Fly With Fire (19 page)

“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 life 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…”