2 Landscape in Scarlet (6 page)

“You okay, Juliet?
You aren’t too shaken up?
”

“
I’m fine
.”
That was sort of the truth. Physically she was okay.

People died everywhere, in swimming pools, in cars, on skis, in oceans. There was probably no inch of land that hadn’t had someone die on it at some time.

That didn’t mean it was normal to find a body in the bushes at a harvest festival. In fact, most people would go the
i
r whole lives and never have it happen. But now it had happened twice. Juliet wondered what god she had pissed off to have a second murder victim shoved under her nose.

“This couldn’t have waited until the festival was over?” Garret muttered
to his own god
.
“I’m going to miss the second round of the chunkin.”

“
They p
robably
couldn’t wait
. The crowds are handy.
If you’re a murderer
who needs an alibi
that relies o
n
chaos
.
”

Garret shot her
a
glance
and she realized that she had spoken aloud
.
He didn’t argue though. He knew that certain people, more often than anyone admitted, lived in moral chaos. They preferred it. They did evil things, not because they were unaware of their warped instincts, but because they wanted to do them.

That didn’t mean they were good at it. Not in the beginning.

It had surprised Juliet to learn
in the course of her training
that most criminals, even killers, made little effort at obfuscation. Serial killers sometimes did
—
they had to or they ended up with short careers
—
but the average, garden variety, get drunk and kill the neighbor with a shovel type didn’t bother. That was because they didn’t practice premeditation. They didn’t have a plan. They were killers by accident, people with poor impulse control. That made the
m
easy to catch after the fact, but hard to predict beforehand.

The ones who thought ahead were what she classified as murderers. And, as both practical and theoretical experience had taught her, once someone becomes adept at planning and executing their kills, it is possible
—
even likely
—
that they will continue to use what turns out to be a winning strategy
to get through life
. One couldn’t console oneself with the idea that there had been special circumstances and the murderer would never kill again. Not when there
was
premeditation and murder for
some kind of
gain
and not self-defense
in a
surprise
physical confrontation
.

Getting involved
in the situation
went against intuition
—
was counter-
evolutionary to her new
way of
life. Had she not made a conscious decision to keep her
uncomfortable
intuitions under wrap and her neighbors at a comfortable distance? Once her little gift was discovered, her old job became untenable.
Even for someone who worked with blinders, focused completely on the job and prepared to ignore most
human
peripherals, she knew that p
eople were wary of her. Polite, of course, professional. They didn’t forget to invite her to office functions
or refuse to speak to her in the hall
. But no one called her up on the weekend and suggested they go for a drink or antiquing.

Calling herself names for getting involved, Juliet said to Sheriff Garret, “I may be wrong about this, but have the
lab
test for
t
axine first. It
’s a vegetable alkaloid that
comes from the yew tree. It’s nasty
and not hard to make
. Unless he took it deliberately, it would have to be hidden in something strong. Like vodka.”
Yew. It was the ever-
present and popular garden resident from homes built in the 30s.
They were all over town.
Seeing the balloons stuck in the tree made her think of it.

“He didn’t drink,” Garret answered back, his voice equally as soft. “He was an asthmatic with diabetes and an ulcer.”

“
Really?
He looked drunk earlier
, absolutely staggering
. He must have been feeling really sick
when I saw him
,” Juliet said, frowning
and feeling a twinge of guilt. She had assumed like the others that he was inebriated. Perhaps because his makeup hid his true pallor
.
Half of her mind was upset
that she hadn’t caught this
fact
.
T
he other part was calm and logical. The logical part controlled her conversation.
“
Asthma, you said?
Check his inhaler, if he had one. Also look for nasal spray.
The decoction could have gone in that.
”

“Could it have gone in his coffee?”
Garret
didn’t question her hunch.
Nor did he suggest that the dead man had accidently eaten some leaves or berries.

“Would he drink coffee with an ulcer? Anyway, it would have to be really strong, really bad coffee to hide the flavor.
Taxine is extremely bitter.
”

“Well, I guess we’ll see.” Garret pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Doc Hyder
and tell him to bring the wagon
.”
It was more discrete than an ambulance.

“I’ll go get Henderson.”

“Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind coming back with him?
He’s a good man and all, but
I could use another set of eyes
that actually see what they’re looking at
.
”

She did mind, but it wasn’t worth arguing. A friend needed
—
or at least wanted
—
her help. She couldn’t in decency say no.

“That
’s
fine. I’ll ask Rose to mind the booth. We’ll be closing down soon anyway. I can make a statement then if you want.”

“No hurry. Unless you saw something else I should look at now?”

“No. I was just coming to use the bathroom.”

“Go ahead then. There’s no need to rush, poor bastard.”

“
That’s okay
. I don’t need to anymore.”

Juliet went first to tell the
startled
deputy what happened and to pass on Garret’s message about fetching the kit and going in the back way so it wouldn’t attract a crowd. Then she went on to her tent. She waited until Rose had written up her sale for a brown and green alpaca and dog-hair poncho then broke the news that Comstock was dead and that Sheriff Garret wanted Juliet to be
available
to run errands while they moved the body. Juliet didn’t say anything about it being murder
but Rose’s somber gaze said that she guessed the truth
.

“I’m sorry to ask you to mind my things
again
,”
Juliet
said
, hoping she wouldn’t ask questions
.

“That’s okay. We aren’t busy right now and everything is
so neatly
labeled. You know, sometimes it’s like musical chairs,” Rose said sadly.

“Musical chairs?” Juliet repeated
, wondering how sweatshirt
s
and a child’s
party
game related to one another
.

“Yes, you keep wandering in smaller and smaller circles, competing for the same things everyone else wants and needs. And always there is someone left without a chair. I don’t know why it’s like that, but it is.
I always hated that game.
”

Juliet nodded to save time,
still
wondering if Rose was talking about the fair and its
somewhat
disappointing turnout, or if she was speaking of the dead man. Was Comstock someone who never got a seat? Or was he someone who was always taking a seat away from someone else?
Given how little affection people had for him she suspected the latter.

The question pushed the
last of
the
shock away and made Juliet start thinking less about how the man had died and more about why.
Thoughts
and questions
began to stretch and wiggle as they moved into the vacated space and started to arrange themselves logically.
The first one was
who might have wanted him dead?
Someone had to have a compelling reason. Reasons like that were awfully hard to hide
from people who were trained to look for them
.

The undertow of evening was pulling on the fair by the time Juliet got back to her tent.
She had had only two sales while she was gone, Rose informed her regretfully.

“I think things are winding down,” she said back
absently
and then scrubbed at her face
.
She was cold and tired and looking forward to sitting by the fire with a cat in her lap.
“They’ll be better tomorrow
morning
.”

“I hope so.”

They were
definitely seeing the end of the party
.
People were noticing the dark creeping in, the chill, the
ocean
wind
,
and they were gathering up their children and walking up the street to their abandoned cars
and the motor court inn
. It was time for dinner
—
if there was room for any more food after the hotdogs and caramel apples.
It was t
ime to scurry away from the dying sun and seek shelter
from the dangerous things in the night
. Time to turn on the TV and maybe watch a scary movie about dead things, played by actors
,
also long dead while their digitized ghosts lingered on
in energy waves
to haunt the living world
. Then time for bed, for sleep
, for dreams
.

Almost no one needed any more wine or trinkets, or artery
-
clogging food
—
and those that did purchased them quickly and left. Only a few vendors were left
in their booths
when the Cyclops opened its
yellow
eye
and looked over the remains of the day’s feast
.

Madame Mimm, Lulu Weston and her assistant, and Xander Lawson left as a group, heading for the inn. They weren’t
chatting
and Lulu looked
small
huddled inside her sweater.
She wondered if someone had told them of Comstock’s death.
There hadn’t been time for Sheriff Garret to question anyone
, but word had a way of getting around regardless
.

One more day of festival, Juliet found herself thinking as she pulled tarps over her table. One more day and then everyone would go home, including the murderer. For no reason that she could explain, Juliet was sure that the murderer was still there and that it had been one of the vendors
—
one of the strangers
—
that had done the deed.

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about thieves. There would be more than just the one security guard patrolling that night.
Poor Garret and Henderson.

“Are you ready?” Rose asked. Her face was shadowy.

“Ready?” Juliet asked.

“To go to Elizabeth’s.
She’s expecting us tonight.
”

“Yes,” she said, but was
sorry that
Rose had reminded her. “And very ready for some dinner.”

She never had gotten around to eating
that fried Twinkie
and was feeling the need.
Juliet hurried toward the kettle korn booth. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get some popcorn.

*  *  *

“The part about finding dead people wasn’t in the retirement brochure
. No one said ‘come to California and discover dead bodies
,
’
 
” Juliet complained to Esteban as they settled in at Elizabeth and Asher’s cottage. Asher was out and they had come to keep his mother company. Juliet had brought
a bag of kettle korn
,
and Esteban brandy. Rose had
some carrot sticks and
a bag of knitting.
She took special orders for people who wanted things knit out of their pet’s fur. It wasn’t inexpensive because she had to first spin
fur
into yarn
but there were always orders
.