“Okay.” Jane’s head was spinning. He wanted her forever, but he wasn’t asking her to marry him. He was moving to Canada, but she still had to finish school. But he loved her. And, at the back of her mind, the question of the blonde lady at the Swanson house was begging to be answered.
“I’ve got to go, Jane. Class starts in three minutes.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.” He paused. “Don’t just say okay again.”
“Okay.” Jane sighed, her body relaxing with the released breath. “I mean, I love you, too.”
“I will call you the minute class is over, okay?”
“Yes! Please do.”
“I love you!” Isaac laughed as he hung up.
Jane stared at her phone. What had just happened, and what had just changed? She didn’t know, but she did know that she felt a thousand times happier than she had in weeks.
She turned to look at her team. Paula was speaking, but Kaitlyn was stealing glances at Jane. Jane made a tiny wave with her hand, and tilted her head to the exit door.
Kaitlyn frowned.
Jane shrugged. Then she left. The team needed to get on with it without her. She didn’t know what it would mean for her future, but she did know it was the right thing for her present.
Jane went straight home, downloaded her pictures, and enlarged them. They were pretty fuzzy, as she didn’t have any special software to use on them. But the blonde woman looked familiar. More than familiar. And yet, she couldn’t place where she knew her from. She tried to get the image clearer; if the cops were coming soon to look around her house, she wanted to have the pictures ready.
The woman in the picture—the almost-clear picture she had nabbed through the side window of the house, had big, round, familiar eyes. Pale and pretty, but kind of buggy at the same time.
Jane flipped over to the website for the Gresham Mayor’s office again, but Mary-Grace, the woman who wasn’t the blonde from the pictures in Douglas’s house, didn’t have eyes like these.
Jane shifted in her seat. She had a prickly feeling in the back of her neck like someone was watching her. She turned, but the curtains were drawn and the apartment was empty. The stolen bracelet weighed on her mind. Was she or was she not safe at home? And was she in any more danger at the Swanson house?
Amy Swanson seemed reasonable, like someone she could talk to. Especially since she had a restraining order against Joe the jeweler. She wouldn’t have stolen a bracelet from a man she went to the police to keep away from her. Jane tapped her foot on the rung of her chair. She could go talk to Amy right now, or she could wait until the following day and chat with her as she went about her regular cleaning duties.
After all, technically she hadn’t been fired from the job. Knocked about a bit, sure, but not fired.
Jane scrolled through her phone pictures one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed any. While doing so, it rang again.
It was Isaac.
“Hey.” She tried to sound casual, but a wave of heat started in her stomach and washed over her. Even her toes tingled.
“I called as soon as class was out.” Isaac sounded breathless. On the one hand, Jane wondered if he had fit in a quick game of soccer, but then again, maybe he had run out of class to call her. “I’ve been such a jerk all month.”
“No…” Jane bit her lip. This morning she would have agreed.
“Yes, I really have. But the thing is, the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve been having one frustrating argument with God.”
Jane frowned. “Really?” She moved to the sofa and curled up in the corner. She itched to have a conversation with Amy Swanson, but the urgency of the situation was fading.
“All month, He’s been saying that I have to want His will more than my own, even if that meant I couldn’t have you. I’ve been making a claim that the two of us could have it all, if God wanted us to.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“And I was getting mad about it—like God was on your side instead of mine—and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
Jane rubbed her eyes. She didn’t have the heart for a puzzle.
“I’m sorry I didn’t take some of your calls, or call you back when I could have.”
“Oh.” The memory of many anxious moments waiting for his calls was still fresh.
“Don’t say ‘Oh.’ Yell at me or something. I deserve it.”
“I am too tired to yell at you.” Her first flush of excitement was fading as the urgency to talk to Amy Swanson had. Maybe she did just need to go to bed. “I forgive you for not calling me back.” She did a heart check. Still just tired. Not mad. “I understand what you’ve been feeling. I’ve been hard at it, too. I keep wrestling with why God made me want to serve him overseas but hasn’t seen fit to use me yet.”
“And why did he let me fall in love with you when we don’t have the same plans for the future?” Isaac added. “I’ve been wondering for a long time if I was being a jerk dating you.”
“You know what I like the least in all of this?” Jane released her hair from her ponytail and let it fall around her face. “I don’t like that my mom will be right. She never believed I’d be a missionary.”
Isaac laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. But you’re right. She never believed you would.”
“So, what if I’ve been trying to be something God doesn’t want me to be just to show my mom I was right?”
“Or what if God planted the seeds in you so you could get the training you need for a job he has in mind for you—in the future.”
“That’s what I console myself with.” Jane combed through her hair with her fingers. “I scrub toilets now so I can spread the gospel later.”
“I think that’s pretty cool.” Isaac’s voice was relaxed, like life at his island seminary suited him.
“It’s easy to admire when you aren’t the one scrubbing.”
“You won’t have to scrub toilets in Montreal.”
Jane smiled. Montreal was better than joining her parents in their early retirement life in Phoenix. “And after Montreal?”
“Who knows? Professors get sabbaticals and long summers and research trips to far off lands. Who knows how God could use this for us.”
“You start this year?”
“Yup.”
Jane sighed.
“You can transfer your credits there.”
“One major conciliation at a time, okay? For the moment, let’s imagine that I finish what I start.” Jane rolled her neck from side to side. She was out of school for the summer, but that didn’t mean she wanted to abandon her program to follow her man.
“Whatever you say. Now listen, this is important.”
“Yes?” Jane sat up. It had better be life or death if it wanted to be considered important in light of her current goings on.
“You are in a crisis and I have been ignoring you. Please tell me everything that is going on with the Swanson situation and what I can do to help.”
His words flooded her heart with relief and put a smile on her face. She lay back on the sofa and told him every last detail. Before they said goodnight, he had confirmed her plan to talk to Amy in the morning, but added his advice to not go alone.
Jane went to bed and squeezed her eyes shut like a child pretending to sleep. Her heart was racing, her mind was spinning. There wasn’t one thing on her plate that made rational sense or fit into her own plan for her life. She tried to pray, to both calm her mind and to focus on what really mattered, but all she could say was “thank you” over and over again.
23
The next morning, Jane served Gemma and Stephanie steaming cups of cappuccino, crisp, buttery English muffins, and yogurt.
“This is nice. Early, but nice.” Gemma rubbed her eyes.
Jane tried not to stare at Stephanie. Somewhere in the middle of rejoicing over her newly not-engaged-but-basically-engaged status, she had realized where she had seen the eyes of the mystery blonde before.
Stephanie.
Stephanie wore black hipster glasses, but that didn’t hide the pale blue, pop eyes that were behind them.
Jane had theorized the night before that Stephanie made liberal use of mascara, and/or fake lashes, and that was what had kept Jane from pinning the resemblance down immediately. She was using an early breakfast to try and catch her guest make-up free.
It worked.
If Stephanie was the key to the murder, she was a cool operator. From her natural relationship with Gemma, to her excitement over the stolen jewels, she seemed legitimate.
Jane needed to get under her skin, to up-end her complacency. From the phone to the letters, to the missing hamper, Jane knew she was being set up, and who better to do it than the girl sleeping in her bed? Her instinct was crying out to drag Stephanie to the Swansons’ to see if Stephanie would crack under the pressure.
Gemma chuckled at something Stephanie had muttered under her breath. Jane chewed on the inside of her cheek. Gemma and Stephanie appeared to have a real friendship.
She could be wrong about Stephanie. Fortunately, nothing she had planned for the day would hurt Stephanie—if she was who she said she was.
Jane took a sip of her coffee. Then she looked at her watch. Then she coughed lightly, and fingered her stitches. As soon as Stephanie and Gemma looked up she smiled conspiratorially. “So… Caramel has not told me to stop coming in in the mornings to open the house.”
“Jane… what are you thinking? She tried to run you over.” Gemma took a big crunchy bite of her English muffin.
“I’m thinking she’s cracked, and if I go now, I might be able to find some crucial evidence to connect her to the murder.” Jane sipped her coffee again. She made a discreet glance in Stephanie’s direction. Stephanie appeared preoccupied with her phone.
“Breaking news on the Swanson case,” Stephanie said, looking up for a second.
Jane leaned forward to see the screen. “Really?”
Stephanie held the phone out, but the screen was small. Jane thought she recognized the logo of the local paper, but couldn’t read the text from across the table.
“Have they made an arrest?” Gemma asked.
“They announced the funeral.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “That’s breaking news?”
“I’d say so. They wouldn’t release the body for the funeral if there was still a suspect, right?” Stephanie shook her head while she spoke, a little quirk that made Jane doubt her words.
“That hasn’t been my experience.” Jane dusted the crumbs off of her hands. “So, can I ask you guys to join me at the Swansons’ today? I just don’t want to go alone.” Jane widened her eyes, hoping it made her look vulnerable.
“Of course.” Gemma smiled. “I don’t know how much help we’ll be, but if nothing else we can sit in the car, and you can call us in if you get scared.”
“We could be the getaway drivers.” Stephanie’s face was shiny. Was she sweating?
“Oh no, I really can’t go in the house alone. Couldn’t you come with me? Since you want to take on some houses, I could say I was training you.”
“And I can stick in the car and be the getaway driver. I’ll wear my dark glasses and a wig, or at least a hat.” Stephanie giggled a little.
“Honest, I’d be scared to leave you out there. Just come in with us, and we probably won’t have to explain anything.” Jane leaned forward and whispered, “What I really want to do is goad Caramel into saying something. I’ll be so much more confident with you all in the house.”
Gemma set down her cup. “I’m in. I know I owe you for all the times you spot the rent. And Steph, you owe her for that comfy bed. Let’s get dressed and get this over with.”
“Thank you soo much.” Jane picked up her coffee cup and smiled.
Stephanie stretched, and popped her back. She chewed her lip, and looked over her shoulder. Jane marked each tiny movement. Were they evidence of her chronic pain issues or evidence that she was nervous about going to the Swansons’? Right now, it was anyone’s guess.
A text came through from Isaac while the girls were getting dressed. “Just hi.”
“Off to catch a killer.” Jane read her note and then went to delete it, but hit send instead.
“WHAT!”
“Today’s the day. I have a hunch. Pray!”
“Si!”
“& I love you.” She bit her lip.
“I am PRAYING you don’t get killed, because I love you!”
“I won’t.” She worked her jaw back and forth. She wasn’t likely to get killed in a house full of people… was she?
Stephanie came back out, dressed in sweats, sneakers, and big, dark sunglasses.
Jane shoved her phone in her pocket. She forced a smile.
The drive to the Swansons’ was tense. Jane was on her third cup of coffee, and her hands were shaking.
“Can you drive through Bean Me Up Scotty’s really fast?” Stephanie pointed toward the coffee shop up the street.
“We can drink the Swanson’s coffee. They don’t mind.” Jane merged to the left, keeping her distance from the coffee shop.
“My blood sugar is a little low…” Stephanie leaned her head against the window.
Gemma threw her a granola bar from the back seat. “Perk up. Jane needs us!” Gemma sat on the edge of her seat, straining the seat belt. “What’s the game plan?”
Jane picked up her travel mug, but her hand was shaking so badly, she set it back down. “I need to play it by ear, sorry!” From the corner of her eye, Jane thought she saw Stephanie shiver.
At the house, Jane established Gemma and Stephanie in the kitchen. As a cover, she pulled a housecleaning blog up on her phone. Were a member of the household to enter the room, the two women were to appear to be reading the tips of the trade and could say they were there to be trained.
Jane went through the motions. She made coffee, opened the curtains, and went to the office to turn on the equipment. The room had changed again. This time, piles of books had been added to it, perhaps from Douglas’s work office, wherever that might be. Jane whipped a rag out of her apron pocket and dusted the top of the nearest pile. Perhaps something stuck discretely into a book from his work office would reveal what she needed to know.
She knelt on the thick carpet and dusted the spines of the books, checking for any loose papers that might have been slipped between the covers.
The first stack was barren, but the second stack looked like it had some promise. The bottom of the stack was a leather-bound, three-ring binder, stuffed to overflowing.
“Whoops!” Jane knocked the stack down and looked over her shoulder.
She ignored the fallen books for a moment and opened the binder. The top pages were some kind of outline. Jane didn’t read it, but scanned it and the other pages for handwritten notes, phone numbers, anything. Then she dug through the pockets pulling out every scrap that had been tucked inside. Most were just scribbles, but some had dates and names. Jane turned back to the first page of the outline and began comparing. If she had to guess, she’d say Douglas had been working on his autobiography.
“Excuse me?”
Jane flushed. “I knocked this stack of books over.” Jane slid the pieces of paper into the pockets.
“And I watched you open that book up and read it. What are you doing?” Amy stood with her feet apart and her arms crossed over her chest.
“I’m just putting it away.” Jane shut the book and stood up.
“What are you doing here?”
“Opening the house… I mean, I know it was rough last time I was here, but I really need my job.” Jane heard something fall in the kitchen. She frowned. Now was not a good time for her friends to draw attention to themselves.
“I think you need to leave.” Amy scowled. She had dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn’t been sleeping well, and her thick red hair was pulled back in a scraggly bun.
“Do you think I can have my last paycheck first?” J
ane pulled out the first reason she could think of to stay.
“You tried to have Caramel arrested.” Amy held her position in the middle of the doorway.
“I really didn’t. I was just scared.” Jane let her hand drift to her face again, lightly touching her wound. “I don’t want to lose my job.”
Amy cleared her throat. “Listen, I don’t not like you. But it was foolish to come here. Especially if you are just poking around in my family’s business. If you leave now, I won’t mention you were here.” Amy took a step back into the hallway. “And I’ll make sure you get paid. Okay?”
Jane shook her head. “I feel like I ought to at least finish the job.” She bent down and picked up the notebook.
Amy flew forward and grabbed the book. “Let me have that.” She pressed it to her chest and took a deep breath. “Go ahead and finish today’s work. Just… make this the last day.” She started down the hall, then stopped, and turned around. “Sorry about that.”
“I understand.” Jane straightened the rest of the books, mostly encyclopedias and biographies.
Jane turned on the computer, the whirring buzz as it came to life was drowned out by another crash from the kitchen. Jane ran for the door, but tripped over the stack of books. She scrambled back up and threw herself into the kitchen in time to see the back door swinging and a coffee mug in pieces on the floor. She could hear voices screaming.
She paused for a second and considered calling for help, but ran instead. She could see Gemma and Amy down the field a stretch, but where was Stephanie?
Gemma and Amy swung hard left, so Jane did, too, hoping to cut diagonal and catch up with the girls, who were only a couple of hundred feet ahead of her.
As soon as she was close enough she reached for Gemma’s elbow.
A bang like a gun sounded and Gemma fell to the ground, her hands over her head.
Jane dropped, too. She threw herself on her cousin, as though she could protect her from what had just happened.
Jane felt Gemma’s head for blood, daring to hope that she wouldn’t find any. If Gemma died from this stunt…
Dirty Little Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 2) Page 18
