Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) Page 2

  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 s
aw 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.

  “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 h
is 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.”