He was too angry to contain it. He caught her before she went through the door. His hand was on her arm as she turned angrily on him. The look on his face stopped her. She had never seen such anger toward her from a man whose face was inches from her own. A hard prick of fear spiked into her chest. Then the fog of her own anger cleared and she saw the pain in his face.
The anger was mixed with confusion and hurt. He glared at her with his hand on her arm. She saw his sense of right and wrong. Fair and unfair. His sense of justice and she knew she had attacked the most basic part of him. Beyond all things he was a man who had dedicated his life to justice. His sense of it was essential to who he was. Her ego had caused her to insult everything that was good in him. The very thing that made his life worth living. She saw all this in an instant and knew he would not hurt her. They stood and looked at each other until she gently peeled his hand from her arm. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s my fault. It was foolish of me and I compromised you. But I want you to know I don’t just go around seducing whatever man is available. I’m not trying to beat a record. It’s unfair for you to think so.”
His eyes softened. “I don’t think that. I know you a little, anyway. I’m not a guy who judges women on those terms. I don’t think woman, or men, should be too frivolous about…attraction. We were both pissed. I’m sorry I said the notch thing.” He saw a flash of hurt in her eyes and wished he could just hold her. “It’s been an upsetting night. Let’s get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow we’ll know what the hell we’re doing.” He touched her cheek lightly without thinking. “Good night.”
Mo watched him turn and clasped her arms tight around herself. “Zack.” He turned wearily towards her. Her voice was strained. “Just so there’s no mistake. I knew exactly what I was doing.” She turned into the bathroom and left Zack standing there.
She had slept late and was still tired. Foregoing her workout had made her feel grumpy and the excess caffeine she had consumed had only served to make her jittery. Roddy watched impatiently as Misha, with what he thought of as his big, clunky body, substituted for Claude who had returned to his room from the hospital with a blinding headache. It was another busy day in the life of La Cirque du Celestial. And the general mood was as grim as Claude’s hangover.
“Why can’t I move from that position? I’ve gotten it down. I’m not going to get in her way.” Deb glanced up resentfully at Mo.
“I don’t want to go through the ring of fire like that, Roddy. It doesn’t work from the down view.” Luca, a tumbler, complained.
“What am I supposed to do about these tears? I don’t have time to wait for more fabric.” Sally clacked away indignantly in her heels.
“Funny? What’s funny about hell?” Trollie had shorts and a tee on. But his face was made up as usual. “The front office wants more comic relief? I’m IRONIC relief. This isn’t Ringling.” He swung his carrot topped head in a huff and rode off on his tiny bicycle.
Roddy dropped into a chair next to Zack who was looking over the just delivered report. He rolled his eyes when Zack looked at him. “I tell you Zack, some days I am like kindergardening teacher. Just keeping the order and hoping something gets learned.”
Zack smiled at kindergardening. “I hate to make your day any more special, but Harve over at Greendale police just sent these results over. Claude.”
“That is quick. What it say?” Roddy brushed a hand through his comb over and leaned toward Zack.
“Someone used a syringe to spike the champagne with Phenobarbitol. Do you know what that is? A powerful…”
“I know what it is, my wife used to take it for the headache. Is someone trying to kill Claude? Well, maybe not so surprising. How you get results so fast? Maybe they rush. Maybe they are wrong.” Roddy seemed nervous. It was unusual and gained Zack’s attention.
“Roddy, are you all right? Lot’s of people have taken this drug. Your wife has been eliminated as a suspect. So have you. Do you know something you’re not telling me?” Zack eyed the Italian. “Does someone else you know of take, or have access to Phenobarbitol?” He tapped the report with his forefinger.
“I don’t want to say but Linc brother come to visit last stop, New Orleans. He have the seizure he take that drug for. He stay in room with Linc. Last day of visit he say drug is missing. Had to get new prescrip…how to say, oh, call his doctor to get more. He say it must be stolen, but Linc say his brother lost. Say his brother forget a lot of things. I don’t know why somebody do these things! Zack, maybe someone is trying to sabotage the show.” His Chihuahua eyes looked questioningly at the detective. “We have made a name with great speed. We struggle for attention and suddenly, boom! We sell out the tickets where ever we go. You see how it is. We may be the first of this kind of show, but there are others. Plenty of imitators. There are companies who do anything to bring us down. But murder? No. I cannot believe it. The incidents not related maybe.”
“But this latest incident was still an attack on Mo. Yes, perhaps it would benefit another company or even just an individual performer to seed mistrust between your two stars. Divide and conquer. Who would benefit from creating friction between your stars? Another company’s meddling would guarantee nothing. After the murder ticket sales flagged globally for about five minutes, then bounced right back. I don’t think this is about competition between companies or performers. I think it’s about Mo. And I think it’s very personal.”
“I don’t want to think someone perhaps want to attack Mo. What you call that Misha? Do again. Oh, for Christo’s sake!” Roddy turned back to Zack. “He’s a sweet boy, but he will never be principle. I need understudy for both Mo and Claude. They cannot work the six days always. Bodies need to rest. Deb is coming along, but she not ready. She is getting better, but her poor training get in her way. Too many circus people think they can do what we do. I have hundreds of applications. But to be perfect? Like Mo? Even Claude, very rare, Zack, I tell you. I am worried about my Momo. She in bad mood today.”
“I worry about Mo, too, Roddy. She keeps a pace that would kill me.” Zack looked up and watched Mo being caught by Misha. She seemed stiff. He wobbly. There was certainly not the same ease and trust there was with Claude. Could the show make it without one of them? Could someone be betting it would at least cause major delays if one of them had to be replaced? Yet, surely there were many talented performers longing for a shot.
He started thinking about the night before. The excitement of the kiss. How she felt pressing on his lap. How he couldn’t get her proffered breasts out of his mind. He felt like his head had been spinning ever since. He felt that he was now compromised in his ability to protect her. He’d lost his balance as if he himself were standing on a moving swing. Flying with fire. “Look Roddy, we can speculate all we want; the main thing is to protect your performers. The cops have dick, and we have less to go on than they do. It’s time to bring in a firm. More manpower, plus investigators. Someone who does this professionally. I screwed up last night Roddy. Mo made light of it, but Claude got by me because I went to check out some noise I heard near the rear exits on that end of the building. I heard her scream, but if it had been a real attacker, I might have been too late.” He looked at Roddy’s arched brows.
“Zack, you hard on yourself, of course you go to see to noise.” Roddy shrugged. “You cannot be every place.”
“That’s the point, Roddy, I can’t. This needs more people. I don’t think I can protect her by myself. I’ve looked into some local, Chicago firms. I made a list of those with the best reps…reputations. If I can’t keep one drunk away from her I doubt my ability to protect her at all.”
“Absurd! Zack! You need more people we get more people, but you stay on job. I talk to mayor. He say he trust you with his life. Futoma, you do good job! Good form! Hold straighter Juan! What wrong with you? Jesus! Jesus, you and Juan look hung over. Get you heads together. They are terrible twins. Great performers but never know when to stop the party!” Roddy blew a kiss at Sal
who was breezing back through with an armload. Her frustration was apparently defused by the air kiss since she stuck out her tongue at Roddy and threw Zack a wink.
Zack was still thinking of the comment about the mayor. A mild exaggeration to say the least. Zack found it hard to believe Tyler would say anything positive about him. “I’ve got to go into the city today. Vince Smith is sending Janet Ben-Ghury over for a few hours to fill in if that meets your approval. I can contact these firms and get the ball rolling if you like. Someone wants to get to Mo Whitman. I’ve lost confidence I can handle this myself.” Zack snapped the file shut with a last glance up at Mo.
“Went into the city? He didn’t tell me he was taking the day off. No offence Ms. Ben-Ghury, but this comes as surprise.”
“It’s just a few hours, Momo. Zack got things to take care of. He got a life on hold. He arrange for more security to help starting tomorrow. He will be back for the show tonight. Ms. Ben-Ghury, I thank you, you help us on the short notice.” Roddy turned to soothe the fuming Mo. “Zack, will be back for the show. He make sure you have protection. He work seven days a week, twenty four hours all day. He need a break. To take care of some things.”
“Ms. Whitman, I will stay with you every moment.” Mo eyed Ben-Ghury. Mo had heard from Zack she was former FBI who had switched jobs to settle down. After two kids the husband had run off with a grad student and she took every bit of extra work she could to make ends meet. But it was on hotel security’s watch Ling had been murdered. What a comfort.
“Thank you, Ms. Ben-Ghury. I appreciate you helping us out on your day off.” Her anger burned beneath the surface. But she maintained her polite demeanor. “I’ve got to get back to practice.” How dare he? Was this to teach her some sort of a lesson or did he really think so much less of her? Had she frightened him? Had she created a situation too awkward for him to deal with? What if he quit? Would he be so petty? Had she so misjudged his looks and the way he’d been with her? Had he gotten called back to work? He would have said so. Zack wouldn’t just bale on her without a word. She was certain of it. Wasn’t she?
Oh, what a fool she was. She’d completely thrown him with her impulsive behavior. Not only ruined their professional relationship, but also a growing friendship. He must think she jumps into bed with every man she’s just met. How could she be so stupid? Wait. Who was he to judge her?
Well if he was such a judgmental fool, such an old fashioned guy who was scared off so easily, to hell with him. In just a few days they’d be on their way. Washington D. C. was the next stop with a brief respite while everything was moved. She’d fly up to Montreal for a few days and just enjoy quiet in her condo. Get to know her chosen home a little better. Zack Burnham would be history. She IS stupid. What was she thinking trying to jump the bones of a man she’d known such a short time? He had his own problems after all and what was this but a gig to fill in until his real life got sorted out. He was grieving for a friend as well, wasn’t he? The fact that his partner was corrupt didn’t relieve him of that grief. It had surely deepened it. And what was he to think after all? She’d be gone soon and this whole thing would be all over. Let’s fuck, see you around. Would suit most men. Not Detective Burnham apparently. What was it about him? He wasn’t even her type. At least not until lately. How could he spring this on her? Oh, what did she care? When would he be back? He would be back.
“Got your mind somewhere else?” Deb was warming up. She’d been working hard on perfecting her skills. She had been practicing rigorously. She even announced she had quit smoking. Her performance was getting better and better. But she was in the background. Mo noticed and admired Deb’s efforts. Deb had a well proportioned body. She had an attractive face that was really be striking with the stage makeup. Her balance was excellent. Attitude was her primary problem as far as Mo could see.
Mo had lost her understudy to a contraception failure. Deb thought she was ready to understudy but Roddy said no, not yet. She frowned. She sure could use the billing on the Sunday double now that a matinee was going to be on the schedule permanently. The money.
“Just wondering how Claude is.” Mo looked at Deb. She and Deb had never really warmed to each other for the reasons Mo had considered the night before. Mo wondered briefly if she herself felt threatened. She dismissed that idea. She was secure in her abilities. It was too early in her career for that. She thought of Luciana’s reaction when Mo became her understudy. How Mo had tried to please her. Luciana had been the classic diva. She enslaved Mo and made her pay and pay for being the winding sheet of her own career. Only because of Roddy had life been tolerable. Only because of him had she had the shot. Then she’d been triumphant, and the company decided enough was enough. She had been triumphant and Roddy had made the call. Luciana was out and would never forgive her. She may have forgiven the man who had retired her. She even married him. But she never forgave Mo for being the new star.
“Misha has been working out. He knows he needs to try harder. He told me it affects his confidence when Claude treats him an idiot. He doesn’t even hang out with us anymore. I think he’s depressed. Maybe if you said something, you know, positive like.” Deb gave her an uncertain half smile. A little defensive. A little ingratiating. Mo realized Deb tiptoed around her. Resentfully. Could she blame her? If she hadn’t made it more difficult, she probably had been too wrapped up in her own career to help make it any easier. Who’s the diva now? Is that what they all think? Her cute little egalitarian gestures. Oh no private dressing room for me. I’m just one of you. Except I’m making a million a year. How they must laugh at her.
“Deb, we can encourage Misha, but he’s not going to understudy Claude. This has been explained to him. Misha has a good paying job he’s lucky to have. He is very high on the billing as Zeus but he’s not good enough if Claude can’t perform. He shouldn’t pay attention to Claude but it doesn’t matter. Roddy has interviews set up with some top people.”
Deb nodded, but her look said she also took it that she would not understudy either. There was a mixture of unspoken disappointment and anxiety in her face.
“Deb, I want you to make an effort to think more positively. Try to relax behind the moves. I feel like you’re stressed. Tell me what I can do to help you with that. Once we achieve that confidence we’ll work on the fire exercises. I know you can do this, Deb. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Hey, I want those Sundays off!” Mo focused on the young woman whose expression became upbeat immediately. She only thought of Zack every few minutes.
Luciana waved the cigar smoke with a look of disgust. “Extending the run? Here? Three more weeks? Put that thing out for God’s sake, Roddy.”
The financing for “Music on a Summer Night” had fallen through. Greendale Coliseum’s next big draw had fallen off the map while the current show had people pounding down the doors for tickets. The D.C. arena had been damaged by a small earthquake. It would be weeks before it would be ready and all other venues were booked. Greendale Coliseum had leapt on the capitol’s misfortune. The money from the constantly sold out shows was like a river the owners wanted to keep flowing. It was an impossibly long run for the show. But he knew his people could handle it. Now he had an understudy for Claude. Suddenly Deb was really coming along. His stars might get Sundays off. That could only help with morale. “Two more at least, maybe three. But we will have few days off, before second run. Sunday through Thursday. What difference we here or the Washington D.C.? We will be together my love.”
Luciana paced the room. “I’m sick of hotel rooms, Roddy. I want to go to New York awhile. Come up on the break. I have nothing to do I might as well go home for a visit. I haven’t seen Ma and Pa in six months.”
“But you shop. You go to lunch with Mrs. Whitney. Mayor Tyler’s wife has invited you.” Roddy dashed the cigar out absently.
“I’m sick of those pretentious snots. They invite me because their husbands told them to, but I know what they think of me.” She pursed her lips and glared. I c
an’t perform and you work fourteen hours a day babysitting Monica Whitman.”
“Luciana, she is star!” Roddy shrugged with impatience then softened his tone. “This has been terrible time for her. You should have more sympathetic.”
“Sympathy. What about me? Do you ever think about what I need? You only think about her. And the show. What am I here for?” She started to tear up. Roddy flew from behind his desk.
“Mi amore! You know what I try to build here. The best show ever. I cannot do it without you. You need break? Si. We take break. As soon as extended run over we go to Padua for a few days.” This seemed entirely logical to Roddy.
“Visiting your mother is not what I had in mind, Rodrigo.” She only called him that when she was really upset. “I’m going to New York to spend some time with my friends. You can have your precious show but you remember that you’re the one who fired me. Now I have nothing to do and I have to look at that woman every day. The one you chose to replace me.” She slammed out the door as Zack was about to enter. She saw him and readjusted her demeanor giving him a flirtatious look. “Detective Burnham. It looks like your job is going to be extended. Why don’t we have lunch some time? You seem to have become a permanent fixture. I’d like to get to know you better.” She put a hand on his forearm. “He’s inside.” She looked over her shoulder as she strode off.
“Women!” Roddy cried out as Zack entered. He lit a cigar and puffed with desperation. He held up his cigar case with a questioning arch of his brows. Zack shook his head. “A brandy, Zack?” Roddy waved at his bar which was always set up with excellent wines and liquors.
Fly With Fire Page 15