Assignment Austin

by Lucey Phillips

  After the nightmares Colin and I survived in Denver and Las Vegas, I’d started this assignment determined to keep things light—clear of anything that looked like a crime story or controversy.

  But so far, that didn’t seem to be happening. Colin must have been thinking the same thing.

  “Maybe the cops were wrong. Maybe that guy just fell and hit his head,” he said.

  I glanced at him sideways. “That was a lot of blood though.”

  “It doesn’t take a huge injury to make a head bleed,” he said. “I’ve seen a lot worse than that.”

  I believed him. Colin is an award-winning photojournalist. He’s seen all kinds of accidents, crimes, and disasters.

  “Anyway, I’m just going to go ahead and tell Lance about today. Last time I tried to keep stuff quiet about McKenna, and it stressed me out. Then he found out anyway.”

  “Do you want me to do it?” Colin asked.

  Colin didn’t report directly to Lance, my editor at Alt News America. Usually, if something was going on, he spoke with the photography editor, who reported to Lance.

  “Nah. I better do it myself. He seems kind of worried about my safety or whatever, so I should probably be the one who calls.”

  I looked over at Colin. He kept his gaze on the road but nodded in understanding.

  “Well, I’m here to help you,” he said.

  Then Colin reached his arm toward mine, found my hand resting on my leg, and gave a gentle squeeze.

  I looked down at our hands touching.

  “I mean it. Not just as work friends, okay?”

  In my periphery, I could see him glance my way, but I kept my gaze down until Colin looked back at the road.

  He moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

  “Okay,” I said.

  The word came out so quietly that I wasn’t sure Colin heard me. So I turned toward him and added, “Thank you.”

  We parked in the gravel lot beside the Bluestem Inn. It was a historic Hill Country farmhouse with butter-yellow siding and a two-story wraparound porch.

  Colin threw his giant duffel bag over his shoulder and carried my suitcase. Somewhere between the Rockies and the desert, my argument that I should carry my own bag had lost momentum. So I gave up.

  “You must be Mr. Lovejoy!” a bearded, professorial-looking man greeted Colin when we walked in.

  He looked my way with the brightest, most mischievous grin I’d ever seen him wear.

  “Sure. You can call me Mr. Lovejoy,” he said with a shrug.

  “He’s Colin Bloom,” I said with a giggle. “I’m Jae Lovejoy. And we need separate rooms.”

  The man squinted at the laptop screen in front of him. Then raised an index finger.

  “Oh my! My mistake. I’m so sorry, it’s not very often that we get corporate guests. We see couples, mostly.”

  “No problem,” Colin said.

  The man introduced himself as Kenneth. He explained that, although we’d both reserved garden view rooms in the main building, the inn was overbooked and one of us could have a free upgrade to a “chalet,” which was a guest cottage “off the south lawn.”

  “You take the chalet,” I said to Colin. “I can stay here.”

  I was starting to feel like I was perpetually getting princess treatment while he was stuck in my shadow.

  He shook his head and smiled mischievously—as if he knew how much “chalet” accommodations were not my style.

  Kenneth gave Colin his key and directions to his room. Then he picked up my suitcase and led me toward a side hallway.

  Before I followed Kenneth down the hallway, I looked back at Colin, who was now halfway up the staircase.

  He gave me a sarcastic smile and a goofy thumbs-up. I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing.

  Colin had a penchant for teasing? This was new.

  I followed Kenneth through a hallway with numbered doors, and then outside. We walked down a pea gravel path that wound around a grouping of cypress trees.

  The chalet was on the other side of the trees. With its red roof and shutters, it looked like a storybook cottage.

  A velvety gray cat mewed at Kenneth when we stepped onto the tiny front porch.

  “This is Seymour. He likes the shade and quiet over here, but he won’t bother you.”

  “Okay,” I said as I knelt and reached a hand out to the cat.

  He stepped toward me, sliding his head under my fingertips. There was a faint splashing sound coming from an embankment on one side of the cottage.

  “What’s over there?”

  Kenneth had unlocked my door and set my suitcase inside. “There’s a stream down in that little ravine. A spring empties into it right down there.”

  He stepped off the porch and pointed toward some brush.

  “Don’t worry, though. It never floods,” he said.

  I shivered. After my adventures at Currents Resort, I had no desire to be near water ever again.

  “Just dial zero if you need anything,” Kenneth said before telling me goodbye and walking back down the gravel path. Seymour trotted after him.

  I went inside. There was a tiny kitchen to my left, a sitting area with a wall-mounted TV by the large front window to my right, a day bed in one back corner, and a queen-sized bed in another back corner. The door to the bathroom was on the wall to the right.

  It was cozy. Colorful quilts were on both beds and draped over the back of the slip-covered couch. The windows were dressed with faded flowered curtains, while board games were stacked on a lower shelf of the coffee table.

  I set my suitcase on the day bed and took out my phone.

  I dialed Lance’s office number while I wandered around the cottage. I opened and closed cabinet doors then began shuffling through a basket of magazines while I waited for him to answer.

  “How’s Austin?” Lance asked me after we’d said hello. “Staying out of trouble?” He sounded like he was smiling.

  “Um—”

  “What happened?” Lance asked. I could almost hear his smile dissolve.

  I told him about Harris Myer and how I’d spent the afternoon with the team in limbo after we found the body.

  “So this guy isn’t really associated with the team you’re talking about? The lady you’re interviewing?”

  “Not directly,” I said. I exhaled with relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be a deal-breaker for my story.

  “Sounds like a small-time thing, right? This isn’t going to make the national press or anything.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. I mostly believed that. But I also knew that things had a weird way of escalating around me lately.

  “Well, better just stay the course then,” Lance said. “But I want you to line up another story—a backup feature in case this thing turns into a big controversy.”

  “No problem,” I said. “You could write a book on this city. There’s a lot going on.”

  “Perfect,” Lance said. “I’ll talk to you later. Be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  | Three

  Finding Kara’s house was easy. It was the only one on her block where the cars parked in front were all adorned with “Roller Girl,” “Capital City Wreckers,” and “Texas Wheels” decals.

  Kara, a Ph.D. student in anthropology, lived in an ivory-and-beige craftsman home. The lawn was sparse, but lush ferns hung from the porch roof between tapered columns.

  As Colin and I walked up the steps onto the porch, men and women holding plastic cups smiled or nodded hello to us. We found Kara in the kitchen, arranging tamales on a platter. A man with a pompadour haircut stood beside her, stirring a quinoa and kale salad.

  “Hey! I’m glad you found us.” She smiled brightly and introduced the man beside her as her boyfriend Neil.

  When he shook my hand, I noticed dark circles under his eyes.

  “Come on out back. You can get a plate of food,” Kara said as she carried the platter through the back screen door. “Drinks are
over there.” She nodded toward a giant cooler of beer bottles sitting in front of a folding table that held wine, liquor, and soda bottles in every color of the rainbow.

  Colin smiled at me and shrugged. He picked out a beer bottle with a picture of a monkey juggling bowling pins on the label. I poured a cup of seltzer water over ice.

  I sat down at a picnic table beside Mia. Her dark hair was in a pixie cut with long bangs, the ends of which were dyed purple.

  “You’re kind of lucky you got kicked out today,” she said. “I was jealous.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded and took a bite of grilled corn on the cob. “We were stuck there another hour,” Mia said around her food. “It was so hot and that cop just got meaner as time went on.”

  “Did they arrest anyone?”

  Her eyes were wide as she shook her head. “No,” she said softly.

  I nodded and tried to direct my thoughts back to the team and my Assignment Austin feature. I wasn’t a news reporter anymore—even Lance wanted me to leave this one alone.

  “When, like, everyone hates the guy, I don’t know how they’re going to figure out who did it,” Mia added.

  Kara, Neil, and Colin joined us at the picnic table. Colin’s plate was piled high with food.

  Kara slid a plate with beans, corn, and tamales toward me. “Eat,” she commanded.

  I did. It was all amazing.

  “I never, ever, get homemade food,” I said.

  “Yeah. Thanks,” Colin added.

  Neil set his phone on the table in front of Kara. “Looks like you guys are famous,” he said.

  Kara used her hand to shade the screen while she read out loud. “‘The body of fifty-three-year-old Harris Myer was discovered today at the River Lane Rec Center,’” Kara read.

  “Oh here we are, ‘The center is used as a practice facility for the Central Texas Roller Derby Association, an organization Myer was involved with as a team sponsor.’”

  When Kara added, “They say there’s going to be a press conference tonight,” Colin and I looked at each other. But when my eyes met his, I looked down at my plate quickly.

  “They don’t even mention the Wreckers?” Mia asked.

  “That’s okay,” Kara said. “We don’t want that kind of publicity anyway. This says there haven’t been any arrests. Police are questioning his employees at SoCo Athletics.”

  “That’s the gym he owns,” Mia explained. “Well, owned, I guess. All the girls on the Violent Crown get to work out there for free. That’s why they have ‘SoCo Athletics’ plastered all over their jerseys and helmets and stuff.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” Kara said bitterly. “They’re wearing so many ads they look like Nascar drivers.”

  Mia snorted a laugh.

  “What’s SoCo?” Colin asked.

  “It’s the name of the neighborhood where the gym is—South Congress,” Neil said. “You should check it out for your article.”

  “Okay,” I said. Though I wasn’t sure I would. South Congress already seemed to be well covered in most of the Austin tourism articles and blogs.

  “Okay, meeting time,” Kara said while she crumpled up her paper plate and threw it into a trash can.

  She opened the back door and yelled inside, “We’re having a meeting.”

  Her voice probably carried all the way through the house and out to the front porch where at least a dozen people—players and their significant others—lingered.

  As people filed from the kitchen out to the back yard, Kara climbed up onto the back porch railing, keeping one hand on a pillar for balance.

  Kara made some announcements about practices, introduced two new players, and gave a short pep talk about their upcoming bout against Travis County. She also went over plans for the Second Annual Trash Bash—an all-day four-team tournament that raised money for recycling programs in Austin.

  Next, Shannon joined Kara on the porch railing. She’s the team treasurer. She gave an update on the team’s three-digit bank balance and on concession sales.

  “We’re still talking to Joey’s brother about maybe bringing his food truck to some bouts and sharing the proceeds as a fundraiser. We’ll need volunteers to work in the truck,” Shannon said.

  Nearly everyone in the back yard raised their hands.

  She and Kara smiled at each other.

  “Great,” Kara said. “I guess we’re done. Anyone have any issues?”

  Someone turned up the volume on the music that had been playing quietly in the background.

  “Okay,” Kara said. She cupped her hands around her mouth for a makeshift megaphone.

  “Meeting adjourned!” she shouted.

  That announcement was followed by some applause and cheers. The music became even louder.

  Kara looked at her wrist, then at Neil. “Fifteen minutes. Not bad,” she said with a smile.

  “You’re a born leader, babe,” Neil said.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being ironic.

  I was talking to Mia about her work as a tattoo artist when a bearded man with a pale face and serious expression approached our table.

  “Hey, Neil? Man, there are some cops out front asking for you. We didn’t know if you’re here.”

  Neil stood. His brow was furrowed. “Really? It’s okay. I’ll talk to them.”

  Kara and I followed the two men through the house and onto the front porch. Two police officers stood on the sidewalk in front of the house.

  I stayed on the porch, watching while Neil and Kara approached the officers. It was dusk now and street lights were turning on. The weather was still hot, but less aggressively so.

  Neil reached out and shook both of the officers’ hands. One of the officers—a stocky man—seemed to do all of the talking.

  While the police spoke, Neil nodded along calmly, but Kara looked like she was losing her cool.

  She looked back and forth between her boyfriend and the officer, like she was watching a ping pong match.

  Finally, Neil nodded and patted his pockets. He took his keys out of a front pocket, glanced at them, then slid them back into his pocket.

  Kara stepped between Neil and the officers, both hands gesturing emphatically while she spoke.

  The party music wasn’t as loud as it had been out back, and the buzz of conversation was reduced to a few whispered speculations. Still, I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Only partial murmurs were audible.

  Then Kara grabbed Neil’s arm. He turned and hugged her, kissing her on the top of her head.

  As soon as Neil stepped away, one police officer opened the back door to the cruiser while the other positioned himself between Neil and Kara. Neil climbed into the car.

  Before the cruiser drove away, two of Kara’s teammates, Mia and Shannon, were standing on either side of her while she watched the police take her boyfriend.

  When the car was gone, the women put their arms around Kara and walked with her back into the house. Kara kept her head up and wiped her eyes while she walked.

  I followed them into the kitchen. Mia poured Kara a glass of water while Shannon handed her a napkin. The three sat at the table while I leaned against the counter, not quite sure what to do with myself.

  “Here, Jae, you can come in,” Kara said, scooting a chair out for me. “You might know what to do.”

  She took a shaky breath and tried to tell us what happened. Her explanation was a little disjointed though—as if she hadn’t completely made sense of it yet.

  “They said he’s not under arrest, the detectives just want to question him about Harris,” she said. “I didn’t want him to go. I think he should get a lawyer first if he’s going to be questioned. I kept asking them if he’s a suspect, but they wouldn’t answer me.”

  Kara wiped her eyes again and took another deep breath.

  “You know Neil,” Mia said. There was just an edge of rasp to her voice, as if she’d been a smoker at one time. Or maybe she grew up in a home with smokers. “You know he
doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Harris today. It’s crazy.”

  “I know.” Kara nodded and pressed her palms against the red Formica tabletop. “But everyone knows he and Harris hated each other. And there was that one time Neil told Harris he wanted to kick his ass.”

  “Big deal,” Shannon said. “Most of Austin wants to kick Harris’ ass.”

  “And he was just defending us. Harris was the one who was acting aggressive,” Mia added.

  Kara explained, “Neil was out at a bar one night watching football. Harris was at the next table running his mouth about our team. He called us a bunch of— Well, you know. It was rude.”

  Kara shook her head and looked down at her hands while she continued. “From what I understand, they were screaming at each other. Neil did threaten Harris, but then Neil’s friends drug him out of there before anything else happened.”

  Shannon asked Kara, “What was Neil doing this afternoon? He probably has a good alibi.”

  Kara shrugged. “He’s on midnights. So he was home alone, sleeping.”

  Shannon and Mia looked at each other. Home alone isn’t much of an alibi.

  “Neil works at the hospital. He’s a phlebotomist,” Kara explained to me.

  “It’s really early in the investigation,” I told her, trying to sound reassuring. “The police are going to be talking to everyone. It’s just a fishing expedition at this point. Besides, if they actually had something, they’d make an arrest.”

  “Yeah, Kara. Don’t worry. Neil will probably be home in a couple hours.”

  Kara nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”

  “Let’s go back outside,” Shannon said, pulling Kara’s chair away from the table. “Daniella brought her guitar. Maybe we can get her to sing for us.”

  “Don’t you think I should go to the police department?” Kara asked.

  “Later,” Shannon said. “I’ll go with you.”

  The three women filed out the door. I hung back in the kitchen for a minute to check my phone. The text alert had just vibrated.

  Colin had sent me a screen shot from his phone. One of the local network stations had messaged, “Murder suspected in local business owner’s death. See live coverage of the press conference tonight at nine.”