Dance Till You Die (7 page)

“Whatever you say, Lonnie.” The- doorman's thick arm muscles bulged as he lifted several large pumpkins and carried them to the back wall.

Lonnie sighed. “I always have to tell Lucas everything twice. He's a good bouncer because he intimidates everyone with his size, but he's not too swift up here,” Lonnie said, tapping his head.

“It looks like you've almost got everything ready for Halloween,” Nancy said, wanting to guide him back to the subject of Bess's abduction.

Lonnie nodded. “Tonight's just the preview,
but tomorrow we're throwing a huge Halloween bash. It'll be a costume party, of course, and we're pulling out all the stops. There'll even be a five-hundred-dollar-prize for best costume. You girls should come.”

“We will,” Nancy promised. “Right now we're looking for Etienne. Is he around?”

“Why do you need to talk to him?” Lonnie turned away to fuss with an arrangement of colored autumn leaves.

“I'm still trying to get to the bottom of what happened to Bess last night,” Nancy replied. “I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about Etienne's relationship with a guy named Gaetan? There's apparently some bad blood between them.”

“Gaetan Orakuma?” Lonnie made a gesture of distaste. “Isn't he Charity's boyfriend? I hear he's as crazy as she is.”

“She may be crazy, but last night she denied that you fired her, Lonnie. She said she quit.”

Lonnie looked agitated. “What would you expect her to say? That I gave her the boot? No way she'd admit that.” Lonnie spat out the words. “You could probably tell she flies off the handle pretty quick. I couldn't have someone like that working here.”

“I guess you're right,” Nancy said. She had to
admit that Charity had a temper like Mount Vesuvius.

Lonnie turned away impatiently. “You're on a wild-goose chase, Nancy. I suggest you leave this investigation to the police, who know what they're doing. You're likely to stumble into something you can't handle.”

Nancy was surprised by Lonnie's outburst. “I can take care of myself,” she said evenly. “If you could just tell me where I can find Etienne?”

Lonnie shrugged. “Etienne doesn't report for work until about seven
P.M.
, but maybe you can find him at home.” Lonnie pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled the DJ's home address on the back of one of the club's business cards. “I'll write down my name and number, too, in case you need to get in touch with me,” he said.

“Thanks,” Nancy said, taking the card. She and George got back into her car and headed to Etienne's house, which was an apartment in a small, run-down complex. “Number six,” Nancy said, peering out from her car at the number on the front door. “This is where Lonnie said he lives.”

Nancy parked the car, then she and George walked up to the front door. Nancy raised her hand and knocked. To her surprise, it swung open under her light rap. “Etienne?” Nancy
called out uncertainly. There was no reply. Nancy called out again, then she took a couple of steps into the small living room. “Etienne?” Nancy repeated.

“Oh, no!” Nancy heard George say from somewhere behind her. George was pointing into the brightly lit kitchen. Nancy looked, and then her hand flew up to cover her mouth. A man's body was sprawled faceup across the kitchen floor, with purple marks around his throat. It was Etienne, the Razor's Edge DJ—and he seemed to be dead!

F
EELING HER STOMACH TURN,
Nancy nevertheless took several swift steps toward the kitchen. She knelt down and felt for any signs of life.

“I'm afraid he's dead, George,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. She raised her head, listening for any sound that might indicate that the intruder might still be lurking around.

Hearing nothing, Nancy started thinking ahead. “We're going to have to put in a call to the police right away,” she said. Nancy used Etienne's wall phone to call the River Heights police. When the desk sergeant answered, she asked for Detective B. D. Hawkins, a homicide
detective with whom Nancy had worked on another case involving murder.

After speaking to B.D. for a few minutes, Nancy hung up and turned back to George. “They're coming over right away,” she said. “But before they get here, I want to take a look around. We'll have to be careful not to disturb any possible evidence.”

Nancy conducted a quick visual search of Etienne's apartment for any clue that would help her identify his murderer. She turned up nothing. All at once Nancy paused and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that, George?” she asked her friend.

George took in a deep breath. “No, I don't—wait a minute. You mean that sweet smell, like pastry dough?”

Nancy nodded. “That's the same smell I caught at the club last night. I'm sure it's ether.”

“Ether,” George said. “Isn't that the stuff you figure Bess's kidnapper used to knock her unconscious last night?”

“Yes, and now it seems as if ether was used to knock Etienne out before strangling him,” Nancy replied.

“That means that whoever abducted Bess last night could have murdered Etienne,” George said somberly.

Nancy nodded. “There's no question we're probably dealing with an extremely dangerous person, George.” She was excited by the discovery of the connection between the two crimes, yet puzzled. What on earth could the connection be? Nancy knew she didn't have much time to figure out the tie-in between the two crimes. But it seemed almost certain that Bess's kidnapper was also Etienne's killer and would stop at nothing—not even murder.

George shivered. “Bess is very lucky to be alive,” she said in a shaky voice. “When I think that she could have been in the hands of a psycho last night, whoever he is . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Or
she,”
Nancy reminded her, thinking of Charity Freeborn. “In fact, a woman might be even more likely to use a knockout potion like ether than a man, to compensate for lack of physical strength.”

A River Heights Police Department patrol car pulled up outside. As B. D. Hawkins, the tall, lanky detective, climbed out of the front seat, Nancy and George went out to greet him. Behind the wheel was T. Jones, the officer who had responded to Nancy's call at Bess's home the night before.

“Hi, Nancy! What've you got here?” As usual, B.D. got right down to business.

“Murder by strangulation, it looks like. The victim is Etienne Girard, who worked at the Razor's Edge dance club. He's in the kitchen,” Nancy said, leading the way back into the apartment.

B.D. followed Nancy into the kitchen, where he knelt and briefly examined Etienne's body. “You're right. He was strangled,” the detective stated. “The coroner'll be along in a little while.” He stood up and stared down at Nancy. “I know you well enough to know that you've probably already taken a look around,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “What have you turned up?”

“I caught a whiff of something that smelled like ether,” Nancy answered. She filled B.D. in about Bess's kidnapping the night before, and the probable use of ether in that incident.

“Then whoever kidnapped your friend could have murdered this guy, as well,” B.D. said thoughtfully. “Is there motive?”

Thoughts of Tom Kragen, Gaetan, and Charity raced through Nancy's mind. “I have suspicions, but no solid evidence,” she told the detective. She handed him the photo she'd picked up at Tom Kragen's, the one that showed Gaetan
and Etienne fighting. She briefly described who Gaetan was. “Gaetan's girlfriend said he was never at the Razor's Edge last night. But this photo clearly shows he was there, and that he was probably having a nasty argument with Etienne.”

B.D. peered at the photo. “Hang on to that photo, Nancy. I may need it later as evidence,” he said. “We now have to treat everything we turn up as part of an official murder investigation.”

Just then the wall phone in Etienne's kitchen rang. Motioning for the others to remain quiet, B.D. answered the phone. He listened for a moment and then hung up. “It was just someone soliciting business,” he said.

“That phone call gives me an idea,” Nancy said. “I wonder if Etienne has an answering machine. Maybe he has some old messages that will give us a clue about what happened, or what he was up to.”

George nodded. “There is one. In his bedroom,” she said.

Nancy, George, and the two officers went into Etienne's sparsely furnished bedroom. A slim black answering machine sat on Etienne's desk.

B.D. pressed the Play button. They heard the metallic gibberish of the message tape rewinding.
Then a heavily accented voice, distorted with rage, came over the speaker.

“Etienne, you better pay me the money you owe me, or I'm coming after you! I'm going to kill you!” The message ended abruptly as the caller slammed down the phone.

D
O YOU HAVE ANY IDEA
who that- was?” B.D. asked Nancy. “He could very well be our murderer.”

“I know exactly who it was,” Nancy said slowly. The caller's lilting accent was easily recognized by her. “The man who threatened to kill Etienne is Gaetan Orakuma.”

“Gaetan Orakuma?” B.D. repeated the name. “Tell me more about him.”

“He's a former friend of Etienne. My understanding is that they had some business plans that fell through,” Nancy explained.

“He must have thought that Etienne owed him
money,” the detective said. “People have been murdered over that kind of thing before.”

Nancy explained to the detective how Charity and Gaetan had lied to her about being at the Razor's Edge. “Gaetan's girlfriend, Charity Freeborn, even tried to attack me with a knife when I questioned her about Bess's disappearance. They certainly acted like they were hiding something. And there's no question that that was Gaetan's voice on Etienne's answering machine, threatening to kill him.”

“Then Gaetan could be our link between the two crimes, the kidnapping and Etienne's murder,” B.D. replied.

“That would be pretty stupid of Gaetan to leave a message threatening Etienne just before killing him,” George pointed out.

Nancy paused, thinking. “You're right, George. That would seem to indicate that the murder wasn't premeditated. He would never have made that threat if he were intending to follow through on it because he'd be booked in an instant. So he must have killed Etienne in the heat of anger. But then,” she continued after a brief pause, “the use of ether to knock him out indicates otherwise. It indicates premeditation.”

“We'll figure out all the missing pieces as we go along.” B.D. shrugged. “At the moment this
Gaetan Orakuma is our most likely suspect in the murder, and probably in the kidnapping, as well. I'll have to bring him in for questioning. Do you happen to know where he lives?”

Nancy nodded. She dug into her purse where she had shoved the slip of paper Etienne had given her the day before with Gaetan's address on it. She handed it to B.D.

The coroner had arrived and was in the kitchen. “Hey, B.D., did you see the tattoo,” the coroner called into the living room.

In the kitchen the coroner, a small man dressed in a dark suit, was examining Etienne's right arm. “Look at that,” the coroner said, pointing to a tattoo on Etienne's arm. “Isn't that a piece of work? Haven't seen one of those rising phoenix tattoos since I was in Europe with the army.”

Peering over B.D.'s shoulder at the tattoo, Nancy gasped. It looked like an ornate green eagle tattoo, just as Bess had described seeing on the arm of one of her abductors! The coroner asked them all to leave before he slipped the body into a body bag.

In the living room Nancy told B.D. about the tattoo that Bess had seen the night before. “Bess said she saw a green eagle tattoo on the arm of the kidnapper who let her go.” This meant that
Etienne was probably the half of the kidnapping team who had released Bess, Nancy realized. Her thoughts were racing. Could Etienne and Gaetan, and perhaps even Charity, have been involved in an abduction scheme that went awry? But why? Perhaps, she reasoned, they'd been planning to demand a ransom for Bess, but then Etienne had had second thoughts? And what about Tom Kragen? Nancy hadn't forgotten about the pale, young man—he seemed to be the only person so far who had a clear motive for the kidnapping itself. Was there any connection between him and Etienne, or Gaetan?