Elvis Sightings (An Elvis Sightings Mystery)

by Ricardo Sanchez

  “Okay, Colonel, I really have to get going...”

  “Of course! You have to go skulking in shadows. Finding that which wants to remain hidden.”

  I put my hand on the Viking’s arm and guided him toward the door. “Something like that.”

  “Farewell, Detective Flooytje. Today is the battle of Oostende! You’ll come out to Kresge field?”

  I finally got the mad Dane out the door and shut it behind him. I should have been heading to the Camaro, but I paused and flipped through the wad of twenties in my hand. I really hadn’t even given the Colonel’s mother a second thought since Morrison and I left the Caddy dealership. Funny how things change, though. When someone is willing to pay me several hundred dollars to stop doing something, right after his daughter tries to bed me to achieve the same goal, I get curious.

  But my deadline for finding Roman was just hours away and the Viking’s Mamma would have to wait. I put the bills he’d given me in my pocket then looked through the peephole, just in case. Unless the midget was waiting outside to kick me in the shins, there was no one there. I headed for the elevator and my date with Wanda.

  * * *

  It took me almost ten minutes to get to Mel’s. I hoped my bearded bird wouldn’t mind her teddy bear showing up late. Goliath stepped out of the door just as I was coming up the steps.

  “Nice suit, Liberace,” he said, pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.

  “Is that a dog yipping at my ankles?”

  “Outta my way, or this dog is going to tear you a new one.” Goliath looked ready to deck me.

  “Who’d you come here with?” I asked.

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing. Just curious,” I told him.

  The suspicious sneer on Goliath’s face faded a bit.

  “Dot.”

  As if by magic, a red convertible ’66 Mustang pulled out of a parking space and stopped near the entrance. The passenger door swung open and a twenty-something brunette in cutoff shorts and a tank top leaned out. Her long brown hair was braided into two pigtails tied off with blue ribbons.

  A little brown Cairn Terrier leapt out of the car and trotted over to us.

  And then it clicked. “Dot. As in Dorothy and the Yellow Brick Road?” I asked.

  I knew I shouldn’t have said it even as the words crossed my lips. Goliath did a sweeping kick with his short little leg and giant foot. The force of the blow sent me sprawling down the steps onto my back.

  The scruffy brown dog came over to me and began licking my face.

  “Coming, sugar pie?” Dot called out to Goliath, patting the seat.

  “And she has a little dog, too?” I asked, trying to sit up.

  I never learn.

  Goliath used that same giant foot that knocked me to the ground to deliver a swift kick to my groin.

  My response this time was to curl up into a fetal position.

  “I think you’re low enough to bite my ankles now, Nancy,” Goliath said, walking past me.

  The dog liked me, though, and kept licking my face while I lay there.

  Dot finished helping Goliath with his car seat, then leaned back out the open door. “Toto! Come, boy!”

  I would have laughed if the effort to keep breathing wasn’t already taking all my energy.

  The little dog gave me one more lick on the nose, barked an acknowledgement to his mistress, and ran back to the Mustang.

  Before the munchkin, the Oz fetishist and her little dog pulled away, I heard Goliath shout “Enjoy your breakfast!” while chuckling his evil munchkin snigger.

  A nice old man came out of the restaurant next. He was dressed all in denim, with a brown leather vest and beat-up brown cowboy hat. When he saw me lying in the dirt he sidled up and said, “Looks like you could use a bit of help, mister.”

  I gratefully accepted his outstretched hand and he helped me to my feet.

  “That’s quite a getup you’re wearing. Shouldn’t mess it up rollin’ around in the dirt.”

  “I had a little help getting down there. Thank you...”

  “Duke, people ’round here call me Duke.”

  “Thank you, Duke. My name’s Floyd.”

  “Well, Floyd, you ever need a hand again don’t be afraid to holler!”

  With that the old cowboy tipped his hat to me and strode off on his own business. I went up the steps to Mel’s again, painfully aware of my genitals this time, and opened the door. I was immediately greeted by the mouth-watering smell of hot biscuits that filled Mel’s in the morning.

  Bettie Mae was at the register ringing up an ostentatious woman in her late 40’s, with violet and crimson streaks running through her graying hair. I imagined Bettie Mae in a tiger-striped swimsuit, but I still couldn’t figure out who she was.

  “Hi, Floyd,” Bettie Mae said, not looking up from the change she was handing the woman. “And ten. You have a good day now, Jan!”

  Jan, who was a good six or eight inches shorter than me, turned around and smiled slyly.

  “So you’re the man that whisked our little Wanda around the dance floor last night! What’s a girl gotta do to get a ride on the Floyd machine?”

  “Huh?”

  Bettie Mae gave me a scolding look.

  “Small town, Floyd. You and Wanda tripping the light fantastic has been just about all anybody’s talked about this morning,” she said. “‘’Course, a lot of the talk is whether you’re good enough for our girl.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Bettie Mae and Jan burst into laughter.

  “I’m just teasing you a bit, lover boy,” Bettie Mae said. “Your sweetheart is down at her usual booth.”

  I turned to walk down the row between the tables and the counter to Wanda’s booth when I heard the two ladies behind me whisper something to each other just before they broke into song.

  “Floyd and Wanda sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

  They would have continued but they both broke down into a fit of giggles.

  I spotted Wanda’s red hair from where I stood and caught her looking at me for just a moment before she ducked her head in embarrassment. Mel’s patrons stood to clap me on the back, shake my hand, or offer me stern warnings as I made my way to her booth.

  “You treat her right now!”

  “Finally, someone man enough to tame the bearded lady!”

  “Save a dance for me tonight, handsome!”

  Wanda ignored the comments and took a bite of Eggs Benedict.

  I slid into the booth across from her, and Bettie Mae broke up the gawkfest.

  “Okay everybody, we’ve had our fun! You let the two lovebirds eat in peace now!”

  One by one, the diners turned back to their own meals of stacked pancakes and steak and eggs.

  “Good morning!” I said.

  “Thanks for having breakfast with me.”

  “Glad to. Look, I’m, uh, sorry I fell asleep last night.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t going to get any action anyway.”

  “I, I never thought—” I stammered.

  “Yes, you did,” she said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

  “Okay, maybe I did,” I agreed, hoping I wasn’t leering. Wanda looked really good in uniform.

  Bettie Mae brought me out a plate of chopped steak, eggs and a short stack of pancakes.

  “I think you made a mistake, I didn’t order this,” I told her.

  “Boys at the counter ordered it for ya, sweetie. Want you to keep up your strength.”

  Wanda gave “the boys” an icy stare.

  Two deputies sitting at the counter waved back cheerfully.

  “Bon appetit,” Bettie Mae said, tucking a napkin into the n
eck of my jumpsuit. “Wouldn’t want you spoiling that lovely outfit.”

  Wanda just shook her head as Bettie Mae returned to the cash register.

  “I’m going to be hearing about this for a long, long time.”

  “Wanda—”

  “It’s fine! Really. Why don’t we just get to business, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied, pouring some syrup over the short stack.

  “Burrows is dead, so you don’t really need any of the information I can dig up on him, do you?” she asked.

  I was surprised that Wanda was backpedaling on her promise. Obtaining town records would be a simple task for her or one of her deputies.

  “It’s really him?” I asked. I had been hoping it wasn’t.

  “Who else would we find dead in his house?”

  “Well, I’d like to know for sure, for Buddy, but if it’s a problem, no, I don’t suppose I really need you to do anything,” I said cautiously.

  “Good,” she said. “You’d be shocked how much paperwork finding a body generates. I’m going to be on the phone with the state police most of the afternoon.”

  Paperwork is not one of the dangers of being a private detective. I was disappointed she wouldn’t be helping me, but I could get what I wanted on my own.

  “Don’t worry about it then. I’ll go spend a few hours down at the courthouse and see what I can find.”

  “I wouldn’t bother. The records clerk is on vacation. She’s really the only one who could help you. Oh, and you can stop looking for Roman, too.”

  “Did you find him?” I asked.

  “No. But the city council meeting has been postponed. And besides, I have some of the circus folk canvassing the town. If he’s here, we’ll turn him up. The town sheriff really shouldn’t have to count on strange private detectives that blow into town to find a missing citizen. How’s your breakfast?”

  I took a bite of my pancakes.

  “These are really good!” I said. “You know, you’re the second person today to take me off of a case.”

  Wanda looked at me closely. She was all sheriff again.

  “What other case were you working on?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I told you. The Colonel wanted me to look for his missing mamma. He came by this morning and paid me off to stop the search. Not that I was actually looking for her.”

  She took another bite of her eggs and chewed without saying anything. I was about to ask her what was going on when she took a deep breath and started to speak.

  “So! The work that brought you here is done. You don’t have any local cases you’re working on. There’s really no need for you to stick around Kresge a minute longer, is there?”

  Wanda stuffed another large bite of eggs into her mouth, getting hollandaise sauce in her beard.

  “What?”

  She shook her head no, made a mumbled noise while keeping her lips sealed together, and raised her hand to cover her face so I’d figure out her mouth was too full to talk.

  “Well, even with my work done, I thought maybe you and I could spend some time together. I thought we were hitting it off,” I told her.

  The last bit wasn’t a question, but she took it as one.

  Wanda lifted her napkin and wiped most of the sauce from her whiskers.

  “Not really. One-time thing, you know? A moment that isn’t going to repeat itself.”

  Wanda picked the keys to her patrol car up off the tabletop and slid out of the booth. She looked down at me as she stood. After a moment’s hesitation, she put out her hand.

  “Nice meeting you, Floyd.”

  I reached out slowly and took her hand. She gave me a firm squeeze and two solid pumps before letting it go.

  “If you’re ever up this way again and the Department can be of assistance, stop in. Have a safe trip home.”

  Wanda turned and walked straight out of the diner without another word. I sat in the booth, staring over my shoulder at the door, waiting for her to come back in. Bettie Mae noticed me looking in her general direction, and even though I wasn’t really looking at her, gave me the universal nod of the service industry that means “I’ll be right with you.”

  I turned back to my food and took another bite of my pancakes. They weren’t as tasty as they had been a few minutes ago.

  Being a private investigator can be lonely. There is always the random housewife or barmaid who romanticizes the life of a P.I. and wants to come along for the ride. But in the end, when they figure out that it means their man is away for days, or weeks, and the hours are long, the reality of how boring detective work really is sets in. It’s a rare woman who wants to put up with it. Wanda might have been an exception. Police work isn’t that different. You just get a shiny badge and a gun.

  Either I had read her entirely wrong last night, or there was more going on than she’d admitted to. It didn’t matter though. She didn’t want me around, and I really had no business being here anymore. As soon as I finished my breakfast, I’d call Buddy and tell him the bad news.

  “Lover’s quarrel already, honey?”

  I looked up at Bettie Mae with a brave face.

  “Star-crossed lovers. You know how it goes.”

  “I do. Better than you, I’d imagine. Are you going to chase her?”

  “The sheriff doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who appreciates a stalker. And she carries a gun.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. You two would have made a nice couple.”

  * * *

  There was no point putting off my call to Buddy any longer. I plugged a handful of quarters into the pay phone outside of Mel’s and dialed.

  “Casa de Pritchard.”

  “Hi, Louisa, it’s Floyd. Can you put Buddy on?” I asked.

  There was a protracted silence on the other end of the line.

  “Hola, Señor Floyd. Just a minute.”

  I plugged a few more quarters into the phone and waited.

  While I was standing there I saw a group of four Vikings in full regalia go by in an old Plymouth Duster. Their spears were sticking out the windows, pointed toward the heavens, with little colored ribbons attached near the heads that fluttered in the wind as the Duster picked up speed. Anywhere but in Kresge the sight would seem out of place.

  “Floyd?”

  It was Vernon’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Vernon, I have some bad news.”

  “So do I,” she said. “Buddy died last night.”

  This time the silence was on my end.

  “Floyd?”

  “Yeah. I heard you.”

  “He went quietly,” she said. “We had a good dinner together. Buddy was happy. Talked a lot about you. He said he knew you’d find Elvis this time. Louisa helped him to bed and he just...slipped away in the night.”

  I had known this was coming, but the news left me hollowed out. There was an empty, aching hole in my chest I hadn’t felt since my father died. Buddy’s love had filled in that gap, making me feel whole, but Vernon’s words carved that piece of me away and suddenly I was a lonely, scared little boy again.

  As much as Buddy’s passing left me feeling like an emotional rag doll, there was also a sense of relief. I’d been afraid that telling him we’d found Elvis too late would be the thing to send him to his Maker.

  “I’m sorry, Floyd,” Vernon said.

  “Me too.”

  “Buddy wanted you to know that he was proud of you,” she added.

  That just made me feel worse.

  “You said you had bad news?” she asked.

  “I found him. Buddy was right. Jon Burrows was in Kresge.”

  “But...that’s great news.”

  “I found him too late. He’s dead too.”

>   “Oh.”

  Another silence. It was interrupted by the phone company asking for more money. I put in the last of my change.

  “Come back to my ranch,” Vernon said. “Buddy wanted a wake and I’m going to give him a hell of a sendoff.”

  Of course Buddy would want to be sent off with a party. From what I knew of his circle of friends, it would be a good one.

  “He left a will,” she said more somberly. “He told me to wait to open it until the two of us were together.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow or the day after,” I said.

  “Drive safe.”

  Funny how things go. I hadn’t known it when I woke up, but my day had started near the lip of a cliff and with every step I’d moved closer to the edge until I just walked right off of it.

  Another car full of guys in fur and metal drove by. I remembered the Colonel mentioning there was a reenactment today. At this rate it would draw half the town, I thought.

  I climbed into the Camaro and turned over the engine. The 8-track started up in the middle of “Trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Driving back to the Butterworth, I marveled at just how far I’d fallen. Did I really believe I was going to find Roman, save the day and get the girl?

  The bad luck started with the car, I realized, and started to add up from there. You have a guy in an Elvis suit, riding around a cockamamie town in a vintage Camaro. With a lounge-singer sidekick. We’re looking for a missing town councilman and all the suspects and people of interest are wannabe Danish insurgents, second-generation circus castaways, and “dead” celebrities.

  I’d been living in a Raymond Chandler novel adapted by Salvador Dali.

  It didn’t really matter, though. Elvis said when things go wrong, don’t go with them. It was good advice right about now. Wanda had more or less told me to get out of town and I’d fulfilled my mentor’s last wish. I could pack up and head back to Nevada and life would return to normal. Normal for me, anyway.

  That’s what I told myself as I pulled up to the Butterworth. I still had to say goodbye to my self-appointed partner. I didn’t know where Morrison lived, so my only bet was to catch him in the same place I’d originally found him, the Bombay Club. I wanted to see Goliath one last time, too. I was tired of being on the receiving end of his oversized feet, but I kind of liked him.