“I know nothing about Senor Bull.” She squashed out the cigarette in a ceramic frog ashtray. “Ray tell me nothing. Some of the time Curtis he come here with some people. I never saw this Bull.” She looked at the stack of magazines she had been cutting pictures out of then focused on the scissors.
“That’s not what you told Burnham. You’re afraid of Shaughnessy. So is Lyons and everybody else involved. Who killed Ray? Did Lyons do it? Did he do it for Bull? Bull got an eye full of you and an itch to gamble and wanted Ray out of the way?”
“Who tell you Bull gamble?” She caught herself with a quick intake of breath. “I mean you know a lot about this Bull, why you ask me?”
“Bull Shaughnessy’s spending a lot of money out on the boat. Ten thousand in one night, senorita. That’s a lot of dinero de mortgage. He being stingy with you? He believes in keepin’ a woman in her place. Always said so. Did he tell you he loves you? Bet he did. But let me tell you something. Bull Shaughnessy could make you disappear. Who’s gonna try to find you Ms. Villareal? Unless you tell me everything you know, that’s what’s gonna happen when he’s hears you told me he was a partner with Ray all along. That’s what I think. Your gonna wish you were deported. I don’t care about you. I’m not interested in your immigration issues. And Ray, the bastard, is dead. I want to know what Bull knew. And how deeply he was involved. Then you’re gonna help me set him up, ‘cause if you don’t, it’s back to Honduras, senorita. If Bull doesn’t deport you first.”
“Curtis Lyons know everything. He hide from police. He scared he get blame for Ray. All I know is Ray and Bull have fight. Ray said he was going to have Curtis kill Bull. He said Bull too dangerous. Want more money. He fix arrest records and get thee…thee informacion… and drug dealers to steal. He want it all. All the money. He came to me and say how I like it Ray went away. I say No! I love Ray! He laugh and say its joke. Then Ray dead. I do no think Curtis kill Ray. He did no like Ray. But he no kill him.” She seemed scared and exhausted. Good.
Now to get Bull, Al thought as he strapped on his seatbelt in his Crown Victoria. But he’d have to find Lyons. Like it or not there weren’t that many people in the CPD he felt he could trust on this. He’d need Zack Burnham’s help and it was just a little galling.
Zack dropped his duffle and looked around with a sense of unfinished business as he thought about the last few days. He kept telling himself things were working out for the best. Life was back to normal now. Well, not quite. But he was back in his own place. His own pace. He could spend more time proving that the very cop who was supposed to be clearing his name had been involved with Ray’s dirty business from the get go. Al had given him some possible leads to finding Lyons. Tyler was pissed he had left his position with the show. But he couldn’t tell Zack what to do with his leave. Zack could try to resolve his situation so he could get back to work and get on with his life. Just because some raven haired superhuman had walked into his life didn’t mean he couldn’t get a grip on things.
After all, what would have happened? What could have happened? The show would be over sometime and she’d be literally flying off to some other city and some other… He didn’t want to think about her. Maybe he should’ve been with her while he could. If she could be so cavalier about it all then so could he. Then they would have both moved on. Yeah, it’s been swell; see ya ‘round.
He wasn’t going to think about her another minute. He was going to go for a run and let it all out. He needed the day. Run, do laundry, sort some stuff out. Then first thing in the morning check out the leads from Al. They could barely stand each other but they had a goal in common. Not that Al gave a shit about Zack’s job or reputation. If it had just been that, he’d be waiting till the Chicago River changed direction again. Al had his own motives and that was fine with Zack. But they could help each other. And they would have to trust each other. Like he’d trusted Ray? Who could he really trust? Al? Tyler? He headed for Grant Park. It was a warm, breezy afternoon. Nice day for a run on the lake. He picked up the pace.
She’s probably on that plane to Montreal. She was just fine with the arrangements. He’d moved out of the room and left everything in the hands of the professionals. He was a cop, not a bodyguard. She would forget about him by the time her plane landed in Montreal. She thought of little else besides her career anyway. Maybe that’s what it took to be the best at something like that. Think about it, it wasn’t exactly normal people who did jobs like that. Always on the road. He’d always been rooted to one place. He’d always liked traveling when he could. He loved Chicago in a way only Chicagoans loved their city, but he had thought about doing something to let him get around more. See more of the world. He once considered a job as security for a cruise line. But he made detective and followed the family tradition. He loved the work, at first. Zack realized he wasn’t actually looking forward to going back to his job. Even as he astonished himself with that revelation he wondered what she would be doing in Montreal. Another world. Another life. Enough. He would clear his name and get back to work. The job would be perfect if it weren’t for the politics, the corruption and the constant immersion in the dark side of humanity.
The performers of La Cirque du Celestial made their living selling the fantastic. Fantasy. Escapism. They moved from city to city barely drawing in a breath of real life in between. He would have been just a diversion. It would have been a nice diversion. He felt a pang at the thought of her. He would have served a short term purpose then she would have forgotten him as quickly as she would forget her room number. He passed by the Field Museum and noticed the long lines of people waiting to get in the Tutankhamen exhibit. He wouldn’t mind checking that out. If he could find the time. She had mentioned wanting to see it. As soon as she could get a few hours free. She had done some reading about the exhibit and had come up with an idea for a show involving an Egyptian theme. She wanted to sell it to the company. He imagined her with lined eyes in a tightly fitting Egyptian gown. Was there someone in Montreal who would give her what he did not? Had he been too fastidious? He’d wanted to be objective to be able to protect her. Now he wasn’t protecting her at all. Al was probably right and Ling’s killer long gone. She didn’t need him. And he didn’t need to think about her any more than he already had, which had been way too much. He wondered if she was thinking about him.
“Hey! Hey copper! Hey big guy! Zack!” Zack didn’t know if he was breaking harder physically or mentally. He did a quick sidestep off the lakeside trail and nearly ran into a kid with a kite. Marilyn blond in Lolita sunglasses was his thought as Cherisse bladed to a smooth stop. She wore low riding exercise shorts with “Hello Kitty” all over them. Her bikini top left little to the imagination. Her even teeth sparkled as brightly as the gold ring in her navel. “Lost in your thoughts, Detective?”
Zack’s shaded eyes ran down the curve of her lingerie model form. “Just trying to get the juices flowing. How ya doing?”
“Not something I have a problem with when I come down here to watch the runners. Some of them really get me going.” She tilted the glasses down and winked.
“Your tough luck then that us old farts come out here and take up a lot of the veiw. Hope we don’t spoil it too much. How’d your play go?” He pulled a bandana out of his cut off’s and wiped sweat off of his neck and face. He noticed Cherisse run her tongue around the inside of her heavy upper lip.
“The one you didn’t come to?” She pinched his upper arm playfully. Her hand ran along his arm.
“Sorry, work.” He stared at the dewy moistness over that lip. Okay, here it was, on a platter. “Let me make it up to you. Why don’t you come on by later? I’ll fix us a little dinner and you can tell me all about the play. Then maybe we can hit a club or something?”
“Or something?” Her lips pursed in a half smile half pout. She acted as if she had to think about it a minute. “Okay. You decide on dinner and I’ll think of ‘or something’” She skated backward. “Seven?”
“Sounds good.” Zack slipp
ed across to the southbound running lane. He’d have time to wash the sheets and shove some boxes in the closet. He could run by the Jewel on his way back. Some steaks, salad, a bottle of wine. He could haul that on the run. He’d get that exotic beauty out from under his skin once and for all.
Mo waited in line to get on flight 3746 to Montreal. She was looking forward to spending a few quiet days at her place. She’d take some nice long walks and play with her new but little used camera. Some of the other performers who lived in Montreal were in line as well. Others went to the various cities or towns they were from, a few even braving traveling overseas for the brief respite they’d been given. They’d been lucky to get tickets at such short notice. The company, under pressure from Roddy, had sprung for them to the joy of the performers. Now they waited to board and looked forward to a few days off from their grueling schedules.
“So Trollie, what are you going to do with your time?” Mo asked the diminutive clown as she shifted her White Sox ball cap.
“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe we can get together and do something.” Trollie’s made up face smiled a gap toothed smile up at her. His eyes were always rimmed with red. It always left her with an eerie feeling. She had never seen his face. He had always been friendly enough and funny with a biting irony that worked in the show but could leave some people ill at ease. The rumor was he had been a psychiatrist who had some kind of legal problem. No one asked. No one knew for sure. No one even knew his name except presumably the company, who wrote the checks.
“I see enough of you guys, day in day out. I need time to myself. No offense.” She kept this in a light tone despite feeling uncomfortable at his almost leering red gaze. “I’m going to sleep for days.”
“Who are you sleeping with now? One of the new security guys or all of them? Finished up with that badge I guess. Sent him packing and now you’ve got two on you to make sure the pretty star of the show has all her needs met. And the company pays for it no less. You’ve got a whole team to keep you happy.” He maintained the same smile on his face but somehow the red around his eyes seemed to glow with malevolence. He didn’t bat an eye as she shook herself out of a paralyzing astonishment.
“Trollie, I can’t believe you just said…what an awful thing…nothing between me and Zack…I don’t know how you could…” she stumbled back. One of her body guards rose from the seat where he waited with a paper.
“Ms. Whitman, you okay?”
“Oh, fine. I…I’m fine, Mr. Hagman. Excuse me, the ladies…” Mo turned and hurried off.
“Maybe she’s going to be sick,” offered Trollie. “Maybe she’s afraid of flying.”
Mo splashed water on her face in the airport bathroom then looked at herself as she yanked a paper towel from the dispenser. Was this the common talk in the company? Had this just been Trollie lashing out because he felt she had rejected him? To bring Zack into it! She had not been able to get him off of her mind since she’d stared emptily at the door after he had packed his bag and left with a very professional and remote goodbye. Thank you for everything. Have a nice life. This was pretty much what she’d given him right back. She’d never see him again and she felt sicker about it as the day progressed. She’d thought about calling him just to smooth things over so they didn’t part on such bad terms. What was the point? He’d chosen to leave. She hadn’t asked him to. Well, she hadn’t wanted him to leave before he’d made the decision first. He didn’t want to hear from her. He was apparently relieved to be getting back to his life. She’d wished him luck but had not even shaken his hand.
And now Trollie saying such horrible things. Little toad! He had no idea what she was feeling about Zack. How dare he? She should have slapped his face instead of slinking off to stick her head in the toilet. She blew her nose. He’s not the problem though he’ll be dealt with at the end of their hiatus if not sooner.
Mo threw her backpack on her shoulder and pulled the ball cap down low. She looked toward the gate and saw her bodyguards chatting. The line had started moving onto the plane and they’d begin looking for her in moments. She’d call them on her way. She walked quickly and jumped on the moving walkway and kept her stride long as she brushed past people and waited sporadically for slowpokes to move aside. She made her way past the security station. As she jogged down an escalator an announcement came over the loud speaker calling for Monica Whitman to board her flight. She found her way to the taxi queue. It took a few minutes for her turn and luckily she only had the small backpack so she hopped in the cab and called out to the driver. “You go downtown?”
“Ms. Lady, you pay I go where you want to go.” He smiled and reached for the meter. His white turban almost touched the roof of the car. He spoke some sort of Asian language into his radio. “It eighty dollars for downtown.” He turned slightly and took a quick measure of the woman in a sweatshirt and ball cap.
“Fine. 1493 South Indiana. I’ll make it worth your while. Can I roll the window down?”
Curtis was fed up with hiding out. He was thinking he needed to make a plan. The cops had been on Rosalie’s like flies on shit and his girlfriend Shatika had blown him off. She didn’t want a cop killer at her door. What about the babies? What if the cops came in with bullets flying? He knew Jamal had done some talking but had not been able to get to him. How much did they know if anything about Bull? The mother had taken over everything and now he’d found himself on the run. The attic of the abandoned warehouse where he was hiding out was hot. Bull had rented the warehouse short term for his business expansion. Guess Bull figured comfort wasn’t an issue. Damn why hadn’t the cop come and helped him get out of town! He curled his lip in disgust. Even the damned rats waddled like it was too hot to move. He couldn’t wait for dark. He’d pull his hood up and get outside. He should have saved some money instead of blowing it all on Shatika. Not that he minded her spending lots of money for the babies.
He had to get some money. He had to go to a part of town where they wouldn’t blow him away as soon as he glanced at the register. He had to stay away from Rosalie’s neighborhood that was for sure. Too many people knew him around south MLK drive, Shatika’s hood. The stores all had bulletproof glass in high class Hyde Park. He needed to head north where there were more people to blend into. Oh Hell, why wait for dark? He eyed his sunglasses. He was too hungry to wait for dark. Maybe he could lift a wallet from one of the museum goers and be on a Lake Shore Drive express bus headed south before they ever noticed it was gone. His hair had grown out since he’d last shaved his head. He had a few weeks growth on his face. He eyed the sacks piled in a corner that seemed to have deteriorated and had spilled out a whitish powder. He thought it was cement or something similar. He went over and dipped his hand in it and gave it a sniff. It had a moldy smell to it but it was worth trying. He rubbed some in his short curly hair and picked up a jagged piece of glass and wiped it with an old shirt he’d found. Was he really doing this? Why hadn’t he just gotten out of Chicago? Shatika.
He tried to get a look at himself in the glass standing by the broken window. It was hard to tell but his hair seemed to reflect more gray than black. He wiped his hands off onto his beard. He donned his sunglasses and stealthily made his way down to the back of the warehouse where he’d propped the plywood over the window he’d kicked out. He’d managed to get in and out a few times unseen. Several days before there had been a close call when some potential buyers had shown up. Fortunately the broken elevator and the missing steps had kept them from taking their tour to the top floor.
A scraggly looking cat grabbed a rat and bit down gazing dangerously at Curtis. “Hisss, cat. I don’t want your stinking rat.” The alley stank of trash. He turned up Cottage Grove and fingering the last change in his pocket stopped at the corner to wait for a bus.
He sat down next to a lady who smelled like his grandmother. Cheap perfume over cleaning product. She held a paper grocery bag on her lap that was filled to almost overflowing. You had to load up when you had to travel miles
on a bus to get groceries. Supermarkets were few and far between on the southeast side. Bet she’d be cookin’ up a good Sunday dinner when she got home. He imagined himself at his grandma’s table when he was a kid and big Sunday dinners around her kitchen table were taken for granted. His stomach growled as he thought of her pork roast with candied sweet potatoes. All he ever wanted to do was provide the kind of home she had provided for him. Like Russell’s dad had provided for Russell. When grandma died his mother put the proceeds from the sale of her house into a crack pipe. Then she was peddling it on MLK and he spent his time trying to find a place to stay warm.
He discovered a talent for survival. Agile fingers filled his stomach. Soon he was running drugs. Home delivery from your local drug store. He was a small timer and the money was small time. Sometimes Russell let him in the basement at night in the wintertime. Straight arrow Russell. Thought he just pushed weed. Then the take got bigger when he got collared by Ray, a cop dissatisfied with the life a cop’s salary provided. Ray had ideas. Curtis fit right into those ideas. Pretty soon the money was rolling in. Ray simply didn’t show up in court and their partnership had begun. Ray had somehow gotten Curtis’ arrest record to go away. The cop sure had them all fooled. Even his partner. Hell, a whole neighborhood idealized him. But when he met Rosalie Ray got desperate. More drugs, bigger money, giving Bull Shaughnessy a bigger bite of the action. Ray had known Bull had serious gambling debts. And Ray wanted to keep Rosalie in style. Shoulda known they’d each start thinking about who was getting the biggest slice of the pie.
Meanwhile Russell, the pride of rigid old Al Simpson, “Chicago’s most decorated cop” had joined the army sighting patriotism and an interest in engineering. Russell had gotten the bait and switch from the army. He wound up in a firefight in Faluja and had half his face burned off. It was his sense of gratitude to Russell that led Curtis to give him that first shot. Just to comfort him. He never thought of Russell as someone who would get strung out. Old Al slapped Russ in rehab a few times before he got too careless with his dosage and was found in Jackson Park against a tree. They found him sitting there with his head leaned back as if he were listening to the waves break against the concrete barrier. Lucky for Curtis, Russell’s father had no suspicions about him. He had barely even seen him before. Curtis operated mostly outside of Simpson’s precinct. The big cop was retiring and going for the big money in Greendale. Takin’ Russell the hell out of the city. He was a little too late.
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