2 Landscape in Scarlet

by Melanie Jackson

  As if to assist her in seeing the error of her ways a fiery lash flogged the sky, tearing the air the moment she stepped foot on the rocky outcrop where she paused to spy on her follower and catch her breath. The rain held back for the time being, as if it preferred to play lookout from overhead until it knew what the outcome of the chase would be, but it was coming. The clouds were too heavy to hold it for long.

  There was some light hanging about the tree branches but only a little made it to the ground inside the gully. The shadows hid her but made hiking at speed difficult and dangerous.

  They might have done their job too well. She had been waiting for a couple of minutes and the gray man had yet to appear. Juliet decided that if there was no sign of him in the next five minutes then she would go back.

  By a different route.

  Taking her thoughts on darkness as a request for light, Thor tossed down a bolt of illumination and noise that shook the stone she was squatting on. Juliet gasped and headed for cover. The strike had been close enough to make her feel like ants were crawling over her body. Lightning chased her up the hill before she did more than catch a glimpse of a gray suit coming up the draw. He was moving fast and looked perturbed.

  Rough terrain and lightning hadn’t deterred him. What the hell did he want with her? What kind of orders did he have?

  The vicious flash followed by a vociferous roar only yards behind them should have discouraged him from traveling any further. Did he not understand the danger?

  Juliet certainly did. After that first explosion, the storm was an unbroken threnody of dazzling light and deafening thunder that chivied her every time she paused for breath. Her muscles were burning oxygen at a tremendous rate and there didn’t seem to be enough in the air to replace it. The hillside would be a bad place to black out.

  Juliet did her best to avoid the poison oak which grew lush on the shadowed ground, hoping spitefully that her follower wouldn’t recognize it and was highly allergic. She kept an eye out for holes that could break her ankles and brambles too thick to force her way through because she was damned if the agency would get a literal pound of flesh from her, but most of her attention was focused on her destination: the caves. That was the best place to wait out the lightening until it moved on. It was also a good place to lose someone.

  The mixed trees’ remaining few leaves flapped overhead like panicky birds attempting a hopeless flight from the storm. They would be gone by morning.

  Juliet was almost to the caves when her brain cleared. Fear had chased away the anger.

  Unless she really was going to try her hand at getting away with murder then she needed to stop. Either her tormentor was lost by then or he was not. It was about to rain and dark was coming along with the cold. It was time to call it quits and face her doom with a polite smile.

  The matter decided, she wasted no time in self-recrimination for her flight into the forest. Juliet made it to the shelter of the small cavern and sat down on a rock. Her knees were wobbly and she was panting like a hot dog. She waited apprehensively, sure that the man would show up, but he didn’t.

  The lightning finally moved on and Juliet decided that it was time to head back to town and face her Nemesis. Always supposing the lightning hadn’t killed him.

  She selected a different route down the mountain, choosing to stay near the stream which came out near the repair shop. It would be really embarrassing to get lost and have Garret arrange a search party for her, and also the deer trail was easier walking.

  Juliet passed a derelict cabin that had probably never met the building code or even had a building permit. It was so far advanced along the course of ruin that not even homeless people would use it. Given the state of the cobwebs in the sagging window frames and collapsing roof, even the spiders had given up and moved along, leaving it to the fungi and moss that were consuming it. There was no shelter to be had there for anything except mice.

  There was a ten-by-ten square that had once been some kind of yard, but it was growing anything except grass. Unless one meant marijuana. It looked as though there might be a few rank stems struggling for survival among the brambles and thistles.

  It was a relief when the ground leveled off and Juliet was able to use a form of locomotion that more closely resembled a walk than a monkey’s crouch and cling. Her clothes weren’t looking great and she had some suspicious stains on her hand, but at least her skin was intact and nothing was broken or fried by lightning.

  The stream jogged east and Juliet found it easier to follow the water course then to head directly for the fort wall where her car waited.

  She hadn’t previously explored that end of town which had been consigned to the “maybe later” renovations. The buildings were still salvageable, but only just. Given another couple years of neglect it would be cheaper to tear them down and start again.

  Davis caught up with Juliet outside of the abandoned American Socialist Party headquarters. The building was small and sad, and hadn’t had clean windows since the summer of love.

  “It’s not worth it,” he said mildly. “They are really tedious people.”

  She turned to stare at her tormentor, taking a small amount of spiteful pleasure in the state of his clothing and the scrapes on his hands and face.

  “Would it make you leave me alone? Maybe get my clearance revoked all together?” she asked.

  “Doubtful. I don’t know why, but someone really likes you.”

  His tone indicated that he didn’t personally see the attraction. This surprised a small laugh from Juliet.

  “Then I guess I won’t do it.”

  “Maybe if you joined Greenpeace,” he suggested, his own face relaxing a little. Davis was seeing the side of Juliet that attracted Raphael. She wasn’t young or exactly pretty, but there was an intelligence of mind, a resourceful competence leavened with humor that would keep her attractive long after the Miss America years were gone.

  “I already have.”

  “Want to get some coffee?” he asked, abandoning all efforts to come off as a he-man. “There is no need to be uncivilized.”

  Juliet thought about pointing out that she would rather shove him under a bus than go anywhere with him, but it wasn’t true. Davis was just a messenger. He would likely go away after his job was done.

  And it was cold.

  “Okay. Let’s get some coffee. I know a place.”

  “Would it be tactless to say that you aren’t what I was expecting?” he asked after a short silence. Rain had begun to fall. Neither of them had hats or umbrellas so did nothing about covering up.

  “It probably depends on how you follow up that comment.”

  “They said you were eccentric but harmless. An artist. Retired from active duty and never in the field anyway.”

  “Well, they got three out of four. That’s about par for them.”

  “Ah, but which three?”

  “I’ll leave that determination up to you.” Juliet cleared her throat. “Do you know Jerome Pinter?”

  Davis looked surprised, and not in a good way.

  “Only by reputation. A buddy of mine took a demotion to get out from under him. I’m just the nearest feet on the ground.” He grimaced as dirty water ran into his mouth. Or maybe he didn’t care for Jerome either. The man was a careerist who filled the agency quota for both ruthless opportunists and power hungry jerks, who expected blind obedience from those under him.

  That meant he didn’t get the best people and certainly none that had big ideas or showed initiative. When he needed someone with brains, he had to poach them.

  “Your friend was smart. Any nose compared to his is cheap.”

  “You were one of his?”

  “Nope. And I never will be.”

  “Okay. I understand that. I still gotta deliver my message.”

  “I know. The good news is that I’ve decided not to shoot the messenger after all.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Chapter 11

 
They were standing in line at the crowded bakery where the smell of pumpkin cupcakes was getting the better of Juliet’s resolution to cut back on sweets. Beside her, Davis sniffed with the nose of a long-term cupcake addict. Their clothes had begun to steam but the rain had washed the worst of the dirt away. They looked only slightly disreputable.

  “What’s good here?” Davis asked.

  “Everything.”

  Juliet noticed at the table nearest the ovens was Lulu’s assistant, Vinnie, and the potter, Samuel Levy. His bald head was sweating and he kept wiping his face with his napkin. The two were deep in conversation, the boy smiling and at ease. He looked very different from the tense young man at the festival.

  “Vinnie.” She paused and said again, “Vinnie.”

  Vinnie—Vincent Hearst—who was living with his stepfather for a while to keep him away from the publicity and gossip.

  Apparently, living in or near the town where Michael Comstock had chosen to make his new home.

  Was that bad luck on Comstock’s part? Or deliberate planning? Had he been stalking the boy?

  Juliet wasn’t aware of drawing in her breath, but Davis heard her.

  “What is it?” he asked softly, making like a ventriloquist.

  Juliet stared at Vinnie with his tattoos and leather jacket, trying so hard to look tough, but ruining it by grinning as he devoured what looked like his fourth cupcake. There was still a bit of the child in the curve of his cheek and in his enthusiasm for the mounds of chocolate icing that had smudged his nose.

  Levy was watching him with indulgence, his expression warm, as loving as any parent’s.

  Juliet was not a maternal woman, but she understood why, if someone had hurt this boy, that it would make a father—or stepfather—lash out in a fatal and final way at the person who had harmed him and was threatening to harm him again.

  Comstock had chosen the wrong place to relocate.

  “Miss Henry,” Dawn Hendricks greeted her, pausing as she wiped down a newly vacated table. Dawn was a junior at the local high school and wanted to get into an art college. Juliet had seen her work hanging in the bakery and made Raphael look at it too. On the strength of her sketches, he had promised to write her a letter of recommendation when the time came. “Here for your pumpkin cupcakes? They’re fresh out of the oven. The coffee is fresh too.”

  “Yes, I can smell them. Dawn, do you recognize the man with Vinnie? Over by the ovens.”

  “Sure. That’s his stepdad. He’s a potter. They come in once a week for lunch. The two of them are really tight. It’s almost creepy. Who likes their parents that much?”

  “Thanks, I thought I knew him from somewhere,” Juliet said and the girl beamed with pleasure that she had been able to help and then walked away on squeaking sneakers. “Hell’s bells. Why did I come in here today?”

  “What? Is it the kid?” Davis was still speaking out the side of his mouth, his lips barely moving.

  “Davis, keep our place in line and get me two pumpkin cupcakes and a decaf coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay. Back from where?”

  “I need to get the sheriff. I—I think I’ve found the murderer.”

  Davis stared at her, for a moment wondering if this was some new ploy to avoid him and then, correctly reading her face, decided it wasn’t.

  “So go,” Davis said. And Juliet went.

  Chapter 12

  “Garret,” Juliet said the moment she opened the door and saw him at his desk. She stayed on the mat where she dripped pathetically.

  “Juliet, what happened?” he asked as he took in her bedraggled state. Unfortunately, he looked almost as tattered.

  Henderson was also staring. She supposed that she looked quite a bit different than she had an hour ago.

  “Nothing—well, nothing important. Look, I think I found the killer.”

  He blinked.

  “Where? Who?”

  “Samuel Levy. I don’t have every detail straight yet but he’s Vincent Hearst’s stepfather. The two of them are eating lunch at the bakery. Now might be a good time to have a word.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

  “And you’re sure it’s him?” Garret asked.

  “Yes. And I think I can connect all the dots now.”

  “Okay. Let’s bring him in for questioning.”

  Juliet opened her mouth to say that she wished he wouldn’t, but closed it again. If she had truly wanted to ignore the killing, she wouldn’t have told Garret what she had discovered.

  It was just that principles that sometimes looked fine in the abstract were harder to face in the flesh. She might have waffled on reporting her suspicions if the killing hadn’t been premeditated. But it had.

  She trailed Garret back down the sidewalk and into the bakery. Davis was waiting with her cupcakes and two coffees in to-go cups. The two men nodded politely, but Juliet saved the introductions for later.

  Garret was a good small town sheriff. He managed to get Levy and Vinnie out of the shop without any disturbance and no handcuffs. The only sign that something was wrong was how pale the boy and his stepfather were. They all trailed back to the sheriff’s office and crowded around the desk. Davis remained standing since there weren’t enough chairs.

  Though he was coming in at the last act and had no program to sort out the players, Davis stayed while Juliet explained her reasoning to the sheriff in more detail. She stared at the wall while she talked, unwilling to look at Levy or Vinnie though she could feel their eyes on her.

  She described how Comstock had been surprised that Levy wasn’t hostile when they met at the festival, perhaps because Comstock didn’t realize that he was Vinnie’s stepfather. He had finally agreed to have lunch with the potter while everyone went off to the chunkin. Levy saw his chance and suggested that Comstock go for the food since he needed to stay and mind the tent.

  The day had warmed enough that the balloon man had left his coat in Levy’s booth while he went to fetch some hotdogs or chicken skewers. It would take some investigating to prove this but chances were good that Comstock would be remembered by the food vendors because of his striking appearance and because Lulu had been fleeing from him and probably making nasty comments to anyone who would listen.

  Darby and Harrison already knew that he had been in Levy’s tent around that time and that Comstock had left his coat there. Carrie had also seen him talking to Vincent who pointed him to Levy’s tent.

  Levy had known from Vincent about the inhaler that Comstock, a habitual suit wearer, always kept in his coat pocket. He had known about the yew being poisonous from his ex-wife who was an avid gardener and wrote a weekly garden-tip column for the local paper. It added up nicely. He hadn’t known for sure when, but he planned on finding some time during the festival to make the switch with the inhalers. It was just blind luck that the balloon man had actually left his coat unattended in Levy’s tent.

  Juliet didn’t mention that it was probably the ex-wife who had actually made the poison. Nor did she dwell on how this act was clearly premeditated and how many people may have colluded to make it happen. Who could tell? Maybe Xander and Madame Mimm would have been willing to let Levy make a switch in their booths if push had come down to shove. Madame Mimm’s tent would be an especially good place to do it with it being so dark and closed on all four sides.

  Above all, Juliet didn’t say anything about how it might have been Vinnie who decoyed the balloon man to Levy’s tent in the first place. After all, it might not have happened that way and the family was about to be punished enough for what they had done.

  The white-faced Levy opted to say nothing until his attorney arrived but Vinnie broke down and told them how Comstock had given drugs to the boys and abused a lot of them while they were under the influence. Vinnie was sure that Comstock had been stalking him, trying to intimidate him into staying quiet about what had happened. There had been anonymous emails and someone had vandalized his motorcycle and slashed the tires on his mother’s car. T
hey had known it was Comstock, but there was no way to prove it.

  Julie nodded sympathetically. It all helped make the potter’s actions understandable, but Levy would probably still be found guilty of murder.

  * * *

  Davis and Juliet left after the attorney arrived from Santa Cruz along with Vincent’s distraught mother. Juliet could see the resemblance to Madame Mimm and figured the other siblings would arrive soon.

  “Time to blow this pop stand,” she muttered and got an answering gleam of amusement from Davis.

  Not knowing what else to do, Juliet walked back to the bakery. They moved slowly, doing their best to stay under the awnings. Juliet was sure her muscles were about to start creaking at audible levels. They felt cold and tight in a way that had little to do with external temperatures. Driving home, climbing the hill to the bungalow, and building a fire would all take effort.

  Looking at Davis and his muddy gray suit that could have been made any time after 1950, she realized that she was also dressed with a certain vagueness of couture that allowed her to blend with her natural surroundings. Compared to his dull clothes she was a shining example of sartorial magnificence in green and brown, but by California standards she was plain and boring. Juliet resolved to wear one of the colorful sweatshirts she made for the tourists the next morning. She wished that she was wearing one right then because it would be warm and might also give Davis a brain seizure and cause him to forget about her.

  “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “And I don’t think I like that smile.”

  “This isn’t a smile. It’s a grimace. At least it’s stopped raining,” Juliet said, changing the subject.

  Her moment of humor had fled. She felt weary and depressed and was once again half-hoping that Garret wouldn’t figure out the mother’s involvement in Comstock’s murder, though it was probable that the whole family had participated in one way or another.