Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) (2 page)

The waitress didn’t like it. She came over and handed Elliot the bill. He wasn’t going to find anything here. He paid the waitress, left the restaurant, and headed to the office.

* * *

Elliot pushed back from his desk and stared at the notes he’d made. Gerald’s last known address turned out to be in Stillwater. It appeared he’d stayed there after graduation, but the call Elliot received had come from here in Tulsa, more specifically a hotel just off 71
^st
Street near Yale Avenue. The phone company had verified it. The hotel was near the Savoy restaurant, probably why Gerald had chosen it as a meeting place. If he’d been in town for a few days, he’d probably eaten there.

Elliot left the office and drove to the hotel. As he crossed the parking lot, his phone went off.

He checked the caller. Carmen Garcia’s name and number ran across the screen.

Elliot had expected it to be Gerald, trying again to contact him, and the surprise caused him to lower the phone. He thought of Carmen, the way her dark eyes caught the light, her creamy skin reflected the sun. He longed to take her in his arms and never let go, and he wanted to tell her, but what came out when he finally brought the phone to his face was, “Carmen, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Not so pleasant,” she said.

Elliot gripped the phone. Bubble busted. “What’s up?”

“It’s Wayne. He was in a fight at school today.”

“Is he all right?”

“He is not hurt, but it is not all right. I don’t want him to be like... to exhibit that kind of behavior.”

Elliot swallowed a lump in his throat. What Carmen had stopped short of saying was she didn’t want Wayne to turn out like his father. Carmen still saw him as a pumped-up eighteen year old football player. He’d had quite a reputation in school. But a kid on his own has to learn to fend for himself. He’d gotten pretty good at it. When the bullies started to avoid him, so did everybody else. Admittedly, he’d done little to dissuade that kind of thinking. In fact, he’d ridden it into adulthood. It was easier being a cop when you had respect. Just like in school, you rough up a few bad guys and the word gets out. He wasn’t such a tough guy, really. He just had trouble letting people know that. “Do you want me to have a talk with him?”

“I’ve arranged for a conference this afternoon. I think you should be there.”

A smile made its way across Elliot’s face. Some people might have been upset over such a thing, but he was happy to be included, proud to be a part of Wayne’s life. “Sure,” he said. “I assume it’ll be in the principal’s office.” A place you should be quite familiar with, he imagined Carmen was thinking. “What time do I need to be there?”

Carmen gave him the information and disconnected.

Elliot shoved the phone into his pocket and stepped into the lobby. He walked over and laid his badge on the registration desk. “Detective Elliot with the Tulsa Police Department. I need to speak with Stanley Reynolds. I believe he’s registered here.”

Two people stood behind the counter, though neither of them acted as if they wanted to deal with the situation, but finally a young man who looked to be in his early twenties stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir. What did you say the name was again?”

Elliot repeated the information.

The clerk began punching on a keyboard. Seconds later, he nodded, as if it all made sense now, everything in its place. “He’s here all right. Is he dangerous?”

“I’ve known him to be cunning and devious, but not violent.”

Again the understanding nod.

Elliot didn’t have a warrant, and he didn’t want to press the issue, so he figured he’d play it straight. “Could you ring his room, tell him I’m here in the lobby, and ask him if he’s willing to speak with me?”

A thin smile formed on the clerk’s face. “Sure. I can do that.”

He picked up the phone, and seconds later began speaking into the mouthpiece. He turned to Elliot. “Someone’s there, but I don’t think it’s who you’re looking for.”

Elliot grabbed the phone. “Hey, Gerald, what’s up?”

“Gerald’s not here.”

Elliot closed his free hand into a fist to avoid wiping the perspiration that’d formed there against his pant leg. The voice seemed oddly familiar, but one thing was for certain. It didn’t belong to Gerald.

“Who is this?”

“Has it been so long that you don’t remember? Gerald and me, Terri, and you, at Eskimo Joe’s?”

Elliot gripped the phone, thinking back to those days in Stillwater. Gerald had brought him into the group after Elliot had saved him from a beating. Gerald had managed to get the wrong kind of attention from a bunch of kids with tattoos and bad haircuts. Elliot had hurt one of them more than he should have, but he’d managed to convince them to leave Gerald alone.

Gerald had been a loyal friend from there on out. But there was much more to Stanley Gerald Reynolds III than being your typical college student. He was driven, like someone on a quest even he did not understand. He was drawn to the unusual, and he’d put together a loose-knit band of followers who shared his enthusiasm for the macabre; anything out of the ordinary and they were all over it. Elliot had thought he wouldn’t fit in, but he began to look forward to the meetings, Thursday nights at Eskimo Joe’s.

Everything changed when Laura showed up. Whether or not the evolution was for the worse, Elliot reserved judgment, simply because he wasn’t sure. Laura awakened something in Gerald, ignited his drive and turned it into a passion, and together they led the group away from the mildly curious and put them on a collision course with the paranormal. No one said anything. They just let it happen. Word got around and the calls started to come. Most of it was harmless—a bunch of scared sorority girls convinced they’d seen a ghost, or frat boys playing games—but not all of it. Laura never let on to the others, but she could tell what was real and what was not. So could Elliot. Laura knew that, too.

A chill ran through Elliot. If he’d been wearing a coat, he would’ve pulled it tighter. He was taking too long to answer, so once again he forced himself to say her name, “Laura?”

She didn’t answer.

“Gerald might be in trouble,” Elliot said. “If you know where he is, you need to tell me.”

The phone was silent. Elliot didn’t try again. It would do no good. And they would find the room empty. He knew that with a certainty he could not explain. His visions had gained clarity and strength since his encounter with Laura, but they were still, as always spotty and incomplete. Gerald would not be in the room, but other than that he had no idea of where he might be. The room might hold some clues. He turned away and started toward the elevator. He was halfway across the lobby when the hotel clerk intercepted him.

He’d come from behind the counter, and while he spoke he kept glancing around, as if someone might overhear what he had to say. “I’m guessing finding this Gerald guy is pretty important to you.”

Elliot nodded. The kid wanted to help, a little secrecy, undercover work with the cops. He glanced at his nametag. “I appreciate your help, Phillip, but I don’t want you to do anything that might get you into trouble.”

The elevator opened and Elliot stepped inside, the clerk close behind.

“Ladonna,” the clerk said. “One of the maids. I have a class with her son.” He glanced at his watch and punched number three on the elevator console. “If I’m right, she should be somewhere in the vicinity.”

The doors opened and they stepped into an empty hallway.

The clerk shook his head, a don’t-worry gesture. “She keeps a pretty tight schedule. Wait here. I’ll find her.”

He strode down the hallway and rounded the corner. A few minutes later, a cart being pushed by the maid came into view. The clerk was right behind her. As they approached, they kept their voices down, the maid doing most of the talking.

Giving young Phillip a piece of her mind, Elliot thought. She appeared to be uncomfortable with the idea of letting a stranger into one of the hotel rooms. He stepped forward and introduced himself. “Don’t be too hard on him. He was only trying to help.”

The maid, a tough looking woman in her fifties, cocked her head in a quizzical manner. “Shouldn’t you have a warrant for something like this?”

“Yes, ma’am. This is not yet an official case. I’m trying to intervene before it escalates. However, I understand and respect your position.”

She jerked a thumb toward the room. “This guy you’re looking for, he in some kind a trouble?”

Elliot thought about the phone conversation he had earlier in the lobby.
Gerald’s not here.
“Yes, ma’am. I suspect he is.”

The maid grumbled but resumed pushing the cart, stopping as she neared the door to Gerald’s room. “I got to clean this thing sometime today. Now is as good a time as any.” She knocked on the door, announced her presence a few times, and slid her card into the lock. “I guess there ain’t no law says you can’t glance into the room as you’re walking past. Everyone else does.”

Elliot nodded. “What do you usually do if you find anything unusual during your rounds?”

“Kind of depends on what it is.”

“Say it’s a gun or a knife.”

She shrugged. “Anything looks like it ought to be reported to the police, I’d call the manager, let him handle it.”

Elliot glanced at Phillip. “Would that be our young friend here?”

“God help us. I’m afraid so.”

Elliot tried to hide his smile, but Phillip didn’t seem to mind. He was smiling as well.

The maid propped the door open and went inside the room.

Stepping forward but staying in the hallway, Elliot studied the room.

The bed had been slept in. But no clothes hung in the closet, no shoes on the rack.

The hotel clerk stood beside Elliot, a confused look on his face. “Someone was in the room. We both talked to her on the phone.” He glanced up and down the hallway. “Nobody came down the elevator. Where did she go?”

“She could’ve taken the stairs,” Elliot said, “or got off on another floor.”

“So she could still be here, in the hotel?”

Elliot shook his head. “My guess is she’s long gone by now.”

The look on the clerk’s face was somewhere between worry and excitement. “Do you know who she was? I mean I can pretty much guess she’s either the girlfriend or the wife of the dude you’re looking for, but you got to admit this is kind of weird.”

The maid had finished cleaning the room and Elliot stepped back to allow her access to the hallway. The kid didn’t know how right he was, and it was best left that way. “It comes with the territory,” he said, “being a cop.”

The maid pushed the cart toward the next room, dropping a wadded piece of paper at Elliot’s feet as she went past, making her way down the hallway.

Elliot bent over and retrieved the paper, unfolding it as he stood straight again. The maid didn’t want Phillip to see her pass the note. She was trying to help, but she didn’t want to get herself into trouble.

“What’s that you got?” The clerk asked.

Elliot closed his hand around the paper. “It’s nothing. Thanks for your help, kid. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

Outside the hotel, Elliot sat in his car, studying the name written on the paper the maid had found in Gerald’s room. The name was David Stephens, common enough by itself, but the prefix of
Professor
gave it distinction. It also dragged Elliot’s thoughts back several years to a time when he’d walked into a counselor’s office, a room full of heaviness and unhappy faces.

The events leading to the dissolution of Gerald’s investigative group began with Angela Gardner, a student of anthropology.

At the head of the table in the counselor’s office had been, of course, the counselor, but to his right was the one who’d ordered the meeting, a professor named Stephens, David Stephens to be exact, Angela’s teacher.

Flipping the scrap of paper over, Elliot saw something had been scribbled there as well, a series of numbers and letters that read: W14SCheyenne. He didn’t know what to make of it. He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. The possibility that all of this could be nothing more than one of Gerald’s practical jokes had not escaped him. Gerald was fond of playing them, or at least he had been. The finality of the notion disturbed Elliot.

But he’d have to think about Gerald later. Right now he had an appointment with Carmen and his son.
He called Dombrowski, told him about the meeting at the school, and drove to the town of Porter where Carmen and Wayne lived.

Chapter Four

Carmen Garcia walked into the bathroom of the small house in Porter, Oklahoma, where she and her nine-year-old son Wayne lived and checked her makeup one more time. She saw her reflection in the mirror and considered the dress she’d chosen.

Was it conservative enough? She thought maybe it was. She turned toward the closet to have another look, but thought about what she was doing and stopped in the bedroom and checked her watch.

She did not like to be late, and yet here she was, acting ridiculous, agonizing over clothing choices like some schoolgirl. It was a meeting with Wayne’s principal, not a party or a dinner date. But that wasn’t the problem. She would see Kenny there, and though she wished she did not feel that way, the fact was she was looking forward to it.

Inside the school, Carmen tried to walk softly but her high heels clacked against the tiled hallway as she hurried along. She hoped some of the others would be late, too, but when she walked into Mr. Gaither’s office everyone was seated and waiting for her. And there he was, Kenny Elliot, looking as cool and handsome as ever. He stood when she entered the room.

Mr. Gaither leaned his elbows against his desk and clasped his hands together. “Now that we’re all here, why don’t we get started?”

The beefy man with a florid face leaned forward. It was Paul Masterson, Blake Masterson’s father.

“The way I see it, Wayne Garcia’s the problem and there’s only one way to fix it. The boy’s a trouble maker and he ought to be suspended.”

Kenny got up from his chair. Carmen reminded herself to remain calm. It was true she wanted Kenny to be there both for her benefit and for Wayne’s sake, but she also worried about what he might do, the trouble he could cause. When she was young, he had frightened her, but it had been exciting to walk the schoolyard holding the arm of the boy everyone feared. But things were different now. She had grown up and she had responsibilities, like providing a good home and a proper environment for Wayne. She had wrestled with the idea of whether or not she should ask him to attend the meeting, and now she hoped he would not do anything to make things worse. She realized how little she knew about him now. Perhaps he had matured with age and changed, but she was not sure.