An Illustrated Death by Judi Culbertson Page A

that a gap had been left and the pool just beyond. All along I had been picturing the pool out in the open, centrally located in front of the cottages. But it had been hidden here.
    The cedars were tall, over my head. I walked through the opening and stared down. The pool must have been emptied after it happened but it wasn’t empty now. A foot of water had collected in the deep end, water so dirty and unappealing that I didn’t want to get any closer. Friezes of mermaids and water sprites had been painted on the sides of the pool. When I reached the center I looked back and saw Triton—or was it Neptune?— blowing his horn at the deep end. Under my feet the blue-and-white pattern of tiles was grimy.
    I realized something else. No one would have been able to see what was happening in the pool from outside.
    “Don’t jump,” a voice begged me, and I whirled around. Aunt Gretchen was standing on the tier of ground above me, looking down.
    “Don’t worry, I forgot my towel,” I called back, then climbed a set of stone steps to reach her.
    She was taller than I had realized, wearing dirt-stained jeans and a red windbreaker, a navy calico bandana covering her bright hair. She had the boniness of someone who had been fleshy but lost weight. Behind her was a lush, end-of-season garden planted in perfect rows. Crimson balls of tomatoes hung heavily against dark leaves, and I spotted more of the beans we had eaten the day before. Pumpkin and melon vines snaked over the ground like connecting cords. The garden was protected by a high fence and netting.
    “What a gorgeous garden. Do you do it yourself?”
    “Every last leaf. We had a gardener once, but he—” She stopped then, as if that story had an unhappy ending. “By the way, I’m Gretchen Erikson, Nate’s cousin. He grew up with my family.” She put out a weathered hand and smiled at me. “Aunt Gretchen to everyone else.”
    “You’re his cousin? But—you do all the cooking!”
    She laughed. “It keeps me busy. There’s nothing worse than an idle old lady.”
    I was about to protest that she wasn’t that old when I heard a scraping on the steps behind me and turned around.
    “What’s going on here?” Bianca sounded tense. To get here so quickly she would have had to have been following me.
    “Your friend was admiring my garden,” Gretchen said. “I can’t think why, when it’s such a fright. They’ll be bringing me the straw to mulch it next week.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother.”
    “Because you love to see everything grow.”
    “I do. But it’s not the same without Nate.”
    “Nothing is.” Bianca poked at an errant root with her toe.
    “And my precious angel. I can’t believe she’s not here either, jumping up and down to see how big the pumpkins are getting.”
    “ Don’t. ”
    “I never realized how blessed we were. You expect it will go on forever.” Then Gretchen seemed to pull herself together. “Maybe once the garden’s bedded down, I’ll do some traveling. It’s been too long since I’ve been to Italy.”
    “But we’ll starve to death!”
    “Oh, you’ll manage. What will you do when I can no longer cook at all?”
    “Put you on an ice floe, I guess.” Then Bianca gave my back a jab. “Come on. You have work to do.”
    “Ow!” I reached around and rubbed the spot. I followed her with ill grace down the stone steps.
    “What will you do when she can’t cook anymore?”
    Bianca’s pale eyes widened and she gave me a scornful smirk. “Starve to death, probably.”
    I laughed. It had been a silly question.
    “I can’t imagine Gretchen not being around. She took care of us when we were little, while my parents were working.”
    “Your parents worked?” I couldn’t imagine it. That would be like Queen Elizabeth helping out at her local deli.
    “Not at jobs. Mama painted watercolors, mostly flowers, and you know what my father did. We’d have lunch, the way we still do, then my father would