The Phantom Photographer: Murder in Marin Mystery - Book 3 (Murder in Marin Mysteries) (17 page)

“Could we meet here next Monday at this time for coffee and you could show me the contact sheets then?”

“Sure, that would work. I promised Walt that I’d stop by the camera shop around four, so I better get going. But I will see you here next Monday at three.”

With that, Michael thrust his hand forward. Juliette rose, took it, and knowing he was miffed, warmly said, “I hope you know how much I appreciate your help. You’ve been very generous with your time, and I’m looking forward to seeing those contact sheets.”

A couple of quick smiles, a few brief pleasantries, and the two went their separate ways. She, thinking how ridiculous he was to imagine she would consider going on a date with him; while he anticipated the look of panic on her face when she discovered among those contact sheets a half dozen photos of her at play with her sister’s husband.
 

Michael first printed the contact sheets showing all the photos he had taken of Juliette and her students. He allowed those sheets to dry and slipped them into an envelope, without pausing for a moment to take out his photographer’s loupe to consider which photos he would recommend for her portfolio. The pretense of the caring friend, after days of additional thought and reflection upon the deceptive nature of women, had been completely set aside. All his attention was now placed on the quality of prints he would present when next they met at the Depot. He thought about the look of horror that would come over her. Undoubtedly, her pain should go a good way to relieving what he viewed as his humiliation at her hands.
 

The week passed quickly. Juliette carefully chose a more subdued outfit for their second encounter. Wearing a dark blue skirt with a matching jacket and a soft blue cashmere turtleneck, she could have easily been mistaken for a bank branch manager. In fact, Michael recalled observing Shelia Grimes one afternoon wearing a similar outfit as she sat behind her desk at the Novato Savings Bank.
 

Michael began by taking out three contact sheets filled with images that were approximately one inch by one inch. Juliette struggled as she held each sheet up to the narrow beam of sunlight that was shining through a window behind their table.
 

“You wouldn’t happen to have one of those photographer’s, oh what do they call it?”

“Loupe, a photographer’s loupe. No, when I got here I realized I left mine back at the camera shop. But, no worries, you can hold up a magnifying glass to the images and do much the same thing. Just give me the page number and then the photo number and I’ll print out an eight by ten image for you. They’ll just be three dollars apiece, approximately what the developing chemicals and paper costs are for the shop.”

“Oh, okay,” Juliette replied, noticing all the kindness she had previously heard in Michael’s voice had vanished.
 

“I do have some eight by ten prints that I took of you a few weeks ago. I don’t think you’d want to show them to a prospective employer, but they’re great shots, and I know you’re going to want to share them with that wonderful guy you mentioned when we were here last week. They’re inside this same envelope,” Michael said, as he placed it face down. “They’re kind of personal, so when you take them out make sure there is no one looking over your shoulder.”
 

Confused and intimidated by what she had just heard, Juliette’s hand shook slightly as she reached inside the envelope. If Michael knew whom she was thinking of when she spoke of her wonderful guy, that alone was deeply troubling.
 

“You seem a little nervous, as though you have something to hide,” Michael said, channeling the joyful anticipation of a fox that had found its way into the hen house.

Juliette dismissed the anxious bolt that raced from the back of her neck down to the tip of her toes. Could he possibly know about her affair with her brother-in-law? Ridiculous, she insisted to herself, as she peeked at the top picture. The image of her orally pleasuring Herb made her gasp. She forced herself to peek at the two other photos, while keeping them safely tucked inside the envelope. One showed Herb standing over her with a raised riding crop, and the last showed them curled around each other, comfortably wrapped in plush white cotton robes, holding snifters of brandy, as if enjoying a relaxing afternoon at home. Nothing particularly troubling about this last image, if one set aside the fact that the man she’s sharing a post coital moment with was her sister’s husband.

The simple truth was, this was nothing short of a disaster, in more ways than she could imagine in a few fleeting moments. Feeling both confused and desperate, without uttering a word, Juliette got up from the table and walked into the plaza outside the coffee shop.
 

Carrying the envelope containing the contact sheets she had expected and the photographs she never imagined existed, she sat under a tree and stared at the ordinary lives that surrounded her. There were two old men engaged in a serious game of chess, as two of their contemporaries closely watched their every move. There were several children, younger than her fourth and fifth graders, playing a game of tag, and adults on various chairs and benches, enjoying a drink, a book, each other, and the abundant sunshine. At that moment, she would have traded places with any one of them.

Blood rushed to her heart as panic took hold of her. Quickly, her hands and feet became ice cold. At least for the moment, she could not hold in her mind a single thought that might offer her some salvation. Michael watched from a respectful distance. Even from where he stood, he could tell that she was overwhelmed. Slowly, he moved toward her and sat down on the opposite side of the bench.

“When you’re ready,” Michael said softly, “we need to talk.”

“I don’t know what to say, and I have no idea what to do.”

“Well, you know what they say; it’s always darkest before the dawn.”

“Why would you do this to me?”

“I think this is more a matter of what you and your wonderful guy did to your sister.”

“I suppose you’re enjoying this. But why would you want to ruin me, ruin Herb, ruin his marriage?”

“Juliette, this is just business for me. People like you and Herb do stupid things like this, and people like me benefit from your mistakes.”

“How do you mean benefit?”

“Money, Juliette.”

“What money do you think I have?”

“My God, you must be spending too much time around those students of yours. Not your money, your wonderful guy’s money.”

With a mixture of anger and humiliation flashing over her face, Juliette’s eyes turned cold, and in a low but furious tone she asked, “Then why come to me? If it’s money you want, shouldn’t you be making your deal with Herb?”

“I don’t know if this occurred to you, but you’re the only one I could approach. Suzette, your sister, would have likely gone nuclear when she saw these photos, can’t blame her for that, and Herb, well he’s such a big guy around town, why would he take a meeting with me? Juliette, you’re what a tactician would call, the soft underbelly of the beast.”

“So you’re using me to get to him?”

“There you go. You’re really not as innocent as you like to pretend.”

Juliette’s face turned red; one of the stages of anger and embarrassment that Michael was accustomed to by now. She desperately wanted to strike at her tormentor. Michael knew this and it delighted him. He felt ashamed to think he might have set all his good work aside if they had fallen into a relationship together. Never again would he allow himself to take his eye off the prize.
 

After a period of silence between them, Juliette looked in his direction and in a flat cold tone simply asked, “What should I tell Herb?”

“Tell him we’ve got a problem. Show him the photos I’ve got and let him know that these are only three images of more than a dozen. I’m looking for an interested party to take them off my hands, so I’m coming to him first. If he’s not interested, I’m sure there are others who are.”

“And…”

“Well, hopefully we can work out a deal. Obviously, there are many interested parties. Suzette, or her divorce attorney, some of Herb’s competitors, perhaps a political opponent, and certainly the
Marin Independent Journal
, are just some of the players who would highly value this work. It’s a helluva story. Herb, the likely candidate to win a seat on the county’s board of supervisors, the CEO of one of the county’s most successful businesses brought low by a tawdry sex scandal. What a disaster. I’m sure Herb and I will be able to work something out.”

“I hope you know that Herb has a dark side.”

“I think the photos I took show that pretty clearly.”

“He might want to kill you.”

“Couldn’t blame him for that, but don’t think this is at all new to me. The moment I go missing, or turn up dead, I have a pal who sends a fat package of photos to the editor at the
Independent Journal
. Now, on top of Herb’s marriage, business, and community standing being trashed, he’s facing a murder rap. Trust me, Juliette, you might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but your wonderful guy isn’t all that dumb. Here’s my card. Tell him he has seventy-two hours to reach out to me. After that, well, as they say, these photos will belong to the ages. And, honestly, you’ve only seen some of what I caught. That Herb of yours is one lucky guy to have you for a playmate.”

Juliette, a woman who took her faith seriously, might have put it all aside at that moment if she was holding a handgun and had any idea how to use it. The numbness had vanished from her extremities. She breathed deeply, reflected more objectively on the moment, and fantasized the delight she would feel seeing Michael sprawled on the ground gasping for one final breath.
 

“I’ll speak to him. I’m sure he’ll be in touch,” she said.

“Good, before you know it, you’ll be on top of that massage table, and he’ll be back in those cute little red bikini briefs, holding a riding crop, and ready to play.”

The anger prompted by his sadistic joy overwhelmed her and in a low growl she said, “I hope you burn in hell.”

“Well, I’m not sure if there is a hell. But if you’re right I’m sure you and Herb will be right there beside me.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Juliette drove home with a throbbing headache. In a daze, she pulled into the driveway of the bungalow cottage she rented, located behind a home near the corner of Locust and Elm. Robotically, she walked into her snug bedroom, which only twice she had used as a rendezvous with her lover, for fear that her landlady’s prying eyes might see one of the town’s better known citizens coming to visit his sister-in-law unaccompanied by his wife.
 

She threw herself on her bed and sobbed for a long time. Later, she dragged herself toward her refrigerator, where there was a very cold bottle of Riesling wine awaiting her. Juliette needed, if only for a few moments, to escape into that wine’s crisp sweet embrace.

In search of a corkscrew, she went into the old cabinet drawer that hung under the narrow counter that served as the kitchen’s food prep area. Amazed when she first saw the limited space of the cottage’s kitchen, her mother declared, “If you ever have a man over here, you two would have to get married before cooking a meal together.”
 

Juliette’s mother, a woman of good social pedigree, claimed that she could trace her lineage back to the noble pilgrims who stepped upon Plymouth Rock. “We may not be native Americans, but we’re certainly the next closest thing!” she often reminded her youngest daughter.

Sweet Jesus, Juliette muttered to herself. How could she doubt for a moment that her mother, father, sister, uncles, aunts, cousins and all the saints in heaven would not disown her for the erotic fantasies she had shared with her brother-in-law? Most importantly, she knew that there was no such thing as keeping a secret from God.
   

In addition to that corkscrew she had gone in search for, she removed from the drawer a knife of great value, a Zwilling J. A. Henckels carbon steel blade. This was an instrument that could make fast work of slicing open a wrist quickly with a minimum of effort and hopefully little pain. With a glass of wine to soothe her nerves, she walked trance-like toward the bathroom. There, she kneeled down before an ancient claw-footed tub and turned on a mix of hot and cold water. Soon, she told herself, this disaster would be behind her.