Free 2 Landscape in Scarlet by Melanie Jackson Page A

heavy hammer in his hand also affect ed her objectivity.
    Juliet pretended to shop. Everything he had for sale was heavy and looked like repurposed weapons. Except for a birdcage. Juliet had never seen one done in wrought iron, but the blackened metal leant itself to the towered castle he had fashioned.
    “Oh, it’s been sold,” Juliet said, half relieved and half regretful. “I’m not surprised. It’s very striking.”
    Xander grunted but turned to face her, lips folding over his large teeth.
    “Was it a commission?” Juliet asked. “Or do you make them from time to time?”
    “It was commissioned,” he said grudgingly and didn’t volunteer anything else .
    “It must get hot working over a forge all day,” Juliet tried doggedly. “Does the fire go out if you take breaks ?”
    “No.” He smiled at her suddenly. All those teeth startled her. “You’re the sweatshirt lady. You’ve been around to visit everyone , asking questions .”
    “Yes. That’s me, the social butterfly.”
    Xander shook his head.
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Well, no. I — I’m the one who found the balloon man’s body yesterday.” Juliet looked away from him and studied a garden stake that rather looked like a demon’s sword. “It’s been bothering me that I didn’t see that he was sick. That I just thought he was drunk and was glad when he staggered away. It’s been haunting me a bit. It’s especially bad because no one seems to know much about him. We let a stranger die alone because we didn’t know that he had medical problems and didn’t want to get involved. I’m … ashamed of myself. ”
    This was truth, albeit of a very selective kind. It was irrelevant too, but many men expected women to be inane.
    “I knew him. You weren’t missing much. But carry rancor to the grave and no further, ” Xander said, startling Juliet by using her own words . “H e’s dead now. Let God sort him out.”
    Maybe his face tried to soften as he said this , but with hardened leather it was difficult to tell.
    “I’m not so sure that God was looking either,” she said and then turned to leave. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain her hunch to Garret, but her gut was saying that Xander Lawson wasn’t the killer either. They had to look for someone else, someone with an unknown motive.
    “Hell ’ s bells, ” she said to the mostly fresh air outside. “Now what?”
    In spite of her intention to find out all she could about Comstock and his murderer , Juliet found herself increasing ly drawn to her sketch book. Drawing could be therapeutic, a way to reach other parts of the mind that might have noticed something her waking brain was unaware of.
    The trees especially called to her once the afternoon advanced and the shadows grew long and twisted away from their makers. Unable to resist the pull of a new shirt design she began to draw. She considered cedars and redwoods but found herself drawn to an old oak. It was creepy without having any of the genuine horror she felt for the yew with its grasping branches and poisonous foliage.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Juliet ’s car drove itself around most of the potholes in the private road and accepted the rest without complaining out loud. This was good because its owner was distracted and slightly depressed .
    She reached the compound and rejoined the present when she found two news automobiles in the lot and people already gathered at Robbie Sykes cottage where 80s music was playing . The caretaker was throwing a party for the two latest arrivals to the art colony.
    Juliet examined the cars. One was a new hybrid, the other was a very old, multicolored Volkswagen Bug slowly bleeding oil onto the gravel. She grabbed one of the many oil trays leaning against the trees that ringed the lot. They looked like giant cookie sheets. Finding one that wasn’t too disgusting, she slid it under the blue-yellow-red car. Robbie kept a supply of oil trays because many of the residents had leaky