by Roslyn Woods
“Yes.”
“And, my understanding is that he thought there could be an authenticity issue.”
“So? Yes. That was his job. You can’t be too careful these days. There are fakes everywhere.”
“So I hear. Did he tell you about his concerns?”
“Sure. It’s silly to make an issue of it, Sergeant. This is just standard procedure in the art world. Everything gets looked at pretty carefully. He wanted to take a little more time with my paintings because no one knew they existed until recently. He actually ended up authenticating the ones I brought in February, and they were sold, but the new ones were still being looked at. It’s very sad, what happened.”
“Yes. But he had questions about the three new paintings you were offering.”
“Just like before. Like I said, standard procedure.”
“And I understand you said something to Billie Morrison about signing an agreement.”
“So? Yes. You always do that. You bring your paintings to a gallery and they offer them to the public and you sign an agreement about the split and when they’ll be shown and so on. It’s just the way it is. I reminded him that we had an agreement about when the art was to be shown. You people who aren’t in business—”
“All I really need to know, Ms. Travis,” said the sergeant, cutting her off, “is where you were on Friday morning. Where were you?”
“On Friday? I slept in till about eight, as I usually do, and I got up and got ready for the meeting at ten. Only I got the call from Billie telling me Garrett Hall had been killed.”
“And you demanded that the meeting go ahead?”
“It wasn’t for my sake. The buyer had flown all the way here just to look at the paintings. I just wanted him to get to see them and leave.”
“You say you slept in. Where? Where did you sleep in?”
“At my home in Dripping Springs.”
“Anyone with you?”
“I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No. I’m asking if anyone was in the house to verify the fact that you were there.”
“Well, Cook was there.”
“Cook?”
“My help. She likes me to call her ‘Cook.’ Her real name is Juanita something. Juanita Gomez or Diaz or something.”
“And she’s on the payroll?”
“Oh let’s be real, Sergeant. She’s not legal. I pay her in cash. So sue me. Everyone in Texas does it.”
“But if she has to be used as a witness, she’ll likely be fingered by Immigration.”
“That’s not really my problem. I’m not running for office. I’ve given her a job for several years. She should be grateful for that, don’t you think?”
“Okay. That’s about it, then. I’d like to come to your home and speak with this ‘Juanita something’ in the next day or so. Will that be possible?”
“Yes, sure. I’m just surprised you’re not asking me about Leonardo Parisi and Garrett Hall.”
“What did you want me to ask?”
“It’s not that I want you to ask anything. I’m just surprised you’re not addressing the elephant in the room.”
“Which is?”
“The fact that those two were lovers!”
“Why do you say that, Ms. Travis?”
“Because it was just obvious. Their affection for each other was very apparent!”
“How so?”
“Well, you could just tell!”
“You said that, but how?”
“I don’t know. But I’d look into it if I were you.”
“Why?”
“Because gay men are very, very likely to be unfaithful. I’ve heard that a lot. It would certainly give one of them a motive for offing the other one.”
“So in this case, you’re saying you think Parisi shot Hall. Is that right?”
“I think it’s a very strong possibility.”
“Well, thank you for your assistance, Ms. Travis. I’ll be calling you very soon,” said Gonzalez while signaling Wilson with his eyes to get the woman out of his sight.
“I’ll show you out,” said Wilson, gesturing toward the door.
“Okay,” she said, standing up and looking discomfited at being ushered out. She wasn’t on her own turf, and Gonzalez didn’t have any more patience for today.
Chapter 32
Shell got a call on her cell from Walter Friedman’s secretary at two-thirty on Friday afternoon. She was being invited to attend the reading of the will of Garrett Hall that evening at the law offices of Richard St. John and Associates. She was told that the Westside Gallery was named in the will, and her presence would be appreciated.
“Leonardo,” Shell said when the call had ended, “what’s this about?”
“I believe,” he answered, as Shell seated herself on the sofa across from him, “that Garrett must have left some provision in his will for our gallery. We’re equal partners, so we’re all being asked to attend the reading.”
“But Garrett has only been a part of the gallery for such a short time! It seems so strange that he already set his will up to include it!”
“I know. It’s really only been about ten weeks since he joined us,” said Leonardo. “He was often making calls to his lawyer to change this or that about his will. He seemed to feel his mortality more keenly than other people.”
“But he was such a healthy person,” said Billie. “It seems like he would feel like he had all the time in the world.”
“You forget that his brother died at sixty-five,” said Leo. “And Garrett often had psychic readings done. Maybe he was told he didn’t have long. He and I went up to Dallas last week to see his reader. We also went by the Bauer Gallery. I didn’t want to tell you, Shell, because…well I thought it might bother you.”
“Why? Because of Brad? It wouldn’t have, but I didn’t know about the readings,” said Shell. “Garrett believed in that stuff?”
“Yes,” said Leo. “I kinda believe in that stuff, too. Anyway, he found this reader a few years ago who he thought really had a connection to another dimension. He said she changed his life.”
Shell nodded slowly. She had often wondered about such things herself, but she had never had the confidence that she would be able to find a genuine psychic if she had a reading done. Except for Carmen and Dean, she had never told anyone how she talked to her parents after they died, how she almost believed they were still with her at some level. Deep in her heart she believed in an unseen reality. “I wish I could have talked with Garrett about this,” she said quietly. “I have to believe that love doesn’t die with the body. There’s more. There has to be more.”
“He would have loved to talk to you, Shell,” said Leonardo sadly. “It meant so much to him, and he wasn’t one of those crazy people none of us wants anything to do with.”
“We’re all going to miss him, Leo. I know you’ll miss him the most, but I’m going to miss him, too.”
“Thanks, Shell. He really liked you,” Leonardo said with tears in his eyes. “He…had a real respect for you.” It seemed as if he might say something more, but he stopped and reached for her hand and held it for a moment.
Shell felt closer to Leonardo since he had come home the night before. The pain of losing Garrett had changed him. His vulnerable side was more visible, and he and Billie seemed to be a team again. It was comforting somehow. As complicated as their relationship was, she was grateful to have these friends who cared for each other and wanted to be supportive of her, and she desperately needed friends right now.
The law offices of Walter Friedman’s Austin associates were housed in an old, Austin mansion near Nueces and 11th Street. The offices for the individual attorneys had been made from what were once the bedrooms of the home, the lobby was once the front parlor, and the conference room had once been a formal dining room. In that room, there was a mahogany dining table, and the appropriate number of seats—for the people attending the reading of the will—were arranged around it. Th
is evening, there were exactly nine chairs at the table, four on each of the long sides, and one at the head.
Shell was surprised to see that Sergeant Gonzalez and Detective Wilson were seated on one side of the table with two empty chairs between them. Walter Friedman pulled a chair for the art director from UT, Linda Judd, just opposite Detective Wilson. Then he pulled a chair for Shell beside the woman, and Billie and Leonardo seated themselves in the two remaining chairs on Shell’s side of the table. In a moment, Marlon Hall and his mother, Alice, arrived and Walter Friedman gestured for them to seat themselves in the two remaining chairs between the detectives.
“I’d like to thank all of you for coming this evening,” said Walter Friedman when everyone was settled. He himself was seated at the head of the table, and it occurred to Shell that he had orchestrated their places rather carefully.
With Marlon Hall just opposite her, she could see that he was a very strange-looking man, nothing like his deceased uncle. He was small and pink-skinned with a heavily sprayed hairstyle. It was hard not to notice him, since he kept fidgeting with the flag pin on his jacket’s lapel. Alice, beside him, was thin and gray, and she stared blankly in front of her and spoke to no one.
“I’d like to preface everything,” Friedman was saying, “by telling you that even though the will of Garrett Hall is being read tonight, the actions it demands will not be executed before the murder investigation of Mr. Hall has come to a reasonable conclusion.”
At this moment Shell exchanged glances with Sergeant Gonzalez. “Because of that investigation,” said Friedman, “I have invited Sergeant Gonzalez and Detective Wilson of the Austin Police Department to be present for this reading. I would also like to state that any legal contest of this will, by any interested party, will result in that party, or those parties, being removed from the will entirely, and the inheritance of that individual, or those individuals, will pass to a charity already named by the deceased, and known only to me, the estate’s executor. I have been an estate attorney for over thirty years, and I can assure you, this will is unwavering and unalterable. It is, in a word: ironclad. It behooves me to tell everyone present here, it is in your best interests to accept the terms of this will as it stands or lose your part in it.”
Something was going down, and Shell was well aware that Garrett must have expected his will to result in a serious conflict on the part of someone. Why else would Walter Friedman invite the police into the room? Or perhaps, because of the interested parties, someone was being looked at as having a motive for committing Garrett’s murder.
Shell and Billie exchanged glances many times during the next half hour. Walter Friedman continued with his reading, and much of what he read was a blur of legal language Shell didn’t understand, but the gist of it was that Marlon Hall, Garrett’s nephew, and Marlon’s mother, were to receive four hundred thousand dollars in small, monthly installments for many months to come. The art department at UT was to receive a million dollars, and the Westside Gallery was to receive two million dollars. Shell was so astonished at this news that she almost didn’t understand what followed. It seemed that Leonardo was to receive the rest of Garrett’s estate including all of his investments. How much it amounted to she had no idea, but she knew it had to be quite a lot. There were several savings accounts named, two houses, and an art collection.
Marlon Hall was not taking it well. “This will not stand!” he shouted at Walter Friedman as the reading concluded. The skin on his face, which had been pink, was now quite red. “These sinners do not deserve my family’s inheritance! God will rebuke you! God will smite all of you!”
“I’d watch my step, Mr. Hall, if I were you,” Mr. Friedman replied. “There are a great number of witnesses present, and you stand to lose a nice little sum of money if you go too far.”
You could almost see steam coming out of Marlon’s ears. He stood, and his mother tried to get up as well, but he was too worked up to notice her. Sergeant Gonzalez, on Alice’s left, stood and helped the older woman to stand while Marlon looked at Walter Friedman with eyes as red and angry as his complexion. He pointed his finger at him and said, “Get thee behind me Satan! I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ!”
Wilson was standing now, towering over the little man who was pointing his finger at the lawyer. “How about I show you people out of the building?” he said.
“Don’t you touch me!” said Marlon, staring up at Wilson with large, frightened eyes. “Don’t you dare touch me! You’re all in the grip of the devil!” he added, and he took his mother’s elbow and started for the door while a silent Detective Wilson walked along beside him—a tolerant Great Dane beside a yappy Pomeranian—and Gonzalez followed.
The drive back to Billie and Leonardo’s house was more than strained. Billie wasn’t speaking to Leonardo. Shell sat in the backseat pondering over what had just unfolded, and Billie seemed to be silently weeping in the front passenger seat.
At last he spoke. “I know you knew! You knew! And I want to know why! Why?”
“Not now, Billie,” Leonardo answered quietly.
Shell hated being trapped in the backseat of the Escape at that moment. This was terribly awkward, and who knew how it would turn out?
“Don’t you tell me ‘not now’!” Billie continued. “You can’t ever tell me what’s appropriate or inappropriate again! I’m sick of all your deception! I’m through, Leonardo! Through! I don’t care how rich you are. I won’t live with someone who’s lied and lied and lied to me!”
“It’s not what it looks like, Billie.”
“Yes it is! It’s exactly what it looks like! You were…carrying on and telling me—”
“I wasn’t carrying on with anyone, ever. I promise you, I wasn’t, and I never was, and I never would.”
“I just don’t understand what all these episodes of leaving have been about then, Leonardo. You spent so much time with him, and you’ve been leaving since he died. You’ve been leaving and staying gone, and you’ve come home and acted as if you’re with me!”
By the illumination of the streetlights they were passing, Shell could see tears on Billie’s face as he looked at his partner. She squirmed in the back of the car. How much further was it to their house? How long till she could get her stuff and her dog and get in her car and go anywhere else?
“I was with you, and I am with you,” Leonardo said. “I have reasons for what I’ve done that I’m not at liberty to divulge.”
“Oh for God’s sake quit with that crap already!” Billie answered. “If you have a secret, you’d better open up now or forever hold your peace!”
“You’re making Shell feel bad, Billie!”
“Oh, she’s tougher than you think!”
“If I tell you, I’m breaking my promise to Garrett! Is that what you want? To make me break my last promise to the man who’s done so much for us? To break my promise to the one person in this world who’s been committed to my success and happiness?”
“One person? One person? How can you say that?”
“The one person who’s been a father to me, Billie! You have parents who love you! It’s different for me! You have no right to judge me for loving him! Garrett has been there for me and only asked me to do one thing for him. Is that the position you’re going to put me in, because if that’s what you want, I’ll answer you, but I’ll never forgive you!”
The garage door opened, and Leonardo parked the car. Shell grabbed her purse and jumped out without saying anything. She hurried into the house and was packing up her stuff when she heard the doorbell ring. It was odd at this hour, nearly nine o’clock, and she knew Billie and Leonardo were still in the garage arguing. Her first thought was that Dean might have come over, might have decided he wanted to talk to her.
Bitsy and Penny were barking at the front door when Shell stepped out into the hall. The porch light was on, and through the sidelight she could see someone tall standing there. Dean, she thought as she approached the door with her heart r
acing. Upon getting closer, however, her heart sank. Detective Wilson was standing there, and beside him was Sergeant Gonzalez.
Shell opened the door. “Yes?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Miss Hodge! I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Sergeant Gonzalez.
“I…I’ve been visiting.”
“I’m afraid we have a warrant to search this house. Are Billie Morrison and Leonardo Parisi here?”
Chapter 33
Shell stared at Sergeant Gonzalez. “Why?” she said without thinking. “We were just at the reading and you didn’t say anything about—”
“Is Leonardo Parisi or Billie Morrison here?” he asked again. She could see over his shoulder that there was another unmarked car outside, and a few people were inside, just waiting to pounce on Billie and Leonardo’s house.
“Yeah. They’re in the garage arguing.” She didn’t know why she filled in that little detail. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered. “I’ll get them. Hang on.”
She left the door open, and the two men remained on the porch while Penny and Bitsy barked at them with all of the ferocity a Chihuahua mix and a purebred Papillon could muster.
“Hey, you guys,” Shell said after going through the kitchen door into the garage and walking over to the passenger side of the Escape. Billie had opened his window and was sitting there with tears on his face. Leonardo didn’t look much happier. “The police are here. They want to talk to you. It’s something about a warrant to search the house.”
“Oh shit!” said Leonardo, getting out of the car. He hurried in through the kitchen door while Billie dried his face on his sleeve and slowly got out of the car.
“What now?” he asked Shell as he passed her. She didn’t have an answer, and he didn’t expect one. She reluctantly followed the two of men back into the house.
Leonardo had invited the detectives in. He was standing in front of them with a piece of paper in his hand, and the two little dogs had returned to the rug in front of the fireplace for the moment, each offering a sharp bark every now and then.