“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, ho
w 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.
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 sig
h. Thank god for fools, he thought.
Four
“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.”
Fly With Fire Page 6