Dirty Little Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 2)

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  Jane stared at him. What was his game this time?

  She pulled her eyes away, and meandered slowly into the mall lunch crowd. She couldn’t call him tonight. His number was stored in the waterlogged phone being held as evidence in the murder of Douglas Swanson.

  After her mall recon and meet-up with Kaitlyn, Jane popped over to Paula’s house. She still wanted to find a way she could serve the woman who had given her whole life to missionary work. She had yet to figure out what it was Paula wanted or needed, but she was determined to keep trying.

  At the house, Paula led Jane into the kitchen. “How are the plans for your small group ministry going?”

  Jane accepted a cup of coffee. “Slowly.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I think our idea is… complicated.” Jane took a sip of coffee and watched Paula’s eyes. While Paula was looking in Jane’s general direction, she had a distant, almost vacant look on her face. She wasn’t truly in the moment. “Kaitlyn wants to do something pretty unique, Valerie isn’t convinced it’s a good idea, and I can’t quite tell how it would work, even though I came up with it.”

  “Do you think it is worth attempting?”

  “Yes? Maybe? I mean, it’s certainly a noble idea.”

  “Noble is good. Perhaps you three have stumbled onto something entirely new. New can be hard for people to wrap their minds around.”

  But was reaching out to youth new? Jane pondered that. Sunday School was invented to reach out to children who weren’t being brought to church. Then there was AWANA. And the Boys and Girls clubs were around to connect with kids at loose ends. Not to mention all the variations of scouting programs available. And youth groups—the most obvious outreach to teenagers of all. Was there really anything new to what Kaitlyn was proposing?

  “You’re quiet… what are you thinking?”

  “I’m just wondering if the idea is truly new. Maybe it’s an old idea that we are making harder than it needs to be.”

  “How much time have you all spent praying over it together?”

  Jane looked down at her cup. “None.”

  “No wonder the job seems too big.” Paula took her coffee cup to the sink. “If you don’t mind my giving you a little advice, I recommend getting together for prayer. No planning, no brainstorming, just prayer.”

  Jane chewed on her lip. “You’re right.”

  “You are wondering how you can manage it, aren’t you?”

  Jane looked up, her eyebrow lifted.

  Paula chuckled. “You’re a bit like me, I think. You don’t feel like a leader when you share responsibilities with noisier personalities. But I think if you put yourself forward—not as ‘group leader’ per se—but as the person trying to keep the job grounded in the Spirit, you will find the others follow you readily.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yup. There is a quiet strength to your personality that is very persuasive. I’ll say this, if there wasn’t, I wouldn’t have you in this group of candidates.”

  Jane’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “Really?”

  “You’re young and not very well connected. You seem to have rather vague notions about what you want to do on the mission field. But… there is something in you that makes me want to see what you do with yourself.” Despite the distant, sad look in Paula’s eyes, her smile indicated a warmth of feeling.

  Jane swallowed her disappointment. “Thank you.” Her voice was weak, but how could it not be? Rather than being part of an elite group of future missionaries sent by Columbia River Community Church, she was… What was she? Entertainment? A third wheel?

  Jane stood up, cradling her coffee mug in her hands. “I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you. I know you must be…” She trailed off. Paula gazed out the window, one hand resting on the faucet. She looked far away from the little house in East Portland.

  “Between the three of you, I’d almost think I was your outreach project.” Paula turned her eyes to Jane. “But no, I’m taken care of right now. Thank you.”

  “If there is anything at all I can do… Make a meal, come by and clean.” Jane ran her eyes over the almost spotless kitchen.

  “I’m doing okay. What would really bless me is to hear back from you after you’ve gotten the girls together to pray about your outreach. Will you give me a call as soon as you’ve met with them?”

  “Yes, of course.” Jane set her mug on the kitchen counter. “Thank you for giving me this chance. I really do appreciate it.”

  “I know you do, kiddo. That’s half the reason you are here.” Paula walked Jane to the door. Don’t forget to call me after you all get together next time, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Jane drove home with a sick stomach. She had failed to find a way to serve Paula, which wouldn’t make Kaitlyn or Isaac happy. And yet again, just when she thought she was making headway on her future, she found herself all at sea.

  9

  Jane couldn’t wallow in her disappointment too long. She had a house waiting to be cleaned. Frida and Joe Walker were ER doctors who liked Jane to come by twice a month in the evening while they were at the hospital. She hadn’t been to their house since the tragedy at the Swansons’.

  The Walker house was a three story Victorian near Good Sam Hospital in downtown Portland. It had been in the middle of renovations for over a year. Jane was fairly sure she could plaster her whole apartment with the construction dust she had vacuumed up in the short time she had been their cleaner.

  While she swept the newest layer of white dust into the newly installed toe board vacuum under the sink in the kitchen (a rather cool contraption that Jane wished more houses had) her phone rang.

  “Janey!”

  It was Isaac. A tingle of pleasure swept her whole body. “Hey!”

  “What’s with the new phone number? I went to call you, but no one answered your old number. So I checked the last time you called and it was a new number.”

  Jane detected shades of Mr. Daniels—Isaac’s dad, the judge—in the interrogation.

  “I dropped my old phone.” While she wanted to tell him all of the details of the phone-in-the-hot tub, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not after the way he acted when she called him last time.

  “Bummer. So I was thinking about your troubles.”

  Jane smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I think you should step up and maybe take over the house cleaning for Paula. I know you’re pretty busy, but since school is out, you could take on another client, right?”

  Jane put the broom back in the closet. She took the duster with the telescoping handle out of her cleaning caddy and clicked the pole out to its fullest extension and swept the corners of the dining room ceiling for cobwebs.

  “Are you there? Did I lose you?” Isaac asked.

  “No, I’m here. I offered to clean her house, but she declined.”

  “Then you should make her some meals. Something she can freeze.”

  Though Jane had offered the same thing herself, she wondered if ramen noodles froze well, since that was about all she could afford to feed herself. “She said no thanks for that too.”

  “Maybe it would do her good if you went by just to sit and listen. After all her years overseas, that might mean the most to her.” Isaac’s phone crackled while he spoke, as though he were moving in and out of cell reception.

  “I have done. I hope it helped, but what do I know?” Jane jabbed the corner with the duster, in an attempt to kill a fast little spider.

  “Glad to hear it. How’s everything else going?”

  “Fine. I haven’t heard from the police yet, so I guess they don’t need me for anything else.”

  “The police? What happened?”

  “I discovered a body, Isaac. Don’t you remember? Scene of the crime? Witness? Does this ring any bells for you?” Jane whacked the spider so hard that the plastic duster handle broke. The microfiber duster head fell to the floor with a dul
l thump. The little black spider scuttled away.

  “Don’t bite my head off, please. I’m just trying to help.”

  “Did you forget that I found a dead body floating in a hot tub?”

  “Sorry.”

  Jane let out a long, slow breath and waited for him to say something else.

  He didn’t.

  “The cops said they’d be getting in touch with me later, and they haven’t yet, so that’s kind of a relief. Maybe Douglas’s death was just an accident.”

  “Why wouldn’t it have been?”

  “I don’t know why. But grown men don’t drown in their hot tubs every day.” Jane tossed her broken duster in the cleaning caddy. She grabbed a rag and sprinkled a little lemon oil on it. She rubbed wide circles on the top of the cherry wood dining table.

  “Did it look like a murder to you?”

  Jane closed her eyes and pictured the scene. The room had been steamy, like the jets of the tub had been going recently. There had been damp towels on the floor, as though someone had been in and out of the water. Had Caramel taken a dip in the tub with her husband that morning? If so… had she left the body there for Jane to discover? Jane shuddered. “How should I know?”

  “You were there. You know more than I do.”

  Jane knelt down to oil the legs of the table.

  “I’ll call back later. You don’t seem to be in the mood to talk right now.”

  Jane chewed on her cheek. Isaac was the one in a weird mood, not her. “Fine.”

  “Talk to you later, love.”

  “Thanks.” Jane hung up before Isaac could say anything else.

  After eliminating the dust of two weeks’ worth of construction and making every antique surface in the house shine, Jane went home and went to bed. She had an early cleaning scheduled for the Swanson house. She would have loved to talk it over with Isaac, but barring that, at least she could have a good night’s sleep beforehand.

  The next morning, all was quiet at the Swanson house. Jane ran the Swiffer over the wood floors and wondered how Caramel was holding up. From the little she knew of the family, Caramel was a newer wife, like Paula, but not at all like Paula at the same time.

  Jane Swiffered over to the big, brick fireplace. Caramel and Douglas’s wedding portrait hung above it, framed in glossy black. Caramel looked about the same, but that didn’t help date the picture much, considering the effectiveness of Botox. Douglas hadn’t aged much since the picture either. And from the crease between his eyes and the many smile lines, Jane guessed he wasn’t Botoxing.

  She ran a finger across the mantle. After the construction dust of last night, this house felt spotless. And empty. She hadn’t made it upstairs to the bedrooms, or downstairs to the garage yet, but as far as she could tell, the house was unoccupied. She leaned on the handle of the lightweight dust mop. Had Caramel fled a murder charge or was she just out getting her roots done? Was she a cold-hearted killer or just a heartless widow? For some reason, Jane couldn’t picture Caramel as anything else.

  Jane and her Swiffer moved on to the office. She started at the top of the room, and dusted her way down. The desk was a mess. Jane straightened the piles, keeping everything together and in the same spot. A stack of photos dominated the mess. She picked them up carefully, keeping her fingerprints off of their glossy fronts. She didn’t want to pry, but couldn’t help noticing that the pictures were all of Douglas. Perhaps something for the funeral. A thin blonde woman shared space in most of the photos. It didn’t look like Caramel.

  Jane slid one out from the others and stared at it. Douglas and the lady were at the beach, the waves tossing behind them. From the palm trees in the distance, it was obviously not the Oregon coast.

  The lady in the picture seemed younger than Caramel. She had a clear face and the small chest and thin lips of someone who had never been to a plastic surgeon. Douglas had his arm around the lady’s waist and was laughing, his eyes directed away from the person taking the picture. Jane squinted. The lady was wearing a bikini, and though she was no expert, Jane would guess it was not still in style. So… an old picture?

  Jane scanned the rest of the photos from the stack. Almost all of them were Douglas and this lady, and they all seemed a little old. Jane set them down. It must be Douglas’s ex-wife. Perhaps Caramel was sorting through the old pictures for Douglas’s kids.

  Jane dusted around and under the piles, and then cleaned the floor. Caramel might be more thoughtful than Jane had given her credit for, but she still wanted to get out of the house before Caramel showed up.

  Jane finished the lower level and moved up to the bedrooms. She didn’t want to make a side business of cleaning up homes where someone had recently died, but she did seem to have a knack for it. Something about the loss made her want to work harder, leave the house better than normal.

  When everything upstairs that could possibly be done was done, Jane made her way back down to the basement. The garage would need sweeping, the halls needed to be vacuumed. The hot tub room would need to be cleaned. As long as she was allowed to clean it, at any rate.

  The basement was dark, but unbarred. There was no police tape or guards indicating she shouldn’t be down there.

  She was disappointed.

  The idea of seeing the hot tub made her stomach turn. But rather than put it off, she went there first. She flipped on all of the lights and stormed right up to the tub. She hefted the lid off and looked down at it, facing her fears.

  Empty.

  No one was in the pool.

  She took a deep breath, enjoying a brief moment of relief. Dusting, vacuuming, and shining all the mirrors she could… she could do that, But dipping her hand into the water to check the pH? She’d just have to make herself do it.

  When the whole room had been dealt with, she cleaned her way back to the garage. Get in, get it clean, get out. That’s all she needed to do at the Swanson house. She’d dust, Swiffer, mop, vacuum, whatever, and then get the heck out of Dodge—and maybe, if she could work up her nerve, she’d make this day her last day at the Swanson house.

  When the garage was as clean as an already-clean garage could get, Jane dumped her mop water in the utility sink. She turned the water on and rinsed out the head of the sponge mop. She had been the only person in the house the whole time she was cleaning, and yet, all three of the Swanson cars were parked in the garage. Perhaps Caramel had gone out with a friend? Not that it mattered, Jane reminded herself.

  “When you are done with that, I want to see you in the kitchen.”

  Jane jumped and dropped the sponge. She turned, the water still running behind her.

  Caramel stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, but her clothes were as bright and tight as any other time Jane had seen her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jane mentally kicked herself for mopping the spotless floor. If she had skipped that step she could have been long gone by now. She turned off the faucet, wiped down the water that had splashed when she dropped the mop head, and wished she could think of one more really big, really long job to do before she went up to the kitchen, but she couldn’t so she followed Caramel upstairs, determined to get it over with (whatever it was).

  “You are probably aware that the death of Douglas was a complete surprise to me, and to all of us.” Caramel bit her lip and looked up, to the left. The doe-eyed thing didn’t work for her.

  “Of course, it was clearly a tragic accident of some sort.”

  Caramel parted her lips and exhaled slowly. “Do you think so?”

  “I-I couldn’t really say. But it seems like it must have been some kind of surprise or accident.”

  “That is how it would seem, isn’t it?” Caramel opened the pantry door. “With the ongoing investigation into his death and the arrangements for his funeral and getting his estate in order, I’m completely overwhelmed.” Caramel affected a sad face again. “I could use someone to come in each morning and set us up for the day.” She waved to a shelf full o
f coffee bags. “Would you be able to do that until our maid returns from vacation?”

  “What kind of time commitment are you talking about?”

  “Every morning, seven days a week—it shouldn’t take more than an hour. I won’t always be here, but I don’t want the house to look vacant. I just need someone to come in and start the place up.” A look of confusion crossed Caramel’s face. She shut the pantry door.

  “Do you mean like turning lights on, watering plants, making coffee, that kind of thing?”

  “Yes, yes, that kind of thing. I can make a list for you.”

  Jane saw her freedom slip out of her fingers “It would have to be pretty early. I have other clients in the morning.”

  “So long as you’re quiet, that’s not a problem.”

  “And this is at my regular hourly rate.”

  “Fine. Just be here tomorrow.”

  Jane put out her hand to shake on it, but Caramel walked out of the room instead, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor.

  Jane looked at her empty hand, hanging there. Had she really just sold herself down the river?

  Jane spotted Caramel on the back patio, talking on her phone, as she left. As Jane loaded her cleaning supplies in the car, she listened in.

  “Can we make it tomorrow, Joey? I’m just exhausted today.” Her voice cracked.

  Jane felt for her. What would life for Caramel be like without Douglas? Not the same, that’s for sure.

  “Fine then, if you come by here. But if I were you, I’d stay away for a while longer.”

  Jane shut the door of her car, cutting off her access to the conversation. Joey was probably the brother who sold her the expensive ring, which would explain why he wasn’t welcome at the house.

  Except Douglas was dead, so Joe should be more than welcome. Broken families broke Jane’s heart. How sad for Caramel that at a time like this she thought her brother shouldn’t come around.

  10

  This time Jane went to Paula Ehlers’ house unannounced. She rang the doorbell and hoped her hunch was right. If Paula, who had spent her whole life serving others, was ever going to accept help from a kid like herself, she couldn’t have advanced warning.