“After sitting here and listening for the last couple of hours, the facts in evidence are that Mr. Harrington was in the room, close to Mr. Weaver, and wasn’t shot. Yes?”
“Well, yes, but he—”
“After Mr. Weaver went down, Mr. Harrington didn’t move for several moments. Didn’t, in fact, move until Ms. Karimi yelled for him.”
“Yes, but—”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I have a black-ops sniper there now, taking a look at all the factors in both locations, and when he’s done, he and the Deputy Director he’s with are going to the morgue to examine Mr. Weaver’s body.”
“You can’t—”
“I can,” I lied, because I was overstepping at the moment, and Ian and his friend and my acquaintance George Hunt were out on a limb with me. If Brewster went over my head to my boss, and then to his, I was screwed.
Brewster was seething, it was easy to see on his face, but he obviously had no idea about the things I could put my nose in and those I could not.
“And in the short term at CBC,” Tildham broke in, “our plan is to bring on quite a bit more security so that their presence is felt.”
It took a second for that to sink in.
“I’m sorry, what?” Ms. Karimi snapped, the first one to process.
“Whoever we have to hire,” Mr. Tildham told her. “We will not be held hostage by some lunatic fan trying to exert their dominance over Mr. Harrington. We refuse.”
I had no idea when “lunatic fan” had become a thing, and glanced over at the detectives, who both looked as concerned as I was. We might not have agreed on what had occurred or on Cel being in danger or not, but we had clear solidarity between us on the fact that “lunatic fan” was not a hypothesis being considered.
“This was not a crazy fan,” Ms. Karimi insisted. “This was a professional. A member of our company was murdered. Of course we’re canceling everything until this threat is—”
“Absolutely not,” he replied, scowling at her. “I spoke to Delon, who met with the board, and he’s made his, and their, stance crystal clear. Nothing at CBC changes based on this threat. We will not be intimidated.”
“Meaning what?” Oakes asked him. “That tomorrow morning everyone is back in that practice room?”
“Yes,” Tildham assured him. “We’re bringing in grief counselors along with the security team, to address all areas of this tragedy.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I asked him, trying to keep my voice level, the surge of anger tasting like bile in my throat. Not that it mattered to me where Cel was concerned because he certainly wouldn’t be there. But the others, the company was potentially putting them in danger for what purpose? “This is more than atragedy. One of your dancers was murdered today.”
“We’re well aware,” Tildham snapped at me. “But art will not be held captive by violence and threats.”
“Plus it’s fantastic publicity,” Cel conceded with a scoff. “I mean, come on. Senan dying is going to sell the shit out of tickets.”
“That’s not why we’re planning to go ahead with the performance,” Tildham explained, glaring at Cel. “We’re doing it tohonorMr. Weaver.”
“Oh, of course you are,” Cel agreed sarcastically.
“This is all Palmer’s fault,” Ms. Karimi blurted out. “Ever since we announced the premise forSwan Lake Deconstructed, the hate mail has been staggering.”
“Yes, that’s true. There are a lot of purists out there,” Tildham agreed as Cel started pacing again in front of the two-way mirror. “And now he’s changed it again.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice could cut glass, and she was staring daggers at Tildham.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Cel sounded as pained as she did. “Lincoln’s current vision is of the prince not only choosing between good and evil, but also—”
“What does this have to do with your dancer being murdered today?” Brewster asked them.
“There are purists who take thisveryseriously,” Ms. Karimi explained. “And everyone assumed that both Senan and Cel would be dancing leads in the production.”
“But we’re talking about a ballet,” Brewster stressed to her. “I find it hard to believe that anyone would seriously think that killing Senan Weaver would—”
“It’s true,” Cel said suddenly, almost yelling but not quite. It was a near thing. “None of this shit matters because this has nothing to do with why he was killed. No one dies over a goddamn ballet. They die over something else altogether.”