Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) (18 page)

“I’m proud of you, son. More than you’ll ever know.”

Wayne and Carmen exchanged glances.

Elliot wiped his hands on his napkin. He’d slipped with his word choice, and neither Wayne nor Carmen seemed comfortable with it. The episode left him feeling, and not for the first time, like an outsider. “Well,” he said, “now that we’re on the subject of screenplays, why don’t we go see one, a movie that is? You can pick the flick, Wayne, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Carmen’s expression showed she was uncertain about the prospect.

“That’d be neat. Could we, Mom?”

Carmen gave Elliot a look he could not read. She glanced at her watch. “I guess it would be all right. But we’ll have to hurry. Wayne has school tomorrow. He shouldn’t stay up too late.”

Elliot signaled for the waiter and after settling the bill they left the restaurant. A few minutes later, they walked into the lobby of the theater, a cinema complex just off 101
^st
and Memorial.

Wayne scanned the billboards and studied the digital display screens that showed an offering of animated stories, a couple of superhero flicks, and a few action-adventure stories. He kept looking until he found something that pleased him, a science-fiction film involving time travel.

The Parental Guidance rating concerned Carmen, but Wayne’s pleading eyes finally won her approval. She glanced at Elliot. “It’s what he likes.”

“Can I have popcorn?”

“You hardly touched your dinner.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t hungry then.”

Elliot gained Carmen’s visual approval, dug a ten dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Wayne. “Go for it, sport.”

A crowd of people buzzed around the concession area. Wayne would be a few minutes. As soon as the boy was out of hearing range, Elliot turned to Carmen. “Is something bothering Wayne? I realize he’s uncomfortable around me, but he seems more distracted than usual.”

She glanced at the concession area. “He’s having trouble with all of this, trying to come to terms with your being his father. I should have told him sooner. I had no idea he’d take it so hard.”

“You’re doing fine. Nobody really knows how to deal with this kind of thing. Wayne will come around. He’s a good boy. And he couldn’t ask for a better mother. Anybody can see how well you’ve done with him.”

She shook her head. “He says he wants to go and stay for a while with his father… Anthony, I mean.”

Tears formed in her eyes but she fought them back. “I don’t want him to go. He’s all I have.”

Carmen’s words shot a current of pain through Elliot’s chest. “I don’t think he really wants to leave. His motivation is the same as when he ran away, to get things back the way they were, his family the way he remembers it. He thinks this might make it happen.”

Carmen pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. “I called Anthony and tried to talk to him about it. He wasn’t receptive to the idea. I thought he might talk to Wayne, make him feel better about the separation. He wouldn’t even do that. He doesn’t want anything to do with us. As far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance, but Wayne doesn’t feel the same way.”

Elliot stared at Carmen, unsure of what to say, and whether it was the right time or not, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but before he could act, Wayne came running over. He grabbed Carmen’s arm and tugged her toward the theater. “Come on. We’re going to miss it.”

The film turned out to be one that left the room dark most of the time. Elliot thought it was a good thing, since the lack of light hid their emotions. About halfway through the movie, Carmen slipped her hand into his.

Elliot closed his eyes and prayed for it to be real, for Carmen to want him as much as he wanted her.

A little later, she leaned close and whispered, “You’re a good man, Kenny Wayne Elliot.”

Elliot meditated on her words, trying to determine what, if anything might be in them, all the while searching for something to say in return. “Then what’s keeping us apart?” he asked.

Carmen didn’t answer, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

Elliot sank back into the theater seat, relishing for the moment the feeling of things being right in his world.

He should have known it wouldn’t last. After the movie let out, he walked with Carmen and Wayne into the lobby where he saw a familiar face in the crowd, just a brief glance he caught before the guy, who looked and moved a lot like the biker from Stillwater, pushed through the doors and stepped outside.

Elliot thought about going after him, but the peaceful look on Carmen’s face caused him to rethink his options. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him anyway. It could have been anyone.

Near the exit, in a corner of the lobby, a coin operated photo booth caught Elliot’s attention and he thought back to an earlier time.

Carmen’s mother had taken them to the mall in Tulsa where they had come upon an older version of the device now in front of them. Carmen had begged Elliot to go inside with her to have pictures taken together. She’d hung those photos on the wall of her bedroom.

Elliot tugged at Carmen’s arm and guided her toward the booth.

“What are you doing now?” Wayne asked.

Elliot stopped in front of the machine. “Your mother used to get quite a kick out of these things.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Carmen said. She held her arms up as if measuring Elliot’s shoulders. “I doubt you would fit anyway.”

Wayne giggled.

“Laugh it up, sport. We’re all three going in.”

“You’re on,” Wayne said. “Could we, mom?”

Elliot fed some money into the machine, went inside and poked his head through the curtain. “Don’t make me come out there.”

Carmen shook her head but her resistance was superficial at best, and soon she relented and squeezed in as well.

With Carmen on one knee and Wayne on the other, Elliot pushed the ready button.

As soon as the process had finished, Wayne scrambled out of the machine and grabbed the snapshots. He laughed as Elliot and his mother struggled from the booth, though his smile went flat as he settled down and began to examine the photos.

A current of disappointment ran through Elliot. He’d hoped Wayne might find the experience interesting, a good thing, not something to further dampen his spirits.

Wayne removed his attention from the photos and handed the snapshots to Elliot.

Curious as to what had caused Wayne’s sudden mood swing, Elliot examined the photos, and has he drew the glossy shots close and ran his gaze across them he began to realize the source of Wayne’s reaction. He glanced at Carmen.

She held his gaze for a moment, closed her eyes and nodded.

Elliot had, of course, noticed the resemblance, but seeing the boy’s face in close proximity to his own on the photographs was something he wasn’t prepared for. He and Wayne were practically identical, adjusting for the age of course.

Carmen slid her arm around Elliot’s. “We should be going.”

Outside the theater, as they crossed the parking lot, the roar of an automobile that sounded a lot like the one Elliot had heard leaving his neighborhood after its driver had flattened his truck tires grabbed his attention. He thought of Jake, the biker from Stillwater. Was it possible he’d been following him? The idea made little sense, and yet Elliot couldn’t bring himself to completely reject the notion.

Chapter Thirty

Somewhere around 9:00 PM, after dropping off Wayne and Carmen, Elliot rolled back into Tulsa. It’d been an uncomfortable ride, with long stretches of silence in between Wayne’s questions about football and being a cop.

The evening left Elliot considering a lot of things, most of it dealing with family, which reminded him he needed to follow up on Shane Conley. Shane’s connection to the case, if there was one, still had him baffled. Instead of going home, Elliot drove to Conley’s neighborhood. However, as he neared the front door, he relived the events leading up to Sergeant Conley being shot to death by a madman named Ralph Kincaid. It happened every time he came here. He was about to turn and walk away, but before he could, the door opened and Susan Conley stood in front of him. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

She appeared to be in better condition this time. “That’s pretty good,” Elliot said, “considering I didn’t know I was coming until a few minutes ago.”

“I guess I know you better than you realize. It isn’t surprising. David talked of you often.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

Susan turned and walked away, disappearing into the house.

Elliot found her, sitting on the sofa in the living room. “Can I get you anything,” she asked, “coffee, or a drink?”

“No, thanks,” Elliot said. Her mentioning alcohol concerned him. He didn’t want to see a repeat of her last performance. “I need to talk to Shane. Is he here?”

Susan’s eyes showed her weariness. “All right, but before I turn him over to you, there’s something you need to know.”

“I’m listening.”

“Shane’s not easily impressed” she said. “He’s hard for his age. I guess being the son of a cop will do that. He looks up to you, Mr. Elliot. I guess he sees in you something of what his father stood for.”

“He certainly has a funny way of showing it.”

“Shane’s a hard person to understand. His capacity for respect is pretty thin. Try not to diminish it further.”

“All right,” Elliot said. Susan definitely wasn’t mincing her words today. “I’ll be as tactful as I can.”

Susan stood and walked toward a hallway leading away from the living room. “Shane’s waiting in his room. He wanted to be alone with you.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She knocked softly and opened the door. “Whatever works,” she said.

She walked away, leaving Elliot unannounced and standing in the doorway. Shane sat at a desk with his back turned.

Elliot rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

“Yeah, come on in. Shut the door, too.”

Elliot walked across the room and sat on the bed.

Shane’s fingers worked the keyboard of a computer. “Are you a gamer, Mr. Elliot?”

“Not really. I usually have my hands full with the real world.”

“Yeah, well that’s kind of the point, leaving it all behind for awhile. You should try it.”

“Maybe I have in one form or another. But the trouble with escapism is the real stuff’s always still there, waiting for you when you get back.”

“You sound just like my dad.”

Elliot stared at the boy in front of him, not with anger but with a sort of pity. Even though Shane had had a hard life, he hadn’t lived long enough to realize his view of the things bothering him now would not so much soften with age as they would from overcrowding. With so many other problems coming along, you just get numb.

“Mom don’t get it either. She’s nothing like she used to be. If I ask her for something, she gets it for me. If I tell her it ain’t right, she just looks sad. She tries so hard to please me it gets on my nerves.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Sure I have. We just don’t communicate.”

“Would you like me to give it a try?”

“That’s all right. I have a feeling it’s not going to matter anyway, once you get through with me.”

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Your agreeing to talk with me says a lot. Where we go from here depends on your level of involvement, if there is any.”

Shane pulled a pack of cigarettes from a drawer of the desk and lit one up.

“What does your mother think about your smoking?”

“Like I said, she lets me do what I want.”

“Yeah, but like you just admitted, that’s not always a good thing.”

“Whatever. Could we just get on with it?”

“All right. Why were you parked along 14
^th
street near the old house Monday night? And don’t try to deny it. I saw you. You were driving your mother’s car.”

“So what if I was?”

“So you had to have a reason. Let’s hear it.”

Shane took a drag on his cigarette. “It’s my connection. He asked me to meet him. I think he lives over there somewhere.”

“What kind of connection?”

Shane rolled his eyes.

Elliot rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh. The kid hadn’t been involved after all. “I’ll need a name.”

“You know I can’t do that. It’s not just me.”

Shane had a tell-tale look on his face. Elliot had seen it before. The kid acted tough, but he was in over his head and he was looking for a way out. “If you’re being straight with me, I can help, and nobody’s going to hurt you or your family. You have my word.”

Shane worked the keyboard, acting as if he didn’t care one way or the other. Later he stopped and said, “Skyler. They call him Skyler.”

“Does Skyler have a last name?”

“That’s all I know. I swear to God.”

“All right, Shane. I’ll take care of it. But you have to promise me you’ll straighten yourself out.”

“Yeah, yeah, same old stuff.”

“Okay, so you don’t care about yourself. What about your sister, Megan?”

Shane took a drag on the cigarette. “What about her?”

“She’s going to end up just like you. She’s already started down the path.”

“I know what you think of me, Mr. Elliot. Just like dad, you only see what you want to see.”

“I don’t know any way to put it to you other than to just lay it out, but you got it all turned around. It’s a cop’s job to see the wrong side of people, and the cops who have the mettle to stick with it pick up on a few things along the way. You learn the ins and outs, just like any job. Learning how to read people is a fundamental necessity if you want to work the streets. And contrary to what the songs, and the poems, and the television programs try to ram down your throat, there are predictable patterns of behavior. To put it in simple terms, people who talk the talk sooner or later will walk the walk. So when you start to see those negative patterns of behavior developing in someone you care about, it tends to rip your heart out.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a born loser?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Your father was a good man and a good cop. Sometimes we don’t get around to telling those closest to us how much they mean to us.”