by Roslyn Woods
“Okay. Let’s look at TVs!” She was so enthusiastic about buying things, Shell had to shake her head. She hadn’t even mentioned her plan to buy a patio set.
After looking in the electronics store for upwards of an hour, Shell decided to look online at prices. She was pretty sure about what she wanted, but she wasn’t interested in just getting something today the way Margie was.
“Come on!” Margie said. “I can just see us lounging around on your new couch watching chick flicks while Donald’s away on business.”
Margie was enjoying their day. Since all the trouble earlier in the week she had hardly had a moment of really getting away from Dean’s problems.
“Just let me check prices and see if I can save a little. I promise I’ll get a TV soon.”
They stopped for lunch at The Omelettry on Burnet and 49th. It had the funky feel of Austin, the food was good, and it was cheap. Shell remembered this place from coming here with Margie when they were in school. To her, it always looked like a converted gas station that had been knocked askew so that the door was in the wrong place. Margie picked a table in the far corner of the dining area.
“I thought Dean looked so much better today, almost like himself,” she said after they had ordered.
“I thought he looked better too,” said Shell, checking her buzzing phone.
“Who is it?” Margie wanted to know.
“It’s Brad. He keeps texting me, trying to call me, sending emails. I want him to stop.”
“Have you considered talking to him?” Margie asked.
“I talked to him once and told him I’m not really mad. I told him it’s over. He doesn’t love me and I don’t love him. End of story,” she said.
“Only it’s not the end of the story,” said her friend. “He’s even called me trying to find out where you are.”
“Oh, Margie, I’m sorry. I never expected him to bother you!”
“It’s okay. I told him you were doing fine but that if he wanted to talk to you, you’d have to agree to it. I wouldn’t be the one to tell him where you are.”
Shell put her hand on Margie’s arm in silent thanks.
Then, frowning a little, Margie added, “He said something that bothered me a little, though.”
“What’s that?” Shell asked.
“He said he’d find you with or without me. Doesn’t that sound a little aggressive?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She was dismissing the idea. “He’s such a kid. Don’t worry about it Margie. He’s harmless.”
“A big guy with a lot of money who’s not used to being left. Hmm. He may not give up as easily as you think.” Margie wanted Shell to take her concern seriously, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not right then anyway.
“I need you to help me find a gallery to show in,” Shell said, changing the subject. “Maybe we could go out to Laguna Gloria and see what’s going on in the art world?”
“We should do that, and there are lots of small galleries you might consider joining. Your paintings are so beautiful, I can’t imagine anyone not begging you to join them!”
Shell was pleased with the supportive feelings coming from Margie, but she knew galleries weren’t as easy to join as her friend might think. There were lots of artists and there was lots of competition in a town as artsy as Austin.
Margie’s back was to the windows of the restaurant, and Shell was noticing people coming in and out of the place from the opposite side of the table as they enjoyed their lunch. After a time, Margie saw her face freeze.
“What is it, Shell?” she asked.
“Look,” she said quietly.
A black Mercedes had just parked outside the building. Margie turned her head for a moment. “What?” she asked.
“Never mind looking. Look at me for now,” said Shell in a quiet voice. “Be natural. I think it’s the guy I saw leaving Dean’s house.”
“Kojak? Can I look now?” asked Margie.
“Not yet, but let’s see if I can get a look at him.”
There he was, dressed very much as he had been the day before. Dark jacket, blue jeans, shaved head. Who was he?
“Lean toward me and smile and keep talking. He can’t hear us, but I don’t want him to think we’re looking at him. I think he’s ordering something at the counter. Yeah, they’re not seating him, so he’s picking up takeout.” Shell watched for a minute as Margie struggled with her desire to turn and look. “Now he’s paying for it. Now he’s coming this way. No! Don’t turn your head. Look at me. He’s going to the men’s room, that’s all. Okay, let’s pay and get to the car. Hurry!” Shell was already leaving tip money on the table and gathering up her purse and phone.
“Oh, my goodness!” said Margie, digging two twenties from her bag and handing them to the startled young woman at the cash register. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We’ve just had some scary news and need to rush to the hospital. This should cover it.” And the two women hurried out the door.
“Well she got a good tip!” said Margie as she started the minivan.
“Yeah, I think you paid more than twice what lunch was,” said Shell. “Look, there he is. He’s got his lunch and he’s carrying it to his car.”
“Well I’m following him,” said Margie. “At least I’m going to try.”
“Are you sure? What if he spots us? This is a dangerous man, Margie!” Shell warned.
“And I’m a dangerous woman! Don’t mess with Texas!” she said.
“Oh, my God!” said Shell. “I’ve never seen this side of you!”
The Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot and Margie waited briefly and then pulled out, too. “Can you see him?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s in front of the white pickup. Just stay where you are. Don’t let him spot us!” said Shell.
They were following him south on Burnet toward 45th. Was he going to turn there? Yes, he was turning toward Hyde Park. “Can you still see him?” Margie asked again.
“Yeah, can’t you?” Shell asked back.
“Yes, but I’m doubting myself.”
“Just don’t get right next to him. Stay back a ways.”
They crossed Guadalupe and stayed on 45th.
“Where are we going?” asked Margie.
“All I know is we’re headed east. Oh, no! More traffic!”
“Oh, my God, what do I do?”
Two cars had squeezed between them and they were struggling to keep their eyes on the Mercedes. Then, suddenly, the light at Duval turned red. The two cars in front of the minivan stopped and Margie hit her brakes.
“Oh, shit!” she said.
Chapter 13
Margie parked behind Shell’s car and got out. She was mad at herself.
“You can’t blame yourself. You did the best you could,” said Shell.
“I don’t even want to tell Dean. We didn’t even get the license plate.”
“Oh, but we did,” said Shell. “SJS 1627.”
Margie was so happy she ran around the car and hugged her friend. “You doll!” she shouted. “You did the only thing we really needed to do!”
“Yeah, but I had that in the parking lot of The Omelettry,” said Shell smiling.
They took the few small purchases into the house and Margie texted Dean. Can we come over?
Then, in a minute, the reply came. Yes. Use the back door.
Margie and Shell went out through the laundry room and walked through Shell’s yard to the gate.
“You need a patio table and chairs, Shell,” said Margie as she looked around the yard. Shell almost laughed.
In a moment Sadie bounded up to Shell hoping for some attention and lay at her feet. Shell couldn’t resist her. She bent down and stroked her head.
“Hi, Sadie!” she said.
Dean was standing at the top of his steps. “Please come in, ladies,” he said sounding more chipper than he had all week.
“Okay, tell us why the back door,” said Margie, once they were inside.
“I
’ve been thinking,” he said. “It’s possible the house is being watched. I don’t want anybody getting a clear picture that the house next to mine is connected to me in any way. I’m thinking if they’re targeting my house, they might find out your house is my house too,” he said, looking at Shell. “Make sense?”
“Oh, no,” said Margie, looking at her friend. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“I don’t think they will,” Dean added, “but we should probably keep movement from one house to the other through the back gate where no one sees us. It’s a just in case thing.”
“Not to be negative,” said Shell, “but isn’t home ownership a matter of pubic record? I mean, can’t anyone see who owns the houses on any street?”
“Yes,” said Dean, “but I just inherited both of these houses. I doubt that the records have changed yet. They’re probably still in my mother’s name.”
“Even so, isn’t her name Maxwell?”
“Yeah, but I guess I’m counting on the fact that this criminal isn’t as smart as you,” he said. “I don’t live in your house. Let’s just don’t let him see me going over there and vice versa.”
“Good idea!” said Margie. “I’m going to be so glad when this mystery is solved!”
“We have a little bit of good news,” added Shell glancing at Margie.
“You tell him,” she said.
“We saw the intruder, and we got his license plate,” said Shell.
“What?” asked Dean.
“It was fine,” said Margie. “We were having lunch at the Omelettry, and Shell spotted his car, and then she spotted Kojak himself buying lunch, and then we followed him, but we lost him, but Shell got his license plate!” Margie said breathlessly.
“Oh, my God, are you girls crazy?” he asked. “No more of this kind of thing! No following anyone under any circumstances. Think about it. This man is probably the guy who killed Amanda. Don’t do anything like this again.”
Dean looked at his sister to see if his words had sunk in. “Are you hearing me, Margie? Promise me.”
Shell could see he was actually upset, and she knew he must be genuinely worried about his sister’s welfare. She was all the family he had, after all, and he had just lost Amanda.
“You’re right, Dean,” said Shell. “I think this was my fault. I saw him and I told Margie, and before we knew it we were following him,” she paused. “We never expected to run into the guy, so of course we didn’t have a plan in place as to how to behave if this unlikely thing happened.”
Margie looked as if she might fall apart at any moment. “Oh, honey, don’t be upset,” he said pulling her into his arms. “I just can’t lose you, Margie. You’re all I’ve got. Don’t you understand that?”
Then Margie really did start to cry. “I just wanted to help you, Dean. You’re important to me, damn it!”
“I know, I know,” he said, “and I appreciate it. I just want you to be careful. Not everybody gets to have a little sister as good as you.”
“Oh, now you’re buttering me up,” said Margie laughing a little as she wiped her eyes on the tissue Shell had offered to her. “Don’t stop,” she added, and Shell and Dean laughed too.
“Hey, I’ve got my surveillance all set up. Come look,” he said. They followed him through the house and he showed them tiny cameras placed in strategic places around the house. “I even attached one to each side of the front and back porches, and one on either side of the house in case someone is prowling around.”
“I’d never know they were here,” said Shell.
“That’s the idea,” Dean said with a smile.
“How does it work?” Shell asked.
“It’s motion activated and sends video to designated computers and even phones. I could actually have video sent right to your phone or mine if someone is in my house or trying to get in. It’s all wireless, so if one camera is taken out, the others are still working. And they’re so small, you almost can’t see them.”
“Where’s the recording stored?” asked Shell.
“It’s in the cloud, so there’s no space limit. It’s set so it messages me when there’s significant movement recorded. Then I can access it and look at what’s happening from a remote place. I can even sit here at the monitor and see what the cameras outside are picking up.”
“And you can look at it after the fact? Like hours later?” asked Margie.
“Sure. Real time or later,” said Dean.
“Can you set it up to send the same email and text message to Donald and me?” she wanted to know.
“I could, but you’re not going to enjoy getting messaged every time the mailman comes.”
“I see what you mean,” said Margie. “But you should do it anyway. We can ignore it when we see it’s nothing significant.”
“What about audio?” asked Shell.
“It records that too, but I only have audio set up in the living room. There are two cameras in there, and two microphones.”
“And it’s stored in the cloud too?” Shell was imagining a huge gray cloud, full of CDs, hovering over Austin.
“Yes.”
“How would you feel about having me messaged too?” asked Shell.
“Okay, but it will probably just annoy you.”
“I’ll be okay with it,” she answered.
Maybe this would help solve the mystery of the intruder, but the best thing about it, as far as Shell was concerned, was the fact that Dean felt he was doing something about the situation he was in. He wasn’t feeling as helpless as he had last night.
“Did anyone see you putting the cameras on the front porch?” asked Margie.
“I don’t think so. I looked at all the cars parked on the street and they all appeared to be empty. And I did it quickly. It was pretty simple really.”
“What’s next?” Margie asked.
“Give Gonzalez the license plate number, I guess.”
Chapter 14
The leaves fell from the trees on Barrow Avenue like feathers. They floated down in slow motion, drifting a little in the breeze, and he decided it was like a dream. Yes, that was it. It was like a long, and very strange, dream. One of those dreams where you were doing something you would never do in real life, and it seemed perfectly natural. Or maybe it seemed odd, but oddly okay. Nothing mattered. Soon you would wake up and find you had been sleeping.
Sleep. That was probably what he needed. He had hardly slept since it happened. It wasn’t that he was particularly upset. He was busy, and he had needed to explain the situation to Hector. And Hector had seen the sense in making the evidence point in a new direction.
There wasn’t much time for his search. That was sure. He sat, waiting up the street, watching for another chance to go in. He had been through the big house twice, right after he saw the Cherokee pull out, and he had checked again the next day. It was like a gift that the dog had been taken. All he needed was a little time to check through the rooms, the closets, and maybe the attic of the other one. On second thought, he could skip the attic. She wasn’t the type to think of a difficult-to-reach hiding place, and he doubted she had ever climbed a ladder in her life. Once he found it he could just take his cut, give the rest to Hector, and hit the road. Hector wouldn’t have time to check and see that any was missing.
He was glad he had been given a few days. It would have been weird if Hector had known where he was looking. If Hector had known where it was, he’d already have found it and left him empty handed.
Good thing he had gotten the keys. It would be easy to get in and out quickly. He was sure he would find what he was looking for in a short order. He kept his eyes on the Cherokee and the Corolla. He knew his chance was coming.
Chapter 15
It rained really hard on Sunday night. The thunder was deafening. Lightning lit up the sky, and even Shell’s bedroom, with brilliant light. The news had said a cold front was meeting a storm system coming up from the Gulf and there would be up to six inches of rain.
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Shell was awake anyway. She had taken her laptop to bed with her and was scrolling through pictures on Craigslist for bookshelves and occasional tables. Dean’s surveillance system had messaged her twice today. Once, when a big dog wandered onto his front porch, and once when Jehovah’s witnesses had come knocking. Dean hadn’t opened the door.
Today, Shell’s new couch, armchair, and coffee table had been delivered just as the sky had started clouding up. They had gotten them inside, and she had spent the next hour arranging and rearranging the room as it started to rain outside. It was going to be a beautiful living room, especially once she had a chance to paint the walls. She had put one of her paintings, a Cezanne-like landscape of a forest and river, on the east wall and decided on the green paint chip she had found at Lowe’s.
Another clap of thunder was so loud she jumped. She had never liked storms, and this one was particularly unnerving. It would be easier if she weren’t alone. I need to see about getting a dog, she told herself. She peeked through the shade at Dean’s office window. The light was still on. Somehow that was comforting. More thunder, more lightning, and then, just when it couldn’t get any worse, the lights went out.
Oh shit! I don’t even know where to find a flashlight.
The light from the laptop was still on, so if she conserved the battery she would have it if she needed to see. Even so, she didn’t want to close the computer. She wanted the light now. I’m just allowing myself to be afraid. I can handle this, she told herself. She knew she could, but she really didn’t like it.
Maybe the electricity would come back on before she’d had time to run the battery out. She clicked on her search bar and typed in Austin galleries. That was it. She would find some galleries to check out in the next few days. She could do that, and she could visit some places selling furniture, and she could hunt down a TV with price-matching from Amazon.
Another clap of thunder sent a shiver down her back.
Just then her phone buzzed. Dean was texting, You okay? I saw your light a while ago so I guess you’re awake and in the dark.
It pleased Shell to know he noticed her light. She picked up her phone and typed back, I’m fine but I hate storms. Then she waited. He wasn’t texting back. Was that it? Then it came.
