Drowning Pool (Miss Henry Mysteries) by Melanie Jackson

satisfied with the encounter.
    After lunch she pulled Raphael aside and asked if he would like to go with her to see the pozas. Henrik von Hayek , who was standing nearby, overheard her and offered to arrange a jeep at once if that was what she wanted. Raphael studied her for a moment and they agreed that he would very much like to see the poza. This was a lie since he usually rested in the late afternoon, and it was unpleasantly hot outside, but Raphael knew that she was after something and needed, or at least wanted, his help.
    Bertram Fröndenberger and Oscar Dandie were also standing with their host and Juliet was relieved when no one else invited themselves along on their expedition. She wanted to enjoy the experience without interruption of her thoughts and even old Fröndenberger would be a distraction. He would also impede frank conversation which they could have once away from the castle.
    Juliet still had her sketchpad and flashlight with her and she led the way to the garage, making sure to choose a route that would accommodate Raphael’s chair.
    “You have made good use of your time,” was Raphael’s only comment at her obvious familiarity with the castle’s layout.
    “I have not been dallying,” she murmured. “And I can usually find my way about anyway.”
    “You do have a certain porosity when it comes to things like this,” he admitted. “Your sense of direction is useful while slipping between the cracks.”
    “Sorry I came along?”
    “Not yet. Ask me again tomorrow.” But he smiled when he said this.
    At the garage they ran into Smy the, whose presence she suspected was far from random. Though a guard had been detailed to serve as driver, Juliet insisted politely on driving a jeep herself. When Smythe suggested that she might get lost she laughed at him, but then told him a version of the truth, hoping to avoid any more conversational jujitsu. It was getting late and she didn’t want to be out after dark.
    “I’m going there to work and I don’t like strangers around when I am drawing. Raphael has the gift of being still so I don’t mind him, but anyone else will ruin it. The ghosts won’t come if there are too many people around.”
    “Ghosts?” he asked.
    “Of course. How can you doubt it? This whole place is creepy.”
    Smythe considered her for a moment and then ordered one of the guards to fetch the keys to a jeep. Juliet was betting that they had tracking devices on the vehicle and made note that if she had to borrow a vehicle in an emergency exit from the castle that she would have to check it for a LoJack.
    Aware that the jeep might also be bugged, Juliet said little on the short drive. Taking a cue from her, Raphael stayed quiet too.
    The little ponds were not far from the castle and not large enough to be impressive someplace like Minnesota. But in a land of perpetual thirst where even short exposure to the sun made one lightheaded, the water was miraculous. She could understand why they might have been a place of worship to those who lived in the wasteland. And why terrible legends of angry gods might have sprung up if the water—or what lived in the water—started making people sick.
    One of the four lakes was slightly larger than the others and at one end it was several shades darker, suggesting that it was deeper at one end. It was there they disembarked. They had to park a little way from the edge of the pozas, but there was a trail of hard earth through the shoulder-high grass which Raphael could negotiate without undue difficulty. The path was about two feet wide and the grass had been prostrated by some animal—perhaps a human. But the trail sometimes narrowed and the chair would occasionally flatten the strong stalks, and the broken stems filled the air with a slightly musky odor that smelled almost animal.
    There was no wind , so no whispers in the dry sward, and the water, which was fed by underground springs, was also still. The place both repelled and