“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 qu
ick 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.
He glanced at the door again and against his will thought about Ms. Whitman, Mo, in the bath. He felt an involuntary throb of desire and tried to tamp down the sensation, but he couldn’t help thinking of going into the bathroom and what? Offer to wash her back? He chuckled. Yeah. Fat chance, Zack. Good one. Still, he thought of her, and applied a thick layer of bubbles to the tub in his thoughts, like cops back in the day might drape a jacket over a nude victim. It was the decent thing to do. Of course, they don’t do that these days. Might disturb evidence.
She was so beautiful in her odd way. Part oriental maybe? The hair, the eyes. God, those eyes, intelligent and vulnerable. But they’d lost the humor he’d seen in them the first night. Her skin. Now pale instead of creamy. That little pink mouth, full lipped, so ripe looking like a freshly blossomed flower, or juicy fresh fruit. Now it had a strained tightness to it. He caught himself as his mind began to wander further. He felt so badly for her. He knew what it was for a friend to die tragically. Got to stay professional. He sighed again and as he let out his breathe heard a shriek from the bathroom.
Gun in hand he was through the bathroom door. He aimed it in one direction and then the other. Mo sat on the edge of the luxurious tub with the bathrobe bunched against her, her feet in the water. She seemed to be bracing herself with one hand on the edge of the tub. “Are you alright?” he asked as he cleared toilet stall.
She breathed out, a shuddering breath, “I…I stood up, I got dizzy, I just caught myself.” He went to holster his gun then realized the holster was on the night table in his room. He laid the gun on the sink. He approached her. She had not moved except to put her hand on the gilt faucet as if to support herself to rise. Frozen in this position, her head swirled. She was nauseous and feeling the beginning of a headache. “I fell asleep. I dreamed I was in a wooden box clawing to get out. The harder I tried to get out the worse it was. The panic! Then it turned into Ling in the box and I was so relieved. Relieved it was her instead of me. I was happy! I was happy it was Ling and not me. What kind of a person am I?” She pressed the bathrobe to her face and sobbed.
He gently pulled the robe from her, taking care not to look at her. He wrapped it around her shoulders. ”The kind of person who’s suffered a horrible loss. Who feels guilty that it might have been a mistake. Of course you’re not happy it was Ling. I think you should see a doctor. This is a traumatic thing for anyone to deal with.” He urged her out of the bathroom with his hands supporting her. “Do you have a doctor that travels with the company?”
“No.” She let herself be bundled into the bedroom. He got the robe on her with great discretion. He pulled the covers down on the bed and fluffed the pillows. “I hate to ask you, but, could you find out if they’re through with Linc. If I could just see Linc. I’d feel so much better.” He helped her into the bed and went to grab a towel with which he sponged water out of her braid.
“I’ll find out what I can. Ms. Whitman…”
“Mo.” She let herself be gently covered.
“Mo. I’ll see what I can find out. This investigation is very new. Everyone is suspect until they’ve been cleared. You have to understand this takes time.”
“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t your usual job, you must think I’m hysterical.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” He set the towel aside and looked at her. She looked so tiny in the enormous bed. “Try to sleep. You need rest.” But her eyes were closed. He stepped quietly from the bedroom craving to bundle her close.
Mo stuck out her tongue while the doctor guided a tongue depressor into her mouth. She looked at Zack. It’s not like she had complained of being sick. She felt so much better now after the nap. Linc was still with the cops, but the latest news was that while still a “person of interest” he hadn’t been charged with anything. He was holding up well. His cousin had come in from Cleveland and was at the police station. The police still preferred the members of the company not talk to each other until everyone’s whereabouts at the time of Ling’s murder was verified. She had talked to the people who had been cleared and to Roddy who had called from his wife’s bedside to alert her that Mr. Whitney’s personal physician would be calling on her. Zack must have called Roddy.
The doctor gave her several samples of Zanax and told her to get as much rest as possible. He handed her the card for a local therapist. “Will you bill me? What about my insurance?” Mo asked as he snapped a little used doctor’s bag shut. How did I rate a house call? She wondered.
“Mr. Whitney will take care of everything. You just take care of yourself. Anymore problems, just give my office a call.”
“Is everyone else getting this treatment?” she asked as the elevator doors shut. She threw the samples on the coffee table. No way was she taking those.
“No one else is quite in your situation,” Zack answered handing her a cup of tea he had made with the little coffee pot.
“You mean no one else is losing their grip?” Mo asked curtly, not looking at Zack, but at the tea.
“No one else had their friend’s body found in their room.” Zack was not offended. He was long used to the varied reactions of people who had suffered a tragic loss.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure like any other businessman he has to think about potential lawsuits.” Mo felt immediately ashamed of her tone. She was just snipping at the nearest person and she knew it. She looked at him. “I sound like a bitch, don’t I?”
“You sound like you’ve been through something horrible.” Zack sat down on a chair across from the sofa she was curled on. He sipped his tea.
“You’re an odd man, Detective Burnham. I can’t help but wonder how you got here.” She tried to force a smile.
“My partner was shot. Killed. Instead of paid leave I opted for the offer from the mayor’s office while IA, internal affairs, investigates. Why they offered it to me I don’t know. Then, oddly enough, perhaps due to my oddity, I wound up here.”
“I didn’t mean to say you’re strange or something. It’s just weird that I have this strange cop, a cop who’s a stranger, staying in my room. I should have said it’s odd you’re here. I’m sorry about your partner.” Mo realized they had each suffered a loss. She had just been thinking about her own grief. “Were you good friends with your partner?”
“We were best friends. Though Ray was a couple years older. Altar boys together, St. Gabe’s, Gabriel’s, down on the south side. Best man at each other’s weddings. Went through the ranks together. He made detective a couple years before me, he was so smart. Good cop. Great man. He stayed in the neighborhood, still lived there I mean. Involved with the community. When I got married my wife was from Glencoe. North of the city. Well, it’s not exactly what we call ‘backa the Yards’. That’s the south side. She wanted to live uptown. So.” Zack shrugged his shoulders. “But Ray stayed in the neighborhood.”
“And you’re?” Well, no ring. Mo glanced at his large left hand holding the teacup.
“Divorced.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Mo squirmed a little uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes by sipping her tea.
“It was for the best. Hey, the rain’s cleared up.” He nodded toward the huge windows. She had slept the afternoon away and now it was past seven. A shimmer of sun lined the dark clouds receding into the western sky. She wasn’t a big believer in heaven, but just now she couldn’t help but imagine Ling with wings flying above the clouds. She smiled at the thought. She looked at Zack and saw him concentrating on her. His green gaze was penetrating and compassion
ate, as if he knew what she was thinking. She lowered her eyes at the same time he looked away.
“I’ll get dressed now, I’ve been in this bathrobe almost all afternoon and evening,” she said with a nervous laugh. She made for the bedroom then stopped and turned. “What about you, you don’t have any clothes here, do you?
“I’ll be alright. I thought I’d go get something tomorrow. Vince Smith will have someone stay with you.”
“But you’ve been here since yesterday. I’m sure I’d be alright if you wanted to go tonight.” She knew she really wouldn’t be but she felt guilty, about to put on the clean clothes he had retrieved for her. “I’m sure you would like to get out of here for a while. I wish I could myself. I’d love to get out of this room for a bit. Get some fresh air. Maybe take a walk. But with the press and all…”
Zack started to protest then looked out the window. Mo’s heart sank a little realizing he might take her up on the offer. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said.
They zoomed toward the city in his Mitsubishi. He’d had Janet Ben-Ghury, one of Vince Smith’s team, pull his car around to a service entrance, managing to slip out unseen by the press. They rode with the windows down, the smell of rain still in the air. The air was clean and cool after the storms had moved out. It was well after rush hour but there was still heavy traffic. The last light was fading, the last scattering of dark clouds pushed west but some fog lingered in wisps high in the sky blown in swirls by the breeze. It felt wonderful to be out of the hotel. When they hit Lake Shore Drive, Mo was riveted by the view of the sparkling curved line of Chicago. It stretched as far as she could see. The tops of the tallest buildings were partially hidden in the moving clouds. City lights were blinking on high up over the lowest clouds. They’d be revealed one moment then shrouded the next. The vast expanse of lake was already dark but the well lit shore had sprung to life with walkers, bikers, and bladers, many with their dogs, not about to let some wet pavement stop their routines.
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