Fly With Fire by Frances Randon Page B

mayor’s office another update, Zack
had gone back to the presidential suite with key in hand for the locked
bedroom.
    “Tyler wants me to keep an
eye on you, and this is the best way. Just an oversight with the key. Nothing
mysterious. I can hang in here and you can go about your business knowing I’m
within earshot. So why don’t you go get the chill off? Hot bath will do you
good.” He inspected the other bedroom. “Hey, I even have my own bathroom! Take
all the time you need.” He chuckled. “Sorry. I know you’re not in a joking mood
exactly.”
    “It’s alright, Detect…Zack. I
don’t know right now if this is all a nightmare or one big joke. I’m not
laughing so I hope I wake up.” She hugged herself in the thick bathrobe. “Mind
if I turn the air conditioning down? I think I will take that bath.”
    Zack thought she looked tiny
in the big, fluffy robe. Odd how people could look so different according to
place and situation. Her apparent vulnerability was incongruous with the
strong, fiery goddess she had portrayed such a short time ago. Her makeup free
face was almost childlike, with its dash of freckles and pale cream complexion.
If she had not been a stranger he would have just followed his impulse and put
his arms around her. Just to comfort her, of course. “Here, I’ve turned it
down. If you get too warm, just give a shout.” He watched her pad off to the
bathroom.
    Zack lay on his bed with the
copy of the Chicago Sun Times he’d picked up in the lobby. A copy had been
delivered to the room early in the morning but he felt it was presumptuous to
look at her unread paper. ‘Feds Take Deeper Look into Mayor’s Building Union
Connections’.  The headline made Zack sigh. Tyler always seemed to be the
focus of one corruption investigation or another. Some he figured were
unjustified. Others? Well he knew how things went. Endemic corruption had
always been a feature of Chicago politics. Who the hell knew how to vote when
there was no lesser of two evils? He looked at his cracked door, listened, then
continued reading. His mind wandered to Ray. How had Ray managed to get shot by
a two bit punk with his own gun? He knew some were looking at him as somehow
being responsible. Wasn’t he quick enough? Why’d they separate? He’d been asked
these and other questions a thousand times. Was Ray dirty? Now, that was the
one that got his goat. It was out of his hands now. They’d decide what they’d
decide and surely they’d conclude Ray and he weren’t dirty. In the meantime
this wasn’t bad. At least he didn’t have to be around Tyler every day. Still,
it was odd how they’d bumped him to that tour. A choice tour. Guess they ran
out of desks to put cops under investigation behind. Just look at the paper.
Small wonder.
    He glanced at the door again
and against his will thought about Ms. Whitman, Mo, in the bath. He felt an
involuntary throb of desire and tried to tamp down the sensation, but he
couldn’t help thinking of going into the bathroom and what? Offer to wash her
back? He chuckled. Yeah. Fat chance, Zack. Good one. Still, he thought of her,
and applied a thick layer of bubbles to the tub in his thoughts, like cops back
in the day might drape a jacket over a nude victim. It was the decent thing to
do. Of course, they don’t do that these days. Might disturb evidence.
    She was so beautiful in her
odd way. Part oriental maybe? The hair, the eyes. God, those eyes, intelligent
and vulnerable. But they’d lost the humor he’d seen in them the first night.
Her skin. Now pale instead of creamy. That little pink mouth, full lipped, so
ripe looking like a freshly blossomed flower, or juicy fresh fruit. Now it had
a strained tightness to it. He caught himself as his mind began to wander
further. He felt so badly for her. He knew what it was for a friend to die
tragically. Got to stay professional. He sighed again and as he let out his
breathe heard a shriek from the bathroom.
    Gun in hand he