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

by Roslyn Woods

  “Right,” said Leonardo. “Which explains why Tad came over and started hassling us about everything. He wanted us to give up the lease! Then when Garrett came along, Tad had to quit bothering us about it because Garrett said he’d sic his lawyers on him, and Tad quieted down. But you can be sure he still wanted us out so he could sell the building for the big bucks.”

  “Seems like he could have offered you good compensation for finding another building,” said Dean.

  “Yes,” said Billie, “honesty about the situation could have made everything copacetic, but instead he acted all butch, and who knows if he has done anything horrible that we don’t know about,” said Billie, looking as if he might burst into tears at any moment.

  “You think he would do something violent?” asked Donald.

  “I don’t know,” said Leonardo, frowning.

  “But does Dickson link to both Garrett and Shell?” asked Dean.

  “I don’t see how Shell could have been targeted if Thaddeus is the problem,” said Leonardo, looking seriously at Dean.

  “What other troubles have you had?” Dean wanted to know.

  “That’s it unless you’re thinking about Estelle,” said Billie. “She’s been difficult from the beginning. You yourself told me she was horrible when you went to the gallery with Shell.”

  “She was horrible to Shell,” said Dean. “If she’d been a man I’d have knocked her into next week.” Even as he spoke, his fists were pumping.

  “What about the reading? Was there a problem at the reading?” asked Margie.

  “Just Marlon acting like a shit,” said Leonardo. “He thought he could treat Garrett terribly for his whole life and then inherit his entire estate.”

  “Who’s Marlon?” Margie asked.

  “Garrett’s nephew. He’s a Jesus Freak and absolutely insanely anti-gay, if you know what I mean,” Leonardo said.

  “What reason would he have to abduct Shell?” Dean asked.

  “None that I know of. I mean, the gallery does stand to inherit two million dollars and she is a partner, but—”

  “Oh my God!” said Margie. “I had no idea!”

  “But would it make sense for this guy to target Shell over that? What difference would abducting her make to his interest in the estate?” Dean wanted to know.

  “He might,” answered Billie, “just want to get back at somebody.”

  “Does he look capable of something violent?” asked Dean.

  “Not to me,” Leonardo answered. “He looked terrified when Detective Wilson offered to usher him out of the building.”

  “Then who? Who might have a reason to target Shell?” asked Margie, with tears in her eyes. “I think we need to retrace our steps. Dean, has anyone contacted Shell in the last few weeks? Has anyone frightened her?”

  “You tell me. Her cousin contacted her and she went to see her in Dallas?”

  “She said her visit with Jan was ‘okay,’ but she was unhappy about you at the time.”

  Just then there was a loud knock at the door. Donald went over and opened it.

  “Yes?” he asked, pulling the door open wider as he realized the woman standing at the door was holding up a badge.

  “I’m Detective Aquila, and this is Detective Harris. Missing Persons. May we speak with you?”

  “Yes, yes. Come in,” said Donald.

  Chapter 38

  Gonzalez was going over last night’s recording of his interview with Leonardo Parisi. It seemed to him that something interesting had been said about Shell Hodge, and he wondered if it was significant.

  He had gone back to the station after searching Parisi’s home and opened the carved box with the star on top by inserting a paperclip into the keyhole. It had opened easily, and he had been almost disappointed that there were only letters inside. No gun. No weapon of any kind. He had wondered what on earth the point could have been in Parisi taking it.

  At first he thought maybe the letters were between Parisi and Hall and the younger man had feared his partner would see them when probate ended and he inherited everything. Then Gonzalez had started to go through the letters. They were all from Frank Turner to Garrett Hall. And they were all love letters.

  He had gone out into the hall where Parisi and Morrison were waiting with Friedman.

  “I’m ready to interview you, Mr. Parisi,” he had said.

  “I’m ready to talk to you, but Billie’s coming with me,” Parisi had responded.

  “Okay. Can you be open in front of him?”

  “Yes. There’s nothing left to hide.”

  “Okay, then. Shall we proceed, gentlemen?” Gonzalez had said, gesturing toward the interview room, the carved box under one arm, and Friedman had led the way.

  Wilson was already there. He repeated everything he had told them before about recording the interview, and Leonardo Parisi had agreed after getting a nod from Friedman. Wilson had turned on the recording and gone over the preliminaries. Gonzalez moved his cursor past that part and listened.

  “I’ve gone through the box, Mr. Parisi, and there’s no weapon here,” he heard himself saying.

  Parisi said nothing.

  “There were only letters in the box, Mr. Parisi. Can you tell me why these letters were so important to you?”

  “Garrett asked me, made me promise, actually, to take the box if anything ever happened to him. He told me he needed me, above all things, to protect Frank. These letters couldn’t be known by anyone.”

  “Because?”

  “Because Frank chose his family over Garrett, Sergeant. He asked him to release him from the relationship and allow him to be a good father and continue his career at Baylor, and Garrett honored what he wanted.”

  “Release him?”

  “They’d had an affair over a period of a few years, starting back before the time I lived with Garrett. They loved each other. I mean they really, really loved each other. I thought Frank would give up his marriage after his daughters were grown—his youngest was sixteen when they got together—but it didn’t happen.”

  “Why didn’t it happen? It sounds as if his marriage didn’t mean a lot to him.”

  “The marriage was unhappy, I know that. His wife knew about Garrett and didn’t really care. She didn’t love Frank, and he didn’t love her. At least, not romantically. But Frank was really committed to his daughters. After a certain amount of time, he realized he just couldn’t come out to them. He thought the girls would be too hurt by it. He told Garrett that even though he loved him he couldn’t resign as a father and that his first duty was to his daughters, so he broke his own heart and Garrett’s.”

  “They broke up?”

  “Yes. For a time, they wrote letters. I’ve never read them, but they were all they had. I imagine they start at the beginning of their relationship and continue until, I don’t know, maybe last fall.”

  “And why were you given this job of protecting the secret?”

  “I’ve tried to tell you before, Sergeant. I’ve said Garrett was like a father to me, but to Garrett and me, he was my father. We recognized each other years ago when I met him at UT. He followed my career trying to become an artist. When we met again he told me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He told me he’d been seeing a psychic for years and that she’d told him he would meet his son.”

  “Before or after he met you?”

  “The day before he met me at UT. And he recognized me. I actually felt I knew him, too. And there was nothing sexual about it, Sergeant. I felt as if he was my family and I didn’t know why.”

  “Then later?”

  “Later he arranged to do some consulting at the DMA so he could talk to me again. And we talked, and I felt all this love for him. It was wonderful. He started helping me. I moved in with him, he coached me about my work, and eventually we had the conversation. I can’t explain it, but Garrett took me to meet Geraldine Razor, and she hypnotized me. I experienced a past life regression under hypnos
is, and I saw Garrett. He was my father.”

  “Did you have doubts?”

  “No.”

  “How did Frank feel about all this?”

  “He supported it. He believed Garrett and I were connected, and he understood Garrett’s commitment to me.”

  “And your relationship with Garrett Hall never changed into anything else?”

  “Never.”

  “Why were you so worried about the box? What was the likelihood we’d even read the letters?”

  “I couldn’t take that chance. Not once Garrett had been murdered. It seemed inevitable that Frank would be brought in for questioning, and once that happened, everything they’d sacrificed would have been for nothing. Frank’s girls would learn their father was gay, his career—I don’t know what would happen to his career. It was Garrett’s worry, and he asked for my solemn promise.”

  “And now the fact that you took the letters has alerted us to Frank Turner.”

  “I know. I thought I was doing what Garrett wanted.”

  “I can see that.” Here, Gonzalez had paused, thinking. “Do you think there’s any chance Frank might have shot Garrett?”

  “Not in a million years. I’ve spent a lot of time with him since it happened. He’s broken up. Horribly broken up. Garrett was the love of his life.”

  “I’ve seen him since it happened, too.”

  “I know.”

  “Does anyone else know about Frank Turner and these letters?”

  “No. Garrett made me promise to tell no one. He didn’t even want Billie to know. He figured it would be easier to keep the secret if only I knew. He didn’t realize how hard it would be to keep something from Billie. We’re just too close.”

  “What’s the connection to The Phantom of the Opera?”

  “Garrett arranged to meet Frank in New York for an art conference. They had a few days together, saw the musical. It meant a lot to Garrett. Frank, too, I think, but they broke up shortly after that.”

  Gonzalez knew that Frank Turner had an alibi for the morning of the shooting. He wondered about the necessity for an interview with him. “Okay. I don’t see a need to bring him in for questioning at this time. Hopefully, that won’t happen, but I feel I should ask, exactly why did Garrett move to Austin?”

  “He thought I needed him. I did need him. But if I’d just tried to manage on my own, he’d still be alive.” Leonardo Parisi rubbed a tear from his face. “He seemed to think there was also some work he needed to do with regard to the Travis paintings and Shell. He wanted to be family for me and Billie. He thought we both needed him.” Here Parisi had looked over at Billie for a moment.

  “What was Garrett thinking about the Travis paintings?”

  “He wasn’t sure about them. He thought they might be fakes. He was training Shell. He said she had second sight, and he said he was meant to work with her. He said she was going to become more than an artist. She would become a ‘great knower of real art.’ He said she didn’t know it, but that she already knew more than he did.”

  “And how did he know this about her?”

  “He said she saw things in paintings that the artist had thought about but hadn’t put into them.”

  “How did he know that?”

  “Things she said about paintings. He said she talked about colors and objects that weren’t actually in the paintings, but she thought they were. She saw them. He said she was still finding her way and didn’t know she was seeing things that weren’t actually there.”

  “So, maybe he was supposed to be here?” Gonzalez had asked.

  “Maybe. He thought we were all connected, that we all find each other for reasons we can’t see. He didn’t believe our experiences were all accidental. He once told me he wouldn’t live to see sixty.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “A few years ago. I didn’t believe it.”

  “How did he know?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes people just know things.”

  Gonzalez took out the earbuds and went over to the office door. Wilson was working at his desk and of the other nine desks in the murder room, only two were occupied by detectives.

  “Wilson,” he said, “let’s go see Estelle Travis. Maybe we can talk to her cook.”

  “Juanita ‘something’?”

  “Right.”

  Chapter 39

  It was hot, and she woke in a sweat. She couldn’t tell how long she had slept, but judging from the heat, it wasn’t morning anymore. There was that aroma of turpentine and a sound like staccato drumming from somewhere overhead. She realized it must be a woodpecker before she opened her eyes, and the memory of her predicament came rushing back. She struggled against the tape, trying to loosen it.

  She was frightened now, too, but she wasn’t as panicked this time. For one thing, it wasn’t as dark. Light was filtering in through the cracks in the board siding of this place, and somewhere up high there must be an opening that was allowing light in, too. Far off was a sound like moving water, or maybe traffic. I’m not in town, she thought. Why? Why am I here?

  She fought the tape for a while, hoping if she worked it enough she could get one of her hands loose. If she did that, she was pretty sure she could undo the other tape and get out of this mess. She struggled, rocking the frame of the cot on the wood floor. It sounded hollow under her, and she worried the cot would turn over and she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  Jack had said she just needed to wait this out with him. Wait it out? Was there a time frame during which something had to happen and then she could go? It didn’t make sense. He had said he didn’t want to hurt her, but he was unfeeling enough to terrify and drug her, and she didn’t know if, at the end of his planned time period, he intended to kill her. She had heard that abductions tended to end badly. Rape and death. Or just death. Violent and painful death.

  Help me, Mom. She realized she always prayed to her deceased parents when she was in trouble. Why did she do that? Did she think they could help her? It was a reflexive thing. Carmen had told her that her parents were always close, always watching over her. Carmen even thought Dean’s mother watched over her.

  Thinking of Dean made tears fill her eyes. If I ever get out of this, Dean, I’m going to tell you what really happened. I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. You’re going to know I never betrayed you. You’re going to know I love you even if you don’t love me…even if you’ve found someone else, and I’ll love you forever, even if we can never be together again.

  She thought of everyone she cared about. Margie and Donald, Billie and Leonardo, Carmen and Jan, Rita, Sadie and Bitsy. She suddenly thought of Garrett. Help me, Garrett! Tell Dean where I am. Tell Dean and Sadie. Somehow, she knew that Dean would come after her if he knew she had been taken. Even if he didn’t love her, even if he was angry with her, he wouldn’t let Jack hurt her.

  She was coming out of the drug-induced fog she had been in, and things started seeming clearer. From the low angle of the cot, she could see the wood siding of the building going all the way from the wood planks of the floor up to about thirty feet at its peak. Ahead and to her right, where the wall angled sharply toward the floor, she could just see the door, its red handle and deadbolt looking strangely familiar. She knew where she was. This is the barn with the red handle in the door. She strained her neck to turn and see what was behind her, but she was extremely dizzy, and bound the way she was, she couldn’t turn a full 180 degrees anyway. Still, she didn’t need to turn to know where she was.

  From this direction she could also see the table where Jack had mixed something into her Coke a few hours earlier. She could see that the table was made from some sort of door set up on sawhorses. There was another door beyond it in the wall near the toilet room. Someone had built a partition in here. It wasn’t very tall, maybe eight feet. The turpentine smell must be coming from over that partition.

  She remembered the night before when she had been to the reading of Garrett’s will, how
Billie and Leo had fought, how the police had come to the house with the warrant. She remembered driving to the HEB, but she remembered nothing that happened after that.

  If I’m here, it has to be Estelle who’s behind this. I’m right behind her ranch. What did Jack have to do with Estelle? She was trying to put the puzzle together in her mind. Find me, Dean. Find me.

  An hour passed. She lay searching her memories for beautiful moments, silently telling everyone she loved them, thanking them for being in her life, feeling thankful to the universe for all the good she had known, asking to be saved, and realizing she was probably doomed.

  The sound of an engine startled her. She listened as a car door opened and closed again. Then she heard it all again. A car door opening and closing. He must have walked around to the other side of the car and gotten something. Either that, or he wasn’t alone. Then she heard the sound of steps as he trudged toward the barn. There was the familiar sound of keys clanging against each other, then hitting against the wood door as he turned one of them in the lock.

  He was still wearing his ski mask. In this light she could also see he was wearing an orange Texas Longhorns T-shirt and faded blue jeans. His tennis shoes were so white it occurred to her momentarily that he might be a nurse.

  “Awake again? You don’t sleep much, do you?” he asked.

  Shell didn’t answer.

  “I asked you a question,” he said. “It’s polite to respond.”

  He wasn’t in a pleasant mood, and he clearly wasn’t as worried or concerned about her as he had been before. He was changeable, moody.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Shell asked, her voice husky again. “I’m a good person. I can’t imagine how I’ve hurt you or anyone, really. When are you going to let me go?”

  “Another day. That’s all. You can manage this for one day. All you have to do is rest. It’s much harder on me. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” He put a cup on the table. She could see the colorful writing on the side. Big Gulp. She watched as he dumped some sort of powder into it before he stirred it with the straw. “I’m going to undo the tape again so you can use the toilet. Then you’re going to drink this and get back on the cot.”