The Girl With the Dragonfly Tattoo: An Austin, Texas Art Mystery (The Michelle Hodge Series Book 4)

by Roslyn Woods

  Then, while rolling the empty suitcases into the large closet in her bedroom, she heard the phone ringing again.

  Please give me some space, she thought as she returned to the kitchen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello.”

  It wasn’t Rand Miller this time. The voice was a woman’s. Tavy felt a strange apprehension before the woman continued.

  “My name is Michelle Hodge, and I’m trying to reach the daughter of Edwin Bishop.”

  “Oh?” Tavy asked, taken aback.

  “Have I called the right number?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I am the daughter of Edwin Bishop.”

  “I’m very sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I have something for you. Something your father left with me. Is there any way I can come and see you? Or perhaps we could meet somewhere?”

  Tavy was a little rattled by the unexpected call. How had this woman found her? She leaned against the cold granite of the counter as she realized she would have to give in to all the strangeness, all this overload.

  “I only just arrived in Austin. I don’t know the town at all, and I’m afraid I’ll just get lost if I try to meet you,” she answered, not sure what to make of this caller.

  “I could come to you,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind? This evening? Or tomorrow?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Not tonight. I’ve just flown in from Portland, and I’m very tired.”

  “Oh, yes, I see. Well, at your convenience, then. Could I give you my number? Or could you perhaps give me an address?”

  “Yes. Let me find a pencil,” Tavy answered, opening a drawer near the phone and miraculously finding a yellow notepad and pencil inside. She took down the name and number of the woman. “I’ll call you tomorrow, perhaps,” she said, not wanting to commit herself to seeing anyone. “May I ask what your connection is to my father?”

  “I’m one of the owners of the Westside Gallery. Your father and my partners and I were planning to have a show for him.”

  “Oh!” said Tavy. This really was surprising. A show? Maybe she should talk to this woman. “Well, yes, of course I need to see you, then. Could you come by in the morning?”

  “Yes, I could,” said Michelle Hodge. “What time would work best for you?”

  “About ten? Does that sound okay?” Tavy asked.

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “All right. It’s twenty-one, twenty-one Oaktree Hill,” Tavy said. “I think my father’s lawyer said it’s the Zilker neighborhood, if that helps.”

  “Yes, I know roughly where you are, then. I’ll plug the address into my GPS.”

  “I’ll see you at ten, then.”

  “Yes. Ten o’clock.”

  Chapter 13

  Friday, August 7, 6:45 a.m.—Tavy

  Tavy took a walk early the next morning. It wasn’t exactly hot yet, just muggy, and no one was up but a few joggers. She made a special effort to pay attention to her path, since she knew it would be easy to lose her way in the maze of streets that was this neighborhood.

  On either side of her own bungalow, she saw homes of different eras. Standing across the street and looking at the front of the house, was a California ranch to its right and some sort of modern creation to its left.

  The neighborhood had many front gardens, mostly including flowers and grass, but often xeriscaped. Occasionally she passed a front vegetable garden. In general, the yards were clean and well-kept and made her think of Tio. He had loved gardening so much, and he had instilled the love in her as well.

  She turned a corner, trying to find the house of Angus and Madison. She was on Birdsong Lane, and she had kept a count of the homes on each side of the street, pretty sure she had found the house that must be theirs. It was modern, somewhat larger than her father’s, and painted almond with natural wood elements. The front garden was purely flowers, fruit trees, and vegetables. There was a fence with a gate, about waist high, that appeared to have been made by a master craftsman. Its pine boards were turned horizontally and put together in six foot sections. The whole thing was stained and lacquered against the weather. In front of the fence were five wooden crates containing vegetables—tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, corn, and okra.

  Tavy stared at the crates. On each one, the words Food is Free were boldly written in black paint. These were like the crates she had seen in her father’s garage. She became aware of a whining sound just as a dog appeared at her side, an Australian Shepherd, wagging its hind end happily in greeting.

  Having raised a couple of dogs with Mia and Tio, Tavy was familiar with their behavior. She bent down and offered her hand to be sniffed, which it was.

  “Hello there, pretty girl,” she said. “Are you out by yourself this morning?”

  “Good morning,” said a voice behind her.

  She turned her head and saw Angus Kerr approaching. “Hello,” she said, slightly startled at his sudden appearance. “You’re a runner,” she said, feeling a little foolish as she took in the sight of him in his t-shirt and running shorts. Even at this hour, a run could cause someone to work up a sweat, and he had.

  “Yeah, not as much as I should be,” he said, patting his flat belly and implying that he wasn’t as lean as he actually was.

  “Is this your dog?” she asked, petting the friendly creature’s head.

  “Yeah, that’s Blue. She got ahead of me today. Even with her coat she takes the heat better than I do.”

  “She’s a beauty,” Tavy answered, standing up. “I was just taking a walk and thought this must be your place.”

  “You found it. I was planning to call you today, Tavy.”

  It was strange hearing him say her name so naturally, as if they were old friends. “You were?”

  “I’d have called last night, but I told Maddie about your father, and well, she didn’t take it so well. I felt like I should just stay with her.”

  “I didn’t expect—” she began.

  “I know, but I need to talk to you about a few things, and—uh—could I come over in a little while?”

  Tavy looked at her watch. It was only seven. “Sure. I’m expecting someone at ten. If you come by soon?”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes if that’s okay.”

  “Yes. Come through the back?”

  “If it’s okay.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Tavy had already started a pot of coffee in her father’s old-fashioned percolator and was walking in the back garden and considering the possibility of drawing a picture of the grape trellis when she heard the gate open. Freshly showered and combed, Gus arrived in a green polo shirt and jeans.

  “We can sit inside or out here,” she suggested, glancing in the direction of a black metal table and chairs outside the sun porch.

  “Here is fine,” he said.

  “Is Madison home?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “Her mom just picked her up. This is normally my week, but she’s off to camp for a few days.”

  “I was sorry to hear she had a hard time dealing with my father’s death.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t want to leave. She’s going to be mourning, and she told me to come get her if there’s a service.”

  “I don’t know what to do about that.”

  “I wish I knew how to help,” he answered.

  “It’s okay.”

  The sound of scratching on the gate made Tavy look up just then.

  “That’s Blue,” Gus said.

  “Can she come join us?”

  “Up to you,” he answered.

  “I like her. Maybe you can invite her into the yard while I go and get the coffee.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. You need cream or sugar?”

  “Just black.”

  Tavy smiled at him and turned toward the stairs, but she caught herself glancing back at his broad shoulders as he headed toward the gate. When she returned with the percolator and two mugs, she found him bending under
a tomato cage pulling weeds with Blue looking on.

  “I was thinking this place looks amazingly well kept up,” she said, placing the coffee and mugs on the table. “Is that your doing?”

  “Only partly. Your dad was part of our project.”

  Blue ambled over to Tavy, wagging her tail, and Tavy bent down on one knee to pet her. “Your project?” she asked, looking back up at Gus.

  “Food is Free,” he answered, standing up and dusting his hands on his jeans. “It’s an organization that started here in Austin. We try to get people to use their yards to produce food instead of, well, useless lawns and privet bushes.”

  “And you give it away?”

  “What we don’t use, yes,” he answered, pulling a chair for Tavy at the wire table. “Why should anyone be hungry when food is so easy to grow?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, the sudden memory of Tio saying something quite similar flashing through her mind, and when she stood up to take the chair, Blue followed her and lay down on the cool patio tiles beside her. “So my dad was a gardener?”

  “Not exactly. He helped some, but mainly he just offered his yard for the good of the project—for the good of the people who benefit from it mostly, I guess. We installed those rain-catchment barrels on the side of your house,” he said, “and some of the people in the project helped me build these beds and get them going. Your dad helped set it all up, too. Everything you see is set up on an automatic drip irrigation system sourced at those rain-catchment tanks. ”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Four years. I realize all that’s over now. I just wanted you to know why it’s like this.”

  Tavy was filling the two coffee mugs as he spoke. Gus had seated himself across from her and was looking directly at her.

  “It doesn’t have to be over just yet,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”

  “Is it possible you might stay?” he asked.

  Tavy considered this. The truth was that, now she was here in her father’s house, the decision she had made when she was back in Portland seemed hasty. She might not be ready to sell the place and head back. She just didn’t know.

  “Everything’s still up in the air. I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything right now.”

  Gus gave her a searching look before he spoke.

  “Okay, well, there’s been harvesting going on all summer, and it should continue well into September.”

  “I’m sure nothing will be determined that quickly.”

  “Well, that’s good, then. I can call you to let you know when the workers will come.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Just a few very nice people who pull weeds and replant and that kind of thing. I help them with their gardens, and they help me with mine. With your dad’s permission, I expanded mine into your dad’s yard.”

  “I see. Well, I don’t know why it wouldn’t be fine for you and your friends to work here. When would it be?”

  “They only come when there’s a big job to do like clearing out the garden to replant for winter or spring. They won’t come till late September.”

  “You’ll be with them, right?”

  “Yes. And if it’s okay, in the meantime, I’ll come over to pick vegetables as they’re ready. Sometimes a garden needs that pretty often. Every couple of days, actually.”

  “Okay. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

  “Yes, and to ask you a question.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “I know you’re going through a bad time right now, losing your dad and all, but he was a good friend of mine. Actually, my best friend, and I want you to know I’m close by if you need anything. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “And has your stepbrother come around at all?”

  Tavy set her mug down on the table and a little coffee splashed over the edge, but she didn’t notice. Blue sat up and whined.

  “Stepbrother?”

  “Your father’s stepson, Vince.”

  She stared for a few moments without speaking.

  “I don’t even know of a stepbrother,” she said, pausing and staring at Angus Kerr before she went on. “I know nothing about my father. He left when I was a two-year-old, and I never heard from him again.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right. I didn’t know him.”

  “But—I didn’t know.”

  “I knew he’d gone to Austin, and my mother was apparently well taken care of and got child support. That’s the only contact I know about, and it seems that was all handled by a lawyer. So don’t worry about how my heart’s broken by my dad’s death. My heart was broken by his leaving me before I was old enough to know what happened. My heart has been broken my whole life about that.”

  Gus stared at her, plainly stunned. She knew it was possible she sounded sharp, and she suddenly realized her troubles had nothing to do with him.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not your fault. It’s just very, very hard to take this place in. To learn he was so much—I don’t know. I don’t understand a lot of things.”

  “I might be able to explain a few things, but I didn’t know about your relationship. I was given to understand that he went to see you in Portland every once in a while.”

  “Nope.”

  There was a silence before Angus Kerr spoke again. “There were trips to Portland,” he said, finally. “Recently, in fact.”

  “Hmm.”

  She knew her bitterness must be evident, but she wasn’t really able to control it right then. Blue inched closer to her feet and whined again, and Gus was frowning, puzzling over something he probably couldn’t fathom—a father who divorced the mother of his child and then had no relationship with her. Not like him. He seemed to have a relationship with his daughter, and even while she acted defiant and unappreciative, he continued to love and worry about her.

  “How did you learn about his death?” she asked abruptly.

  “Florencia—the cleaning lady—came over on Tuesday to let me know. She was pretty broken up.”

  “And how did she learn?”

  “Your dad’s lawyer, Rand Miller, called her. Wanted her to get the house ready for you. She said he didn’t know when, or even if, you would come, but I suppose she did her part.”

  “How did my father even get to the hospital?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know who’s seen the body?”

  “No, but someone had to identify him. Maybe the lawyer, but they usually want next of kin.”

  “I wouldn’t even know him.”

  “Yeah, you would.”

  “What?”

  “You look a lot like him.”

  Tavy felt tears springing into her eyes and a lump rising in her throat. She turned her head as if she was taking a sudden interest in the little green lemons on the tree that was growing against the east fence. “I have to go see him this afternoon,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  “At the morgue?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need company?” he asked quietly.

  She thought for a moment. Gus had known her father. She hadn’t. Maybe he should come. Maybe he needed the closure of seeing him. He wouldn’t see him after the cremation. She knew she didn’t want to face this trip alone, yet she knew she must do it.

  “You want to come?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Okay. I would actually appreciate the company. The lawyer offered, but that didn’t feel right.”

  “I can drive. I know Austin a little better than you do.”

  “All right. We could take my father’s car, I guess.”

  “But maybe not this time.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 14

  Friday, August 7, 9:59 a.m.—Tavy

  Tavy was watching the clock in the living room when she heard the doorbell. Michelle Hodge wasn’t late. She arrived at
exactly 9:59 a.m.

  “Miss Bishop? I’m Michelle. I hope this is still a good time to talk.”

  “Yes, it’s fine. Please come in,” said Tavy, opening the door wide, and allowing her to pass. The young woman wore a lavender blouse with white slacks and sandals, and her blond hair was twisted into a large silver jaw clip at the back of her head.

  “This is a beautiful bungalow,” she said, and Tavy noticed that the blue-green color of her eyes looked almost teal in this room.

  “Thanks,” she answered automatically. “I suppose I should say that my father did it all, or maybe he hired someone to do it.”

  “Yes, well, he was a real artist,” the younger woman answered while her gaze traveled around the room, her eyes pausing every little bit on the various objects around her, “so it would make sense if he did it.”

  “Was he?”

  “A real artist? Well, of course,” she answered without hesitation as she walked toward the fireplace, her eyes appearing to zero in on the painting above the mantel. “But you already know that,” she continued, turning back to look at Tavy again. “This is quite something!” she said with a surprised expression.

  “What?”

  The young woman didn’t answer and seemed to be puzzled for a moment. She swallowed while a few seconds slipped by and finally spoke again. “Everything is lovely,” she said.

  Octavia Bishop didn’t miss the young woman’s change in expression, but she wouldn’t pursue that now. “You should call me Tavy,” she said, extending her hand.