Fly With Fire

by Frances Randon

  “I’m pressing charges, Roddy. How can I possibly work with that idiot?” Mo glanced toward the door, “He assaulted me Roddy, practically rape…” Their heads turned toward the drunken yell from the hall.

  “I would never hurt you. I show you how much I care, that’s all. You turn me away. Now you find a way to get rid of me. Once and for all!” Two officers tried to keep Claude calm and get him to answer questions. Zack stood and looked at Mo and Roddy. Then turned his eyes to the Hades mask one of the cops held in the hallway.

  Son of a bitch, he thought and rubbed the scraped knuckles that had hit the floor beneath the Frenchman. “The guy’s really drunk.” He stopped at the glare Mo turned on him. “How’d he get that drunk that fast? He’s on something. Hey officer, what he’d say he was drinking?” Zack addressed one of the cops who were almost holding Claude up.”

  “He said champagne.” Zack looked at Mo. “It’s only been an hour since the show. Did he seem like he’d been drinking then?”

  “I drank champagne you sent me,” Claude was being held up by both officers now. He mumbled and Zack noticed was actually drooling. “The…note. You send the note.”

  She crossed her arms as Roddy tried to soothe her. She was not soothe receptive. “Do you think I’d fly through the air and rely on someone I thought was drinking to catch me? For crying out loud, Roddy, I’m okay. He goes or I go. Soleil de Regine is offering more money. Where was he when Ling was killed? Did he break into my room? Did you kill Ling, Claude? Did you?” Her voice broke and she sobbed into Roddy’s neck.

  “Ms. Whitman, Claude was cleared early on. He had a solid alibi. Ms. McCleary vouched…” Zack thought her eyes would burn holes when she turned toward him.

  She opened her mouth and he thought she’d spit fire. “I don’t care what he’s had to drink or what he’s on. Get him out of here!” She shrieked the last part to Zack and Roddy’s dismay. Zack nodded at the police and they hauled Claude away. “I guess we should at least make an appearance at the dinner party. Roddy, you’re the host, I shouldn’t have called you.” Mo grabbed her bag and made for the door.

  “Si, yes, you should have. You no want to go we go back to your room. Whitney’s will understand.”

  “I’m okay, Roddy. Let’s not stand the Whitney’s up.” Mo stood at the door and watched the police practically dragging Claude. She turned and nearly bumped into Roddy who was right behind her. She put her free hand on his shoulder as if to steady herself. “I didn’t send Claude champagne.” She turned and looked at Zack who stood holding the scarf she’d dropped during her struggle with Claude. “He said he drank the champagne I sent him. I didn’t. And I sure as hell didn’t send him a note.”

  “Let’s check out his room.” Zack took her by the arm and headed to Claude’s private dressing room. The door was locked and Roddy hurriedly got a maintenance man to open it. A champagne bottle lay broken on the carpeted floor. The carpet around it was saturated. Zack looked around and grabbing a tissue from Claude’s dressing table picked up the bottom half of the bottle to which was taped a note.

  Zack read the note aloud, “‘Claude, the devil’s gotten into me. Meet me in the dressing room. I need you now! Momo.’ Someone has a sick sense of humor.” Mo shook her head in disgust then stood back in surprise when Zack pulled out his pocket knife and crouched and jabbed it into the carpet.

  “Not enough on the bottle for testing,” He cut a large chunk of carpet and grabbing a plastic waste basket, set the piece of carpet upright in it so it started dripping immediately.

  “You think the champagne was drugged?” Mo grasped Roddy’s arm. She looked around the room and noticed Claude had knocked several things over as well as breaking the champagne bottle. “I have to say it’s not like Claude to allow himself to get smashed. He’s very health conscious.”

  “He was way too stoned for booze. In an hour?” Zack looked around. Rifled through a drawer looking for pill bottles. Then he searched for the cork. It was plastic but he could tell that someone had jabbed a long thin object alongside the plastic and into the bottle. “Look, right on the side of the cork.”

  Mo and Roddy looked, it was difficult to tell but they were both able to get the idea of how someone had managed to spike the champagne with drugs. “Shit, Claude.” Mo looked at Roddy.

  “Oh! I go catch the police.” Roddy started out the door.

  “Might as well let them take him. I’ll call and divert them to the hospital. He’ll need to be tested and monitored.” Zack placed the call while Mo and Roddy left the room and stood in the hall. Zack came out locking the door behind him.

  “Why don’t you go meet the Whitneys and I’ll get this to the police lab? Someone tried to set Claude up. And screw with you.” He looked at Mo. Mo and Roddy looked at each other and started to leave. “Wait Roddy. Do you know of any medications Claude is taking?”

  “No. No. Claude do not take anything but the vitamins.” Roddy rubbed his chin looking up at Zack. “You think someone try to hurt Claude?”

  “I’m not sure if this was to hurt Claude but it was certainly aimed at Mo. If he was on anything at all the lab could eliminate it.” Zack followed them out, waste basket in hand.

  “It’s late. The Whitney’s have probably given up on us.” Mo let herself be led by Roddy. “I don’t feel like this. I just want to go to my room.”

  “You are right.” Roddy looked at his watch. “I told them we are running late. I call and tell them you can’t make it. Don’t worry, I tell them you are just a little ill.”

  “Roddy, stay with her ‘til I get there, will ya?” Zack followed until they were at Roddy’s car. The driver opened the door.

  “Of course I stay with her.” He looked at Mo. She climbed into the back of the car.

  “Claude will be all right, won’t he?” Mo searched Zack’s face.

  “He’s on his way to the hospital. He was still conscious. That’s a good sign.” He held the wastebasket with the dripping carpet. “I’ll drop this off and be there as soon as I can.”

  He laughed hysterically at the fool Claude had made of himself. How easy it was to manipulate people. If you had access and a little privacy what jokes you could play. He was disturbed that Claude may have taken things too far in his altered state, but if his guess was any good Claude had one foot out the door. Trust had been undermined. Even if it was discovered that the champagne had been drugged Mo was going to have an intolerable sense of mistrust when it came to that preening Frenchman. And who would take his place? Would it be the end of the act, or perhaps even the company itself? Probably not, but delays due to the murder had already dampened global ticket sales. Though sales had bounced back, if one of the two star performers were ousted, that would leave a huge hole in the star power of the company. Arrogant jerk that he is, Claude was a talented performer. For all the wanna bes out there, he would be difficult to replace. Unless.

  He sat back and thought about Mo. He had let his temper get the better of him when he thought she was dallying with that two bit Casanova. Now it was the cop he was worried about. His supposed protection of her had gotten a little too comfortable. They were always together. He wondered if there had been anything… Oh they tried to keep the appearance of a strictly professional relationship but there were signs. She would touch his arm. They’d put their heads together and laugh. They went out for drives. Where did they go? Did he really just take her shopping? If only he could find a way into the presidential suite. Now maybe trust in the cop had been undermined as well.

  Was she deliberately trying to drive him crazy? He thought about smashing Ling’s head in and the sense of satisfaction it gave him. Of course it wasn’t Ling who’d had him so worked up. He was relieved later it had not been Mo. Letting that tumbler in her room. What did she expect when she just let men in and out her revolving door? But not him. Not him. She just played games with him. And if that was the case, she’d get what she deserved. When the time came. It was timing after all. Everything in l
ife really came down to timing. Right place at the right time. Wrong place at the wrong time. Right or wrong, still timing. One day she would see him. Up close and personal. At exactly the right time. Meanwhile, I better work on my skill set. Remaining the invisible man for one. Lots of fun and games to be had yet. Before the time came.

  Mo was curled on the white suede sofa. She furtively looked at Zack. It was odd, she thought, that she was so attracted to this cop who seemed to have dropped out of the sky. She had never been attracted to a cop and just assumed she would not be. She had harbored a number of assumptions about cops. And not all good. Here he was diligently reading the Chicago Sun Times in search of any mention of Ray. That cop’s killing and the news surrounding it was fading from media notice. The papers had been dominated by the continuous corruption investigations into the Chicago mayor, nearby mayors, county president, and governor. Zack read it all. On his own time of course, which was always spent with her.

  Mo looked at the clock. It was twelve thirty and after such a long day she would normally be asleep unless at some late night function Roddy had roped her into. The incident with Claude had upset her. Roddy had stayed until Zack returned spending a good deal of that time on his phone trying to calm his outraged wife. At least the Whitney’s had been understanding. Now she was wide awake pretending to be absorbed in a complementary magazine. She got up and dropped the magazine on the end table. It slapped against the wood. Zack looked up and saw her stretching. She had changed out of the dress she had worn earlier and replaced it with sweats and a T-shirt. Her hair was braided to one side as usual. She looked out the window and idly unbraided it and ran her fingers through it until it was a fountain of waves flowing nearly to her waist. She sighed and watched the traffic in the distance. She followed the lights of a plane as it descended soundlessly toward O’Hare airport. Then she saw him.

  She gave no hint as she eyed Zack’s reflection. He held the paper, but he watched her, his eyes barely peeping over the top edge of the tabloid style newspaper. She casually ran her fingers up to the back of her neck and lifted her hair letting it fall slowly as she pushed one hip out and stretched her arms up. She knew her figure was enticing. She knew the combination of strength and softness, long lines and curves were enough to draw any man’s attention. She subtly watched the reflection and was annoyed to find his attention in the paper again. Now she felt foolish and a little angry. But she’d seen him looking. It was time things were out in the open. She was tired of being the center of his attention and feeling completely ignored. She turned as he turned the page. He folded it back and gave it a whip to straighten it. “You don’t need this lamp do you?” Mo leaned toward the lamp near the end of the sofa. She looked at him and saw him glance over the edge of the paper.

  “No. No thanks, I’m good. You turning in?” Zack felt her restlessness. Understandable after the night’s events. They’d talked it out and came to the end of it, but both had been enervated. Now he was feeling the urge to laze on into sleep. If she was going to bed he’d do the same. He was just about to get up and take the paper into his room. His intention was diverted as he noticed her walk not to her room but directly to him. She stood in front of him. For a moment, he pretended to continue reading.

  Mo stood a moment and watched his eyes follow whatever article he was on. Then she took hold of the paper with both hands and gave it a gentle tug. He looked up. Their eyes engaged. She had nothing to say. She wanted to show what she was feeling. Words struggled to come to him but as she climbed on him and placed her knees on either side of him, no utterance could find its way to his lips. She lowered her small full mouth to his and he acquiesced as its softness lured his own mouth harder against hers. He took in the subtle citrus scent of her hair as her hands pressed on his shoulders. He could feel the heat of her on his lap and his own heat rose as she pressed harder into him. Her breasts pressed through the T-shirt. His hands slid up her sides. The fountain of black hair caressed his hands as he drew her harder against him, placing his hands on her slender neck. Her hands moved down the front of his shirt to the first button. The heat simmered in him as he felt her undo it and move to the next. Tongue met tongue tasting and circling. They explored mouth to mouth while pure heat radiated between them.

  Zack ran his hands down Mo’s arms. He brought his hands to hers as she went for the third button. He clasped her hands and gave her a gentle push. She laughed a little into his mouth as she resisted and pushed her hands through his and unclasped the third one. He was wearing a white cotton T-shirt under his light gray work shirt. She undid the fourth button and kept her mouth hard against his. He pulled her tongue in with a gentle suck. She pushed herself down onto him and felt the hot swell strain against her own warmth. Mo’s hands were on his buckle. Their lips were locked almost as in battle as she undid the buckle and pulled at his shirt. His hands glided lightly over the sides of her breasts, down her side and hips and back up again over the T-shirt. She pulled her mouth away from his and threw her head back offering her breasts to him. He grabbed the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled upward. She raised her hands and anticipated the intake of breath. His at the lovely vision he would encounter. Hers at the first touch of his hands and lips on her yearning rosettes.

  He saw. He closed his eyes. She waited. And waited.

  Mo looked down and saw he had dropped his head. For a moment she thought he had actually fallen asleep. She realized he had his eyes shut very tightly like a small boy counting hide and seek. “Zack?” she barely breathed the word.

  “This is not…we shouldn’t…” he sighed and clasped her hands. Without looking at her he pulled her hands to his mouth the kissed each one lightly. “We can’t do this. It’s not…not a good idea, given the situation…our professional…”

  She yanked her hands away and climbed off his lap. “You weren’t thinking too professionally a moment ago. Don’t like what you see? That can be remedied.” She picked up the T-shirt and held it in front of her.

  “Look I got carried away. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but when you… and I felt…you kissed…” Zack stood up stammering and adjusted himself, buckling his belt. “Ms. Whitman, Mo, you know it would change everything. I’ve got to keep a clear head. I can’t protect you if I’m preoccupied by…other things. We let attraction interfere then whoever killed Ling has one up on us, if they’re still around and after tonight I’d bet on it.”

  Mo pursed her lips and snorted. No man she had set her mind to had ever resisted her before. Now he had to get a dose of common sense and will power just in time to make her feel like a fool. Her eyes bore angry holes through him so he and tried to take her hand in his. She jerked it away. “Why didn’t you say anything right away? Now I’m in the position of feeling like I’ve sexually harassed an employee. And I feel like an idiot. I thought…maybe you…I guess that was presumptuous of me. Thank you very much for the lesson.” She turned and headed for her room feeling every bit the idiot but also baffled. He had been watching. He had kissed her back. He had responded with heat equal to that which had permeated every cell of her being. She felt his response. In his kiss, from his hands. And the response she’d felt while pressing on his lap had been unmistakable.

  Zack wanted to go after her and wrap his arms around her and make her understand. If she only knew how painful, literally painful in body and mind it had been for him when he came to his senses. He had been caught off guard. Her advance had been the last thing he had expected. There had been what some might take as mild flirtation. Nothing he would have taken seriously. There had been none of the signals he might have expected. He thought they had become friends in a way but there was no indication that this was in the works. He felt blindsided by her sudden amorous behavior. How could he have gotten a grip on himself any more quickly? He, and she, were lucky he had come to grips at all. “Mo. I wasn’t expecting this. You took me by surprise. It’s not that I don’t… not that you’re not… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings but it’s
just not right. Right now.”

  “I’m sure you’re a very old fashion kind of guy who likes to make the first move.” Mo still held the T-shirt in front of her chest. She took his breath away with her hair flowing over her shoulders. “My mistake, Detective Burnham. Your right, let’s keep it professional.” She turned and slammed the door behind her. A part of her knew she was acting like a spoiled child but the feeling of rejection overwhelmed her sense of fairness. The frustrated desire blinded her to her own part in bringing on the humiliation she felt.

  Zack stood feeling confused and guilty. Had he done the wrong thing? Should he have gone through with something he felt, no matter how desirable, would interfere with his ability to protect Mo? Indignation suddenly made him grimace with anger. She had sucker punched him and there he was feeling like a cad. He walked to her door and turned the knob. She spun as he opened it just as she shrugged into her bathrobe. Despite his anger he felt a pulse of desire. He promptly looked away. She clutched the robe around her and tied the belt. Her eyes struck his like bolts of lightning. “This is unfair. I didn’t set out to hurt you so why am I the one feeling like shit? I’m doing the best I can to keep you safe. Sex wasn’t part of the deal and as tempting as it might be, I have to think about your safety first. What a cad I am, but tough luck. Of course I responded. Who wouldn’t? As I’m sure you very well know. I’m sorry if my thinking about your safety first upset some kind of notch on your belt thing, but that’s the way it is. I refuse to feel like shit for one minute longer. Besides which, you said you were my friend. Tell a friend, remember that. I don’t have anything against the idea of friends with benefits but you have no right to be angry if a friend says no.”

  “Notch on my belt? You think I’m just trying to see how many scalps I can collect?” She paced a moment and turned with fury darting from her eyes. That look had crushed men as surely as any grinding stiletto. “I see you’ve already come to some sort of judgment about me and that I’ve merely confirmed your assumptions. Yes, Detective, you are just another notch waiting to happen. I killed my best friend just so I could seduce the first cop to turn up. It’s all a scheme to feed my implacable lust for notches on my bedpost.” She harrumphed and turned toward her bathroom. “It’s late, goodnight.”