Mitzy let out a long breath. The fire probably wasn’t Jane’s fault—what housekeeper checks the dryer vent before turning the machine on?
Mitzy set the fire extinguisher on the counter and joined Karina and Jane in the front yard.
“I had all of the ductwork, even the dryer vent, cleaned two weeks before we put the house on the market, Mitzy. There’s just no way that it could have caught fire on its own.” Karina’s face was pinched like she had eaten something painfully bitter.
Mitzy eyed the balcony, a sad reality dawning on her. “You mentioned that Arnold had a life insurance policy on you…”
“Yes. And a policy on the house.” Karina shaded her eyes with her hand.
Jane rested her hand on Karina’s elbow. “Would you like to sit down?” Her voice was gentle, and Mitzy’s heart seemed to slow down just listening to her.
Karina nodded. She shivered in the bright but freezing day. “I don’t think he wanted to kill me.”
“Karina, what do you mean he had an insurance policy on the house?” Mitzy rubbed her eyes. These were the little details she ought to have known long ago.
“He holds—held—the mortgage, so he has an insurance policy on it. Surely you knew.”
“I knew you had a small sum to pay off from the sale. I did not know you owed that to your ex-husband.”
“I owe it to his company. They built the home.”
“Explain, if you have the energy, why there is a mortgage on it?”
Karina sighed. “Why not? Why pay for something now when you can put it off forever? I think that was the root of all of his financial troubles. He thought he would make millions of dollars indefinitely, so he owed two dollars for every dollar he earned for as long as I knew him.”
“And so if he destroyed your home, he could claim the mortgage insurance on it at the least?” Mitzy wanted to believe that Arnold had been after that rather than the two-million-dollar policy on his ex-wife, but it was hard to swallow. For Karina’s peace of mind, though, she’d roll with it. “Shall we call the police?” Mitzy’s finger hovered over the face of her phone, ready to dial.
Karina sighed. “What would it matter? Kjell’s been arrested for the murder already. I’m sure he’s told the police what they were up to.”
“What if this Kjell guy didn’t know what Arnold was going to do until he got him all the way to the balcony?” Jane leaned forward, her eyes narrowed like she was onto something. “I mean, it’s pretty clear that the dryer vent had been tampered with—you said yourself you had it cleaned. I wonder…”
“Hmm?” Karina’s face had a faraway look.
“I wonder if Kjell created the ‘accident’ to prevent Arnold from following through. I mean, what if Kjell really isn’t such a bad guy? What if he was trying to stop Arnold?”
“Why wouldn’t he have come forward right away? Or even called an ambulance?” Mitzy wished there could be one honest, good person in this mess, but she couldn’t make herself believe that Kjell was an unsung hero.
“If Kjell had turned up to help Arnold with a piece of work in the very early morning, and then found out what Arnold was planning, he might have been shocked into doing something rash to stop him.” Jane’s words sped up as she laid out her theory. “And then, when that something rash ended up killing Arnold, I could see why he wanted to run from the whole thing instead of come forward. I hardly pay attention to the news, but even I’ve seen the name Arnold English on the Internet more than once since he was discovered.”
“Don’t let handsome men fool you in this life, Jane,” Karina said. “Just because he looks like an angel doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”
Jane’s face fell, but not just in sadness. She looked irritated.
Mitzy could relate. Being condescended to stunk.
“He made a big point of telling his sister that Arnold was evil. Not just a jerk, but really evil. You might be right about this, Jane. It absolutely could have happened that way.” Mitzy stood up to go. “Karina, I understand that you don’t want to call the police about this, but you had better at least call Zachary. You two need to work out what you are going to do about the damage to the wall upstairs.”
“I suppose so.” She didn’t move.
Jane stood up. “I’ve got to get to my next client. Call if you need me to come by another time, okay?”
Karina inclined her head in a tiny motion that at least indicated she had heard.
Jane waved and ran off to a ratty little car parked down the street.
“She’s a nice kid,” Mitzy said.
Karina shrugged. “Weren’t we all at twenty?” She took a deep breath. “I’ll call Zachary. You get along, too. I suppose I’d better start dealing with this mess on my own now.”
Mitzy offered her a hand. “You aren’t alone. You’ve got friends and Zachary and Deanna.”
“Thanks.” Karina looked past Mitzy toward Livia’s house and the views of Portland beyond. “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
Mitzy cooked a real dinner for Alonzo that night. Not leftovers, not take out, and not something his mom had made and left in their fridge.
He poked it with his fork. “Is this some kind of hippy food?”
“Hippy food? It’s Greek. Why would I make hippy food?”
Alonzo stroked Mitzy’s slightly faded but still illustrated arm. “I dunno, Mitz. Maybe it’s a mid-life crisis?”
Mitzy laughed. “It should be all the way gone by New Year’s.”
“So, Greek food, huh?”
Yup.” Mitzy scooped up a forkful. “I think it’ll taste better than it looks.”
Alonzo eyed the towering stack of pots and pans on the counter. “Thank you.” He smiled, his face crinkling into irresistible lines of happiness.
“Don’t thank me until after you survive. It is moussaka, and I’ve never made it before.” Mitzy was half-teasing him. She hadn’t ever made it before, but she knew she was a great cook when she bothered.
Alonzo gave it a test bite. “Hey, this is good.”
Mitzy smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
“You should cook more often.”
“I might, since you’re giving me the kitchen of my dreams.”
“I love you, Mitzy, and I want you to be happy.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, too. And… if you don’t want to remodel and sell your grandma’s old house… if you want to keep this place the same and put renters in it, whatever. I can compromise.”
He took another scoop full of moussaka. “Keep cookin’ like this, and you can do whatever you want to my houses.”
“Houses?” She poked her dinner. “This one and the dream house?”
“All of them, babe, not just those two.”
Mitzy dropped her fork. “How many houses do you have that I don’t know about?”
Alonzo grinned. “Just the other three. No big deal. Someday we should probably sit down and combine all of our assets.”
“Or at least disclose them.” Mitzy toyed with her fork and suppressed a laugh. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”
“None that pop to mind.” His plate was almost clear. “We have kept pretty busy this year, haven’t we? Why don’t we have a hot date next week? Just you and me and our investment portfolios.”
Mitzy sighed with a smile. “You say the most romantic things.” But, she thought, better to get a late start learning exactly what her new husband had set aside for a rainy day than to find out that his rainy day plans included setting her house on fire. “I’m a lucky woman, Alonzo Miramontes.”
“Yup. You are.”
Now Available!
Good, Clean Murder
A Plain Jane Mystery
There had been a storm in the night and twigs and blossoms littered the long sweep of concrete front steps at the hundred-year-old stone mansion the Crawford family called home. Jane Adler had two hours to get the six-thousand square foot house whipped into shape. Then she was off to her ne
xt client to do the same thing. Jane was alone on the cool spring morning. The neighborhood was a quiet, haven of sunshine and fresh green gardens. She wished she could trade jobs with the gardener today, just so she could stay outside and enjoy the long-awaited sunshine.
On her way back to the front door she watered the early hyacinth and late crocus in the mossy urns that lined the steps. She fished the errant petals out of the bubbling fountain, and gave the brass fish that leapt out of the splashing water a quick polish.
Spring had finally come, and with it, her last term at Harvest School of the Bible. Jane was one semester away from graduation. Then she would fly away to the mission field. There were a few hurdles in front of her still: joining the right organization, fundraising, convincing her parents she was ready to leave the country for good.
Jane dusted the lid of the copper newspaper box and flipped it open. The morning paper was still lying inside.
Had the paperboy been late? Jane leaned around the pillar of the front portico to look down the street. She didn’t see any newspapers lying on the vast front lawns, but odds were most of the homeowners had boxes like the Crawfords’.
Jane turned the other way, but didn’t see the paperboy on his scooter. She expected as much. He had to be sitting in school by nine in the morning.
Jane carried the newspaper around to the back of the house with her broom and her watering can.
The special directions for today’s work would be waiting by the door in the mudroom. She prayed it wouldn’t be a Cinderella day. Cleaning the rugs, drapes, and fireplaces would destroy her tight schedule.
Jane swept the back steps, wiped the mildew from the windowsills, and used her rag to polish the brass porch light before she let herself back into the house.
As Jane racked the outdoor broom, her cell phone rang.
Caller id showed it was her roommate, Samantha. She sighed.
“Hey, Sam.” Jane slipped her Bluetooth around her ear so she could talk and clean at the same time.
“Get soy milk, okay?”
“And when should I do that? At nine tonight when my class gets out?” Jane stared at the bulletin board. The usual slip of paper was missing.
“Oh, are you doing that again?”
“Going to school? Yes.” Jane dropped to her knees and fished under the decorative storage bench for the list of instructions. She couldn’t feel anything so she pulled the bench away from the wall. The scraping sound on the slate floor made her skin crawl. “Was that it? Milk?”
“Soy milk, Jane. I’m lactose intolerant.” It sounded like Sam was chomping gum while she spoke. Jane grimaced.
“Did you see the paper this morning?”
“Funny you should mention the paper. It was still in the box when I got here.” Her directions weren’t under the bench, but she’d been cleaning the Crawfords’ home for two years now and knew the Monday schedule like the back of her hand. She knew everything except the special little things that were usually left on the bulletin board.
“Mr. Crawford didn’t have it lying out for all to see this morning?”
“What do you mean? Is he in it? Or one of his kids?” Jane shoved the bench back against the wall. She stood up and looked around the room. Nothing. If she could get Sam off the phone, she could text Pamela just to be sure there wasn’t something extra she needed to get done.
“Do you have it handy? Turn to the business section.”
Jane carried the newspaper into the kitchen. She hit the lights on the way in and sniffed. Something was missing. She sniffed again. Coffee. Had no one made coffee this morning? She twisted the lid off the coffee carafe. Empty. No coffee. No cups in the sink. No signs of life.
Jane gave the carafe lid a tight twist and put it back on the coffee maker. Then she slid onto a stool and opened the newspaper on the kitchen island. “Sorry. Were you still talking? I got distracted.”
“Yes, I was,” Sam said. “I said, get the soy milk on your way to school, and you said sure.”
“Not likely.”
“Did you open the paper yet?”
“Umm, hmm.”
“Front page of the business section, below the fold.”
Jane turned to the page. Near the bottom, she found the headline that said, “Big Bob Crawford Bows out of Burger Business.”
“What is this?” Jane ran her eyes across the short article. Bob Crawford was closing the chain of burger restaurants his father had opened in 1950. He apologized for how his family business had contributed to the obesity epidemic in America.
“Wow. I knew his heart attack had affected him, but I never expected this.” Jane’s heart sank a little. This meant the end of free dinners on the days she cleaned the Crawford house.
“When you see him, ask him what he’s planning on doing now. Maybe he’ll get into the smoothie business.”
“I can’t ask him that, Sam. It’s none of my business and he’s my boss.”
“You and your boundaries. If I were in your position, I’d ask.”
“Like you’d ever clean houses for a living.” Jane scratched at a blemish on the granite top. A dinner spill, maybe. “I bet this is why things are so strange around here this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“They didn’t leave any directions, or make coffee. All the lights are out. It’s just a little weird. Maybe closing the family business has put them off of their schedule.”
“No coffee? Poor you.”
“No kidding. Hey, I’m going to let you go. I’ve got to get this house put together before they get back.”
“Fine, but see if you can get Jake to tell you more about this.”
“If I see him, I’ll ask, okay?” Jane couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Jake Crawford and didn’t expect to see him anytime soon. Under those circumstances, it was an easy promise to make.
“Good enough. Get the soy milk, yeah?”
“Nada. I’ve got work to do.”
“What evs. You’re a rotten roommate.” Sam hung up.
Jane frowned at her phone. Sam’s attitude problem was nothing new, but losing Roly Burgers was quite a blow. Jane’s stomach grumbled. Free burgers had been a great perk.
Jane tied a pink bandana around her head to keep her wispy brown hair from shedding while she worked. Fast and thorough. She would try to make life for the Crawford family as easy as possible in the face of massive changes, but get in, get clean, and get out was her main goal.
Jane folded the newspaper back up. She set it on the kitchen desk, next to the charger station. She wondered what her dad would say when he found out about the end of the Burger with the Roly-Poly Bun. Running a Roly Burger franchise had made her parents’ early retirement possible
The Crawford family home in the exclusive Laurelhurst neighborhood of Portland and all of the lavish lifestyle that went with it was entirely thanks to the second-generation burger chain.
Jane stared out the front window. How many people would lose their jobs when the restaurants went dark? She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for them all. Portland did not need more layoffs.
After his heart attack, Bob Crawford had been morose. Depressed even. He had spent weeks on end huddled in his office, unshaven and wearing a bathrobe. Eventually he had cheered up, and it occurred to Jane that his new lease on life was probably due to the decision to quit making burgers.
Jane tried to shake off her own morose thoughts. If Bob didn’t want to make burgers any more God must have something else in store for the people who relied on him. She felt a catch in her throat. It might be true, but it was hard to believe. God let a lot of people suffer more than even the poorest of Portlanders. While she believed that God had his hand on the Roly Burger family of employees, she still felt a little sick about their impending loss of work.
Jane needed to get her mind out of the shadows. She recited the beatitudes as she made her way upstairs, in an effort to get her own attitude in order. “Blessed are the poor in spiri
t, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” She pulled out a rag and dusted the deeply-carved wooden frames that lined the staircase. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” She turned back and ran the rag down the banister. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth.”
She tried not to hurry as she rubbed the dust off the stair-rail spindles. Pamela Crawford always noticed dust on the mahogany. “Blessed are those who clean others’ dirt for they will be able to pay for their schoolbooks.”
Jane tucked her lemon-Pledge-soaked dust rag back in her apron pocket and moved on to the laundry room, the chemical citrus wafting away with her. She needed to strip the beds and get the laundry going if she was going to get out to her next house on time. On her way past the laundry room, she grabbed a hamper.
Then she stopped. Monday was laundry day. Laundry day and payday. The envelope full of cash was always pinned to the bulletin board with her directions. That envelope was supposed to buy her books today. Standing still with the hamper on her hip she debated. Stop now, call Pam, and ask for directions and money, or just keep working? The laundry would take two hours, whether she was paid or not, so she moved to the master bedroom. She could call Pamela after she had the first load in the machine.
Jane pushed open the bedroom door with her hip.
In a smooth set of motions perfected over her two years as a housekeeper, she set the hamper down, grabbed the end of the comforter and pulled all of the bedding off the bed. Then she looked up to grab the pillows.
Bob was still in bed.
“I am so sorry!” she whispered. She backed away from the bed.
Bob hadn’t seemed to notice her.
Heat rose to Jane’s face. What a complete moron! She should have knocked. She could have given him the chance to wake up a little. She looked away from the bed, waiting for him to speak.
He didn’t say anything.
In fact, Bob hadn’t moved a muscle when his covers had come flying off him. Surely, if a big guy like him had moved, she would have noticed.
She stepped back to the bed.
Bob was very still, and his face was pasty.
Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 04 - Frozen Assets Page 17
