Finding Elizabeth

by Louise Forster

  “I might go and check on Kate,” Jack said, pointing in the general direction of her dressing room.

  “Let me go in first,” Leandra sniffed. “She’s probably changing.” She fiddled with Dave’s handkerchief, perhaps worrying whether to give it back, and looked up at them, her red rimmed, brown eyes glistening. “I’m no cry-baby,” she said, chin crinkling as her eyes welled with more tears. She took a deep breath to pull herself together. “But that was the most unforgettable, heart-rending, stunning performance I’ve ever seen Kate give. I hope you both appreciate what my friend has given up.” Leandra hurried off.

  “Jesus,” Dave mumbled.

  “Yeah,” Jack agreed.

  Twenty minutes went by, and Jack was beginning to feel like a loose wheel. Another fifteen went by and finally Leandra waltzed across the broad expanse of timber stage. She’d changed into a dress that rippled around her feet like a pearly silver cloud. A floor-length black fake fur coat that looked more like a cape billowed out behind her.

  Jack glanced across his shoulder at Dave, who had his mouth open and looked stunned.

  “Dave, your mouth’s open,” Leandra said casually.

  Molars clunked as Dave’s mouth shut abruptly.

  “At least he’s not drooling,” Jack pointed out helpfully.

  Leandra gave Dave a look and turned to Jack. “Kate’s having a shower and getting dressed up; then she wants to catch the bus with the troupe for the last time. They won’t be long. We can wait for her at the Banff Springs Hotel. I’ll get a taxi out.”

  “Why not come with us?” Jack nudged Dave, hoping he’d second the invite.

  “Yeah, we’re happy to take you, there’s plenty of room,” Dave echoed.

  Pierre called out, “Leandra, your taxi’s here,” and hurried towards them with Jack’s and Dave’s overcoats.

  Oblivious, Dave went on, “Not that I want to push you into anything …”

  “That’s enough, Dave,” Jack whispered through his teeth. “Breathe,” he told him.

  “Thanks, Pierre,” Leandra said. “I’ll go with these two, show them the way.” She turned to Jack. “Please tell me your car is in the downstairs car park.”

  “Sorry, I’m outside behind the theatre. You can still grab Pierre.”

  “No!” Dave yelled, then pulled an embarrassed face. “Um, we can get the car and bring it around.”

  Go Dave! Jack thought, and did his best to control his smile.

  Outside, the front steps were clear of ice and snow, and the granite steps salted to stop more ice forming.

  “Wait here, I’ll get the car,” Jack told them. He could’ve jogged, but he didn’t want to risk falling on his arse and splitting the purple pants. The car was freezing. He revved the engine, hoping it would help warm up faster. He came around the front of the theatre and parked. Clouds of condensation billowed out as he waited for Dave and Leandra to hop in.

  Jack peered through the ice-encrusted windscreen at the two on top of the stairs. Leandra nearly slipped on the first step, and Dave held out his arm. To Jack’s surprise, she took it without hesitation, while muttering something about heels. She didn’t look happy needing Dave’s help.

  After negotiating slushy and sometimes icy roads, Jack arrived at the Banff Springs Hotel. The majestic building, built in the style of a nineteenth-century Scottish baronial castle, stood between the Rocky Mountains and the Bow River, a grandiose and perfect setting. A valet, dressed in a black goose-down snowsuit rushed down the steps. He opened the front and back doors of Jack’s car simultaneously. A blast of icy air greeted them. Jack quickly handed the valet his car keys, and Dave ushered them through the revolving doors into the lobby.

  Jack walked up to reception and explained they were with Pierre Garneau’s party. The receptionist informed him that Mr Garneau hadn’t arrived yet, and would they like to wait in the bar? Jack nodded and moved to join Dave and Leandra. Looking up, he marvelled at the beautiful interior of the hotel. He admired its warm timber walls and imposing pillars. Christmas decorations sparkled and drifted above him under the cream, domed ceiling. The massive Christmas tree standing in a corner, its many lights winking and blinking, finished it off. The effect was one of tasteful opulence.

  The trio made themselves comfortable in a quiet corner. Thoughts rambling through his mind, Jack gazed out the window at twinkling lights glowing in nearby hills as black as the night sky.

  “Come on, darlings, hurry out of the cold!” Pierre’s voice rang out as he urged his ballet troupe through the lobby. Peals of laughter echoed through the room. “And stop playing with the revolving doors!”

  Pierre strode swiftly across the lobby towards them. “You made it.” He greeted them happily, hands out, clearly in a party mood.

  “Pierre!” Leandra exclaimed. “Are you criticising my navigational skills?”

  “Who, me? I would never.” Hand to his chest, Pierre shook his head. “I was merely referring to the terrible conditions on the road.”

  Jack looked around, hoping to see Katherine’s familiar figure. “Is everyone here?”

  Pierre frowned. “I would’ve thought so—why?”

  “Where’s Katherine?” Jack asked.

  “Isn’t she with you?”

  “No, Pierre,” Jack said. “We haven’t seen her since she danced.”

  “But wait a minute,” Leandra sounded panicky. “Kate said she wanted to join everyone on the bus, so where is she?”

  Puzzled, Pierre shrugged. “She must have decided to come in her own car.”

  “That would mean she went home to get it.” Leandra reminded him. “We came on Bo’s skidoo, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Pierre’s eyebrows shot up.

  “She has a mobile phone, give her a call.” Jack said, watching the remaining dancers walk by.

  “Splendid idea.” Pierre pulled his phone out and marched around the lobby trying to get a connection. “Ah,” he said, triumphant, dialled and waited. “Hi, sweetie, it’s your uncle.” Jack sagged with relief. “We’re all here at the Banff wondering where you are.” Pierre clicked his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket.

  “Well?” Jack asked while Leandra looked on expectantly.

  “It went to message bank.”

  Jack cursed.

  “Oh good grief,” Leandra muttered.

  “Stop all this angst,” Pierre frowned. “I have a company of hungry, thirsty dancers waiting and wondering. Come, have a glass of champagne, give her a few minutes, then we can all panic.”

  “Sorry,” Jack said, quietly anxious. “Can’t do that until I know she’s not lying in a wrecked taxi somewhere, freezing.”

  “Jack!” Leandra shuddered.

  “Merde!” The air rushed out of Pierre’s lungs and his hand flew to his chest. “You sure know how to scare a man. I refuse to believe there’s anything wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go in and see if the dancers know anything.”

  “Good idea,” Leandra added, hurrying off.

  As some of the dancers had gone home early for Christmas, two refectory tables were joined to seat his remaining troupe. Elaborate centrepieces of green fir branches, red ribbon, gold baubles and tall white candles added to the festive look.

  Pierre stood at the head of the table and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Darlings!” As the chatter ended and heads turned towards him he continued. “Does anyone know where Katy might be?”

  Hushed murmurs, hand gestures, shaking heads, some nodding, rippled through the dancers as they talked to each other.

  The second lead dancer Charlotte turned to Pierre. “Everyone left the town hall together. The bus driver said Ms Bell was coming here with her boyfriend in his car.”

  “Oh, pardon.” Pierre turned to Jack. “These are Katy’s friends: Jack Riley, and his friend, Dave Wilson. You all know Leandra Paige.”

  “Well, who’s her boyfriend?” Charlotte asked. “Does Kate have another … boy …?” />
  Jack glanced at the doe eyed faces. It should’ve been a happy scene, but suddenly everyone looked worried.

  Where the hell was she?

  Pierre scanned his troupe. “Where’s Bianca? Don’t tell me she’s missing too.”

  “No, she’s with Dean,” Charlotte said. “They’re coming in his car.”

  “Hi everyone,” a woman behind Jack sang out; her Russian accent softened and rounded every word. “What is going on?”

  Jack turned and saw the lithesome young soloist from the ‘Lilac Fairy’s Dance’ standing in the doorway.

  “Ah, Bianca,” Pierre clasped his hands tightly in front of him. Jack noticed Pierre wasn’t as calm as he made out. “Have you seen Kate?”

  “Yes, just before we left. I saw her talking to a man outside her dressing room.”

  Every muscle in Jack’s body tightened until the roots of his hair hurt. He had a fair idea who the man was, but he hoped and prayed he was wrong.

  “What did he look like?”

  “It was difficult to see, he had his back to me,” Bianca shrugged apologetically, her eyes darting around the entire troupe. “Will someone puh-lease tell me what is going on?”

  “We’re not sure, Bianca.” Pierre frowned, his fingers nervously rubbing his temple.

  “Okay, this is what I think,” Jack began. “If everything was okay, Katherine would be here by now. She may have been caught up with fans, but something tells me she would’ve called.”

  “Mobile connections are mostly non-existent around the mountains,” Dave put in. “But yeah, she’d find a phone somewhere.”

  “Sounds to me like she’s been … delayed,” Jack said. He thought delayed was a better term than waylaid or ambushed, and have everyone panic. “I’ll go back to the town hall, and check it out.”

  “The hall will be closed,” Pierre cut in, anxious eyes meeting Jack’s. “What do you mean delayed?” Understanding lit his face. He gasped. “Oh delayed! You think it’s Eric and he has my Katy locked in there?”

  “Who’s Eric?” Dave asked.

  “He’s a ballet patron of Pierre’s company,” Leandra snapped. Directing a frosty glare at Dave, she added, “And thinks he’s God’s gift.”

  “Yeah? Well, some men are, honey.” Dave smiled sweetly.

  Jack noticed Leandra cringe.

  “Jesus, give me strength,” she muttered, but didn’t take her eyes off Dave.

  Mixed tension filled the air. Jack shook himself free of Dave and Leandra’s failed banter. “Getting back to your question, Pierre—it may be Eric. He’s done some crazy stuff lately.” He pulled out his mobile phone. “Give me your phone number please, and Kate’s.”

  To save time, Pierre keyed them in. “They will be useless to you around here.”

  “I know, but at least I’ll have the numbers.”

  “Of course. I’ll ring the town hall caretaker at reception and tell him to meet you at the front door.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” Jack turned and headed for the lobby.

  “Yes, get the car. I’ll come with you!” Pierre stated.

  “Me too,” Leandra said. “I’ll ring the police.” She waved her phone about. “Damn! I’ll ring from reception.” She took off and called out over her shoulder. “Do not leave without me.”

  Dave went after Leandra.

  The dancers muttered about taking the bus back to the hall to save Katherine from this dreadful fiend. They shoved back their chairs, gathered their purses and were ready to kick arse.

  “Hold on a minute. Stay put, all of you—please!” Jack insisted. “We can’t all go trooping off to the hall.”

  “Jack is right, darlings. Katherine may get in touch with reception. It will be difficult, but it’s better you wait here.”

  “Pierre,” Jack said, “would you mind waiting as well? Kate might arrive while we’re gone and I’ve only so much room in my car.”

  “I don’t like it one bit, but I see your point. Very well.” Worry lines etched Pierre’s face, and the knuckles on his interlocked fingers were white. “Ring reception the moment you find out what is happening.”

  Chapter 8

  Dancers chatted and laughed as they passed outside her dressing room door. Katherine smiled, knowing they were in a hurry to get on the bus and start partying. Nostalgia caught in her throat; this would be the last time she shared their enthusiasm.

  After a quick shower, she slipped into her satin, blue-lilac gown. As it slithered over her body, she stepped into the matching stilettos. After years of training, she could get ready in five minutes flat. Grabbing her coat and bag, she rushed out of her dressing room, closing the door behind her.

  She turned and smacked hard into a rigid body.

  “Shit!” Katherine swore. Heart thumping, she stepped back. “Eric! How did you get in?”

  “I walked in.” His tone fractious, questioning, as if he had every right to walk into any place, and why would anyone in their right mind stop him.

  A black overcoat hung loose over sharp shoulders. Bleary eyes narrowed in on her. Katherine didn’t falter, and a smirk eased into his angular features. In a flash, his silly grin disappeared.

  “Why should anyone stop me,” he said, jabbing a finger at her chest, “unless you told them to?”

  Okay, this was heading towards uncomfortable territory. One minute he oozed cunning charm and the next he was menacing and egotistical. Katherine saw no point in reasoning with him to stop this idiotic behaviour, and determined to stay strong and go with the flow.

  His shoulders stiffened. Katherine couldn’t read the expression in his bloodshot eyes, but his stance told her that, if she wasn’t careful, she might be here for a while. Soft laughter further down the hallway caught her attention. The last of the dancers were leaving.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Eric snarled, looking pathetic.

  Katherine didn’t believe he was dangerous, yet she couldn’t bring herself to involve others. Without thinking, she glanced left and saw Bianca and Dean heading for the stairs. Seconds later, they slipped from view. Damn it, she was alone with Eric.

  “I have to leave now,” she stated firmly, turning to go. “They’re waiting for me on the bus.”

  “You missed the bus, it’s gone without you.” His smirk returned as he caught her arm. “I made sure of that, Katherine,” he slurred, sending a distasteful shiver through her. “Let’s have a Christmas drink.” A bottle of champagne appeared from the folds of his coat. “Surprise!”

  “Eric, don’t be ridiculous. We have to go—now. The caretaker is about to lock up and turn the power …” An audible boom filled the hall. “Off.” Instantly, inky darkness surrounded them.

  Katherine widened her eyes, hoping it would help her see something. Fingers splayed, she reached out and stumbled into Eric. Katherine recoiled as his arms wrapped around her.

  He snarled, “That’s more like it.”

  “Let go of me,” she hissed, furious and frustrated that she was stuck here with him in the dark. “Ugh! You’re drunk.” Katherine struggled to get free, but Eric wouldn’t let go. “Get off me!” Her foot glanced off his shin. Her back thumped against a door; it swung open and they stumbled inside the dressing room. She heard Eric slam the door shut behind them. Crap!

  Why hadn’t anyone come looking for her? Good grief, didn’t they notice she was missing?

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he staggered sideways. “You’re my woman.”

  Katherine edged backwards, hands groping behind her, hoping she’d find the closet and the flashlight stuck to the side with a magnet. Her fingers touched the hard plastic handle and curled around it for a good grip. Perhaps she should find his head and hit him with it. On second thoughts, it was better to keep her distance. She just needed to know where he was for her plan to work.

  “Eric, how many dates have we been on?”

  “What a stupid question.”

  Katherine followed the sound of his voice and flic
ked on the flashlight. He groaned, hands flying up to shade his eyes from the glare.

  “Eric! We’ve never been on a date! You’re insane and you need help.” Katherine had the urge to slap him. She did her utmost to stay calm. “And I’m not your woman.” Keeping the flashlight on his face, she fumbled behind her back for the powder room door handle.

  Eric squinted, bobbing left and right as he tried to find Katherine behind the circle of bright light. “You don’t know your own mind, or what’s good for you for that matter,” he sneered, pacing unsteadily, his shoes clomping on the old timber floor. She could probably time it correctly and slip past him out the door—and then what? Would he stagger after her, chasing her all over the hall in the dark? Hang on—she had the flashlight, and the fool was drunk.

  Muscles tense, stomach in knots, Katherine made ready to dash. Eric anticipated her move and blocked the way. Damn! He stopped, pulled the foil off the bottle and popped the cork. Froth fizzed out of the neck and oozed down over his hand; ignoring it, he put the bottle to his mouth and gulped. While he was busy drinking, Katherine made a dash for the door, but Eric belched and, arm outstretched across her path, he offered her the bottle.

  “No, thank you. But you go right ahead.” Drink it all.

  Every time he moved in front of her, Katherine caught a whiff of his pungent aftershave mixed with alcohol and sweat. Being trapped in a deserted building with a drunken stalker was not part of tonight’s plan. Shadows closed in around her. Damn, the flashlight was fading.

  “I’m freezing Eric, can we please leave?” Katherine tucked Leandra’s fake fur gift around her body. The yellow beam of light danced about the room, before she settled it quickly back on Eric.

  Too full of himself, Eric garbled on. “A few months ago you wanted me. Me!” he said, jabbing an index finger into his chest. “There’s no one out there like me.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?!” The Eric Grundys of this world thought they were unique, God’s gift, but it was nothing of the sort, they were weak and needy—and possibly dangerous.

  He shoved the champagne bottle at her. “Drink.” Eric wasn’t asking nicely.