Jane dragged herself back to thinking about the purse.
"Mel, were there any receipts in the purse or billfold?"
"Not a one. Why do you ask?"
"Nor a notebook or note cards for writing things down? Like a shopping list?"
Mel was slow to reply. "No," he finally said. "Janey, thanks for thinking of that."
"Do you think it means something?"
"It might," he admitted. "A purse is a bit like a man's jacket pockets or billfold, I imagine. I'm always finding notes to myself and beat-up receipts when I take a jacket to the cleaners or my billfold starts bulging. I have to go. I'm glad I filled you in on what's going on. Your take on things is interesting."
"You've never admitted that before."
"Why would I?"
"Just to be nice," Jane said with a laugh. "Like you are today."
"Only today?" he asked. "It's probably just because she was overorganized about keeping her purse free of debris." Before she could reply to his attempt to back out of the compliment he'd given her, he said, "I have someone here who wants to talk to me. See you later."
Jane picked up her own purse from the kitchen chair where she'd put it and discovered a side pocket she and Shelley had overlooked. It contained a paper clip, yet another ballpoint
pen, and two very old grocery lists written on scraps of paper, one sheet apparently torn from a blank page in the back of an old paperback book.
She threw these away and called Shelley.
"We got a compliment from Mel a few minutes ago. On a purely domestic thing I mentioned we'd done."
"Do tell!" Shelley exclaimed.
"His call was about finding the purse that's been missing."
She recounted what he'd said about the contents and what questions she'd asked.
"Jane, he's never really appreciated our views before, you know. It's terrific that he finally realizes that we know ordinary everyday domestic things that might be important."
"To be honest, Shelley, he tried to weasel out of having admitted that, then cut me off to talk to someone else."
"Of course he did. He's a man, after all," Shelley advised. "I assume they found it outdoors."
"Why would you assume that?" Jane asked. Shelley had spoiled her next bit of information.
"Because Bitsy had all the locks changed. And Budley, you, and I have the only duplicates. One of the four of us must show up early every morning from now on to let the workers in."
"It's not going to be me, and it shouldn't be you. We're not being paid, or even contracted to be paid yet."
"Good point."
"Besides, she didn't give me a key," Jane continued.
"She gave me yours. This was the first chance I've had to pass it along. So where was the purse found?"
Jane told her.
"More vandalism," Shelley said with a sigh. "I'm starting to wonder all over again if Sandra really was murdered. Nothing else that's happened actually hurt anyone."
"The planer hurt Jacqueline," Jane argued.
"But only because she jumped back and hit her head against something. It wasn't meant to harm her, according to Thomasina."
Shelley went on. "All the other catastrophes are just nasty. The damage to the Sheetrock, the shrimp in the furnace pipes — excluding, of course, the two women who were nauseated. The salting of the fresh concrete and the fake bomb in the toolbox are other good examples. They all merely caused trouble and delays."
"Even if nobody was seriously hurt, the next such incident might go awry," Jane objected. "And anyone working there or even sneaking onto the site will probably go on doing things until they get their way."
"Say that again."
Jane repeated her statement.
"That could be what it's all really about," Shelley said. "Who stands to profit by this? Bitsy's ex-
husband? Just to destroy her project that he thinks he's actually paying for out of the divorce settlement? Or Joe Dudley, who ended up with a job he seemed to have needed?"
"Shelley, that doesn't make sense anymore, unfortunately. I can see that he might have tried to sabotage the job to get Sandra fired, so he got a second shot at making money on Bitsy. But why would he continue?"
"Just to cover his own ass, Jane."
"I don't think so. Mel told me something else I almost forgot to tell you. He says Budley's furious because Bitsy made him sign a contract that specifies penalties if he doesn't finish it at the bid he gave and on the date he set for completion."
"Uh-oh. Bitsy got herself a good lawyer at last."
"Exactly what I thought."
"She's probably running my version of our contract by him, too."
"Oh. That's true. Honestly, Shelley, I hope he tears it to pieces. We don't really want to do this job, do we?"
"I'd still enjoy the shopping part," Shelley said with a slight whine in her voice. "And I'd like to be a part of the end result. But not if a savvy attorney gets involved."
"I guess we'll see. I didn't get a chance to ask Mel something I'm wondering about, now that I think about it. I asked what was in the purse. And he said everything you'd expect to find. But when I asked if she had a notebook or any receipts or
scraps of paper with notes or lists, he said no. That's what he was complimenting us for thinking of."
"So what did you forget to ask?"
"Whether they'd found a filing system at her house. I assume they searched it pretty thoroughly for clues about her life. He mentioned that maybe she was just too organized to carry trash around in her purse."
"You have to catch up with him and find out," Shelley said.
"I guess I do. So, do we have anything else we really need to do today? I'd like to stay home, go back over the book, and make changes now that I know what Priscilla's house looks like."
"I don't think we need to go over there again until we find out about the contract," Shelley said. "But just in case we get what we want, there's something I'd like to do this evening."
Jane was immediately wary. There was something odd about the way Shelley spoke. "And what is that?"
"It's a full moon tonight and it's supposed to be a really clear night."
"So?"
"Well, I thought since we have a key, we could go over and see what the House of Seven Mabels looks like at night. All those windows and skylights. Just to fuel our imaginations, you see. It may change our minds about color schemes."
Jane didn't like the idea, but said, "I suppose
we could. I know from your tone of voice that you're going to do it whether I go along or not. And I don't want you in that place all by yourself, but I'd like to get Mel to come along to protect us."
"He wouldn't go along with that, do you think?"
"Maybe. I'll see."
To Jane's surprise, Mel agreed. "I don't want you two roaming around there when it's empty. Besides, it might provide me with something I've missed."
They met at the front door at nine. Shelley and Jane had stayed in Jane's car until Mel arrived. It turned out that he had a key of his own that Bitsy hadn't mentioned.
"There seem to be a great many more keys floating around than we thought," Jane mentioned in passing to Shelley in an undertone.
Mel also had a flashlight to lead them upstairs. He kept it carefully aimed at the floor.
When they got into the part of the house that was being renovated, Shelley pointed first to the skylight over the door to the area. "Hmm," she said.
"Hmm, indeed," Mel said, looking up. "I don't think that's the Northern Lights."
Jane looked up. The sky, instead of being the clear white of a full moon, was faintly pink.
Mel said, "Stay right where you are," in a voice
that couldn't be argued with. He went to one of the back windows. "There's a fire out back" was all he said before asking Shelley for her cell phone to call the fire department.
Twenty-three
Mel had jane and Shelley out of the house, into Jane's car, and o
n their way home before the first fire truck arrived. He wasn't about to admit to anyone that he was there simply to help out the decorators in his free time. With them gone, he could justifiably say he was checking out the house, just being a good cop on his own time.
He called Jane a short while later from his apartment. "Sorry I was so curt. I had no idea if there was something in the Dumpster that could explode," he lied. "But whoever did this put only a pint or two of kerosene in the far end. The fire probably could have been doused with a pitcher of water instead of three fire engines."
"So, just one more little nasty trick?"
"Not necessarily," Mel said. "If we hadn't happened to be there to notice, it might have burned to the other end of the Dumpster and generated enough heat and flame to burn the whole place down."
"Am I to understand that you're saying it was
a good thing we dragged you over there?" Jane asked.
"I guess it was," Mel admitted.
"Any hints of who did it?"
"Nope. No container left behind. And the ground around the far end is so compacted it won't take footprints. Janey, you're not really going to take this job, are you?"
"I hope not," Jane said. "Shelley's excited about the shopping possibilities and I'd hate to let her down. But Bitsy seems to have found a good attorney who probably won't approve the contract Shelley drew up. That's about the only thing that. could get me off the hook. You want to come by for glass of wine?"
"Thanks, but I've had a very long day. How about tomorrow?"
"That sounds fine. Are you going to suggest to Bitsy that she hire some security people?"
"I already called and reported the fire to her and suggested it," Mel said, his voice fading with weariness. "She says she doesn't think she can afford it. So much has already gone wrong and it's costing her much more than she planned, she says."
"She has a point. But I worry that the next little trick might actually harm or kill someone."
"So do I." His words ended in a yawn. "Janey, I'm falling into bed in three seconds."
"Sleep well," Jane said softly.
She rang up Shelley to report what Mel had told her.
"I'm glad we were there before it got out of hand," Shelley said.
"Why are you talking funny?" Jane asked.
"I'm putting this new gunk I bought for wrinkles on my face and I don't want to get it all over the phone," she explained.
"Did you get me some, too?"
"I did. I'll give you your bottle tomorrow."
"Do you still want to go on with this job?" Jane asked.
"The wrinkle project? Of course."
"No, I mean the House of Seven Mabels." Jane realized she'd fallen into Shelley's habit of calling it that.
"I've been thinking about it," Shelley said thoughtfully. "I wish Bitsy would hop to it and show us the revised contract. If it's too good to pass up, which I doubt, we'd make a lot of money to spend on ourselves."
Jane was silent for a moment. Shelley's husband made tons of money and wasn't the least bit stingy with it. So that wasn't the real reason Shelley was sticking with this idiocy. Jane wondered if Shelley truly looked forward to the whole shopping thing that much or if she was doing it for her. Jane was comfortable with her income from the pharmacies but probably could be more financially secure with a real job and more money. Was that on Shelley's mind as well?
"I guess we'll just have to see what happens next," Jane said. "You don't suppose Bitsy would
ever consider just giving this up and selling it back to the township to tear down?"
"I wouldn't think so," Shelley said. "Think of all the costs she's already paid. I think she'll hold out to the bitter end."
"Unless—"
"Unless what?"
"I can hardly bear to say it, but if she's insured the project, she might be better off if it had burned down tonight."
The silence now was on Shelley's end. Finally she said, "It's possible. She's changed a lot in the years we weren't in touch with her. I bet she hasn't bought so much as a single roll of crepe paper in five years. Who knows how desperate she is to close this bad experience? It's worth thinking about. Has Mel ever mentioned the possibility?"
"Not to me," Jane said. "But maybe I'll suggest he give it some thought."
Jane could hardly get to sleep that night. She tried forcing herself to think about the book she was writing and what Priscilla would do next. But her thoughts kept coming back to Bitsy. She'd never seriously suspected Bitsy until a second before she spoke the words to Shelley. If Sandra's death was an accident, which she didn't think for a moment, then what was the point of all the nasty pranks afterward?
Maybe it really did come back to Bitsy's ex-
husband. The single time she'd seen him, Jane had taken an instant and intense dislike to him. He'd been clearly gloating over Bitsy's apparent failure to get on with the job. Was it possible he had nothing to do with Sandra's death, but was responsible for the other incidents?
The house had been fully accessible to anyone who wanted to get in to put the shrimp in the ducts. He could have done it or hired someone to do it for him. After Joe Dudley took over as contractor and the locks were changed and windows boarded up, the "pranks" took place outside. Salting the concrete. Starting the fire.
But if Budley had nothing to do with Sandra's death, who climbed through the dense shrubs, went down the virtually invisible coal chute, and brought the purse back?
As she thought back, she was wrong. The toolbox with the fake bomb showed up at the house, and so did Sandra's purse, after Budley took over.
Did it really have to be one and only one person? Or was it some sort of conspiracy? Maybe even several people, unknown to each other, grinding their own axes?
When Shelley and Jane had both finished their morning car pools, Jane went over to Shelley's house with a legal pad and pen. "We're going to make a timeline. Maybe that will show us something we've forgotten."
But Shelley sidetracked her with the anti-wrinkle cream. "Try it."
"Not now. I've already put my makeup on."
"No, you haven't."
"I thought I had," Jane said, trying to remember the morning rush. The kids had both gotten up late and both their schools took tardiness seriously. "Smells good," she said, rubbing a little bit of it under her eyes.
"They say within a week you'll see a difference. If this house thing doesn't pan out, maybe we could become reps and sell the stuff," Shelley said with a laugh.
"Yeah, right. Door to door, I assume. No thank you."
"So, we're making another of your legendary lists?" Shelley asked. It was a running joke. Jane was a compulsive list maker.
"Not exactly a list. More like a couple of charts. Okay, let's start with everyone involved in the renovation and what we know about them. First is Bitsy. I'll make a note across from her name regarding possible motives. An insurance scam, for one."
"Don't you need another column for reasons these people aren't the ones responsible?" Shelley suggested.
"Good idea. See? You're already contributing. We mark Bitsy as the one who stands to profit the most in the last column."
"Are you considering Sandra?"
"I suppose we could list her, but she was already dead before most of the things happened."
"Put her down anyway. The object is to be thorough, right? To jar us into some conclusions or things to find out."
Jane put Sandra's name down. Under Sandra, she also added the thugs who collected the rents for the previous owners. Not by name, of course.
"We know nothing about them and never will," Shelley objected.
"But they could be behind everything that's happened. Wanting to get their lucrative jobs back."
Shelley just shrugged. "It's your list."
"Jacqueline Hunt is next. What motive could she have?"
"None," Shelley said. "She was one of the victims, remember. She got a shock when she plugged in the planer."
"That doesn't necessarily exclude her from things that happened later. Maybe revenge for someone she thought set her up for the shock."
"Jane, don't you think it's unlikely that several people are vandalizing the house and endangering others?"
"Unlikely, but possible. Just go with the flow, Shelley. If we're wasting time, we'll know it when we get the charts done."
"Charts? Plural?" Shelley groaned.
"The second one is going to be the order bad things happened. So we'll put possible revenge for getting shocked."
"Jane, that doesn't make sense. Which stunt do you imagine she did? It could only be some of them aimed at Bitsy. Jacqueline is proud of her work and certainly would want to see it completed. She's also making money from Bitsy. Why would she jeopardize a good job?"
"Okay, okay," Jane said grumpily. "I'll cross out revenge. I guess we mark nothing for Henrietta Smith, either. You could say the same for her. They work as a pair. What about Wesley Woodly, the furnace guy? He certainly had nothing but contempt for both Bitsy and Sandra."
"But the furnace and air conditioning are working now. And he's been paid and is no longer on the job. Why would he care what happens to the project?" Shelley objected again.
"Because there's the other side of the upstairs still to be done and the whole downstairs. He's only temporarily off the job. Maybe he's so desperate to avoid coming back, he'd sabotage the whole deal," Jane said smugly.
"I'll reluctantly give you that one."
"Will you also give me the two women who were throwing up in the front yard?"
"No."
"Okay. Then we come to my favorite. Bitsy's ex-husband, Neville."
"Put him down," Shelley said. "He's got the best motive to wreck Bitsy's project. A man scorned, and thinking it's really his hard-earned
money that's funding this project. Now, are we done with this chart?"
"We've hardly begun," Jane said.
Shelley put her head down on the kitchen table and pretended to weep.
Twenty-four
Next are the people doing the sheetrock. Carl Stringfield."
"We know nothing about him. We've only been introduced to him once," Shelley countered.
"So he's blank for now. But we need to speak to him. Or find out about him from Evaline. She's next on the list, and we know a lot about her."
The House of Seven Mabels jj-13 Page 12
