by Roslyn Woods
“This doesn’t sound good. I suppose you know the husband is always a suspect in cases like this.”
“And Shell thinks Jeremy might have had something to do with what happened, too,” she added. “At least, he clearly had a strange relationship with Dr. Leone.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, someone who took Dr. Leone’s painting class told Shell that he thought Jeremy was blackmailing her.”
“Start over. Can you catch me up from the beginning?”
So Margie caught Donald up with what Shell had told her, up to that moment, about Jeremy. When she had told him everything, Donald shook his head.
“I think you might actually be dealing with a genuinely unstable person,” he said. “Do you plan to stay at Shell’s for a while?”
“I thought I might, but now that I’ve seen the judge—”
“Not much has changed.”
“Really? But the restraining order—”
“Won’t stop a crazy guy.”
At around two, Margie’s phone buzzed. It was the car place calling to say her car wouldn’t be ready before 4:30.
“Good. We have more time than I thought,” Donald said after she had ended the call. “I was thinking we could go across to the bookstore. It won’t take long, actually. I just wanted to show you a book I think you’d like.”
“Okay,” Margie answered. “You’ve got me curious.”
They split the bill for lunch at Margie’s insistence, and Donald drove her the short distance from the restaurant to Barnes and Noble. Once inside he walked her straight to the poetry section.
Margie watched as he searched through the shelves for a minute.
“Here it is,” he said, presenting a volume to her. “Billy Collins’ new book.”
“Wow. I’ve only read Questions About Angels.”
“He’ll be in Austin, you know. Tomorrow night. He’ll be at The Paramount.”
“I didn’t know about the reading,” she said, examining the book’s cover, The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems.
“Would you go with me?” he asked.
“You’re going?”
“I’m pretty sure I can get tickets. So will you? It’s a bit late, so we might not get the best seats.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re the only person I know who can appreciate—”
“It sounds kind of like—“
“A date. I know. It’s not. It’s two people who appreciate poetry going to a reading together. Just like last night.”
“I hope my windshield doesn’t get smashed this time.”
Chapter 15
“Let’s drive by Dr. Leone’s house,” Shell suggested.
“Why? What on earth for?” Gina wanted to know.
“I want to see if there’s anything weird going on over there.”
“By now,” Gina said, “their families from California may have arrived. The place might be brim full of people.”
“I doubt it. The memorial isn’t till Saturday. I’m guessing they’ll start arriving tomorrow night,” she answered.
“Hmm. You don’t think he’s got a very loving family, then?”
“I don’t know why I think that exactly.”
“I sort of had the feeling she was isolated from family, too. Maybe it was something she said in class.”
“I think she mentioned having a brother. I guess we’ll see at the memorial.”
They took 35th St. over to Mopac and headed south toward Enfield. Ten minutes later, as she turned into the neighborhood, Shell noted that it was even more lovely on a sunny day. The bright green of the rye lawns was a perfect foil for all the flowers everyone had planted.
“God,” said Gina, “it’s like she lived in a park!”
“Yeah,” said Shell as she turned onto Bridal Path. In two minutes they were slowly driving by the house, and there were indeed a few cars parked in front, but Shell didn’t recognize any of them. She continued along the street and turned off Bridal Path. In a few moments they were back on Enfield.
“What were you looking for?” Gina asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“Dr. Jansen? Maybe. I don’t know.”
Shell just kept driving and thinking. In a few minutes Gina asked, “Do you think Jeremy had something to do with it?”
“I think he had something to do with something about it. I still find it hard to believe he killed Dr. Leone.”
“But smashing Margie’s windshield and the windows of her house—”
“I know. I’m not saying there isn’t something wrong with him. But it seems like he was friendly with Dr. Leone. He was so nonchalant when I saw him two days ago. He seemed surprised.”
“I wanna know what he had going with Lacy Michaels.”
“Yeah. That’s next I guess. I just don’t know why she’d be honest with me about it, especially if she’s really having an affair with Jeremy.”
“Your phone is buzzing.”
“Would you check to see if it’s Margie?” Shell asked.
Gina picked the phone up from its pocket on the dash. “It is,” she said.
“Talk to her for me, would you?”
“Okay. Hello Margie? This is Gina answering for Shell while she drives. We’re on the way now. I bet we could. Just a sec,” she said. She put the phone against her chest and asked Shell, “Do you think we could stop by her house and pick up the doggie bed and the dog food from the pantry? She’s still waiting for her car, so she wants to go straight to the vet to pick up her dog.”
“Tell her we’re on it!” said Shell. She stayed on Enfield and headed across town.
“We’re on it,” Gina said into the cell. “Okay, we’ll meet you back at the apartment.” Gina ended the call and put the phone back in its slot on the dash before she asked, “Are you at all nervous about going to Margie’s house?”
“No. It’s broad daylight. He wouldn’t do anything right now even if he hasn’t been notified about the restraining order, and I’m pretty sure he has.”
“She got it?”
“Yeah. She texted me when she left the court this morning. She went to lunch with her new friend, and he was going to take her to pick up her car.”
“Her new friend?”
“Yeah. The guy I told you about who drove her home last night. Turns out he’s a psychologist, and he likes poetry. Margie has a whole collection of poetry books, and she’s way into it. Anyway, he was off today and offered to go with her to court. I guess Jeremy nearly ran him down, too.”
“So he had a stake in seeing that Jeremy is served a restraining order?”
“Or he likes Margie. My guess is he likes Margie.”
“Yeah, she’s a really beautiful girl.”
“Yeah. He seems to be—I don’t know—more on her level than her usual boyfriends.”
“Her level?”
“She’s smart. She’s actually really artistic and maybe older than her years. He’s a little older, but I think he’s interesting to her. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome.”
“I want to meet this guy.”
“Well, if my theory is right, you’re going to meet him. We’re all going to see more of him.”
“Your theory?”
“They sort of fit.”
They had just crossed in front of the Capitol when Shell realized this wasn’t the best route to take. “Darn it!” she said. “I forgot Fifteenth dead ends into thirty-five. We’ll have to go up to MLK and take a surface street down to Margie’s.”
“Why not take Thirty-five?”
“Have you noticed the traffic?”
As they approached the Interstate 35, Gina could see that the southbound lanes were almost at a standstill. “You’re right. It looks like surface streets will be the only way. At least you don’t have to go far north to hit MLK, and you can take Chicon all the way down to—where did you say she lives? Fifth?”
“She lives
on Second.”
“I think it goes all the way there.”
In another minute they were turning right onto MLK and heading east.
“You know who lives near here?” Gina asked.
“I hope you’re going to tell me.”
“Lacy Michaels.”
“Really? Where?”
“I think Eighteenth Street near Poquito or Chestnut.”
“Well, let’s do a drive-by.”
“It’s a day of drive-bys.”
In two minutes Shell turned right on Chestnut. In another minute she was making a right onto 18th Street.
“Just go slowly,” Gina was saying. “She drives a black Jetta. There it is in her driveway!”
Shell noted the license plate. UJN 1424. Then she noticed something else.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Do you see what I see?”
Up ahead, on the south side of the street, a yellow Corvette was parked on the curb.
“Well, what do you know?”
Chapter 16
When Margie got to Shell’s with Tabitha, she was all smiles.
“Oh, how’s the doggie?” Shell asked, bending down to look into her crate.
“She’s fine. Just kinda sleepy. The vet says to let her rest as much as she wants. She’ll get active again as she’s ready.”
Tabitha let out a sharp bark and briefly wagged her tail before tucking her face under her paws.
“Aw, she’s really cute!” Gina piped in. “By the way, we picked up her bed and her food.”
“Thanks. Were the windows getting fixed?” Margie wanted to know.
“Not yet,” said Shell.
“Well shoot! The landlord said he’d get someone over there today,” Margie answered. Then, suppressing a smile she added, “I’ll just go and change. I’ve got an idea for us.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Shell asked, looking at her smiling friend. “And what’s in the bag?”
“Nothing. Catch me up on what’s going on with your day,” she answered, hoping to divert Shell from her unaccountable happiness.
“I’m sorry to land on you guys like this,” Gina said. “The cops say I can’t leave town, Margie, and I’m having a hard time staying alone right now.”
“Shell loves company, don’t you Shell?” Margie asked.
“I do. I told Gina it would be like a slumber party at my apartment tonight!”
“But first, are you gals up for some shopping?” Margie asked.
“What?” Shell was surprised.
“Donald’s taking me to a poetry reading tomorrow night, and I need something to wear.”
“What do people wear to poetry readings?” Gina asked.
“I don’t know,” Margie answered. “Something cute.”
“Now I know why you’re smiling! Shopping will be a nice distraction,” Shell said agreeably. “Then we can order a pizza later.”
“Just let me change my shoes,” said Margie, still in heels from her morning in front of the judge. “And, if you don’t mind, this pantsuit has gotta go. I want jeans!”
“Okay. You get ready and I’ll set up a barricade so Tabitha can at least be free to walk around in the kitchen. I don’t think we better let her on the carpet right now.”
“Good idea!” said Margie. “Do you have some newspaper to put down?”
“Yep. I thought of that already.”
“And Shell,” Margie added, “thanks for helping out like this. I know it’s a lot.”
“It’s not a lot! It’s nothing, and it’ll be lots of fun! Besides, I need to get to know Tabitha.”
They went to The Arboretum in the northern part of Austin. There were several shops that Margie liked there, Gigi’s being her favorite, and even Gina was persuaded to buy a new pair of jeans and two blouses.
“Are you sure?” she was asking Shell.
“Absolutely. That looks really good on you. It complements your hair color and your eyes!”
“Okay. I’ve never shopped with friends before. I’ve always gone alone or with my mom, but I never trust my mom’s taste.”
“That’s not unusual,” said Shell. “Moms don’t normally have a handle on current styles for people our age, so it makes sense to shop with friends.”
“Do you two like this blue top?” Margie was asking from in front of a three-way mirror near the dressing rooms.
“I love it with your copper hair,” said Gina.
“See?” said Shell. “You’re getting the idea about colors that complement.”
“I just wish I could do something with this mop!” she answered, combing her shoulder-length hair with her fingers as she pushed it away from her face.
“What? You’ve got great hair!” Margie said over her shoulder as she headed back into the dressing room.
“I think it looks awful. I wish it was curly,” Gina admitted to Shell.
“You’ve gotta go with what you’ve got, Gina,” she answered. “It’s thick and wavy like mine. You can do a lot with it.”
“Will you show me how you do yours?”
“Sure. We can mess with our hair and makeup when we get back to the apartment.”
“I don’t wear makeup,” she said.
“Why not?” Shell wanted to know.
“I look freakish and weird in it.”
“Maybe we can see what you mean back at my place. But first, we’ll have to pick up some foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick!”
“Okay, but you’ll see. I look like a clown!” she said, making Shell laugh.
Just then Margie came out of a dressing room in fitted stonewashed jeans. Her top was a see-through, lacy-looking, scoop-necked pullover. Under it she wore a spaghetti-strapped, black silk shell. It was stylish, sexy, and just casual enough.
“I actually think that strikes the perfect tone, Margie,” said Shell, “and I’ve gotta say, your hair looks really good against the black!”
“Wow,” said Gina with wide eyes, “it looks amazing!”
“What shoes?” Shell wanted to know.
“I think I need something with a small heel that’s still casual.”
“You know what I’m thinking?” Shell asked.
“No.”
“You should wear my black cowboy boots.”
“Oh my God,” said Gina. “She’s right!”
Shell and Margie often wore each other’s clothes and shoes, and Shell was squinting while she imagined her black leather jacket over the top Margie was wearing.
“What about accessories?” Margie wanted to know.
“Your mom’s sterling silver cuff bracelet, and big silver hoops,” Shell said without hesitation. “Or you could buy something blue to wear and pick up the blue in the jeans, but I think the silver is better, and real silver always looks better than costume jewelry.”
“Okay! Let’s go pay for this stuff!” said Margie.
“Right after we pick up some makeup for Gina,” said Shell.
In another thirty minutes they were headed for the counter when Gina said, “Wait. Stop!” in a low voice.
“What is it?” Shell asked.
Gina nodded in the direction of the checkout counter. Ahead of them they saw Brigitte Gersten making a purchase. Margie didn’t know her, but she figured she must be a friend of theirs.
“I’ll start off the talking,” Shell said softly and stepped forward. In a moment they were in line directly behind the willowy, strawberry blond.
“Hey, Brigitte!” Shell said, “Fancy meeting you here!”
Brigitte turned around with a surprised expression. “Oh!” she said. She looked momentarily embarrassed and quickly put her large Michael Kors bag on the counter, partially blocking the visibility of her purchases. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just shopping! My friend Margie joined Gina and me in trying on clothes,” said Shell. “Have you two met?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure,” Brigitte said formally, her face slightly pink.
�
��Margie, this is Brigitte. Brigitte, this is Margie,” Shell said.
Gina stood watching the exchange with narrowed eyes while Brigitte nodded a hello at Shell’s best friend and Margie smiled in a friendly way and said, “I’m so glad to finally be meeting some of Shell’s friends from the co-op.”
“Yes, it’s good to meet you, too,” said Brigitte.
“Miss?” said the woman behind the counter, “would you like these negligees in boxes?”
Brigitte turned around and looked down at the clerk. “Yes. Yes, that’ll be fine,” she said, and turned back to look at Shell.
“Have you been down to the police station?” she asked stiffly.
“Only the one time. How about you?” Shell responded while—in spite of the big purse—Margie and Gina watched, fascinated, as the clerk carefully folded a lacy, black negligee and placed it in noisy tissue as she boxed it.
“Yes, just once,” Brigitte said, her face growing redder by the second.
“Gosh!” Gina piped in. “Those are beautiful jammies you’re buying, Brigitte! A black one, a red one, and a purple one! Just scrumptious!”
“If you must know,” she said, clearly flustered, “a friend of mine is having a wedding shower, and these are gifts.”
“Oh, naturally!” said Gina. “We never buy the pretty stuff for ourselves!”
“Isn’t that the way it goes?” Brigitte said with an awkward smile.
“She must be a really good friend,” Gina continued. “Those things are pricey! If any of you girls ever invites me to a wedding shower, I promise I’m only buying you one negligee.”
“Yes, yes she is a good friend,” Brigitte said as she turned to sign the receipt the clerk had pushed toward her, but everyone saw the total on the register was nearly three hundred dollars.
“You’re funny!” Margie was saying to Gina as they headed for Shell’s Corolla in the parking lot. “I take it you don’t like Uma Thurman much?”