Authors: Frances Randon
She looked up at him
fearfully. “Simpson is your name.” She pushed at the photos splayed on the
coffee table, “I never heard of him.” She got up and lit a cigarette. Her hands
shook. He knew. He knew! Russell had died overdosing on smack that had been
sold to him by one of Ray’s lackies. Maybe Lyons himself. Rosalie Villareal
looked at him with animosity born of terror. She’d known right away that he
would not be susceptible to her wiles. The big man looked like he could snap
her in two. She needed to talk to Bull. She wasn’t going to do time. She’d had
nothing to do with the Simpson guy’s death. Ray had shrugged it off. Russell
Simpson’s dad was no longer CPD and he was just another dead junkie, he’d
laughed. He didn’t OD the guy. Russell should’ve been more careful.
“Look, I loved Ray. His
business not nothing to do with me.” She inhaled resentfully.
“What about Bull? Did he move
in after Ray or was he in it all along?” Al kept his calm but he knew he would
kill whoever had been the cause of Russell’s death. Since he couldn’t kill
Russell.
“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 slipped 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.