Black Adagio

by Potocki, Wendy

  Melissa winced. She hadn’t even considered that as a possibility for the timing.

  “I was about to yell at you, but I think you may be right. My Dad sure has a thing for ladies who can hold a bottle between their front teeth.” Looking around the cafeteria, she scanned the faces of the handful of dancers still left at Velofsky’s. “Where’s Kurt? I haven’t seen him this morning and wanted to find out about that non-rendezvous he had with Zoe.”

  “Yeah, me, too, but we’ll have to wait until February.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause he left this morning.”

  “But I thought he was leaving tomorrow?”

  “Change of plans. Justin invited him to his home for a few days. Kurt took him up on the offer and headed home to trade in wintry togs with tropical gear. He’ll meet up with him in a couple of days. I suspect those two are going to have a good old time hanging out on the beaches in Boca Raton.”

  “Crap! I’m sorry I missed him,” Melissa replied, sopping up her waffle with a thick dose of maple syrup. The melted butter oozed altering the color to honey golden. “Would have loved to have heard what Zoe wanted—if she got away from Justin, that is. Don’t suppose you asked?”

  “Wasn’t time. So when are you talking to Una?”

  “In a few minutes. Asked Tracey …”

  “Who’s Tracey?”

  “Oh, you are so dense,” Melissa said, disdain dripping from her tone. “She’s the girl that works in the office. The one that schedules the classes and puts the announcements on the bulletin board and ... Never mind!” she said halting the lecture. “Anyway, Tracey penciled me in for a chat at around 11.”

  “Good luck. I don’t like the idea of you staying here all alone. I could ask my parents if I can bring you home. I don’t think they’d mind.”

  “You’re sweet, but I doubt they’d like a strange girl in their house around holiday time. I can just see me sprawled out on the floor in one of my stretches and your mom and dad tripping over me.”

  Collette giggled. “That would make the invite all the more worthwhile. Especially if they were carrying egg nog in a punch bowl or something.”

  “You are so not nice,” Melissa chuckled.

  “Well, I gotta go and pack, sweetie,” she said getting up and giving Melissa a peck on her cheek. “Don’t let him bite,” she said indicating Alexei. Sitting at a nearby table, he was engaged in nursing a cup of coffee. “Although I doubt he’d do that now. I hear you’re his favorite,” she teased.

  Scrunching up her face, Missy stuck her tongue out at her departing friend. Alone at the table, she pushed her empty plate away, gazing out the window at the woods. Curious as to what was happening, federal agents were milling about.

  “Excuse me,” came the deep, heavily accented voice. “May I?”

  Alexei’s request caught her by surprise. Staring into his ruggedly handsome face, she wasn’t sure she wanted him next to her. Not only because it might seem inappropriate, it had more to do with him being intimidating. Teachers and choreographers usually were.

  “Sure,” she squeaked, doubting the wisdom of her decision.

  Smiling, he seated himself across from her. Relaxing back in the chair, he looped his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. A move reserved for those that were supremely confident, he fell into that category.

  “Thank you. I don’t normally sit with my students, but you’re not that anymore. You’re my lead dancer,” he extolled through a sly grin.

  The compliment greased the wheels, easing her discomfort.

  “Thank you, but I definitely am still learning.”

  He studied her face, absorbing the fullness of her answer. A calculating expression on his features, it was used in contemplation.

  “Dance is important to you?”

  “It’s my whole life,” she avowed, meaning every word.

  “You scare me sometimes,” he remarked, not showing any fluctuation in emotion despite the wild claim.

  “Scare you? How?”

  “Excuse, please,” he answered, placing an apologetic hand over his chest in a display of sincerity. “As you can tell, English is not my first language. Perhaps I meant ‘worry.’ I should have said that you worry me. Is that better?”

  “Much.” Untensing, her shoulders slumped forward. “But why?”

  “You distance yourself from life. This morning for instance. I see you sitting with your friend, but you’re not there. Do you care about others, Melissa? I don’t mean that in a callous way. I just mean, do you really involve yourself in their lives?”

  She’d never been asked a question like that before. Not sure what to make of it, it wasn’t deserving of a smart remark or careless response.

  “Yes,” she responded. “Of course, I do.”

  Placing his forearms on the table, he slid towards her, his blue eyes honing in on her psyche.

  “And do you let them involve themselves in yours?”

  His stalwart gaze pierced her veneer. He was searching for what made her tick and she’d be forthcoming this time.

  “I want to dance,” she answered, her dark eyes burning fiercely. “And I will do anything to make that happen.”

  Tilting his head, he blinked slowly, his mouth turning downward.

  “Young people,” he remarked, laughing softly. “They have no idea what they are saying.”

  “I do,” she affirmed.

  “‘Anything’ includes so many things,” he explained, spreading his arms to encompass more space. “Things that you have no knowledge of. And yet, you’re willing to do all of them so you can dance?”

  “Yes.”

  Her one word answer saturated the air. Rubbing the side of his mouth dismissively, he shook his head knowingly.

  “We will see,” he concluded, banging his hands down on the surface of the table. “In the meantime, you can use that little studio of yours again. I’ve made sure it’s safe. It was fortuitous I saw you. It assured me that you were serious about honing your craft. And don’t worry,” he continued, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper, “your secret is safe with me.” With a slow wink, he stood patting her hand. Ambling out of the room, Melissa watched the easy gait that could only be made by a dancer.

  “Ew, did he really touch you?”

  The obnoxious voice could only belong to Zoe. Melissa turned, confirming the horror was true.

  “Oh, dear God, why can’t you leave me alone?” she cried, exasperated.

  Zoe ignored the strident plea.

  “He’s old! It’s creepy that he touched you! And that other day, when he danced with you, it was painful. He should be in a nursing home, not in a studio. I can’t believe Una would even think of letting him dance.”

  Melissa started collecting her empty dishes.

  “Look, he’s not that old. And it’s not a surprise. He’s a great dancer,” she responded, clearing the table as fast as humanly possible.

  “Not old? He looks like my grandfather or something!” she screeched, as if viewing a rodent crawling up her leg.

  She was such a stupid, vapid girl. A diva with nothing to back it up except good looks, she imagined it was enough. Attributing the nasty comments to Zoe being resentful about Alexei not giving her the lead, she was in for a rude awakening when she reached her 30’s. She bet Zoe wouldn’t think it was all that old when she arrived at that ripe old age.

  “You’re such a jerk,” snapped Melissa, so sick of Zoe’s shit. “Where’s your little sycophant? Find another loser to date?”

  “Sycophant? Where do you get these words?”

  “I read. You might try it unless you want to remain ignorant for the rest of your life.”

  “You know, Melissa, I’ve tried and tried to be friends with you and …”

  “And you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Justin is packing. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank God!” Melissa extolled, ill wishes inherent in her venomous tone. She stood, tray in h
and. “Now get out of my way.”

  It felt good to order Zoe around. Not surrounded by sympathizers, her false bravado crumpled. Bolting to the side to avoid being caught in the ribs like any other mortal being, it was one of the most satisfying moments Melissa experienced at Velofsky’s. Almost as satisfying as losing herself in that adagio.

  Glancing at the clock, there were only a few moments to kill before her meeting with Una. Feeling compelled to get in some stretching, she sprinted up the stairs to help work off her unusually heavy breakfast. Entering her room, she was drawn to the window. The agents still out there, they were combing the forest, but for what? The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. They were still searching for clues as to what happened to Larabee. They were in the same proximity of where she’d found his stupid jacket.

  Feeling like such a complete ditz for not figuring it out sooner, she lowered herself to the ground. Executing her daily warm-up, she’d been doing the routine since a small child. A combination of Pilates, yoga, proprioceptive stretches, it even included a floor barre to improve turnout and strengthen her core.

  Quickly going through her routine, she kept an eye on the clock. Just about finished, she reached forward, her chest touching the floor. Her legs spread out in a saddle stretch, she walked forward with her hands. Feeling her hips open, she laid her head on the back of her hands, relaxing into the position. The tension dissipating, she was overthinking things. Letting words and other people get to her and divert her from her path, but nothing would stop her. Nothing. Not snide comments, idiot diva girls who thought they were competition, strenuous schedules, or even a complex choreographer Using positive mantras, her goal solidified in her mind. To anyone who thought she wasn’t capable of achieving her dream, she had one thing to say — watch me.

  Feeling better, she got up, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. A serene confidence crowning her, she’d need it to get her through the difficult conversation. Scooting down the stairs with keys dangling in her hand, she ran through what she wanted to say.

  Racing across the lawn to the annex, she took off her coat, scampering up the stairs. Una was seated behind her desk. Her surrogate mother to her side, even though both were visible, Melissa decided to knock. Doing so lightly, Una looked up, treating her to one of her famous smiles.

  “Come in, Melissa. Please have a seat,” she encouraged, pointing to the chair in front of her desk.

  She did, giving a faint smile to both women.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but something has come up that’s changed my plans. I won’t be able to leave the school until December 23.”

  Una’s smooth forehead wrinkled with concern. Tsking softly, she shook her head.

  “I see. So you have nowhere to go until then? Not a relative … or good friend?”

  “No, there’s no one,” Melissa answered, tears spontaneously clouding her black eyes. She hadn’t meant for her mood to shift this way. Remembering her reflection, where had that girl gone to? Did it really only take this little to break her?

  “Oh, I am so sorry!” Una apologized, running around her desk and putting her hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to upset you, darling. And I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this. Not in front of you. You’ve given me everything in letting me come here. And here I am causing all this trouble and …” she broke down, sobbing heavily. It was all coming out. She’d been hiding things all her life, but couldn’t do it anymore. She just wanted everything fixed.

  “Here,” Una said, grabbing a tissue from the box on her desk. “Never feel badly about coming to me with problems. We all have problems. And people that say they don’t have are more likely to have the most.”

  Dragging a chair over, she sat close to Melissa, giving her a moment to compose herself.

  “I don’t like that you’re staying here, but if you must, you must. The only thing I insist is that you stay in the annex with us. My grandmother and I will be here, and so will Viktor. Everyone else will be gone, but we will be enough so that you won’t be alone.” Giving her a bolstering grin, the sudden jarring sound of the phone made the trio of women jump.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, answering it. “Yes, Tracey. Who is downstairs? Are you sure? No, no! Do not let them go anywhere until I speak to them!” she ordered, hanging up the receiver. Giving Anna a stern look before approaching Melissa, her face softened. “Darling, I have to go downstairs on an urgent matter. You stay here with my grandmother. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered shakily.

  Swirling, she swept out as if exiting the stage.

  Anna came over as soon as she left, taking the vacated spot.

  “It’s good you will be staying with us because I was wrong,” she pronounced solemnly.

  “Wrong? Wrong about what?” Melissa asked uncertainly.

  “About him,” she spat disgustedly.

  The door had been left wide open. Allowing a clear view into the hall, there was Viktor, standing on the other side and acting as if he were waiting for a bus.

  “He doesn’t remind me of Pushka,” she continued. “He was only pretending to be—the way he pretends now.” Confirming Viktor as the source of the trouble, she continued. “Look, at him. He is listening to us. Stay away from him. He is evil … I can feel it.”

  From outside came a stampede of footsteps up the stairs. Viktor nodded at the cadre of individuals passing by. The woman whose name she’d forgotten led in the group. Ace Cummings, the young FBI agent she’d met the other day, pushed ahead of her. His large frame descended upon her.

  “Ms. Solange? We’d like you to come with us, please.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  “But I didn’t call him!” Melissa insisted. Already denying it several times, she didn’t know what else she could say. To them, she was chum floating in the water.

  “Really? Then could you tell us why it is he would say that you did?” Angela pressed, playing tag team with Cummings.

  “I have no idea!” Her brain stopped spinning for a moment, allowing her a moment of clarity. “Wait! He only spoke to me once. How could he be sure it was me?”

  Ace smiled. Without a visual ID, she would have had a point, but they kept that knowledge up their sleeve.

  “What time did you get home?” Ace asked, taking over while Angie relocated to a chair opposite Melissa. Scrutinizing the delicate young girl, it seemed so ridiculous to consider her a suspect. Her stellar good looks and quiet demeanor would seem to knock her out of consideration, but Scott had seen her. After leaving the diner, he’d called with a few last minute instructions. Ace had been on the phone with him when Cummings had seen Melissa waiting at the perimeter of the woods—in the same spot where Larabee’s coat had been found. Angie stared into those dark eyes, wondering if a smoldering pool of evil were behind the veneer of sheer innocence.

  “I did not call, and you can check my phone if you want!” she blurted.

  “We already know that you used Larabee’s.”

  They’d found that out this morning. Rushing into action when Scott hadn’t shown up for work, the situation ratcheted up when he didn’t respond to numerous calls. Agents were immediately dispatched to his hotel room, and the site where he’d last been known to be. Finding his car parked at Velofsky’s, Larabee’s cell was found next to his jacket—the 10:36 PM call registered on it. The triangulation put the source to be in the area of the dance academy.

  “Do you understand how much trouble you’re in? This is a Federal agent that’s missing!”

  “You think I could have done something to him? How? With what? And why would I do something so stupid?” Growing more hysterical, she was angry that her denials were being dismissed.

  “That’s what we were hoping you’d tell us,” Angela retorted. Rising, she knelt down until she was at eye level. “We know you couldn’t have done this alone. It’s your accomplice we want. If you can just give u
s his name …”

  Melissa shook her head, trying to loosen the accusations wrapping her in a cocoon. “I did not have an accomplice because I didn’t do anything! I never called him! Never!”

  “Then why would he say you did?”

  “I already told you! It was probably someone that sounded like me!”

  “And the visual ID?” Ace queried, not giving up the tug of war.

  “Visual? He said he saw me?”

  “Yes, near the woods, in the place you found that coat.”

  “I don’t understand! I don’t! Wait! It was dark! Lots of people could look like me from a distance!”

  “How do you know it was from a distance?”

  “It had to be because it wasn’t me! If he thought I called, and then saw someone about my size, wouldn’t he just assume it was me?”

  Yes, he would. Ace and Angela knew that already. The problem was that Melissa was their only lead. Laurie was in jail. She could have easily been a contender for impersonating Melissa. Also young and slender, with a winter coat and hood covering her, who would know the difference?

  Ace leaned back, taking her sweatshirt from an evidence bag.

  “You want to tell us how this got into Tina’s dance bag?”

  “But, how … " she started, her voice and heart failing.

  Oh, Christ! It had come back to haunt her. She didn’t know how, but they’d traced it to her.

  Angela straightened, slowly circuiting the room as she spoke.

  “Christine’s mother said it didn’t belong to her daughter so we showed it to a few people here. Guess what? They said it was yours.”

  “Who? Who said that?”

  “Zoe Ryan.”

  “That figures!” she snorted.

  “And Collette Bradley.”

  Fuck! Collette had stabbed her in the back again. Of course, she couldn’t have known, but she did it all the same. Why couldn’t she have said she didn’t know? Why? People just didn’t think.

  “And so what? You could have just asked me. I was looking all over for it.”

  “Are you saying Christine stole it?”

  “No!” Melissa declared. “I’m saying I lent it to her. It was after class, and she said she was cold, and I just gave it to her to wear. I didn’t even remember until now.”