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

by Roslyn Woods

  Along with that, she wondered whether or not the police had come up with anything. She was considering going into the station and asking to speak to Sgt. Moore so she could tell him what her read on things was, but she felt she just didn’t have enough information yet, and she wondered why he would listen to her anyway.

  In the morning, after Margie had gone off to work, Shell and Gina sat drinking coffee.

  “When do you think the police will release the co-op and we can re-open?” Gina asked.

  “I don’t know. Soon, is my guess. I’ll never feel the same about the place, though.”

  “I know,” said Gina.

  “I’ve been wondering, Gina, why do you think Brigitte would get involved with Irving Jansen?”

  “To be honest, I just don’t get it,” she answered. “He’s in his late fifties, and what is she, twenty-three? Plus, Dr. Leone was good to everyone, but she was especially good to Brigitte! I happen to know she got her that job at the co-op, and she was able to get her some credit toward her masters with it. It seems impossible that Brigitte would go around her and have an affair with her husband!”

  “It does seem as if she’d be grateful to her,” said Shell.

  “Yes, it does.”

  There was a silence while they both sipped their coffee and thought about it.

  “I should ask Micky,” said Gina.

  “Ask him what?”

  “If he had any read like that on Brigitte.”

  “Speaking of Micky, how was your drive last night?”

  Gina smiled and looked up from her coffee at Shell. “Great. He wants to start over, try again. He says he’s been missing me this whole time we’ve been apart!”

  “What changed everything?”

  “Last night when we were clearing the dishes, he told me he never understood what had happened between us. I told him I thought he’d broken up with me, and then he repeated what he’d said the other day—that I’d broken up with him—and then he said something about thinking it was a stupid fight anyway and could we talk about it. That’s why we went for the drive.”

  “Are you back together?”

  “I think so. We’re going out tonight.”

  “Oh, Gina, I’m so glad!”

  “Me, too. It never would have happened without your help, Shell.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Actually, you did. After we finish our coffee, I’m going to pack up and go home. I’m going to stay at my place again. Now that Micky and I are starting over, I think it’s better if I’m in my apartment. Thanks for taking me in, though.”

  “I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

  “I would.”

  “I was actually about to tell you,” said Shell, “that I think we should go stay at Margie’s for a while. My landlord has had a complaint about the dog.”

  “But she’s been so good, and her little barks aren’t loud at all.”

  “I know. People!”

  “So, are you going to stay over there?”

  “Yeah. I mentioned it to Margie already and she packed up her stuff and took it this morning when she took Tabitha. I’m going to gather up a few things and go over there tonight. I thought you’d be going with us, but it sounds like you’ve got something better to do.”

  Gina smiled. “Yeah. I was so happy last night I couldn’t even sleep. But don’t think I’m dropping out of trying to help you solve the murder mystery. I’m not.”

  “I wasn’t at all worried about that.”

  “You know,” Gina added thoughtfully, “I think Dr. Leone would be proud of us for trying to figure this thing out. If it had happened to some other teacher in the department, or even to one of the students, she’d have been right here with us, trying to work it out, too.”

  “I think you’re right, Gina. For some reason, that gives me courage.”

  Shell got into her Corolla and headed south. Her mind was awhirl with how to approach the conversation she needed to have. It occurred to her that what she was doing was foolhardy, and Margie had warned her to remember she was not invincible, but she couldn’t see a way to get any further without a confrontation of some kind. Brigitte normally worked at the co-op on Monday mornings, so Shell figured there was a reasonable chance of finding her home.

  She took Congress to William Cannon and headed south again on Circle S Road, driving along slowly, looking for the address. She saw the red Malibu before she saw the number, but she drove on along the street, just checking it out. In a while she turned back and parked a distance away before getting out of her car and walking along the grassy shoulder back to Brigitte’s house, a feeling of apprehension coming over her that she couldn’t shake. There was no telling what she would find in this somewhat dilapidated mid-century modern house. At the door she looked back across the dry, winter lawn toward the street. The edges hadn’t been trimmed in months, and all the flower beds were empty except for weeds. This was a rental, but the landlord was clearly phoning it in. Not a whole lot of pride of ownership here, she thought before pushing the bell.

  When the door opened, Shell could barely see inside the darkened living room. There was a silence before she heard Brigitte’s voice.

  “Shell?” she asked, her voice sounding strange and far away.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to ask you about a lost painting. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  Brigitte didn’t answer for a few moments. Finally, she spoke, “Okay.” She said it quietly and slowly pulled the door open wider and stepped back to allow Shell inside. Once she had taken a few steps into the dark living room, Brigitte closed the door and turned the lock.

  What have I gotten myself into here?

  It was dark enough that Shell had to wait a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and even then it was fairly hard to see. There was an old couch against the south wall, and there were a couple of club chairs in front of it on either side of a square coffee table. Paintings were leaning against the west wall of the room, one against another, making it clear that Brigitte kept busy with her art. A large painting hung on the wall above the sofa, and even in the dim light, Shell recognized it. It was Jeremy’s weird birch trees.

  She was stunned. Why is Jeremy’s painting hanging above Brigitte’s sofa? She looked from the painting to Brigitte and back again.

  “Why is it so dark in here?” she asked, that vague feeling of nerves making her conscious of her own heartbeat.

  “I have a headache. The light makes it worse.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you have migraines?”

  “Sometimes. What’s this about a lost painting?”

  Shell noted that Brigitte wasn’t very forthcoming, and there was a note of something in her voice. Probably suspicion. “I gave it to Dr. Leone, and she was going to discuss it with me last Tuesday, but when I found her, it didn’t appear to be there. I thought she might have brought it into the co-op earlier and someone might know where it had been put.”

  “Hmm,” said Brigitte, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead, she put her fingers to her temples and rubbed them in a circular motion.

  “I need to sit down,” she said.

  Shell looked at the painting above the sofa and back at Brigitte. “I’m pretty confused,” she said.

  “You and me both,” said Brigitte, allowing her long body to sink into one of the club chairs. “You can sit if you want.”

  “What’s going on, Brigitte?” Shell asked, taking the chair opposite her.

  “With me and Jeremy?” she asked in a tired voice.

  “Yes.”

  “There’s no point in trying to hide it. You know about us. I could see it in your eyes when I ran into you and your friends at Gigi’s.”

  “You’re with Jeremy?” Shell asked, trying to get her head around this revelation.

  “Of course. Who else?” she answered. “I know it was wrong of me, Shell, but I couldn’t help it. He�
��s so gorgeous, and he was attentive and sweet at first. I didn’t know his girlfriend was your friend until I met her when she was with you and Gina at Gigi’s. Then I knew his ex had to be your friend.”

  “How did you make the connection?”

  There was another silence as if Brigitte was trying to decide whether or not to go on. “I read a text on his cell phone when he was in the shower. It said something like, ‘I’ve moved you out. Come get your stuff off my porch.’ I knew then that the girlfriend he’d promised to break up with was someone named Margie, and I knew she broke up with him, not the other way round.”

  “So when I introduced you to Margie—”

  “I knew it was her.”

  “By just her first name?”

  “It’s not all that common, but I’d seen her picture on his phone. I recognized her when you introduced us.”

  Shell nodded and thought for a moment. “So, he’s been living here?”

  “Since Tuesday night. It took me a couple of days after that to check his phone.”

  “But you’ve been seeing him for a while?”

  “He’s been coming around for almost two months. I didn’t know I should check him out at first. He admitted he was in a relationship but that it was ending, and he was trying to ‘let her down easy.’ I thought he was being kind and he was really falling for me. He seemed so nice.”

  “But it sounds like you’ve figured him out.”

  “I told him I wanted to break up this morning. He said he’d be back later and we’d talk about it, but there isn’t anything he can say or do that’s going to convince me.”

  “So you’re finished with him?”

  “Yes, sort of. It won’t be instantaneous, but now it’s my turn to move him out.”

  “Did you learn about how violent he’s been with Margie? How he vandalized her car and her house?”

  “No,” she answered, “but now that I’ve seen his true colors, it doesn’t surprise me.” She was reaching for the lamp beside her as she spoke. Suddenly, light illuminated her face. “He doesn’t like it when people break up with him,” she said.

  In the bright light, Shell could see the bruise around Brigitte’s left eye, large and purple.

  “Oh my God! He hit you?” Shell asked.

  “Yes. When I said it wasn’t working for me anymore.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, he said he’d hurt me worse if I reported him. Then he apologized all over himself and said he loved me and he didn’t know why he’d done that and asked me to forgive him. He’s full of it.”

  “Well, he won’t get a chance to hurt you again if you report him. He’ll be arrested.”

  “Actually, Shell, that’s a very naive view of how things work. My father beat my mother my entire life. He’d get taken in when someone—not my mom—would report him. Pretty soon he’d be out again and hopping mad that she hadn’t defended him. Then it would start all over again.”

  “But she must have taken him back! We can get help for you. There’s already a restraining order on Jeremy. He’s got issues. Serious issues.”

  “He’s the kind of guy who charms his way out of getting in trouble and charms his way into places he doesn’t deserve to be. Even Dr. Leone was taken in by him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She hired him to watch her husband.”

  “I heard a rumor to that effect.”

  “Yeah, Irving Jansen was cheating on Dr. Leone! I couldn’t believe it! She was so good and kind and pretty,” she said, reaching up and turning out the lamp. “She helped me. I thought I’d help Jeremy when he started watching her husband, but once I knew what was going on I wanted to go to her and tell her, but Jeremy said not to. He said it would be harder on her if she knew than if she didn’t. I didn’t understand that.”

  “So, he didn’t tell her?”

  “No. He said something about solving the problem himself. I don’t know what the hell he thought he was doing. Sometimes he just seems like he doesn’t have a grip on reality.”

  “How did he think he was going to solve the problem?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “But you were helping him?”

  “Yes. When Dr. Leone realized we were seeing each other, she asked me if I’d help him. She thought I might be able to learn things her husband was doing that a man would have trouble finding out. Anyway, she gave each of us five thousand dollars.”

  “Wow. She spent ten thousand dollars to have you spy on her husband?”

  “I know. It was a lot, and I was so happy about it. I’ve never had much money, and I decided I’d spend it on myself. I’ve never had enough to buy nice things. I bought a nice purse and some good shoes and a few other things. I know that was stupid. I should have saved it and used it for school, but I just wanted to look nice and keep Jeremy. He always has such expensive stuff.”

  “Yeah, he has wealthy folks.”

  “But I think they’re estranged.”

  “I bet,” Shell answered. Then after a moment of silence she pressed on. “Brigitte, what did you learn when you were watching Irving Jansen?”

  “He was having an affair.”

  “With whom?”

  There was another silence while Brigitte seemed to weigh the pros and cons of answering.

  “Lacy Michaels,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  It was Shell’s turn to fall silent. After a few moments she said, “I saw her on Saturday. I asked her about my lost painting, and she told me I should ask you, that you had always disliked me and would have taken note about where it was.”

  “Wow. That was quick thinking,” said Brigitte, shaking her head. “I admit you and I have never exactly hit it off, and I did envy your closeness with Dr. Leone, but I never disliked you. I just felt I could never be part of your circle.”

  “Why, Brigitte?”

  “You look like a girl who grew up with all the benefits of wealth and a supportive family. I didn’t. I come from what people like you call ‘poor white trash.’”

  “I’ve never called anybody a name like that in my entire life, Brigitte, and I never thought anything like that about you. My dad died when I was seventeen, and my mom was a mess for a while. I had to forfeit my scholarship to Cooper Union, so I went to a community college for a year and took care of her. I finally came to Austin because it didn’t cost so much, and my mom was able to help me, so yeah, I’ve had some advantages, but we were an ordinary middle-class family. My mom’s an elementary school teacher!”

  “Yeah, well my mom’s an alcoholic, and she’s never had any job.”

  “I’m sorry, Brigitte, but that’s not your fault, and I can’t imagine anyone blaming you for that.”

  “Then you’ve lived a sheltered life.”

  “Well, now that we’ve talked, I hope you see things differently and we can be friends.”

  “Yes, maybe we can. I’m not sure Margie’s ever going to like me much.”

  “I don’t think she’ll care a bit about your relationship with Jeremy.” There was another silence, and Shell’s mind turned back to Lacy Michaels.

  “Why did you say it was quick thinking when Lacy told me you’d always disliked me?”

  “Because, if anyone in the co-op has anything against you, it’s Lacy Michaels. We were hanging paintings in the gallery before the opening back in September, and she hung your painting—the one of the house with sunflowers—in the back of the gallery. Dr. Leone came in and made her put it near the entrance.”

  “I didn’t know that had happened.”

  “Yes. Dr. Leone said something about putting the more colorful paintings near the lobby, but it was obvious she was promoting you, and she liked that painting—”

  “What did Lacy do?”

  “She did what Dr. Leone told her to do. I mean, her job depended on her being subo
rdinate, but she was pissed.”

  “Did she let on?”

  “Not until later when Dr. Leone had gone back to her office. She said something about favoritism being out of line and inappropriate. Then she said something about not thinking you were nearly as talented as everybody said you were.”

  “I wasn’t really conscious of Dr. Leone promoting me. I knew she wanted to help me succeed, but I thought she wanted that for all of us.”

  “Look, it’s natural for some people to be closer than others. She was nice to me, too, so I didn’t take it so personally. I know I’ve got some talent, but I haven’t been working on my painting for all that long. My undergrad scholarship was just general. It wasn’t for art like yours to Cooper Union. I came to it a couple of years after starting college.”

  “How long you’ve been working at it makes a difference, but you know Dr. Leone liked your work.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I’m not sure she liked Lacy’s.”

  “It’s pretty conceptual. Not her style, that’s all.”

  “But I think it upset Lacy that she wasn’t given the deference you were.”

  “So do you think she started pursuing Dr. Leone’s husband to get back at her?”

  “I don’t know, really. I imagine Lacy is jealous of a lot of people. You, Dr. Leone, anybody who looks successful or beautiful.”

  “Do you think Dr. Leone knew it was Lacy who was having an affair with her husband?”

  “I don’t think so. Jeremy wouldn’t have told her, and I was planning to, but then she died.”

  “Did he have an appointment with her that morning?”

  “Yes, he was supposed to talk to her, and he said he did, but when he left her, she was alive.”

  “So, if he’s telling the truth, someone else came into the co-op after him and before I got there.”

  “Yes, I guess so. I got to the co-op and saw the police cars and I knew. I just knew she was dead! Dr. Leone, the only person I’ve known since I came to Austin who treated me like she wanted me to succeed! It made me sick!”

  “But how did you know?”

  “I knew she was in a troubled marriage, and I’m no stranger to violent husbands. My dad was horrible. Plus, you don’t get four police cars in one parking lot over a petty theft, Shell. I knew it was something bad. I mean, there was Dr. Leone’s Volvo right in front of the building, and there were two cops standing near it to make sure none of us touched it. Obviously, they were preventing us from contaminating any evidence.”