Fly With Fire (43 page)

He could see the flash of
blue and red. He struggled to remember why that should mean something. Then
memory flooded back. Mo. Is it Mo? He forced himself to drink some water. He
was dehydrated and the doctor had said to drink water. He hadn’t been
listening. He still had on his clothes. He took it as encouragement and
searched for his wallet and gun. A shoulder holster was out of the question. He
wasn’t wearing a belt. Too hard to manage. In the back of his pants? Forget
about it. He shoved his revolver into his waistband. He filled a glass with
water. He was standing. On two feet. He drank and filled again. Yeah, that was
better. He struggled to the door.

“Burnham, if you don’t mind
my saying so, you look like hell.” Vince Smith laughed a nervous laugh. The
shit had just kept getting deeper for him.

Zack stumbled but caught
himself on Vince’s arm. “Get me to the coliseum.”

Mo opened the box. Her heart
raced. Zack was sorry. They’d talk, make love, and all would be well. She
furrowed her brow. Inside sat another box. Again she opened it. She laughed a
puzzled laugh as she lifted the lid. He did have a strange sense of humor
sometimes. Another box sat with an envelope taped to the top. She turned to
listen to the music for her queue. She opened the envelope. A picture of
Trollie covered the card. She automatically dropped it on the box then picked
it up again. She opened it. “Just so you know what you’re missing.” She flung
it down in anger and yanked the lid off the box.

A framed eight by ten of a
man on a wire made her jerk her head back. Her virgin veil shifted with the
movement. She lifted it and looked more closely. The man was nude and sporting
a colossal erection. It was signed, “It is the shoes. Remember me always, Love
Trollie.” Member was underlined. There was no makeup. She had never seen
Trolley’s face but the man in the picture seemed familiar. The clown was doing
his routine right now she thought furiously. His last routine! The music had
restarted several times. Then Mo had a sudden recollection. No it couldn’t be.
With a snort of anger she grabbed the photograph and went to the door. With a
hiss of fury she yanked it open.

She waved the picture at the
body guards. “It’s him! It’s him! He was right here! Where’s Roddy?”

“Ms. Whitman?” They blinked
at the picture she held out. One started to laugh.

“Don’t you understand? It’s
him! It’s Trollie the clown. The delivery man!”

Persephone rose from the fires
of Hell to the verdant sweetness of paradise. The colors of spring bloomed
again as Hades descended to leave her her promised six months on the coolness
of the green earth. A bargain had been struck to bring two different worlds
together. She reigned as queen of Hell for half the year. She was allowed to
enjoy the delights of light and living things the other half. And thus the
seasons had begun, coinciding with the equinox and bringing each spring renewed
life born from the decay of winter. The music rose to a vibrant crescendo. The
audience, transfixed, took a moment then thundered out their applause. Again
and again. Yells and calls. The house stood in deafening ovation. The triumph
repeated once more.

Mo felt the thrill of
triumph. She had performed to perfection. Claude kissed her hand. They swung
their arms to encompass all the performers. Again they bowed while hands
clapped and flowers pelted the arena floor. But in the back of her mind loomed
thoughts that left her feeling exhausted. She felt the sense of triumph fading
as worry about Zack invaded her thoughts. The weird thing with Trollie had
spooked her.  Did they find him? Where had Zack gone?

Roddy took her into his arms
on seeing her distressed face. “Do not you worry my beautiful one. They find
the clown and then we know. He had alibi for Ling. They look at that again. It
must be him. A crazy man! I should let him go before. I am so sorry, my darling
girl.”

Mo nodded. “I’m the one who
insisted you give him another chance.” As pissed as she was about Trollie’s
little joke he’d had an alibi the day of Ling’s murder. Threat or prank the
timing was really bad. Back in her dressing room she applied cream to remove
the makeup from her face. The security people were searching for Trollie. The
police were ripping apart the hotel. When would it ever end? And where the hell
was Zack?

Gone to sulk in his condo?
Why was he being so unreasonable? Was he looking for an out? They both knew the
time would have to come. Was he just cutting to the chase? She had security
people all around and felt so alone and vulnerable without Zack. Why was he so
angry with her? She shouldn’t have brought up his father. It had been a stupid
thing to do in response to his own stupid reaction. Their brief acquaintance
notwithstanding, she knew she couldn’t live without him. She found his anger
irrational but she had to attribute it at least in part to the circumstances,
and the pain and drugs. She felt a flash of guilt. She’d not taken care of him
as she should have. He’d not gotten the rest he needed and had been in pain.
She felt selfish having wanted him so and stupid giving in to his, and her,
desires when he wasn’t up to it. Even wounded he had loved her as if she was
the center of his world. If he was dumping her on such a flimsy pretext, well,
he was just being ridiculous. “God, I love you!” Meaningless. She had talked
him into coming back to Greendale. Now, looking back, she realized it hadn’t
been his plan. Now he had grasped an out.

She heard voices outside her
room and recognized Lourdes Garcia’s voice. She liked the pretty Mexican
security guard who had put Claude in his place. She heard Meese’s voice. She’d
have to apologize to him. The thought galled when she thought of his arrogant
demeanor. Then she thought of him singing in the bathroom. Human.

Trollie had not turned up.
But he had not checked out of his room. No one had seen him in the hotel that
day. But even if she never saw him again she’d never forget his face. He was an
odd man, but was he Ling’s killer? It seemed impossible. But while he had been
seen at the coliseum around the time of Ling’s murder, there were a couple
hours where no one had seen him. The time he claimed to be asleep in the men’s
dressing room. However there was no proof against him.

She was so tired. She dreaded
going back to the room without Zack. She’d never been one to feel lonely. She
had considered relationships something to be avoided. Now she felt so lonely
knowing Zack wouldn’t be there. She’d get over it. It had just been sex after
all. He used his moralizing indignation to back off knowing the inevitable
loomed.

How she had searched for a
way for them to be together. Now she’d seen how unreasonable he could be. It
was an excuse. He’d latched on to an excuse. She would be better off. How?
When? She’d never felt this way before. Was it really love? If not, why did she
hurt so?

There was a quiet knock at
the door. Roddy poked his head in. “The car wait for you, lovely. Why Momo you
cry!” He closed the door. He crouched beside her as the tears ran. “We get
Trollie, we get Ling’s killer. Don’t worry Momo, we see you are safe.” Roddy
stroked her hair. Mo turned and pressed her face against his shoulder. Her
shoulders shook.

“I love him, Roddy. He’s left
me.” Mo sniffed. “I know it’s crazy. I love that stubborn, unreasonable man. I
thought we meant something to each other. I know we haven’t known each other
long but I’ve never felt this way before. It hurts. He doesn’t love me and it
hurts so badly.” She cried against him. After a few moments of Roddy purring
words of comfort and holding her she tried to collect herself. “Well, there’s
no way it would have worked out. His life is here. He wants to go back to his
job, his life. He’s made that clear enough now.”

“My sweet girl, don’t cry.
Maybe Zack don’t go back to be policeman.” Roddy wanted to tell Mo about the
job he’d offered Zack. Best if they got their personal situation worked out. Mo
looked at him with wide wet eyes. “He need to recuperate. Don’t need pressure.
He got to think. Zack got his judgment how to say, clouded by everything. He on
medicine, you give him a few days. Leave him be for now. Let him get better.
Mr. Whitney say his doctor told him Zack crazy to be running around; he broke
stitches. Leave him be to heal and to think. You must focus on work. Let Zack
decide what he want to do.” Roddy twisted his mustache nervously.

“Roddy, what aren’t you
telling me?” Now she was suspecting she had been kept in the dark about
something.

“You focus on work. Zack will
come around. I see how he look at you. He will come around. The car wait for
you.”

“Is there something you’re
keeping from me? Roddy? If it concerns me then you need to tell me. How can I
focus if I’m worrying about Zack? I can’t concentrate on work with all this.
Tell me.” She stood and faced him. She was inches taller. With her hand on her
hips and makeup only half cleaned off she gave him a look that told him she
meant business.

“You focus just fine tonight.
Keep it up. I just guess about Zack. Don’t you see he want something else. He
live with being cop. For his own reason. But he need to be in the world. He
want more. I just guess of course. That my feeling only.” Roddy dragged his
hand over his disheveled comb over. He was tired. Everything had been a lot on
him too. There was trouble in his marriage, at least Mo had guessed.

“You look exhausted. Why
don’t you go back and send the car back over. Lu’s waiting for you. The boys
are right outside. I’ll be a few minutes.” Mo hugged Roddy and kissed him on
the cheek. She watched him turn reluctantly and go. Her mind turned as she
cleansed the rest of the makeup off her face.

She looked at Lourdes Garcia
with a smile. The woman was not a fool but she had no reason to mistrust Mo. “I
left my check in Roddy’s office,” Mo said with a touch of contrition. “Do you
mind?” Meese rolled his eyes. He was ready for his day to be done. “I’ve got to
get it in the mail, rent’s due, ya know?”

“Know the feeling.” Garcia
fished out her keys and led the way. The coliseum was deserted. She heard Meese
give a huff of impatience. Zack had said these were crack people so he must
have something going for him. The security guard unlocked the door and flipped
on a switch. The florescent light buzzed. Mo went around Roddy’s desk. It was
just a hunch but didn’t cops work off of hunches all the time. She smiled at
Garcia.

“Must be here somewhere.” She
rifled through some stacks and wished she could think of an excuse to get on
Roddy’s computer. Just as she felt that it had been too long she saw it. “Oh,
that’s right. Roddy said he left it in with my new insurance policy.” She
pressed a large thick envelope to her breast. It simply said ‘Burnham’ in red
marker.

Lourdes Garcia locked the
office just as the driver came in looking for Mo. She was ready to be off her
shift too. “Goodnight, Ms. Whitman.”

“Goodnight Ms. Garcia, thank
you.” Meese and the driver escorted her to the car.

The excitement over the
photograph had caused a minor delay in plans. The coliseum was crawling with
cops and security. He had not been able to make the final arrangements. He had
to admit that he had been regretting the way things had to be. She had been so
beautiful, so triumphant. But, he soothed himself; his plan would make her as
immortal as Persephone herself. He watched her leave with Meese and the driver.
The only time she wasn’t protected was in the air. Her final flight would be
soon. She would have to thank him for the eternal fame he was going to give
her. She would beg for it before he was through.

So the clown had left a nude
picture of himself. Zack shook his head in disgust. He had created quite a
hubbub but Mo was okay. Vince Smith had taken him back to the hotel after he’d
made sure she was alright, though he hadn’t seen her. He thought about his last
encounter with Mo as he lay in pain. Refusing to take more pain killers, his
wounds hurt like hell but his headache had subsided. What an idiot. He had been
unreasonable, he could see it now. She probably never wanted to see him again
and he didn’t blame her. He had overreacted to her keeping the incident at his
condo from him. He’d realized it as soon as his head cleared a little. But he
knew the score from the look in her eyes. She had been filled with revulsion
and fear at the sight of him. She had enjoyed a body that had been unblemished.
Now he looked like a road map. He’d seen her reaction and could tell that she
had almost thrown up at the sight of him. Now he was scarred and might never be
able to use his arm normally again.

He had heard good news but it
seemed almost entirely meaningless now. Smith had said it was in the paper he
was supposed to not only be completely exonerated in Ray’s death but was also
going to receive a commendation for the bust of Bull Shaughnessy. Along with
Duke Washington. Though he was glad Shaughnessy was off the force and the
street, a woman had been killed. He drew in a sad breath and felt his life
rolling hopelessly down its glum path. It had shone for a short time. Mo had
breathed the desire for another kind of life into him. She didn’t want him now.
She’d only felt sorry for him after he’d been hurt. He didn’t want her pity
though now thinking of her he felt a hundred times worse. What a fool he’d made
of himself. But regret did nothing to alter the facts. She had been repulsed by
seeing the extent of his wounds. She could find herself a pretty boy with a
snap of her fingers. He had never questioned her attraction for him having been
so caught up in his for her. It had just been the circumstances. Extreme
circumstances for each of them. They’d been thrown together and found comfort
with each other for a brief time.