A Dangerous Dance

by Pauline Baird Jones

  She could feel the bile of bitterness surge through her, temporarily over powering the emotional sliming by Smith. Had anything in her past been real? Even if her mother had had affairs, surely she would never have gone willingly into that man's arms.

  “Are you all right? Did he upset you?” Remy moved to give her partial cover from the crowd. He seemed both worried and a bit surprised. “That's just his shtick, you know. He likes to imply he knows things.”

  “And does he know things?”

  Remy shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes not.” His worried look deepened. “What do you think he knows?”

  “That's the problem. I don't know much of anything.” She bit her lip. “Did you hear what he said about my mother?”

  “Sure. From what I hear, everyone found your mother interesting. She was a beautiful, high spirited woman. If she wasn't in the society pages, it was because she was out of town.” Remy tipped his head to one side. “You didn't know?”

  “How could I? The mother I knew was worn out from trying to put food on the table, then dying of cancer. There was nothing beautiful or high spirited about her. She was incredibly ordinary. She was gray and worn. She waited tables and harped on my manners. And told me we were lucky to have little money.” She shook her head. “It's like we're talking about two different people.”

  “Well, parents are never really real to their kids, are they?”

  He didn't say she was over-reacting and for that she was grateful. Maybe she was, but it didn't feel like it. She tried to smile.

  “I guess not.” Maybe this life had so damaged her mother that she'd fled it and vowed to reject it? Dorothy wouldn't know, because she'd never talked about the past. If Bozo and Smith played large roles in that past, maybe she had good reason to leave it all behind. Maybe she hadn't wanted Dorothy to know all this? She gave herself a mental shake. There was no way to know now what her mother had wanted or felt. And Remy was right. She was in no position to judge her parents with any clarity.

  “Are you sure you're all right?” Remy took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  She felt the crackle of the paper Barnes had slipped into her hand. Smith had driven it completely out of her mind. Someone approached Remy, giving her a chance to unfold the sheet and read the brief note.

  "Monkey house. Midnight. Come alone."

  Dorothy crumpled the paper again. Why did people who wrote notes, always say that? Come alone. She looked at her map and found the monkey house on it. It wasn't too far off the beaten path, but still...

  She looked at her watch. She had five minutes to decide what to do. Her first impulse was to ask Remy to go with her, but he was a reporter. Barnes wasn't likely to talk in front of him. And Titus? Yeah, his manner encouraged confidences.

  She wasn't without resources. Titus had taught her some defensive moves. And she had a small, personal pistol in her sassy, little hand bag that he'd made sure she knew how to use.

  “I'd like you to meet Dorothy,” she heard Remy say.

  She looked up and smiled at the people he was introducing her to, without hearing their names or what they said. She wasn't even sure what she said, though it must have been all right. They smiled and nodded. After a moment, they found the KPRX sponsored booth along the row.

  She looked at her watch again. She'd lost two minutes to indecisiveness. Maybe it was hubris to believe she could handle the situation and it could come back to bite her on the ass, but it was her ass, after all. In the end, she was the one with the most to gain or lose.

  She leaned close to Remy. “I'm going to check out those charming facilities in the rear.”

  Remy chuckled and nodded, then turned back to his conversation. She noticed that Titus started to follow her, but stopped when he realized she was heading for the “charming facilities” courtesy of Port-O-Let. To give guests of the booth another layer of privacy, the bright blue cubicle was draped in a small, canvas cubical in the corner. She slipped between the flaps and out of sight of both men. It only took her a minute to untie the flaps at the corner and slip out of the enclosure. According to her program, the monkey house was back in the direction they'd just come.

  As she walked swiftly along the path, she knew she could still turn back. Titus was freakishly concerned about her safety, but the truth was, she hadn't even been threatened until today. Even if her suspects wanted to launch a plot against her, they hadn't had time to plan it, unless Barnes was in on it. It was always possible, but it didn't make a lot of sense. His client was dead. Now he had information to sell. Barnes had good reason to know how dangerous a spot of blackmail could be, so she was the logical choice. If he knew something, she needed to hear it. Having suspects was all good and well, but she needed some real, solid leads.

  She reached the turn off for the monkey house and paused to look around. The crowd appeared unaware of Dorothy's existence, as far as it was possible for her to tell. There was a street-type barricade blocking the path, but it was easy to slip around it. It only took a few steps before she found herself in deep, dense darkness.

  She had to stop and let her pupils catch up. Since she wasn't a cat it only helped a little. As her eyes strained to pierce the darkness, her other senses switched to heightened awareness to help out. The noise of the party still shut out the small sounds, but now she could smell animals mixed with the other smells from the do, drifting in the night air. Not being able to hear was almost worse than not hearing anything. It increased her sense of isolation. She almost turned back. If she hadn't remembered a small flashlight attached to her keys, she would have. There was no way she could go anywhere without some light. She dug around in her small purse and pulled out the light. Not much, but the tiny, yellow circle was better than nothing.

  * * * *

  Remy chatted with the station boss and a sponsor while they waited for the bartender to get to their drinks when Titus tapped on his shoulder. He excused himself and stepped to the side. This had better be good.

  “What?”

  “Where's Dorothy?” Titus looked tense.

  “She went to powder her nose.” He nodded toward the facilities in the rear.

  “Two women have gone in there and come out. Did something happen to upset her?” He glared at Remy. His attitude not the typical body guard-client approved one.

  “Not that I know.” Remy looked around, but couldn't see her anywhere in the enclosure or near by. It was odd enough to make him uneasy. Had something happened he hadn't noticed? “Barnes.”

  He'd thought it odd for the man to approach Dorothy. What if they'd agreed to meet somewhere tonight? He cursed silently. As soon as she mentioned the money, he knew it was a bad idea. Informants would be coming out of the woodwork after it and no guarantee they had any info of value.

  “Okay, maybe. Would...”

  But Titus was already gone, sprinting through the crowds, indifferent to the spectacle he was making or the attention he was attracting. Remy shook his head before turning in the opposite direction. If he wanted to meet someone here, where would he suggest? He went about five steps and then turned around. He wouldn't direct them deeper in the zoo, he realized, but pick some place near the entrance and easy to find, but away from the party. If she got in trouble, no one would be able to hear her above the din. What was she thinking?

  When walking wasn't fast enough, he started to run, too.

  * * * *

  Luckily the path was smooth and the further Dorothy got from the lights of the party, the more the quarter moon and the stars were able to help out. At the entrance to the monkey house, she hesitated. The thick, acrid odor of animal feces reached out toward her. Inside the dark entrance, one of the animals chattered its disapproval.

  Out here, the party was a distant din. With the blare of the music and all the chatter, no one would hear her if she cried out. This would be a great place to commit murder, she'd thought earlier. She didn't like being right. Away from the crowds, the softer night sounds seemed magnified. Th
e underbrush seemed filled with rustles of who knew what. Not too far away she heard something snarling. It was a jungle, but a caged jungle, she reminded herself. She pulled the small pistol from her purse and made the necessary adjustments for defense. She kept it down at her side, hidden by the folds of her slip dress.

  “Mr. Barnes?” she called.

  “I wasn't sure you'd come,” he said, stepping clear of the shadowy entrance. In the fragmented light, he looked like a puffed out penguin in his tuxedo. His bald head was shiny with sweat, making it shimmer.

  “I wasn't sure either.” She kept her voice cool and her distance. She was younger and would have no hesitation shedding her shoes and using some of her moves if he made a wrong move. “I'm hoping it's worth the distress I'm causing my date and my bodyguard.”

  He started to step closer and she stepped back. “That's close enough. This place is a little too private for my taste.”

  He looked startled, then rueful. “I never thought of that. I just didn't want us to be seen.”

  “By whom?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “You said you offered Vance a million bucks to talk.”

  “That's right.”

  “He never paid me, you know. He always promised he would, that the money would be coming when he got out.”

  “From whoever hired him to kill my father,” Dorothy pointed out. Were all defense attorneys this sensitive?

  He shifted. “I did my job. I deserved to get paid.”

  His client might disagree, but he wasn't her concern. “If you have information, I'm willing to pay for it. Who hired him to kill my father?”

  “I told you, he never told me, but I think he may have told someone.”

  There was a sound, like a twig cracking in the darkness behind them. He jumped.

  “What was that?”

  Dorothy looked back, but the dark night was unrelenting. “Probably a peacock or something. Don't they wander around?” Dorothy sighed impatiently. “Who did he tell?”

  “He left a letter for me to give...”

  There was a sound not unlike a cough or maybe a soft pop. Then a red hole appeared between his eyes, followed by a gush of blood across his face. He looked startled and then his eyes went blank. He fell forward. It was instinct to try to catch him, but he was quite literally a dead weight. She jumped back just in time. As he fell at her feet, she heard another pop and thought she felt the rush of air by her cheek. She dropped to a crouch and lifted the pistol, pointing in the general direction the shots had come from.

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  * * *

  SIX

  * * * *

  “I'm armed!” Dorothy's senses were on full alert, straining to see, hear, or smell the assailant. The semi-silence was indifferent and impenetrable. She longed to hide in the bushes along the side of the path, while at the same time, wanted to do anything but that. She'd never been wild about bugs, which seemed silly to be thinking about at the moment, but strangely logical, too. She felt like a light beacon against the path. Now she wished she'd worn the little black dress. Hadn't her mother always told her, a little black dress can't be beat?

  The lack of reaction from the assailant emboldened her enough to reach down and feel Barnes’ neck for a pulse. There was none and his skin was already losing its human warmth. Gradually, the various sounds in the night sorted themselves into categories. Party sounds far away, animal ones not far enough and the stealthy ones of something large moving away from her. She swung the gun that direction, but couldn't pull the trigger. What if it was an animal? Or an innocent bystander? She couldn't fire blindly into the dark.

  Now she heard footsteps, approaching fast. She eased back toward the bushes, not yet in them, but trying to be of them until she knew if this was foe, not friend. Out of the darkness, she saw the round beam of a flashlight cutting into the night.

  She hesitated before calling out, “Who's there?”

  “Dorothy?” Titus sounded as frantic as he could sound. “Are you all right?”

  The footsteps sped up, the beam dancing around until it found Barnes lying on the path in a pool of his own blood. Titus uttered one, short and sharp cuss word, then the beam shone on her, almost blinding her.

  She shielded her eyes. “I'm fine. Did you see anyone on the path?”

  Titus helped her upright. “Should I have?”

  “It would have been helpful.” She avoided looking at Barnes as she stowed her pistol.

  “You didn't use it.” It was more statement than question.

  “I never saw which direction the shots came from.”

  More footsteps, running this time. Dorothy's insides curled into a ball of tension, but relaxed a bit when she saw Remy come round the bend in the path.

  “I'm guessing you didn't see anyone either.” Dorothy felt cold. Shock, most likely. She tried to control the shudders, but couldn't.

  Titus shoved the flashlight at Remy and pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  “This was a stupid thing to do, going off like that.”

  Dorothy wanted to answer, but her teeth were chattering too much.

  “Go get help,” Remy directed Titus. He stepped forward, pulling her into his warm embrace. Dorothy leaned her head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him. I'll be strong later.

  Titus started to object, but stopped when Dorothy lifted her head from Remy's shoulder. “Please?”

  He nodded and stalked off.

  “What happened?” Remy asked.

  Dorothy told him, using as few sentences as possible.

  “Why didn't you have me come with you? I thought we were partners?” He sounded angry and worried, but his arms tightened around her and that's all that mattered.

  “He said to come alone,” she murmured into his shoulder.

  “And do you always do what you're told?” He eased her back just enough so he could look into her eyes. Rueful humor softened the frustration in his eyes.

  Dorothy managed a shaky, half smile and shook her head. As she looked at him something replaced both frustration and humor. It was warm and hot and it arced to her, pushing out the remainder of the cold that shook her body. Her body soften against his and her lips parted in anticipation. He was going to kiss her. Her mind knew it. Her mouth knew it. All of her wanted it.

  His head started to bend, but she heard the sound of the approach of reinforcements. Dorothy sighed. Titus had terrible timing. Though Remy didn't let her go, she felt the distance grow between them. He wanted to be a reporter, not a lover right now. She pulled away from him, noticed a bench and said, “I'd like to sit down.”

  Remy probably didn't realize how relieved he looked. She smiled to herself as cold stole through her again, already missing the warmth of his body. Memory tried to push its way back to center front, but she shoved it away. She'd deal with what had happened later.

  * * * *

  Remy watched Dorothy across the clearing as it filled with crime scene techs and cops. No one liked murder and they especially didn't like murder at wealthy charity events. Money must be coddled to keep it flowing. Titus stood behind her, his body language screaming to them all to keep their distance. Remy tapped the shoulder of the nearest cop and asked, “Can I take Miss Merlinn home? She's had quite a shock.”

  The cop looked across at her. He nodded. “Just tell her to be available for questions tomorrow.”

  “She will cooperate fully,” Remy assured them. And she would. He was supposed to be the target, not her. If she'd kept her mouth shut about the money, he'd still be the target. Is that why she'd done it? Or was she just stubborn? Probably a little of both, he decided. And she'd seemed like such a nice, quiet girl ten years ago.

  “We can leave, but you'll have to be available for questioning tomorrow. I told them you'd cooperate,” Remy told them.

  Her smile was a bit wan, but brave. “Of course.”

  He took her hands and pulled her upright. She started to hand Titus his ja
cket back, but Remy shook his head.

  “I'm not cold anymore”

  “There's blood on your dress.” He didn't mention there was also some on her face.

  “Great.” She managed a wan smile and she looked exhausted, but unbroken. He wondered where her strength came from. She was much tougher than he'd realized. Perhaps she would surprise her enemies, too.

  Titus stepped around him, getting between him and Dorothy. “There's another way out,” he said, starting to steer her forward.

  Remy stepped in front of him, staring at him for a long, hard moment. Titus bristled and looked at Dorothy, but she seemed unaware of either of them, her gaze distant and rather sad.

  Titus retreated. Good thing looks didn't kill. Remy tucked Dorothy's arm through his as they followed Titus down a path that lead away from the festivities.

  As they made their way back to the SUV, he remembered that moment before Titus interrupted them and the soft, pliant feel of her body against his. He'd been about to kiss her and she hadn't seemed opposed to the idea. His body wanted to finish what they'd started, but Titus walked behind them. While kissing her might satisfy a lot of urges, it was not the smart play. They didn't want the same things. It wasn't fair to her and it could become a snare for him. Maybe if she'd wanted to be first lady—but she didn't. She'd made that clear. He'd just have to remember their game needed to be played in public only. Now if he could just convince the rest of his body that his mind was right.

  * * * *

  Bozo Luc stood to one side, smoking a cigarette as what remained of Clinton Barnes was wheeled past, zipped into a body bag. He dropped the butt on the ground and ground it out with the heel of his custom-made, leather shoes. As the last of the smoke filtered out his nose, he headed for the exit, where a cop stood guard, taking down the names of everyone leaving.

  When he saw Bozo, he straightened and looked like he might be about to salute, but caught himself. “Sir.”

  Bozo nodded at the man as he passed, noting that the cop wrote down his name. Well, the formalities must be observed. In Louisiana, it was about the look of things, not the substance or the reality. If they did come question him, it would be for advice, of course. If it amused him, he might give some. The Lucs were always generous with advice.