. They say last night I could not
talk to you. They find out you talk to anybody, they take you to question at
the police. It’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” He held his arms around her and
cooed soothingly. Her head was buried in his neck, her whole body shook with
her sobs.

“Mo! Babeee! What did the
fascists do to you? Oh! In the hands of those monsters!” Claude took her arm
and tried to pull her to him. She clung to Roddy and snatched her arm away. “I
told them what I think about them!” Claude announced with a cock of the walk
look at Zack. Zack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He
clenched his fists; let the guy pull at her one more time.

“Oh, Roddy, how could this
happen to poor Ling?” Mo leaned on Roddy as he guided her to a lobby sofa. “Did
you see Linc? Oh, God, he must be out of his mind!”

“His cousin is coming from
Cleeevelahnd.” Claude informed her. He sat on the other side of her and took
her hand. He looked up at Zack with curiosity. “And who are you?”

Zack pulled out his badge.
“Detective Burnham, Chicago Police Department.”

“Oh.” Claude pushed closer to
Mo.

“Detective Burnham, from the
mayor! Yes, I remember you.” Roddy unselfconsciously squeezed his arms around
Mo. “You are here to find who kill poor Ling?”

“No, I’m sorry for your loss
but that’s for the local police. We’ll help however we can. I’m here to protect
Ms. Whitman. Mayor Tyler’s orders.” Zack watched Claude kissing Mo’s hand and
couldn’t help but be annoyed at how obviously Claude was trying to take
advantage of the situation. “Hey, Pal.” He wanted to say. She seemed to not
notice as Claude closed in possessively.

“Thank you, Detective
Burnham, thank you so much to take care of our precious girl. She is not only
my star, but like a daughter to me. Thank you! Mayor Tyler is so kind. He must
think so much of Monica. She is a wonderful lady. My sad little star, don’t
cry.” He cuddled her close making soothing sounds.

“Detective Burnham was kind
enough to stay last night.” That got a look from Claude. One eyebrow raised. A
bit of a pucker gave him a sour look. Mo rested her head on Roddy’s shoulder.
“They gave me the presidential suite, if you can believe that. How is
everybody? How’s everybody holding up? What about the show?” She sat straight
up. “What’s going to happen to the show, Roddy?

“It too crazy right now to
say. We are postpone for now. Investigators all over coliseum. We don’t know
when funeral, when they release her. Her body.” It was clear the manager had
gotten no sleep. He sighed and hugged Mo. “Her mama in California. She is not
well, cannot travel. Her poppa, you know, Momo.  Her poppa passed away.
She ask me to make arrangements, gave me power of, of attorney?” He looked at
Zack.

“That’s right. You’ll have to
make arrangements for transporting her. Your attorney will explain everything
when he or she gets here. Look, Ms. Whitman is freezing, her feet are soaked.
I’m going to go see when she’ll be able to get her things. Why don’t you take
her up to her room? I’m going to check in with Mayor Tyler. He’s very
interested in supporting your company through this difficult time.  You
let me know if there’s any way we can help. Stay with her, Roddy, I’m sorry,
Mr.?”

“D’Mario, but you call me
Roddy. Everybody call me Roddy.” He pecked at Mo’s head and helped her to her
feet. “I take her. Come, Momo.” Claude looked at Zack with an annoyed grimace
and kissing Mo’s hand, sauntered off.

“I’ll be right up, Roddy. You
can call me Zack.” He pulled his cell phone out and luckily was able to leave a
message on the mayor’s voicemail. The last thing he wanted was to have to talk
to the mayor again. He left an update of what he knew so far and waited by the
elevator. He heard rifts of conversation. While people were talking about the
murder, everything else seemed to have returned to normal as if a twenty two
year old girl had not had her head bashed in just a few floors up.

Zack took the elevator up to
the fourteenth floor. At the door of Mo’s room stood a security guard. Nice of
Greendale police to make sure professionals were on the job, thought Zack with
a shake of his head. “Hey, anyone inside?”

“Who the hell are you?” The
guard stood lazily against the wall. He was short but hefty. Zack guessed a
former wrestler from the way his biceps bulged from his short, blue uniform
sleeves.

“Zack Burnham, Chicago
Police.” He flipped his badge. “Mayor Tyler has assigned me to keep an eye on
the woman who occupied this room. She needs some of her things.

“I don’t work for Mayor
Tyler.” He crossed his arms and stood more erect drawing himself up to his full
height. Five eight, 230. Not that Zack was looking for a scuffle. “I was told
no one goes in or out. Lady’s gonna have to go shopping.”

“She just needs a few things,
some clothes and her toiletries. You can watch what I take. What’s she supposed
to do go naked because someone was rude enough to kill her friend in her room?”
Zack eyed the security guard. Little pit bull was standing his ground, chin up,
small hazel eyes glaring authority. “Alright, let me give a call. Al Simpson
will want to know whose doing their jobs and who’s getting in the way. Tell ya
what, you can ask Al yourself.” He pulled out his phone and started to dial.

“I got my orders from Greendale
police. No one said anything about Chicago police going in for undies.” He
looked less certain as Zack raised the phone to his ear. “I guess if I watch,
make sure you don’t take anything important…”

“Pal, believe me, they took
everything important.” The guard keyed the door and followed Zack into the
room. The plush white sofa looked as if someone had tossed a can of paint
toward it. One arm had been saturated with blood that had dried to a dark
reddish brown. The cushions on that end had a lot of blood too. Her had head
been on the arm as Monica had said. Zack could tell the blood spatter had been
blocked by something. There was dried blood on the carpet as well. It had
spattered onto the wall, but not as much as it might have. Monica Whitman had said
the girl had pulled a throw up over her face. The throw had been taken into
evidence. The sofa no doubt gone over with a fine tooth comb.