1 Portrait of a Gossip
Page 13
“And all the time he was watching the outside for danger it was already inside with him,” Garret said softly.
Juliet nodded.
“I think the final straw might have been Harvey cornering her at one of Elizabeth’s teas and telling Jillian about her husband’s affair, forcing her to see something she wanted to ignore. I wasn’t there but Asher says he made her cry and that Jake had to be restrained from beating him up.”
“Why? I mean why do it?” Garret asked.
Esteban, who had said little, was also interested in this question.
“He was a spiteful monster, and I’m betting that this was after Jake refused to pay any blackmail. This is when Jillian broke. I think that making her face the fact of Jake’s affair with Carrie Simmons violated the picture she carried in her mind. It was an inaccurate picture of her life as so many of our self-portraits are, but it was sacred, her rock. Marriage to Jake, their collaborative partnership, was all she had once her brother was gone. Some people can struggle and strive and overcome adversity, but others can’t.” Juliet did not look at Raphael or Esteban. “The vicious gossip had ruined everything in her life and he had to die. And, though I hate to admit it, a part of me understands this.”
“But, Jake had a part in this.”
“Yes, Jake came along at an opportune moment. If he had left Jillian alone she might have talked herself out of making the attempt to move Harvey’s body. After all, the storm was coming on and Jillian was very afraid of lightning. I think she would have been ready to tell the world what she’d done and damn our eyes if we blamed her for ridding the planet of a pernicious monster. But Jake did come along and he could see their carefully constructed—and lucrative—partnership coming to an end, their books boycotted by parents, because who wants their kids reading books illustrated by a murderer? They’d never be published again. Stores might even pull old books off the shelves. And how could Jake go on living among us if his wife was known as a killer?” Juliet didn’t need to explain that the rent on the cottages was very low because Mr. Biggers believed in patronizing the arts and also in tax write-offs.
“At Jake’s urging, they decided to try for a cover-up. I think Jake either didn’t know that Harvey had told Jillian about the affair, or maybe he thought that by helping her with her revenge on her brother’s nemesis he would regain her trust and forgiveness. In any event, he was there to help with the cover-up. For all the good it did. They got rid of the computer, Harvey’s cell, the gun, binoculars, and the parabolic mike, but in the end the storm defeated them when it came to moving the body. That’s when Jake twisted his ankle.”
Garret, noticing the catch in her voice, poured Juliet some water and passed it to her.
“Thanks.” She took a few soothing sips. “Though Jake had helped her with Harvey, in the end Jillian couldn’t forgive him for the affair—especially when Carrie wouldn’t let him break it off. As Virginia Wolfe said: scratch a woman, find a rage. Jillian had had it and when luck offered her a way out, she made other arrangements. She decided that she was going to be illustrating books for a much more famous author and Jake could go hang.
“But I have to wonder if her conscience had begun to prey on her. Maybe she was beginning to talk to Jake about confessing, or making reparation in some way. We will never know, I guess, if she eventually regretted the killing.” Juliet shook her head. “So, there was Jake, caught between the devil of a wronged wife—with a large insurance policy, yes?” She looked at Garret who nodded. “—and the deep blue sea of Carrie Simmons’ eternal neediness and possible suspicion about who killed Harvey, Jake decided to find another way out. He decided that he would rather be the tragic widower—and enjoy all the insurance money by himself. The sympathy and sensationalism of the right stories in the press might even give a bump to book sales.”
“Ah.” Garret nodded.
“The fire provided the perfect opportunity. General confusion, an evacuation, the compound all but empty so there were no witnesses—you see, he didn’t know that Raphael and Esteban had returned when they realized that not everyone was in town and that no one had rescued my cat,” she added and then did smile at Raphael. “And the plan with the river could work this time since it wasn’t raining and both Jillian and Carrie weighed less than Harvey Allen did.”
“So Jillian and Carrie would have both gone into the river?” Garret asked.
“Yes, and probably would have been gone by the time I got there if he hadn’t had to deal with Esteban.”
“So Jake hoped the fire would burn down the compound and they would be assumed lost in the blaze?”
“And if not, maybe the bodies would make it all the way to the sea and disappear. With the waters subsiding, I don’t think it would have worked, but the river goes through remote country. Even if the bodies snagged somewhere, they might not be found. It’s hard to prove murder without a body.”
“And me?” a pale Esteban asked. “Why attack me? He couldn’t know that I was expecting to find a body in the rug. He could have just come out before I looked and sent me away with a story—asked me to help with an evacuation or something.”
“Well, you might have seen him killing Jillian. He couldn’t know for sure and didn’t want to give you time to be ready for an assault. And you were confoundedly in the way. You could turn up again at any inopportune moment. He needed a clear field to move the bodies.”
“And, as you pointed out before, once a killer starts down the road to murder, seeing it as means to an end….” Raphael said.
“After two deaths, what was one more?” Garret finished. “I get you.”
“The odd thing is that I hadn’t seen him kill Jillian. I was bending over the rolled-up rug, expecting to see Jake or maybe Carrie. I was kneeling there like an idiot when he came out of the closet like Psycho and stabbed me.”
Juliet made a sympathetic noise.
“Save your pity. I deserved worse. I should have been paying attention but was so fixed on the idea that Jillian was the killer that I never considered that there was danger from another quarter. My mind went blank when I saw it was her.”
Juliet cleared her throat.
“I understand. I missed a beat when I saw it was Jake dragging your body through the gate. After finding Carrie, I was sure the killer was Jillian.” Juliet smiled wryly then turned back to Garret. “But, Sheriff, write this up however seems tidiest—and keeps my name out of the report as much as possible. After all, I’m just guessing about events. And one killer sounds more plausible than two.”
“It is more difficult to see Jillian as the killer,” Raphael suggested. “It goes against type.”
“Yes. One thinks the worm will never turn and we’re always shocked when it does. And I’m sorry she’s dead,” Juliet said. “I think a case could be made for temporary insanity. Even if it went to trial, a jury might have been sympathetic. Harvey Allen basically colluded in his own death by provoking so many people.”
“So you shot Jake?” Garret asked Juliet. “I mean for the official report.”
“Have they found his body yet?” Juliet asked.
“Not yet, but I think they will.”
“Then I suppose I have to admit to shooting him.”
“We could say that I shot him,” Esteban volunteered.
“I am not hearing this,” Garret added.
“No. It’s my gun. It’s registered to me and no one will question what happened—and if they do.…”
“Someone will make the question go away?” Garret asked.
“Probably. For a price,” she admitted.
“Freelance work for your old employer?” Raphael guessed.
“I’ve been trying to avoid it,” Juliet said. “But I suppose it’s inevitable. It’s like having a malarial infection. There are periods of normalcy but it never really goes away.”
“Well, that’s it for me,” Garret said, closing his notebook. “Juliet, thank you for the shirt. It’s a nice memento of a not so nice visit
to the Wood. I hope for an occasional invite for a tuna fish sandwich. You two, well, it would be okay if we didn’t see each other ’til the art show at the pumpkin festival—though heaven knows if that will be as grand as usual with all the pumpkin fields burned.”
“Turnout will be fine,” Raphael said. “The prize for largest pumpkin is five thousand dollars. People will come to show support.”
“And they’ll come to see Esteban’s bone puppets,” Juliet added. “Though I still say anyone who buys one has lizards in their brain.”
“Hey!” Esteban protested. “Just for that I’m giving you one for Christmas. The donkey, I think. And the sheriff needs one for his office.”
Garret smiled and pulled on his hat.
“Juliet is right. You’re all weirdoes.”
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of over 50 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.
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