clean
rock. The ground was slimy with goose droppings. “The body will probably be
weighted.”
The odorous pond had been shrinking and at that point was no
more than twenty feet across. The rebar was about eleven feet long. It wasn’t
enough to drag the entire bottom of the pond since it sloped at about a twenty
degree angle but it would get close. And it didn’t seem likely that the killer
had waded out into the middle of the muck to dispose of the corpse.
“Start over there,” Juliet said, pointing. The water seemed
completely calm but the detritus and algae had gathered on one side, suggesting
there was some underwater current. It was also the side closest to the fence.
“It isn’t the best place to hide a body. Not permanently,”
Raphael said.
Manoogin stayed quiet.
Esteban removed his shirt, folded it tidily, and then cast the
hook into the water. The pole brought up nothing but rotting sludge.
“I don’t think the killing was planned,” Juliet said. “And
the murderer wanted a place to hide the corpses away from the castle at least
for a while. Someplace that the vultures wouldn’t find. At a guess, I would say they were ultimately headed for the old cemetery. The
ground would be easier to dig and one wouldn’t have to run the risk of being
found with a body in the trunk of a car.”
“Corpses?” Manoogin finally spoke. “More than one?”
“I think Dolph would have ended up here too if there had
been more time. Sandra spoiled things by showing up early from lunch. She’s
lucky the killer didn’t have it in for her as well.”
Esteban cast the hook again. Under other circumstances
Juliet would have enjoyed watching him work. The scars on his torso did nothing
to detract from his beauty and he moved with an efficiency that bordered on
grace. She wondered if Raphael was also wishing he had a sketch book on hand.
Manoogin had noticed the scars, but he said nothing about
them. He would have had Esteban’s biography by then and known what each bullet
hole meant.
“I’ve noticed that you are a little focused when you work,”
Manoogin said at last. The tone was conversational and Juliet was grateful that
he wasn’t the type to show a lot of unrest and emotion.
Juliet had been told that she went so dead in the face when
she communed with her inner oracle that she looked like something attacked by
the Medusa.
“You take the good with the bad,” she said, shrugging. She
didn’t want to talk about her methodologies. Her new life was supposed to be a
refuge, a garden she cultivated for her crushed spirit. It pissed her off that
murders kept cluttering it up. How was she ever going to regrow her soul?
Except she was regrowing it. Slowly, unevenly, but her spirit was healing in the quiet, with her
art and with her friends.
“Build thee more stately mansions, o my soul,” she said to
herself.
Manoogin would not understand, but Raphael would. Did. He
had had to rebuild his life too.
“ Revenge, or money?” Raphael asked.
“Revenge. Mostly. But I think money played a part too.”
“It’s a shame that really complete revenge almost always
involves a body count. Most people simply aren’t that inventive.”
Juliet nodded agreement.
“As we all know, Dolph was into casual sex. The trouble was
that he forgot to mention this to his partners. Some women and men, even in
this day and age, don’t do casual anything. Not relationships, not investments. And especially not the two together. Artists, though I
hate to say this, are especially emotional and this time he picked the wrong
woman to scorn. Dolph probably never realized that he had entered into a
non-survivable relationship. He was unobservant that way. If he had guessed, he
would have gone down fighting instead of to an ambush.”
Juliet didn’t say anything more about Dolph or the women he had
been involved with. It would have been redundant.
“So, we are looking at a female killer?” Manoogin asked.
“Probably. Though
rock. The ground was slimy with goose droppings. “The body will probably be
weighted.”
The odorous pond had been shrinking and at that point was no
more than twenty feet across. The rebar was about eleven feet long. It wasn’t
enough to drag the entire bottom of the pond since it sloped at about a twenty
degree angle but it would get close. And it didn’t seem likely that the killer
had waded out into the middle of the muck to dispose of the corpse.
“Start over there,” Juliet said, pointing. The water seemed
completely calm but the detritus and algae had gathered on one side, suggesting
there was some underwater current. It was also the side closest to the fence.
“It isn’t the best place to hide a body. Not permanently,”
Raphael said.
Manoogin stayed quiet.
Esteban removed his shirt, folded it tidily, and then cast the
hook into the water. The pole brought up nothing but rotting sludge.
“I don’t think the killing was planned,” Juliet said. “And
the murderer wanted a place to hide the corpses away from the castle at least
for a while. Someplace that the vultures wouldn’t find. At a guess, I would say they were ultimately headed for the old cemetery. The
ground would be easier to dig and one wouldn’t have to run the risk of being
found with a body in the trunk of a car.”
“Corpses?” Manoogin finally spoke. “More than one?”
“I think Dolph would have ended up here too if there had
been more time. Sandra spoiled things by showing up early from lunch. She’s
lucky the killer didn’t have it in for her as well.”
Esteban cast the hook again. Under other circumstances
Juliet would have enjoyed watching him work. The scars on his torso did nothing
to detract from his beauty and he moved with an efficiency that bordered on
grace. She wondered if Raphael was also wishing he had a sketch book on hand.
Manoogin had noticed the scars, but he said nothing about
them. He would have had Esteban’s biography by then and known what each bullet
hole meant.
“I’ve noticed that you are a little focused when you work,”
Manoogin said at last. The tone was conversational and Juliet was grateful that
he wasn’t the type to show a lot of unrest and emotion.
Juliet had been told that she went so dead in the face when
she communed with her inner oracle that she looked like something attacked by
the Medusa.
“You take the good with the bad,” she said, shrugging. She
didn’t want to talk about her methodologies. Her new life was supposed to be a
refuge, a garden she cultivated for her crushed spirit. It pissed her off that
murders kept cluttering it up. How was she ever going to regrow her soul?
Except she was regrowing it. Slowly, unevenly, but her spirit was healing in the quiet, with her
art and with her friends.
“Build thee more stately mansions, o my soul,” she said to
herself.
Manoogin would not understand, but Raphael would. Did. He
had had to rebuild his life too.
“ Revenge, or money?” Raphael asked.
“Revenge. Mostly. But I think money played a part too.”
“It’s a shame that really complete revenge almost always
involves a body count. Most people simply aren’t that inventive.”
Juliet nodded agreement.
“As we all know, Dolph was into casual sex. The trouble was
that he forgot to mention this to his partners. Some women and men, even in
this day and age, don’t do casual anything. Not relationships, not investments. And especially not the two together. Artists, though I
hate to say this, are especially emotional and this time he picked the wrong
woman to scorn. Dolph probably never realized that he had entered into a
non-survivable relationship. He was unobservant that way. If he had guessed, he
would have gone down fighting instead of to an ambush.”
Juliet didn’t say anything more about Dolph or the women he had
been involved with. It would have been redundant.
“So, we are looking at a female killer?” Manoogin asked.
“Probably. Though
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