4 Impression of Bones (15 page)

Juliet made an effort to appear genial but it was difficult
when she felt like people were walking over her grave. She didn’t know most of
them, but even among the artists there were some bad hats and only the Shadow
knew what evil lurked in the hearts of her fellow men.
And
women.

She also wanted out of her heels. Another hour with her hips
and back in
lordosis
and she would need a
chiropractor. The clothing was necessary though. It was
a
transference
of power and professionalism from her old life to her new
one. The leopard needed her spots. It was her body armor.

She had squandered some energy on a fast tour because it had
seemed important to walk over the castle and see the other artists before the
public arrived and began inflicting themselves on the old stones. She had even
been to the top of the tower to see the new garden they had planted the day before.
The few annuals in barrels wouldn’t last without some kind of shade and water,
since the Santa Ana winds were blowing and sucking the life out of everything.
But no one was thinking much beyond the open house. Juliet dumped what was left
of her bottle of water on them but it had beaded on the dry potting soil and
then disappeared under the lash of the wind without ever reaching the roots.
Juliet did not linger.

A screeching child ran by and started up the tower stairs.
She supposed she should follow to make sure that neither the child nor her
hangings came to harm, but she was reluctant to leave her post where she had a
clear view of the entrance to the great hall.

Children…. Juliet was philosophically opposed to the modern
idea that children should be welcomed everywhere. Events with champagne—however
cheap—and caviar—even cheaper—should not include small people who flung
crackers and cereal at one another and who shrieked for no reason except to
enjoy the loud echoes of their voices. It seemed like their cries made the
giant chandelier cobbled together of brass oil lamps shiver in its tethers. The
giant chains that held it up were massive, but they didn’t seem strong enough
once the lamps began swaying.

Weston was there, sober but sneering, a little black
raincloud that everyone instinctively avoided. His presence effectively damped
what little enthusiasm there had been for this opening night party among the
artists and contractors.

Manoogin was little better, strolling about with an aura of
anticipatory gloom as he overlooked the cast of extras that were littering up
this drama, taking inventory of their characters and then dismissing them from
consideration. In her own way Juliet did this too; she just hoped that she
wasn’t so obvious about it.

Juliet wasn’t eating any of the strange
hors d’oeuvres
the caterers urged upon her. She was not so
destitute that she had to grab a free meal when one was available and the
heat-wilted cheese looked suspect to her. She liked her food to have a bit of
life left in it. Besides, Raphael had promised her and Esteban a spectacular
meal when the open house was over; she owed it a good appetite. She did carry a
small plate and napkin for protective coloring as she moved among the crowds,
looking and listening for signs of her quarry.

The conversation wasn’t even interesting to eavesdrop on.
None of the guests knew anything and the artists weren’t talking much. Death
hadn’t conferred sainthood on Dolph but no one was going to say much about what
they had really thought about him as long as the cameras were around. There was
a lot of
such a tragedy
and
what a loss
.

Sandra Kane sidled up to Juliet. She had swathed herself in
layers upon layers of cream and yellow chiffon whose various V and scoop
necklines made for a strange
décolleté
.
She was even wearing what looked like green bloomers but was probably the
bottom half of a belly dancer’s costume. Her hair was moussed to its full
height giving it the appearance of roots and she looked like an inverted green
onion. She also began to sweat as she moved closer to the unnecessary fire that
had been kindled in the massive hearth. It burned as cheerily as any in hell
and Juliet hoped Sandra didn’t stray too close. A stray spark could send her highly
flammable outfit up like a Roman candle.

“I—I’m having some doubts about the dining room. I’m not
sure that people get it,” Sandra confessed. She started to run a hand through
her hair but stopped. That was probably best because her hedgehog was already
looking agitated.

“But why?”
Juliet asked, hoping to
forestall an artistic crisis before a full meltdown ensued. “I think the table
looks like burnished armor and nothing could be more appropriate in a castle.
And, frankly, I don’t think this is a crowd that is going to
get
anything.”

“Really?”
She seemed to brighten.
“They do seem to be …
regular
.”

“Oh yes, very regular.
The dining
room is wonderful.”

A lie of that magnitude required the crossing of more fingers
and toes than Juliet possessed, so she didn’t even try. She just hoped she wouldn’t
be struck dead by the gods of art and armor.

Juliet moved toward the dining room and the buffet
laid
out there though she didn’t really want anything to
eat. Esteban and Raphael joined Juliet as soon as Sandra had moved away enough
for them not to be overheard. Esteban and Raphael instantly improved the
scenery. It was wonderful not to be alone.

“
Bella
, you look
worried,” Esteban said.

“I’m feeling fey. The killer is probably here somewhere, doing
heaven only knows what, but I haven’t seen a single sign. I hope Manoogin has
posted someone in the wine cellar. The door is locked but she may have a key.
Or another hanger.”
She didn’t mention a name. Esteban,
Raphael, and
Manoogin
knew the murderer’s identity
and were waiting for the chance to make an arrest. Hopefully out of sight of
the TV cameras that had filmed everything, even the tower room, though the
tapestry covered the outline of Cornelia’s bricked-up body.

Juliet didn’t want to see the capture. As far as she was
concerned her job had ended with solving the crime and imparting the facts to
the police. She had walked them to the starting gate and they should be able to
run the race without her. But she also knew that the snowball the killer had
sent tumbling down on them was gaining size and speed. Rage and ego had fueled
the killings and there was always a chance that it wasn’t over. A woman scorned
was a frightening thing. An artist swindled of fame was even worse. And when it
was both, and the killer-victim was an egomaniac, there was no knowing who else
might be caught in the storm before it all finally ended.

“Have you been in the kitchens?” Raphael asked.

“Not since the caterers got here.” They were using the
wood-fire oven for making artisanal breads which they weren’t actually serving.
The air conditioning had not yet been installed and the room was like a
cookhouse in hell.

“There she is,” Juliet said before Raphael answered, staring
at the crowded hallway that led past the kitchen and to the courtyard. “She
came in the back way. I didn’t really think she would come at all, though
staying away would have called attention her way.”

“I shall tell Manoogin. Best to get this over with,” Esteban
said, easing through the crowds in the opposite direction.

“Go,” Raphael said when Juliet hesitated. It was difficult
for him to move easily through the noshing throngs. “Keep her in sight. But
Juliet—”

“I know. I don’t plan on getting that close.”

Juliet had to push her way through the crowd in the great hall
which seemed to be growing by the hour. Someone had tried to decorate the
austere stairs of the tower by setting up an elephant-foot umbrella stand—ceramic,
not real—filled with a clump of pampas grass. The children had been liberating the
stalks all day to use as makeshift wings, so little of it remained in the vase.
Juliet had a good view of her quarry disappearing up the circling stairs.

She was filled with foreboding, though it was unlikely that
there would be anyone else in the tower, and in a way it was the perfect place
for Manoogin to make his arrest. And she could remain safely at the base of the
stairs and wait for her prey to come back down.

Only why was she going up there? What could be in the tower
to attract a killer? Could there be some other secret passage built into the
four-foot-thick walls that Juliet hadn’t found which the killer wanted to use?
Or, worse, could she have made some kind of assignation with another victim who
was already up there and waiting?

Where was
Dolph’s
fiancée? She had
been in the great hall ten minutes before.

“Damn it,” Juliet said, kicking off her heels and setting
them on the first step where they listed to one side. They could end up stolen,
she realized as she mounted the twisting stairs, but she needed to leave some
kind of breadcrumb for Manoogin and Esteban to follow. She would stay well back
from the killer, stay quiet. She would only intervene if there was someone in
physical danger.

It was the longest climb Juliet had ever completed. Dread
had sapped her strength and made her feet leaden. Juliet felt a moment of
relief when she realized that the killer was bypassing her meditation room and
heading for the roof garden. There wasn’t another hidden chamber in the tower
room. No secret stairs.
Only a rusted fire escape which only
a suicidal person would use.

A sort of fatalism settled over her as she realized what the
killer planned to do. She didn’t hurry any longer. If she missed the next part,
it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. There was a faster way out of the
tower than using the rusting fire escape.

The trapdoor was open letting in a brutal shaft of light.
Juliet emerged cautiously. She doubted that the killer was waiting to bash her
head in since she had had nothing to do with Dolph’s philandering or project
mismanagement, but doubt was not certainty. She had promised Raphael that she
would be careful.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Juliet asked softly as
she saw the woman standing between two crenellations and leaning slightly
outward. She knew it was a pointless question since things had gone past
prayers and entreaties, anger counseling and the advice of friends.

“The police know about me. I think it was because of the
watch. They are asking questions now. It’s only a matter of time before they
know. Before everyone knows.”

The watch and the sawdust from the wine
racks.
It was the only redwood being used in the castle. Julia had
cleaned up the old morgue until it could be used as a surgical arena, but she
had neglected to shake out her work clothes and traces had been left on Dolph’s
body when she dragged him onto the dining room table.

“They are looking for me downstairs and….” She turned her
head and considered the sun. Juliet suspected that she had been waiting for a
witness, so she didn’t look away. “You know, I thought we’d get married—have
children. I would open a small studio. It could have been perfect….” Julia
Mannering whispered, not answering Juliet’s question of intent directly. The
wind carried her soft words to
Juliet,
otherwise she
wouldn’t have heard them. “She did it on purpose. Stephanie knew he was with me
but she seduced him anyway. Friends aren’t supposed to do that.”

“No, they’re not.”

“He wouldn’t let me finish the wine cellar the way we had
planned. He gave the money to Stephanie for marble in her bathroom. He said there
wasn’t any more.” And it was human nature to believe that it was being cheated
rather than that the trough had really run dry.

Juliet had a moment of compassion but also exasperation that
people had died all because Julia Mannering hadn’t been bright enough to see
that men like Dolph never viewed
themselves
in such a
domestic way. There was no room in their hearts and lives for another selfish
being that would distract a woman’s care and attention from themselves.

And her monstrous ego had demanded revenge of the harshest
kind.

Behind her, she heard someone coming up the stair.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to think this over? A jury
might understand.” Juliet felt compelled to say this though she knew it was
useless and didn’t really think much of the idea anyway. Julia had a much
better solution.

“No, I’m sure.”

And with that Julia Mannering stepped off the tower wall.

“Are you alright?” Raphael asked her. They were gathered in
his bungalow surrounded by cartons of Chinese take-out.

“Yes.” And she was.

Their dinner had been delayed several hours as the law had
worked its infinitely slow way through the mechanics of after-death clean-up.