Death of a Chorus Girl (The Delacroix Series Book 1) (27 page)

“Sweet Em, is that you out there?”  His rich, liquid tone confirms that Fitz can’t see us.  He only hears our approach.

I bring a finger to my lips, telling Tom to be quiet.  “I’m here, Fitz,” I answer as we approach the steps of the stage.  “What exactly is wrong with the theatre?”

Fitz chuckles and walks towards the stairs where he expects me to appear.  The jolly laughter dies when he spots Tom.  “What is he doing here?” Fitz maliciously spits.  “I called you.”

A vicious rage erupts from the depths of my soul and I fire back, “
You
called me about a problem for
our
,” I circle my arm to include the three of us, “collective show!  So I called my partner to see what he knew!  Funny story, he knew nothing!  This is not how I do business, Fitz!  Tom and I are the producers, you are just an investor!  From now on, we will run this show with
all
of us staying squarely in our roles! 
You
don’t get to call me anymore about problems with the theatre, the unions, the contracts,
anything!
  Is that understood?!”

“Empathy, sweet, you misunderstand.”  Fitz has reined in his anger.

“If you are about to try and tell me that you didn’t concoct a problem with the show as an excuse to lure me to an intimate dinner with you, I suggest you swallow your words.  I’m not that stupid. 
You
are
married
.” I elongate the word.  “I am seeing someone.  Plus, I have absolutely
no
interest in you, whatsoever!”  I storm off the stage, done with this farce, and through the house.  Tom is hot on my heels until I hear Fitz’s stern voice call his name.  There is no need to wait for Tom.  He is completely capable of taking care of himself.  I immediately hail a cab when I hit the pavement outside of the Foxwoods.  I need to go somewhere to think.

Richard Giordano: 57
th
Precinct

“You know I only left about an hour ago,” I say as I walk into the captain’s office.  “What’s so urgent?”

The captain looks up from his desk and motions for me to shut the door.  I am beginning to dread these conversations of late.  Nothing good ever comes from them.  “We need to talk about Empathy,” he states gravely.

“What about her?” I ask as I steel myself for whatever is about to come.

The captain scrubs at his face and takes a long, deep breath before starting.  “It’s come to our attention that your ex-partner has probably been following her.” 
What?!
  Every muscle in my body tenses as my stomach lurches.  Why would Steve be following her?  “The cell signals of all our major players have been tracked the past couple of weeks.  Worthy, Fitzwallace, Steve, her,
you
.” 
Me?!
  The captain lets that confession hang in the air a bit before continuing.  “This is more than the chorus girl’s death; more than Steve’s disloyalty.  Apparently, Fitzwallace has been under investigation by the Feds for years.  They caught wind of his link in Annie’s case and pulled our case file then started tracking your phones.  What I can’t figure out is how they heard about your girlfriend being our CI.”

“Em told Bobby.  She assumed he already knew because you told her the paperwork would be filed with the DA’s office.”  I spend the next few minutes filling the captain in on the rest of the story.

His eyes are wide with shock and irritation by the time I finish.  “Okay.  In the future, she can’t tell anyone else she’s a CI in order to cover for the fact you still have sibling rivalry issues.  See a shrink or tell your family.”

“She knows.” 
I know.
  “Why do we think Steve’s following Em?”

“Because the signals put them in the same places at the same times more than sheer coincidence.  More and more it’s looking like Steve is a mole for Fitzwallace.  Now it seems Em is the target of whatever he’s focusing on since being suspended.  What we can’t figure out is if it’s of his own designs or Fitzwallace’s.  Where is she now?”

“Why?”  I swallow hard.

“Her cell signal disappeared right when you walked in here.”  The captain pauses, which means there’s more.  “So did Steve’s.”

God damn it!
  I jump out of my seat and race to the door.  “Why wasn’t that the first thing you said?!”

Empathy Delacroix: The Need to Cool Off

I pop my iPod into the speakers in the dance room.  I went home and changed into my dancing clothes after leaving the debacle at the Foxwoods.  If I don’t work off my anger and nerves I won’t be able to have the conversation with Richard that we need to have this evening.  I should have a couple of hours for myself since he was called in for a case.

Richard Giordano: Em’s Apartment

Pick up!
  I have been calling her since I stormed out of the captain’s office.  If Steve is following her, she can’t be alone.  I didn’t immediately panic because I thought she was with Worthy, but when she didn’t answer her phone I called his.  Needless to say, I freaked when he informed me of what transpired at the theater.  Em is now alone and unaware that Steve is possibly wherever she is and I have no way to find her because she isn’t
answering her damn phone
!

I drive to her apartment, holding out hope that she is there.  Walter calls out to me right when I toss my keys to the valet.  “You just missed Ms. Delacroix, sir.”

Can I catch just one break?
  “How long ago did she leave?  Do you know where she went?” I ask Walter after hollering to get my keys back.

“About twenty minutes ago, and no sir, I don’t know where she went,” he informs me with a frown.

“Did you notice anything or anyone strange?  Was there a car following her at all?”  An alarmed and perplexed expression overtakes his face but unfortunately, he has no other information.

I jump back in the charger and drive.  I have never been one to just sit still at home and wait.  Inspiration strikes finally and my fingers fly over the keypad of my phone as I round the corner to head to Em’s office.  Thankfully, she picks up immediately.  “Sabene, it’s Rich.  Do you know where Em is?”

“I haven’t talked to her in the last couple of days.  Why?”  She obviously notices my anxiety because her tone is wary when she answers.

I wrestle with how much to tell her but settle on the truth because no one knows Em better than Sabene.  I just pray she can give me a place to start.

“You two talk recently?” she asks once I fill her in on what is going on.

“We were supposed to tonight,” I tell her.  “Why?”

“Because this time of year is especially hard for her, Rich.  Her parent’s died ten years ago today.” 
What?!  Why didn’t she tell me?
  “When Em is upset she tends to shut herself away from people.  With little family, it’s just what she’s used to doing.  If you two haven’t talked yet, and that bastard pulled that kind of a stunt with her, she’s probably at Julliard dancing.”

Finally, a break!  I pin all my hopes on it.  “Where specifically, Sabene?”

Empathy Delacroix: Everybody Hurts

R.E.M.’s
Everybody Hurts
sounds through the speakers at the exact moment I am ready to call it quits.  All of my overwhelming emotions from the last week or so come crashing down.  I always think more about my parents this time of year.  Their dying just before the holidays sucks away all the joy I used to find in them.  Sabene and her family have always included me since the day we met.  But for the first time in ten years, I had hoped to spend them with a family I am longing to one day call my own.  That hope died the moment I learned Richard hadn’t told his family about me and I have no expectations he will spring me on them anytime soon.

The music and lyrics sweep through my body and mind, lulling the sorrow.  My feet mark the steps and move me through the space.  I close my eyes as I lift my arms as if there is someone there to dance with.  The desire is so great I can almost feel the imaginary man’s touch.

Strips of fabric used for aerial dancing fill the practice room.  They flutter when I spin around or past them.  My arms send them swinging as they brush along the draping folds.  It isn’t long before not a single column hangs limply.

The melody picks up tempo and so do my steps.  I move with reckless abandon, sweeping my arms and legs around my body.  My hands grab one of the hanging curtains, giving my phantom partner some form of permanence.  I pick up my feet, without thinking, and let him swing me through the space, twirling through the air.

I stumble when I land, partly from momentum and partly because my vision hazes, but manage to stay upright.  It isn’t from being lightheaded or dizzy.  No, unfortunately this is a vision.

The only color that remains the same is the white from the sheets of fabric.  The foreign eyes I gaze through see a woman stumble.  My heart aches at seeing her in pain.  I move to approach her but crumble to the ground instead.  Something struck me in the head, hard.  Stars immediately pop into my eyes but that’s not what gives me the death chill.  No, that happens when I hear a pop, watch her fall to the ground, and feel an instant piercing pain in my heart.

Richard Giordano: Julliard

Music meets me in the hallway and I know Em is here.  Relief rains over me as I pick up the pace.  I see her just as I hit the door.  I want to run into the room and sweep her into my arms but I don’t.  Her grief gracefully expressed in dance roots me in place.  Her hair is loose and flies around her.  Her tights and leotard accentuate the soft lines of her body.  She is beautiful, mesmerizing, and safe.  There isn’t a trace of Steve.

I give Em what she needs, space.  I quietly watch her, relishing the way her moves speak directly to my heart.  She is my girl.  She always has been.  I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t inform my family about our relationship for selfish reasons.  But until now, I never realized how my narcissism affected her.  How did I not grasp that I am now her family?  That my family is hers also.  That even if her parents hadn’t died this time of year it is lonely for her.

My heart shutters a beat when she is suddenly floating through the air and I straighten up.  I relax into the doorframe and cross my arms over my chest when I realize she is clinging to one of the curtains.  She stumbles when her feet encounter the floor but since she is still holding onto the curtain she remains upright.  Then she staggers a step.  I pull my weight from the doorframe and move to approach her when I am pistol whipped from behind.

I don’t need to see Steve to know it is him.  I was so caught up in Em that I missed his approach.  Even now, my eyes are glued to her as she sways behind the stars popping in my sight.  The gun fires behind me.  The curtains shutter when the bullet pierces them and she crumbles to the ground.  My heart leaps into my throat before my chest has a chance to constrict around it.

“You son of a bitch.  If you hurt her…”  I struggle to get back to my feet.

Steve hits me again, sending me back to my knees.  “Shut up you moron,” he growls.  “Got tied up in a toity skirt and now you think you are one.”  I frantically search for a way to keep Em safe.  I’m the better shot but my gun is on my hip.  The glance I steal over my shoulder doesn’t put my mind at ease.  Steve already has his gun trained on her still frame.  The only thing that keeps me sane is the fact there doesn’t appear to be any blood pouring from her body.  She is either stunned by an injury, which isn’t life threatening, or he missed.  Either way, she is still in danger and my actions are the only thing keeping her alive.

“I fell in love with one once,” Steve confesses.  “Ruined my life.  Someday you’ll thank me for this, Dick.  Someday you’ll understand.  They suck you in, then suck you dry.”  This has to be about Annie.  Grief and sorrow drip from his voice.  Part of me actually feels sorry for the guy.  Then I catch sight of the gun still aimed at my own “toity skirt” and the emotion immediately vanishes.

I plant my palms on the floor, shift my weight to one leg, and kick out with the other.  My heel connects with Steve’s hip and tips him backward.  I waste no time and take off in her direction.  My vision blurs from standing too quickly and when it clears, Em isn’t laying on the ground anymore.  I spare a second to search for her, which I shouldn’t have.  Steve fires again and this time the bullet grazes my side.  I press my hand to it as I stumble forward.  His fist plows into my jaw when I turn to face him and knocks me flat on my ass.

“Dick, I know it doesn’t seem like it now but I’m protecting you.  That whore is going to break your heart and ruin your career.  It happened to me.” 
What the hell is he talking about?
  “I don’t want to kill you, it’s why I gave you a flesh wound, but I will if you don’t stop interfering.  The only way this ends well for you is if you let me take care of her.  I didn’t get the chance with Annie but that doesn’t have to be your future.”

I never truly considered that he could have killed Annie, until now.  There wasn’t time between her death and when we left the precinct.  Being a mole doesn’t make him a murderer but it is starting to sound like he was somehow involved.  That maybe he had
something
done to her. 
He
could have paid someone to do it.