Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) (17 page)

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they just moved on. I believe they were murdered.”

“You’re saying atrocities of that magnitude happened right here in my city, and I never knew anything about it? Doesn’t say much for me, does it?”

Elliot looked away, observing the traffic. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just trying to help.”

Color flashed across Ryan’s face. “Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t understand. I’ve just about had enough of you, Elliot. Maybe we should take off the badges and settle it right here.”

Elliot tried to grasp what was happening. He’d seen some pretty hair-triggered cops, but nothing like this. He climbed off the bike and readied himself, aligning his left shoulder with Ryan’s chest. In an effort to not mirror his adversary’s aggression, he thought of Carmen, harnessing her influence to maintain control. “Don’t do this, Ryan. You’ll regret it.”

As if someone had reached inside Ryan’s head and flicked a switch, he’d become irrational, and now the switch was flicked the other way. As quickly as it had started, it was over

Ryan turned and walked away.

Elliot watched Ryan climb into his car. There was no denying what he’d just witnessed. Either Detective Ryan had a serious personality disorder, or the old case meant more to him than he was letting on.

Ryan’s uncanny behavior still occupied Elliot’s attention when his phone went off. It turned out to be Doctor Meadows, the Methodist pastor he’d asked to visit Angela Gardner.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Doctor Meadows, the Methodist pastor, was sitting at the bedside of Angela Gardner, reading quietly to her, but he closed the Bible and placed it on the bedside table when Elliot entered the room.

“Thanks for coming,” Elliot said.

“I’m grateful to be of service. And please, call me Tom.”

Elliot glanced at the floor. Doctor Meadows had asked him before to call him by his first name, but it made Elliot uncomfortable, seeming to diminish the respect he felt he owed him.

Doctor Meadows smiled. “How about Pastor Tom?”

“I’ll work on it,” Elliot said. He glanced at Angela, who seemed to be sleeping. “I got here as fast as I could.”

The sound of someone’s shoes squeaking against the tiled floor echoed through the hallway. Seconds later, Doctor Shaffer came into the room and went to Angela’s bedside.

“The doctor gave her something earlier,” Pastor Meadows said. “I think she’ll be … resting for a while.”

Pastor Meadows had avoided the term
all right
, but the question the words would have posed hung there, as if he’d added emphasis to them instead. He lowered his voice. “Miss Gardner said some peculiar things during our visit. She calls you her guardian angel, said she saw you on the other side, while she was out. Even in my line of work, I don’t often hear that kind of talk.”

Elliot glanced at Angela. In the last few days, he’d seen the ghost of someone who’d passed away, and the spirit of another who had, at the very least, brushed the gates of death. He decided to play it safe. “Angela’s been somewhat delusional, but her concern for her spiritual welfare seems genuine. That’s why I called.”

He smiled. “You did well, son. We had a good talk.”

Elliot considered confiding in the pastor. Such things often concerned him, wondering whether the source of his somewhat unusual abilities came from the right side of things. Carmen, the only other person he’d ever mentioned it to, said it was the nature of the individual that determined their effect, and not the other way around. Her wisdom had always inspired him.

Angela’s eyes fluttered open. She rose partially out of bed and propped herself on her elbows. With a raspy voice she said, “Kenny?”

Elliot glanced at Doctor Shaffer.

The doctor nodded.

Elliot went to Angela’s bedside and took her hand. It was almost as if she’d come to his rescue, helping him avoid what might have been an uncomfortable discussion concerning their relationship. “How’s my girl?”

Angela managed a smile. “You know, it’s kind of like hiding under the covers when you’re a kid. You feel safe there, but if you ever stopped to think about it, what’s a bunch of wool or a bit of cotton going to do?”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me, Angela.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re the one who showed me. We have a similar false sense of security when we try to hide from God.”

Pastor Meadows came over. He put his hand on Angela’s forehead. “Be at peace, my child. God is with you.”

“My heart is stained but not darkened. I’ve done things which were not my own. The truth is hidden in my dreams, as well, but not so much that I can’t recognize it. I’ve lived there, an inward quest of consumption. Knowing whether or not I am for that purpose alone will be my redemption, if not my damnation. In the end, we all have to pay for our sins, don’t we?”

“Jesus paid the price for you,” Pastor Meadows said. “All you have to do is believe and accept him as your savior.”

Angela squeezed Elliot’s hand and started to cry. “The girl with the dark eyes became the enemy, her sole purpose to destroy the vehicle, to remove the pathway it created. Her life was offered, not to me but for the darkness, though ultimately it was I who took it, with a blade of black glass. I killed her, Kenny.”

Angela stopped speaking. She relaxed her grip on Elliot’s hand and fell limply to the bed.

Doctor Shaffer ushered Elliot aside.

Other hospital personnel and people arrived, but among the faces that surrounded Angela’s bed, two stood out. Elliot stared into the sad and knowing eyes of George and Emma Gardner. And though the room was filled with people, it was empty of conversation, with the only sound coming from the heart monitor as its mournful cry indicated a flat-line of the patient. Angela Gardner was gone.

Elliot responded to a tap on his shoulder and when he turned he saw Angela, scared and confused. If he had not seen her body on the bed, he might have thought she’d made a recovery and had gotten up to go to the bathroom or to get a glass of water. She had sought him out before. Why shouldn’t she come to him now?

Elliot said nothing, but Angela seemed to catch the meaning of the words he would have spoken had he not been surrounded by others who would not understand. A peaceful look came over her as she fixed her gaze on something and she faded away.

A wave of dizziness came over Elliot. He reached for support, finding Pastor Meadows’ shoulder and with the pastor’s help, stumbled from the room.

Outside in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and drew his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away the perspiration. In a short amount of time, he and Angela Gardner had become close, forging a bond beyond the boundaries of friendship, even surpassing the rapport shared by family members.

Pastor Meadows squeezed Elliot’s arm. “She found her way, son. She was right with God. I’m sure of it.”

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I’m not Catholic,” Pastor Meadows said, “but I’ve heard my share of confessions. People facing death seldom lie about such things.”

“I didn’t see it coming.”

“It’s easy to get caught off guard in such a situation. And the way she went. She seemed ill but….”

Elliot nodded. It was as if Angela had waited for his arrival, and after purging her soul had given up and let go of the life that remained in her. Facing the reality of her own demons had been too much for her.

“We need to talk more about this,” Pastor Meadows said, “later, when you’ve had time to let it digest. Call, or come by my office.”

Elliot put on his coat and started down the hallway, Angela’s words still ringing in his head.
I killed her, Kenny.

Angela’s thoughts had been jumbled and her words cryptic, but the message had come through with clarity. She’d confessed to murder. Eight years ago, when they were still in school, she’d killed Laura Bradford.

Elliot reached the elevator and jabbed the button. He’d have to contact Ryan and let him know about this.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Elliot had chosen the restaurant, a high-end hamburger joint on 71
^st
Street. “How’s this?” he asked, aiming the question at whoever might answer.

Wayne shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”

Carmen nodded her agreement as well.

At the hospital, Elliot had called Ryan and left a message, explaining that he needed to talk to him concerning Angela Gardner. After that, he’d driven home and spent a few hours repairing the flattened truck tires. It’d been good therapy. With his head somewhat cleared, he’d convinced Carmen to reschedule their date night, or just having dinner, as she put it.

After the waiter had taken their order, Elliot studied the black and white photographs decorating the walls, some reflecting streets and buildings from 1930’s Chicago. He noticed Carmen watching him, so he brought his attention back to the table. “Thanks for rescheduling,” he said. “It means a lot to me.”

“Are you still working the case that has you so involved?”

She trailed the question off, her expression reflecting her dismay at having brought up the subject.

As if sensing his mother’s discomfort, Wayne seized the opportunity. “Have you ever shot anybody, Mr. Elliot?”

“Wayne….”

Wayne’s question, spoken with a volume typical of a boy his age, drew the attention of several nearby tables.

A vision of Ralph Kincaid’s tormented face played through Elliot’s memory. Of all the times he’d had to use his service weapon, that one haunted him the most.

His cell phone came to his rescue. He’d turned down the ring volume, but in the quiet that’d come over the restaurant, it still made a disturbance. The caller ID showed it was Detective Ryan.

“I really need to take this,” he said. He wiggled from the booth and strode across the lobby. Outside, he brought the phone to his ear. “This is Elliot.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about why you called.” Ryan’s voice was quick, irritated.

“I have some information for you,” Elliot said. “It has to do with the old case.”

“Say what you mean, Elliot. I don’t have time for games.”

“This is no game, Ryan. I tracked down Angela Gardner. Check your notes. She was one of the students you interviewed while you were checking on Stephens.”

“If there’s a point to all of this, I wish you would get to it.”

“Angela Gardner killed Laura Bradford. She confessed to it.”

The phone seemed to go dead, but it was just Ryan, trying to find the words. “Do you have her in custody?”

“She’s dead, passed away right after she told me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But, hey, you found my killer for me. It’s sad it turned out like this, but I can’t deny my relief. It’s time the old case was put to rest.”

Elliot squeezed the phone. There was no question Ryan wanted all of this to go away. “The case isn’t over, Ryan, not even close.”

Elliot watched a couple teenagers dressed in baggy pants walk into the restaurant. Ryan hadn’t replied, so he continued. “Angela killed Laura, but she didn’t have anything to do with the other murders.”

“Are we back to that again? What makes you so sure those drifters didn’t… well, just drift off again?” Ryan’s question sounded more like a plea than a belief, an expression of his desire for this thing to be over.

“I have my ways.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Now, if you have additional information pertinent to the case, I need to know about it.”

“Not a problem.”

“Come on, Elliot, you drop a bombshell on me and go silent? What are you saying, that Angela had an accomplice?”

Elliot watched the sloppily-dressed kids leave the restaurant and stroll across the parking lot. “In a manner of speaking, except it was the other way around. Angela would have been the accomplice.”

“I still think you know more about all of this than you should. Putting that aside though, do you have any idea who it might have been?”

“My guess would be Professor David Stephens,” Elliot said. “Do you know where he is?”

“What makes you think Stephens had anything to do with it?”

“You had him under investigation. A cop like you wouldn’t do that without a reason. Now you get all defensive every time I bring up his name.”

There was no answer.

“Come on, Ryan. What’s up?”

Again, the phone was silent. Ryan had disconnected.

Elliot shoved the phone into his pocket and went back inside the restaurant.

The food had arrived, but neither Carmen nor Wayne had touched it.

Elliot slid into the booth. “Sorry about the disturbance. But you shouldn’t have waited for me.” He held the phone out so they could see him switch it off. “No more interruptions. I promise.”

Carmen shook her head. “Your work is important to you. That is how it should be.”

Elliot picked up his burger and had it halfway to his mouth when Carmen nudged him.

“Would you like to say the blessing?” She asked.

Elliot flushed. He put his sandwich back on the plate and wiped his hands. “Sure.” He bowed his head and put together a short prayer. As soon as Elliot had finished, Wayne, who’d been showing obvious enjoyment over Elliot’s predicament, began eating. It was nice, like being in a real family. “So how’s school going?” Elliot asked.

Wayne shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Elliot hadn’t been around his son much, something he regretted, but still he could tell something wasn’t right with him.

“What about the play?” Carmen said. “Why don’t you tell…Mr. Elliot about it?”

Wayne’s expression reflected apprehension. “Aw, mom.”

“I have some friends who are involved with acting,” Elliot said. “It takes a lot of courage and determination.”

Carmen smiled at Elliot’s attempt to encourage Wayne. “He wants to write and create screenplays someday.”

“I’ve always thought it’d be cool to be a writer, too,” Elliot said, “but so far all I’ve managed to crank out are a few police reports, and according to my captain I haven’t done all that well with them.”

Wayne made an effort to hide his smile.