The Murder Motif: An Austin, Texas Art Mystery (the Michelle Hodge Series Book 2)

by Roslyn Woods

  Gonzalez paused and looked at Novak for a minute before he asked, “Do you gamble, Mr. Novak?”

  “I dabble a bit. It’s all legal, in case you’re wanting to know.”

  “Do you gamble enough to put yourself in a bind now and then?”

  “I might. More homework for you, Sergeant. I’m sure the folks downtown can figure out where every last cent I spend goes with very little effort.”

  “Where were you between nine and noon on October fifteenth?”

  Again, Novak didn’t answer immediately. He looked steadily at the sergeant for ten seconds before he spoke.

  “I was at Zilker Park, flying my planes.”

  “Anybody with you?”

  “No. I was alone.”

  Chapter 37

  The three women painted for another half-hour before they decided to stop for lunch.

  “You wanna text Dean and tell him we’re going to have a sandwich?” Shell asked Margie.

  “You’re asking him to eat with us?” she asked with a sly smile.

  “I sorta asked him when we were in the backyard a little earlier. He offered to help, and I said we didn’t need him, but then I felt kinda like I’d rebuffed him or something, so I asked him to come give us a critique and have a sandwich.”

  “Good save!” said Margie.

  “Oh, stop. I’m just being—”

  “A nice person,” said Margie, and she gave her a wink.

  “Yeah,” said Shell, thinking that Margie was becoming really annoying.

  Carmen gave Shell a little smile, but didn’t say anything. “Miss Shell, I get the glasses of tea ready for you?”

  “For all of us. There will be four if Dean joins us.”

  “I do it,” she said.

  Margie was busy texting. Come see our painting. Best give us compliments if you want to eat.

  Shell was putting a plate of sandwiches and a bowl of corn chips and some onion dip on the dining room table. Dean was there in three minutes.

  “How’s it going?” he asked as he walked around the kitchen examining their handiwork. “By the way, I brought you a flashlight,” he said setting a miniature one on Shell’s kitchen counter. “Seems like I have half a dozen of these little ones in my kitchen drawer.”

  “Well, thanks,” said Shell. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “It’s a landlord thing. I think you should have a flashlight handy.” Then looking around the kitchen he said, “I actually love this color.”

  “Okay, you can eat!” said Margie, and the little dogs ran in from the living room. “Not you!” she said, leaning down to pet them.

  “I didn’t know you could paint too, Carmen!” he said as he followed the ladies into the dining room.

  “Oh, Mr. Dean, I am woman with many talent!”

  Dean looked at Shell. “You’ll soon learn she makes magnificent pan dulce.”

  Shell happened to love pastry, so it was nice to learn that Carmen was a good baker. “Better not tell me that!” Shell answered with a smile. “I’ll be having her bake for me instead of keeping my house clean and organized!”

  “For you, Miss Shell, I do both!” said Carmen.

  “Well count me in,” said Margie, passing the sandwich tray. “How do I get in on the pan dulce action?”

  “I teach you, Miss Margie. We have a baking party after we finish painting all the rooms.”

  “That sounds like a plan!” said Margie.

  “I notice you haven’t painted near the ceiling yet,” said Dean.

  “Uh, well, we were actually going to come ask to borrow your ladder,” said Shell.

  “I’ll bring it over. Do you need more than one?”

  “Well, two would be nice, but one will do the job in the kitchen.”

  “There’s actually an eight-foot ladder under the laundry room here,” said Dean.

  “Under the laundry room?”

  “Yeah. My mom kept her ladder under the back porch. Eventually she had the porch converted to a laundry room, but the storage is still under it. I can show you where the access is. We pretty much quit using the eight-foot ladder after I bought the six-foot. The ceilings here aren’t all that high, so we didn’t really need the old one. Besides, the six-foot is lighter. Carmen uses it when she does the light fixtures, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Mr. Dean. About once of the month. It’s light enough for me, but Mr. Dean always carry it for me anyway,” said Carmen, looking at Shell.

  “I really think the six-foot is all we need for now,” said Shell. “But I would like you to show me how to get to the other one in case we need it when we do the living room.”

  “Okay, but don’t hesitate to have me bring it in for you. Hey, these are good,” he said, taking another sandwich from the tray.

  “You poor thing,” said Shell. “You must not be getting enough to eat!”

  “They are good!” Margie insisted, taking another half herself. “Guess what? I brought cookies!”

  After they had eaten the sandwiches, Carmen insisted on cleaning up while Margie found a plate for the cookies.

  “How about I show you where that ladder is?” Dean asked Shell.

  “Sure,” she said following him to the back door.

  They went down the steps and around the side of the porch near a large honeysuckle bush. “It’s right here,” said Dean.

  The barn-red siding around the porch was the same color as the rest of the house and appeared to be completely seamless, so you would never know there was storage there. Near the base was a pull, almost invisible because of the leaves that had collected there, and Dean tugged on it. It was a little bit tough to open, but as it did Shell could see that the door was a perfect four foot square.

  “It’s gotten a little overgrown. You can’t even see the hinges because of this honeysuckle, but it’s actually a nice little storage area. After I put the shed in on my side about a year ago, I put all Mom’s tools over there. I left the ladder because it’s a little tall and I haven’t needed it. I can get Angel to cut this back so it will be easier to open, but there it is in there.”

  Inside the door was a clean area with a cement floor. Shell could just see the top of the ladder. It would be pretty easy to pull it from the side, but she wondered how much space was available under the porch. You certainly couldn’t stand up in there.

  “Does the storage go all the way from one side of the porch to the other?” she asked.

  “It does, but you might need a flashlight. It’s completely empty except for this ladder. My mom worried about spiders, but it’s closed up, so it stays pretty clean, and I have it sprayed once a year with a natural insecticide.”

  “Do you think it would be okay for me to store paint cans down here?”

  “I think it would be fine, but I won’t guarantee they won’t get any water damage if we have a big storm like the one we experienced the other night.”

  Shell’s eyes met Dean’s then. That had been such a sweet night, and he had held her in his arms and whispered in her ear not to give up on him. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t remind me of any sweetness between us.

  “Thanks,” she said, turning away and starting back toward the porch steps.

  Margie was standing at the top of the stairs. “Cookies!” she called.

  “You don’t have to twist my arm,” said Dean, smiling up at his sister.

  Chapter 38

  Once Dean had dropped the ladder by, Shell was able to paint the top edge of the walls. She did it by eye, no taping, and Carmen and Margie watched in awe.

  “It’s not that hard,” Shell insisted while the other women shook their heads.

  “Not for an artist!” said Margie.

  Soon the three women were able to take turns filling in the rest of the paint, and the first coat was done. The second coat was much quicker than the first. They were able to knock it out in a half hour.

  “Let’s let it dry and see if we need a third coat,” said Margie. “If we do, we can get
to it in a couple of hours.”

  “I love it, Miss Shell,” said Carmen, as she admired the new color. “Mrs. Lana would love it too. She would be very happy to have you living in her house.”

  “Thank you, Carmen! It feels good that you think that.”

  “Is true, Miss Shell. I have a feeling about things. Mrs. Lana is watching over you.”

  “Watching over me?”

  “Oh yes. She want you here.”

  “I hope so,” Shell answered quietly. “I’d love to think the departed watch over us. I sometimes feel my mom is with me, and sometimes I think I just want her to be with me.”

  “She is with you. I feel her too, Miss Shell. You are not alone.”

  Margie and Shell exchanged looks. Margie had said Shell would like Carmen, and even though she didn’t know what she thought about Carmen’s beliefs, she was right about the fact that Shell would like her. Margie knows people.

  “When you want me come back, Miss Shell?”

  “I don’t know. You have clients I’m sure. Are you booked Monday afternoon? Would that work for you?”

  “Oh, yes! I’m free after one! We do the living room!”

  “Okay, that will be great!” said Shell, and she and Margie both hugged Carmen goodbye as if they were old, dear friends.

  “Take care of Mr. Dean,” she told them as she walked down the front steps.

  I wish we could.

  The new furniture was delivered at three. Margie and Shell spent some time arranging it. The colors all complemented each other, and the style of the wood reproductions looked beautiful with the Craftsman home.

  “This place is starting to look like a photograph from American Bungalow!” said Margie.

  “I’m really liking it, but I have to admit I enjoy it a lot more when you’re here!” said Shell.

  “And I love helping you spend your money,” said her friend. “Now we just need the TV guy to come!”

  He was there at four, and he had the TV mounted above the fireplace in a little over two hours. He had to add an outlet so there would be no visible cords, but the extra work was certainly worth it. It looked great.

  “Now we can watch movies to our heart’s content!”

  “Not quite yet,” said Shell. “I’m afraid the cable people still have to come and do a little more work.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing, but we could go over to my house to watch movies,” suggested Margie.

  “Maybe we should.”

  “I just feel bad about Dean being all alone. We could ask him to come too,” said his sister.

  “If you want to, Margie.” But Shell was dreading a night of being on her guard. Even so, she didn’t want him to be alone if he was having a hard time with all his worries.

  Margie texted him. Want to come back to 16th Street and watch TV with us? You can bring Sadie.

  In a few minutes he replied, Sorry but I’m working on a new website. Probably working late on it. Sadie will keep me company. Have fun.

  Shell packed an overnight bag and a few things for Bitsy. Soon she was in the minivan and Margie was driving to the music of two yapping little dogs.

  “I just can’t stop thinking,” said Margie, “about all the stuff you told me about Amanda and how awful she was to poor Carmen.”

  “I was in shock when Carmen told me about it, too, but I never knew Amanda.”

  “She was materialistic, I know that, and I didn’t think she was a good person, but I didn’t know she was so bad. Carmen’s story makes it sound like she was pure evil.”

  “Do you think Dean has any idea that she was stealing Lana’s jewelry?” asked Shell.

  “I don’t know, but it’s hard to believe he would have turned a blind eye to that. I’m just wondering if we should tell him.”

  “What good would it do at this point? Carmen has had ample opportunity to tell him since the separation.”

  “But maybe she still feared Amanda would report her to the border patrol.”

  “She could have told him after Amanda’s death.”

  “But it’s only been a week and a half. And even if she’d had months, Carmen would do just about anything to keep from bringing any more sadness to my brother’s life.”

  “I think you’re probably right. She seems so kind, and she seems particularly concerned about Dean.”

  “I just feel sick about him sometimes. He’s so alone,” Margie said sadly. “The police should be down on Sixth Street right now! They should be watching that bar and the cars around it. They should be finding out where these people go and what they do. Something they do will make it clear that there’s something going on that’s criminal!”

  As Shell listened to Margie she got a crazy idea. “How weird do you think it would be if we did that?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Margie.

  “I mean, what if we go down and watch the bar and see what happens?”

  “Do you think we could?”

  “Why not? We don’t have the guys here telling us no.”

  Margie got a mischievous look on her face as she turned in on 16th Street. “Let’s drop the doggies off and get stocking knit caps. I don’t want anyone identifying us from the other night when we went in the bar.”

  “I doubt we’ll even get out of the car,” said Shell, laughing.

  “And I’ll get us some Dr. Pepper and chewing gum to keep us awake,” she said, ignoring Shell’s comment.

  “And let’s get a couple of windbreakers or sweaters,” Shell said. “You never know if it will get chilly.”

  They put Bitsy’s little bed next to Tabitha’s and opened the doggie door to the back yard. Margie set out two little bowls of dog food, and Shell told them they would be back after a while.

  Chapter 39

  It was 9:30 when they parked the car on Comal, just north of 6th Street. Being a Friday, it was probably the night of the week with the highest traffic, and people were walking around on 6th, visiting and laughing. From their vantage point, Shell and Margie could see where the alley behind Danny’s Place came out.

  “How do we know Kojak will come out on the west side of the alley?” asked Margie.

  “We don’t,” said Shell. “He could come out on the east side, but when I drove through the alley yesterday, it seemed more natural that he’d head out toward I-35 than away from it.”

  “Okay, makes sense. You have any idea how long we’ll be sitting here?”

  “No,” Shell answered, “but I sort of have a feeling about tonight. I think something’s happening.”

  “Carmen is rubbing off on you.”

  “Maybe. I also think that since there’s been so much activity with people going in and out of the houses on Barrow, they’re up to something, and time may be running out for what they’re trying to do.”

  “What do you think they could be up to?” asked Margie.

  “Last night I was looking online. I learned that criminals who own bars lean toward certain crimes. Money laundering is a possibility.”

  “You’ve been researching!”

  “Not really, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s this vague thing that bothers me all the time like an itch I can’t scratch.”

  “How do they do it?” Margie wanted to know.

  “Money laundering? While they take in the day’s receipts for sales, they feed in fake purchases to their computer. Then they have an excuse to deposit lots of extra cash when they do their bank deposits, and the feds don’t know it’s money that’s been obtained through some illegal means like drug sales.”

  “Danny’s Place has so much traffic, it’s kind of a natural for something like that.”

  “I think so too, but sometimes these places get caught because they don’t buy enough food and liquor to justify the amount of money they take in.”

  “Seems like they could just buy more than they need.”

  “From what I read, that’s exactly what some of them do. It’s hard to catch them at it without sending agents ou
t to really watch them, check their purchases, see where they warehouse their inventory.”

  “And do you think anyone’s doing that?”

  “You mean at Danny’s Place?”

  “Of course,” said Margie.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any way of knowing what kind of money they take in or what the parameters are for the government when they decide on the places they’ll investigate.”

  “There’s gotta be somebody who knows.”

  “I bet Dean could research it and figure it out faster than I could. It’s not exactly my kind of thing, but he’s a business person and gets the money-making thing,” said Shell.

  “Being an artist makes it hard to figure things out?”

  “You tell me. You’re a chef. Do you think it does?”

  “Yeah. I have different strengths from Dean, that’s for sure.”

  “I wish I had a sibling to compare myself to.”

  “You’ve got me, sweetie, and we’re a lot alike.”

  They talked for another forty minutes and never saw any movement from the alley. Finally, Shell said, “Maybe I should walk into the alley and see if the Mercedes is still there. Maybe he’s already left in the other direction.”

  “I don’t think you should, Shell. I mean, yes, there are people milling around on Sixth Street, but there aren’t any people in the alley you want to run into. It’s too dark. I don’t like it.”

  “We could drive through.”

  “I don’t like that either.”

  Just then they saw it. It was the Mercedes pulling out of the alley and turning north toward 7th Street. Margie started the car. “Here we go,” she said.

  “Just stay back enough that we aren’t noticed,” said Shell.

  “I just don’t want to lose him.”

  “One or two cars between us should be okay.” They followed the Mercedes west toward I-35 and turned south once they got to the frontage road.

  “Where do you think we’re going?” asked Margie.

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  There weren’t a lot of cars on the interstate this close to eleven p.m., so it was easy to follow the Mercedes. The Austin skyline shone like sparkling gems at this hour. Shell could see the Frost building towering gloriously above most of the others, reminding her for the hundredth time of the Chrysler Building in New York. She imagined all the hundreds of thousands of people who lived in this town, all living their lives beside each other, working and playing. It was a little depressing to realize that some of them were committing crimes.