Beneath a Buried House (Detective Elliot Mystery Book 2) by Bob Avey Read Free Book Online Page B

seemingly trained on a distant focal point. Elliot wondered where he might be going.
    He decided to find out. He waved traffic past, then crept onto 15th Street, staying behind the suspect, out of his field of vision.
    The leisurely drive didn’t last. Impatient drivers blew their horns and swerved around. Not wanting to draw attention, Elliot drove past the suspect and pulled into the parking lot of an insurance agency, just west of Lewis Avenue. Seconds later, the man stepped from the sidewalk and crossed the street. Elliot grabbed some papers from the seat of the car and pretended to examine them. When the suspect drew near, he slowed his pace then altered his course and continued to the other side. He was now heading east.
    When he reached what was once an old church, he climbed the steps then pulled the door, pausing briefly to glance in Elliot’s direction before he turned and entered the building. Elliot considered going after him, but decided against it. Instead, he drove west a few more blocks, then pulled into another lot and parked again. He didn’t think the church was the man’s destination, and he hoped that after a moment or two, thinking Elliot was gone, he would resume his original journey.
    Elliot’s guess proved right. About ten minutes later, he caught sight of the suspect, again strolling west along the sidewalk. Elliot climbed out of his car and followed on foot, keeping his distance, trying to blend in with the crowd whenever he could. When the wind picked up, he pulled his coat together and buttoned it. He felt conspicuous, a lone gunman chasing his prey, but as far as he could determine the man hadn’t noticed he was once again being followed.
    By the time they reached the area of restaurants and antique shops where 15th becomes Cherry Street, the cold air had begun to blur Elliot’s vision, but he managed to keep the suspect in visual range. Turning north on St. Louis, he followed him past empty houses and uncut bushes. Just off Cherry Street, the north end of St. Louis Avenue was a step back in time to an era of Tulsa when oil was king and Ford, parked proudly in the narrow drives of cute bungalows, the automobile of choice. The bungalows were still there, but like an old photograph that had lost its sheen, they, too, had faded, mere shadows of the symbols of wealth they had once been, their wildcatters and drillers having moved on taking their shiny Fords and leaving behind poverty and Japanese imports.
    Elliot kept his distance, following the man as he walked toward a small apartment building nestled among oaks and evergreens. When the suspect stopped and dug his keys from his pocket, Elliot came forward and showed his badge. The look in the man’s eyes said he wanted to run, but he held his ground. “I need to talk to you,” Elliot said.
    The man swallowed, licked his lips. “What about? I haven’t done anything.”
    “I didn’t say you had. But I have to tell you, your nervousness concerns me.”
    The man unlocked the door and started to go inside, acting as if Elliot was nothing more than a nosey neighbor that he didn’t have time for.
    Elliot reached in front of the man and stopped him by holding the doorknob.
    “What are you doing?”
    “We need to talk.”
    “Do you have a warrant or something?”
    Elliot smiled, trying to look apologetic, friendly, and yet retain an edge of command. “Why would I need anything like that? You’re not under arrest. I just need to talk to you. In fact, there’s no need to go inside at all. We can conduct our business right here.”
    The man paused then shook his head. “You can come in. You just scared me, that’s all, coming up behind me like that, popping out of nowhere. You can’t be too careful these days.”
    When Elliot stepped inside, the impression that no one actually lived there struck him. The apartment was so devoid of furnishings that the sound of the door closing echoed from the corners.
    The man sat in the only chair, a