What's Left is Right: Book two of The Detective Bill Ross Crime Series (3 page)

While Tommy was off hobnobbing with the sheriff and the governor, Bill and Marie continued to update the white board in the conference room.

“Would you like to have a beer before you head home, Marie?” asked Bill.

“Okay, if it’s just a quick one, I promised Shelly that I would be home before eight tonight. She’s getting a bit annoyed with the long hours of late.”

Shelly was Marie’s long-time partner and worked as a paralegal in one of the largest law firms in Austin. It was their dream to marry and they hoped that Texas would change the gay rights statute someday that would allow them to do that.

~

“This place just opened about three months ago,” said Bill as they walked in to the Bull’s Head Tavern just off FM 183 and Mopac.

Mopac is a main artery of the Austin road system running north/south. The road was built parallel to the Missouri Pacific railroad track connecting Austin with Dallas; hence the name Mopac.

“Have you ever had British beer, Marie?”

“Can’t say I have, Bill. I’m a Shiner and a shot gal myself.”

“I never have been able to get a taste for Shiner. They have forty beers on tap here and one of them is Belhaven, which is brewed in the town of Dunbar in Scotland and imported to Texas by the Ben E. Keith Company right here in Austin. The brewery in Dunbar has been brewing beer there since 1719 and, given that Texas became a state in 1845, that’s back when the cowboys and Indians were doing there thing around here. My assessment is that Belhaven is almost perfect. But there’s always room for improvement through diligent quality control, and I’m a part-time volunteer in that!” laughed Bill.

“Well, with that recommendation I better have some!” laughed Marie.

~

“This
is
good!” said Marie, looking up with the foam from the head of the beer giving her a temporary white mustache.

“I thought it would be good to catch up. We haven’t had you and Shelly over for dinner since Jack’s death, and I wanted to ask how you were coping. His death was a huge shock to me and I’m not sure that I’m over it, and you worked with him for a lot longer than I did.”

“I’m not over it, Bill, I’m tearing up just thinking about it now. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see the face of that monster Fisher again. What I went through plus the death of Jack has had a major effect on Shelly also. She knows I love my job, but she worries about me. She said that since that event in Colorado she can’t wait till I get home safe each night, and the stress of worrying about my safety is affecting her job. I may have to look for another line of work, Bill. I don’t want to lose Shelly,” said Marie, the tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

“Have you talked to Tommy about this?”

Marie gripped her beer glass tightly and stared into the glass. “No, I haven’t. I’ve gone to see a stress counselor to see if I could get some help, and Shelly came with me. It was clear in that session that we both needed help, not just me. The counselor also helped bring other things to the surface that I am trying to come to terms with.”

“Other things?”

“If I tell you, Bill, you must promise not to tell Tommy. I need to work through all of this and I don’t want it to affect the team. Do I have your word that you will keep what I tell you between us? You have to promise!”

“Of course I will.”

“I still haven’t come to terms with being looked over for the position of the head of the cold-case unit. I love Tommy and I want him to succeed, but I should have been given that job! The counselor is suggesting that I might have posttraumatic stress caused by the encounter with Luther Fisher and that it is being made worse by the death of Jack and by my emotional turmoil of being looked over for the promotion. She thinks that I may need many months of treatment.”

“My God, Marie, I had no idea.”

“There’s more, Bill. Based on all of this Shelly is suggesting that I quit the unit and get another job. She said that her law firm needs someone with my experience to do investigative work and has talked to a couple of the partners already, and they want to talk with me. To be frank, Bill, I’m an emotional mess right now.”

“Well I’m glad we came for a beer. Are you and Shelly free over the next couple of weeks? Perhaps before we get to Thanksgiving you both can come over for dinner? We could invite Tommy also and create an opportunity for you to get it out on the table when we are all together, and I can provide support. I am not suggesting that this be an evening for us to gang up on you to convince you to stay on the job, no such thing, but it might be good for all of us to talk it over together. Elaine really likes Shelly and I think that the feeling is mutual.”

“You know what we do is a calling, Marie, it’s not just a job. Elaine and I have talked about this many times over the years and she knows that being a detective is who I am, my identity, if you will, and that without that I would be lost. When we came to the U.S. and I worked for the military contractor, the money was great and I had a job with an impressive title, but I did miss the police work and I’m so thankful to Jack that he gave me the opportunity to get back in the saddle and do what I love to do.”

“He was a good man, Jack Johnson, and his death sent a dagger through my heart. I will never forget what you went through that day in Colorado any time soon either. Perhaps we can find a way to support each other and get through this.”

“I think it’s a good idea, Bill, and worth a try, but I don’t know how Shelly will react. I’ll talk with her and see if she is comfortable with getting this out in the open and with Tommy being part of conversation. If she agrees that it’s the right thing to do, I’ll get back to you on a date that might work for us.”

Marie drained the remainder of her beer, stood up and kissed Bill on the cheek.

“Thanks for suggesting this, Bill. You’re a good friend as well as a great cop. Have a good night!”

Bill ordered another Belhaven, and when it came he lifted it into the air.

“This one’s for you, Jack!”

Tommy called Bill and Marie into his office the following morning.

“You’re not going to believe what happened in the meeting with the chief last night.”

“Okay, Tommy, surprise us,” said Marie.

“Governor Shaw and Governor-elect Gavin McMullen were there!” responded Tommy, unable to control his excitement.

“What was that all about? Why were they there?” asked Bill, somewhat suspicious of their motives.

“They were obviously concerned about the Klan link, because when I told them that our current thinking is that it is unlikely to be a Klan lynching, their relief was palpable.”

“I guess that’s somewhat understandable,” said Bill, now a little less agitated with the motives of the two Texas politicians.

“All three want me to pass on to you both that they are pleased with the progress we are making to date. I now have a weekly update briefing with the chief.”

“But we haven’t really made much progress,” said Marie.

“I agree, so let’s get back to work and get off this political glad-handing bullshit,” said Bill.

“Not had enough coffee this morning, Mr. Grumpy?” said Tommy with a chuckle.

When he saw his father glower at him, he quickly moved on.

“Let’s get to work then,” said Tommy.

~

“What does it say in the file about the work the team did on trying to track down the purchase transaction for the Italian shoes?” asked Tommy.

“It’s a very expensive shoe. They list dozens of stores that they have talked with, including Nordstrom and DTS. They talked with both online and in-store retail folks and nothing!” said Marie.

“Anything in the file about contacting the manufacturer directly?”

“They contacted the main online retailer, it would appear. It’s a site that sells both Mezlan and Bacco Bucci shoes direct from the manufacturer. They struck out there also,” said Marie.

“Shit! This is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack!” said Tommy.

“Let me have a go tracking down the shoe retailer,” said Bill.

“Okay, Marie and I will drive over to Whispering Hollow and start to re-interview folks there.”

Bill grabbed all of the information from the file on the shoe and headed to his desk. Marie and Tommy left to head over to Whispering Hollow.

~

They must have missed something about these shoes
, thought Bill as he sat down at his desk and booted up his laptop.

Bill decided that the best approach was to compare the list of stores and online retailers that the initial investigating team had contacted with what he could find with his own Internet search. It took him several hours. When he was done he concluded that the investigating team had done a really thorough job. There were only two online retail stores that carried the brand that they had missed. He called both and struck out.

“I’m not giving up on this,” said Bill to himself as he stared at the screen. “I need to come at this from a different angle.”

“Where are these shoes made? They may be made in China like everything else is these days, and the Italian name is just for branding and the ability to charge more for the shoes based on perception of coolness. Did I actually just say coolness? Where did that come from?” he chuckled to himself.

~

While Bill was having his coolness epiphany, Marie and Tommy had driven to Whispering Hollow. It was long a drive, forty-two miles from Hudson Bend, and it took them over an hour. They had taken FM183 north and then gone east on FM1431 toward Lago Vista. Before reaching Lago Vista they turned left on Lohman Ford Road and that took them finally to Whispering Hollow.

Whispering Hollow is a waterfront area right at the end of a finger of land on the northern shore of Lake Travis, directly across the lake from the city of Lakeway on the southern shore. It’s part of the Venture Point neighborhood that has at its center the Whispering Meadows golf course.

“Let’s grab some lunch at the golf course grill,” said Tommy.

“It’s now gone noon, and after a quick burger or something we can start the door to door. We can have a good four hours to talk with the residents before we need to get back on the road and head home.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Marie as they pulled into the golf course parking lot.

It was a small grill, nothing fancy, with a few plastic tables and chairs and a small bar. Tommy reckoned that if there were more than 25 people in the place they would be violating the city fire ordinance. One guy sat at the bar and another two were at a corner table comparing scorecards and settling up their wager for the round. The place smelled of popcorn, hot dogs and beer. They decided on hotdogs and a couple of Cokes to wash them down.

“A little quiet around here today?” said Tommy, making small talk with the forty-something blond lady as she popped open the diet Cokes.

“It’s midweek and it’s a little cold today,” responded Cheryl Brown as she poured the cokes. “It’s mostly a weekend crowd here, with the retired folks on weekdays to keep the wolves from the door.”

“So how long have you worked here?” asked Marie.

“Eighteen years come spring. I work Thursday through Saturday and I have another bar job in the evenings in Lago Vista where I live,” said Cheryl as she headed over to the two golfers at the corner table with a couple of bottles of Bud Lite.

When she returned to the bar she grabbed a cloth and started cleaning off the bar top.

“So what brings you folks way out here then? Looking to buy one of condos over at Comanche Point, are you?”

“No, not really, we’re both detectives with the Travis County Police Department,” said Marie.

“Oh, I see,” said Cheryl.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions, Cheryl? I assume it’s Cheryl as that’s what it says right there on your nametag,” said Tommy.

“I guess you
really are
detectives,” laughed Cheryl.

“Why did you ask us about Comanche Point?”

“Oh, they’re running special pricing over there as they have a few for sale right now.”

“Why is it called Comanche Point?” continued Marie.

“I have no idea, but a lot of Venture Point streets have Indian-sounding names. A mile that way is Indian Point, then there is Navajo Trace, and down toward the lake before you get to Whispering Hollow is Panateka Circle.”

“Penateka, never heard of that name, Cheryl, is that an Indian name?” asked Tommy.

“I think so. I heard a couple of guys talking about the name once. I guess they were part Comanche,” said Cheryl, now looking a little bored with the conversation.

“Do you remember a fire at Whispering Hollow a few months back?” asked Tommy.

“I sure do, it was like the Fourth of July that night with all the fire tenders and cop cars with the flashing lights. I guess they found some dead guy and they reckoned he was homeless and had started a fire to keep himself warm and burned to death,” said Cheryl as she repeated the false story that had been put out at the time.

“It was at the end of January when it happened. It must have been real cold next to the lake.”

“Do many people sleep rough down there?” asked Marie.

“I see the occasional vagrant, but not too much. In the summer kids drive their trucks down there and hang out to drink beer and watch the sun go down, but in the winter it’s pretty quiet. Did you guys find out who the poor guy was? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, we’re still working on it and it’s been a few months since it happened, so our boss asked us to come back out here and take another look. There are a lot of vagrants found dead around the county each year, but we do try our best to identify them and let their loved ones know.”

Marie didn’t think that her lie was all that convincing but Cheryl seemed to buy it.

“Well I hope you
do
find out. The poor man,” said Cheryl, her eyes drifting off in the direction of Whispering Hollow.

~

“Well, that was a little spooky,” said Tommy as they got back into the car. “We have a victim of possible Native Indian lineage found in an area where everything around seems to have an Indian name. It sends shivers up my spine!”

A couple of minutes later they drove out of the parking lot toward Whispering Hollow to begin the door to door.