by Roslyn Woods
“Well,” Shell began after thinking for a moment, “the police won’t know about you and Micky or Micky and Dr. Leone. They wouldn’t know about Micky coming in late with her either, would they?”
“Unless someone noticed it and feels like pointing it out. I know Brigitte will have noticed, and Lacy Michaels might have, too. They both know we used to be a couple. Then it will come out about us breaking up…” Gina said, her voice trailing off as her hands came up to cover her face.
“I think you’re giving the detectives too much credit. I doubt they’ll put that together, and I doubt Lacy and Brigitte will have thought enough about it to mention it. Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong. What we need to do is figure out what really happened to Dr. Leone.”
“Why do I feel so terrible?” Gina asked, blotting her face with a paper napkin.
“Because something terrible happened this morning. You’re shaken up. I’m shaken up, too. It’s normal. It would be weird if we felt fine.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Did anyone else get questioned?” Shell wanted to know.
“I think they were questioning Dr. Leone’s husband before I got there. And they asked me for a list of students at the co-op. They’re going to call everyone.”
“What about Dr. Leone’s students at UT? What about that other guy who used to come in with her when she was late? He’s a student. James something. Why did he come in late with her?”
“I noticed him,” answered Gina, “but I don’t have a theory about him either. His name is Beringer. James Beringer. I have no idea what was going on.”
“Was Dr. Leone flirtatious?” Shell asked.
“That’s what the policemen were asking me. I don’t know. I don’t want to say bad things about Dr. Leone. She was really nice to me.”
“She was nice to everyone. The question is, was she too nice?”
“Who could have done this, Shell?”
“When I found Dr. Leone, I heard something. I think it was the door closing back at the entrance. It’s possible someone was there when I came in and found her.”
“And they left when you were in the classroom?”
“I think so. Unless I imagined it, or it was the building settling or something.”
“But you didn’t see any cars but hers.”
“They could have been on foot,” said Shell, “and the bus stop is just over on the corner. Or they could have parked up the street a ways. I wouldn’t have noticed a car that wasn’t in the parking lot.”
Gina was nodding and staring at her water glass again. “Gina,” Shell asked, leaning forward, “do you think it’s possible someone just followed her in to rob the place?”
“Of what? Student art isn’t worth much on the street,” said Gina, “and the cash box is always almost empty. Just a enough to make change for the rare people who pay in cash to see the gallery,” she added, pausing. “Did the police say what time they thought Dr. Leone had been killed?”
“No,” Shell answered, “but I don’t think it could have happened very long before I got there.”
“Why’s that?”
“The blood was so red. Just a bit darker than her ruby red sweater.”
Chapter 5
Shell’s apartment was south of the river near Lightsey and South Congress. She opened the gate with her passcode and drove into the lot before parking her car in its single slot, thankful that she’d made it to her complex safely in the driving rain. She was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and drink a glass of wine before calling her mother.
She left her paintings in the back seat. It wouldn’t do to try and carry them in now. Then, after being pummeled with rain as she ran from her parking place, she hurried up the single flight of stairs with her backpack and had a thought.
Where was the painting I gave Dr. Leone to examine?
She hadn’t seen it in the classroom, yet that was theoretically the reason for their meeting—to talk about that painting. The other paintings she had been asked to bring were just icing as far as Shell had been concerned.
By the time she reached her door, she felt like a drowned rat. Even though the staircase was under an overhang, the wind had driven the rain under it, and it was really coming in. She was completely soaked.
“What happened to you?” said a masculine voice.
“God, Patrick! You scared me! Don’t jump out of the shadows like that!” Shell exclaimed, annoyed at the young man who had just stepped toward her from around the corner of the building.
“Sorry, Shell. I’ve been waiting to see you.”
“I’m going to have to tell the management to change the passcode!” she answered. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I miss you,” he said. She could barely see him in the poor light, and he was wearing a jacket with a hood, but his voice was unmistakable.
“You could have called,” she said as she detached her keys from the hook on her backpack and inserted one of them in the lock on her door.
“I knew you’d just tell me you were busy tonight.”
“I am busy tonight.”
“Are you seeing someone?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.
“Yes! I’m going to take a shower and go watch a movie with Margie.”
“Oh!” he sounded relieved. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
Shell was shaking her head as she pushed the door open. “Come on in,” she said, “but I can’t deal with much. I’ve had a really hard day.”
Patrick followed her into the apartment and removed his wet jacket while Shell sat on the wooden chair by the door and pulled off her cowboy boots.
“Just hang your coat on one of the hooks by my windbreaker and wait in here. I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she said.
“Okay,” he said, smiling at her. “You look great with your hair all wet like that.”
“I’m not in the mood to listen to false compliments, Patrick, so pick a new strategy if you want to talk to me. Otherwise, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll sit here and think of a strategy while you do whatever it is you need to do.”
“Thank you. I’m going to take a quick shower and change.”
Shell went into her bedroom and dropped her backpack on the chair by her bed. She could feel little rivers of water running from her clothes into the carpet, and she hurried onto the bathroom linoleum. She threw a towel onto the floor as she caught her image in the mirror. Her blond hair was darkened by the rain and clung in small waves to her face and neck. Her mascara was a bit smudged, and the fluffy blue sweater she had put on this morning was soaked and shrinking against her breasts and torso. For a moment she hoped it wasn’t ruined. Then she remembered that this was the sweater she was wearing when she found Dr. Leone, and she figured she’d never wear it again.
The shower she had been longing for was a very short one, and she was still grumbling to herself about it as she dressed in something as far from alluring as she could manage. How in the world was she going to get Patrick to give her up?
By the time she returned to the living room in sweat pants and a bulky sweatshirt, Patrick had started the gas fire in the fireplace and was warming his hands in front of it.
“Sheesh! Make yourself at home, Patrick!” Shell said sarcastically as she sat down on the green sofa and looked down at her slippers.
“Thanks,” he answered, turning his gaze to her again. He wasn’t bad looking. He had short reddish-brown hair and a pleasant smile. Nice green eyes with blond lashes.
“I wasn’t serious,” she said.
“Do you think,” he began, ignoring her irritation with him, “that we could have a real conversation?”
“Not tonight. I’ve had my worst day since I moved here, and I just don’t have much of a conversation in me.”
“Gosh, what happened?” he asked, sounding as if he was really concerned.
“My teacher—uh—she was killed t
oday.”
Shell didn’t want to say more. She just wanted Patrick to leave and let her unwind.
“Not Dr. Leone, the one you like so much?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How did it happen?”
“She was stabbed. It’s really too horrible to talk about.”
“Murder! God, I’m really sorry, Shell. Of course you’re upset. But who would do it? Who would want to hurt a harmless art teacher?”
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? I just have no idea.”
“Where did it happen?”
“The co-op. She was supposed to teach a class but she went early and someone killed her.”
“She was the gorgeous lady you introduced me to at the gallery opening?”
“Right. And she was nice. A really generous, good person I think. Of course, I’m starting to think she might have had a secret life.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, Patrick. She was married, but it’s possible she had an extra-marital thing going on. It seems unfair to say that, not knowing. It’s just, someone had to want to hurt her, and I can’t imagine why.”
“Statistics point to the husband.” Patrick, at twenty-seven, was working on an MS in mathematics.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Do you think he could have done it?”
“How would I know? I know nothing of her private life.”
“We met him at the opening too, didn’t we?” Patrick asked.
“Yes. He’s older. She’s about thirty-eight, and he’s probably fifty-five or six.”
“A May-December sort of thing, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” she answered.
“He must be rich,” Patrick declared.
“Do you think so? I never thought about that.”
“Any evidence for it?”
“Well, she dresses in really expensive clothes,” Shell answered, “and she always wore a huge diamond ring, had a half dozen designer purses. And she drove a new Volvo.”
“The most telling thing would be her address. Where did she live?”
“I don’t know, but I can find out. The problem is, even if her husband turns out to be a rich guy, I don’t think she was the kind of person to marry for money. I just don’t see it.”
“Maybe she loved him and he just happens to be rich?”
“Maybe,” she answered.
“Did she run the co-op?”
“Not exactly. It was set up by the art students. I think the whole project was spearheaded by Brigitte Gersten, but Gina and I helped, and Daniel Garza and Lacy Michaels are part of the leadership. Dr. Leone helped us get our donor—the money for two years’ rent—and she oversees the gallery and is named the art director.”
“I remember Brigitte because she looked like a model. Almost as tall as I am and very Uma Thurman. And Gina. Hmm. I can’t say I remember her.”
“She’s Italian. I think she’s very cute.”
“And I didn’t notice her?”
“She’s not fixxy. Seems like you only notice the girls with a bit of glamor.”
“I’m afraid I’m shallow like that,” he said. “You’re always the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Don’t start.”
“Just stating facts. Why don’t I order us a pizza, Shell? We could stay here and have a bottle of wine—”
“No. I’ve eaten, and I promised Margie I’d come over. Plus, I have to call my mom in a few minutes.”
“You really don’t want to see me, do you?”
“I like you Patrick. I just don’t see the romantic thing going anywhere.”
“Why not give it some time? Just date and see what happens?”
“I don’t feel that way about you.”
“But you like me. Feelings sometimes grow and change.”
“I know but—”
“Then just let me be your friend, Shell.”
“Just my friend?”
“Yes.”
“No strings attached?”
“No strings.”
She knew he was taking what he could get with the hope that she would come around and decide he was her dream guy, but she couldn’t tell him that she wouldn’t accept his friendship.
“Okay. And maybe you can help me solve this mystery.”
“You’re sort of insane about solving puzzles, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just the way you have to figure things out. You can get obsessive.”
“This isn’t just any puzzle, Patrick.”
“So you’ll be that much worse about finding your answer,” he said.
Shell was glaring at him, trying to decide if she was making a mistake in agreeing to the no-strings-attached friendship, when he quickly added, “I’m in. I’ll help.”
“Hello, darling,” said Eve Hodge. The sound of her voice on the phone was so comforting to Shell that all her defenses suddenly melted, and she found that her eyes were aching as they filled with tears.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What’s wrong, dear? Has something happened?”
Leave it to Mom to know something’s wrong when I speak two words, thought Shell. “No. I mean, I’m okay. I just had a really bad day today.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, darling! What happened?”
So Shell told her mother the horrible story about finding her favorite teacher’s body at the co-op, minus the graphic details. The whole time she spoke, tears spilled from her eyes, and she kept mopping them with tissues from the box on the end table while her mother said soothing things.
“What will they do now, Shell?” Eve asked.
“The police are investigating. I don’t have a lot of confidence in them, but maybe they’ll find fingerprints on the palette knife, and maybe there are things about her personal life they’ll learn that will shed some light on her death.”
“I do hope they figure it out soon. It’s so much better for everyone to have closure,” Eve said. Then she asked, “How’s Margie, darling?”
“She’s okay. She broke up with Jeremy today. He’s seeing someone else.”
“Oh dear! Well, is she alone tonight?”
“Just until I go over there. I think we’re going to try to watch a movie, and I’ll sleep in her guest room.”
“I think that’s a very good decision, honey. You should be with your best friend if you can’t be with your mom. Besides, it sounds like she needs you, too.”
“How much longer till you retire, Mom?”
“Four and a half months! I’m so excited about moving to Austin, but I really don’t have time to dwell on it. There are so many papers to grade and conferences, and I’m training some of the new teachers in our reading program. But enough of that! Every once in a while I think about being in Austin near you, and I get this happy feeling! You don’t think I’ll be too much trouble for you do you?”
“Mom, you know I can’t wait till you get here! Margie asked me if you’d adopt her today.”
“Oh! That’s so sweet! Tell her yes!”
“Okay. I will.”
“And, honey?”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t go back to that co-op by yourself.”
By eight p.m. the rain had slowed to a drizzle and the wind had died down. Shell turned onto 2nd Street and slowly made her way toward Margie’s on the slick streets. The Austin skyline was beautiful in the rain. The lights fuzzed out into a melded collection of colors, but Shell couldn’t think about the beauty of the city. She kept seeing the image of Dr. Leone lying in a pool of blood.
“How you doing?” Margie asked as Shell came through the front door, damp from the light rain.
“Fine. You?” She knew her voice wasn’t very convincing, but Margie let it go as she took her jacket and hung it on her umbrella stand.
“Jeremy came by and took his stuff. That’s a positive.”
“I noticed. And I see you brought Tabitha in.”
“Yeah. I gave her some milk a bit ago but I need to get her some doggie food. Tomorrow I’ll go to the pet shop and get a few things plus a crate to carry her to the vet’s.”
“You might want to start getting her used to your backyard, too. I’m glad it’s enclosed. She’ll have a safe place to play in the sun.”
“Yeah, I worry about it,” Margie said. “I think I better go around and make sure there aren’t any spots where she can get out. I’m afraid she’s used to traveling around so much that she’ll wander off and I’ll lose her.”
“It’s a good idea,” said Shell. “You’re getting used to the idea, then.”
“Yeah. Now that I’ve decided it seems like the most obvious thing that I should keep her. We sort of need each other,” she said, looking lovingly toward the fireplace where Tabitha was curled up on a pillow. “So how was your visit with Gina?”
“Good, but she’s worried the cops think she had something to do with the murder. I don’t really think they do, but it turns out she used to date Micky, the guy I told you had been coming in late with Dr. Leone. She thinks they’ll think she was jealous and killed her rival.”
“What do you think?”
“Oh God, no! She’s a nice person. But I don’t know Micky. Then there’s James, the other guy she came in late with. And—”
“And? Why are you hesitating?”
“When I talked to Jeremy, he said Dr. Leone had called him this morning to tell him one of his paintings sold. It’s just, he called her ‘Dori,’ like she’s a personal friend.”
“Is that strange?” Margie asked.
“I’ve never heard anyone call her anything but Dr. Leone,” Shell answered, “but he’s closer to her age than most of the students, and he’s not in any of her classes. Maybe she asked him to call her by her first name.”
“Maybe,” said Margie. “I don’t trust him. He’s seeing someone. His clothes smelled like perfume, and you know about the lipstick.”
“Did he try to talk to you today?”
“He tried his key. Then he started alternating between ringing the bell and knocking, but I didn’t open the door.”
“He didn’t just leave?”