Footprints of a Dancer (Detective Elliot Mystery) (15 page)

“You’re just who I was looking for,” Elliot said. “We didn’t finish our conversation about Stanley Reynolds.”

Bogner frowned. “I got nothing to say to you.” He leaned over to one of the pool-playing ladies. “If I kick this idiot’s ass, will you give me a kiss?”

The lady giggled.

Bogner slammed his beer down on the table and came forward.

The move surprised Elliot. Bogner came at him from a slight angle, not something a rookie would do. But Bogner carried a false sense of security. He’d been to a few dances, might’ve even made it to the floor a few times, but, like most novices, if the music got complicated he’d quickly lose the beat. Elliot faked right with his head but took a step to his left.

The movement caught Bogner off guard, and his right-cross bulleted through the air, missing its mark. His surprised face hung over his left shoulder like a target.

Elliot planted a straight right halfway between lawn-boy’s forehead and his nose.

Bogner let out a wail and stumbled backward, reinforcing his lack of experience by covering his busted nose with both hands, leaving his body exposed and unprotected.

Elliot had been right about Bogner. He was no newcomer to trouble, but, being a big guy, he’d relied on the advantage, leaving his fighting skills at a rudimentary level. Elliot lowered his hands. Even though he’d taken an immediate dislike to Darrel Bogner, he didn’t have the heart to continue. It was just too easy. Instead, he pinned him against the wall. “Welcome to Saturday night, lawn-boy. Now, do we talk, or should I ask the band to strike up another tune?”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth, lover boy.”

“No big deal. I’m not going to lie to you. So I’ve been doing the bad thing with your friend’s wife. You want me to stay away from her? You got it. Problem solved, right?”

“It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying?”

Elliot shoved him harder against the wall. “A fling wasn’t enough for you. You wanted it all. So you killed Reynolds to get him out of the way.”

Bogner’s complexion became a mixture of white and pink splotches. “You got it all wrong. I didn’t kill nobody. Why do you want to go and say something like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you were sleeping with his wife. You were seen fighting with him. You fired him from his job.”

“I didn’t do it. I swear to God.”

“It’s all pointing in your direction, slick.”

“I know how it looks, but I let Stan go because he deserved it. To be honest, I think the guy must have snapped or something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’d been acting all crazy, you know, not doing his job, and all the talk about curses and stuff. What’s a guy supposed to think?”

“Don’t toy with me, Bogner.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll level with you. Cheryl asked me about it once.”

Elliot loosened his grip. “Are you telling me Cheryl Reynolds asked you to kill her husband?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. She asked me about it, that’s all. I told her it was stupid. It’s all about some dumb prenuptial thing. I don’t know the details. She didn’t want no divorce, said it wasn’t a viable option.”

“You better be playing it straight, Bogner. That kind of testimony could put somebody away.”

“I didn’t kill anybody. That’s all I’m trying to tell you.”

“Maybe she got somebody else to do it.”

A mixture of worry and doubt showed on Bogner’s face. “I don’t think so. I told her it was a dumb idea. She’s just blowing smoke anyway. That’s what I think.”

Elliot felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, brother, need any help?”

It was the biker.

“Thanks, but the situation is under control.”

“You might want to reconsider,” the biker said. He pointed toward the door.

Two uniformed officers had come into the bar.

“Just keep your head down,” the biker said, “and follow me.”

At the moment, complying with the biker seemed to be Elliot’s best plan of action. He shrugged and walked behind the stranger, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he passed the officers.

Outside the club, the biker climbed onto his own Harley, fired it up and headed south.

Elliot didn’t know if it was out of curiosity, wondering who the biker was and why he’d helped, or just a gut feeling the guy knew something about Gerald, but he followed him, staying close on his tail.

A few miles later, the biker pulled off the road onto a concrete parking area in front of a large metal building, a garage or storage unit.

As soon as Elliot pulled into the lot, the biker drove around the building, the sound of his engine coming to a stop seconds later.

Elliot pulled the Glock and checked it for readiness. He slid the weapon back into its holster and coaxed the Harley along the same path his strange new acquaintance had followed.

He found the biker sitting on his ride, lighting a cigarette. He held out the package of smokes, a gesture of sharing.

Elliot shook his head. He understood why the biker had chosen the spot. Due to the positioning of the building and natural growth of trees, nothing behind the garage was visible from the road. Several old engine blocks and a few bike frames made up a small junk pile.

“Thanks for the help,” Elliot said. “But why did you do it?”

The biker shrugged. “You pack a wicked right hand. Never seen old Bogner back down so easy.”

“His kind usually do when put to the test.”

The biker grinned. “Did you have a beef with Bogner, or do you just go around looking for trouble?”

Elliot wasn’t sure why he was compelled to level with the biker, but he pulled his badge.

The biker leaned forward and studied the credentials. “A homicide detective? If you’re a cop, why did you run back there?”

“I’m a little out of my jurisdiction.”

“I didn’t know you guys took your turf so seriously.”

“It kind of depends on the situation.”

“What kind of situation are we talking about?”

Elliot shook his head. “It’s your turn to play the identity game.”

The biker took a drag on his cigarette. “People call me Jake.”

“Is that your name?”

He smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You tell me. You seem to know Bogner pretty well. What’s your connection?”

“I see him at Harry’s now and then.”

“He a friend of yours?”

“Not exactly.”

Elliot studied the terrain while the sound of a passing vehicle filtered through the air. The biker didn’t seem to be lying, but he wasn’t playing it completely straight either. “Why did you help me out back there?”

“I was under the impression I was honoring the code, helping out a fellow man of the road. Guess I was wrong though.”

Elliot smiled. “So what happens now?”

“Hey, anyone who rides a Harley can’t be all bad. You might want to stick around a few minutes, though. They’re probably looking for you out there.”

“Maybe,” Elliot said, “but I don’t think Bogner told them anything.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“He had a run in with a man named Stanley Reynolds, a guy I’m looking for. While I’m on the subject, does the name Reynolds mean anything to you?”

“Can’t say it does.”

Elliot repositioned himself on the seat of the Harley. “Are you sure? I thought, with your being friends with Bogner and all, you might know something about his conflict with Mr. Reynolds.”

A somber expression came over the biker’s face. “I wish I could help, but I can’t. Anyway, I’m heading back to the bar. You can tag along if you want.”

“I’m not sure I like the plan. Do you have more information to share?”

Jake shrugged. “Keeping beneath the radar seems to work for me. You might give it a try.”

“I think I’ll pass on the bar.”

“Can’t say as I blame you,” Jake said. When he leaned forward, a silver chain spilled from his shirt. Swinging from it, attached by a silver and turquoise bracket, was an arrowhead.

Elliot glanced at the jewelry. It wasn’t unusual in Oklahoma for people to wear such things, but the blend of silver and turquoise piqued Elliot’s curiosity. “I once knew a girl who was interested in jewelry like that.”

Jake held the arrowhead between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing the artifact. In addition, three silver and turquoise rings decorated his hand. “I’d love to stick around and chat with you, but I really need to be going.”

“Her name was Bradford. Laura Bradford. Maybe you knew her?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Jake said. He kicked the Harley to life and revved it a couple times. After bringing it back to an idle, he added, “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Jake twisted the throttle and the Harley lumbered toward the pathway leading back to the road.

Elliot fired up his own ride and did the same, the rear tire of the bike grabbing for traction against the rock and grass as he neared the drive. Jake, the biker, had him puzzled. He wanted to like him, but at the same time, he didn’t trust him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

At Eskimo Joe’s, a bar and grill in Stillwater, Elliot sat in the area created by an arched section of tinted glass attached to the side of the old rock building on Elm Street. It was where he and his friends used to meet, and he figured Terri Benson would look for him there.

A few minutes later, she showed up, dressed in her usual gothic attire. She tried to smile as she sat, but her pain showed through.

“Thanks for coming,” Elliot said. “I ordered you a cheeseburger, like you asked.”

She wiggled out of her jacket and hung it on the chair beside her. “Thanks, I’m starved.”

Terri’s demeanor was different than when Elliot had spoken with her at the bar. An aura of sadness still hung around her, but she seemed sharp and alert, more like the girl he remembered.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I want to ask you about someone I ran into at Harry’s, a tall, biker, goes by the name of Jake.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him there a couple of times.”

“What’s his story?”

“I don’t know really. He’s kind of new, hasn’t been around for long.”

It was pretty much what Elliot had expected. If Jake had been just another bad boy from Stillwater, Terri would’ve known him, or at least about him.

“Why do you ask? Does he know something about Gerald?”

“I’m not sure. I had a run in with him earlier. Something about him doesn’t seem right, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

“This is where Gerald and I used to eat,” Terri said. A look somewhere between hope and despair crossed her face, as she glanced around the room, and when her gaze once again found Elliot’s, her eyes glistened. “I can’t be here if Laura shows up, especially if Gerald’s with her. I’m not strong enough. I wish I could make you understand.”

Elliot reached across the table and squeezed Terri’s hand. “I can promise you that’s not going to happen.”

Terri’s expression reflected puzzlement, and a current of doubt showed through as well. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I had a look around the old house outside of town, the one you told me about.”

“She’s still there, isn’t she? You found her.”

Elliot averted his eyes and looked at the table. Terri asked the question as if she thought the answer could actually be yes. “She’s dead, Terri. Laura Bradford is dead.”

“No. You’re wrong about that. She was in the car with Gerald.”

“You said it was dark. It was someone else.”

She shook her head. “I know what I saw.”

Elliot took the silver and turquoise earring from his pocket and placed it on the table. He didn’t tell Terri he’d found it at the abandoned house site in Tulsa, or that her eyes were not failing her because he and Gerald had also encountered the ghost of Laura Bradford. “I found her remains beneath a stack of rocks behind the old house. I found this, too. It’s the same jewelry she was wearing the last time we saw her. Laura didn’t disappear back when we were in school. She was murdered.”

The hurt in Terri’s eyes convinced Elliot to take it one step further. “I didn’t tell you earlier but I’ve recently seen Laura too. Think about it, Terri. When you saw her, did it feel right, or did it seem more than a little odd, even dream-like?”

Terri started to protest but a reflection of realization showed connections were starting to form and a painful question came across her face.

Elliot didn’t want to answer it but he had to. “Laura stumbled onto some information someone was willing to kill to protect. Gerald knew something about it, too. Why the killer waited so long to go after him, I don’t know. Someone must have started looking into it again.”

With the help of tears that had started to form, Terri’s fragile and caring face managed to show through her gothic disguise. “What about Gerald? Is he dead, too?”

“I’m sorry, Terri. But it’s possible, even likely that he is.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t pieced it together yet, but it has something to do with Angela Gardner.”

After a long period of silence, she said. “We need to find her, don’t we?”

Elliot knew Terri had spent time and energy diverting her thoughts away from the past, and now here he was, bringing it all up again. “I already have. She’s in the hospital. I tried to talk to her, but she kept drifting in and out of coherency. I got the feeling it was normal for her.”

“Angela did it? She killed them?”

“I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel right.”

Terri’s pasty complexion lost a little more color. She nodded, a slow up and down motion. “It’s Laura, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elliot said.

“I’m not. You said you saw her too.”

“I’m a cop, Terri, a homicide detective. A job like that forces you to embrace the tangible side of life.”

“Two of our friends are dead and another is in the hospital with mental problems. I get it now. You called this little meeting not to resurrect old times but to warn me that you and I could be next.”

Elliot glanced at the table. “I don’t want to make things more difficult for you, but the thought has crossed my mind.”

“Have you talked to the police? I mean the local guys. They should know about this, right?”