by Roslyn Woods
“Tad the Terrible?”
“Our nickname for Thaddeus. We all dislike the man. He’s a boorish fellow.”
Gonzalez nodded for a moment before asking, “You’re saying Garrett Hall had questions about the Wes Travis paintings?
“Well, he was still examining them, but he never said anything very decisive.”
“What did he say?”
“He seemed to have an issue with the brushstrokes or something like that.”
“That’s it?”
“The truth is, I’m not sure. I think the paintings are good, in spite of the fact that the subject matter is so…so western. He talked to Shell about it. She’d know better than I would.”
“What about his past?”
“What about it?”
“Did he have broken relationships? I mean, this gentleman was fifty-eight and lived alone.”
“I don’t know much about his past. Leonardo said he’d had a break-up a while back, but I don’t know anything about it.”
“And no family?”
“As far as I know, he had an older brother who died about a year ago.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I know about his personal life. We mostly talked about work-related things.”
Gonzalez was writing in his notebook. “Do you have of a name for the brother?”
“No, but he was probably a Hall. Leonardo will know maybe.”
“What about valuables in his home? Did you know anything about the value of his possessions?”
“Well, it’s easy to see his stuff is the real thing. I mean, that carpet in the living room alone!” Here Billie stopped and shook his head. “I think it’s worth a lot. I wouldn’t have put it on the floor! And he has paintings, numbered prints, tapestries, and his furniture and clock collection! Everything is antique! Dean Maxwell says even his books are valuable.”
“So a lot of valuable stuff,” said Gonzalez.
“Yes, his stuff is valuable, but your average Joe wouldn’t know. If someone wanted to steal from him, he would have had to know what he was looking at—Oh my God!” Billie said suddenly, his hands going up to his face, “Was he robbed? Is that why this happened?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to be asking the questions today, Mr. Morrison.”
“Oh, right. I hope he wasn’t robbed. To die over a bunch of stuff, even if it’s lovely stuff, would just be so, so, awful, wouldn’t it?”
“Mr. Morrison, is there anything you think I should know that I haven’t asked you about?”
“Not that I know of. I don’t know very much, I guess.”
“Can you tell me where you were this morning between six and nine?”
“I was home.”
“Anyone with you?”
Billie Morrison paused before he answered. “Part of the time. Leonardo goes out early for exercise on Fridays. He came back at, I don’t know, maybe seven? Maybe seven-thirty?”
“And you were alone during the time he was getting his exercise?”
“Yes.”
“Well, thank you. I’d like to speak with Mr. Parisi now.”
Chapter 8
When Shell got home after dropping Margie off at her house, Dean was ready to head down to the police station.
“I better drive. You must be feeling pretty tired,” he said.
“Yeah. It’s been a hard day, and it isn’t over.”
“How was Pierre?” he asked, as they got into the Cherokee. “Pierre” was the name Dean liked to use when talking about Margie and Donald’s baby, his own future nephew. He had started using the name mostly because it amused Margie, and it wasn’t a name he thought she was likely to choose. Somehow the four of them, Margie and Donald, Shell and Dean, had all gotten so they called the baby “Pierre.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be so used to calling him ‘Pierre’ I won’t be able to name him anything else!” Margie had said one day. “I’m actually getting so I love the name.” They had all laughed, and even Donald was getting used to it.
“Pierre was fine,” Shell answered. “He’s right on target for the second of June, but Margie’s blood sugar was elevated.”
“Is that okay?” Dean asked.
“It was just over the limit. They’re going to make her do a glucose tolerance test.”
“How bad is that?” he asked, looking worried.
“The doctor told her it’s pretty common toward the end of a pregnancy. If she has gestational diabetes, she’ll have to stick with a pretty strict diet, but it’s only four and half more weeks.”
“Unless Pierre comes late.”
“Right, but it still wouldn’t be very long.”
“Are you worried?” Dean wanted to know.
“No. Margie will do whatever she needs to do. She said the doctor said it was common and they’d help her manage it if it comes to that.”
“Okay,” he said, somewhat relieved. “I have some news that might interest you. You got a call on the land line from Jan.”
“Jan? Jan Hodge?”
“Yes.”
Shell had received a card from Jan on her thirtieth birthday, but she hadn’t received a call from her cousin since the occasion of her mother’s death two years earlier. Jan had offered to come to the funeral, but Shell had discouraged her. At the time, she had felt it would be strange for the cousin, the daughter of her father’s brother, to come to her mother’s service. She hadn’t wanted to feel she was taking care of company when she was grieving, and she and Jan had hardly had any contact since childhood. Even so, as far as Shell knew, her cousins Jan and Blake Hodge were her only living relatives.
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. She left a message on the answering machine while we were at the gallery. I didn’t notice it till after you and Margie had left. I saved it.”
“Did she say why she called?”
“Only that she’d like you to call her back and there was no emergency.”
“Okay. I’ll call her tonight.”
The station was just as it had been when Shell and Margie had gone in for an interview six months earlier. Shell and Dean sat on a bench in a waiting area with Billie while Leonardo talked to Sergeant Gonzalez.
“How was Estelle?” Billie asked.
“Horrible,” Dean answered.
“Yes, I know. What we put up with for our gallery!” Billie said. “She acts like Shell and I don’t exist. You’d think we were the cleaning staff rather than equal partners. She’s so uppy!”
“Why has she been nicer to Leonardo and Garrett?” Dean wanted to know.
“Well,” said Billie, “nice might be overstating the case. She’s just acted somewhat more respectful to them.”
“Any reason you know of?” Dean asked.
“Well, with Shell, I think she’s just plain jealous of her youth and beauty. With me, I suppose she envies my charm! Not that I didn’t turn a few heads in my day!” Billie was thirty-eight, only eight years older than Shell, and he often liked to say that he had passed his prime.
“Oh,” said Shell, “stop being ridiculous, Billie! Garrett introduced her to Leonardo in Dallas, and she told him she was thinking of selling some unknown works of her father’s. Once the gallery was getting started, Leonardo pursued her business, that’s all. So she feels a connection with him. She’d met Garrett in Dallas much earlier, so it’s not really all that weird that she ignored us and paid attention to them. Even I met Garrett in Dallas, like everyone else who had anything to do with any gallery, and I was only there a year and a half.”
“I guess you’re right. Pretty much everybody in the Dallas art world has met him,” said Billie, “I think Leonardo told me she had come up for a western art show, or something like that, and she met Garrett there years ago. Lots of people know…knew him. He’s been painting and dealing in art of all kinds for twenty-five years.”
Shell suddenly had an emotional moment and turned her face toward the window. Garrett had become a friend, and she could
hardly imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. As Billie looked at the back of her head, he began to feel emotional himself.
“Is there a memorial planned?” asked Dean, putting his arm around Shell.
“I already told Leonardo,” said Billie, “I think we should have it next weekend. Sergeant Gonzalez said the autopsy should be complete by then. Not that it matters. Leo says he wanted to be cremated.”
“Is there any family?” Dean asked.
“I think he just had an older brother who died last year. Leonardo says the brother was married, so Garrett’s sister-in-law may want to come. No parents. No cousins. Just a lot of friends from Dallas, of course, and us,” Billie answered.
“A week from tomorrow?” Shell asked.
“Yes, Saturday, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Saturday afternoon will make it easier for the people in Dallas to get down here,” said Shell.
Just then, Leonardo came out of the interview room, and Wilson followed him.
“Mr. Maxwell? Are you ready to speak with us?”
“Certainly,” Dean answered, and he headed into the interview room.
Leonardo sank onto the bench and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, saying nothing.
“How did it go?” Billie asked.
“Who knows?” he answered. “I just answered his damn questions. Please, just let me rest my eyes for a little while.”
Billie turned to Shell with a dejected look, but he held Leonardo’s hand in his own before whispering, “Maybe I should just take him home.”
“Of course. You should go home and rest. Drink some wine and relax if you can. I love you guys,” Shell said, as they stood up to leave.
“We love you, too, honey,” said Billie, dropping Leonardo’s hand so they could each give her a hug. “Take care of yourself and that tall drink of water you’ve snagged. He seems really tuned into you, and it makes me happy to see you with someone who gets you,” Billie said.
“Thanks, Billie. Do you think he does?” she asked, suddenly curious about how Billie saw her relationship with Dean.
“Honey, Bradley was rich and cute, but Dean is kind, smart, as strong as The Rock of Gibraltar, and damn handsome. Leo thinks so too. I say, keep this one.”
There wasn’t a lot of new information for Shell or Dean to give Sergeant Gonzalez. They took turns going into the interview room and telling him everything they knew about Garrett and repeating what they had already told him that morning. Shell did have a few questions to answer about Garrett’s thoughts on the Travis paintings, but she had little to tell that he hadn’t heard from Billie and Leo. She asked the sergeant about whether or not there had been any open windows at the house that morning, but he had responded that he would be asking the questions.
On the way home, Dean suggested they pick up dinner as neither of them was going to be in the mood to cook. They stopped in at Micklethwait, a barbecue trailer just a little east of downtown, and ordered some lean brisket and coleslaw before going home. Dean opened a bottle of Pinot Noir, and they sat at the table nibbling at their meal and sipping the wine. Neither of them had any appetite.
“Did Gonzalez ask you about Garrett’s cleaning service?”
“No. Did he ask you?”
“No. Did you say anything about Carmen?”
“No. I won’t talk to him in front of Wilson. I’m composing a text in my head right now. Maybe Gonzalez will meet me for coffee or something.”
“Okay, but soon, right?”
“Right,” said Dean, sighing.
“Did you notice any open windows at Garrett’s this morning?” Shell asked.
“One. I was so shocked I didn’t even look for them at first, but after you called nine-one-one and spoke with Gonzalez, I took a walk around the house checking,” he answered.
“And one was open?”
“The window in the master bath was open just about an inch. That was it.”
“How big is that window?”
“Tiny. I couldn’t get through it, and the tub under it was clean as a whistle.”
“Do you think it’s big enough that I could have gotten through it?”
“Probably, but you’d have had to climb into it by stepping on the tub, and everything in there looked so undisturbed that I can’t imagine anyone did that. There was a row of bottles on the sill.”
“So, either someone had a key to get in his house, or he let them in,” she said.
“That’s the conclusion I came to. Do you know of his being in a relationship?”
“No. He mentioned getting over a break-up. I’m pretty sure he was gay.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“How could you tell? It took me awhile to decide, and I was around him quite a bit.”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling, maybe.”
“Did it bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? If I was happy to be friends with Billie and Leonardo, why would Garrett’s preferences bother me? He seemed like a nice guy. Besides, if all the guys my girlfriend works with are gay, I don’t have to worry about them hitting on her.”
“You wouldn’t really worry about that!”
“Of course I would! You’re…extremely attractive.”
“Well, whether or not that’s true, you know I’d never—”
“I know. I’m not saying you would. I’m just saying I’m a little insecure.”
“I’m pretty insecure myself.”
“You seem supremely self-confident.”
“So do you.”
“It’s all an act,” he said with a little smile. “Maybe we should turn in early and reassure each other.”
Shell smiled back. “I’d better call Jan first. Saying there’s no emergency doesn’t mean nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay. I’ve got some work to do on my laptop for a few minutes anyway,” he answered, but as she passed him to go into the other room, Dean reached for her hand. “Shell,” he said, looking up at her, “you know I need you, don’t you? You know how much you mean to me, right?”
He pushed his chair back from the table and pulled her onto his lap. “Let me hold you for a minute,” he said. “I know all this trouble means we can’t go to California for awhile, but I still want to go as soon as we can make it happen. Do you think it’s going to be possible?”
“I hope so.”
She put her arms around his neck but didn’t say any more. She was afraid to speak right now, afraid she would betray her deep longing to be loved by this man. Even now he wasn’t saying he loved her, only that he needed her, and she knew there was a difference. There seemed to be a pointed avoidance of the word. Tears were close, aching in her throat, as she rested her face against his neck and breathed in the fragrance of him. Garrett’s death had shaken her, reminded her of losing both her parents, and everything that mattered in her life seemed fragile now. All could be lost in a moment. Even the gallery, with everything she had invested in terms of her work and her inheritance, was teetering on the edge of failure.
“Are you with me, Shell?” he asked.
“I’m very much with you,” she said at last, but she couldn’t trust herself to say more.
The call to Jan actually gave Shell a little lift. Her cousin was coming down from Kansas to Dallas for a science education conference, and she was hoping Shell could come up and see her.
“I’d love to!” said Shell. “When?”
“Well, actually, I’m flying out Sunday night. I’ll be at The Hilton Anatole downtown. I can pull some strings and get you a room there, and we could have dinner Monday night and maybe brunch the next day. I know it’s short notice—”
“Well, it is short notice, but I happen to have a little bit of free time this week. My gallery is going to be closed till Wednesday.”
“Then you can do it?”
“I think so. Let me talk to my boyfriend, and I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“I’d love to meet Dean, by the way,” said Jan. “Yo
u could bring him along. The more the merrier!”
“I’ll ask him!” said Shell, having her first truly happy moment of the day.
But her happiness was short-lived.
“Shell,” said Dean, after she’d joyfully asked him to go with her to meet Jan, “I’ve cancelled on Melinda Gardner twice. I don’t think it’s fair to do it again.”
The disappointment in Shell’s face was so obvious that Dean felt sick. “She’s my only family, Dean,” she said, not realizing that she seemed to be pleading. “She has a brother, but he’s off in Europe somewhere, and I almost can’t remember him. I don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”
“I know, Shell. You’re going to have to forgive me for this. I don’t think I can cancel. Think of Melinda. Her business is important to her. She’s been so great about understanding the last two times I cancelled. You understand, don’t you?”
There was a long pause. The first time Dean had cancelled with Melinda had been because Shell had developed a sore throat and a high fever. Dean had cancelled and taken her to the doctor. The second cancellation had happened today. Shell’s eyes looked a little glassy before she answered, “Of course. Of course you have to take care of Melinda’s business.”
She didn’t mean for her words to sound as if she was hurt, but they did. She meant for them to say she knew he had to do the right thing, but in her heart, Dean’s choice seemed to say more than that he wanted to do right by this client. It seemed to her that he was telling her where his priorities lay, and as much as she wanted to see his decision as a matter of honor, she felt that Dean was considering Melinda’s needs above her own.
“Look,” he said, “how about I buy us plane tickets and we fly up to Kansas and see Jan whenever you’d like? How about that? We’ll plan ahead for a time that works for both of us—”
“No. It’s okay. I don’t feel secure enough with her to do that. We hardly know each other. It’s fine. I’ll just go and see her, and maybe we’ll get another chance sometime.”
