Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) Read online

  She shrugged. “Stan was always fascinated with such things, Native American Culture and all.”

  Another question formed in Elliot’s mind. “Have you checked with Stan’s employer?”

  “I doubt it would do any good. He got himself fired a few weeks ago.”

  Elliot placed the printout back in the tray where he’d found it. Gerald’s life had recently changed, and the turn had taken him to the point of losing his job and wrecking his marriage. Was Laura to blame, or was the failing marriage the cause and not the effect? Cheryl Reynolds’ actions didn’t fit those of a jilted wife. Elliot suspected the source of her irritation was more complicated than marital problems.

  “Could you give me the name of the company where your husband used to work?”

  A guarded expression came across her face. “I already told you he won’t be there.”

  Elliot pulled his notepad. He was on to something. Cheryl Reynolds had become a little more defensive. “Someone from the company might be able to help.”

  “Gerald and I did love each other at one time,” she said, “but people change. And then old girlfriends show up.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The door to the side entrance of the garage rattled.

  Wayne Garcia dove behind a cardboard box, snagging his shirt on something near the old workbench. He shouldn’t have messed around and knocked over the toolbox. Someone must have heard the noise. Jimmy said nobody would bother him there, but someone was definitely trying to make a liar out of Jimmy.

  The bottom of the door dragged noisily across the cement floor, as it had when Jimmy had let Wayne in, and let the sunlight in.

  Wayne held his breath. Whoever it was had come into the garage. He did his best not to move, not to make a sound, but he was sure the thumping of his heart would give him away.

  “Is anyone there? I have a phone. I’ll call the police if I have to.”

  Wayne relaxed a little. It was Jimmy’s mom. He thought about giving himself up. But what if she’d already called the police? Worse yet, what if she had a gun? His scaring the wits out of her by standing and announcing his presence could get him shot.

  “Jimmy, is that you? If you’re in here ditching school I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. And you’ll have your father to deal with, too.”

  Wayne shook his head. He was getting Jimmy into deep trouble.

  It was quiet for a moment, then the light went out and the door closed.

  Wayne waited a few minutes and dared a peek over the box.

  Jimmy’s mom was gone. Probably to call someone, maybe even the police. He couldn’t put Jimmy in any more danger. He had to get out of there. He stepped away from the protection of the box, out into the open.

  The word Christmas was scribbled across the box he’d hidden behind.

  His mom loved Christmas, and the thought caused him to worry about her, and what his running away might do. His vision blurred, but he was doing the right thing. He crept across the garage floor and went to the side entrance Jimmy’s mom had used. It wasn’t the only way out but it was his only option. He’d been there when Jimmy had opened the overhead doors at the front and they’d made plenty of noise.

  Near the door, a hooded sweatshirt hung from a clothes rack.

  Wayne pulled it down and wiggled into it. He guessed Jimmy had outgrown it, but it fit him well enough. Jimmy couldn’t help it. He liked to eat, that’s all.

  Wayne zipped the jacket and pulled the hood over his head, edged to the door, opened it a bit, and peeked through.

  Jimmy’s house sat about fifty feet away from the garage. Jimmy’s dad had built the garage later and he’d wanted it there for some reason.

  Wayne took a deep breath and readied himself. He didn’t know if Jimmy’s mom would see him or not when he left the garage, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. And the longer he waited, the worse things could get. He laid his shoulder against the door and shoved it open. He didn’t bother closing it again. He ran for the weeds behind the garage where he hit the ground and rolled beneath the barbed wire fence that separated Jimmy’s yard from old man Langford’s property.

  Wayne lay still in the weeds, watching Jimmy’s house.

  Nothing seemed to be happening. He had to find Jimmy. He belly crawled through the weeds for a spell to get some distance, and when he’d gone far enough he rolled back under the fence. He headed for the school. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there, but he’d think of something.

  Wayne made his way along the street, and a few minutes later he was near the school.

  Most of the kids were outside.

  Wayne checked his phone for the time. Sure enough he’d caught some luck and arrived during lunch break.

  An idea of what to do next came to him. He’d go inside the school building. With all of the commotion, he probably wouldn’t be noticed and he’d make his way to Jimmy’s locker, maybe even find him there. If not, he’d leave a note. He started toward the building, but halfway across the playground, someone tugged at his shirt.

  “Wayne, is that you?”

  Wayne turned around to see Patricia Cook, standing only inches away. She was cute, real cute, though they’d never really hit it off. He took a step back. “Hey, Patricia.”

  She grinned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I go to school here, just like you do.”

  “Not today you don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everybody’s talking about it.”

  Wayne pulled the hood tighter around his face. “I don’t get it. Why’s my missing a day of school such a big deal?”

  “Don’t know. Why are you dressed like that?”

  Wayne glanced around. “I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”

  She giggled. “Well, if you’re trying to skip school, this isn’t exactly the place to do it. Besides, you look like a gangster.”

  “Funny. Anyway, I need to talk to Jimmy.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with me?”

  Wayne’s face grew warm. “Well, sure, but I’m kind of busy right now.”

  He stared at the ground. He was blowing this big time. “What I mean is this is real important.”

  Wayne turned and resumed his walk toward the school.

  “Wait,” Patricia said. “What if you don’t find him?”

  “I’ll leave a note in his locker.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  Patricia put her hands on her hips. “You’re already in trouble. They catch you inside and you’re in deep. Let me do it for you.”

  Wayne glanced across the schoolyard. Patricia was right. It would be safer to let her do it. “All right. Do you have a pen and some paper? I’ll write one up.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? You came here just to leave someone a note, and you didn’t bring anything to do it with?”

  “I didn’t really plan any of this. It’s just sort of happening.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take care of it. But you need to get out of here. We’re starting to draw attention.”

  Wayne glanced around. Some kids were talking and pointing in his direction. He nodded. “See you around.”

  “Wait. What do you want me to tell Jimmy?”

  “Tell him to meet me at the ball field.”

  She shook her head. “Not a good idea. Under the bleachers at the high school would be better.”

  “Okay. And thanks, Patricia. I mean it.”

  She smiled, but didn’t say anything.

  Wayne knew he should be leaving, but instead he looked into Patricia eyes. He’d heard being hungry could do strange things to a person, and he guessed he must be starving. The thought of never seeing Patricia again went through his head and he leaned close and kissed her on the cheek.

  She pushed him away. “Go.”

  Wayne glanced at the school. A small crowd had gathered and now a teacher was coming onto the playground.
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  Wayne turned away and started walking. He heard Patricia tell him to be careful. He quickened his pace, and when he reached the fire station he broke into a run.

  They were on to him. It wouldn’t be safe to meet Jimmy at the ball field or the bleachers. He ran back to old man Langford’s and once he was again on his belly in the weeds he pulled his phone and called Jimmy. He only let it ring a couple times because he knew Jimmy wouldn’t answer. But he’d call back.

  A few seconds later, Jimmy came through.

  “Wayne, what’s up?”

  “There’s been a change of plans. I can’t stay in your garage.”

  “You wised up and decided to go back home?”

  “Not exactly. It was your mom. She almost caught me.”

  “Of all the rotten luck. Are you sure she didn’t see you?”

  “I don’t think so. But she knew somebody was there. She might have called the police.”

  “Aw man. Don’t tell me.”

  “It’s okay. I’m all right. But I have to get out of here. I know what I need to do now.”

  “Go home and forget about it, right?”

  Wayne truly wished he could do that. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to talk to my dad.”

  “So call him on your phone.”

  “It won’t work as well. I need to be there, so I can see his face when I ask him what I done wrong.”

  “Aw, Wayne. You didn’t do nothing.”

  “Well somebody must’ve, else he wouldn’t be gone.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re getting ready to do something really stupid?”

  “I have to, Jimmy. Don’t you understand?”

  “So how are you going to get there? And how will you find him if you do?”

  “I found one of his letters on mom’s desk, and it had an address on it.”

  Footsteps clicked against the road near Langford’s fence.

  “I got to go, Jimmy. I’ll call you later.”

  Wayne turned off the phone and stuck it in his pocket. Whoever was out there started talking. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought one of them might be Chief Stanton.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elliot wore the hard hat the receptionist gave him and walked through a large bay door leading to the work area, a massive metal building behind the office. The address Cheryl Reynolds had given him was for a manufacturing plant on the east side of town.

  An average sized man wearing a clean uniform and a hardhat waved to Elliot and started across the concrete floor of the plant. A few feet in front of Elliot, he stopped and said, “How can I help you, sir?”

  A noisy forklift scooted past and exited through the bay door, disappearing into the yard.

  Elliot couldn’t imagine Gerald working in such an environment. “I’m looking for someone, a former employee of yours, a guy named Stanley Reynolds.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Melba Jean said you were asking about him. What do you want to know?”

  “I need to talk to him, thought maybe you might know where he is, if he got a new job or not.”

  “Does he owe you money or something?”

  “It’s a little more complicated. What happened here? Why did he lose his job?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and when he turned back, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Look, mister. I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but I’ve been told to keep my mouth shut. Besides, the boss man’s coming this way. I’d be careful how I used the name Stanley Reynolds around him.”

  The other man drew near, his face reflecting a mixed bag of emotions. It was lawn-boy, the guy Elliot had encountered at Gerald’s house.

  “Interesting coincidence,” Elliot said, “seeing you here.”

  The first man Elliot had spoken with tried to make an exit, but lawn-boy stopped him. “Get back here, Ben. I might need a witness.” To Elliot he said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “People don’t usually answer rhetorical questions.”

  Lawn-boy whipped out a phone and punched some numbers, but when he spoke, his words were directed at Elliot. “You’ve got about five minutes to get off this property.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  As if on cue, several security guards appeared. “Then I’ll have you escorted from the premises.”

  Elliot glanced at the one called Ben. “Pretty strong reaction to a few questions, wouldn’t you say?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “It looks to me like your boss has something to hide,” Elliot continued.

  Lawn-boy made a gesture and the security detail stepped closer.

  Elliot raised his hands, signaling no conflict, and pushed past the guards. He strode across the concrete floor and exited through the bay door.

  Elliot drove away from the plant. He couldn’t figure Gerald working in such a place, especially with lawn-boy for a boss.

  Later, as Elliot drove along the streets of Stillwater, he found a burger joint and pulled in. As he walked across the parking lot, a car pulled beside him and the window rolled down.

  It was Ben from the plant. “You got a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” Elliot said. “Come on in. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  After they were seated, the man extended his hand across the table. “Name’s Ben, Benjamin Leeds.” He took a bite of burger and washed it down with some soda. “Sorry about the way I acted at the plant. I think you understand, though. If Bogner knew I was here talking to you, I’d have more to worry about than losing my job. Five years, I’m out of there, but right now I need the money. Anyway, what Bogner did to Stanley Reynolds wasn’t right. I don’t want you to think I’m part of it.”

  “Some honest answers might help.”

  Benjamin Leeds turned away, his eyes focusing on something outside the glass wall of the restaurant. When he turned back, he said, “I’ve been at the plant for thirty-five years. Things were pretty good until Darrel took over, nothing like his old man. Nobody likes the jerk, but more to the point of your question, he’s been messing around with Stanley Reynolds’ wife. Everyone knew about it, except for Stan. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it.”

  “Does Bogner have a habit of fooling around?”

  “You got it right, and then some.”

  Elliot took a drink of soda. He wanted to believe this was nothing more than marital problems, but he suspected there was much more to it. “Did Stan deserve to be let go?”

  “Not really. He didn’t set the world on fire or anything, but he did his job well enough.”

  “How long had he been there?”

  “Six or seven months at least.”

  “Sounds like he moved around a lot.”

  Ben shrugged. “That’s the way it is with general labor.”

  Once again, the notion of Gerald working in a manufacturing environment struck Elliot as odd. He’d been good with words, not tools. “What else can you tell me about him?”

  “Not much. He was a quiet sort, kept to himself mostly.”

  Elliot glanced at the table. Ben’s description of Gerald didn’t sound like the bright, energetic journalism student he’d known in school. “How about friends, relatives, hangouts, hobbies, that sort of thing?”

  “This is starting to sound serious. I thought you were just a friend who wanted to talk to Stan, but maybe there’s more to it than that, like maybe he’s really…”

  “Missing?”

  “What’s going on here, Mr. Elliot?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I’ve told you pretty much all I know about it.”

  Neither the face of Benjamin Leeds nor his mannerisms gave any indication of deception. “Thanks for your help,” Elliot said. He gathered his trash and started for the exit.

  Mr. Leeds followed. “I do remember something. It might not mean anything, but…”

  Elliot kept walking. “I’m listening.”

  “It’
s about Stan’s car. He always kept it clean, but the last few days before he got canned, it was full of stuff, not messy, but like maybe he’d been living out of it or something.”

  Elliot threw the trash into the container. He’d wondered about Gerald’s transportation, if he’d driven his own car to Tulsa, or if he’d hired a rental. “What kind of car was it?”

  “A 1989 Cadillac DeVille, sort of beige-colored, not restored or anything, but it ran good, real smooth. Cars are a hobby of mine.”

  Elliot pushed through the restaurant door and stepped outside. Cheryl Reynolds had not mentioned her husband had been living out of his car. However, she had made a point about his getting phone calls from an old girlfriend. “How did Stan feel about the relationship? Did he ever stray outside the marriage, or express an interest to?”

  Ben shook his head. “Not that I know of, unless you count Terri Hill out at the plant. She and Stan had lunch together occasionally, but it didn’t look like anything romantic, just friends I’d say.”

  The name caught Elliot’s attention. Gerald had known Terri Benson before Laura had come along, and they continued to hang out together after Laura had disappeared.

  Ben Leeds looked as if he’d swallowed something bitter. “I’m starting to get a real bad feeling about this.”

  “That makes two of us,” Elliot said. “Do you know of anything, other than the affair, that caused Stan to get on the wrong side of Bogner?”

  The look on Ben’s face said he hadn’t intended to get himself in this deep. “They had an argument right in the middle of the shop floor a few days ago. I assumed it was about the affair, but I don’t know for sure.”

  Elliot considered confronting Bogner about it, but decided the time wasn’t right. “This friend Stan had lunch with, her maiden name wouldn’t happen to be Benson, would it?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Elliot. But she hasn’t been to work in a couple days. She called in sick.”

  Elliot remembered Terri Benson leaning toward the eccentric side of life. “Any idea of how I could get in touch with her?”

  Chapter Fourteen