“Please, if you could just answer one more question…why does Del have a criminal record?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking, don’t worry. He just smuggled a lot of weed in from Canada. It wasn’t a violent crime.” Beth gave Jane’s arm a squeeze and then joined Rose of Sharon.
Jane made her way to Jake, one eye on Del.
At the family table, Doug grasped Del’s hand in a two-fisted shake and pulled him in for a hug. Did Doug have any clue that Del had just murdered his mother?
Jane dragged Jake away from his hobnobbing and found a quiet spot in the corner of the foyer. She relayed everything she had learned from Beth and then took a deep breath. “Well? What do you think?”
“If that had happened to Phoebe, I’d be mad too.”
“Should we watch him, though? What if he tries something here? Maybe to the teacher in charge that day or something?”
“I’d be mad, Jane, but then I’d grow up, like Del did. And I wouldn’t kill someone.” Jake put his arm around Jane’s waist. “But great detective skills.”
“I think Del just became the number one suspect in a major way. No one-hundred-thousand-dollar judgment could compare with a sister who was permanently disabled.” Jane shivered.
“You can say that because you’ve never owed anyone one hundred thousand dollars.”
“If money was such a problem, how could he leave such a big donation at the event?”
“Maybe his money problems are over.” Jake had an eye on the reception hall while they talked.
“Then why kill Michelle? I don’t think Jason Miter did it.” Jane chewed her lip.
“Any other reasonable suspects?”
“Do you know anything about Yuri Bean?”
“Is that a hipster band?”
“Nope, he’s a Helper I met at the event. His wife was a nervous wreck and he acted very suspiciously. Plus, he’s here at the funeral.” Jane tried to spot him the crowd but couldn’t.
“Do you have a motive for him?”
“Not yet.”
Jake shrugged. “Then let’s get back in there and get chatting. I’ve learned more about Lake Oswego’s Montessori school set than I ever guessed there was to know.”
“Did you learn anything to the point?”
“I learned that the table just behind the door there is shocked that Jason Miter and his wife would dare show up at this funeral. If I were you, I’d avoid that table. Once they get started, they don’t stop.” Jake directed Jane to an almost empty table in the back. “And I learned from Tammy Miter, Jason’s wife, that they are appealing the judgment. She said that they have paid all of their back bills now—sold some property at the beach to do it—and she’s hoping to get the rest of the fees tossed out, especially as the plaintiff is dead.”
“Whoa.”
“Exactly. Owing a person a lot of money seems like a possible motive. But if you throw in the death as a reason to get the judgment reversed, you go from could-be to really hot motive.”
Though they whispered, the man in the brown suit sitting on the other side of the long rectangle lifted his eyebrow. “Think you know who did it?”
Jane blushed.
Jake smiled. “Maybe.”
“So do I.” The stranger moved to a closer chair. “See that woman over there?” He pointed at a short, round blonde woman.
“That’s Tammy Miter,” Jake said.
“Keep an eye on her. She’s acting very guilty.”
“And who are you?” Jane whispered.
“Detective Benedict.” He offered his hand. “I hate to say it, since you’re both so young, and seem to not understand how far whispers carry, but you have done a pretty good job in a very short time.”
Jane grinned.
“Can I see your ID?” Jake asked.
Detective Benedict pulled out his wallet and showed his police ID.
“Were you teasing us about Tammy Miter?” Jane scrunched her mouth.
“I might have been. But I have to say, you guys have made a lot of valid points throughout the whole funeral. It has been worth it to me to shadow you.”
Jane scratched her head. “So, I’m a criminal justice student at Portland State, and I’m planning on going into private detection. What do I do now? I mean, if I have a strong theory and decent evidence, what am I supposed to do with it?”
“A private investigator, eh? You put it in a manila envelope and exchange it for a check in a dark alley.”
Jane inhaled sharply. “Not like that. More like a…consulting detective.”
“Like Sherlock, huh? That’s a good show.”
Jake shook his head, subtly. The detective was mostly making fun of them, but Jane wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. “Listen, I just want to know what’s the best way of getting any information to the police. Is there a certain office that likes to take tips? A particular rank of cop I should ask for? I don’t want to do this wrong.”
Detective Benedict smiled, but just with his lips. “If it’s a case we are actively working on, you’re already doing it wrong. But feel free to call the main phone line and pass off any info you gather.” He left the table, hands in his pockets. Smug.
“He’s not going to be my insider, I guess.” Jane rested her chin on her hands.
“Guess not.”
“And I guess I need some proper evidence before I call in with a tip, since Detective Benedict all but said he had listened in to both of our theories.” Jane scanned the room again for Yuri Bean. “We don’t have any advantage over the police now.”
“Never did.”
“Probably true. But we need to get the advantage, so let’s see if we can bring the crisis to a head.”
“Like bait the suspects into a confession?”
“Got a better idea?”
“Nope.” Jake stood up. “Who first?”
The Willis clan were seated with a dozen slightly threatening-looking protester types. The Miters—just Jason and Tammy—were alone. “Let’s go thank Mr. and Mrs. Miter for their generous donation, yes?” Jane took Jake’s arm.
“Sounds good to me.”
17
Jake kept a protective arm around Jane’s waist as they walked to the table where the Miters sat, alone.
“Hey Jason, this is my wife, Jane. Tell her Trillium will be fine.”
Jason extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Jane squared her shoulders. It was a cover story; that made it okay to lie, right? “Thanks.”
“Jake was telling us that your daughter will start at Trillium next year.”
Jane did her best to keep a straight face. “I’m just not so sure anymore.”
Jake squeezed. “Babe, you had Tulip on the waiting list for a year. You’ve got to let her go now.”
“Tulip,” Jane said, barely stifling a gag, “could always go to the preschool at Prez Elementary, where we went.”
“Trillium is a great school. It’s worth every sacrifice.” Tammy sniffled into a tissue. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“But will it be the same without Michelle? I mean, I know she didn’t live here anymore, but she still had an influence…she was still alive.” Jane choked up a little. Tammy’s grief seemed so real.
“I just wish we could have resolved our legal issues before she passed.” Jason’s voice was gravelly, as though he barely had his emotions in control.
“I think she understood our dilemma though, honey.” Tammy patted her husband’s arm. “She did what she had to do, and we understood.” Tammy’s eyes welled up again.
They seemed sad, and maybe in la-la land about how much the director of the school they habitually shafted really understood their situation, but they didn’t seem…guilty.
“It is an expensive school.” Jane used a wistful tone. “Part of me thinks it would be wiser to bank the money for college and just homeschool Tulip.”
“We’ve talked about this before, Janey,” Jake said. “We don’t want to have
one of those weird homeschooled kids.”
Tammy laughed. “My kids aren’t weird.”
“Don’t listen to him, Tammy,” Jane said with a smile. “His ex-wife homeschools, and he’s really mad about it.”
Jason frowned.
“Er…they aren’t his kids.” Jane looked at Jake helplessly. As newlyweds with a preschooler they were just barely believable…as a second marriage…
“Still a little bitter about being jilted.” Jake chuckled. “And for such an old guy too…” He laughed in a knowing kind of way, and Jason relaxed. Jake had such an easygoing manner with his lies…just enough detail to make it sound like he had said his ex-wife left him for an old rich guy with kids, but not so many details that it sounded like a lie. He was kind of the master of the cover story.
“If it’s between Trillium and homeschooling,” Tammy said, “I’d recommend homeschooling all the way. I don’t regret one minute I’ve spent teaching my kids.”
Jane nodded slowly. “I’m really leaning that way.”
“You should call me. We can get together for coffee or something. I love helping moms start out.” Tammy pulled a phone from her purse.
So far they had failed to make the Miters even hint at guilt, much less confess all. Jane tried to turn her head and find Del, but Tammy was asking for the number.
Jane accepted her phone and typed in a number that was just a digit off. She smiled. “Thanks.”
The room was thinning now, and the table full of protesters was empty.
They crunched their way across the frosty gravel to the Jag Jake had inherited when his parents died. “If it wasn’t the Miters, it just had to be Del. But how can we prove it now?” Jane clicked her seat buckle.
“You’re going to have to pray hard about it.” Jake pulled into the almost-stopped traffic. “You’re really leaning towards being a homeschooling detective-missionary?”
“You’d name our only daughter Tulip?”
***
Jane spent the rest of the afternoon drumming her fingers, praying for inspiration, and getting ready for Jake’s family New Year’s Eve party.
Gemma lurked silently in the living room while Jane ran around looking for her earrings. She moped on the couch while Jane tried desperately to put curls in her stick-straight hair.
Gemma perched on the edge of the bathtub while Jane attempted to create subtle cat’s eyes with her new liquid liner.
“We’re going to have to come to some kind of new housing arrangement.”
“What?” Jane turned her head, smearing the liner.
“I can’t live with you if you’re with Jake.”
“But I’m not really with Jake.” Jane sucked in a sharp breath. Yes, she was. She was absolutely with Jake now. And probably had been, in her heart, for quite a while.
“Spare me.”
“It’s not like we’re dating, Gemma.” Which was true. Because kissing and canoodling wasn’t exactly the same thing as dating.
“Because it’s been two days since you jumped him at the party. You haven’t had time to go on a date yet.”
Gemma had a point. Jane’s heart sank. “Are you asking me to move out?”
Gemma shrugged. “You and I—we’re more than just friends, aren’t we?”
“We’re family.” Jane wiped the black liner off of her face. She looked better natural, anyway.
“But we’ve always been good friends, too.”
“Of course.” Jane spritzed herself with a little White Musk—the only scent she had. Gemma would get over her funk. She had to. It wasn’t like she had stolen Jake from her or anything. This Jake thing was fate. Predestination. It couldn’t have been avoided.
“Well, you broke the code. Friends don’t go after each other’s men.”
Jane gritted her teeth. “Oh, grow up.” She stopped. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Excuse me?”
Jane squared her shoulders, yet another of her constant attempts to appear more confident than she felt. “He tried to let you know nicely that he wasn’t interested. He really did.”
“That still doesn’t make it right for you to go after him.”
“I never went after him, I swear. I avoided him. I ignored him. I did everything I could to avoid falling for him.”
“You played games with him, then.”
Jane put her lipstick down. “I didn’t.”
“Rent is due next week. After that, move out.” Gemma walked out without a backwards glance.
Last time she had found herself homeless, she had moved into Jake’s family home. This time, that didn’t seem like the wisest idea.
***
Jake’s family party was larger than Jane expected. The party was upstairs at the old family house in Laurelhurst—in the ballroom she hadn’t seen since the funeral for Jake’s parents. Jake seemed to have cousins, and friends of cousins, spilling out of every corner.
The only person Jane recognized was Phoebe. Rather than cling to Phoebe, or Jake, who seemed to be in a place of complete Zen as party host, she hung back, in what had once been a small card room, googling the Willis family.
She couldn’t find anything about Isis’s peanut allergy incident on old news sites or on allergy blogs. She did learn that permanent brain damage was a rare, but real, potential risk of an anaphylactic shock reaction to anything, including peanuts.
Poor Isis.
And poor Rose of Sharon as well.
But what about Del? How protective had Isis’s much-older brother been?
The DJ switched from Frank Sinatra to Bruno Mars. The lights went down and the disco ball flashed bright snowflakes of light around the ballroom. Midnight was near.
Jake peeked around the door frame. “Put away the case for one song, Jane.”
He always made her smile. Even before the other party. She hadn’t told him about the homelessness situation yet. Her heart fluttered in her chest just to look at him. She pushed the phone aside. “Sure. Why not.”
“Come dance, it’s our song.” He took her by the hand and led her to the center of the action.
Jake could dance.
He spun her and turned her and dipped her until she was dizzy. “Our song?” She was breathless, but managed to ask as he pulled her against his chest.
“I think I wanna marry you,” Jake sang along as he spun her again.
She closed her eyes, but all she saw was the other ring. It was too soon—way too soon—for talking like this.
He pulled her back in and wrapped both arms around her. “I know what you’re thinking. Every time I look at you, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s our song. You know it is. I’ve been planning on marrying you for a long time now.”
“Maybe I need more dancing juice?”
Jake kissed her. “No. Not you. All you need is a little more time.”
She felt completely sheltered in his arms, even though he moved too fast—around the dance floor, in life, whatever. His lips never seemed to leave her neck, her cheek, her lips, but his touch was light, a hint of a kiss, a nuzzle, almost imperceptible. He turned with her, slowly around the room, and then stood still.
She was close enough to whisper anything, and no one else in the crowded room would know what she said. “Gemma kicked me out.”
“Guilting me into a rush wedding won’t work. You deserve the real deal.” Jake grinned.
“That’s not what I meant.” She swatted his bottom.
“That’s just going to make me say it again.”
“Never mind.”
The song changed, and Jane rested her head on his shoulder. He swayed in place like it was a junior high dance.
“I will never let you be homeless, you know that, right?”
“Mmm.” His words were nice, and she believed him. But of course she wouldn’t take a hand out.
“I’ve got a lot of restaurants you could clean for rent money.” He nibbled her ear.
“It’s time to count down!” the DJ hollered.
“Ten!” the whole crowd shouted in one voice.
She counted in her head. The New Year did not look anything like she pictured. By the count of five, Jake had managed to ease her to the back of the crowd, a darker, more private corner.
“Listen, Jane, I know you don’t take help, but whatever. That’s lame, by the way. Anything you need, okay? Whatever I have is yours. And…if you wanted to—”
“One!”
Jane didn’t want to hear him propose, so she put both of her hands on his face and kissed him like they were playing sardines again.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Without stopping for a breath, he carried her to the card room where he had found her.
He dropped her on the table and stepped away. “Phew.” He panted. “No more of that, all right?”
Jane was hot. She knew her face was red. Her heart beat so hard it made her rib cage shake. “Yeah. Yes. You’re right.”
“I’m right.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Of course. No more of that.”
“Right.” He stepped closer, and rested his fingertips on the table she sat on.
“Nope.”
“Exactly.”
“Because.”
“Of course. Exactly.” He leaned down and kissed her again.
“Crap.”
“Exactly.” Jake smiled, and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’ve got to…do something else now.” He left.
Jane buried her head in her hands. This was going to be a problem.
***
Jane bunked in her old room that night. The Crawfords hadn’t had live-in help—a real live-in maid—for at least a generation, but they kept the little staff bedrooms furnished for extra guest beds.
She had a feeling that Jake knew she was there. She was only a little disappointed that he didn’t come visit—because, really.
That would have been a problem.
Despite not having any of the “dancing juice” she suspected had been available last night, she had a headache. Gemma’s roommate-drama tantrum wasn’t going to be a long-term problem. Gemma would get over it as soon as she needed Jane to front her a month’s rent. But the situation with Del…getting away with murder…that had weighed on her for most of the few hours she spent in bed.
Bright New Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery Page 12
