by Roslyn Woods
Chapter 21
As soon as they arrived at the house on 16th Street, Donald asked Dean to come have a look at his new computer. He said he needed advice about setting up the billing program for his counseling business. Shell wondered if this was a ruse so Margie could tell her how she and Donald wanted to broach the subject of their “research” with Dean. It was.
“I think we should wait and tell him after we’ve eaten. Maybe during dessert,” she said as she pulled the large green salad from the fridge. “Oh, can you make that wonderful salad dressing of yours?”
“Sure,” said Shell, and she walked over to the cupboard in search of olive oil and salt. “Anyway, who’s bringing it up?” she continued.
“Donald. Dean got so upset when he heard about our little car chase that I almost can’t bear telling him about our sleuthing at Danny’s Place.” Margie looked a little nervous, and Shell figured she was right to worry. She didn’t think Dean was going to like their taking on detective roles.
“You just have to be brave and honest, Margie.” Shell was chopping a clove of garlic on the wooden cutting board. “You’re a grown woman with a strong intelligence of your own, and you have a deep interest in the welfare of your only sibling. You decided to do this research for good reasons. Don’t let him bully you.”
“That sounds good!” said Margie. “Now let’s see if you can be brave too!”
“I don’t have as much to lose as you and Donald. He’s your family. Maybe I should bring it up. He’s less likely to get mad at me. I’m not his little sister.”
“You know,” said Margie, “you’re tougher than you used to be.”
“I’m not.”
“You know what you think,” she insisted.
“You met me when I was nineteen. Let’s hope I’ve grown up just a little bit in ten years,” Shell laughed. But she was thinking about what Margie had said. She still had all the same fears she used to have, but she did feel more solid. “Maybe it comes from surviving a bad relationship and the loss of my parents.”
“Loss changes you,” Margie agreed. “I was thinking how you and Dean and I are all orphans. Isn’t that weird? I mean, we’re pretty young to have no parents.”
“I’ve thought of it too, but you know,” said Shell, “we’re lucky we didn’t lose our parents earlier. It happens to children, Margie.”
“I know, but I still pity myself sometimes,” she said.
“We all do, I guess,” and she gave her friend a smile. “We’ve got each other. That’s lucky.”
The timer on the oven went off and Margie put on oven mitts to take out the enchiladas. “You’re looking awfully pretty tonight,” she said, giving Shell an appraising look for a moment.
“I am? Thanks!” She was wearing her favorite shirt and a pair of jeans, and she had taken a little extra time with her hair and makeup. “I’m getting older. Time to pay a little more attention, I guess.”
“You’re not looking older, and you’ve always been gorgeous,” said Margie, always full of compliments for her best friend. “But you look especially good in that blue.”
“I’ve worn it a lot. I think we need to go shopping!”
“That would be fun. I want to try The Domain one of these days.”
Shell was searching for vinegar in the fridge. “So who’s starting the revelations? Should I?” she asked, bringing the subject back to the matter at hand.
“No, Donald is planning to start us off, and then we’ll join in. The thing is, we need Dean’s help. He knows stuff we don’t know, and we might know stuff he doesn’t know. We have to pool our information to solve this mystery.”
The salsa was perfect. Hot, but not so hot your eyes watered. Both Donald and Dean put huge quantities of it on their enchiladas, and the four ate and enjoyed themselves as if a murder charge wasn’t hanging in the air over Dean’s head.
“Is it too early for brownies?” asked Donald as he and Dean carried dishes into the kitchen.
“Shell and I are about to dish up the ice cream now, but you guys need to pour the coffee and take the cups and spoons into the living room,” Margie answered.
“I’ll do it,” said Dean. “I’m the only one here who didn’t contribute to the meal.”
“You brought the Sangria!” said Margie as she lifted the tray of bowls.
“Alcohol gets double points,” added Shell. “Don’t you know that? Besides, you grew the chilies for the salsa!”
“I’ll admit I should get some credit for the chilies,” he said, “but there’s not much alcohol in Sangria.”
“There is the way I guzzle it,” said Donald.
“I’m still bringing the coffee,” said Dean.
In the meantime, Margie had given Donald a look, so he quickly grabbed a handful of spoons and added, “Let me help, too,” but everyone was onto him, and they all laughed.
When they were all in the living room again, Dean said to his sister, “Seriously, Margie, that’s the best food I’ve had since, let’s see, since the last time you had me over to dinner.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, how do you like the brownies?” she asked, clearly fishing for another compliment.
“These are the best brownies I’ve ever had,” he said, smiling as the others laughed. “Actually, these are the best brownies I’ve ever had.” He turned to Donald and added, “My little sister is a damn good chef.”
“And not a bad little dancer,” his brother-in-law said, smiling with pleasure at his wife’s obvious talent.
“Seriously,” Dean said, turning to Shell, “Margie can do great things with chocolate. She has this falling chocolate cake recipe—”
“Stop!” said Shell, laughing. “I can’t be indulging in one amazing chocolate treat while craving another. That’s just wrong.”
About halfway through coffee, Margie became unexpectedly serious and asked, “Did the locks get changed today?”
“Yes, they did, and at both houses,” said Dean, becoming very sober as well.
“Dean,” said Donald, “there’s something we want to talk to you about.”
“What’s this?” asked Dean, suddenly looking worried.
Donald put his coffee cup down and leaned forward a little. “Margie and Shell and I went over to Danny’s Place last night,” he said. “We think Sergeant Gonzalez is, well, we’re worried he’s not up to figuring this case out, and we think we’re going to have to help.”
Dean was silent for a while and stared at Donald. He didn’t look happy. “What did you think you might learn?” he said quietly, almost coldly.
“We didn’t know, Dean,” said Margie. “But I don’t like Danny. There’s something slick about him. I think he might be connected in some way to Amanda’s death.”
There was a long silence while Dean took in the information. He leaned on his elbow and rubbed his forehead for a few seconds. Then he looked up at Donald.
“I can’t believe you allowed this,” he said, accusingly.
“Allowed?” Margie jumped in. “Allowed? There isn’t any allowing or disallowing in this house! I decided I couldn’t sit around waiting for Gonzalez to arrest my brother. And I have a right to go into any bar in town and have a drink if I want to.” She was fuming.
Shell was secretly proud of her friend’s outburst. She wondered if the conflict between brother and sister was about more than the fact that Margie was a woman and Dean was a man. Was it partly that Dean, being the older sibling, felt protective of his little sister? What he might not be able to see was that she was a completely competent adult who had been making her own decisions for a long time.
“But we’ve talked about this before,” Dean answered heatedly. “I don’t want to see you hurt, and there is a very dangerous person involved in this mess. That person killed Amanda, and by the way, she thought it was fine to go out drinking too, and look where it got her!”
“Dean,” said Donald, unfazed by his brother-in-law’s anger. “I was with them the whole time. It wa
s a completely public setting. We ordered some margaritas and a beer and we came home. And we may have gathered some information you need. Like it or not, we’re your family and we want you in our lives.”
There was another long silence. Dean was clearly struggling with himself. Finally, he looked up at Shell. “Do you think this is right?” he asked.
“I do,” she said quietly. Then she added, “Dean, you have to think about it as if the shoe was on the other foot. If Margie had a murder charge hanging over her head, would you try to help her?”
He was silent and just stared at her for a minute. Then she amended her question slightly. “Would you put yourself in danger to help her?”
“I would, but that’s different.”
“There is no difference.”
“I think it’s different.”
“Because you’re a man and she’s a woman,” Shell said flatly, changing her mind about the older sibling thing.
He waited, looking from Shell to Margie and back to Shell again. Then he slowly sank back against the couch cushions and sighed. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just so hard to think people I care for could be hurt on my account.” He was looking directly at Shell when he said it, but he turned after a moment and looked at his sister. “Don’t you see what I mean?”
“It would be hard for anyone,” said Donald. “You’re in a tough position, but it’s probably better to have people who care about you than to be alone.”
Shell got up and started gathering up the bowls. Donald stood up also and refilled the coffee cups while Margie moved from her chair and sat down on the couch by her brother. “Don’t you think we better put our heads together and see what we can figure out?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I guess so,” he said as the others sat down again.
“We need to make lists of everyone who had any connection to Amanda, and we need to find out everything we can about them,” she said.
“What did you think you learned at the bar?” he asked.
Shell answered, “I asked the bartender, a guy named Frank, if I could say hi to Danny and he said he was out of town. Then I went back to our table, but Donald and Margie saw Frank go into the back and come back with your intruder, Kojak. He looked us over I guess, and we decided to go shortly after. Before we left, Margie and I went into the restroom, and on the way we saw a guy Margie recognized as someone who came to your wedding. He was the only person there who wasn’t with anyone, and he seemed to be there just to watch the crowd.”
“So our intruder is working in Danny’s bar. And someone who came to my wedding—not Danny—was there, too.”
“That’s right,” said Shell.
“Margie, could I use your laptop for a minute?” he asked.
Margie got up without a word and retrieved the MacBook from her bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked as she handed it to him.
“I’m accessing my wedding pictures from iCloud.”
It only took a minute. Shell got up and stood beside Donald behind the couch, and the two looked over the shoulders of Dean and Margie at the screen. It soon filled with multiple shots of the wedding day. Dean set it on a slow slideshow and turned off the sound.
One by one Shell watched Dean’s wedding pictures go by. They were mostly pictures of Amanda in her white, off-the-shoulder gown. In this one she was smiling directly at the camera. Her black hair was gathered at the back of her head, and her veil was attached with a diamond tiara. She wore diamond earrings and a simple, diamond necklace at her throat. The white perfectly set off her olive complexion. Picture after picture slid across the screen. Amanda smiling, Amanda looking up, Amanda looking down.
Shell was glad she couldn’t see Dean’s face. He must be suffering. There were at least a hundred shots of her. Then, finally, pictures with Dean in them. Dean standing beside Amanda looking happy. Dean kissing her cheek. A picture with the couple and Lana Maxwell and a young man.
So this was Danny. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Dean. She would guess he was just under medium height. He had plenty of hair, and he was a bit thin. He was smiling at the camera as if he thought it was all about him. Though nothing like as good-looking as his sister, Shell would think he passed for an attractive man. And Donald had said he was a flirt and a flatterer. Shell could see it written all over his face.
The pictures continued to move across the screen. Then Margie said, “Wait! Back up!”
Dean stopped the slideshow and moved backwards a few frames. “There!” said Margie. “That’s the guy from Danny’s Place.”
Shell could see it was him. He was standing next to Dean in a black tux looking every bit as tall as the groom. His hair was a little longer than Dean’s, medium brown, and he looked to be about the same age. He wore an odd little smile that looked a little bit sad to Shell.
“Ray?” asked Dean. “My best man?”
“I knew I recognized him. I only met him once, Dean,” said Margie. “But that’s him.”
“So this probably doesn’t mean anything at all,” said Dean with a tired sound in his voice.
“Why?” asked Donald and Margie at the same time.
“Because Ray is a drinker. He’s been getting worse. My guess is he just happened to be at the bar last night so he could get himself drunk in a public place.”
“You sound disgusted,” said Margie.
“I’ve been a little bit sick of Ray for a while. He’s got a problem, and he’s giving into it, but his being in the bar isn’t significant. At least, I don’t see how it could be. Jason has seen him around at Austin restaurants, too. He’s always three sheets to the wind.”
“Jason?” Shell asked.
Dean pointed out a man in the background of the photo they had been looking at. He was tall, too, with brown hair and eyes.
“He looks so familiar,” said Shell. “Have I seen him around?”
“I don’t know why you would have,” he responded.
“Maybe it’s just that you look like you could be brothers,” she said.
“Yeah. They called us the triplets at Dell,” Dean said with a rueful smile.
“Who?” Shell asked.
“Me, Ray, and Jason,” he replied.
“Hmm,” said Shell, as she looked more closely as the photo.
They were all disappointed. Seeing Ray at the bar had seemed like a break to the others.
“Why was Ray the only person in the place to have a table to himself?” asked Donald.
“He probably got there early and claimed a table. He could be one of Danny’s best customers.”
“It looked odd,” said Margie. “Didn’t it look odd, Shell?” she asked, turning to her friend.
“He was certainly the only lone person in the room,” she answered. “But Dean may be right. It’s a bar. So maybe he just happens to be a regular at Danny’s bar. Or he could have just been there the one time. Either way, there’s no crime in that. On the other hand, it could mean he has a connection to Danny that we don’t know about.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dean.
“Maybe he knows where Danny is. Maybe they’ve become friends. Maybe, if he’s a regular, he knows the people who work in the bar like your Kojak.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” said Dean. “I could just ask him, I guess.”
“You should,” said Margie, “but don’t let on we’ve seen him at the bar. We don’t need anybody knowing we’re snooping.”
“Don’t worry,” said Dean.
“And Dean,” asked Donald, “could you download those pics onto Margie’s laptop? Maybe there are other people in those photos that Amanda was spending time with. Someone has to know something.”
Chapter 22
Shell was relieved. Just letting Dean know that they had been to the bar made her feel better. And he actually seemed to be getting used to the idea that they were set on working on figuring out what had happened to Amanda.
She pulled out of Margie’s driveway without speaking and realized s
he felt an unaccustomed—what was it?—something like happiness, with Dean in the car. And there was something else. Excitement. She wondered if he was feeling it too. It seemed there was electricity in the air when they were this close to each other. She could feel his every move in the ether. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, she thought. She shivered a little at the idea and shook it off.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Maybe. It’s getting cooler, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it may be hot again tomorrow.”
“That’s Austin, isn’t it?”
They were making small talk about the weather. That was good. They should be able to talk about something other than life’s troubles and Amanda’s murder. Dean should be allowed a break. He should be allowed to get away.
“You know what I’d like?” Shell asked.
“What?”
“To get out of Austin for a day. I need to go to New Braunfels to look at some little tables I found on Craigslist. You wanna come?”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Will you let me drive?”
“You don’t like my driving?” she asked, laughing a little.
“If you buy something,” he said persuasively, “it’s more likely it’ll fit in my car.”
“You make a good argument!” she said, smiling.
“I need to go by the station and talk to Gonzalez first. We could go by there and then go on, maybe.”
“Let’s do,” she said as she stopped at a red light and took a glance at the rearview mirror. There was a big car—probably a large pickup or an SUV—behind her, and its headlights were right in her eyes.
“I don’t want to upset you,” said Dean, “but I think someone is following us.”
“What do you mean?” asked Shell.
“I thought it was my imagination when we drove over to Margie’s, but I’m noticing the same car again.”
