La Danza Morte', Robert F. Clifton [best e book reader android TXT] 📗

your first name for my report.”

“It's Roger.”

“Thank you sir.”

When Wallace got off of the telephone Frank Stiles asked, What did Chicago have to say?”

“They're looking into it. Hopefully we'll hear something in a day or two,” said Wallace.

“What now?,asked Frank.

“Time to close a couple of lose ends. I'll be at the Convention Center if anyone needs me.”

“Don't tell me that you're going to watch rehearsal again.”

“No, I want to talk to Lou Crawford.”

“Who's he?”

“A janitor at the Center. He might have something to say.

The area he's assigned to is near the dressing rooms. Maybe, just maybe he saw something the night Gabriela was killed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No Frank. There's no need for both of us to talk to him.”

“O.K.”

Wallace drove the unmarked, black, Chrysler sedan through light traffic as he headed for the Convention Center located on the boardwalk. Now, late October the majority of the tourist trade was gone, only a handful remained and they were those who were members of small convention.

He drove down the incline that led to the parking garage constructed under the Center. Since there was plenty of parking spaces he chose one close to the elevator. After parking and locking the car he rode the elevator to the main floor lobby. When the elevator car stopped and the doors opened he stepped off and began walking towards the office of the Chief Of Security. As he did he heard the muffled sounds of the ballet orchestra playing. By now he knew which act they were dancing to just by the sound of the music. At that moment they were rehearsing Act Three. He walked up to the office door, knocked once and entered. Ed Kogan, a retired Nautilus Beach Uniformed Sergeant had taken the job as Chief of Security. He looked up from one of the monitors he had been watching and said, “Wally, what the hell are you doing here? I haven't seen you for some time. You must want something,” said Kogan.

“You're right. You have a janitor working here by the name of Louis Crawford. If you can tell me where he is, I'd like to talk to him.”

“Who ever told you that this Crawford guy works as a janitor here, they're full of shit. We don't have janitors. The city leases with a cleaning company. If this Crawford guy worked for them, you'll have to talk to their supervisors.”

“Damn! Do you happen to know which cleaning company was hired?”

“No, but the city purchasing agent would know. You'll have to talk to her.”

“Fine. I just noticed something. When did the Convention Center install security monitors?, asked Wallace.

“About this time last year. Seems they got a grant of some kind.”

“Do you keep the recorded tapes?”

“Not usually, but sometimes. Guys on the night shift have a habit of tuning into a porn channel that mysteriously can be picked up with the same signal we use. They asked me not to report it.”

“Do you tape over?”

“Sure, the city only gives me so many tapes a year.”

“Do you have a camera set up back stage, near the dressing rooms?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact one of my guards had a camera installed in the dressing room used by the girl chorus dancers. I had that taken out. All I needed was a civil suit for the city, plus

my ass would have been in a sling.”

“Do you date the recording?”

“The machine does it automatically, date and time.”

“I don't have time right now, but I'd like to look for a tape recorded on or about September eleven or twelfth.”

“I doubt if we still have that tape, but I'll look for it. If I find it, I'll give you a call.”

“Thanks Ed. Can I use you telephone? I want to call the Purchasing Agent.”

“Sure go ahead.”

Thirty five minutes later Wallace parked the unmarked radio car in front of Gorman's Janitorial Service And Supply.

When he walked inside he was met by a woman with gray hair and wearing eyeglasses. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes. I'm Detective Wallace, Nautilus Beach Police. Are you the proprietor?”, he said showing bade abd I.D..

“Yes I am. What's on your mind?”

“I'm looking for an employee of yours, a Louis Crawford. I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find him.”

“I don't have anyone by that name working for me. Sorry.

“That's odd. I spoke to a man who said he was one of the janitors at the Convention Center. He told me his name was Louis Crawford.”
“That might be, but he's not one of mine. How as he dressed?”

“Grey coveralls, black baseball cap, tennis shoes.”

“My crew wear white coveralls. My logo, Gorman's Janitorial Service is embroidered on the back with blue letters.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

“You're welcome

At four fifty pm Wallace unlocked the door to the condominium and went inside. When he did he saw Natasha's suitcase and travel bag in the hallway. Walking into the den he saw her standing, looking out through the pane glass door at the ocean. She turned at looked him. “Hi,” she said.

“Hello. I see you've packed,” he replied.

“Yes. I'm afraid I'll have to spend tonight at the hotel. That way I can leave with the troupe.”

“Well, if you have to, you have to. I'll drive you there of course.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Do you have time to eat something?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Neither am I. Right now, I don't have much of an appetite. I'm going to ask you one more time to stay.”

“Please don't. Leaving is hard enough. I don't need you adding to it.”

“Well, should you change your mind where-ever you are I'll come and get you. I love you Natasha.”

“I know you do. Robert, this is getting more difficult by the minute. Can we go to the hotel now?”

“Yes, if that's what you want.”

During the drive to the Trinidad Hotel neither one of them spoke a word. Wallace turned into the portico allowing room for other vehicles. Then he turned to her. “Well, I guess this is it. This time tomorrow you'll be in Pittsburgh.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything Robert. I'll miss you, but like I've said there's the telephone, mail and don't forget, airlines. Now, kiss me good by,” she said.

He took her in his arms and kissed her not wanting to let go. He released her, looked at her one more time then opened the car door and got out to get her luggage. As he did. Natasha walked slowly into the hotel lobby not looking back. Wallace handed the suitcase and travel bag to a bellman who stood waiting.

Robert got back in the sedan, started the engine and then drove off, heading back to a now empty apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Pittsburgh

 

On Monday, November 6, 1972 at 10:30 am Detective Robert Wallace received a telephone call from Detective Sergeant Edward Cassidy. Captain Llewellyn told me to contact you in reference to an arrest I made a couple of years ago. The guy was Lester Cummings. If you give me your departments fax number I can send you a copy of the entire case,” said Cassidy.

“That would be great the number is 609-555-3327. While I got you on the line can you brief me on the case?”, asked Wallace.

“ Sure, it was during the month of May, 1970. There was an argument between two lovers. The argument got heated and Cummings struck the victim several times. She was treated at the emergency room where she made a complaint. The charge was originally Atrocious Assault and Battery, However, in court the judge downgraded to charge to simple assault and battery.

Cummings was found guilty, fined a hundred dollars and given thirty days in the county jail, but that was reascended. He was also ordered to stay away from the victim.”

“I see. This Cummings guy. What's his occupation?”

“At the time I arrested him he was a dancer.”

“What kind of a dancer?”

“I believe it was ballet, but I'm not certain.

“And, what is the name of the complainant?”

“Helen Dubcek.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“It seems to me that she was a dancer in some ballet company. I recall that her name popped up once in awhile complaining about being stalked by Cummings. As far as I know he was never busted for stalking or any other charge. Not by us anyway. That's about it.”

“Well, that's more than I had yesterday. Thanks for calling,” said Wallace.

“No problem, I'll fax you the copy of the file”.

“Thanks again.”

After he hung up the telephone, He opened the Brunsdorff file and seeing the telephone for the Harry Brummel Agency dialed the number then waited.

“Brummel Agency, this is Ann. How may I help you?”

“This is Detective Robert Wallace. Mr. Brummel knows who I am. If he's in. I want to speak to him”.

“One moment please.”

Three minutes later Brummel came on the line. “Officer Wallace. What can I do for you?”

“Tell me what you know about Helen Dubcek.”

“So, you found out her real, first name.”

“That and a few other things. Why does she go by Natasha.”

“That's show business. The name Helen is not as attention getting as is the name Natasha. The girl comes from Polish stock , so the last name Dubcek can be seen by ballet fans as either Russian or Eastern European. Add the first name, Natasha and the audiences begin to believe that the young woman they watch dancing is on loan from the Moscow Ballet Company. Things like that sell tickets. It happens all the time. Cary Grant's real name was Archibald Leach.”

“I see. I have information that she was being stalked. The first time was in Chicago. What can you tell me about it?”

“All I can tell you is some guy named Lester is infatuated with Natasha. They went together for awhile then Natasha broke it off when she was hired to dance for Baranovsky. Evidently, the guy became possessive to the point that he made demands. When she rejected him he went berserk and beat her up. She filed a complaint. The guy was arrested. After that according to her he's been stalking her ever since.”

` “I see. Well thank you for the information.”

“You're welcome. Are you any closer to solving Gabriela's murder.”

“Yes sir, we're almost ready to wrap it up.”

Right after Wallace hung up his telephone it rang. “Major Crime Squad, Detective Wallace”, he said.

“Wally? Ed Kogan. I took a look at our video tapes. I might have something you might want ot take a look at.”

“What is it?”

“I go a tape dated September ninth. On it there appears to be a guy hanging around the ballerina's dressing room. You can't make out the face, but he's dressed in coveralls and wearing a baseball cap.”

“Can I have it?”

“Sure. Tell you what. Have a radio car crew stop and pick it up. When you're finished. Give it back.”

“It might be awhile.”

“I don't care. Take your time with it.”

“Thanks Ed.”

“You're welcome. Talk to you later.”

One hour later Frank Stiles placed the recorded tape in the VCR then pushed the PLAY button. When the tape began to play there was a few seconds of some pornography movie which quickly changed into a ghostly, black and white recording of the Convention Center's Ballroom hallway outside of the dressing rooms. As the two detectives watched, the figure of a man appeared. The baseball cap on his head was pulled down low hiding most of his face. He wore what could be described as coveralls. The man stopped outside of the door, looked around, turned the doorknob and when the door opened he entered. the room.

“Stop!”, said Wallace to Stiles.

“Stiles stopped the tape from playing. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Let me write down the time he entered the dressing room. The tape says September 9, 1972, 20:46. O.K.

Start it up again.”

“The tape playing again revealed nothing but a long, empty, hallway. Then the figure of the man came into view as he came out of the room with his back to the security camera.The time on the tape was 20:51.

“Well, that was a waste