Plain Jane

by Fern Michaels

  It was five-thirty when Jane walked away from the flower garden. She felt like she’d lost one of her best friends. The urge to cry was so strong she had to bite down on her lip as she made her way to the old well. The boulder was gone and the hole filled in. The workers were grading the soil as she watched. Piles and piles of rock and brick waited to be carried away. In another hour, the ground would be level and no one would ever know there had once been a well on the spot. Maybe in the spring she’d lay some sod and perhaps plant a shade tree and some flowers around the base. Maybe she could make it look like the old trees on Tulip Street. Billy would like that if he ever came back. He could sit under the tree and watch Jeeter dig up the flowers. When the tears she’d been trying to hold in check burst from her eyes, she ran into the house.

  It was late, and she had to get her act together. Since she hadn’t heard from Brian, she assumed the meeting was going to come off on schedule. That meant she had to call Trixie and put her plan into action. If she had anything to be grateful for, it was that Mike had gone to his parents for the weekend to bring his father home from the hospital. The elder Sorenson had undergone knee-replacement surgery, and Mike wanted to be on hand to make sure his father did what the doctor ordered. Mike definitely would not approve of this little meeting tonight. She was grateful also that Trixie had somehow blown off her head cold by drinking eight ounces of Kentucky bourbon and was back on the job. Without Trixie, there would be no way to carry out her plan.

  “Let’s go upstairs, Olive. Come on, girl. It’s not the end of the world even though it seems like it at the moment. I have to get ready for this evening. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes, then I’ll fix us some supper.” Olive sat looking up at her, her tail still against the floor. “Please, Olive, you’re making me feel bad. God, if you could only talk.” When the springer wouldn’t budge, Jane sat down on the floor and cuddled with the dog. “Billy and Jeeter didn’t belong here, Olive. They sort of went home. It wasn’t fair to keep them here when I had the . . . power . . . for want of a better word, to . . . to make things right. Look, I don’t know if this is real or not. Whatever it is, we have to live with it. Don’t make me carry you, Olive. Get up!” she said in her most authoritative voice. Olive whimpered but obeyed the command, followed Jane upstairs, and headed for her bed in the corner. She never slept in the bed, but she did keep all her toys and treasures along with a bunch of dog bones in it.

  Jane was on her way into the bathroom when Olive started barking. It was such a loud, joyous bark that Jane turned around to see what was going on. Olive was nosing her sheepskin bed. Jane walked over for a closer look. On top of a pile of stuffed animals was a tattered burlap ball tied together with a vine. Jane watched as the springer gently nosed the ball from the pile of toys and bones. When it toppled onto the floor, she rolled it toward Jane.

  “It’s Jeeter’s isn’t it, Olive?” She smothered a sob. “He left you his ball. See, I told you it was okay.” She watched as Olive flopped down and worked the ball until it was under her chin. Once she had it secure, she sighed with contentment and closed her eyes.

  “Thanks, Billy,” Jane said. She waited to see if there would be a response. When nothing happened, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and once more headed for the shower.

  Jane watched their arrival from the small window on the first-floor stair landing. Brian must have used some extraordinary force or else he was more verbal than she had previously given him credit for. They were all there, even Todd Prentice. But they were in two groups—the good guys, as she more or less thought of them: Brian, Tony, and Mitch. And the bad guys: Marcus, Ben, and Pete. Todd Prentice brought up the rear. The pariah. Even a blind fool could see the others were distancing themselves from Todd.

  Long years of hatred bubbled in Jane as she stared with narrowed eyes at the men responsible for Connie Bryan’s death. She wished she had the guts to shoot them dead on the spot. She mumbled a prayer that she wouldn’t do something she would regret later on. The bastards were actually there, in her house. She closed her eyes for a moment to ward off a wave of dizziness. She thought she could feel strong hands pinning her arms to her side, thought she could smell her own fear and Connie’s as well.

  When the doorbell rang, Jane almost jumped out of her skin. She made her way to the door taking deep breaths as she went along.

  “Gentlemen, come in. Let’s go into the living room. I can offer you coffee or beer.” There were no takers. Why in hell am I acting so civilized? Because I am, and they aren’t, she answered herself.

  Jane’s furniture was arranged in a U to take advantage of the beautiful fireplace. Four of the seven ex-football players squeezed together on the couch behind the coffee table. Two others sat in overstuffed chairs at each end of the coffee table, and Todd sat in one of the two straight-backed chairs flanking the fireplace.

  Marcus pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “No. Go right ahead.” She opened the end-table drawer and took out two large ashtrays and set them down on the coffee table. Three of them lit up. Before long the room would be filled with smoke, and she’d have to air out the house.

  Brian opened the discussion. “I told everyone what you told me, Doc. Pete, Ben, and Marcus don’t seem to want to believe me. They say they didn’t do anything but rough Connie up. I told them about your evidence. Maybe you should clarify it for them. They don’t believe you were the other girl that night either,” Brian said, looking directly at her.

  Jane hated being in the spotlight. They looked so big, so . . . menacing. Just the way they’d all looked on that dark night so long ago. She must have been out of her mind when she concocted this plan but now . . . Now it was too late. Displaying a confidence she didn’t feel, she sat down and crossed her legs. “What Brian told you is the truth. I was the other girl, the one you didn’t take into the bushes. If you still doubt me I have pictures . . . pictures of the bruises, cuts, and abrasions you inflicted on Connie. I also have, had rather, all the clothing she wore that night. The police have it now,” she lied, straight-faced. “Your DNA, gentlemen, has been preserved. While I can’t show you the actual physical evidence, I can show you the pictures. What that means to all of you is you do not have one iota of wiggle room here.” She turned toward Todd. “The only one here tonight who wasn’t physically at the scene is, you, Todd,” she said, retaining her affability even as her eyes narrowed in revulsion. She swung her gaze back to the others. “If you want him to walk away from this and continue to enjoy his good life while all of your lives go down the drain, then by all means keep lying for him.”

  Jane got up and walked over to the cherrywood secretary, opened the drawer, and withdrew a large envelope of computer-generated pictures, scanned from the Polaroid originals. She handed them to Brian to pass around.

  “As you can see, the first three pictures are of Connie and the other pictures are her clothes, the ones that are full of your DNA. It only takes a drop, gentlemen, one tiny little drop, and bingo, a match! If you look carefully at the pictures, you will see her name label on the garments.” Perverse though it might be, she was enjoying their looks of fear. “Your legal fees are going to be astronomical. Your families are going to be sick over this. Your wives might even divorce you. And your kids will be tormented in school. No matter how you look at it, your lives are never going to be the same. Just the way my life was never the same after that awful night. We all know what happened to Connie.”

  Jane walked behind the sofa where Marcus, Pete, and Ben were handing the pictures to one another. The moment she saw the scar on Marcus Appleton’s hand something in her snapped. “You stick out in my mind most of all, you sick son of a bitch! I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I’m the one who bit your hand and left you with that dandy little scar. You called me a beached whale and a tub of lard, remember? You’re one of the reasons Connie Bryan is dead.”

  Marcus leapt up off the couch and turned toward her. “I�
�m not listening to this. So what if I have a scar on my hand? Millions of people have scars on their hands. I don’t even know who the hell you are. Ramsey here said you were going to go to our families and tell them some wild story. The only reason I’m here is to see for myself what kind of nutcase you are. Come on, guys, I’m leaving.” He took a step around the coffee table.

  “Sit down, Mr. Appleton,” Jane said, pointing her finger at him. “You leave when I say you leave. Not one minute before.” She might have been holding a gun for the way he stopped midstride and stood statue-still. “What do the rest of you have to say for yourselves?”

  “It was Todd’s idea,” Pete blurted. “He had this plan. He said he’d get us all good jobs with his wife’s family business. Back then, he used the word girlfriend.”

  “This is bullshit!” Todd yelled as he stood up, his hands clenched into fists.

  Before he could say another word, Ben Nolan was in his face. “Don’t try weaseling out, Prentice. If I go to jail for this, so are you. We go down, you go down.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Brian injected. “Mitch, Tony, and I had nothing to do with Connie’s rape. The worst thing Tony and Mitch did was hold the doctor down. I was there, but I left before things got out of hand. Tony and Mitch can verify that. We’ll take whatever punishment the courts want to inflict on us for that part of it, but that’s it. The rest of you are on your own.”

  “Don’t try pushing this on me,” Prentice blustered. “You all acted independently. I didn’t tell you to do anything, and you can’t prove I did. I’m outta here.”

  “Sit down, Todd,” Jane shouted, stopping him short. “Trixie, this might be a good time to bring in our big guns.”

  Wearing his bulletproof vest and his badge, Flash, followed by Kimba, a soon-to-be K-9 graduate, trotted into the room, each coming around the U of furniture to stand next to the two fireplace chairs.

  Jane was rewarded with instant silence and a rapid scramble for seats. Confident that she’d made her point, she sat down opposite Todd and crossed her legs, affecting a casual pose. “Flash, Kimba, seitz,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. The dogs obeyed instantly. The sitting dogs reminded her of the stone lions guarding the New York Public Library. “You were saying something, Todd? I couldn’t quite hear what it was,” Jane said coldly.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Not much from where I’m standing.” She strived for an innocent look. “Oh, you mean the dogs. Are they bothering you? I know they’re big and ferocious-looking, but I assure you they’re very well trained. They’ll do anything I ask.” Todd’s look of smug confidence was gone. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. In one of Connie’s letters . . .” She slapped her face and clicked her tongue. “Oh, jeez, I forgot. You don’t know about her letters, do you?” She waved her hand. “Let me get you guys up to speed here. I visited Connie’s parents and they gave me her old computer disks. I recovered her letters off of them.” She looked directly at Todd. “Anyway, she said that after you two were married you were going to get a dog and a cat. You do like dogs, don’t you? Listen, if you want to leave, go ahead.” She moved her gaze around the room. “You can all leave if you want to.” If you dare to, she thought and almost laughed. “Trixie, do we have any refreshments? Cocoa with those little marshmallows and some of those gingersnaps would be real good about now.”

  “You’re using those dogs to hold us here against our will. That’s illegal,” Ben Nolan blustered.

  Jane pretended to look shocked. “Surely you jest, Mr. Nolan,” she said, giving him a sideways look. “If you want to leave, then by all means leave. I wouldn’t think of stopping you.”

  “Yeah, right. The second one of us heads for that door, those dogs will be on us like stink on shit.”

  “Shit? Hmm. What an interesting way of putting it,” she said. “Tsk, tsk, gentlemen,” Jane said, clucking her tongue. “Flash and Kimba are highly trained K-9s. They would never attack unless they were given a direct order to go after a bad guy. You know, a robber, a mugger, or a rapist.”

  “Screw this. You’re trying to intimidate us with those dogs,” Pete Zachary sputtered. He was so deep into the cushions of the chair, Jane thought he was going to push through to the other side. “You can’t do this. This is illegal. You’re threatening us and holding us here against our will, hoping we’ll confess to what you want to hear.”

  Jane clucked her tongue again. “Let’s see if I have this right. You think I’m threatening you and using these dogs to hold you here against your will.” She placed her index finger on the side of her nose, pretending to give the matter some thought. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you all threaten Connie and me? Didn’t you hold us against our will? Don’t you think we were afraid of what you would do to us?” Her voice dropped an octave. “How does it feel, you miserable, stinking bastards?”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Marcus said, his face ugly with fear. “You’ll hear from my lawyer. I’ll sue your ass off.”

  Jane bristled. “Lawyers and lawsuits don’t frighten me. And you don’t frighten me. Not anymore. Let’s cut to the chase here and spit it all out, shall we?” She reached over and petted Flash’s head. “Now what’s it going to be?”

  “Fuck you,” Marcus spit.

  Kimba, a sleek ninety-pound, black-and-gold shepherd growled at his tone.

  “It’s okay, girl. You didn’t mean that, did you, Marcus? You have to be careful what you say around these K-9s. These dogs are easily agitated, and they pick up on emotion and tone.”

  Trixie entered the room carrying a tray with two cups and a plate with four cookies on it.

  “Ohhh, this is good. It really hits the spot.” Jane turned her back on the men in the room and winked at Trixie. “So listen, Trix, I need some advice,” she said just loud enough for the others to hear. “What do you think I should wear next week when I go to meet Mike’s parents? I could wear that burnt orange dress I bought before Christmas or maybe that frilly thing with the lace at the throat. What do you think?”

  “I like that cranberry-colored dress with the slit up the side. Wear your Vera Wang scarf with it. Chunky gold earrings. That will make a nice impression.”

  “What are they doing?” Jane whispered.

  Trixie lifted her eyebrows and looked askance at the seven men. “I think they’re dead. Not a one of them is moving, not even twitching,” Trixie hissed.

  “Let’s smoke a cigarette. They’re all smokers, and they must be dying for one about now. Make sure you blow the smoke in their direction.”

  Jane had never enjoyed a cigarette so much. When she was through, she crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray, grabbed two dog treats off the tray, then returned to her chair between Flash and Kimba. One of the treats she handed to Flash and the other she tossed to Kimba, whose jaws snapped shut on the morsel of food like a sprung trap.

  “You three,” she said, pointing to Mitch, Tony, and Brian, “can go. If you want to file charges against me, get in line. I’m never going to forget or forgive you for what you did that night. I want you to know that. I also want you to know that I won’t shed one tear when you’re all sentenced. And you will be sentenced. That’s a given.”

  The three left the U of furniture, walking slowly, cautiously, past Flash and Kimba.

  “I don’t think any of us are going to be filing any charges, Doc,” Brian said.

  “I waited a lot of years to see this,” Tony Larsen said. “You know what? I’m glad it’s coming to a head. I’ll do whatever it takes to put it behind me.”

  “That goes for me, too,” Mitch Iverson added.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” Jane motioned them ahead of her. “I want you to know that I didn’t see anybody’s face that night, so other than my gut instinct, I don’t know who did what.”

  “I told you the truth. We aren’t the ones who raped Connie,” Brian said. “The DNA will be our safety net. Our proof.”

  Jane n
odded. “I believe you. How long do you think they’ll hold out?” she asked, glancing behind her.

  “It’s anybody’s guess,” Brian said grimly. “Todd is never going to give it up. He has too much to lose. You might have to call his father-in-law.”

  She let them out and watched the three men walk away, then made her way to the kitchen, where Trixie was brewing a pot of coffee, Olive and Golda at her feet.

  “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, Janie,” Trixie said. “Where is this going? How long do you think you can keep this up?”

  “I’ve come this far. I can wait until they’re ready to confess. They can’t hold out forever. You know what, Trixie? If I’d thought of this sooner, you and Fred wouldn’t have had to do that thing with the contest at LSU. I think this is going to wrap it up.”

  “It doesn’t matter, honey. Endowing a university is never a waste of money. I’m glad we did it. Like Fred said, a pair of hands on the book cover with the football will make it a great jacket. We’d do it all over again.”

  Jane smiled wanly. “All the hatred, all the misery, it’s gone, Trixie. I feel like I’ve been reborn. When they first walked into the room, I knew I was capable of killing. If I’d had a gun, I would have fired it. I never felt such blind rage in all my life. One second it was there, and the next second it was gone.”

  Trixie wrapped her skinny arms around Jane’s shoulders. “That’s a good thing. I bet if I wanted to, I could work a whole series of books around this one event. What we’re doing here is definitely illegal,” Trixie said, her voice cheerfully at odds with the situation.

  “I know. Even if they confess and we get it on tape, will it hold up in court? I can only hope so. Hell, Trixie, I have my doubts it will ever even get to court. I don’t know what to do now.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “An hour ago I would have said I’d like to cut off their balls, but now, I don’t know. I’m way out of my league here and we both know it.”