2 Landscape in Scarlet (8 page)

“This is a bad business though,” Raphael said.

“And it will be bad for business
if it isn’t resolved
,” Esteban added, also taking a seat. “The news crews will
be back and
scare away the families and bring in the thrill
seekers.”

“Who d
on’t buy art. Not even t-shirts.
” Juliet
nodde
d.

“So, we agree. Tell me about what happened,” Raphael said. “Not the official version, please. I have the general outline of what the sheriff believes
took place
.”

“You know I could be wrong
about what I am thinking
. It happened before
,” Juliet reminded him, not asking him how he
had discovered
what the sheriff thought.
It could be that Garret also liked discussing things with Raphael.

“Yes,
once,
but I want to hear your theory
anyway.”
He was calm, taking away any drama from
the memory of
her one botched case.

Juliet took
a
breath.
She didn’t bother trying to dress up her thoughts with
“
alleged
”
and
“
possibly.
”
She simply said what was on her mind.

“I think he was poisone
d
—
with
t
axine or some other vegetable alkaloid
, probably administered through his
asthma
inhaler
. I believe the killer followed him when he saw that
Comstock
was really ill and headed for the stables
which were mostly deserted at that time because of the chunkin
. I think the killer shoved him into the bushes where the body would be harder to find and stayed there until he
—
or she
—
was sure
Comstock
was dead
, willing to finish the job if the drug didn’t work
.
And we have three really good suspects for the murder
—
none of whom feel quite right to me but who most certainly could have done it
and who will have to be questioned
.”

“Go on. Tell me about them,” he said.
“Why would they turn their hands to murder?”

Esteban stretched out his legs, getting comfortable, content that she do the talking.
Raphael also looked completely at ease, the light of the fire playing over his handsome though rather aquiline face.

Juliet laughed shortly. They were like friends on a camping trip, telling ghost stories around the campfire.
Of course, these stories were real
and potentially deadly
.

“There was a
not very nice
boy named Joel Gray
.
…”

All the stores downtown were decorated with sheaves of corn and flamboyant squash and gourds.
There was no rain, but the trees along the street danced in the wind, swaying left and right and whispering incessantly
as they continued to disassemble themselves and leave their colorful litter in the gutter
.

Juliet
had left
the compound
early. She
decided not to be
tempted by fair food
which was caloric and lousy,
and stopped at the
Spalding’s
bakery for a pumpkin cupcake, which was the most delicious thing she could imagine. Had she no fear of fat she would probably end up bankrupt and owing the bakery her soul to pay off her line of credit. But since she did fear fat, she only got t
hree
—
one for her
, one for Garret
,
and one for Rose
—
and a cup of coffee
since she liked hers rather weak and not so thick with grounds that she couldn’t see through it
.

There was also, most conveniently, enough time to drop by Garret’s office
and have a little chat
, if Dave Spalding hurried
.
He did not seem inclined to haste but wished to tell everyone about deciding to try for a place on
Cupcake Wars
.

Juliet gritted her teeth and smiled.

The sheriff was in, as she expected him to be.
It was apparent that he hadn’t spent the night with his feet up, sipping beer
and watching football
. In fact, there was a slight bruise on his left cheek
almost as dark as the bags under his eyes
.

“Juliet?” he asked hopefully as she opened her white bag and pulled out a pumpkin cupcake.
His
cheeks were unshave
n
, proving the night had been a long one
and he hadn’t been home yet
.
Garret as much as anyone knew that there was a tourist ecosystem that could be disrupted by a killing
and would do everything he could to prevent it causing damage
.
“Have you heard anything, or had any thoughts
since yesterday
?”

She could understand why he was hoping for a positive answer. The police department was a small one and there were a lot of people at the fair.
Any of them could be the killer.

“Eat up. Sugar will give you energy.
You seem to need it
since you are walking into doors
.
”

He grunted.

“Had to break up a fight last night. Some
lightweight
got a four
-
beer hard-on and decided he didn’t really like his two best friends anymore,” Garret explained.

“A four
-
beer hard-on? I’ll have to remember that.”

“Thank you for the cupcake
,” he said with real gratitude
.
“
Sugar and caffeine may be all that stands between me and a coma.
By the way, you were right.
Doc looked right away and t
here was
t
axine in the inhaler. I don’t know how they tell these things, but it was apparently some homebrewed thing, not done by a commercial distillation process
which would have removed more debris
.”

“That figures.”

“There was also some kind of mud in the threads that they are trying to identify. The color is wrong for around here. No prints, except Comstock’s
,
so it was probably wiped clean.”

“
Naturally.
Was there any sign that
Comstock
was a drug user?”

Garret raised a brow.

“None. The tox screen will take a while but there were no outward signs
—
and no history of drug use in the record. He has no police record at all, except for a parking ticket in San Francisco three years ago. Why?”

Juliet sighed and then repeated what she had heard
from Rose
the night before. She suggested that Garret find the name of the
“
other boy
”
who had overdosed
with Joel Cray
. He might be the only person who could tell them if Comstock had actually been supplying drugs. Not that it mattered in terms of the killer’s motivations. A belief in Comstock’s wrongdoing would be
—
had been
—
enough to motivate them to act. But Juliet needed to know for her own peace of mind if she was investigating
the death of
a guilty man, or if she was trying to find the truth about an innocent one.

Because if Comstock wasn’t guilty, then he needed to have his name cleared. Perhaps that would appease his shade
which seemed to hover near her
, mourning at the corner of her eye
.

“That he didn’t take drugs himself doesn’t mean he didn’t deal or give alcohol to the boys. Or that he didn’t abuse them.” Garret was thinking out loud.

“The boys didn’t overdose on alcohol.
Can you talk to the police and find out if there was any evidence that he was giving out drugs
in return for sexual favors
?
”

“You bet I will.” Garret sounded energized. Juliet just felt tired
and discouraged by the whole ugly problem
.

Comstock’s killer probably had his or her conscience bricked up behind a wall of their reasons, however spurious and ill-conceived
their justification for murder
. Once they had decided on Comstock’s guilt, the rest had followed logically. Justice demanded that they cull the predator hiding in the herd
if the police would not do it
.

If Comstock were proved innocent, g
uilt might eventually bleed through to them, but it was too late now. Their actions had put them on the wrong side of moral society.

And f
inding the guilty party would only lead to more tragedy
because killers had families too
.

“W
ell, I need to get to the booth
and integrate some
of my leftover
summer stock
. I’m glad something about the fair has gone well
,
”
she said when she was done with her report
and brooding
.

“I’ll see you in a bit. I’ve got to start collecting statements
before people leave town
. Two retired deputies are coming in to help, but it is still going to be a long day.”
He sighed
, looking at his trebuchet which was jammed in the corner of the office
. “You know, I
wish we were at your place having
a tuna sandwich.”

“I bet.
I wish it too.
” Juliet smiled in sympathy.
Garret wouldn’t be able to finish the punkin chunkin competition. Even if he had time, it would look all wrong for him to be doing anything frivolous when a killer was on the loose.
It was a shame
,
and something else to lay at the killer’s door.

“Thanks to
you, I at least have a starting place to begin sifting the haystack looking for our needle.”

“
Right.
We need to c
heer up. I may yet stumble on something
that will narrow things down even more
.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

Juliet wasn’t as confident as Garret but made herself smile.

“By the way? Does anyone in town offer basic self-defense courses? I am trying to convince Rose to take one with me.”

Garret looked concerned.

“There’s one on Thur
s
day nights at the church. But, Juliet, if you are worried I could certainly teach you
—
“

“No. It isn’t that. I just think it would help Rose to be less nervous.”

The fair looked
outwardly
the same though it felt different. The sun was out, but only for a while and
sinister
shadows lined the folds of the mountains and lingered in the nearby forest. It bothered Juliet to see a raven sitt
ing in the trees that had held
Comstock’s balloons. Though not superstitious, she had come to view the ravens as a sign that murder had happened, living markers of heinous outrage. The residuum of the dead, even after the body was taken away, was persistent. Whether it was lingering emotion or memory, or an actual troubled ghost, there seemed to be an extra shadow l
oit
ering around the stable
s
.
The ravens made it manifest.

Once in her booth,
chair stabilized,
cupcake
and coffee
consumed,
Juliet
got out a small sketch pad and began drawing out the layout of the fair
tent
s
and attractions
. She wanted to know who could have seen the balloon man slipping off to the stables and if anyone had followed him. She had no proof, but from where the body had been found, she had a feeling that he had been pushed from behind.
As she had told Raphael and Esteban, t
hat
shove
probably meant that the killer had followed him.