The Crying Game

Chapter Six

Louboutin heels clicked softly against the white porcelain floors as the impeccably beautiful woman moved with grace down the spacious ballroom that had been decorated for the event. Her hair—like spun gold—hung heavy down her snowy colored back. Her tall, statuesque form moved toward her target with enviable flair. She moved with such grace, it was like watching a ballet routine. Her blue eyes—so light they were nearly the color of ice—seemed to take no notice in the fact that everyone in the room was watching her with wide, enamored eyes. The dress she wore was skintight, showing off her incredible figure and it stopped at her knees giving a great view of the rest of her legs. It was as white as the porcelain floor beneath her and only a shade lighter than her own incredibly pale skin.

She came to a fluid stop in front of the man she had been looking for: the man who had called her here tonight. He looked to be in his late sixties but still retained an air of refined beauty that had clearly entranced all the people that were surrounding him. His gray hair was pushed away from his face and his serious brown eyes seemed to hold answers to secrets others hadn't even thought to ask yet.

As the man saw the beautiful woman stop in front of him, he turned to his group of admirers—all of who were staring at this incredible looking woman openmouthed—and said, "My dear friends, I really must talk with Rana. If you would all excuse me."

He held out a hand and the woman—Rana—turned as if she were in the middle of some beautiful ballet routine and was twirling for a crowd of adoring fans. She let the man lead her out of the crowded ballroom and into the hall of the hotel where the event was being held.

"You summoned me." Her voice was like a pure white feather floating across a blue sky and her words were like the wind that kept that feather afloat. The English accent that adorned her voice only made the sound of her speaking more pleasing to hear.

"I did," the man said, frowning. "I'm sure you're familiar with the murders that have been happening all over New York for the past month."

Rana's full lips thinned with displeasure and the man took that as his answer before he continued on.

"I wasn't going to intervene," he sighed. "My son swore he could handle the situation himself but there's no time now. The NYPD has assigned Janice Cooper to this case."

Rana's expression didn't twitch although the man in front of her said the name like it was something she should fear.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" She asked.

"It should," the man replied, his voice suddenly sharp. "Janice Cooper has solved a total of fifty-two unsolved cases and she's only twenty-six. Not to mention, she has special motivations pushing her to solve this one." He reached into his tux pocket and pulled out a picture, handing it to Rana.

Rana took the photograph and studied it when her eyes saw the person smiling happily, she felt her eyes pop out of her head in disbelief. Her head snapped up and her icy eyes met the man's unsmiling ones.

"She's her daughter."

"Indeed. And as you can probably imagine, Janice was the one who found her mother as a child. I'm afraid pushing what happened under the rug only helped us for a little while. Janice can be a real pain in our asses if left to her own devices."

Rana's eyes lingered on the photograph a little, the shock of finding out that this woman had had a daughter still in her system. She snapped back to the present quickly, though, turning her attention back to the man.

"And what is it that you wish for me to do?" She wondered.

The man leaned back against the wall, somehow still managing to look like royalty even as he did. He looked up at the high ceiling which was decorated with beautiful drawings that reminded him distinctly of the Sistine Chapel. His eyes captured by the angel with his graceful white wings banishing a demon to Hell.