J. Margos - Shattered Image

“Huh. So, there must have been some similarity in the way they were killed or something that made y’all think they were linked.”

“Yes. Their remains were in a similar condition and left in similar circumstances. We don’t think Austin is their original burial place.”

“So, the woman’s remains were found in a similar manner to Brian’s?” he mused out loud.

“Yes, her bones were found dumped in a fresh grave along the riverbank on what we call Red Bud Isle. If they hadn’t been found by a passing kayaker that morning, they probably would have gone undiscovered until they were carried away by the spring rains.”

“Interesting,” he said, leaning back precariously in the diner chair. “Then where were Brian’s remains found in relation to hers?”

“His were actually quite a ways downstream near a running trail that crosses a creek that feeds into the river. His remains really weren’t close to the water at all. They were actually surprisingly close to this running trail.”

“Uh-huh. So, y’all think because they were both reburied like that and the bones all jumbled up like, that’s why the two deaths are related?”

“Well, and also because the soil samples on both point to an original burial in this area.”

“Hmm. I’ll be.” He landed the chair back on the floor and shook his head in amazement.

“That’s really what brings me down here.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I’ve been visiting with Nadine Ferguson to try to find out where some of Brian’s favorite bird-watching spots were, but she couldn’t remember. She thought that Bud, Julie and Frances could help me with that.”

“Why do you think that would help?” Julie asked.

“Well, if he went bird-watching right before he disappeared-and I had heard that is what he was doing-then maybe we could narrow down some spots where he might have been killed. There might be something in that location that would give us more clues to go on. Actually, anything might help at this point.”

“You know, he went to a lot of places around here, and I’m afraid my memory of exact locations wouldn’t be real good,” Bud said.

Julie and Frances looked at each other. The chief caught the look, as did I.

“If you two ladies have anything to say, I’d say it now. You never know what might help this lady. If you help her, you’re helping Brian,” Chief Grant said.

“Brian had two or three favorite places, but I think he went to the Gunther place that weekend,” Julie said. “Out at Angler’s Point.”

She and Frances exchanged glances.

“We know that’s where he went,” Frances said. “The bird he was looking for was there in abundance, and he liked the place anyway.”

“The Gunther place? That’s over three hundred acres,” the chief said. “Toni, we could never search that whole place.”

“I know the places Brian went when he went there,” Julie said.

“Still, we can’t just walk on,” Chief Grant said. “The man who owns that place now is a crotchety old guy. He would never let us on there just to look. He’s got No Trespassing signs everywhere, and rumor has it that he shoots at anybody he catches on his property.”

“It’s true,” Bud said. “He does shoot at people. He shot at the Stone boy once when he snuck on. His parents almost killed him when they found out.”

“We’d have to get a warrant,” the chief said. “Do you think you have enough probable cause for a warrant, Toni?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But probably not.”

I ran my hand through my hair. I knew we didn’t have enough for a warrant. I was already thinking about talking to Drew about all of this.

“Well, that’s just the pits,” Bud said. “How much do you need to convince a judge?”

“Probably a lot more than they’ve got,” Chief Grant said.

“Well, let me get back to Austin, and talk to the detectives working this case,” I said. “Maybe there’s something we can do.”

Julie and Frances exchanged looks again, but this time I wasn’t sure I understood those looks. Those two were close, I could tell, and they had their own language.

“Do you have a card, Toni?” the chief asked.

“Sure.”

“If anything comes up on my end, I could give you a shout. I’ve already got your son’s number, but if I can’t reach him, I could probably reach him through you, I bet.” He smiled.

“That’s for sure. If nothing else, he comes over to raid the cookie jar on a regular basis.”

The group chuckled. I gave the chief my card and said my goodbyes to them all. As I drove back to Austin that afternoon, I wondered about Julie and Frances and that last look.

I was grumpy when I got back to Austin. I was frustrated about knowing where we could search and not being able to go search it now. I thought there would probably be something at the original burial site that would help us, if we could just find it. I tried to reach Drew and Mike and Tommy. None of them were in, or answering their cell phones. That just made me grumpier.

The CILHI sculpture stared at me with partial clay on it and beckoned for me to get on with it, but I was stalling. And I didn’t know why I was stalling. Normally, working on something like this would take my mind off the frustration of the Red Bud and Waller Creek cases. I might even have a breakthrough on them, while working on another bust, but I couldn’t get into anything. I was about to give up on the whole rest of the day and just go drink hot tea in the living room and stare out the window, when the phone rang.

Drew Smith was returning my call.

“So, you’re back from Houston,” he said.

“Houston and Hempstead. I made a side trip based on info I got from Nadine Ferguson.”

“Did you find out anything?”

“Found two women who were good friends of Brian’s. They claim to know where he went to bird-watch that last day.”

“That could be helpful.”

“It would be except the old coot who owns the place now apparently lets no one on his property for any reason, and shoots at people who violate his No Trespassing signs.”

“Maybe I could talk him into it,” Drew said. “Otherwise, we’d need a search warrant, which I don’t think we could get right now.”

“Right.”

“The woman’s information isn’t concrete. He could have said he was going there, and gone somewhere else. Do Mike and Tommy have any other evidence leading to that area, or indicating a specific location?”

“None.”

“I could try to finesse it out of the old man,” Drew said, “and if I strike out, I could see if I can get a warrant out of a judge I know down there, but I’d have to really work it. I’m going to talk to Mike and Tommy about this now. I think there’s enough reason for me to become involved. It’s more than one murder, probably both committed outside of Austin, with linking crimes in Austin.”

“I can’t get hold of either one of them, so you’ll have to brief them on my trip.”

“I can handle that. Meanwhile, I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Lisa Wells’s mother was so grateful for your work on our cottonwood case that she wrote you a letter and posted it to me for delivery to you. Want me to fax it over? I can give you the original next time I see you.”

“Yes, definitely fax it on.”

“Okay, it’ll be coming across in just a minute. I’ll try to get in touch with Tommy and Mike. We’ll let you know what we decide to do.”

“Thanks, Drew.”

Within a minute or so, my fax machine came to life and hummed and beeped as the page came through. I pulled it off the machine and read:

Dear Dr. Sullivan,

Words could never express what you have done for me and for my family with your artwork. The bust you did of my Lisa was so beautiful and done with such care, it was as if you knew her in life. The resemblance was perfect. You had even caught that little gleam of joy that used to be hers before she got caught up with the wrong man. Truly, you and she must have made a spiritual connection for you to see in her bones so much of what was really Lisa. Lieutenant Smith says that you are a Christian woman and that you pray often. I can only say that I was not surprised, for to see your work and have the benefit of it in this way was to share in the grace of God’s gifts and comfort. May He always bless you.