The Point of Death: An Austin, Texas Art Mystery (the Michelle Hodge series Book 1)

by Roslyn Woods

  “Because she was so charismatic?”

  “Exactly, and let’s be honest, she was quite beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Shell agreed.

  “So, Michelle,” Dr. Moreno said, leaning forward and frowning, “I know she liked you and you were her advisee. You may have had a better view of what Doris Leone was going through than any other student. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Shell said, shaking her head. “She didn’t confide in me, Dr. Moreno. I know nothing of her private life that she didn’t tell everyone in her classes.”

  “But you must be trying to figure the murder out. It must be haunting you.”

  “Yes,” Shell answered. “I have to admit, it is.”

  “Have you come up with anything? Anything at all?”

  “One of the students suggested that maybe she was being blackmailed.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. So maybe she decided to quit paying her blackmailer.”

  “And they killed her?” the teacher asked.

  “It’s just a guess. My question is, why in the world would someone blackmail her?”

  Dr. Moreno stood up again and paced nervously in the small area that was a full professor’s office space at UT. Shell watched her, well aware that wheels were turning in the woman’s mind.

  “Did this person—the one who told you about the blackmail—seem credible?”

  “Yes, sure, but there was some interpretation of events that led him to the blackmail conclusion. I don’t know that that’s what it actually was.”

  “And yet, it seems possible when I remember a few things.”

  “Because?”

  “Because she and her husband weren’t happy.”

  “So?”

  “So maybe she tried to find some happiness elsewhere.”

  “And for that she was being blackmailed?” Shell asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “But, Dr. Moreno, do you have any reason to think there really was something going on? Did she confide in you that she was having an affair?”

  Shell didn’t really want to hear the answer that she knew was coming. She wanted the older lady to say that even if her marriage was suffering, Doris Leone remained faithful to trying to make it work.

  “Let’s just say,” Dr. Moreno answered, “I saw something that makes me think she was.”

  “I’d like to know. I’m trying to make sense of things.”

  “Okay,” said the teacher, pausing and taking a breath. “I saw her one night at the airport. I had just returned from seeing my sister in California, and after I disembarked, I went into the terminal. She was in there at the gate where luggage is checked, and her arms were around a very handsome man, her own age by my guess.”

  “Oh.”

  “One of the things she had suggested to me a few months earlier was that she’d made a mistake in marrying an older man.”

  “Did she know you saw her?”

  “No. The man did, I think, but he didn’t know me from Adam, and Doris had her back to me.”

  “You’re sure it was her?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Did you ever ask her about it?”

  “How could I? It would have seemed as if I was judging her, expecting her to justify her actions. It was really none of my business, and honestly, I didn’t care except that I wanted her to be happy, and I didn’t want her to have issues at UT. It’s a surprisingly old-fashioned place when it comes to fidelity.”

  For some reason, Shell suddenly felt drained. It was exhausting thinking about it, and it was strangely disappointing. She hadn’t realized how she had been idolizing Dr. Leone. She hadn’t realized that something had yet to die: Her respect. Grow up, Shell. People are complicated.

  “Will you be coming to the memorial service this Saturday?” asked the teacher.

  “I hadn’t heard about it yet,” Shell answered.

  “I heard about it on the radio this morning. You should be getting an email. Mine was here when I came in this morning.”

  “Of course, I’ll make sure to be there,” said Shell, standing up as the meeting appeared to be ending. “Dr. Moreno? Can I ask you another question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Was Dr. Leone wealthy?”

  “Yes, quite wealthy, I’d say. Her father is a real estate developer in San Diego County, and I believe he inherited from Doris’s grandmother.”

  “So, is Irving Jansen wealthy, too?”

  “Oh heavens, no! He’s written two novels, and neither of them has been successful. Honestly, I don’t know why the publisher went ahead with the second one.”

  “And he didn’t come into the marriage with money?”

  “I don’t think so. Whatever he had he supposedly lost in his second divorce. Doris was his third wife.”

  “Why did she marry him?”

  “Love, I think,” she answered, shaking her head. “Will you let me know if you learn anything?”

  “If I learn anything conclusive, yes.”

  When her meeting was over, Shell plodded toward the student union, her mind working so hard she hardly knew where she was. After a few minutes of walking, she suddenly realized she was standing in front of the Union Building. What was Gina so upset about? She wondered if it had anything to do with the murder or if something else was wrong.

  The chestnut-haired girl was waiting outside the Starbucks.“Let’s go into Cactus,” she suggested. “It’ll be quiet in there.”

  “Sure, but is it open?”

  “No, but my friend Rena works here. She’s already unlocked for us. She’ll be working in the back, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  “Okay.” Shell was wondering what revelation might be coming. Why did Gina need such a private setting to talk?

  Shell followed her through the hallway in front of the cafe, passing one poster after another of the great musicians who had performed here. Townes Van Zandt, Lyle Lovett, Nancy Griffith. There were a lot of posters. In a moment they eased through the door.

  “I’m supposed to lock it once we’re in here,” Gina said, turning the deadbolt on the door while Shell waited for her eyes to adjust to the low light. “Rena said she’d leave a lamp on at one of the tables.”

  Shell had only been here for music events, and the place had always seemed small, seating only a few people, but it seemed bigger today with no people inside. They sat at a table near the stage—the only one with a small lamp on—before Gina started talking.

  “The detectives called me again.”

  “Really? They haven’t called me!”

  “Someone told them about me and Micky. I knew that was going to happen. The older cop—”

  “Sergeant Moore?”

  “Yeah, him. He said that Micky had been seen coming in late to class with Dr. Leone and that they knew I used to date him. He wanted to know if Dr. Leone and I had been at odds—if I was jealous of her!”

  “Oh, no, Gina! I really never thought they’d come up with this!”

  “And I’m pretty sure they’re interrogating Micky about now.”

  “When did they call you?”

  “This morning. Early. Told me I needed to get down to the station immediately. I was like, ‘I have class!’ and they were like, ‘We don’t care.’ Anyway, I was just going in to speak to them when I called you.”

  “So what did you tell them?”

  “I told them we dated and we broke up. I mean, what else am I supposed to say? I told them I wasn’t upset about the breakup—even though I was—and people breakup all the time, you know, blah, blah, blah, and they were like, ‘We don’t believe you.’ It was horrible. I’m so embarrassed, Shell. They made me cry!”

  “Well, I probably would have cried too,” Shell said, reaching across the small table to squeeze Gina’s arm. “Did they say who had told them about you and Micky?”

  “No, but I bet it was Miss-Aloof-Brigitte-Gersten!”

  “Well, whoever it was, you
haven’t done anything wrong. They don’t have any evidence against you because none exists!”

  “I have keys to the building. Now they’ve identified a motive—”

  “No. It won’t go any further. Especially if they question Micky.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because Micky has some stuff to tell them about Jeremy Bird. Once they’ve heard that, they’re going to start looking into the weird stuff he was doing. Micky thinks Jeremy might have been blackmailing Dr. Leone.”

  “What? Why? What could she have done?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s possible something else was going on, but from what he told me, it really did look like blackmail.”

  Shell related everything she had learned about Jeremy the previous day, including what he had done to Margie’s car and house the night before. She also told Gina what Micky and James Beringer had told her about what had happened two days earlier when she had found Dr. Leone’s body.

  “What I want to know,” Shell said, finally, “is what you told Lacy Michaels the other day. And how did Brigitte know I’d found Dr. Leone?”

  “I told Lacy you’d found Dr. Leone’s body, that’s true. But I have no idea if or how Brigitte already knew, unless she’s psychic.”

  “Do you think something might have been going on between Brigitte and Jeremy Bird? Remember I saw that Dr. Leone’s calendar said ‘JB at eleven’? Is it possible she knew what he’d done, and she was crying because she’s involved with him?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was messing around with Lacy.”

  “This is so confusing!”

  “And I’m so upset, Shell! I can’t bear to be alone in my apartment. I want to go home to my parents, but the police told me I have to stay in Austin!”

  “You better come and sleep on the couch at my place. Margie’s already staying with me in the guest room. It’ll be like a slumber party.”

  “Do you mind?” Gina asked drying her eyes on a tissue she had pulled from her backpack.

  “No, I don’t mind at all. Maybe having so much company will convince Patrick to stay away!” she added with a laugh.

  Chapter 14

  They were waiting inside the courtroom for Margie’s time in front of the bench, but the judge hadn’t yet appeared, and people were speaking in low voices around the room. Donald had already asked Margie to go over what she was going to say before they had arrived.

  “That sounds just right,” he said when she had finished. “It helps to know what you’re going to say in advance. I’ve heard people say they get a bit tongue-tied standing alone in front of a justice.”

  “You mean you’re not going to stand with me?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t think so. I’m willing, but I don’t think the judge will need extra testimony this time. If you have to come again for a permanent order, then yes, you’ll need me to corroborate your story about the parking lot.”

  “But I thought that was why you were coming with me today—”

  “I thought so, too, and maybe the judge will ask me a question, but I don’t think so. I went home and looked this stuff up on the computer last night. The judge is likely to grant a temporary order based on your testimony alone. He’ll also have the police report from last night.”

  “So why did you come?”

  “You’re my new friend. I had today off. I gave you a ride.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Okay,” she said, not wanting to push the matter further.

  “Did you have trouble getting off work?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Pete wasn’t very happy,” Margie answered, “but what could he do? I just told him I had an emergency, and I told him I needed the whole day. I figured later I’d have to get my car and my dog, too, so I’d probably need the whole day. Anyway, I didn’t tell him why. I didn’t want to tell him my troubles with my ex. It sounds so sleazy.”

  “I imagine he knows you well enough to figure you’re not the problem.”

  “I let the idiot into my life, so I guess I’m part of the problem.”

  “I don’t like hearing you blame yourself for the bad things someone else did,” he said quietly.

  “Is that something you tell your patients?”

  “Clients.”

  “Is that something you tell your clients?” she repeated.

  “If I think they’re doing that. But often they talk and figure out the answers for themselves while they’re talking.”

  “A lot of ‘active listening,’ then?”

  “Yes. And some Cognitive Psychology. Whatever works.”

  “I like the idea that we’re friends, Donald Carter, but I don’t want to be a charity case for you. If I want you to psychologize me, I’ll make an appointment.”

  Donald smiled briefly. “You’re the first person I’ve met in Austin—other than Dr. Sorenson—with a sincere interest in poetry. I want to be friends. That’s all.”

  “Okay,” she said. “And yes, I do blame myself. I was reckless. There were tells. I should have thought twice about things about him that I considered to be shallow.”

  “You don’t think everyone has some shallow qualities?”

  “I do, but—”

  “But you were attracted to him.”

  “I was attracted to the fact that he was so into me. That’s not the same as me being into him.”

  “It must happen a lot.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “How’s your dog doing?” he asked, completely ignoring her question.

  Margie paused before she decided to answer him. “I called about her just before we left the apartment. She had a good night and will be ready for pick-up at five.”

  “Timing seems to be working out.”

  “Yes. I’ll have to run by my place and get her food and bed before I take her back to Shell’s.”

  “I better go with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Better be safe than sorry. Did you call about your car?”

  “Yes. It’ll be ready at four. I’ll go pick up Tabitha after I get the car. There’s no need for you—”

  “We’ve got the whole day, then.”

  “You don’t have to wait around till I can get my car. I can manage just fine—”

  “But maybe we could have lunch or something?”

  “Donald Carter, are you asking me out to lunch?”

  “I guess so. I’m going to be hungry by the time we get out of here.”

  “But you’re not making a pass.”

  “You know I’m not. We’ve made the same decision about relationships. I like eating when I’m hungry.”

  “Okay. I like eating.”

  The judge did grant the temporary restraining order. The court was to notify Jeremy Bird by phone first. Then an effort was to be made to locate him and serve the order in person.

  Margie felt a measure of relief. The sun was shining. Donald was driving her to Manuel’s, a Mexican restaurant near the Arboretum in North Austin. Margie liked the place, and she was happy that her friend was helping her to take care of things. That was all.

  “So,” Donald began just after they were seated at an outside table that looked across a patio with a longish pool of recirculating water, “what was it you said about your friend Shell last night? Something about how she was out solving a mystery with her boyfriend?”

  “Well, it’s another long story,” Margie answered, leaning forward and speaking softly. “I’ll tell you about it if you’re really interested, but it’s a little bit scary, and more than a little bit macabre.”

  Just then a server approached. He was about medium height with black hair and looked to be around Margie’s age. He handed Margie and Donald menus while announcing that he would be their server during lunch. Then he asked Margie what she’d like to drink.

  “Iced tea,” she answered. “Unsweet.”

  “Make that two of those,” said Donald. The
server nodded slightly, flashed a bright smile at Margie, and turned to go.

  “I bet you get really good service in restaurants,” Donald observed.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, clearly thinking better of what he had been about to say.

  Margie had an unaccustomed moment of fearing she was blushing. Had he been about to compliment her looks? No. He had made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in her.

  “Anyway, you said the story about your friend’s sleuthing was kind of scary. I’m intrigued.”

  “Well,” Margie began looking around the patio and lowering her voice, “I suppose you heard about the murder of Doris Leone, the art teacher from UT?”

  Donald sat up straighter when he heard the question and said, “Who hasn’t? It’s all over the news.”

  “Well,” she said quietly, “Shell found her body.”

  Donald leaned forward, frowning. “What?”

  “She had an appointment with her at the art co-op, and when she got there the place was unlocked, but it was dark inside. Dr. Leone’s car was outside, but no one else’s was. Shell didn’t think anything of it because she was supposed to meet her early. Only when she went in—”

  “This is just terrible.”

  “Yes, it’s been horrible for Shell. She acts like she’s fine, but she’s having a really hard time with it. And, like I said, it’s a little bit scary.”

  “It’s a lot scary,” he corrected. “I assume she called the police.”

  “Of course,” she answered, “but since then she’s been trying to figure out who killed her teacher. There are some weird things she’s trying to put together.”

  “Like what weird things?”

  “Like, she took flowers over to Dr. Leone’s husband at his home yesterday morning. Dr. Leone was her advisor, plus Shell was taking two of her classes, and she was part of the co-op that Dr. Leone was directing. Anyway, she felt like she should express her sympathy, and she felt awful about finding the body. Anyway, Irving Jansen made her feel sort of like he was interested in her. Sexually. It’s not like Shell to exaggerate, and it’s not at all like her to think someone is coming on to her, but she thought he was, and—needless to say—she was repulsed. I mean, it was only about twenty-four hours after—”