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

by Roslyn Woods

  “It was just as you said.”

  “Jealousy! I knew it!” As unhappy as Margie was about the current state of affairs in Dean’s life, this little bit of news made her smile. She plopped the plates onto the table and sat down across from Shell. “I thought when he talked Donald into forgiving me that you couldn’t resist him much longer. Using your words about danger and everything! You didn’t resist him, did you?”

  “No.”

  “So he stayed over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh! This is really good. I’m glad.”

  Shell had to smile. It was so sweet that Margie wanted her to be with her brother. “Don’t read too much into it, Margie. I don’t really know what’s happening with us. We were together one night.”

  “He’s not the kind of person to stay with you without really caring.”

  “But, you shouldn’t think it’s a permanent thing. I mean, who knows? He’s under a lot of pressure. Maybe he just needed to be close to someone.”

  “I’m not buying it. He cares about you.”

  “There were no big declarations.”

  “You mean, he didn’t use the L word?”

  “No. He said some other sweet things, though.”

  “Like?”

  “Jesus, Margie! I haven’t even processed it myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just happy you two finally sort of admitted you care for each other. Donald and I were wondering when it was going to happen.”

  “Unfortunately, it happened just before he was arrested and taken away,” she said with a lump forming in her throat.

  “Better that it happened then than not at all. Your relationship will help him keep going.”

  “I hope it helps him and doesn’t make things worse.”

  “It won’t. Now we’ve just got to find a way to get him out of that hellhole downtown.”

  Just then they heard a thump on the front door.

  “What’s that?” asked Shell.

  “It’s the newspaper. It didn’t come this morning so I called them for a late delivery.” She was walking to the door as she spoke. She opened it and picked up the paper.

  “Just one thing, Shell. You do love him, don’t you?”

  “That’s the only question I know the answer to,” she answered as Margie sat down again. “And it’s the craziest thing, because I’ve only known him this short period of time, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I feel like—”

  “Like you were together in another life.”

  “Maybe, yeah. It sounds a little off, doesn’t it?”

  “No. It’s happened to me twice in my life that I felt like I’d known someone forever,” she answered seriously. “The first time was when I met you in college. I felt like we’d been the closest of friends all our lives. Almost like we were sisters or something. And it wasn’t just that I liked you. It was more. Like I really did already know you. When you told me things about yourself, it was like I already knew them.”

  “Yes. I felt that way about you, too,” said Shell, remembering. “It was strange and really great.” It had been as if she found her long lost sister, but she had never really expressed it until now.

  “The second time I felt it was when I met my second husband.”

  “Donald.”

  “We were sitting at a lecture on the poetry of Sylvia Plath. I ended up sitting next to him. And I looked up at him and knew. I knew he was going to ask me to have coffee, and the thought ran though my head that we would be together.”

  “And he knew too?”

  “He says what he felt was pure animal attraction, but he thinks he’s complimenting me when he says that. It was pretty instantaneous on both sides. Sometimes I just think things aren’t accidental. At least, some things seem too…mysterious.”

  “Like?”

  “Like there are forces that can help things to happen. Patterns or unseen pathways we follow without knowing we’re doing it till we find each other.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand it as well as you do,” said Shell, “but I hope there are unseen forces that are helping us with all kinds of things.”

  “Carmen will have to explain it to us one day,” said Margie with a smile. “Now, about today,” she began, “I think we should take two cars. If they let Dean post bail, he’s going to want to go home. You should take him home so he can shower and you can have some time together. Then you should both come over for dinner. I’ll roast chicken and make pilaf and veggies. We’ll drink some good wine and make a plan. Okay?”

  “Margie, you’re assuming the judge will set bail.”

  “I am. I’ve been reading online since I got home yesterday afternoon. He’s got family here, and he owns a business and property. And he has no record. They should let him out. I’m afraid they won’t, but they could.”

  “Okay. Two cars,” said Shell. “I’m just afraid I’m going to fall apart if the judge won’t set bail.”

  “No, you won’t, Shell. Donald is right. Dean can stand it if he has to spend some time in the county jail. It’s prison that’s the problem, and we’ve got to do everything in the world to keep him from going there.”

  “I’ll do anything.”

  Margie was opening the paper without looking at it, so focused was she on Shell and their discussion, but she looked down now. “Oh, here’s an article about the arrest,” she said.

  Shell got up and came around to the other side of the table. On the front page was the headline, Austin Man Arrested for Murder of Wife. There was an old photo of Dean and Amanda, clearly a wedding picture given to the paper by someone. Or maybe it was an old shot from their archives. At any rate, the damage was done. Wouldn’t every friend, neighbor, or client wonder if Dean was guilty? Shell skimmed the article but saw very little new information in it. There was nothing about the gun or the sweatshirt.

  “And look at this!” said Margie.

  At the bottom of the front page she was pointing to another headline. Man’s Body Found in River. There were no pictures, and there wasn’t much detail, but the article said the body was found about four miles downstream from the 183 on Sunday, two days after Shell and Margie had followed Kojak.

  Chapter 54

  Gonzalez had his doubts. It was all just too tidy. The serial number on the gun showed that it had been purchased by Lana Maxwell in 1992. So Dean Maxwell had inherited it along with every other thing his mother owned. It was the ownership along with possession that made him look so guilty, but Gonzalez was still dubious.

  He shook his head when the information came in. How could someone as smart as Dean Maxwell commit a murder with a gun that could be traced to him? If he had just gotten rid of it, thrown it in the river, they would never have been able to arrest him. And the hoodie. That was just absurd. Only a madman would have kept it, and Dean Maxwell didn’t strike him as remotely deranged.

  “I need you to get Hoffman in here for questioning,” he told Wilson. They were already searching for the driver of Danny Lopez’s car.

  “Myers and Amaro are watching the bar right now,” said Wilson.

  “Well tell them they should be watching the alley behind the bar, too.

  Gonzalez had been kicking himself since Sunday. After Danny Lopez’s body had been found, they had gone to the Onion Creek house. It was a mess inside, unkempt and dirty, but the thing that upset him was the freezer in the garage. It was a six-foot chest freezer, and there were traces of hair and blood in it. Results hadn’t come back yet, but he was sure the hair and blood belonged to Danny Lopez. If only he’d had the house watched from the first minute he learned Danny had taken Becky Lester there. He would have his man right now, he was sure of that.

  The prints in the house had come back belonging to a Hector Arena and Danny Lopez. Arena’s picture was on the bulletin board now, a bald Hispanic man in his late forties with a history of minor drug convictions. He was one of those lucky guys who had been brought in for questioning multiple times but nothing
serious had ever stuck. Money and lawyers, thought Gonzalez. He was undoubtedly the intruder from Dean Maxwell’s house and the man Michelle Hodge and Margaret Carter had followed to the river on Friday night.

  It was half-past noon. “I’m going down to the courthouse,” he told Wilson. “I don’t want to be late for the arraignment,” he paused on the way out and looked back at the younger man. “We know Hoffman gave up his apartment two months ago. We know his prints are all over Amanda Maxwell’s apartment, so he was probably staying there, at least part of the time. What we don’t know is where he’s staying now. I’m going to take a wild guess and suggest we get over and watch Becky Lester’s place.”

  “We’ve already got two guys on the bar,” said Wilson.

  “You and I can go up there after the hearing.”

  He walked. It had warmed up again, and he wanted to feel the sun for a few minutes. Before long he found himself seated in the courtroom. There was Jason Novak seated just in front of him. The sergeant noticed how much Novak resembled Maxwell. Same hair. Same body type. But Gonzalez kind of liked Maxwell. He didn’t much like Novak.

  There was Donald Carter beside Margaret Carter’s pretty red head, and there was Michelle Hodge looking golden as usual. He was glad Wilson hadn’t come. He had been pretty upset about the obvious involvement between the Hodge woman and Maxwell. He didn’t want to hear another word from Wilson about Maxwell being a “lying murderer.”

  Maxwell and his lawyer, Kenneth Richert, were standing in the prisoner holding area with an armed court officer. He could see Maxwell’s jaw doing its clenching thing. Every once in a while Maxwell looked over at his sister and his girlfriend. His face was unreadable, but he could guess the man was having a tough time.

  “All rise,” said the bailiff. Gonzalez stood up and watched as the judge came in. “The Superior Court of Travis County, State of Texas, is now in session, the Honorable Eunice Stansfield presiding.” She was a liberal judge he had disliked in the past. Today, he actually hoped she would be lenient. Would she grant bail was the question, or would Dean Maxwell stay in custody until trial?

  He heard the bailiff read the docket number and then say, “The People against Dean Maxwell!”

  Gonzalez saw that Michelle Hodge’s back was as straight as a board, but Margaret Carter’s was shaking a little. The court officer opened the gate from the holding area and Richert and Maxwell walked out with him to stand facing the judge. On their right stood one of the District Attorney’s lackeys.

  “Mr. Richert,” said Judge Stansfield, “does the defendant waive the reading of the charges?”

  “He does,” said Richert.

  “And what is Mr. Maxwell’s plea?”

  “Not guilty,” answered the lawyer.

  The judge shuffled through the paperwork on the bench in front of her. Then she looked up at the prosecutor.

  “Do you have any reason why I shouldn’t allow bail, Mr. Jones?” she asked the green-looking prosecutor.

  “We do, your honor. We feel that Mr. Maxwell is a flight risk since this is a capital case. We have strong evidence of his guilt.”

  “Mr. Richert? Care to comment?”

  “Yes, your honor. Mr. Maxwell has family here in Austin and he owns a business here. He owns property in Hyde Park. He’s never been arrested for anything in his life, and there are extenuating circumstances related to the evidence found in his home. We feel he’s neither a flight risk nor a risk to the community.”

  The judge looked from Richert to Maxwell and back to Richert again. “Well, you’re saying all the right things, Mr. Richert, but I tend to lean toward the D.A. on this one. It’s a serious case. The shooting murder of a woman isn’t something I can take lightly. I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell. We’ll try to get you a speedy trial.” She hammered the gavel once.

  Gonzalez didn’t know why he felt so mortified. He saw Michelle Hodge’s back soften as her head dropped into her hands, and her friend almost fell against her husband.

  Richert was walking Maxwell back to the prisoner holding area and talking to him in a hushed voice. He knew what assurances Richert was making. The trial date would be set soon. There was a lot of evidence going for him. Don’t take it too hard.

  People were leaving the courtroom. Novak stood up and turned. He saw Gonzalez and gave a slight nod, but his mouth curved in a sardonic half-smile.

  “You guys got it wrong,” was all he said.

  Gonzalez didn’t respond. He couldn’t read Novak. He turned on is heel and headed back to the station. Time to get Wilson and see what was going on at Becky Lester’s house.

  Chapter 55

  The three sat in the courtroom until Dean was taken away. Shell could see him looking back at her, but she couldn’t read his expression. Richert went with him, so they didn’t know what would happen next.

  “Do you know when we’ll get to talk to Ken?” Shell asked as they all headed toward the door. She had given up on keeping herself looking as if all was well. Her eyes were red and her makeup was half gone.

  “No. I think he’ll stay with Dean as long as they’ll let him, and then he’ll probably call us and let us know what’s up,” said Donald.

  “Well, I’d like to wait for a while anyway,” said Margie, turning to face Donald.

  “I have a patient in a half hour. You two learn whatever you can. We’ll regroup tonight.”

  Just then a tall man approached Margie and Donald. He was just coming up to the door to exit the courtroom, and he nodded at them.

  “Uh, you folks probably don’t remember me,” he said, looking at Margie first and then at Donald. “I actually met you at Dean’s wedding. I’m Jason Novak.”

  “Oh, right,” said Donald as he shook Jason’s outstretched hand. “Of course we remember you. You play handball with Dean?”

  “That’s right,” said Jason. “Every Saturday morning at six, and whenever else we can fit it in. Of course, we haven’t been playing much lately. Just once this week.”

  “Hello,” said Margie, shaking his hand, too. It wasn’t exactly an occasion for visiting. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure Dean appreciates your being here.”

  “I don’t know if he saw me. I’d like him to know I came,” he said. Then looking at Shell he said, “Have we met?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Margie. “I’m just a little bit distracted. This is my friend Michelle.”

  Shell nodded and managed a half smile. “Hello,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re not ourselves.”

  “Of course,” said Jason. He handed his card to Donald. “Please give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  They nodded their goodbyes and Jason disappeared into the hall.

  Margie kissed Donald goodbye, and she and Shell went out into the corridor in front of the courtroom to wait for a chance to see Ken. Shell couldn’t bring herself to sit, so they went and stood by a window that overlooked the lawn and parking lot below.

  “I’m more shocked than I expected to be,” said Margie.

  “Me, too,” said Shell. “I had my hopes up.”

  She looked down through the window at the people below. There was Jason walking across an open area of lawn. He did look like Dean at this distance. Her eyes followed him to the parking area, and she watched him approach a gray SUV.

  “Look at that, Margie.”

  “Look at what?”

  “There’s Jason getting into a gray SUV,” said Shell.

  “Yeah?” said Margie, looking down at the parking lot.

  “Brad said the guy who was going in and out of my house drove either a gray or silver SUV.”

  “I know, but you don’t think—”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. I had a weird feeling when I saw his picture the night we were looking at the wedding pictures.”

  “What kind of weird feeling?”

  “Like I’d seen him before.”

  “Well, he looks like Dean.”

  “Only in outline. It’s
his eyes I remember. I’m almost positive he was the guy I ran into when we left Danny’s Place that night.”

  “What guy?”

  “Remember I ran into someone?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I did. We were rushing, and I ran right into this guy leaning against the wall. I nearly fell, but he caught me. Anyway, I looked right into his eyes.”

  “You think it was Jason.”

  “I kinda do.”

  “That would place another person Dean knows at the bar the night we saw Kojak and Ray.”

  “Yeah, and another person who knew Amanda.”

  Just then, they saw Ken Richert coming through a big door a little way down the hall.

  “Hey,” he said as he approached them. “I was hoping you’d still be here.”

  “How is he?” asked Shell.

  “Considering the situation, he’s doing okay,” he answered as he motioned for Shell and Margie to sit on the closest bench. “He wants me to let y’all know he’s not giving up. He specifically asked me to tell you both to stay out of trouble.”

  “Well, his personality hasn’t changed,” said Margie, rubbing a tear away.

  “No, he’s still himself. I think it helps knowing he’s got you as witnesses for the things that have been learned about Amanda’s associates and the man who planted the weapon and the sweatshirt.”

  “And are you aware of the fact that a body was found in the river on Sunday?” asked Margie.

  “I am. It was Danny Lopez. So, the fact that you went down to the river the night the body was probably dropped off is significant. We can’t prove it, but we’ve got the license plate, and the police know the driver was Hector Arena. All this is helpful.” He paused. “There’s kind of a problem in the fact that the gun they found at the house actually is Dean’s.”

  “What?” asked Shell.

  “It was purchased by his mother is 1992, so it was left to him among all of her possessions. He says his mother never bought a gun in her life, and he’s never seen it, so we have some research to do there.” He looked at Shell steadily for a moment. “It was definitely the gun that was used to kill Amanda.”