1 Portrait of a Gossip (17 page)

Though her throat was still a bit raspy, Juliet felt better
than she had since Harvey Allen was killed. Her sense of order was restored.
The snake had been driven from her garden. The compound and White Oaks were
safe and Esteban and Carrie Simmons were well—or would be eventually, though
Carrie would need her walker for real, at least for a while.

“So it was Jillian and not Jake who killed Harvey Allen?”
Garret asked. He had invited them to write out their statements while they were
there, but also to help him create a sensible timeline for the report that
would have to be filed with the state police since they had been on the scene.
Paperwork had been delayed a few days because of the aftermath of the fire, but
everything was back to normal, the wildfire defeated, evacuees returned home,
and reports needed to be filed. “’Cause it seems to me that you could write it
both ways.”

“Yes. I know Jake looks like a better choice, and you can
hang the whole case around his neck for all I care, but I don’t think it happened
that way.”

“Why not?”
Garret asked. “He was
able and sure as hell demonstrated a propensity for violence, which is more
than you can say for his wife.”

“I know.” Juliet gathered her thoughts, trying to explain
how she knew what she knew. Somehow she didn’t think that Garret would
understand about the empty birdcage and how it was symbolic of Jillian letting
go of the last thing she loved in her old life.

“It all starts with Jillian. Rose Campion can tell you more
than I can about her past. We’ve all known women like her. Abused as a child, she
was damaged inside, in places and at depths where the pain could never be
plucked out or completely healed over. She lived for her brother and later she was
her husband’s shadow. We didn’t think of her as being a person in her own right—at
least I didn’t. Probably she didn’t think of herself as a whole person either
though she carried around enough pain for any two people. And she carried it
until she broke under the load.”

Raphael nodded. He had known her longer than the rest of
them.

“And since, though a good illustrator of others’ thoughts
and deeds, she herself had little imagination—clearly not enough to envision
letting go of the past and forgiving trespasses against her—killing the thing
that gave her daily pain seemed like a good idea. And God knows a case can probably
be made that Harvey deserved it after driving her twin brother to suicide. You
all know about that?”

Juliet got nods from everyone. They knew about Charity King.

“The irony is that Harvey didn’t know he had moved into a
compound with the sister of his victim. He didn’t recognize Jillian, but of
course Jillian and Jake knew him.” Juliet swallowed. “But it wasn’t her way to
just charge out with guns blazing and confront the creature. She didn’t know
how to confront anyone. So she waited, maybe needing a sign. Who knows how
often she sat in the woods in her little copse, watching Harvey as he watched
others with his binoculars and his parabolic mike, waiting for the right time
to finally kill him. We know it was Jillian and not Jake who hid in the woods because
we found no trace of cigarettes and Jake was unable to go any length of time
without smoking.”

“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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