Romancing the Brush: An Austin, Texas Art Mystery (The Michelle Hodge Series Book 3)

by Roslyn Woods

  “Shell, you’ve got to get this off your chest,” said Margie, sitting down beside her and putting an arm around her. “You look awful. You’re obviously not eating or sleeping. In another day you’ll be like a pencil!”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “You know, if you won’t tell me, Dean will.”

  “Well, if he does, I hope he’s fair,” Shell answered, looking up for a moment. “I don’t see how he can be fair without all the…”

  “All the what? All the facts? He doesn’t have all the facts?”

  Shell shook her head. It was pounding, and she just needed a strong painkiller right now. That, and for Dean to come over here and apologize and take her in his arms…but she couldn’t let herself think like that. It would never happen, and even if he decided he wanted her, she herself was too hurt to go back to him.

  “Listen,” Margie said, “you guys can’t do this to me. I need you to be together. You’re all the family I’ve got, and it’s been pretty wonderful these last six months being a family for each other. We all need each other, Shell!”

  “It wasn’t my decision,” she answered quietly.

  Just then they heard shouting from the other room. Margie opened the door in time to hear Billie’s voice.

  “…think I have a right to know, that’s all! Gone at weird hours! Always having to meet someone! Who? I just want to know who and why?”

  “I don’t have to put up with these questions, Billie!” Leonardo was shouting. “No more questions!” And then the kitchen door slammed.

  Margie stood in the hallway with wide eyes looking into the living room at Billie’s trembling shoulders. In a moment Shell was in the hall, too, and they could hear the car starting and the garage door opening again. From the sidelight by the front door Margie watched as the red car pulled out of the drive. It burned a little rubber as it started up the street.

  Billie turned around and looked at the two women staring from the hall. “I guess we’re having a trouble fest,” he said, shakily.

  “I think,” said Margie, “I’ll just go home and pick a fight with Donald.”

  Chapter 22

  After Margie left, Shell sat down on the couch and looked at Billie sadly. She had begun to think that if they hadn’t started the gallery all of their lives would be better. Garrett would still be alive and living in Dallas. Dean wouldn’t have missed his Friday appointment with Melinda, so he could have gone with her to Dallas to see Jan. Billie and Leonardo wouldn’t be dealing with all these problems that seemed to be related to what had happened to Garrett. Margie’s brother and best friend would still be together, providing her baby with a feeling of family and a sense of security. Shell herself would still have a wonderful boyfriend, a close relationship with her best friend, and a hundred and ten thousand dollars in her bank account.

  But they had started the gallery. Garrett had come to Austin to help them. He had been murdered. Dean had missed his appointment that made it impossible for him to go with her to Dallas to see Jan.

  “Sometimes things just go wrong,” said Billie. “You strive to be happy, to create a world you can live in that will be fulfilling, and everything just goes to hell in a handbag. You thought you were prepared but you weren’t. It’s like one of those nightmares where you’re a model who’s shown up on the runway where everyone’s wearing Coco Chanel and you find you’re wearing something designed by the Olsen twins.” He was staring into the tea, cold in the cup he had left on the coffee table, and looking more dejected than Shell had ever seen him. She felt just the way he looked.

  “And now we’re caught in this spiral and we just have to go down to the bottom and see where we land.”

  “There’s one thing I know. No matter how bad it gets, I’m never eating Maudie’s Tex Mex,” said Billie.

  “Me neither.”

  “Finish your toast darling. You’re going to be nauseous if you don’t get something down. I have crackers, too.”

  “I’ll try to eat the toast,” said Shell.

  Three hours later, Billie’s phone rang. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen counter, obviously hoping it would be Leonardo calling to apologize.

  “Hello…Yes,” he was saying, but he sounded disappointed. “Yes, that’s good news…Shell Hodge is with me. We can meet you over there to get the painting…But what happens to the keys? ...Probate? ...I see…Yes…yes, thanks…Four o’clock will be fine…Thank you, Sergeant.”

  As he hung up, Billie looked over at Shell. “I just assumed we can go over there in your car. No way that painting will fit in the MG.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to meet Sergeant Gonzalez and pick up Comanche Sky. Garrett’s house is no longer deemed a crime scene.”

  “That’s good. It’s two-thirty, so we should leave here in an hour to get there by four.”

  “Yeah. Let’s get you a smoothie on the way, shall we? I know you’re not going to eat solid food,” he suggested.

  “Okay,” said Shell. “Let’s go now, then.”

  “Do you need me to drive?” he asked.

  “I think I can still drive,” she answered.

  They were on the road in a matter of minutes. Shell took Riverside over to I-35 and headed north to Mueller. It was a shopping center combined with an extensive housing development. The smoothie place was there, and Billie went in and ordered one for each of them.

  “Okay,” he said when he brought the drinks back, “yours has got yogurt and raspberries, honey and vitamins. If you drink this, your headache is going to go away. I promise.”

  “I hope so,” said Shell as she took her first sip. “By the way, what did I hear you saying about probate when you were talking to Sergeant Gonzalez?”

  “Well,” Billie answered as he put his drink in the cup holder and sat down to put on his seatbelt, “he’s been talking to Garrett’s lawyer. Apparently the police found him through the contacts on his cell phone. Anyway, Garrett had a will and there will be a reading on Friday evening. Someone’s going to inherit a bundle of dinero.”

  “Who’s being asked to the reading?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I found a business card on Leonardo’s nightstand. Walter Friedman and Associates from Dallas. Gonzalez mentioned Walter Friedman, so I guess that’s someone Leonardo has been talking to.”

  “He hasn’t told you who he’s talking to? I don’t get it.”

  “Well, darling, I don’t get it either, and it’s got me in a little snit. But, as you can see, this has happened before and I’m just not going to let it ruin my hairdo.”

  “You’re so much stronger than I am.”

  “I don’t feel strong, but I’m not as bad as I was a few months ago. You forget I’ve been dealing with Leonardo’s commitment issues for a while longer than you’ve been dealing with Dean’s,” he said. “Which reminds me, let’s drive by your house and see if Dean’s home. If he’s not we can run in and get you some clothes and things.”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea,” said Shell, but her pulse immediately started tripping in her ears, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to drive up Barrow Avenue. It was only 3:30, and it would only take a minute or so to get to Garrett’s when she was finished at her house.

  “And after we get the painting, I think we should call Estelle and Enrique Mendoza and set up another meeting so Mendoza can see this one. I think Sunday would be good, because didn’t he have a music event or something on Sunday? If we can sell the three paintings, we’ll get enough money to hold us over for a while.”

  “Okay, but aren’t you worried about authenticity? I mean, Garrett wasn’t sure about these paintings.”

  “I know, but you said Enrique Mendoza appeared to be really knowledgeable. Can’t he decide?”

  “It would really hurt our reputation if it came out later that we sold some fakes.”

  “Yeah, well, if Garrett had lived we wouldn’t need this sale so much, but I think we should set up the meeting.
Mendoza doesn’t have to buy them. We’ve got to stay afloat.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Shell wasn’t surprised to see Dean’s car in the carport. What surprised her was seeing another car on the pad behind his. It was a burgundy-colored Honda Accord with tinted windows. She hadn’t seen it before and was ready to drive on past when she found herself parking her car in her own carport.

  “What are you doing?” Billie asked.

  “I’m going in anyway,” she heard herself saying.

  “Do you want me to come help?”

  “No, I won’t be long.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” she said as she got out of the car. She went up her own steps and turned her key in the lock. The door opened and she walked in. Nothing was changed from the way it had been when she had left yesterday afternoon. She walked around for a minute, just looking at everything. The crated paintings still lay on the dining room table. The check still lay beside them.

  She went into her bedroom and gathered a few things from the closet. She stacked two dresses, a couple of blouses, and a black pantsuit across the queen-sized bed, figuring she didn’t need a lot more. Then she found an overnight bag and tossed in a few pairs of dress shoes, Bitsy’s leash, and the framed photograph of her parents that was sitting on her dresser. She needed that with her. Then, carrying the clothes across one arm and the overnight bag in the other, she headed back out the front door. She put everything in the trunk of the Corolla, closed it, and went back up the steps to lock the door.

  Just as she turned the key in the lock, she heard Dean’s front door open. She turned and looked. It wasn’t Dean. It was Melinda Gardner leaving Dean’s house. She was maybe an inch shorter than Shell and very stylish in a yellow halter dress, and her long black tresses hung past her bare shoulders. She was stopping and turning back to say something to Dean as he stood just inside the door. Shell couldn’t quite make it out, but what she said sounded friendly, almost intimate, and it was followed by a lilting laugh.

  Shell distinctly heard Dean’s voice saying, “Thanks, Mindy.” Mindy? Mindy? Melinda was carrying an overnight bag herself, and Shell stood frozen, watching the pretty woman in the high-heeled sandals turn and make her way down the steps without even looking in her direction.

  A pillar of salt, Shell was paralyzed by what she had just seen. She continued to stand on her front porch as the other woman got in her car and started it. Dean came out of the house and waved at Melinda as her car eased out of the drive. Then he turned to go in and saw Shell standing on her porch, just looking at him. She perceived his surprise at her presence, and then she could see him reading her expression. His face seemed to change, his jaw clenched, and before he turned to go back in the house he looked back at the place where Melinda had parked and back at Shell again. His eyes seemed to ask, How does it feel?

  Shell didn’t speak. She was still frozen, mortified, agony visible in her eyes. Billie suddenly jumped out of the car. “Well, hi, Dean!” he said in a voice that sounded friendly. Then looking back at Shell he said, “Come on, Shell. We’re going to be late! Oh, and Shell, I’ve decided I’d really like to try driving this car!”

  Billie came right up the porch steps and took the keys from her hand. Then he took her elbow and guided her down the steps to the car. By the time he had opened the passenger door for her she was walking fairly normally and seated herself.

  “Bye, Dean! Too-da-loo!” said Billie, and he shut Shell’s door, walked around, and got in the driver’s seat.

  “Oh my God! She jumped on her opportunity!” he said under his breath as he started the car. He looked up and gave Dean a little wave before he added, “I bet you’d like to bitch-slap that little hussy!”

  Chapter 23

  When Margie went to see Dean after visiting Shell at Billie’s house, she hadn’t found him home. She sent him a text and went to her own house and waited to hear from him. But Dean didn’t return her text, and at about 4:30 she called him. This time he answered.

  “Hello, Margie,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you text me back?” she asked.

  “Sorry, I took Carmen over to Garrett’s house and went through it with Sergeant Gonzalez. Then I took her home afterwards, and after that a client came over with a stack of photographs she wanted scanned for her website.”

  “What’s going on with you and Shell?” she asked abruptly.

  There was a pause before he answered. “Look, Margie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m guessing you’ve talked to her anyway. I don’t know what to say about it.”

  “What happened?”

  There was a silence. Margie was just about to ask Dean if he was still on the line when he finally spoke. “What did she say happened?”

  “Oh, Jesus! You people! Would one of you break down and tell me anything please?”

  “She must have told you something.”

  “Yeah, she told me she can’t tell me anything because she won’t say anything about a man to his sister.”

  “Did she say we’re having trouble?”

  “She said you broke up. That’s it.”

  “Well, she probably doesn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Would it hurt me if she told me what happened?”

  “It might.”

  “Well, surprise, surprise, it’s hurting me anyway. I love you guys and I need you to be together. This isn’t going to be okay with me Dean, so you’d better just fix it.”

  He could hear the emotion in her voice. “It’s not going to be that easy.”

  “Billie said he was mad at you because of something you didn’t do. What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You know, most problems are solved by talking them out. Have you tried that?”

  “This one won’t be solved that way.”

  “What did you do? You’ve hurt her, Dean. You’ve hurt her terribly. She can’t eat or sleep—”

  “I’ve hurt her? I’ve hurt her?” he asked angrily.

  “What? She’s hurt you?”

  “Let’s just say, this wasn’t my doing.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Why did she say that?”

  “Actually, she said the break up wasn’t her decision.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not the one who caused it.”

  “So you’re saying she caused it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “She must have done something pretty awful,” Margie said. “Seems to me the only thing I can think of that would cause a break-up would be cheating. Do you think she’s been cheating, Dean? Because, if you do, I have something to tell you! She’s not the cheating kind. She’s the most honest person I’ve ever met. Plus, she’s in love with you. She’d never cheat on you. So you’d better rethink that, Dean Maxwell! Whatever it is you think, it’s wrong.”

  “She’s not in love with me. She’s never loved me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I wish I were wrong. You have no idea how I wish…” Then he stopped.

  “Would you do one thing for me?” Margie asked.

  “What?” Weariness was evident in his voice.

  “Would you just talk to her?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Dean said.

  “This is pretty weird.”

  “I thought,” he said, “she’d be staying with you. Then she came by the house with Billie today.”

  “Yeah, She’s avoiding me because she doesn’t want to come between me and my brother.”

  “What’s she doing down here anyway?”

  “What are you talking about? Did something happen in Dallas?”

  “Listen, I’m not sure she’s safe over there.”

  “What are you talking about? Where?”

  “At Billie and Leonardo’s.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because of what I already told you about seeing the Ford Escape in front of Garrett’s house Monday mornin
g. Why was it there? What’s going on with those guys? Is Shell safe with them?”

  “Well, you should go talk to her and explain your fears to her.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “I’m not going to try to protect her the same way you would. I don’t see the problem.”

  “Margie, she might be in danger. She’d listen to you.”

  “I don’t think so. If you’re worried about her, call her.”

  “I’m not going to call her, Margie.”

  “I’m coming over to see you tomorrow. We’re not finished talking about this.”

  “Whatever. Nothing will change my mind about this.”

  “And I’m bringing Donald.”

  “Oh, God, this is none of anyone’s business.”

  “That’s not true. This affects me, and I get to have a say.”

  “Not in my love life.”

  “Oh, you don’t know,” she said, and she hung up the phone.

  Dean hadn’t been sleeping or eating either. He was nauseous most of the time, and last night had been almost entirely sleepless. The wink or two he did get was, each time, abruptly ended by a dream about Shell. After the last dream, he had awakened in a cold sweat. His only comfort had been Sadie, whining and looking quizzically at him in the darkness. How could Shell do this to him? What was she thinking? She had told him last October that she “didn’t care for” her ex. So, why had she contacted him?

  It seemed completely unlike her. Margie was right. She seemed entirely honest, kind, someone with really solid values. Why would she do this? Over and over again he tried to imagine an excuse that explained surprising Shell in her hotel room and finding her in Brad Bauer’s arms. He didn’t know which hurt worse, the vision of Shell’s hand on the back of that guy’s neck, or the rumpled bed behind them.

  The fact that Dean’s relationship with Shell was over was not to be questioned. But the fact that he loved her, would always love her, was also indisputable. There were moments, hours even, when he had convinced himself that he hated her. But the rest of the time, his inner world was one of longing and deep sadness. What woman had ever held a candle to her? What chance was there that he would ever feel passionate and tender about anyone ever again?