Death of a Chorus Girl (The Delacroix Series Book 1) (14 page)

“Like I said yesterday, they’re not all bad.  I’ve been privy to some of human nature’s greatest triumphs born from love, devotion, faith.  I can’t avoid it all and I don’t want to live my life in a cage.  Life is about taking the bad with the good.  If I were only afraid of one image, I would enter Lower Manhattan and get it over with.  However, hundreds accost me the few times I’ve tried.  I can’t physically handle them all.  After having lived in the city for ten years, anywhere else my routines are pretty much down which means most days there are no incidents.  A little forethought and planning allow me to avoid most of the unpleasant visions. I pay close attention to the crime news and live my life.”

“How come none of your dancers mentioned you collapsing before you released them for the break?” he asks.  “If you died Annie’s death surely they would have noticed.”

“It’s not always the same,” I explain.  “What we went through yesterday was purposeful.  Just because someone died, just because they were murdered, isn’t a guarantee I’ll experience it.  I purposely had you pick premeditated and violent crimes, hoping we would get a result.  If we just wandered the city and nothing happened, you wouldn’t have believed me.  Annie’s death, while excruciating, didn’t leave me battered and broken.  I stumbled when I came out of it and immediately released the dancers.  I was one of the first to leave so none of them noticed.  Those that did I brushed off by telling them I didn’t feel well.”

His fingers graze under my chin, lifting it to bring my focus to him.  Those sea blue eyes put me at ease while they search my face and he leans in.  My body thrums in anticipation of his kiss, but he stops just shy of my lips.  “You’re an incredible woman, Empathy.”  His whisper caresses me as if it is a tangible embrace.  “If it were me, I would have gone insane and hid from the world.”

I match his tone. “At some point something good has to come from all of this.”

All I hear before the scenery shifts is my name. 
Good Lord, does it have to be now?
  I don’t fight it; it never works anyway and the few times I have tried only seem to make the vision last longer.  A scream greets me as I sink into the gray world.

At first, I didn’t realize it came from me.  I am running through the trees towards Belvedere Castle scared out of my mind.  There are fast falling footsteps behind me. 
You have to keep running!
  I spare a glance over my shoulder but don’t readily see anyone, which is why I miss the low hanging branch that clotheslines me.  My head hits the ground hard and I’m pretty sure I hit a rock.  Dizzy and dazed, I struggle to get back on my feet.  I finally find them, at least enough to stumble forward, when a hand grips my arm and swings me into the nearest tree.  There is no fade out.  The world just goes black.

Richard Giordano: Central Park

Her name slips past my lips as I brush them against hers while closing my eyes.  Her lack of response leaves me concerned. 
What are you thinking?  You told her you are willing to be her friend.  You told yourself you would give her what she needs.  Yet, all day you’ve pushed for what you want!

I drop my head and apologize, but there is no answer.  A curse falls from my tongue after I look up to find out why.  The damned clouds of her vision fill her eyes and her body is stiff.  This one is different, maybe one of those elusive good ones?  Not as concerned for Em’s safety, since we are already sitting and she isn’t trembling, I wait patiently for her to return to me.  Unfortunately, it isn’t long before her breathing hitches and quickens.  “Em?  Hey, come back to me.”  She responds to the sound of my voice by snapping her head to the right.  She sways before I can say more and blinks, then sucks in the air as she inhales.  “I’m right here.  What happened?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” she confesses.  “I think the person passed out before it was ove-”

The words die at the sound of a scream.  She springs to her feet and searches the line of trees surrounding us.  Then she runs a short distance to a particular tree with a low hanging branch.  I am instantly behind her.  I take her by the shoulders, spin her around, and bend my knees until we are eye-level.

“What’s going—”  Then I hear them, footsteps.  Their beat is rapid.  A woman bursts into the clearing, looking over her shoulder.  The branch knocks her off her feet.  In the blink of an eye, Em is by her side, pressing the scarf she’d been wearing to back of the woman’s head as she anxiously searches the woods.  Only seconds pass before we hear another set of running footfalls heralding the man who joins us.

He descends on the women, without sparing a look in my direction, and throws Em backward into a tree.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of her head bouncing off the trunk.  “You bitch!  We’re not done.”  The woman Em helped has regained her feet and is scrambling to get away.  I find mine and put myself between them before he gets to her.  It is among one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made but the man isn’t focused on Em and she appears alert when I glance at her.

“Whoa there, buddy.  You may want to step back,” I warn with a flash of my badge.

“Fuck off!  This has nothing to do with you!”  He shoves me in the chest hard enough that I run into the woman behind me, knocking her to the ground.  The force might have thrown me down as well had I been a smaller man.  Em scurries around us and is back kneeling beside the woman.

You don’t have to be a cop to know this guy is drunk as a skunk, and now he’s eyeing both women.  Normally, it is no big deal but all I have on me is my badge; no gun, no handcuffs.  The best option is to talk him down.  “I hate to break it to you but being that I’m here, it does have something to do with me.”  Not taking my eyes off the rabid animal foaming at the mouth in front of me, I ask over my shoulder, “Ma’am, was this guy hurting you?”

Em’s voice pipes up.  “He knocked her out, Richard.”

“No, he didn’t,” the woman answers in a frail voice.  “He wasn’t hurting me, officer.  I’m afraid you misunderstood.” 
Shit.  Em’s vision.  It was of this.

I hate this is the part of my job the most.  The smug jerk looks at me as if waiting for an apology.  He knows the drill.  Their lies are well rehearsed by now.  Well, he isn’t going to get one.  I back up towards the women and spare a glance over my shoulder at them.  The fading bruises on her exposed flesh confirm that he beats her.  Yet, I can’t do anything if she refuses to admit to it.  I kneel beside them. “Ma’am, are you sure?  I can keep you safe.”

“Of course, I’m sure.  There’s nothing to be kept safe from,” she lies with wary eyes locked on the drunkard.

“You’re bleeding, though,” Em interjects.  One look tells me she is not going to take it well when we have to walk away.

“I fell,” the woman sticks to her guns.

“Because he was chasing you,” Em expels in frustration.

“It was a misunderstanding, an accident,” the woman covers.

“He threw me into a tree,” Em accuses with her chin up, looking me dead in the eyes.

“Of course, I did!” the drunkard hollers.  “You were hovering over my wife while her head was bleeding.  How do I know that
you
didn’t hurt
her
?  Are you going to do something about that,
officer
?”

The man backs down when I stand.  “It’s time to go,” I announce with a heavy heart.  If we walk away from this, it won’t turn into a game of he said/she said between the man and Em.  The disappointed astonishment I predicted overtaking her concerned features assaults my heart. 
I swear, Em, I want to take this jerk into custody
.  But my priority is Em’s safety.  My eyes plead with her as I put my hand out.

She turns back to the woman, and the man chooses that moment to slither around me.  I’m not fast enough to keep him from yanking Em to her feet.  “You heard your man.  Time to go.”  Only because it means she is out of harm’s way, I am thankful when he thrusts her into my arms.  He snatches Em’s scarf out of the woman’s hands and throws it to the ground before wrenching her to her feet to drag her way.

Em struggles to get out of my arms, but I can’t let her go.  She’ll just run after them, which will only get her hurt.  “Let go!  Why didn’t you
do
something?”

I trap her against my body and my lips find her ear.  “I can’t.  If she’s going to insist he’s not hurting her, I can’t do anything.”

“He knocked her out!”

“That’s what you saw but it’s not what happened.  Our presence kept it from happening.  I believe you, Em, but I can’t arrest him for assault based on your vision alone.  If she’s not going to accuse him of it, my hands are tied.”

She stops trying to break free, which is almost worse than when she was because when she speaks, her pained voice breaks my heart.  “He’s going to hurt her again. What good is it to see and alter the future if it doesn’t have a long-term effect?  Why am I being given these opportunities if I can’t do anything with them?”

They are rhetorical questions and she crumbles in my arms at my silence.  “Please, let go.  I’m not going to go after them.”  I abide by her request with a heavy heart and attempt to take her hand.  She pulls it out of reach.  “Not now.  Walk me home?”  She keeps her eyes glued to the grassy carpet of the park with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.  I say her name, but that is as far as I get.  “I get it, Richard, I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”  We make our way out of the park and away from these wretched woods, leaving her bloody scarf as the only evidence to what she stopped from occurring.

Empathy Delacroix: The Opening

“T
eddy’s catching a ride with Rich,” Sabene calls from my bedroom.

I place the last jeweled pin in my hair and answer back, “I figured as much.”

Sabene’s image flashes in the mirror.  What I would give for her exotic features.  The cobalt blue, strapless dress accentuates every single one of her voluptuous curves and stops just above her knees.  I will never wear anything like it; I’d be too embarrassed to show that much leg, especially when coupled with the snug fit.  But on her, it looks amazing.  Sven may not remain the bed warmer much longer.  Her make-up is stunning, yet classy, with a smoky eye, rosy cheeks, and a nude lip.  She completes the look with simple, blown out hair.

“It wouldn’t kill you to wear a brighter color from time to time,” she charges.  It is a regular debate we have while shopping and getting ready for these functions because I prefer dark colors, especially black.  A little, black dress has never led anyone astray.  This one is a fitted, sleeveless, straight dress that brushes my knees with a sweetheart neckline.  There is a lace overlay with short sleeves.  My hair is up in an intricate, Greek style braid with jeweled pins holding it together.  The only other jewelry I wear is my mother’s black pearl, drop earrings.  My make-up is more subdued than Sabene’s with darker eyeliner, not a smoky eye, and plums on my cheeks and lips.  “What time are we meeting them downstairs?”

I casually watch her in the mirror. “I told Walter to send them up.”  Her reaction is more than I could have hoped for.  The allowance of Richard into the inner sanctum shocks her so much that she falls off her four-inch heels, and surprising manages not to twist her ankle.  I don’t even attempt to hide my grin.

She recovers from her stumble and approaches the counter, leaning against it and folding her arms across her chest.  “I thought we didn’t allow men into the apartment on the first date?”

I shrug her off. “It’s not a date.  We’re friends…”

“Bullshit!  You might have yourself convinced of that but ‘we’re friends’ is an outright lie.  You’ve seen him every day since the park.  What does that man have to do before you drop the white thong and surrender to him?” 
Seriously, does it always have to be about sex?
  She presses me when I ignore her comment.  “Then how come Tom hasn’t been granted access?  He’s your
friend
.”

I sit on the bench to slip on my heels.  “Because Tom is my friend who wouldn’t hesitate to climb into my bed naked.”

“You think Rich won’t?  He’s got the better shot of you following suit!” 
Damn it!
I admit to myself that is true, but I don’t have to voice it to her.  “You know, Em, Teddy and I can go to your show and cover for you until intermission.  Give the detective time to thoroughly catalog all of your guilty pleasures.”  My cheeks betray me by blushing at her stupid comment.

In an effort to remind her we were now adults and not naughty children, I say, “Ha, ha, ha.  You’ve had your fun, but I expect the innuendos to cease now.  None of this in Richard’s presence, understood?”  The elevator bell rings, announcing our guests.  She salutes then races from the room to greet them.  I am unable to follow her because I still have a buckle left on my shoe.

It is quite the surprise when Richard calls my name from my bedroom.  “Em?  Sabene said you asked for me to meet you in here.”

Damn her to hell!  Tell her to stop with the subversive tactics and she goes full frontal!
  Irritated, I slam my foot down and march into my bedroom, only to have my senses accosted by him.  In his black suit, white shirt, and purple tie, he looks absolutely delicious.  That earthy aroma fills my bedroom, leaving me seriously considering taking Sabene up on her offer to cover for me during the first half of my show.

Men have looked at me with appreciation before, but the way Richard’s eyes slide from my head to my toes and back again makes me feel alluring for the first time in my life.  That electricity only we can create when our desires are perfectly aligned fires off between us.  I give into mine and saunter over to him.  My palms find his chest and run along the lapels of his jacket, over his shoulders, and around his neck.  “I take it you’re not upset with me anymore?” he asks in a husky voice.

“Why was I upset with you?” I respond on an exhale, not immediately recalling his reference.

His decadent lips are mere millimeters from my own, but he holds them out of reach.  My eyes leave his lips to meet his gaze and see the internal war waged underneath.  Does he remind me of something that might kill this moment or does he not?  The standup guy wins out.  “The other day in the park.  You were upset with me.”

Silly man.
  To start, I brush my lips gently against his.  “I wasn’t upset with you, Richard, just the situation,” I admit against them.  He hasn’t moved since I wrapped my arms around him.  The proximity allows me to observe the tension in his neck; see the way he clenches his jaw and feel his taut muscles under my fingertips.  I count his heartbeat in the tremor of the pulsing vein along his throat.

I nuzzle into him and press my lips to his.  My tongue meets his lips and his whole body tenses, but his lips don’t part.  I focus squarely on the carnal longing oozing from his.  So his lack of reciprocation baffles me.  “Kiss me?” I beg.

His hands find my waist but he doesn’t draw me closer.  Instead, he gently pushes me away.  I drop my gaze so he won’t see my disappointment.  It is my own fault.  How long do I really expect him to put up with what probably amounts to teasing?

His fingers caress my neck until they weave around my jaw to tilt my head back.  “Look at me,” Richard orders softly.  I continue to stare at the floor, mad at myself for doing this to him.  The grip on my jaw strengthens, not painfully so, as he maneuvers my head to where I can only avoid his eyes if I close mine.  “Tell me tonight is a date and I’m yours to command at will.  But if we are still at the stage of feeling the other out, I have to request you don’t kiss me anymore.  It’s too confusing for me, Em.  I
want
to be your boyfriend, but this push and pull over the razor’s edge is too risky a proposition for me.  Call me friend or call me lover, but treat me as such, no more, no less.  Please, tell me you understand.”

He doesn’t sound upset.  The request to solidify the lines is a fair one.  So why are tears threatening to spill from my eyes?  The sinking sadness attempts to sweep me away and my voice would have exposed my despair.  I make for the bathroom to dab the tears away before he notices them.  His hand on my wrist stops me.  “Ask me to kiss you again.  Tell me I’m your guy.”

I twist my arm free and give the only answer I have.  “Not yet, but soon.”

Richard Giordano: The Four Seasons

My fingers brush my cufflinks as I tug on my sleeves.  They are a loan from Em, her father’s.  The show is over and I find myself in a state of panic.  Any minute now, she’s going to ask me what I thought and expose as a poser.  That part of the last two and a half hours was a blur.  I remembered people laughing and applauding.  I only knew it was over when everyone stood.  There are no other solid details in my mind.

But ask me anything about sitting next to her?  I can speak about it for days.  The warmth of her hand in mine.  The floral smell that captivated me when she rested her head on my arm.  The number of beats my heart skipped when she pulled our hands into her lap.  The bolt of lightning that traveled from my calf up my spine when her foot grazed against it by accident.

A hand rests on my lower back and I don’t have to see her to know it’s hers.  We are at the after party for the cast, critics, investors, and whomever else has enough clout to attend.  Sabene and Frisco are off somewhere flirting shamelessly.  At least, that’s what they told me when they abandoned me the second we crossed the threshold of the ballroom at the Four Season.  Em’s smirk and arched eyebrow greet me after I turn to face her. 
Here comes the question
.  “Exactly how little of my show did you pay attention to?”

I blink in surprise, unable to stop the wide-eyed expression from overtaking my face.  “That obvious, huh?” I confess sheepishly.

I hear Em inhale to say something more, but her voice doesn’t fill my ears.  “Em?  Who is that you’re conspiring with?” 
God damn Worthy and his timing!

She sinks back on her heels and offers me an apologetic frown.  I take her hand as I show him my face.  To say Worthy is surprised would be an understatement.  He actually retreats a step as his horrified eyes fluctuate between her and I.  He recovers quickly and that oily voice welcomes me with thinly veiled civility.  Then his hungry eyes land on her and openly devour her in front of me.  Jealousy bubbles in the pit of my stomach, regardless of her assurances that he is not her type.

Any other man would probably have been detoured by her response.  She pats his cheek while holding my hand and shakes her head.  “That’s enough of that, Tom,” she playfully scolds him.  “Richard was curious about our show.  I saw no harm in bringing him tonight as my
date
.  I was short one anyway.”

Date?  Did I miss something?

My whirling mind almost distracts me enough to miss Worthy’s retort.  “Had I known that, I would have loved to have filled that role.  There was no need for you to farm it out to an understudy.”  I’m pretty sure I have just been insulted.  He steps forward and offers her his elbow.  “We never did have that talk about what happened at the Gala.”  It is a ballsy move and a cheap shot since she just confirmed I’m her date.  What he doesn’t know is that he interrupted
my
interlude with her that night.  Instinctually, my arm tugs, pulling her out of his reach.  He glares at me but talks to her. “I much prefer seeing you huddled with the lovely Sabene.  Where is she tonight?”

Em curls into my side, making it clear whose arm she prefers to be on this evening, and nods towards the bar.  In a last ditch effort to steal her away from me, Worthy says, “Surely you won’t mind if I steal her for a moment, detective.”  He reaches out a hand to take her arm, but I grab his wrist before he touches her.  He tenses and the lines of his jaw instantly grow more angular.

He stuffs his fists in his pockets after brushing my hand away. 
Good move, Worthy
.  Through the whole incident, Em hasn’t strayed an inch from my side.  He looks directly at her with evident frustration. “I need you to work. 
Our
other show has garnered notice due to the suggestions
you
made.  Based on tonight’s success,
he’s
asking for you specifically.  Since you missed all the appointments I set with Trevor last week, he won’t invest until you confirm your involvement,
personally
.  Exactly what did happen to you last week?”

Her body sags against me and I glance down to observe her visible annoyance.  “Where is he?” she snaps.

Worthy points to the bar.  “Seems he found Sabene and some other woman.”  Okay, so when the way Worthy talks about a man makes me suspicious of him, he has to be bad.  And currently that man is ogling my inebriated best friend.

“Give me a minute.  I just need a drink first.”  Em reaches out and snatches a glass of champagne off one of the many trays that are floating around, downing it in one swallow.  Worthy offers her his hand and she sets the glass in it.  “Lead the way.  We’re coming.”

“
We’re
?” he expels right as I think the exact same thing.

“Of course.  Richard is my date and not only is it rude to abandon him, but you and I both know that
all
of the women will escape him relatively unscathed with both of you there.  The woman he’s trying to convince to accompany him upstairs is our friend.”  She motions between herself and me.  “That is the last place I’ll see her end up.  Where’s the wife?”

Well, this just keeps getting better!
  “Out of town,” Worthy answers.

“Fantastic!”  She seizes another glass of champagne and motions for him to get moving.  “Is there ever going to be a day when we don’t need his money?”

Worthy wrings his hands. “I’m working on it.  I know you hate him and I owe you every time for putting up with what you do.”  Then he focuses his attention squarely on me.  “What you pulled with me just now will kill Em’s career if you do it with him.  Neither one of us would be afforded the ability to do what we do without his funding.  Since she’s insistent on you meeting our top investor, you better remember your place.”  He stalks off without another word.

What the hell was that about?
  Before I can ask Em, she sighs and speaks so fast and so low that I can hardly keep up.  “He’s right.  Like it or not, we need this guy.  Not only does he drop a ton of money into our shows but he’s also the top contributor to the program we run in the local schools,
including
Joe’s.  Please just trust that I know what I’m about and what I’m doing.”  She takes off towards the bar and there is no time to question and no choice but to follow.

Empathy Delacroix: Charles Fitzwallace

Charles Fitzwallace is a trust fund brat who quadrupled his fortune during the dot-com boom, housing boom, and then the banking crisis.  There is no way he can actually spend it all in his lifetime. 
None
.  That kind of money affords him the ability to dabble in anything and everything that seizes his interests.  Broadway, sports teams, movies, small business ventures, technology,
anything
.  If it’s happening in New York, Fitz is somehow involved.  Which partly explains his appeal to most circles.  The other half is explained by his looks.  The striking California features—thick blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and tall, muscular build—make most women drop their panties before ever hearing about the money.  Being able to charm or buy everyone leaves him with little need for social graces.