Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) (3 page)

“Hold on a minute,” Kenny said. “Before we go any further, I need to be brought up to speed. What exactly are we talking about here? What did Wayne do?”

“He jumped my boy. That’s what he did. Hid behind a corner or something, I suspect, and caught him off guard, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to take him otherwise.”

Carmen smoothed her dress. She wished Mr. Masterson had kept quiet. And why was Mrs. Masterson just sitting there and not trying to corral her husband?

Kenny turned toward Mr. Masterson. “And you are?”

“Paul Masterson, Blake’s father. And if you’re who I think you are, you haven’t done a very good job of raising that boy of yours. He’s a nuisance and he needs to be disciplined. But I’m sure you won’t do it. You’re probably as big a coward as he is.”

Carmen closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to will Paul Masterson to stop talking before he caused Kenny to lose control and ruin everything, which would confirm what the town already suspected: Wayne was his father’s son, in every sense of the word. Carmen opened her eyes to confirm her fears had materialized.

Kenny now stood in front of Paul Masterson.

Masterson’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “You better do something, Gaither, before I show this punk the road.”

Mr. Gaither was also standing. “Now see here, gentlemen. Let’s behave like adults. Don’t make me call the police.”

Mrs. Masterson still sat there, no expression showing on her face. Knowing she had to do something, Carmen rose from her chair. Always she hoped Kenny would change, that the gentler side of him, which at times she had to admit only seemed obvious to her, would prevail, but she was beginning to lose hope. “Kenny,” she said, the words echoing through the small office with much more tone and volume than she had anticipated. “Please sit down.”

Kenny turned toward her, his smile slow and confident as if everything in the world was right. Carmen smiled back. After all, it was Paul Masterson who was acting aggressive, not Kenny.

Carmen realized, though she was indeed worried about Kenny’s behavior, that she loved him now more than ever, had never stopped loving him, and probably never would. She started to say something else, but Kenny shook his head.

Chapter Five

Elliot glanced around the room until his gaze came upon Carmen.

The expression on her face said she was again wondering what kind of man he really was.

“There’s no need for concern,” he said. “I just want to have a word in private.”

He subtly yet forcefully urged Masterson from the room and pushed him against the wall in the hallway. “Let me introduce myself,” he said. “Name’s Elliot, and I don’t like what you said about Wayne, or the way you said it. If you’ve got an explanation handy, now might be the time to let it out.”

Masterson fidgeted and glanced toward the office. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Elliot smiled. “I think I understand. Now’s not the time or the place, is it? We can’t raise our voices or do anything that might upset our friends here. But don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Elliot tightened his grip. “Well, let me lay it out for you. With everyone being so agreeable, this meeting shouldn’t take long. After it’s over, we’ll give it thirty minutes and meet at the ball field. I’m sure you know where it is. Without our audience, we should be able to settle this matter rather quickly.”

“I’m not meeting you anywhere.”

“Whatever you think. But if you’re not there, I’ll come looking for you.”

“Hold on,” Masterson said. “Let’s be civil about this, go back inside, and have our meeting.”

Elliot released his grip. He’d known all along Masterson would fold at the first hint of trouble.

Masterson straightened his clothes, gave Elliot a disgusted look, and turned and walked back into Gaither’s office.

As soon as Elliot entered the office, Mr. Gaither sat down and folded his hands. “Ms. Garcia and Mrs. Masterson have decided to handle this at home. Since the incident happened off school grounds, I’m inclined to agree with them.”

Elliot smiled and patted Masterson on the back. “Great,” he said. “Paul and I have reached an agreement as well.”

After a bit of small talk, the meeting was over, and Elliot walked Carmen to her car. Once there, she leaned against the car and looked up at him, her face unreadable.

He wanted to take her in his arms, but he pushed the notion from his mind. “Do you want me to talk to Wayne about this?”

She shook her head. “What advice would you give him? Use a two-by-four instead of your fists?”

“That’s a cheap shot, Carmen, and you know it.”

“Is it? You were about to cause a scene in there with the people we are supposed to be apologizing to.”

“I don’t think we owe them one.”

“How can you say that, after what Wayne did to their child?”

“Considering no one has told me exactly what happened, I don’t know what to think. In addition, I don’t know what the other kid might have done, what his part in all of this was.”

“It doesn’t matter. Wayne should keep his behavior in check. I prayed he would not turn out like his father, always angry and provoked so easily. But my prayers go unanswered. He is just like you.”

Elliot looked away. It hurt to hear Carmen talk that way, and he was inclined to leave it there and walk away, but instead he held his ground. “You don’t remember me as well as you think. I wasn’t angry, not really. And I was never easily provoked. Admittedly, it takes a while to calm down when I do get angry, but it takes quite a bit to get me there.”

“Oh really? I guess it wasn’t you in the school just now, scaring the wits from poor Mr. Masterson.”

“Poor Mr. Masterson was out of line. And he was never in any danger. I was just trying to scare him. I know his type, plenty of money and a lot of influence, especially in a small town like this. It hasn’t been that long since you and I went to school here, and I doubt things have changed much. If I hadn’t stopped Masterson, he might have influenced Gaither to expel Wayne.”

“And what do you think he will do now? You probably made things worse.”

Elliot shook his head, trying not to smile. “He won’t do anything.”

Carmen looked away and the wind caught her hair, blowing it back and revealing the clean lines of her profile.

The moment caught Elliot with such power that he had to turn away. He wished they were married, raising Wayne together, and this was just one of those arguments couples have.

“This was a mistake,” Carmen said. “I should not have asked you to come.”

Elliot took a step toward Carmen, but stopped short of putting his hand on her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mean that. I want to be part of Wayne’s life.” And a part of yours, he thought, but as with the touch, he stopped himself. “It means a lot to me.”

She turned back, though she avoided direct eye contact.

Elliot smiled. Carmen had always been shy, not afraid to look at people, but rather, like with all beautiful women, she had learned to be careful with the amount of attention she gave men, especially with her eyes.

“I’m happy to hear that,” she said. “But the trouble we have had in our lives, it all seems to...”

“Center around my propensity for violence?”

“That might be putting it too harshly.”

Elliot smiled. “I know it’s hard to tell, especially after what just happened, but I’m not like I used to be. I think about it all the time. And I was never as bad as everyone thought. You of all people should know that.”

Carmen trembled and reached out, the first to break the no-touch barrier, and put her hand on Elliot’s chest, though it was modest and quickly removed. “You’re not bad. And I didn’t mean to give you that impression.” She shook her head. “I should be going.”

Carmen unlocked her car and climbed in. Before leaving the parking lot, though, she rolled down the window and this time allowed her direct and lingering gaze to find Elliot’s. “Maybe you could call me tomorrow and we can talk more about this.”

Elliot smiled.

Chapter Six

Later that night after his meeting at the school with Carmen, Elliot sat in a recliner in the living room of his home in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, sipping coffee and trying to decide if he should continue looking for Gerald, or simply wait for his old friend to contact him again. However, each time he leaned in the direction of the latter, a gut feeling pushed him away from it—Gerald was in trouble.

Laura Bradford, at least the one Elliot had known, had never officially enrolled at the university. Elliot had spent the afternoon and part of the night finding that out, though it hadn’t surprised him. He’d never seen Laura in any of the classrooms or hallways or even on campus, unless she was with Gerald. Elliot thought about Terri Benson and he wondered how close Terri had been to Laura back when they all hung out together.

Elliot had always wondered if Laura’s being in Stillwater involved more than scholastic endeavors, or even being Gerald’s girlfriend. He’d suspected she had her own agenda. When she stopped coming around, he’d fallen back on that, figuring she’d found whatever it was she’d been after and with nothing else to keep her there, she’d gone back to wherever it was she’d come from. But what, exactly, she’d been after, he wasn’t sure. He’d learned at an early age that he was more intuitive than most people, but his uncanny guessing-game talents had their limits.

Elliot kept going back to Angela Gardner, the anthropology student. It had been shortly after Gerald’s encounter with Angela and her teacher, Professor David Stephens, that Laura had disappeared. After that, Elliot would see Gerald and Terri now and then, but the meetings at Joe’s began to taper off, never going further than casual conversation, until they just quit meeting altogether.

Elliot retrieved the scrap of paper that had been found in Gerald’s hotel room, focusing this time not on the name of Professor David Stephens, but rather on the previously unintelligible series of numbers and letters on the reverse. Gerald had a habit of scribbling things down in a hurry and he’d often run everything together, his own brand of short hand.

In light of this, Elliot saw the message as it should be, and
W14SCheyenne
became West 14
^th
Street and South Cheyenne Avenue. It was an address, or at least an intersection.

Elliot glanced at his watch. 11:30 p.m. He laced up his shoes and grabbed a jacket from the closet. In the hallway, he considered the weapon that hung there.

He put on the shoulder holster and slid his jacket over it as he left the house. Inside the garage, he thought about the pickup, a better choice on such a night, but he’d recently acquired a Harley, one of those spur of the moment things he had to admit feeling a little silly about.

He straddled the bike and hit the garage door opener. When the garage door closed behind him, he fired up the Harley and motored out of the neighborhood.

The road unfolded in front of the handlebars, and while Elliot twisted the grip of the Harley, he wondered about the sanity of his actions, driving around this part of town at this time of night, but as soon as he crested the hill that overlooked the address Gerald had scrawled onto the paper, he knew this whole thing was a bad idea.

Elliot slowed the bike and brought it to a stop, hoping that the darkness and the vibration of the bike had caused a visual distortion, and he had not seen who he thought he’d seen in the mirror.

But there she was, Laura Bradford, standing not more than three feet behind him, those haunting black eyes that he’d never been able to completely eradicate from his mind staring right at him.

He tore his concentration from the mirror and twisted around.

She wasn’t there.

Elliot wanted to blame his failing visual acuity on lack of sleep and poor eating habits, but he knew better. There was another avenue to explore. His believing that Laura was a vision didn’t necessarily make it true. Each time he’d seen her, it had been dark, and had occurred in areas where deception was possible. She could have simply stepped off the trail and disappeared into the darkness. Even now, she could have darted behind a tree or a building. He thought back to a time when his mother had passed in her sleep and he was with her, in the house, by himself but not alone, and it was a feeling like that which now crawled across his senses.

A scream, like a wounded animal might make, cut through the air.

Elliot scanned an area about two hundred yards ahead where he thought the sound had come from.

The shadowy forms of homeless people who had gathered around a campfire near the lawn of an old apartment building were now scattering in several directions, disappearing into the streets and alleyways nearby.

Elliot tightened his grip on the handlebars of the Harley. The homeless did not relish being observed in daylight, but during the night they were not a timid bunch, especially on what they considered their own turf, but the scream had frightened them.

Elliot put the bike in gear and started toward the scene, but by the time he arrived the only thing remaining was the campfire.

Elliot leaned the bike against the stand and started toward the house, an old mansion that had been converted into an apartment building. One of the logs had fallen to the side of the campfire, though it was still partially in the fire and burning on one end.

Constantly surveying the area, he crouched slightly and when he had the torch in hand he straightened and resumed his journey, slowly climbing the stairs leading to the front entrance. The doors and windows had been boarded up. The place was empty.

Still using the torch for light, Elliot descended the stairs and walked across a grassy area leading behind the building.

The backdoor was secured as well, but when Elliot stepped away from the door, he saw another possibility.

A set of concrete stairs led into the earth, barely visible by the faint light of a distant streetlamp.

It was the entrance to the basement. Elliot pushed aside his wild ideas of what might be hiding in the dark space beneath the house and started down the steps, the light from the torch tossing the darkness around in haphazard shapes.