The Murder Motif: An Austin, Texas Art Mystery (the Michelle Hodge Series Book 2)

by Roslyn Woods

  “Sometimes I think you should just go for it and open your own bakery,” he said, leaning against the counter. He was glad she had decided to quit her restaurant job a few months earlier because it had been thankless, but having her own business seemed more promising. Right now, though, he wanted her to focus on helping to get his business squared away. They were doing okay, and she seemed so much happier taking this breather from the work she had done before.

  “I know. I think about it, and I just might do it one of these days,” she said.

  “You’re having some too, right?” he asked, taking a nibble from the plate with his fingers.

  “I shouldn’t,” she said.

  “I’m only having it if you’re having it,” he said.

  “Right!” she answered sarcastically, knowing nothing could keep him away from any baked treat from her kitchen.

  They sat down together at the small table and tasted the bread. “Do you know how lucky we are?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she answered, putting her hand over his. “When I think of all the trouble Dean is having, I look at us and can’t believe how good things are.” They ate some of the bread, but they were both thinking.

  “I thought he had things so bad when he and Amanda split up, but now that’s multiplied about a hundred times,” said Donald. He looked at his wife and saw the dark look that had come into her eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” said Margie, “and I think we’re going to have to try to figure this thing out ourselves. Maybe we can give Gonzalez some leads to work on,” she ventured.

  “I’m not sure if I think he’s even going to try,” he said.

  “But we can’t give up, Donald. They’re treating him like a suspect.”

  “I’m glad we can see Dean’s home surveillance, at least.”

  “But it’s not enough,” said his wife with a slightly desperate sound in her voice.

  “You sound like you’ve got some thoughts about it already.”

  She looked across the table at him and tried to choose her words carefully.

  “We’ve both said we don’t think Danny is an honest character. We could start with him.”

  Donald and Margie had only met Danny once, at Dean’s wedding. Donald hadn’t liked him much. For one thing, he had been overly complimentary to Margie, almost as if he was coming on to her. There was something slick about him.

  “I didn’t like him, but I can’t imagine anyone killing his own sister,” he said simply.

  “I know, but who is he involved with? Maybe someone he knows did it.”

  “Well this isn’t really very promising,” said Donald, doubtfully.

  “But I need to do something. This worrying about Dean is driving me crazy.” She looked away for a moment, and Donald could see she was struggling with tears. He was almost unable to bear any sign of unhappiness in her. He leaned forward, giving in a little.

  “How could we start? What are you thinking of?”

  “How about just finding Danny and talking to him?”

  “Hasn’t Dean been trying to call him every day since Amanda was killed?”

  He had been, and she was pretty sure Sgt. Gonzalez and his partner were trying to find him, too. At least, Dean thought as much, because of the questions he had been asked.

  “There’s the bar,” said Margie.

  “I’m sure Dean has called the bar. What are you getting at?”

  “I just think we could go over there and have a beer or two and see if we can learn anything.”

  “You mean me.” He said it as a statement, and she laughed a little as she rubbed a tear away with her napkin.

  “Maybe, or if you think that’s weird, you could take me and Shell,” she said it in as offhand a way as she could, and got up to wash her hands at the sink.

  “I don’t know. Suppose there are dangerous people in there?”

  “Honey,” she said turning toward him and sounding exasperated, “it’s a public place! It’s an up and coming hipster spot. Nothing’s going to happen in that bar.”

  It sounded reasonable, but Donald had no idea what Margie hoped to find.

  “I guess I don’t see how it can hurt if we just go over there and have a couple of beers.”

  She walked around the table then and leaned over his shoulder to kiss his cheek. “I love you,” she said. She picked up her cell phone from its charger on the counter and swiped the screen.

  “When are you planning on going?” Donald asked, surprised.

  “Tonight. You didn’t think I was planning to just wait till Dean gets arrested did you?”

  “Okay, but are they even open on Monday night?”

  “Yup.”

  “And how do you know that?” he asked.

  “Already checked,” she said. “Hi Shell! You busy?”

  Chapter 17

  Shell put on her little black dress and high-heeled pumps. She took a little extra time with her make-up, choosing a deeper shade of gray for her eye shadow and adding a bright pink gloss to her lips. She fluffed up her thick, ash-blond hair, gave it a spritz of hairspray, put on her silver shawl, and grabbed her purse.

  Looking back at the mirror as she headed for the door she had to admit she looked pretty good. Brad had taken her to an art opening is this outfit, she thought absently. On that evening she had worn her hair in a sleek chignon, and she had put diamond studs in her ears. Brad had whistled, but she didn’t care about that now. Tonight she was hoping that she could just get the bartender at Danny’s Place to talk to her.

  Margie giggled when she saw Shell climbing the steps of her front porch.

  “You look hot!” she said. “I don’t know if I want Donald to see you!” she laughed. “Donald! Come see Shell!”

  Margie didn’t look bad herself. Shell hadn’t seen her dressed up like this in years. She wore a short purple dress with a gauzy cover that just gave the suggestion of the tight-fitting dress underneath. “Ooh! Matching shoes!” said Shell eyeing the purple pumps.

  Donald came into the living room looking sheepish in his blue shirt and slacks. He had combed his thinning hair and was pulling on a gray corduroy jacket. “I don’t look good enough to go out with a couple of babes!” he said. “Is this okay?”

  “Of course!” said Margie. “You look marvelous!” she said, imitating Billy Crystal. “Let’s go!”

  Donald drove the minivan and Shell sat in back. “Now listen,” he said, “we’re going to have a couple of beers. Actually, I’m only having one, since I’m driving, but we’re just gathering information. That’s it!”

  Shell could tell he was worried about sleuthing in Danny’s bar, but she couldn’t imagine it could be at all dangerous. They were just going to keep their eyes open and maybe talk to the bartender. She felt bad about not making Dean aware of their plans, but she knew he would throw a fit if he knew, and she felt sure someone had to try to get some information about the people who might know something about Amanda’s death. Maybe her brother’s place held a clue.

  This part of Austin east of the I-35 had become a busy place in the last few years. Shell was surprised at the number of hot spots she saw and how busy it was for a Monday night. It was only 8:30, and people were already spilling across 6th Street without regard to crosswalks. She had read that this was a problem down here and that drivers needed to be careful.

  They pulled up at the curb a couple of blocks east of Danny’s Place because there was no parking any closer. Donald thought about letting the girls out by the bar so they wouldn’t have to walk in their heels, but he didn’t want them out of his sight. It was a two-minute walk, and Donald was giving instructions all the way. “Don’t go anywhere I can’t see you,” he said.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Donald!” said Margie. “We may have to use the restroom!”

  “Okay, but use the buddy system,” he said, and the women started laughing.

  “I haven’t heard that phrase since I was at camp when I was twelve!” said Margie
.

  Donald laughed a little too, but Shell knew he was seriously nervous about tonight. “We promise to stay within sight except when using the restroom,” she said, “and we promise to use the buddy system if we go to powder our noses.”

  “Thanks,” said Donald. Then, looking at his wife, “You too. You follow the same rules.”

  “Okay, but you stay in our sights too,” she said, putting her arm snuggly through his as they walked in through the courtyard with its cement brick walls. It was all painted gray and black and had an ultra-modern look. In the center of the outside area was a huge oak tree that formed an umbrella over the tables beneath it, but it was too nippy for anyone to be out here tonight. A flashing neon that said Danny’s Place reminded them why they were here.

  It was crowded inside. All the tables appeared to be taken, and there were lots of people standing. They headed for a couple of open spots at the bar. “I’ll stand,” Donald offered, and the two women stepped up into the tall chairs.

  The bartender was waiting on people at the other end of the bar, and Shell was taking in the place. It definitely seemed ritzy for this part of town, but she had to admit she hadn’t been in any bars in the area for three or four years. And it was loud. People were talking and laughing. She had to shake her head at how old she was feeling. At twenty-nine she was already seeing that this was not her scene. They had thought they would be noticed, but they might as well be invisible.

  “Can I get you ladies something?” asked the big guy behind the shiny, granite bar. He was about thirty-five, and Hispanic, with big brown eyes and a full head of brown hair. And he seemed friendly.

  “How about a margarita?” asked Margie. Shell nodded, and Donald leaned into the bar and shouted above the noise, “Yeah, how about two blended margaritas and one Fireman’s 4?”

  “Salt on the margarita glasses?”

  “Yes,” said Donald.

  The bartender nodded and turned away. It was so noisy Shell was ready to give up on the idea of speaking with anyone about Danny. She looked around the room. There were candles at each table and colored sconces of red, blue, green, and yellow around the perimeter of the space. Modern-looking mirrors in odd shapes covered the walls and reflected the low lights. Someone was playing Night Life on the piano in a corner and being completely ignored.

  She looked at the tables. For the most part, there were groups of maybe four or five, but there were also tables with couples. Along the length of one wall was a section that was elevated about three feet on a deck-like floor. Up there she could see booths with groups of four, but at the far end of the elevated area was a table with the only lone person in the room. It was a man, maybe forty. Shell couldn’t be sure in the dark. He was drinking and watching the room. Just beyond him a swinging door kept opening and closing, and Shell realized it must be the door that led to the restrooms.

  The drinks came, and a table opened up on the floor. Donald signaled the women to come with him and they followed him through the crowd to seats at the table.

  “This place is crazy busy,” said Margie.

  “Yeah, it’s an education for me,” said Shell. “I remember bars in Austin being a lot less glitzy.”

  It was certainly a glitzy crowd. The men weren’t wearing ties, but they wore dress shirts and slacks. The women wore mostly dresses and heels. Shell felt like she was in a bar in downtown Dallas. She and Margie were certainly not overdressed. It wasn’t the scene of just a few years earlier when bars here were filled with Austin-weird. These people were mostly urban professionals, and they either had money to burn or wanted to look as if they did.

  Donald was looking the crowd over like a cop. He had already noticed the guy in the corner and whispered something to Margie. She had nodded and looked the other way. Shell couldn’t hear them, but she was taking mental notes to share later.

  The margaritas were good, and a girl was coming around with complimentary appetizers. A small plate of tomato bruschetta was put on the little table in front of them, and Margie tasted a piece and nodded at the others. Donald noted that the drinks were so overpriced that the complimentary tidbits ought to be free.

  They sat for a while, pretending to visit while they took in the place. Shell noticed the dark-haired girl with the appetizers was taking orders and going up to the bar every little bit. “Frank! I need Two Fat Tires, and three Left Hand Torpedos!” she called.

  Shell decided to try again at the bar.

  “You need another drink, Miss?” asked the big guy who must be Frank.

  “Yes, thanks,” she answered.

  “And what about your friends?” he asked.

  “Yes, could you give us two more margaritas?”

  “Sure, and for the gentleman?”

  “No, he’s driving.” The bartender nodded and went to work rubbing fresh glass rims with a lime wedge and dipping them in a tub of salt. Shell climbed up into the empty barstool and watched, and he looked up and smiled at her.

  “My, you’re just a real expert!” she said, trying to sound friendly.

  “Thanks,” he answered over the noise. “I make a lot of these.”

  “I’ll bet. How long have you worked here?”

  “Since we opened two years ago.” He was noticing her now, looking up every little bit and smiling.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize you’d been open that long.”

  “Time flies,” he said with a grin.

  Just then the dark-haired waitress was back and standing next to Shell’s barstool. “Two more Torpedos, Frank, and fuck you!” She glanced at Shell and glared briefly before she turned around and disappeared into the crowd again.

  Shell gave Frank a startled look.

  “She’s just kidding around,” he said, but his manner was certainly dampened.

  Shell realized she had better get her information while she still could, so she smiled as if she bought his line. “You must know Danny pretty well then, if you’ve been here two years,” Shell ventured with her heart pounding.

  “Yeah, I do. Do you know Danny?” He tilted his head and gave her an odd look.

  “Only a little. We met at a wedding and had a nice conversation once,” she said. “I was hoping I’d run into him here. He said I should say hi next time I was in the bar.” She was watching for any change in demeanor.

  “That’s too bad. He’s out of town right now,” said the bartender.

  “Oh, damn. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  The bartender put the margaritas in front of her on the bar and answered, “Sure don’t, but if you give me your name I’ll tell him you said hi.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of you. You could just tell him Michelle came by.”

  “Michelle who?” he asked, giving her a very direct look.

  “Michelle Smith. He’ll remember,” she said smiling as she took the drinks. “Thanks. These look perfect!” And she went back to the table. Smith? Why couldn’t I think of a better name than Smith?

  Donald had watched the exchange and noticed the bartender went in the back as Shell carried the drinks back to the table. She and Margie tasted their second glasses, and Margie and Donald watched the bar from their side of the table. In a minute the bartender came back followed by a bald man. The second man took a cloth and polished the counter as he looked out across the room. Margie was pretty sure the bartender spoke to him and nodded in their direction. She was ready to get out of there, but Shell needed to see this guy, so she tapped her foot under the table and gave her a look. Shell turned and pretended to see someone she knew across the room. It was so crowded it would be hard to tell who she was looking at, but it gave her a chance to glance back at the bar.

  It was him, Kojak, the man who had been in Dean’s house! Her heart thumped against her ribs, but she smiled and waved as if she were trying to get the attention of someone across the room. A young man actually waved back. Then she laughed and her friends joined in as if there was some great joke.

  “We should probably go,”
said Donald through an artificial smile.

  “I think so too,” said Shell.

  “I’ve got to use the restroom first,” said Margie. “Can you take care of the bill?” she asked Donald.

  “Yeah, of course, but hurry.”

  “We’ll be right back.” And the two women got up and headed for the steps that led up past the booths to the ladies’ room.

  The loner was still there, staring out across the crowd. Margie got a good look at him on their way past. Once in the ladies’ room, she looked at Shell and said, “I know that guy from somewhere!”

  “Who?”

  “The loner!” she said, pulling a lipstick from her purse and checking her image in the mirror.

  “At the table by the swinging door?”

  “Yup. I recognize him, but I’m not sure from where.”

  A couple of women pushed into the restroom then, talking a mile a minute and laughing as they pushed on doors to find empty stalls.

  “Let’s get out of here, Margie!” said Shell in a whisper.

  When they came out Donald was waiting by the swinging door.

  “You ladies ready to go?”

  “Yeah, we should head out,” said Margie.

  The three pushed their way to the exit and out into the courtyard. Shell bumped into a tall man leaning against the wall outside and nearly fell, but he caught her and stood her up again.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up into his eyes for a moment.

  “My fault,” he said. “I was waiting for someone and was right in the way.”

  “Well, excuse me,” Shell repeated as she hurried after Donald and Margie out onto the street. For some reason, they all felt an urgency about hurrying away from the area. Margie looked at Shell and said, “I’m losing these,” as she pulled off her heels and put them under her arm. Shell did the same. Then the three almost ran the two blocks to the car.

  Chapter 18

  Just from the sound of her voice on the phone, Wilson had decided Linda Morrison was going to be attractive. It turned out he was right. She was tallish, and she wore her curly dark hair about shoulder-length. She had an athletic look that he thought could be sexy if a woman wasn’t overly slim, and she wasn’t. She didn’t have the soft beauty of Michelle Hodge, the nicest looking woman he had met on the job, but she was cute, and he didn’t at all mind the fact that they were going to interview her. Too bad Gonzalez insisted on doing all the talking.