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

by Roslyn Woods

  “Oh, I don’t remember. Some places around town.”

  “Recently?”

  “No, no, not recently. It must have been months ago.”

  “You ever go to the bar?”

  “No, why would I go over there?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought you might go to some of the places down on Sixth Street.” So he was lying. Dean tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. “How’s it going up at Dell?” he asked, suppressing his own anger.

  “Uh, well I don’t know really. I quit on them. I’m going on my own, doing a little freelance stuff.”

  “Oh really? What exactly?”

  “I’m getting into systems security. I’m not really up and running yet, but I’m getting there.”

  Sure you are, thought Dean. “That’s always an interesting field to be in. I’ve thought of it myself.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of money in it,” said Ray, pausing, “Hey listen, I’ve got another call. Can I call you back?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was just checking to see if you’d seen Danny.”

  “Okay man, well, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and Dean sat shaking his head. Margie was right.

  So why is he lying? He’s hanging out at Danny’s bar and lying about it. Maybe Danny’s Place did have something to do with Amanda’s murder. Shell had drawn Kojak out of the back room with her questions. He and Ray were both at Danny’s Place. What did it mean?

  He imagined Shell, dressed up to go out, asking the bartender questions about Danny. That was foolhardy. She could have been hurt.

  Shell. She’s mad at me. Maybe he ought to be mad at her too, but he was over the anger he felt last night. It wasn’t her fault if Mr. Money had shown up and told her he loved her. Of course he loved her. Of course he wanted to marry her. But why would she even think of a guy who had cheated on her? Why had she softened toward him if she wasn’t considering his offer?

  He got up and rummaged through the closet in his office. He gathered what he would need into a cardboard box, put his cell in his pocket, and grabbed his keys.

  “C’mon Sadie! We’re going next door.”

  They went in through the back. Sadie ran around the house for a minute checking each room. Then she went into Shell’s bedroom and settled on the area rug by the bed. She whined a little and looked up at him.

  “Yeah, I know you like her,” Dean said. “She’s sweeter to you than she is to me.” If they hadn’t argued last night, they would be on their way to New Braunfels about now. He would be helping her with her furniture, maybe taking her to Huisache, a nice little restaurant with a great fireplace. They would be talking, drinking wine, and he would be having a wonderful day.

  He reflected that being in Shell’s bedroom was probably not the best place to get her out of his mind. But what was that guy looking for? He checked the closet and got a familiar whiff of her fragrance. Something vaguely floral blended with vanilla. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful. No attic access here. No hidden cupboards.

  He tried the guestroom. Boxes were stacked against the east wall facing the queen-sized bed. He lifted the lids on a few. Books. She had quite a few books. Here was Edith Wharton and Jane Austen. Henry James, Charlotte Bronte, Thomas Hardy. Here was a box full of art books. Sargent, Pisarro, The California Impressionists. He checked the closet. Just a few coats and some empty pieces of luggage. That delicious fragrance. Otherwise, nothing.

  The front bedroom, he could see, was being used as an art room. There was a paint-spattered table pushed against the east wall under the window, and jars full of paintbrushes and palette knives were placed there along with cans of turpentine and linseed oil. Her easel was set up so that light from the north window would hit it. She had placed a canvas there, and the outline of Austin’s skyline was roughed in over a cerulean-blue background. Canvases in various stages of completion were leaned up against the walls. There were a few boards with taped and stretched watercolor paper.

  Dean bent down on one knee and pulled the boards and canvases apart, examining each one. Landscapes, florals, an amazing portrait of Margie. They were all painted in the Impressionist style, and they were good. Really good, he thought. It didn’t surprise him that Shell was talented, just that her paintings made him feel emotional. He had seen her painting of Margie’s childhood home and liked it. But these had probably been done more recently, and they were better. They were actually much better. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had known Shell for a very long time.

  This is a great way to get her out of my head, he thought.

  He checked the closet and found more paintings. He looked up. There it was. The attic access. He would have to come back with a ladder and check it out. For now, he would set up surveillance. He placed cameras on the front and back porches. He added a couple to the art room because of the attic access. He couldn’t bring himself to put cameras anywhere else. She might not like even this much, but it would make her safer. Now he would have to see if she might consider coming home. Unless she’s already decided to go back to Mr. Money.

  He went out to the shed and got his ladder. Sadie went along, trying to help, barking and wagging her tail. It was a six-foot ladder, but the ceiling in the closet was low, probably only eight feet. He set it up and climbed, pushing the wooden rectangle up, and taking the flashlight from his pocket. There were a few boxes and an old trunk. There was a little chair of his from childhood. His mother had kept it. He hadn’t seen it in years.

  Someday, she had said, this will belong to my grandchild. He felt a sudden rush of emotion at the memory.

  He climbed on in and walked around, making sure to stay on the joists while considering the possibility of having a floor put in someday. The trunk held some letters and photographs, probably his grandmother’s. He didn’t have time to go through it now, but he was glad to know where it was. The boxes held a set of his grandmother’s china and some fine crystal glasses, all carefully wrapped in newspaper.

  Whatever he’s looking for isn’t in the attic, he thought. So it had to be somewhere else, or maybe he had already found it.

  Chapter 27

  The report came on Wednesday the 23rd of October, and Gonzalez was irritated that it was so late. Ballistics showed the bullet was .25 caliber. Amanda Maxwell had been shot in the heart and died almost immediately. The time of death was between nine a.m. and noon. The toxicology report showed early signs of alcoholism. There was no sign of any struggle, no bruising, no abrasions.

  He thought about the caliber for a while. Men didn’t usually carry twenty-fives, and he wondered if Amanda Maxwell had been shot with her own gun. It wasn’t completely farfetched that she might be carrying since she lived alone.

  He and Wilson had planned to see Gabe Castillo and Becky Lester today. Only a few minutes ago Becky had called and said it was a bad day for her and could they come by tomorrow. It was annoying. Didn’t people realize this was a murder investigation? Gonzalez decided that if there was time, they would stop in at the bar on 6th Street to see if anyone had anything to say about Danny Lopez. So far they had given him nothing.

  “Did you find the registration on that license plate?”

  “Not yet.”

  Gonzalez swore under his breath. He would have to do it himself when they got in tomorrow.

  They had planned their trip for late afternoon so the interviews could happen after work and off campus for the two Dell employees. It was almost four when they headed north to Jollyville. Both interviewees lived there. It seemed to be a favorite place for Dell workers to live.

  Gabe Castillo’s house was on Springwood Drive just west of 183. The neighborhood was peppered with oak trees and was rampant with expansive lawns. Castillo was expecting them and gestured for them to come in. Gonzalez looked around the room and guessed the place had cost around six or seven hundred thousand. He wondered for a moment why he hadn’t gone into computers himself.

&
nbsp; Castillo had the two sit down on his leather couch. He was tallish, probably six feet, and even though his dark hair was thinning, he had the look of a person with confidence. Gonzalez decided that having money could probably do that for a man.

  “Thank you for seeing us. We just have a few questions about Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell,” said Gonzalez.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you mind if we record our interview?”

  “No. It’s fine.”

  “How long did you know Amanda Maxwell?”

  “Four years. I started working at Dell four years ago.”

  “And what do you do for Dell?”

  “I’m called a product introduction engineer.”

  “And did this job cause you to be in contact with Amanda Maxwell?”

  “When she was there she was Amanda Lopez. Yes, some. I mostly saw her away from work.”

  “Did you date Miss Lopez?”

  “No, but we went out with people from work together.”

  “Can you give me some names?”

  “Linda Morrison, Becky Lester, Ray Hoffman, Jason Novak a time or two, Amanda, me. The group varied, but we were the regulars.”

  “So Novak wasn’t a regular?”

  “No. Just a couple of times in my memory.”

  “Why not more?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Amanda didn’t keep inviting him? I don’t really have any idea.”

  “Any tension there?”

  “Where?”

  “Between Jason and Amanda.”

  “Why would there be tension?”

  “Hadn’t they been a couple?” Gonzalez asked.

  “Hell, I don’t even know. It would have had to have been before my time.”

  “Okay. So these gatherings started four years ago?”

  “For me they did. Pretty close to when I started working there.”

  “Where did the group go with Miss Lopez?”

  “Several places. Mostly we’d meet to eat and have a few beers.”

  “Okay. Can you name some of the places?”

  “Sure. We’d meet downtown mostly. Ginger Man, Elephant Bar, Roaring Fork.”

  “And did you meet Miss Lopez’s brother?”

  “Yes. Danny.”

  “Did you go to his place?”

  “The bar? Yes, but that was later. I’d say about two years ago we started going down there.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about Miss Lopez’s relationship with her brother?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did you know Dean Maxwell?”

  “Yes, I met him at Dell when he started.”

  “Would you say he became a personal friend of yours?”

  “Yes. We’ve gotten together to watch games, have a beer, that kind of thing.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about his personal life?”

  “Hell, no. Do you talk about your personal life to the guys at work?”

  “No, I don’t. And did he go out with your group of friends?”

  “No.”

  “Why was that?”

  “The girls arranged everything. I don’t think he was invited.”

  “Even after he and Amanda Lopez started dating?”

  “Especially then.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Because Amanda and Ray had been together, I guess.”

  “And Ray was still a part of the group that met?”

  “Pretty much. He stopped for a while and started back up.”

  “But they weren’t together after she started dating Maxwell?”

  “I don’t think so. It started up again later.”

  “And did Maxwell know about this?”

  “I don’t have any way of knowing. I know Ray didn’t want him to know.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you kidding? Dean wouldn’t have liked it.”

  “Do you think he might have become violent?”

  “Well, I would have, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m afraid I have to ask the questions.”

  “Whatever. Ray was acting like he was Dean’s friend while he had something going on with his wife. But no, I’ve never seen Dean Maxwell do anything violent.”

  “Have you ever heard him threaten anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Castillo, why didn’t you tell Dean Maxwell that his wife was cheating on him?”

  “I didn’t see that as my business. He could have found out if he really wanted to know.”

  “He must have known she was going out a lot.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Why do you think he put up with it?”

  “What was he supposed to do, tie her up? He was probably fatalistic about it. She was going to do what she was going to do. That didn’t make it right.”

  “And yet you maintained a friendship with Ray Hoffman.”

  “A friendship of sorts. I didn’t have a blowup with him, if that’s what you mean. It didn’t seem like the stuff he was involved in was my business. That doesn’t mean I’ve ever thought of him as a good friend.”

  “Are you still in contact with him?”

  “Yeah. He calls every once in a while. He asks me to have a beer with him now and then. I almost never do. I don’t like the guy much, but I haven’t quit answering his phone calls.”

  It seemed to Gonzalez that everything Linda Morrison had said was being corroborated by Gabe Castillo.

  “Did you ever see or hear about an altercation between Amanda Maxwell and her husband?”

  “No.”

  “How about between Mrs. Maxwell and her brother Danny?”

  “Not really. They always argued some. I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time.”

  “But you do now?”

  “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “How about arguments between Amanda Maxwell and Hoffman?”

  “Well, couples always fight, don’t they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think they had some arguments. Nothing violent.”

  Gonzalez nodded and looked at his notebook. “Is there anything else you think I should know about any of the people I’ve been asking you about?”

  “Just this. I think Amanda did Dean wrong. He’s not a bad guy.”

  The sergeant thanked him, and he and Wilson got up to go. Then Gonzalez turned back. “One more thing. Do you know anything about where we might find Danny Lopez?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him for, I don’t know, probably three weeks.”

  “Where was that?”

  “At the bar on Sixth Street. The whole group was there.”

  “So you, Amanda, Linda, Becky, and Ray?”

  “Yeah. It was the last time all of us went anywhere together.”

  “Did you notice anything different about Danny?”

  “Yeah, he was weird. Something was bothering him. He seemed upset.”

  “You don’t know what it was about?”

  “He kept trying to get Amanda to talk to him privately.”

  “And she didn’t want to?”

  “It’s hard in a group to pull someone aside, and Amanda wasn’t very happy. She kept putting him off.”

  “And you thought it was unusual?”

  “Well, he was always a little bit too interested in his sister for my taste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There was something slimy about him, I guess.”

  “And do you have any idea where Danny could be now?”

  “Sorry. I don’t know anything more about the guy. I always thought he was kind of a jerk.”

  Chapter 28

  Her name was Bitsy, and she was a black and white Chihuahua mix with big, sad eyes. When you said her name she would wag her tail and look hopeful for a minute, and Shell found this nearly heartbreaking. The dog didn’t have the fragile look or the yappy manner she had often seen in Chihuahuas with papers, and after those big eyes, this was her best selling point.

  “I think you shoul
d get her,” said Margie. “She’s so cute, someone might get her before we have a chance to come back.”

  “I know, but this little doggie isn’t going to make it any easier for me to live in my house,” said Shell sadly.

  “Why? Because she’s not as big as Dean’s dog? She’ll still alert you if anything’s up, and that’s the main thing. Don’t let this issue with the house keep you from doing what you know in your heart you really want to do.”

  “But Margie, I’m not even in my house. I’m in your house.”

  “Bitsy and Tabitha will be best friends just like us,” she said. “They can use this time to get to know each other.”

  “What if they don’t get along?”

  “They will.”

  But they didn’t. Tabitha ran around Bitsy for a good fifteen minutes barking and growling. Even after she had stopped barking, she settled down in her little bed with her chew toy in her mouth and a nearly continuous growl in her throat.

  They had taken Bitsy by Tabitha’s groomer and veterinarian’s office on the way home. While Bitsy was checked out and given a bath, Shell and Margie had wandered around the pet store picking out odds and ends including a bed, a leash, and a few toys. Shell remembered her plan to enjoy being single. Bitsy would be part of embracing the fact that she was a solitary woman.

  They placed Bitsy’s little bed right next to Tabitha’s by the fireplace. She dutifully climbed in and curled up while she listened to Tabitha’s complaints. After a while the growling subsided and Margie and Shell decided to make dinner.

  “How about pasta and meatballs?” asked Margie.

  “It actually sounds wonderful. I’m pretty hungry,” said Shell. She had barely eaten the lunch they’d had earlier. “I’ll make the salad and dressing. How about I fix us some garlic bread?”

  “Comfort food!” Margie exclaimed, and they both laughed.

  “Margie, thank you for today,” said Shell. “I was feeling pretty low, and you lifted me out of it. Even if I have to find a different house, I’m going to be fine.”

  “Of course you are! But I really want you to live in Lana’s house. It’s your style, and my brother needs family near him.”

  “Uh, I’m not exactly his family.”

  “Of course you’re his family! We’re all we’ve got, and we’re going to stick together even if we don’t know how to be good to each other all the time.”