Chapter 2: Margo

While she might never feel she deserved the comfort and luxury of the Rolls, Margo couldn't deny how much she cherished it, especially after days such as this.

She hadn't seen him, and had no claim to abilities such as Carol's, but Margo knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Harry had watched her conversation with Thad Newton at the Karghold gates. He'd watched her arrive, he'd watched their talk, and he'd watched her leave, and he had done nothing.

To say it hurt her deeply was an understatement.

But that hurt was mitigated somewhat by Thad's demonstration or explanation of Harry's condition. Margo had long been aware concepts could be stated a hundred different ways before striking on the one way that actually communicated the concept and made it real to the listener.

It hadn't been real to her before that afternoon. Intellectually she'd understood, but knowing and realizing were two such different animals sometimes, and she hadn't truly understood how close they were to losing Harry.

She wanted to freeze the world, stop time, and give him all the space and time he needed to heal, work out whatever the issues that were ripping at his soul.

But time kept moving, and events wouldn't stop occurring.

He showed little to no interest in plans to rebuild the house, any plans at all really. It was just a few weeks to Thanksgiving and she had no idea if their husband would be joining them, or eating who knew what in a little cabin in the Karghold, or sitting down to dinner with Thad and Vida and their crew...

And those weren't even her issues to deal with. Margo had more than enough on her plate dealing with Minerva's estate. Kelly was running the House, Magda and Lori were in charge of the household, Carol was a ball of misery because of Harry's abandonment of them, as was Camille, and Candy was holding those two together through sheer force of will.

Everybody, the whole family, the whole inner House, needed, to one degree or another, the time Harry was taking for himself. She was reasonably sure they didn't need it as much as he did, but they were none of them whole anymore.

Give them time, Margo, give yourself time. Given nothing more than the inescapable passage of days, things will sort themselves out.

Margo sat bolt upright in the back of the Rolls, startling Devon.

"Madam?"

"Did you hear her?"

"Hear who?"

Tears seeped out the corners of Margo's eyes as she replied, "Nothing ... I mean, no one. I must have fallen asleep, been dreaming."

After days back at work managing Minerva's estate, and dealing with architects for three separate projects – the clinic, the spa, and the house in town – Margo sometimes felt nights were no rest at all. In spite of the ministrations of countless subs, Radhika most prominently, she lay in bed tortured by thoughts of her family falling apart, while an exhausted Kelly slept on one side of her, and a miserable Carol on the other.

Evening drinks, and pot, were moving from recreational into the realm of self-medication, just so Margo could let it all go long enough to grab four or five hours of sleep a night. She, as well as others in the House, slapped on their party faces while obligatory appearances were put in at clubs on the weekends, and holding court at Dominique's. There was sex, there was conversation, there was love, there was laughter, there was true affection; there was every appearance of a House holding up beautifully under very trying circumstances, but once it was just the House by itself again, Chorale was a joyless group.

Added to that, relations with the police were not comfortable.

They had found the arsonists, or at least six of them, hanging from piano-wire nooses in a warehouse on the east side of town before Harry made his escape, and for some very understandable reasons, the police were curious about the family's potential involvement ... or the involvement of unnamed friends of the family.

Luckily, there wasn't a problem with alibis; the suspects had been killed between 9 and 10 PM on a Friday night, and pretty much everyone but Harry and his minders had been at Dominique's, and they'd alibied him and each other. The police hadn't gotten around to questioning Harry himself. Given the state of his leg, they viewed it highly unlikely he'd been involved in subduing six younger men.

But Eddie was drawing a lot of attention, and his presence at Dominique's had been questioned again and again. There had been talk of not allowing him to leave the country for his business trip, but the alibi stood up no matter how hard it was hammered, and the DA didn't feel there was a judge in the city who'd refuse to let Eddie travel on a trip that had been planned well in advance of the house fire, let alone the murders.

Li Kuan had also drawn her share of attention, but again, wedded to Margo's side, she'd been seen and identified by far too many people.

In the end, Margo knew there should be little problem, and their lawyer, J. Noble Daggett agreed. She could live with the scrutiny of the family, no matter how many sneers and jibes were muttered. Far too many people in the halls of justice were involved in the scene to one degree or another, and the ones that weren't quite often had ties to other interests that wouldn't bear much looking into.

One such interest put in an appearance at Dominique's the following weekend.

Dominique sidled up to Margo at Chorale's table Friday night, bending over from behind and whispering in her ear.

"How do you feel about prostitution?"

"Actually, we're doing okay on money right now, but thank you for the thought."

"Smart-ass. Listen, just like there are strata of Houses, from the old-and-established to the new-and-holding-court-in-my-club, there are strata in the world of prostitution. The manager of the city's biggest and best brothel is in the club tonight, and would like to meet you."

Margo said, "Meet at the table or elsewhere?"

"My office," Dommi replied.

"Kelly and I will be up in a minute."

"No, Madam Grimes, just you. She's a very private person."

"Well, she wants to speak to me, so she's going to have to deal with Carol at least. I'm going to want her read on the woman and anything she says."

Margo hooked a leash on Carol's collar, missing the look that passed between Carol and Dommi.

"Madam Grimes, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Anna Smith."

The woman seated at the bar in Dommi's office was not at all what Margo was expecting. The madam of the biggest brothel in town wasn't supposed to look like a soccer mom at the end of a long day.