sign of a break-in?”
“No. There weren’t any clothes or linens inside. I assume
the sheriff took them?”
“Yes, we have all of them here in the evidence room.”
“Do you know if the sheriff also took the check—the one in
the red frame?”
“I—I don’t think so. There wasn’t any chance of getting DNA
evidence off of it so probably not.”
“Well, mention to the sheriff that the check is missing,
okay? I’ll talk to him in the morning if he has questions. It’s late and I’m
going to bed soon.”
“Okay. Goodnight then. You aren’t worried are you, Miss
Juliet?”
“About the intruder? No. I’m fine.
Goodnight, Deputy.”
“Were you lying?” Esteban asked as she turned off the phone
and slid it back into her bag.
“No. I’m not worried.” Juliet had a gun and was competent
with it. Her boss had insisted that all his employees carry firearms and had
paid their monthly range fees. She hadn’t had the gun out in over a year, but
Juliet didn’t think that her skills had deteriorated all that much.
“I meant about being tired and going to bed?”
“No, I meant that too. As soon as we finish our tea I am
throwing you out and getting some sleep.”
“Fair enough,” he said, but she thought she heard him sigh.
* * *
On the west side of the mountain giant boulders dammed some
pockets of soil where plants grew, but the mountain became balder the higher
you climbed and rocks became larger and less negotiable in sneakers. They had
once been sharp upthrusts . Broken into red blades by
great earthquakes, but they had been fretted to blunt lumps by millennium of
wind and rain. There was beauty there, but it was sere and there was less of it every day as summer bore down on them and the plants
set seed and then died.
Though she still wanted to talk to her neighbors, Juliet had
some work that needed completing. It was a bother to set up the silk-screens
for making t-shirts, so she wanted all her images chosen before she made the
effort. But she would need to start soon. Memorial Day was only three weeks
away.
Juliet decided to leave the compound and head toward town
where the occasional fog made everything moister and greener. She eventually found
a shady cloister by the creek where one of the rare native lady’s slippers
bloomed. The banks were overgrown with brambles, which was part of the charm, and what sun leaked through the trees threw nets of gold
into the rippling water. The smell of the forest was strong. It always was
after a hard rain.
The colors were muted out of the sunlight though, and they
would need to be goosed if she decided to put this on a t-shirt. It was a
lovely tableau in every other way, the green fern and water drops still
clinging to the flower petals. Maybe it was a little static, and a little plain
without some shadows to add depth and interest, but it would do well enough
with some embellishment which could be added later.
She sat for a while on a slab of stone, performing the
difficult exercise of not thinking and instead just listening to the small
sounds of the forest and stream. Everyone talked about the woods being silent,
but actually the forest never was. It simply didn’t have the human sounds that
people think of as noise .
Feeling more peaceful, she set her easel up carefully on the
uneven ground and began to sketch. She had blocked in the stem and one blossom when
the other flower shook violently and out shot a bumble bee, legs heavy with
pollen, fat body listing to the left as it chugged away. Juliet chuckled. That
was what was needed to add a touch of whimsy to her painting—a bumble bee.
Her seat was fairly close to the road so she was not
surprised when Sheriff Garret spotted her easel and stopped to talk to her.
“Juliet,” he said. “Henderson said you called last night.”
“Sheriff. Off to look at Harvey’s
bungalow? I’m afraid there isn’t much left of the ash on the desk and by now
the smell is long
“No. There weren’t any clothes or linens inside. I assume
the sheriff took them?”
“Yes, we have all of them here in the evidence room.”
“Do you know if the sheriff also took the check—the one in
the red frame?”
“I—I don’t think so. There wasn’t any chance of getting DNA
evidence off of it so probably not.”
“Well, mention to the sheriff that the check is missing,
okay? I’ll talk to him in the morning if he has questions. It’s late and I’m
going to bed soon.”
“Okay. Goodnight then. You aren’t worried are you, Miss
Juliet?”
“About the intruder? No. I’m fine.
Goodnight, Deputy.”
“Were you lying?” Esteban asked as she turned off the phone
and slid it back into her bag.
“No. I’m not worried.” Juliet had a gun and was competent
with it. Her boss had insisted that all his employees carry firearms and had
paid their monthly range fees. She hadn’t had the gun out in over a year, but
Juliet didn’t think that her skills had deteriorated all that much.
“I meant about being tired and going to bed?”
“No, I meant that too. As soon as we finish our tea I am
throwing you out and getting some sleep.”
“Fair enough,” he said, but she thought she heard him sigh.
* * *
On the west side of the mountain giant boulders dammed some
pockets of soil where plants grew, but the mountain became balder the higher
you climbed and rocks became larger and less negotiable in sneakers. They had
once been sharp upthrusts . Broken into red blades by
great earthquakes, but they had been fretted to blunt lumps by millennium of
wind and rain. There was beauty there, but it was sere and there was less of it every day as summer bore down on them and the plants
set seed and then died.
Though she still wanted to talk to her neighbors, Juliet had
some work that needed completing. It was a bother to set up the silk-screens
for making t-shirts, so she wanted all her images chosen before she made the
effort. But she would need to start soon. Memorial Day was only three weeks
away.
Juliet decided to leave the compound and head toward town
where the occasional fog made everything moister and greener. She eventually found
a shady cloister by the creek where one of the rare native lady’s slippers
bloomed. The banks were overgrown with brambles, which was part of the charm, and what sun leaked through the trees threw nets of gold
into the rippling water. The smell of the forest was strong. It always was
after a hard rain.
The colors were muted out of the sunlight though, and they
would need to be goosed if she decided to put this on a t-shirt. It was a
lovely tableau in every other way, the green fern and water drops still
clinging to the flower petals. Maybe it was a little static, and a little plain
without some shadows to add depth and interest, but it would do well enough
with some embellishment which could be added later.
She sat for a while on a slab of stone, performing the
difficult exercise of not thinking and instead just listening to the small
sounds of the forest and stream. Everyone talked about the woods being silent,
but actually the forest never was. It simply didn’t have the human sounds that
people think of as noise .
Feeling more peaceful, she set her easel up carefully on the
uneven ground and began to sketch. She had blocked in the stem and one blossom when
the other flower shook violently and out shot a bumble bee, legs heavy with
pollen, fat body listing to the left as it chugged away. Juliet chuckled. That
was what was needed to add a touch of whimsy to her painting—a bumble bee.
Her seat was fairly close to the road so she was not
surprised when Sheriff Garret spotted her easel and stopped to talk to her.
“Juliet,” he said. “Henderson said you called last night.”
“Sheriff. Off to look at Harvey’s
bungalow? I’m afraid there isn’t much left of the ash on the desk and by now
the smell is long
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