Fly With Fire (9 page)

Other than the mess it looked
like any other upscale hotel suite. The coffee maker was in place. The cups had
been taken. Finger print dust was on every surface. All the drawers had been
gone through as well as the closet. The toiletries had been dusted as well as
the sink, toilet handle and bath faucets. He looked at her makeup and lotions,
her private woman things he thought. He didn’t know from Clinique but he knew
high end when he saw it. He could see the shine where the tub had been sprayed
with iridescent solution to detect trace amounts of blood. A cosmetic case had
been left on the unmade bed. It hadn’t been considered evidence apparently. He
took it into the bathroom and started collecting things. He threw her
toothbrush and paste along with all the different bottles and jars into the
cosmetic case.

“I guess she bought it on the
couch there.” The pit bull is a bright one isn’t he? Zack thought reaching into
the shower for shampoo. He looked in the cabinet. Okay, she’s on her own there,
he said to himself looking at her feminine products. On the nightstand was a
copy of Eric Larson’s ‘Devil in the White City’. Guess she thought she’d read
up on the locale, he thought with a chuckle. “So you think it’s the black guy?
That’s what they think right? Wanted himself a little slant.” Zack looked at
the pudgy face. He’d like to make trouble for this guy. Just not right now. He
picked up the dusty book and put it in the case. “You should hurry it up. I’m
supposed to be outside the door.”

“You’re doing a great job
watching the place. I’ll put in a word.” He rifled through her clothes and
threw some things on the bed. “She should have a suitcase or two.”

“Yeah, guess they got those
in evidence.” The guard tossed a pillow to the end of the bed. “Pillowcases are
useful.” He looked at the jewelry on the dresser.  He fingered a gold
bracelet. Zack brushed next to him.

“Excuse me, what did you say
your name was?” He swept the jewelry into the case. She’d have to untangle it.

“Disdale, Stan. They didn’t
make a plate for me yet.”

New on the job and already
screwed it, Zack thought. “Stan, Al will be glad to hear how professional you’ve
been. Mayor Tyler too.” He picked up the filled pillow case. “You see I didn’t
take anything that was marked or bagged. You kept an eye on me the whole time.
Good job. Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, you think you could
swing some tickets my way? She’s the star, right? You know my kids would like…”

“No problem, Stan. I’ll see
you get what you deserve. Thanks again.” Zack headed for the elevator while
Disdale watched. He gave Zack kind of a friendly wave and crossed his arms
standing erectly. Zack nodded and entered the elevator with a sigh. Thank god
for fools, he thought.

“Thank you so much! My
toothbrush! It’s amazing what we take for granted until we have to do without
it. I really appreciate all your help, Detective Burnham.” Mo dug into the pillowcase
and clutched a flannel tank top. “Roddy, I feel civilized again! Some, anyway.”
She went through her toiletries. “Thank God, at least I can clean myself up and
put on clean clothes. Jesus. Ling has just been murdered and I’m carrying on
about my toothbrush.”

“Momo, we are only human. The
fragility of life make us to know it is little things, little pleasures; make
us appreciate our good fortune. Ling would not, how to say, begrudge you the
comfort of having your own things.” Roddy helped himself to a liqueur with a
shrug. “How many days do I have off?”

“Maybe, two in a year.” Mo
offered Zack a drink. He shook his head.

“On duty, tame as it may
seem. Roddy, how’s your wife feeling?” Zack leaned against the doorway to the
bedroom. Roddy took a long drink.

“Luciana still have the
migraine. How she suffer. But, she never complain. She is how to say, stoic.
Si, a saint!” Mo’s lips drew tight. Zack wondered if that indicated she had a
difference of opinion. “She don’t like me to be around when she has the
headache. She say ‘Roddy, you so noisy, I must rest. Go. Go!’ She say this
every time. I take her something in a while. She no like to eat, but the
medicine hurt her stomach. She must eat! Detective? Zack?” Roddy took advantage
of Mo’s going into the bathroom. “The mayor send you to keep the eye out. On
Momo. They think killer still around? Want to hurt Momo? How long you stay to
protect her?”

“I’m sure Detective Burnham
will have to resume his usual duties soon.” Mo came out of the bathroom and
began tidying up the garments from the pillowcase. She hung a couple things in
the closet and made use of the drawers.

“The mayor has instructed me
to get a room and stay put for the time being. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me
for a few days, Ms. Whitman. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way, if you
don’t do anything foolish like wander off alone.”

“I, we, will need to resume
rehearsals as soon as possible. I hope you don’t find yourself too bored with
your present detail. Since you’re going to be around awhile, you may as well
call me Mo. And call this lunkhead, lunkhead.” She jerked a thumb at Roddy.

“Okay, Mo, its Zack. I’m
going to go make arrangements for a room. I’ll be back shortly, if Roddy can
stay a while longer.”

“You can count me in, Zack! I
protect my precious star with my life!” Roddy finished his drink with gusto.
“Lunkhead? What mean lunkhead?” Zack heard Roddy ask as the elevator door
closed.  

Mo looked out the window at the
hotel parking lot. There were still media trucks waiting for an interview or to
be the first to get a scoop on any breaking news. They’d had been parked near
the police station as well but she had the advantage of the rain and Zack to
avoid them.  She was still steamed about Al Simpson. “Roddy, who would
kill Ling? Who would want to? Or me? Were they after me?” She had a habit of
twisting her braid when nervous or thoughtful. Now she was both. She reached
behind her head and twisted it at the base. “Poor Ling, Roddy. So young and
full of life. Poor Linc. He was so in love with her, but she wasn’t ready for
that. Though she loved him dearly as a friend”

“Life is uncertain thing.
People uncertain as well.” Roddy’s heart grieved for Ling but his immediate concern
was Mo and the show. He had gotten her into the show. Despite a great deal of
resistance on her part. He had known right away she was special, truly an
artist, when he had first seen her in the low rent circus she was performing in
at sixteen. She was on her own and taking care of her grandmother who was an
amazing woman. Mo had inherited her talent and confidence. Her grandmother
coached her rigorously from a wheelchair. She was all Mo had, a little Mohawk
Indian woman in a wheelchair who barked instructions and criticisms one moment
and coddled and praised the next. Mo had been utterly devoted to her.

Her grandmother had been part
of the deal. Mo had started out at the bottom of the ladder at a small salary.
Gram continued to coach Mo from the wheelchair and was a vexation to the other
trapeze artists who learned a great deal from the stubborn, determined woman.
Mo rose quickly and worked as an understudy for Luciana, star of the trapeze
act. Roddy had known immediately Mo was going to be the star of a new kind of
circus. Luciana was at the end of her career. The company was pushing Roddy to
replace her. Hard as it was he had given the pink slip to the woman he loved.
In return, the company financed Roddy’s idea for the stunning spectacle that
was to become La Cirque du Celestial.

The road was hard on Gram,
and Mo had almost quit a few times for her sake. Her grandmother wanted to see
Mo secure in a position that would make sure she was set for life. She had
shared the company vision for a new sort of act. Something that had not been
seen before. Mo became the premier act and the success of the company as a
world class entertainment had made Mo’s future secure. Gram died knowing that
while she would only be the star for so long, she would be able to coach others
with ambition and talent. The sharp old woman had socked money into an
insurance policy for Mo. Just in case. Now Mo had Roddy, who was like a father
as well as coach and manager of the show. Her grandmother had trusted Roddy
implicitly and was relieved to die knowing he would be there for her.

She would get through this,
he thought. They all would because they had each other. “Mo, I know it hard for
you to be still, not to work. It hard for me too. I wish you get a little
sleep. You said you do not sleep good last night. I stay here till Zack return.
You go to sleep. Rest.” Though he was a partner, he was glad he did not deal
with the business end of the company or at least not in a public way. No press
conferences, lawyers, suits about cancellations. His focus was on the
performers and managing the tour. “The police want coliseum at least through
tomorrow and maybe more. We do best we can.”

“I don’t understand why they
need to keep everyone out of the coliseum. The murder didn’t happen there. I would
feel better if we could get back to work. Ling would have wanted it.” She
plopped down in her flannel tank and shorts. She had been watching the storm
thinking how appropriate the weather was. She couldn’t have stood a pleasant,
sunny day. “Why don’t you go check on Luciana. You don’t have to babysit me. No
one can come up here without a key to the elevator. What’s that door to?”

“It’s presidential suite. It
must be another bedroom. Prego! Zack stay right there! Really keep eye on you.”
Roddy got up and tried the door. “It’s locked, give me key.”

“I don’t have a key. Why
would they lock it? Maybe they keep it locked unless a second bedroom is
requested. I guess I should get a key. But Detective Burnham doesn’t need to
stay there. I don’t need a babysitter and I’m sure he considers being stuck on
me an even worse punishment than being stuck on the mayor. I wonder what that’s
all about anyway.”

“Something Senor Whitney say
about his partner was killed. The police investigate.” Roddy paced a moment. “I
feel better if Zack stay right here. I go get him before he get room.”

“His partner was killed and
you think I’m better off if he stays in the next bedroom?” Mo put a hand on
Roddy’s arm. “I’ll be okay. The city will pay for his room. I didn’t ask for
special protection. I don’t know what Mayor Tyler was thinking. Not that I’m
ungrateful.”

“For me, or I stay here
myself.” Hands on hips, Roddy gave her his most stubborn look. She knew that
look.

She knew that determined
tone. “You need to stay with your wife. She already thinks I’m trying to steal
you away! Okay, go catch Detective Burnham.” She gave him the elevator key.

“Roddy worries too much, I’m
sure I’m safe here. I can’t imagine this is the kind of thing you want to be
doing.” Mo paced nervously in her bath robe. The truth was that in the time she
was alone she couldn’t get the fear out of her mind. She had expected Roddy to
return with Zack. He had gotten a call from his wife and went to check on her.
After talking to Vince Smith and giving the mayor’s office another update, Zack
had gone back to the presidential suite with key in hand for the locked
bedroom.

“Tyler wants me to keep an
eye on you, and this is the best way. Just an oversight with the key. Nothing
mysterious. I can hang in here and you can go about your business knowing I’m
within earshot. So why don’t you go get the chill off? Hot bath will do you
good.” He inspected the other bedroom. “Hey, I even have my own bathroom! Take
all the time you need.” He chuckled. “Sorry. I know you’re not in a joking mood
exactly.”

“It’s alright, Detect…Zack. I
don’t know right now if this is all a nightmare or one big joke. I’m not
laughing so I hope I wake up.” She hugged herself in the thick bathrobe. “Mind
if I turn the air conditioning down? I think I will take that bath.”

Zack thought she looked tiny
in the big, fluffy robe. Odd how people could look so different according to
place and situation. Her apparent vulnerability was incongruous with the
strong, fiery goddess she had portrayed such a short time ago. Her makeup free
face was almost childlike, with its dash of freckles and pale cream complexion.
If she had not been a stranger he would have just followed his impulse and put
his arms around her. Just to comfort her, of course. “Here, I’ve turned it
down. If you get too warm, just give a shout.” He watched her pad off to the
bathroom.

Zack lay on his bed with the
copy of the Chicago Sun Times he’d picked up in the lobby. A copy had been
delivered to the room early in the morning but he felt it was presumptuous to
look at her unread paper. ‘Feds Take Deeper Look into Mayor’s Building Union
Connections’.  The headline made Zack sigh. Tyler always seemed to be the
focus of one corruption investigation or another. Some he figured were
unjustified. Others? Well he knew how things went. Endemic corruption had
always been a feature of Chicago politics. Who the hell knew how to vote when
there was no lesser of two evils? He looked at his cracked door, listened, then
continued reading. His mind wandered to Ray. How had Ray managed to get shot by
a two bit punk with his own gun? He knew some were looking at him as somehow
being responsible. Wasn’t he quick enough? Why’d they separate? He’d been asked
these and other questions a thousand times. Was Ray dirty? Now, that was the
one that got his goat. It was out of his hands now. They’d decide what they’d
decide and surely they’d conclude Ray and he weren’t dirty. In the meantime
this wasn’t bad. At least he didn’t have to be around Tyler every day. Still,
it was odd how they’d bumped him to that tour. A choice tour. Guess they ran
out of desks to put cops under investigation behind. Just look at the paper.
Small wonder.