“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if the twilight of the gods is scheduled, we will be out of here before nightfall.”

  Raphael didn’t comment on the vehemence of this decision.

  Juliet watched a car pull into the bottom lot. A man in a suit got out and went around to the other side of the car and opened the door. Out bounced a butterscotch-colored spaniel with giant ears that flopped comically.

  “Garret’s friend is here and he’s brought a dog. A spaniel,” Juliet reported. “I wonder if that’s a good sign.”

  “Some places use spaniels rather than bloodhounds. It puts a friendlier face on the cadaver dogs and what they are doing when the public is involved.”

  “I’m not sure this one is actually trained yet,” Juliet said, watching man and capering beast disappear under the trees.

  “Who else is still here?” Raphael asked. “Is there someone to let him in?”

  “Dolph is here,” she said. “I see his Mercedes. And there are two other cars, I think gray and maybe green. I can’t really see them through the trees. Most everyone else has gone to lunch, I guess. Well, I should go down and meet this Manoogin. It would probably be best if he didn’t ask Dolph where the body was. We might not actually get to show him anything if Dolph gets there first and starts misdirecting.”

  “There are limits to what Dolph can do,” Raphael said, amused.

  “I don’t think Dolph knows that and I would rather not deal with a pissed-off policeman.”

  Juliet started down the curving stairs. She was glad that she didn’t have arthritic knees because the constant corkscrew was harder on the legs than a regular flight of steps would be. The steps were also grooved in the center, worn down by thousands of feet that had used them through the centuries. It made them historically interesting but a little uneven for safe descent, especially if one were burdened with anything heavy.

  She heard the lamp chains creaking before she saw them. The giant colored vessels that held ten-pound candles and oil chambers were arranged as a sort of chandelier in the great hall. Something had set them to swaying. They sounded like a burdened gallows.

  Wind. It had to be the wind that moved them. There was no reason for the hairs on her arms to be standing on end.

  “Lieutenant Manoogin?” Juliet asked, stepping into the hall as the stranger strode through the open doors and looked about impatiently. Juliet was a little surprised to find the castle open when everyone had gone to lunch. Usually the castle portals were kept closed because of the marauding yellow jackets, but perhaps the workmen were getting ready to unload furniture or some piece of large equipment and it was easier to have the doors open.

  “Vince Manoogin,” he confirmed in a low, rumbling voice, coming forward and offering his hand. The lieutenant was tall and looked a bit like an Old Testament prophet, albeit before he had reached the silvery beard stage. His expression was watchful but curious. “And you would be Juliet Henry?”

  Juliet had more or less gotten used to the casualness of Californians in using first names on short acquaintance, but wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to call this man Vince.

  “Yes,” she said, shaking once and then letting go. “And who is this?”

  “This is Hannah. She’s in training. We’re still working on the appropriate demeanor for her serious calling.”

  “Hullo, Hannah,” Juliet said kneeling down to greet the spaniel whose stumpy tail wagged enthusiastically. “Well, you had best come up. I’m sorry, but the … problem is in the room at the top of the tower. Raphael and I were working up there when we … found her.”

  “It would be at the top,” Vince said without perturbation. He certainly didn’t look like a few flights of stairs would trouble him unduly.

  “Murphy’s Law applies everywhere,” Juliet agreed.

  “Raphael James is with you?” he asked, showing that Garret had taken the time to fill in a few details with a second phone call.

  “Yes, he’s waiting for us,” Juliet said, mounting the stairs. The narrow slits in the wall let in just enough light to see where they were going. Clever lighting had been installed in a groove cut in the wall but Juliet didn’t know where the switch was.

  “He’s guarding the body?” Vince suggested.

  Juliet looked back and smiled a little as Hannah rushed past her and galloped up the stairs.

  “Not an art fan, are you?” Juliet asked, wondering why Garret hadn’t mentioned Raphael’s wheelchair.

  “No, not really,” Vince admitted. “Does it matter?”

  “No, not at all.” Juliet thought about explaining the wheelchair but decided not to. Then changed her mind. It would be better not to spring too many things on the surprisingly agreeable officer of the law. “Mr. James is in a wheelchair. Otherwise he would have come down to meet you too.”

  “How the heck did he get up here?” Manoogin asked after he had digested this news. He kept one hand on the wall while climbing since there was no railing.

  “I’m a lot more worried about how he’s going to get down. I think we’re stuck until people come back from lunch. They just went off and left him.”

  “No elevator?”

  “Nope. Not yet. Dolph says one is coming though I doubt it will reach the tower.”

  “That would be Randolph Kingman?”

  “The Third, yes.”

  Juliet felt Manoogin’s stare and wondered what had crept into her voice. Probably nothing good.

  “Did I see a fire escape outside the tower?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s from the forties when this was a reform school.”

  “But there don’t seem to be any rooms or doors along here. What would anyone be escaping from?”

  “There is an external exit from the roof which had been turned into some kind of garden. That would probably be the fastest way out of the tower room I’m remodeling if there was an emergency.”

  The lieutenant gave a soft grunt.

  “So, how does this remodel work? I gather from the article in the paper that there are lots of interior decorators working on it at the same time?”

  “Yes. Each team of an artist and an interior decorator is given a budget for their part of the remodel. In theory we work together as a design team. In reality some teams are closer than others. Artists are notorious loners and some designers are divas enough to feel threatened.”

  “And what will your room be?” he asked politely.

  “A sort of yoga-exercise-meditation room. No one else is doing one and I figure who else but a fitness nut or a teenager trying to get as far from his parents as possible is going to want to cope with these stairs? It used to be a private chapel, I’m told, but I’m betting it didn’t get much use. Anyway, there isn’t much call for an in-house church these days.”

  Manoogin may have laughed, or he might just have been gasping for air. It was getting warmer and steeper as the tower narrowed.

  They reached the turret’s only room before Juliet started obvious panting. Hannah had gotten there before them and was busy getting pets from Raphael who was looking like a medieval lord on a throne, backlit by a finger of sun coming through the arrow slit and giving him a lovely halo. The dog hadn’t climbed all the way into his lap but was up on her back feet, making it easy for him to caress her. She didn’t seem very interested in the bones in the fireplace though the unpleasant odor was strong inside the room.

  “Lieutenant Vince Manoogin, this is Raphael James. Raphael, I see you have already introduced yourself to Hannah.”

  Vince came forward quickly so that Raphael would not have to move through the debris to meet him.

  “A pleasure,” he said, confirming Juliet’s suspicion that this was a very unusual policeman. Most cops would have started asking for facts and statements long before this, especially when they caught a whiff of the body.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Raphael said formally though his dignity was a little impaired by a lap full of wiggling dog.

  “The body is over there?” Manoogin finally asked.

  “The skeleton, yes,” Juliet said. “There isn’t much else left. Just hair, bone, and some clothing.”

  “If you don’t mind, I am going to put Hannah through her paces though it is quite obvious where the body is.”

  “Hannah’s still in training,” Juliet explained and Raphael’s lips twitched. “Please go ahead. I would enjoy seeing her work.”

  “Hannah,” Vince said in a serious voice and Hannah immediately got down and stopped wiggling though she still had a slight tremor in her body. Her eyes were fixed on Manoogin. He didn’t give any more verbal instruction, just gestured with his hand.

  The spaniel got right down to business and trotted to the fireplace where she scratched once on the rock and then sat at attention.

  “Good girl,” Vince said and patted her head. “Okay, you can go play.”

  Hannah barked once and then headed right back for Raphael. Her paws had mortar dust on them which was instantly transferred to Raphael’s linen slacks. If the great man minded, it didn’t show.

  Vince knelt and shone his flashlight around the hole.

  “It’s a skeleton alright. Probably female. Sorry, I’ll have to call it in and make it official. Garret mentioned that some toes might be getting stepped on because of this?”

  “I fear so. The castle remodel is a project for charity and there are tight deadlines. Mr. Kingman is obviously concerned about staying on schedule.”

  And avoiding any gossip that might interfere with the eventual sale of the castle, Juliet added to herself.

  “This shouldn’t delay him much. We will have to open the chimney up a bit more to remove the remains,” he warned. “We’ll try not to make it look like Godzilla has been visiting.”

  “Please, tear it to rubble. It needs to come out,” Juliet said decisively. “By the way, I’ve done a bit of research about the castle and ran across a story about a head nurse disappearing back in the twenties when the hospital was closed down. I don’t know that it’s her in there, but she seems to be wearing a uniform of some kind.”

  “Thanks. That gives us a place to start.” He stood and pulled out a phone. “Can I get reception up here?”

  “Yes, it’s best by the east windows.” Juliet pointed.

  “By the way, are there usually guards at the gatehouse?”

  “Yes. From seven to seven and then they lock the gates for the night.”

  “Well, no one is there now.”

  “Oh really?” Juliet and Raphael exchanged glances. “That’s odd.”

  Chapter 3

  Lieutenant Manoogin had just finished calling for the forensic team when they heard a screech of lamentation from below. It sounded like: “My table! Oh God! Who did this? Where is everyone?”

  “I’ll go,” Juliet said, recognizing Sandra’s voice. “Miss Kane is a little … high-strung.”

  “I better come too,” Manoogin said. “I need to meet the others and guide them up.”

  Juliet smiled a quick apology to Raphael for their abandonment and got a wave of his hand in return.

  Hannah barked and then, apparently happy with the echo, she barked again. Manoogin said her name, reminding her of her professional dignity. Torn between following her boss, who sounded exasperated and who wasn’t ordering her to heel, and staying with Raphael in the smelly, echoing room, she opted for the tower and ear rubs.

  They were a little slower going down the stairs than up them, but no more than two minutes had passed before they reached the dining room where Sandra was crying hysterically, her harsh sobs echoing off the hard metal surfaces of her custom table and eight electric chairs. Her short hair looked like an abused hedgehog and her face was flushed an ugly ham color that Juliet associated with coronary problems. There was no blood on her, but Juliet assumed from the strength of her crying that she was somehow injured.

  “Sandra,” Juliet exclaimed, starting forward and then stopping when she got a look at what was beyond the low arch. It would be hard not to see it. The lighting in the dining room was as subtle as a sonic boom and bounced blindingly off the white marble floor. The whole place looked like an abandoned skating rink. One with a body in it.

  “Oh damn. Lieutenant?”

  “I see him,” Manoogin said grimly from right behind her. “Who is it?”

  “I—I think it’s Randolph Kingman.”

  “Of course it’s Dolph—and he’s dead!” the hedgehog shrieked. “And someone has dented my table! Oh God! I’m going to be sick!” And with this prediction, Sandra bolted for the half bath down the corridor that led to the kitchen.

  Vince Manoogin didn’t try to stop her. He went to the body and tried for a pulse. No rigor, Juliet noted. But there wouldn’t be. Dolph had been alive only … she consulted her watch. Forty minutes ago.

  Unwillingly she noticed that there was a bit of red-hued sawdust on his pant legs. That might or might not mean anything. There was sawdust in the courtyard from the carpenters and some of the artists who worked in wood. It could have been picked up at any time if Dolph had walked through the worksite.

  “Well, I guess it’s good you called for a forensic team already,” Juliet said, then wished she had kept quiet. It would be more normal to scream or faint or start crying. And here she was trying to make Manoogin think that she was some normal person.

  Esteban walked in just then. He didn’t gasp at the sight of the body but Juliet could see he was taken aback by the tableau. It wasn’t every day you found a corpse spread-eagled with its head turned around backward. Lying stretched on the stainless steel table, Randolph Kingman looked like he was already laid out in a morgue and awaiting embalming.

  “Thank goodness you’ve come,” Juliet said, moving toward Esteban before the lieutenant could speak. “I’m afraid Raphael is stuck in the tower and I’ll need help getting him down.”

  Esteban pulled his eyes away from the corpse and focused on Juliet.

  “How the hell did he get up in the tower?” Esteban didn’t wait for an answer. He turned to Vince Manoogin and, recognizing him as a member of law enforcement, offered his hand. “Esteban Rodriguez,” he volunteered.

  The men shook but she could tell that Manoogin’s antennae had just picked up on the fact that Esteban was not some average Joe. It was some variation of deep calling unto deep. Or maybe more like two alpha dogs sizing up each other.

  “Esteban is also an artist and a neighbor. He isn’t working on the castle though. We called him for help with Raphael after we found the others had gone to lunch without us,” Juliet added. “Esteban, this is Lieutenant Vince Manoogin. He’s here about the other body. The one in the chimney.”

  Sounds of retching came from behind the bathroom door. They echoed unpleasantly in the mostly empty room.

  “You’ve had a busy day, bella. Two in one morning must be a new record.”

  Juliet grimaced. She knew that Manoogin was taking this in and would probably be asking her, or perhaps Garret, about her apparent habit of finding bodies.

  “And what kind of art do you do?” Vince asked politely when what he probably wanted was to order both of them away from the crime scene. He did not approach the body again, possibly to keep things as pure for the forensic team as possible.

  “I make puppets,” Esteban said, following Juliet’s lead which cast him as an artist friend. He did not mention his puppets were made of bones or that he was also a private detective.

  “Lieutenant, would you mind if we went and got Raphael now?” When Manoogin hesitated Juliet added, “He hasn’t said anything about being tired, but I know he has to be exhausted and it gets quite hot up in the tower. The smell is also very disagreeable.”

  “Certainly,” Manoogin agreed. “I’m sorry that I can’t assist you, but I can’t leave the crime scene unattended. If you need help, the team will be here shortly and I can detail someone to assist you.”

  He really was a human being and a gentleman.

  “It’s okay. Esteban and I can handle it. We’re used to his wheelchair. I’ll be back in just a bit.”

  Juliet and Esteban left the dining room. Neither said anything until they reached the stairs.

  “Since when did you become such a liar, bella?” Esteban muttered softly. He bent and brushed a few specks of yellowish sawdust off his pants. The great hall, perhaps because of the wind moving between the open doors, was littered with a dusting of wood shavings that were attracted to the static of Esteban’s slacks. Juliet was glad that the shavings never made it up to the tower room.

  “I’m not lying. Raphael is tired and it’s hot and stinky up there. And I have so helped with his wheelchair many times. And I just think it might be good if he saw the body—the other body —before it’s moved.”

  Esteban grunted.

  “You haven’t maneuvered him on a staircase like this one,” he said, taking it in.

  “We’ll manage.”

  “That was the libidinous Randolph Kingman on the table?”

  Juliet understood why he asked. With the neck turned around it had been impossible to see the face.

  “Yes.”

  “And the cop, he has no idea who did it, of course?”

  “No. Me either,” Juliet added. “Everyone left for lunch and I figured we were alone. Apparently the security guard at the gate has taken a powder too.”

  “That is very odd, bella.” Juliet looked back at him enquiringly. “Usually you know something of these things.”

  “There is nothing unusual about my not knowing who the killer is. I haven’t even met half the people involved with the project. And anyway, I don’t always know. I just hypothesize about the available data.”

  Esteban didn’t dignify this with a reply. Perhaps he was out of breath. Juliet certainly was. It was her third trip up the stairs and her legs were protesting.

  Raphael received the news of Kingman’s death with a lifted brow. The second brow joined the first when Juliet explained that she and Esteban were going to get him downstairs on their own and without the carrying chair.

  “I’m not complaining, because it is beastly hot up here and the remains of the lady in the chimney are odiferous,” Raphael said. “But just how do you plan to accomplish this feat without killing me or yourselves?”

 

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