by Eva Pohler
“Use your muscles,” she said.
As soon as he’d started drilling, a shrill scream of metal grinding into concrete exploded in the stairwell. Eduardo stopped and looked at Ellen. It was a lot louder than either of them had expected it would be. They probably should have worn ear protection, because the noise was painfully loud. Ellen even stuck a finger in each of her ears to make sure they weren’t bleeding.
“We’re going to get caught,” Eduardo said.
“Let’s just do this,” Ellen said. “As quickly as we can. If you’re having second thoughts, give it to me and go.”
Eduardo took a deep breath and continued to drill.
Ellen held the flashlight for him, wincing at the painful explosion of sound reverberating in the passageway. She kept an eye on her phone, in case either Tanya or Sue alerted her to trouble.
Then her phone went dead.
In another minute, Eduardo had the drill bit all the way through the wall. She took the drill from him and told him to watch his phone, in case Sue texted him. He could barely hear her, and vice versa. Their ears were ringing with the reverberation, almost as if the drilling hadn’t stopped.
Ellen quickly attached the tiny mirror to the camera probe and the probe to the video recorder. Then she stuffed the wire through the three-quarter-inch opening and turned the machine on. The probe used full spectrum lighting, so it would capture images in the dark. Ellen watched the monitor as she pushed the probe forward and backward.
“Can you see anything?” Eduardo asked in a loud voice.
“Not yet.”
She pushed the wire in as far as it would go, so that it hung down on the other side, and that’s when she got her shock.
“Oh, my God!” she muttered.
“Is that what I think it is?”
First, she saw a rib cage, then a skull twisted at an odd angle to the rest of the body. Then another skull. Then another.
Ellen nodded, feeling victorious. “We were right. They’re there, on the other side of this wall.”
They packed their tools into Ellen’s purse and carefully made their way down the concrete steps to the wooden door. Ellen opened it just a crack, to be sure the room outside was clear.
Sue was no longer waiting for them in front of the boiler. Where had she gone? Could someone have abducted her?
Goosebumps raised up and down Ellen’s arms as she made her way to the service elevator. When it opened, Tanya wasn’t inside, where she was supposed to be.
“What happened to them?” Eduardo said.
“Maybe they returned to their seats.”
Eduardo bought cocktails for each of them at the bar by the men’s room, so they’d blend in better, and then they climbed up the ramp to their seats on the balcony. Tanya and Sue weren’t there.
“Can you try to text Sue?” she asked Eduardo.
Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that, combined with the ringing in her ears, she couldn’t hear anything Michael Carbonaro was saying, even though their seats put them close to the stage.
As soon as Eduardo took out his phone and began to text, an attendant—not Jared—asked him to put it away.
“Sorry, sir. No cell phone use in the theater, please,” he whispered.
Eduardo apologized. Then he descended the ramp and left the theater proper to contact Sue, leaving Ellen alone to wonder what was going on.
Ellen wasn’t sure how much time had passed—maybe twenty or thirty minutes—when the three of them returned to the balcony carrying bar drinks.
“Where were you?” Ellen asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Sue said.
Ellen tried to relax and enjoy the rest of the show, but there were too many emotions swarming around inside of her. On the one hand, she was elated to have discovered the bodies in both the old social club and in the basement of Brady Theater. She was also excited for Bob Brooks to begin the work of recovering and identifying the remains and for the contractors to begin the work of clearing out the garbage to prepare for the restoration of the social club. The oil crew would be coming on Thursday, and the anticipation of how much money the oil would bring had her feeling downright giddy.
Mixed with these positive feelings were others. She felt devastated for the families of the eighteen victims that lost their lives in the fire. She also felt guilty, because if she and her friends hadn’t bought the building, the Klan wouldn’t have been there protesting, and the fire would not have happened. And then there was the anger. What gave the Klan members the right to stuff her and Tanya into the dumbwaiters and shoot Sue’s foot? What gave them the right to try to drive Ellen and her friends from Tulsa?
But greater than the elation and the excitement and the anticipation; greater than the devastation and the guilt and the anger; greater than any other emotion was the fear.
How far would the Klan members go to stop Ellen and her friends?
After the show, they drove around the corner to a place on Main called The Chimera Café for coffee and dessert with Eduardo, who rode with them. Having a handicap vehicle made parking a cinch. During the ride, Sue and Tanya explained why they had disappeared during Operation Old Lady on Brady.
“One of the attendants came down to the basement,” Sue said.
“Not by way of the service elevator,” Tanya added.
“Either she’d already been down there, or there’s another way down,” Sue said. “And I could tell she was trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.”
“Oh, God,” Ellen said.
“Anyway, she asked me what I was doing,” Sue continued.
“Oh no,” Ellen said. “What did you say?”
“I said I was lost. I told her someone told me the handicap restroom was on the lowest level, and I’d assumed that meant the basement.”
“Smart thinking,” Eduardo said.
“So, the attendant took me to the service elevator, where we met Tanya,” Sue said. “Tanya pretended to be looking for me.”
“And then the attendant escorted us to the ladies’ room,” Tanya said. “I sent you a text.”
“My phone died,” Ellen said as she unbuckled her safety belt and then went to the back of the van to help Sue out in her chair.
The bistro was more crowded than they’d expected on a Tuesday night. They asked the hostess for a corner table for some privacy.
“So, you said you got something,” Sue said, once the waitress had left with their order. “Show us what it is.”
Just then, Sue’s phone rang.
“Hello? Yes. Thank you. That’s great news.”
Sue ended the call and said, “That was Jillian Bridges. She’s got a court hearing with the city of Tulsa set for December first at eight a.m. She’s going after reparations for Greenwood.”
Ellen stood up and did a little dance around the table. A couple at the bar raised their glasses to her. She laughed and returned to her seat.
“Show a little more excitement, why don’t you?” Sue said. “This is a big moment.”
“Congratulations, ladies,” Eduardo said. “And, honey, you’ve got some good moves,” he said to Ellen.
“Now show us what you got in the basement,” Tanya insisted.
Ellen pulled the wireless inspection probe from her big purse and turned on the video. Then she passed it around the table. She watched with amusement at the reactions on each of their faces as they studied the recording. Predictably, each one of them went from confused to disgusted to elated.
“That’s incredible,” Tanya said. “Way to go, coming up with this idea, Ellen.”
“I saw the Property Brothers do it once on HGTV,” she said as the waitress arrived with their coffee and desserts.
“You should text Bob the news,” Sue said. “I can’t wait to see what he thinks about what we did tonight.”
“Now we need to decide our next move. I think we should go see our attorney.” Ellen took a bite of her chocolate muffin.
“You mean Jil
lian Bridges?” Tanya asked.
Ellen nodded, swallowing down her bite. “I think we should tell her what we did and ask her to advise us on how to proceed.”
“Any evidence obtained illegally can’t be used in a court of law,” Eduardo said. “I watch a lot of Law and Order,” he added with a smile.
The ladies laughed.
“I think you’re right,” Tanya said. “Maybe we shouldn’t admit to Jillian how we got this.”
“Maybe we should take it to Pete Mayo and see if we can get him to cooperate with us,” Ellen said.
“We need a bargaining chip,” Sue said. “Very few people do things out of the kindness of their hearts. He’s going to want to know what’s in it for him.”
“Well, the place could use some freshening up, don’t you think?” Ellen said. “Depending on how much oil our well produces, we could make him an offer.”
“That’s not a bad idea, if we can afford it,” Sue said. “This means we should wait and see how the well does before we do anything with this evidence.”
“Agreed,” Tanya said.
Ellen clinked her coffee cup against the others. “Agreed.”
“Wait a minute,” Tanya said. “We got Van Hurley’s affidavit illegally, too. Does that mean it won’t hold up in court?”
Ellen felt the blood leave her face. “You’re right. What do we do?”
“We’re going to have to put the original back,” Sue said. “Or, better yet, you two are, because there’s no way I’m sneaking into the house in my wheelchair.”
“But how will you explain where you got your copies?” Eduardo asked.
“There’s no way I’m lying under oath,” Ellen said.
“I think we need to give this more thought,” Tanya said.
Just then, their waitress arrived with three drinks.
“We didn’t order those,” Sue said.
“I know,” the waitress said as she tossed three cocktail napkins onto the table and set down the drinks. “They’re from the gentleman over there at the bar.”
Ellen scoured the crowded bar stools. “Which one?”
The waitress glanced back. “He’s wearing…oh, wait. I don’t see him anymore.”
“What kind of drinks are these?” Tanya asked.
The waitress smiled. “Bitch Slappers. They’re made with vodka, orange juice, and a twist of lemon.”
Ellen’s brows shot up. The men who attacked them before the fire had called them bitches. Had at least one of them survived the fire?
“Are you sure you don’t see him?” Eduardo asked the waitress.
“I’ll go see if he’s still there,” she said before leaving the table.
Tanya pushed her drink away from her, toward the center of the table. “This is scary.”
“Do you think it’s one of the men who trapped us in the dumbwaiters and shot you?” Ellen asked Sue.
“I don’t know. It could be.”
“Do you think you’re being followed?” Eduardo asked.
“It would seem so.” Sue took a sip of the drink. “It’s delicious, though. May as well not waste it.”
The waitress returned. “I think he left. Sorry.”
“Can you describe what he looked like?” Tanya asked.
“Older gentleman with green eyes and curly hair.”
“Was he a police officer?” Ellen asked, the blood leaving her face. If Officer Ryan was behind this, she was going to be sick. All his talk about wanting to protect them must have been empty air.
The waitress shrugged. “He wasn’t wearing a uniform.”
“Did he by chance pay with a credit card?” Sue asked.
“I think so. I don’t know. I have so many customers. It’s hard to remember.”
“Does the last name Ryan ring a bell?” Ellen asked.
“It does, actually. Maybe that was him. Can I get you all anything else?”
“We’re ready for our check,” Sue said.
Once the waitress had left their table, Tanya asked, “Do you think it was Officer Ryan?”
“The only way to know for sure is to ask him,” Ellen said, anger filling her heart and, for a moment, overcoming the fear. “In the morning, I think we need to pay the Tulsa Police Department a visit.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Guilt
That night, Ellen and her friends moved into a handicap accessible room—a free upgrade, since it was the only available one in the hotel. It was spacious, with an enormous shower, a sitting room with a sleeper sofa and television, a kitchenette, a set of twin bunkbeds built into a niche that could be closed off with accordion-style doors, and two queen beds in a second room with another flat-screen television.
The hotel even offered to pack up their things and move them into the new room, again at no extra charge.
“I think I’m going to like being handicapped,” Sue said, once their movers had left.
“Oh, stop,” Tanya said. “It’s just temporary, so don’t get used to it.”
“You never know,” Sue said. “I could break my other foot—or a toe. It might be worth it.”
Ellen shook her head as she plugged her phone into its charger. That’s when she noticed five missed calls from Paul. “Uh-oh. Paul’s been trying to get ahold of me.”
She moved the charger to the back bedroom and closed the door for some privacy before returning his call.
“Where are you?” Paul asked.
“I’m at the hotel in Tulsa. Why?”
“I’ve been worried as hell. There was something about a fire there and eighteen dead. It sounded like it was close to where you’re staying.”
With all that had been going on since last night, Ellen hadn’t had a chance to call him to tell him what had happened. And, honestly, she’d been dreading it, because she knew exactly what he was going to say.
“It was close,” she said. “In fact, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She told him everything that had happened the night of the fire. She also told him about Officer Ryan’s advice at the hospital and the Bitch Slappers they think he sent them at the Chimera Café. The only bit of information she withheld was the drilling and probing she’d done at The Brady Theater. She would eventually tell him, but she knew, when she did, he would go nuts, condemning her for breaking the law and launching into his typical, pessimistic speech about all the ails that would befall them, as a result. So, to spare herself, she omitted it for now.
“Are you taking the train home tomorrow?” he asked.
“We’re heading back Friday.”
“Ellen, for God’s sake. Your lives have been threatened. Don’t you think you’re being selfish? Don’t you care about how your children will feel if, God forbid, something happens to you?”
She was speechless for a moment, letting his words sink in. Was she being selfish? That hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d thought she was being brave, but now that he’d brought it up, she supposed it was true.
“Ellen, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“You need to come home as soon as possible. Okay?”
“Honey, I’ll think about it. We have so much to do tomorrow, so we can’t leave by then, but maybe we can come home on Thursday.”
“Let me know what you decide.”
“I will.”
“I love you, Ellen.”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t heard those words in such a long time—since last Christmas. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I love you, too, Honey. Good night.”
The guilt she felt was unbearable.
In the morning, they drove by their property on the way to breakfast and saw their contractor’s crew—at least eight men of various ages, sizes, and ethnicities—already busy at work hauling garbage and junk into the four large dumpsters parked on the lot. Ellen couldn’t wait to stop by later and check on their progress, already imagining how much more incredible the place would look free of trash.
They ate at the Chimera
Café again, because Sue was obsessed with a pastry she’d eaten there the night before. Afterward, they drove across town to the Tulsa Police Department.
When the officer at the front desk—a woman in her late twenties with short, auburn hair and intense brown eyes—asked them how she could help them, Sue asked for Officer Ryan.
“Which one?” the officer asked.
“He’s got green eyes and curly hair,” Ellen said.
The officer’s severe face transformed into a smile. “They both do. Do you want Big Joe or Little Joe?”
“You better not let Junior hear you call him that,” another officer said as he brought a stack of papers to the front desk. “You’ll be dead meat.”
The second officer laughed at his own joke and then returned to wherever he had come from.
“So, which Ryan are you looking for?” the officer repeated.
“They both have curly brown hair that just barely covers their ears?” Ellen asked.
“Big Joe’s is mostly gray.”
“How old is Little Joe?” Sue asked.
“Mid-thirties, I believe,” the officer replied.
“Then that’s the one,” Tanya said, glancing at Ellen and Sue. “Don’t you think?”
“Definitely,” Ellen agreed.
“Alrighty,” the officer said. “I’ll ring him up and let him know you’re here. May I tell him the reason for your visit?”
Ellen wasn’t sure what to say to that. She couldn’t very well tell the officer they wanted to confront him about the Bitch Slappers.
“I want to know if my gun was ever found after it was taken Monday night at the scene of the fire on Main next to Cain’s.”
Thank God for Sue, Ellen thought.
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said as she picked up the phone. “You can wait over there.” She indicated a row of empty chairs next to the front window. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
A few minutes later, Officer Ryan entered the front office and met them in the receiving area. “Morning, ladies. No sign of the gun. I’m sorry. To be honest, I think you’re probably safer without it. How’s your foot?”
