Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery)

by Bob Avey

  Angela stopped speaking. She relaxed her grip on Elliot’s hand and fell limply to the bed.

  Doctor Shaffer ushered Elliot aside.

  Other hospital personnel and people arrived, but among the faces that surrounded Angela’s bed, two stood out. Elliot stared into the sad and knowing eyes of George and Emma Gardner. And though the room was filled with people, it was empty of conversation, with the only sound coming from the heart monitor as its mournful cry indicated a flat-line of the patient. Angela Gardner was gone.

  Elliot responded to a tap on his shoulder and when he turned he saw Angela, scared and confused. If he had not seen her body on the bed, he might have thought she’d made a recovery and had gotten up to go to the bathroom or to get a glass of water. She had sought him out before. Why shouldn’t she come to him now?

  Elliot said nothing, but Angela seemed to catch the meaning of the words he would have spoken had he not been surrounded by others who would not understand. A peaceful look came over her as she fixed her gaze on something and she faded away.

  A wave of dizziness came over Elliot. He reached for support, finding Pastor Meadows’ shoulder and with the pastor’s help, stumbled from the room.

  Outside in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and drew his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away the perspiration. In a short amount of time, he and Angela Gardner had become close, forging a bond beyond the boundaries of friendship, even surpassing the rapport shared by family members.

  Pastor Meadows squeezed Elliot’s arm. “She found her way, son. She was right with God. I’m sure of it.”

  “Did you hear what she said?”

  “I’m not Catholic,” Pastor Meadows said, “but I’ve heard my share of confessions. People facing death seldom lie about such things.”

  “I didn’t see it coming.”

  “It’s easy to get caught off guard in such a situation. And the way she went. She seemed ill but….”

  Elliot nodded. It was as if Angela had waited for his arrival, and after purging her soul had given up and let go of the life that remained in her. Facing the reality of her own demons had been too much for her.

  “We need to talk more about this,” Pastor Meadows said, “later, when you’ve had time to let it digest. Call, or come by my office.”

  Elliot put on his coat and started down the hallway, Angela’s words still ringing in his head. I killed her, Kenny.

  Angela’s thoughts had been jumbled and her words cryptic, but the message had come through with clarity. She’d confessed to murder. Eight years ago, when they were still in school, she’d killed Laura Bradford.

  Elliot reached the elevator and jabbed the button. He’d have to contact Ryan and let him know about this.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Elliot had chosen the restaurant, a high-end hamburger joint on 71st Street. “How’s this?” he asked, aiming the question at whoever might answer.

  Wayne shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”

  Carmen nodded her agreement as well.

  At the hospital, Elliot had called Ryan and left a message, explaining that he needed to talk to him concerning Angela Gardner. After that, he’d driven home and spent a few hours repairing the flattened truck tires. It’d been good therapy. With his head somewhat cleared, he’d convinced Carmen to reschedule their date night, or just having dinner, as she put it.

  After the waiter had taken their order, Elliot studied the black and white photographs decorating the walls, some reflecting streets and buildings from 1930’s Chicago. He noticed Carmen watching him, so he brought his attention back to the table. “Thanks for rescheduling,” he said. “It means a lot to me.”

  “Are you still working the case that has you so involved?”

  She trailed the question off, her expression reflecting her dismay at having brought up the subject.

  As if sensing his mother’s discomfort, Wayne seized the opportunity. “Have you ever shot anybody, Mr. Elliot?”

  “Wayne….”

  Wayne’s question, spoken with a volume typical of a boy his age, drew the attention of several nearby tables.

  A vision of Ralph Kincaid’s tormented face played through Elliot’s memory. Of all the times he’d had to use his service weapon, that one haunted him the most.

  His cell phone came to his rescue. He’d turned down the ring volume, but in the quiet that’d come over the restaurant, it still made a disturbance. The caller ID showed it was Detective Ryan.

  “I really need to take this,” he said. He wiggled from the booth and strode across the lobby. Outside, he brought the phone to his ear. “This is Elliot.”

  “Yeah, let’s talk about why you called.” Ryan’s voice was quick, irritated.

  “I have some information for you,” Elliot said. “It has to do with the old case.”

  “Say what you mean, Elliot. I don’t have time for games.”

  “This is no game, Ryan. I tracked down Angela Gardner. Check your notes. She was one of the students you interviewed while you were checking on Stephens.”

  “If there’s a point to all of this, I wish you would get to it.”

  “Angela Gardner killed Laura Bradford. She confessed to it.”

  The phone seemed to go dead, but it was just Ryan, trying to find the words. “Do you have her in custody?”

  “She’s dead, passed away right after she told me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But, hey, you found my killer for me. It’s sad it turned out like this, but I can’t deny my relief. It’s time the old case was put to rest.”

  Elliot squeezed the phone. There was no question Ryan wanted all of this to go away. “The case isn’t over, Ryan, not even close.”

  Elliot watched a couple teenagers dressed in baggy pants walk into the restaurant. Ryan hadn’t replied, so he continued. “Angela killed Laura, but she didn’t have anything to do with the other murders.”

  “Are we back to that again? What makes you so sure those drifters didn’t… well, just drift off again?” Ryan’s question sounded more like a plea than a belief, an expression of his desire for this thing to be over.

  “I have my ways.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Now, if you have additional information pertinent to the case, I need to know about it.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Come on, Elliot, you drop a bombshell on me and go silent? What are you saying, that Angela had an accomplice?”

  Elliot watched the sloppily-dressed kids leave the restaurant and stroll across the parking lot. “In a manner of speaking, except it was the other way around. Angela would have been the accomplice.”

  “I still think you know more about all of this than you should. Putting that aside though, do you have any idea who it might have been?”

  “My guess would be Professor David Stephens,” Elliot said. “Do you know where he is?”

  “What makes you think Stephens had anything to do with it?”

  “You had him under investigation. A cop like you wouldn’t do that without a reason. Now you get all defensive every time I bring up his name.”

  There was no answer.

  “Come on, Ryan. What’s up?”

  Again, the phone was silent. Ryan had disconnected.

  Elliot shoved the phone into his pocket and went back inside the restaurant.

  The food had arrived, but neither Carmen nor Wayne had touched it.

  Elliot slid into the booth. “Sorry about the disturbance. But you shouldn’t have waited for me.” He held the phone out so they could see him switch it off. “No more interruptions. I promise.”

  Carmen shook her head. “Your work is important to you. That is how it should be.”

  Elliot picked up his burger and had it halfway to his mouth when Carmen nudged him.

  “Would you like to say the blessing?” She asked.

  Elliot flushed. He put his sandwich back on the plate and wiped his hands. “Sure.” He bowed his head a
nd put together a short prayer. As soon as Elliot had finished, Wayne, who’d been showing obvious enjoyment over Elliot’s predicament, began eating. It was nice, like being in a real family. “So how’s school going?” Elliot asked.

  Wayne shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  Elliot hadn’t been around his son much, something he regretted, but still he could tell something wasn’t right with him.

  “What about the play?” Carmen said. “Why don’t you tell…Mr. Elliot about it?”

  Wayne’s expression reflected apprehension. “Aw, mom.”

  “I have some friends who are involved with acting,” Elliot said. “It takes a lot of courage and determination.”

  Carmen smiled at Elliot’s attempt to encourage Wayne. “He wants to write and create screenplays someday.”

  “I’ve always thought it’d be cool to be a writer, too,” Elliot said, “but so far all I’ve managed to crank out are a few police reports, and according to my captain I haven’t done all that well with them.”

  Wayne made an effort to hide his smile.

  “I’m proud of you, son. More than you’ll ever know.”

  Wayne and Carmen exchanged glances.

  Elliot wiped his hands on his napkin. He’d slipped with his word choice, and neither Wayne nor Carmen seemed comfortable with it. The episode left him feeling, and not for the first time, like an outsider. “Well,” he said, “now that we’re on the subject of screenplays, why don’t we go see one, a movie that is? You can pick the flick, Wayne, if it’s okay with your mother.”

  Carmen’s expression showed she was uncertain about the prospect.

  “That’d be neat. Could we, Mom?”

  Carmen gave Elliot a look he could not read. She glanced at her watch. “I guess it would be all right. But we’ll have to hurry. Wayne has school tomorrow. He shouldn’t stay up too late.”

  Elliot signaled for the waiter and after settling the bill they left the restaurant. A few minutes later, they walked into the lobby of the theater, a cinema complex just off 101st and Memorial.

  Wayne scanned the billboards and studied the digital display screens that showed an offering of animated stories, a couple of superhero flicks, and a few action-adventure stories. He kept looking until he found something that pleased him, a science-fiction film involving time travel.

  The Parental Guidance rating concerned Carmen, but Wayne’s pleading eyes finally won her approval. She glanced at Elliot. “It’s what he likes.”

  “Can I have popcorn?”

  “You hardly touched your dinner.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t hungry then.”

  Elliot gained Carmen’s visual approval, dug a ten dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Wayne. “Go for it, sport.”

  A crowd of people buzzed around the concession area. Wayne would be a few minutes. As soon as the boy was out of hearing range, Elliot turned to Carmen. “Is something bothering Wayne? I realize he’s uncomfortable around me, but he seems more distracted than usual.”

  She glanced at the concession area. “He’s having trouble with all of this, trying to come to terms with your being his father. I should have told him sooner. I had no idea he’d take it so hard.”

  “You’re doing fine. Nobody really knows how to deal with this kind of thing. Wayne will come around. He’s a good boy. And he couldn’t ask for a better mother. Anybody can see how well you’ve done with him.”

  She shook her head. “He says he wants to go and stay for a while with his father… Anthony, I mean.”

  Tears formed in her eyes but she fought them back. “I don’t want him to go. He’s all I have.”

  Carmen’s words shot a current of pain through Elliot’s chest. “I don’t think he really wants to leave. His motivation is the same as when he ran away, to get things back the way they were, his family the way he remembers it. He thinks this might make it happen.”

  Carmen pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. “I called Anthony and tried to talk to him about it. He wasn’t receptive to the idea. I thought he might talk to Wayne, make him feel better about the separation. He wouldn’t even do that. He doesn’t want anything to do with us. As far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance, but Wayne doesn’t feel the same way.”

  Elliot stared at Carmen, unsure of what to say, and whether it was the right time or not, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but before he could act, Wayne came running over. He grabbed Carmen’s arm and tugged her toward the theater. “Come on. We’re going to miss it.”

  The film turned out to be one that left the room dark most of the time. Elliot thought it was a good thing, since the lack of light hid their emotions. About halfway through the movie, Carmen slipped her hand into his.

  Elliot closed his eyes and prayed for it to be real, for Carmen to want him as much as he wanted her.

  A little later, she leaned close and whispered, “You’re a good man, Kenny Wayne Elliot.”

  Elliot meditated on her words, trying to determine what, if anything might be in them, all the while searching for something to say in return. “Then what’s keeping us apart?” he asked.

  Carmen didn’t answer, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

  Elliot sank back into the theater seat, relishing for the moment the feeling of things being right in his world.

  He should have known it wouldn’t last. After the movie let out, he walked with Carmen and Wayne into the lobby where he saw a familiar face in the crowd, just a brief glance he caught before the guy, who looked and moved a lot like the biker from Stillwater, pushed through the doors and stepped outside.

  Elliot thought about going after him, but the peaceful look on Carmen’s face caused him to rethink his options. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him anyway. It could have been anyone.

  Near the exit, in a corner of the lobby, a coin operated photo booth caught Elliot’s attention and he thought back to an earlier time.

  Carmen’s mother had taken them to the mall in Tulsa where they had come upon an older version of the device now in front of them. Carmen had begged Elliot to go inside with her to have pictures taken together. She’d hung those photos on the wall of her bedroom.

  Elliot tugged at Carmen’s arm and guided her toward the booth.

  “What are you doing now?” Wayne asked.

  Elliot stopped in front of the machine. “Your mother used to get quite a kick out of these things.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Carmen said. She held her arms up as if measuring Elliot’s shoulders. “I doubt you would fit anyway.”

  Wayne giggled.

  “Laugh it up, sport. We’re all three going in.”

  “You’re on,” Wayne said. “Could we, mom?”

  Elliot fed some money into the machine, went inside and poked his head through the curtain. “Don’t make me come out there.”

  Carmen shook her head but her resistance was superficial at best, and soon she relented and squeezed in as well.

  With Carmen on one knee and Wayne on the other, Elliot pushed the ready button.

  As soon as the process had finished, Wayne scrambled out of the machine and grabbed the snapshots. He laughed as Elliot and his mother struggled from the booth, though his smile went flat as he settled down and began to examine the photos.

  A current of disappointment ran through Elliot. He’d hoped Wayne might find the experience interesting, a good thing, not something to further dampen his spirits.

  Wayne removed his attention from the photos and handed the snapshots to Elliot.

  Curious as to what had caused Wayne’s sudden mood swing, Elliot examined the photos, and has he drew the glossy shots close and ran his gaze across them he began to realize the source of Wayne’s reaction. He glanced at Carmen.

  She held his gaze for a moment, closed her eyes and nodded.

  Elliot had, of course, noticed the resemblance, but seeing the boy’s face in close proximity to his own on the photographs
was something he wasn’t prepared for. He and Wayne were practically identical, adjusting for the age of course.

  Carmen slid her arm around Elliot’s. “We should be going.”

  Outside the theater, as they crossed the parking lot, the roar of an automobile that sounded a lot like the one Elliot had heard leaving his neighborhood after its driver had flattened his truck tires grabbed his attention. He thought of Jake, the biker from Stillwater. Was it possible he’d been following him? The idea made little sense, and yet Elliot couldn’t bring himself to completely reject the notion.

  Chapter Thirty

  Somewhere around 9:00 PM, after dropping off Wayne and Carmen, Elliot rolled back into Tulsa. It’d been an uncomfortable ride, with long stretches of silence in between Wayne’s questions about football and being a cop.

  The evening left Elliot considering a lot of things, most of it dealing with family, which reminded him he needed to follow up on Shane Conley. Shane’s connection to the case, if there was one, still had him baffled. Instead of going home, Elliot drove to Conley’s neighborhood. However, as he neared the front door, he relived the events leading up to Sergeant Conley being shot to death by a madman named Ralph Kincaid. It happened every time he came here. He was about to turn and walk away, but before he could, the door opened and Susan Conley stood in front of him. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

  She appeared to be in better condition this time. “That’s pretty good,” Elliot said, “considering I didn’t know I was coming until a few minutes ago.”

  “I guess I know you better than you realize. It isn’t surprising. David talked of you often.”

  “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Susan turned and walked away, disappearing into the house.

  Elliot found her, sitting on the sofa in the living room. “Can I get you anything,” she asked, “coffee, or a drink?”

  “No, thanks,” Elliot said. Her mentioning alcohol concerned him. He didn’t want to see a repeat of her last performance. “I need to talk to Shane. Is he here?”