by Roslyn Woods
“Mind? No, I don’t really mind.”
It was happening again. She felt it all the way downtown to Bess Bistro on Old Pecan Street. It was something about Dean being close to her. Every move he made was creating electricity in the air, and Shell tried to keep her mind off him, but it was difficult. He made small talk on the way, pointing out businesses where he had clients, telling her this and that about the street and its history.
“I think Margie told me you grew up here?” she asked.
“I did, but it seems like a long time ago. I spent a lot of time down here when I was young.”
“It must feel pretty homey to you, then.”
“Not lately.”
“I imagine not. Does all this trouble make you want to leave Austin?”
“No. I don’t want to live very far from Margie, so no. I guess I wouldn’t mind having a place to go during the hot summers. Maybe the coast of California.”
“Oh, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I love Monterey and Pacific Grove.”
“Me too,” he said, looking over at her. “And wine country is close by. Oh good, here’s a parking place.”
“I’m not sure I could even get my Corolla in that space!” She was actually doubtful he could get the car parked there.
“You doubt me. Watch and learn!” he said laughing, and he easily maneuvered into the spot.
“I stand corrected,” said Shell, opening her door. Maintain some distance.
It was still chilly when they walked from the car to the stairs that led down the steps that went into Bess Bistro. The whole restaurant was in a basement under the old, Stratford Arms building on the corner of San Antonio and Old Pecan. Shell wondered if they might have a “Sandra sighting” as people called it. Sandra Bullock had opened the restaurant a few years earlier, and she sometimes frequented the place. The warmth inside was welcoming, and Margie and Donald were already seated and waved for them to join them.
“Isn’t this nice?” asked Margie as they sat down at a smallish, square table. The place had muted light with a candle in the center of each table. It had the feel of a wine cellar with its brick walls and lovely, pewter bar, and Shell thought she remembered hearing that it was actually an old bank vault.
“I like it,” said Dean, pulling the chair beside his for Shell. “How was your trip, Donald?”
“Fine,” he answered. “I’m just glad to be back. One way or another, you and I are going to have to keep these women from doing detective work all over Austin.”
“Fat chance,” said Dean, taking his seat. “I’ve tried.”
“The solution seems to be to never let them out of our sight,” said Donald, bitterly.
“Hey!” said Margie. “You’re talking as if we’re not right here.”
“You’ve earned it,” he said seriously, and Shell could tell they weren’t quite through arguing about Margie’s storytelling on Friday night.
“We didn’t want you to worry, Donald,” said Shell, trying to give a little support to her best friend.
“That’s no excuse for lying to your husband,” he said quietly, and she realized it was their issue and she would have to stay out of it.
Just then the waiter came up to the table and started telling them about the offerings of the evening. Shell used the moment to look around the room. It was a large space with many tables and quite crowded. There was a hum of chatter, the herby aroma of delicious food, and she could see there was a good wine selection.
“Let’s order a bottle first,” said Dean, gracefully easing the tense moment. Looking at Shell he asked, “What do you think? Red or white?”
“I almost always lean toward red, but for some reason I’m thinking white. How about you?”
“Let’s look at the list,” he said as he leaned closer to her with the wine menu. “How about this Riesling to go with the artichoke appetizer?” He was addressing everyone, and Shell nodded but didn’t speak.
“That sounds good to me,” said Donald, trying to join back in.
“Margie?” asked Dean.
“Yes. I love Riesling,” she said, but her tone was subdued.
“And we can order more once we’ve decided about the food,” said Dean, turning to the waiter and pointing to the Strub. Then leaning across the table toward Donald, he said, “Here’s the thing. I was mad on Friday night. I’m over it because of what you said to me, Donald.”
“What did I say?” he asked.
“You said something like, ‘Like it or not we’re your family and we want you in our lives.’ As foolhardy as their escapade may have been, I know they were trying to help me from the goodness of their hearts. I wouldn’t have let them go, and neither would you. So they weren’t particularly honest with us. I know they meant well. Shell asked me if I’d put myself in danger to help Margie. I know I would, and I might even lie if I thought it would keep someone from trying to stop me.”
So he did understand. How can I remember to keep distance between us when you’re like this? Margie had tears in her eyes, and Donald looked at her and put his arm around her.
“Okay. I forgive you, but no more lies, and no more hiding stuff. None. Zip. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said. “I just wanted to help Dean so much…” Her voice trailed off a little, and Donald leaned closer and kissed her cheek.
“Just keep me in the loop from now on. I’m your partner, remember?”
“Oh good, here’s the wine,” said Dean, and the waiter opened it and had him test it. “It’s fine,” he said, and the waiter poured glasses for each of them.
The relief of the difficulty between Donald and Margie being eased put them all in a good mood. They enjoyed the Riesling, ordered more wine, and ate and enjoyed themselves.
“How about we go listen to some music?” Donald asked when they had all declined to order dessert.
“Let’s do!” said Margie, her happy self again. “We’ll meet you there!”
“I’m ready,” said Dean. “Just let me get the check.” Donald was against this but gave in when Dean argued it would give him a chance to ask about the website at the desk. Shell knew this was a ploy to get Donald to allow him to pay for their meal, and she appreciated his generosity. Margie and Donald were trying to get a business off the ground right now, and Dean had an established and successful enterprise.
Donald was already helping Margie put her jacket on over the elegant little black and purple dress, and Shell was gathering up her purse and shawl.
“Well, hello there,” said an unfamiliar masculine voice. They all looked up to see a tallish man with thinning, black hair. On his arm was an attractive brunette.
“Gabe!” said Dean. “Hello, Linda. You remember my sister Margie and her husband, Donald.”
“Yes, hello,” they said, nodding and smiling in unison.
“And this is my friend, Shell,” he added, lightly touching her elbow. He hadn’t said, ‘This is Margie’s friend, Shell.’ He had said my friend. Why do you have to be so damn charming, Dean?
The men shook hands and the women smiled and nodded.
“We’re just off to listen to some music over at Saxon Pub,” Dean added.
“Well, I’d like to talk to you for a minute before you go, if I could,” said Gabe, looking directly at Dean.
“We’ll catch you over there,” said Margie. “It was nice seeing you again,” she added as she and Donald headed for the door.
“And I need to freshen my lipstick,” said Shell, seeing the serious look on Gabe’s face. What did he want to tell Dean? She couldn’t help but wonder, and she felt a little in the way.
“You can talk in front of Shell,” said Dean. More charm. It was nice of him to say that, but she knew it would be awkward to stay and listen to whatever Dean’s friend had to say to him.
“It’s okay,” said Shell. “I’ll just be a few minutes,” and she turned toward the restrooms.
“I think I’ll follow you, if you don’t mind,” said Linda to Shell, with a frie
ndly expression on her face. “We can meet you guys in the lobby,” she said over her shoulder.
“Of course,” said Shell, wondering why she recognized Linda.
“You probably don’t know who I am,” she said, as they arrived in front of the ladies’ room mirror. “I hope this isn’t too awkward, but I was the maid of honor at Dean’s wedding, and I worked with Dean at Dell.”
“Oh yes,” said Shell. “I remember you from the wedding pictures.”
“Oh, that’s a relief!” said Linda. “I was afraid the wedding and Amanda were all hush-hush. It’s tricky when a new relationship starts and things are so strange.”
“Yes,” said Shell, “but we’re really just friends. Dean’s sister and I went to school together, and we’re just trying to distract him from his troubles tonight. I’ve just moved here from Dallas, actually.”
“Well, I think you’ll like it better here,” said Linda. “And I imagine it’s really good for Dean to spend some time showing you around.”
“I hope so. He’s become a friend,” said Shell.
“I feel bad for him,” said Linda. “Gabe needs to tell him something, and I didn’t want to thwart the conversation.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” said Shell, feeling a little unsure of what to say as she found her lipstick. “Do you think they need a lot of time?”
“No, it shouldn’t take long,” she said. “Gabe and I both feel bad about everything. We’ve been growing close over the past year, and it was Amanda’s little social group that brought us together. It’s just we’re both kind of mind-your-own-business types. We should have talked about everything with Dean as soon as we heard about the murder.” She had a sad sound in her voice.
“There’s no time like the present,” Shell offered.
“I just hope we’re not too late. The police have been asking lots of questions that make us feel they’re leaning toward Dean as the…the…”
“Margie and I are worried about it too,” said Shell.
“The thing is, Amanda’s brother was involved with some pretty strange people. I just don’t know what they’re capable of, and I really don’t think Dean should suffer because of Amanda’s personality issues and bad judgment.”
“She was your friend,” said Shell, confused as she closed the lipstick tube and put it back in her purse.
“But we weren’t at all alike. She didn’t have any close friends. She arranged our social gatherings, and I went along with it because, well because I was falling in love with Gabe and I was waiting till he knew he loved me, too. He didn’t get it for a while, and well, anyway, I liked her okay,” she said, embarrassed. “It’s just that we were so different, you see, and I’m just finished with the whole staying out late and partying routine. It’s not the kind of life I want.”
“I think I understand,” said Shell.
“Maybe they’ve had enough time,” Linda suggested as she put her lipstick away. “We can probably go back now, but listen. Here’s my card in case you ever want to get coffee or something. I know what it’s like being new in town.”
“Well, thanks,” said Shell. “I probably have a card too,” she said digging in her purse for a few seconds. As she handed her card to Linda she said, “Most of this information is wrong, but the cell hasn’t changed.”
“You’re an artist?” Linda asked, looking at the card.
“Yes. I hope to get back to it one of these days.”
“How interesting! I’d love to see your work.”
“Oh gee, you’d have to go to Dallas to do that. I haven’t joined an Austin gallery yet.”
“Well I hope you do soon, and I really would like to meet for coffee sometime.”
“Thanks. I’d like that, too. And thanks for talking to me about…this trouble. I don’t want anything to hurt Dean.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” Linda said as she put the card in her purse.
Chapter 49
The drive from the restaurant took only about fifteen minutes, and Dean didn’t start talking about his conversation with Gabe. Instead, he seemed pensive for the first few minutes of the drive.
“Is everything okay?” Shell finally asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Listen,” he said, “I’m ashamed of all this in front of you, but I guess you should know. Gabe just confirmed my suspicion that Amanda was having an affair. The surprise is that the guy was Ray.”
“The guy we saw at the bar.”
“Yeah. My best man. I have to admit, in the past few days I’d begun to think of it as a possibility.”
“What made you guess?”
“After Margie noticed him at the bar I started thinking of the conversations I’d had with him lately. He asked about Amanda too much. I think he must have been trying to make it sound as if he didn’t know anything about her. That, and I just started having a feeling.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. She quit having the ability to hurt me very early, and Ray has been acting like he’s a friend, but I haven’t felt friendly toward him for a while.”
Shell nodded but didn’t speak. Then Dean added, “Gabe thinks it’s possible someone Danny knew killed Amanda. He also thinks it’s possible it was Danny himself. I’m pretty confused about it, but at least Gabe seems to be in my corner.”
“It’s so hard to imagine a brother killing his sister.”
“But I guess not everyone feels about his sister like I do about Margie.”
“Do you think he could have done it?”
“Not really, but I don’t know. The two of them are a mystery of damage and greed. They were certainly takers.”
They were crossing the river on South Lamar, and the traffic was a little thick. Shell noticed the lights on the water and thought about the drive to the river that she and Margie had made two nights earlier.
“You say ‘were’ as if you don’t think Danny is alive.”
Dean paused before he continued. “I guess I think it’s too strange the way he disappeared,” he said. “I’ve tried every day to call him, email him. I’ve called the bar five or six times. You even tried at the bar. I know Gonzalez has tried. It doesn’t make sense, and I just have this feeling.”
“Kojak’s trip to the river?”
“It’s the first thing I thought of.”
“Me, too.”
“Anyway, it’s all guesswork, isn’t it? And then there’s the theory that Danny shot her and he’s running. I suppose that’s possible, too. Or maybe he did it by accident and took off. I’ve considered that.”
“Yes, and you’re telling me that Gabe thinks someone connected to Danny could have done it. It’s not just Margie thinking the people around him were sort of criminal. And Linda seems to agree with Gabe. She seemed genuinely worried about you.”
“She did?” he asked, surprised. “I didn’t ever know her very well, but she seemed nice. Turns out I’m not a very good judge of character, though.”
“Maybe you’re getting better at it,” she said, remembering what he had said to Donald at dinner.
He parked in front of a weathered building with a tin roof and what looked like unpainted bat and board siding. The courtyard was wrapped in slabs of cedar, and the general appearance of the place was rustic, even shabby. The car sat under a giant man in a suit of armor that signaled passers-by that this was the historic music venue known as The Saxon Pub.
Dean sat there for a minute staring out the windshield at the crowded parking lot without speaking. Then, without preparing her, he took a deep breath and said, “Before we go in I need to tell you—I want to tell you—that I was wrong when I said I’d made a mistake in renting the house to you. I’m sorry, Shell.” He looked at the steering wheel and gripped it briefly. “It’s true I wanted to protect you from whoever had been going in and out there, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t go in when you were at home. I was upset about something else, and I…overreacted.” His jaw clenched for a moment, but he didn’t look at her. “I was
jealous. I was jealous of your ex. I thought you were considering going back to Dallas to…be with him.”
Then, as if he couldn’t face whatever her response might be, he opened the door and got out of the car. Shell’s head was spinning a little, but she picked up her purse and got out, too, just as he came around to her door. He stopped and looked at her for a few seconds, just waiting as they stood in the cold while the cars in the street whizzed by only a few yards from where they stood.
“I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you,” she said, shivering a little as she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. “I knew at least part of sending me away was an attempt to protect me. I wasn’t considering going back to him. I don’t…care for him.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. Finally he said, “It was my fault, Shell. Everything is my fault. Let’s get out of this cold. You’re freezing.”
He put his arm around her as they walked into the pub, but she guessed it was only because he was worried about the chill. He released her the moment they got inside.
Let’s get out of this cold? Was that the end of the conversation? At least she liked jealousy as an excuse for the way he had treated her the night he sent her to Margie’s. It was the only excuse that could help her to understand his behavior without feeling he simply disliked her, and he wasn’t really acting like he disliked her tonight. She wondered if he was still processing what she had said about her feelings for Brad and if his revelation only told how he had felt then, a week earlier. Maybe he just wanted to clear the air. Yet the revelation had seemed to cost him something.
The pub was dark and crowded, and it had the gritty feel of the parking lot, but the music was clearly coming from a very good, rocking-blues band. They found Margie and Donald seated at a dark table in the back of the seating area beside the two empty chairs they had saved. Even from the back there was a good view of the raised stage, and the band was in full swing. Dean pulled the chair next to Margie for Shell, and he took the one next to hers. Margie and Donald were clearly enjoying the show already.
In a minute Dean leaned close to Shell and asked, “Can I get you a beer?”