Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) Read online

  He heard no sounds.

  He went back to his room and took the suitcase from the top shelf of his closet and placed it on the bed.

  Again he wondered if he should go through with it. It wasn’t going to be easy. His mom was good to him. But that was exactly the reason he had to do it. Mr. Elliot was a pretty cool guy and all, with all those football records and stuff, but he could be kind of scary, too. He seemed nice enough, but what if was just acting that way, so his mom would start liking him again? She said he used to be her boyfriend. Besides, some people around town didn’t like Mr. Elliot very much. You mention his name, and they look at you kind of funny. Mr. Elliot was pretty big, too. A guy like that could be a real problem if he decided to get mean.

  Wayne packed the suitcase and closed it. Mr. Elliot couldn’t be his dad, because his real dad had left home only a few months ago, and it’d been because of him, on account of his getting into trouble all the time. And now he’d gone and done it again, nearly getting kicked out of school this time. He shook his head. He figured his mom was just trying to make things better, but he didn’t want her to marry some big cop from Tulsa just because she thought he needed a dad. He had a dad. And he was going to Arkansas and bring him back home. He’d given this a lot of thought and he knew what he had to do. His dad had gone to Arkansas because that’s where his family was. Wayne would go there and find him and tell him how sorry he was and ask him to come back home. The quicker he got this over with, the easier it would be. He went out the back door, closing it as quietly as he could.

  As Wayne stepped into the street, he began to wish he’d put on a warmer coat, but he wouldn’t dare go back in. He might not have the courage to leave twice in the same night. Jimmy Snider said he could hang out in his garage for a spell, until he decided what to do. Jimmy said it’d be a good place to hide because his parents never looked in there on account of it was so full of junk and all, and they were afraid if they opened the doors it’d all come spilling out.

  Wayne clutched the suitcase with both hands and started toward Jimmy’s house. His mom would definitely be mad when she found out he was gone, but everything would be all right, once he brought his dad home again.

  Chapter Ten

  The morning had crawled over the horizon as if uncertain it should bring such a day to light.

  A similar case of apprehension tugged at Elliot’s senses as images from the night before danced inside his head. It turned out the property at 14th and Cheyenne was owned by the city. That didn’t help much. Somehow he didn’t think the City of Tulsa was murdering people in the living room of an abandoned house.

  Elliot knocked on Dombrowski’s door.

  Without looking up, Dombrowski motioned for Elliot to come in and take a seat. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

  The expression on the captain’s face was intense. Not the mood Elliot had hoped for. “Something’s come up. I need some time off.”

  The captain studied Elliot’s face. “Not a problem. Like I told you before, you need a few hours, maybe a day, just let me know.”

  “It’s a complicated issue. I’m not sure how much time I need.”

  Dombrowski pushed aside some papers and leaned forward, his elbows supporting him against the desktop. “What’s going on, Elliot?”

  Elliot pulled out one of the chairs in front of Dombrowski’s desk and lowered himself into it. Dombrowski was all right, but he would never understand the complexity of the situation. “A few years ago, when I was in school, a friend of mine got into a jam. He settled it, or so he’d thought. Now it’s come back to haunt him. He’s asked for my help. I intend to give it to him.”

  Wrinkles creased Dombrowski’s forehead. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

  Once again, several possible answers ran through Elliot’s head. “His girlfriend disappeared back when we were in college. They never found her. He was a suspect but no charges were filed. I know the guy. He’s a little weird, but he’s no killer.”

  “Can you take care of it after hours?”

  “Not really, sir. It wouldn’t be fair to the department. Until I get this thing taken care of, my mind wouldn’t be on the job.”

  Dombrowski frowned. “You’re hard to figure, Elliot. A few months ago, I couldn’t run you out of here. Now you’re asking to take off for an undetermined amount of time.”

  “I’m sorry, Bill. It’s something I have to do.”

  Dombrowski lowered his gaze to the work he had on his desk. “All right, Elliot. Take care of your business, but don’t make me wait too long.”

  Elliot thought about trying to explain further but decided against it. He turned and walked out. Before leaving, he stopped at his desk and called the Department of Motor Vehicles. The answer he got wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though it wasn’t completely unexpected. The Honda he’d followed from the old house turned out to be registered to Susan Conley. The fact resurrected the question of Shane Conley’s involvement. He’d have to drive over to Susan’s house and have a talk with her.

  Elliot found David Conley’s name in his address book and was about to connect, but it occurred to him calling ahead might not be a good idea, at least from a cop’s point of view, which like it or not was the role he intended to play. He tucked the phone away and walked out of the office.

  A few minutes later, Elliot parked at the curbside in front of Conley’s house and climbed out of the truck. Even though he suspected his current state of mind was embellishing his senses, he felt out of balance, like he’d made a wrong turn in a strange city. As he walked toward the house, images of Sergeant Conley filled his head. He remembered the day Conley had taken a bullet. It wouldn’t have happened if Elliot hadn’t asked for help on the case.

  Susan answered on the second knock. She had a drink in her hand, her expression reflecting a mixture of surprise and anger. “Well, well, well, look who’s come to visit.”

  Elliot wondered if she had been expecting him, or if she was just drunk. “We need to talk, Susan. May I come in?”

  Susan turned and walked into the house, leaving Elliot standing at the door.

  Elliot stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  The furniture showed no dust, the floor no debris, nothing out of place. A photo of his friend David, dressed in military attire, hung over the fireplace.

  Elliot tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind.

  Susan picked up a bottle from a bureau against the west wall and refreshed her drink. Elliot found his nerve and prepared to explain the nature of his visit, but before he could, Susan cut in.

  “My husband was a likable and friendly guy, but he chose his true friends carefully. He counted you as one of them. He respected you, and I respected him. You don’t owe me anything, Mr. Elliot, but I will ask one favor of you. I want you to walk out the door you came in and don’t come back.”

  Elliot suspected Susan understood, on some level, how hard it was for him to be there. This was the first time he’d come since Conley’s death. He’d tried dozens of times, but kept losing his nerve. He felt responsible for Conley getting killed. Now, he sincerely wished he didn’t have to do what he’d come for. “I stopped by for a reason,” he said. “It’s Shane. I need to speak with him.”

  Susan Conley tried to maintain her facade of defiance, but her trembling hands betrayed her. “What has my illustrious son gotten himself into this time?”

  “It could be nothing. I saw him last night parked near a house I’d staked out. I just need to know what he was doing there.”

  She shook her head. “He never tells me anything, where he’s going or what he’s up to.”

  Elliot felt bad for Susan. Losing her husband and the father of her children had been tough on her. “I’m sorry, but it is important.”

  “I haven’t seen him since last night. I don’t know where he is. I just don’t know.”

  “Try not to worry, Susan. I’m sure he’s fine. But he shouldn’t be driving
by himself at fifteen. I’ll let myself out. If you see Shane, tell him he’s not in trouble. I just need to talk with him about a few things.”

  Elliot reached out to Susan Conley, not only to comfort her, but to lessen his own pain as well.

  She recoiled, pulled away from his touch.

  Elliot turned away. He could only imagine how she felt, and he held no animosity toward her. She blamed him for her husband’s death. And she had good reason. He left her standing there and walked out.

  As Elliot stepped around someone sitting on the concrete steps leading from the porch, he realized it was Shane’s younger sister, Megan. He’d made it down the steps and onto the sidewalk when she spoke.

  “You’re dad’s friend, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right,” Elliot said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  It was a direct question, and as was often the case with young people, even a kid entering her teens, there was no pretense involved. “I came to see your brother.”

  Megan cocked her head and closed one eye, as if partially blinded by the sun. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I have my reasons. Maybe you could help me out with a few things.”

  She shrugged. “Like what?”

  “Do you know if Shane works at Oak Lawn Cemetery?”

  “Are you kidding? Shane doesn’t have a job. I don’t think he even understands the concept.”

  “He was driving your mother’s car last night. Do you know anything about that?”

  “He isn’t supposed to, but he does it anyway.”

  “Thanks. Do you know where I can find him?”

  She shook her head. “What do you want with him, anyway?”

  “He might have some information I need. Could you do me a favor?”

  She smiled with her eyes. “Sure.”

  “If you see Shane, tell him I need to talk to him.”

  Megan waved to someone on the sidewalk, a guy in his late twenties, possibly even early thirties.

  He waved back. “Hey, good looking, when are you going out with me?”

  She crossed her legs and smiled. “Come back later and we’ll talk about it.”

  Elliot started to walk away, but Conley’s daughter was screaming for guidance. He owed his old friend for a lot of things. It was time he paid a little back. “You should be more careful about who you associate with.”

  She frowned, her whole face changing. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

  “He looks like bad news. You should find someone closer to your own age.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “You don’t understand. The world is full of crazy people. You might not know who you’re dealing with until it’s too late.”

  “You sound like my dad.”

  Elliot handed her one of his business cards. “Do me one more favor, okay? If you ever need to talk, about anything at any time, give me a call.”

  She took the card and folded her hand around it. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Just remember what I said.”

  Elliot walked to his truck. As he pulled onto the street, he saw Megan waving goodbye.

  He returned the gesture. He hoped he had gotten through to her. David Conley had been one of the finest men he’d ever known and it hurt to think about his children in trouble, turning out bad. He considered waiting around the neighborhood until Shane returned, but if Shane was involved and he suspected Elliot was on to him, he would probably run. A question had been banging around in Elliot’s head ever since he’d made the connection between Shane and the Honda: What did the unruly son of David Conley have to do with Stanley Gerald Reynolds III?

  Elliot needed to know more about why Gerald had come to Tulsa, and why he’d called to talk about Laura Bradford. His gut feeling was he’d find some answers in Stillwater.

  Chapter Eleven

  A little over an hour after leaving Tulsa, Elliot stood on the sidewalk in a neighborhood of Stillwater. He checked the address, turned onto a cobblestone pathway leading to the house, and rang the bell.

  Seconds later, a lady with short, blonde hair opened the door.

  Elliot reached for his badge but realized his error and belayed the action. Not only was he on his own, he was out of his jurisdiction as well. He had not expected to find anyone other than Gerald. He’d even hoped his old friend might actually be there.

  The lady’s expression reflected annoyance. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m looking for Gerald,” Elliot said. “I was hoping to catch him at home.”

  Surprise showed on her face. “Sorry, hon. He’s not here.”

  Elliot pulled a business card and handed it to the lady. He wondered if she was Gerald’s wife. “Do you know where I might find him? It’s important.”

  “What do you want with him, anyway?”

  Realizing she might have the answer in her hand, the lady studied the card Elliot had given her. “Is Stan in some sort of trouble?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She held the card out and shook it for emphasis. “Says here you’re a cop.”

  “But I’m not here as a cop, just a concerned friend.”

  The lady placed her hands on her hips. “And why should you be concerned?”

  “He called a few days ago, said he had something to discuss with me, but he never showed. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Sounds like Stan,” she said. “If lack of communication is the only reason you’re worried, you must not know him very well.”

  A man appeared behind the lady. It wasn’t Gerald.

  “This guy bothering you, Cheryl?”

  The lady glanced at Elliot and said, “He’s just a friend, helps us out around the house, does the lawn and stuff.”

  Elliot studied him through the doorway. “Does lawn-boy know where Gerald is?”

  “Hey, like the lady said, he’s not here. So why don’t you get out of here before I step outside and help you along?”

  Elliot tensed, but forced himself to relax. “If this is a bad time, I could come back when it’s more convenient for you.”

  “Just give me a minute,” the lady said. She pushed lawn-boy aside and closed the door.

  Seconds later, the garage door opened, and a late model Mercedes backed out and drove away. It was lawn-boy.

  When the lady returned, she said, “Why don’t you come on in?”

  Elliot followed the lady to a dining area situated near a bay window. The light coming through showed a dirty tiled floor.

  She sat at the table and gestured for Elliot to do the same. “All right, Detective, what’s this all about?”

  Elliot chose the chair directly across the table from the lady. “What’s your relationship with Stanley Reynolds?”

  A puzzled look crossed her face. “I had the impression you’d already done your homework. My name’s Cheryl. I’m Stan’s wife.”

  Elliot leaned back in the chair. Cheryl Reynolds was awfully calm, considering her husband was missing. “I hadn’t heard from, Gerald, or Stan, since college. He said he was in trouble. Do you know anything about that?”

  “He’s been acting a little strange lately, but he never said anything about trouble.”

  Elliot’s nerves were tingling, like something was about to happen. He halfway expected lawn-boy to come running into the room, carrying a shotgun. “When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs. Reynolds?”

  She looked away, staring at something outside the window. “It’s been a few days. Look, I’m not going to pretend everything is okay. You’ve probably already figured it out anyway. Stan and I are having problems. We’ve been having problems for months, but recently it’s gotten worse.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “He’s been getting phone calls. He said she was an old friend. I think he said her name was Laura. I suspect they’re having an affair.”

  “Laura Bradford?”

  “Yes, I believe you�
�re right. Do you know her?”

  Elliot thought about seeing Laura on the running path, the voice on the phone at the hotel. “She and Gerald used to hang out together in college.”

  “Were they lovers?”

  She was in my car. I turned around and she was there. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

  Cheryl Reynolds’ expression more resembled resignation than defeat. “I’m not trying to do your job for you, Detective. But the way I see it, it’s pretty simple. You find this girl, Laura, and that’s where you’ll find Stan.”

  Elliot saw no indication of children with the marriage; no photos on the furniture, no memorabilia on the walls. “Does Stan have an office or a study in the house?”

  “Why do ask?”

  “Maybe he left something behind,” Elliot said. “Any kind of clue at all would be helpful.”

  Mrs. Reynolds pursed her lips. “Stan’s pretty protective of his little domain. He asked me not to let anyone in there. In fact, he asked me to leave it alone as well, said he’d keep it clean and for me not to worry about it.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Leave the office alone?”

  Cheryl Reynolds got out of her chair and walked across the room and down a hallway.

  Elliot followed.

  Near the end of the hallway, she retrieved a key from the top of the door frame, unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  An eerie, bluish light glowed from the screen of a computer, but other than that, the room was empty.

  Elliot glanced at Mrs. Reynolds.

  “Stan always liked the room neat and uncluttered, but nothing like this. I have no idea what he did with all the stuff.”

  “What about the computer?” Elliot asked.

  “I’ve tried. Everything’s password protected.”

  Elliot noticed a document lying in the printer tray, and he picked it up and examined it.

  The printout depicted a photograph of the Spiro Mounds area, an ancient, Native American ceremonial center. The caption across the top read: Caddo Fundamentals—Spiro and the Arkansas Basin.

  Elliot’s stomach tightened. Laura had claimed to be Native American, and more to the point, she had said she was Caddo. He showed the printout to Mrs. Reynolds. “Does this mean anything to you?”