The Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 2

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “So was I!” Stacy shook her head sadly. “What about you, Reg? Where were you again?”

  “I was up in the sound booth with Francine.” His lip curled in disgust when he said her name.

  “Ooh, I met Francine,” Gemma said. “I met her in line to talk to the police. I mean, she worked for Josiah, so it must have been the same lady. But what were you doing in the sound booth?”

  “I’m on the task force while they are in town. I help with techy stuff during events. Lucas—this guy that runs the showy stuff—had to step out, so Francine joined me.”

  “So Francine wasn’t on the stage, or even near it, when Josiah died?” Jane asked.

  “No, she was with me the whole time.” Again, Reggie looked disgusted.

  “What’s wrong with this Francine chick?” Jake asked. “Every time you say her name, you look like you want to spit.”

  “She’s not that bad.” Stacy stared at the table. “What is wrong with this table? Reggie, are you moving my stuff?”

  Jake laughed.

  “What?” Stacy turned to him.

  “Oh, nothing. But Reggie doesn’t agree with you. He thinks Francine is that bad. Why? What did she do?”

  “It’s nothing she did, really. Just her attitude. She’s not into it. I swear she’s just with the organization for the money, and that is so wrong. Josiah Malachi is about so much more than money. He’s changing the world.”

  Jane swallowed her instant reaction to the irony. “Maybe she was just having an off night, or something like that.”

  Reggie lifted his eyebrow. “A bad two months, more like. We’ve been getting ready for the Malachi Ministries to come to Portland for six months. And for the last two months Francine has been in town prepping the task force. I’ve never met a less spiritual woman in the ministry before. All business and no heart. ”

  Stacy scrunched up her mouth. “Are you sure you aren’t just saying that because she’s a woman?”

  “Don’t be a feminist, Stace.” Reggie took a drink of his coffee and smirked.

  That was the other reason Jane was surprised to see them together. Reggie had always been kind of a jerk.

  “Very modern of you, Reggie.” Jake sniffed. He had never much liked Reggie either, if Jane recalled correctly.

  Reggie laughed. “Look at Lucas, stuck behind the equipment even though he’s the best preacher they’ve got. He could outpreach Josiah by a mile. But does he complain or act uppity? Nope. He humbly serves. And that’s what Francine should do too, but she doesn’t. She’s cold, and rude, and she acts like working for the most popular preacher in America is some kind of drag.”

  “I wouldn’t say Josiah Malachi is the most popular preacher in America.” Jake leaned back in his chair.

  “Who’s better?” Reggie challenged.

  “I can’t think of a name offhand, but plenty of people can’t stand Malachi. They consider him a heretic. I mean, someone murdered him, didn’t they? He can’t be that popular.”

  Gemma’s face turned beet red. “They martyred him. Lots of good people get killed.”

  The pretty little blonde girl who went missing so many years ago flashed through Jane’s mind, leaving a hurt in her heart like a punch. Josiah was not a good man.

  “We really believe in this ministry, Jake.” Stacy’s eyes got a dewy look to them. “It’s not like we’d drop our lives and tour with him, or anything, but he was a great preacher who helped millions of people.”

  “Helped millions of people have less money.”

  Jane kicked him under the table.

  Gemma’s wide-eyed stare jumped from Jake to Reggie, who were locked in a game of chicken, neither blinking or backing down. She turned to Jane and bit her lip.

  Jane took a long, deep breath.

  “Hey! Look, the table is moving!” Gemma pointed to Jane’s dessert, which was now in front of Stacy, across the table from where it started. “Did you guys know the table has been moving the whole time?” She accompanied her statement with a frantic kind of laugh.

  “Yes, tables move. How very Portland of Rimsky’s,” Jake said.

  “Jacob…” Jane squeezed his knee.

  He smiled. “I love it when you call me that. Did I ever tell you? Makes me feel grown up. Not at all the same as when Aunt Marjory calls me that.” He chuckled and squeezed her hand. His posture mellowed too. “Sorry.” He nodded at Reggie. “I’m picky about preachers. But I’ll shut up now. After all, he didn’t deserve to die just because I disagree with his theology.”

  Jane again thought of little Haven, whom no one had seen or mentioned in four years. Had Josiah deserved to die?

  Chapter 11

  Sunday evening came, and Jane was not inclined to go to her missional community family dinner. But Jake texted her, “GO,” so she did.

  Sean acted like their conversation the week before hadn’t happened at all, and like she hadn’t skipped their midweek dinner. The dinners were social, come-as-you-please, potluck things, meant for games, and bringing friends, so technically, it wasn’t like she had skipped church. But she felt like she had ditched, and that’s what mattered.

  So she sat on the floor of her missional community leader’s house and tried to pay attention. Her heart and mind weren’t in it—not because she didn’t want to evangelize the neighborhood…but because she just kept getting it wrong, and it was exhausting. She had always, always thought that a really dedicated Christian who wanted to be a foreign missionary could just be one. That’s what God wanted, after all. But here she was, another year in Portland, another year still in college, and another time messing up a good church opportunity because of a boy.

  She drew a line down the carpet with her thumbnail and then smoothed it over. She wished Jake was here with her. But she didn’t wish it enough to throw caution to the wind and just get married.

  Wendy, a girl who lived in the apartments across the street, was sitting on the floor next to her, her eyes fixed on Sean as he shared some recent outreach stuff he was doing. Wendy had shared that her friends had a great time at the games-and-dinner thing Jane had skipped.

  Jane sat up and gave Sean her full attention. She would bring a neighbor before the month was over. Period. End of sentence. Tent-making missionaries had to figure out how to run their businesses and reach out with the gospel, so she would too. Even though she’d rather have Jake here with her, she didn’t need him. Not yet.

  Sean finished up his story, led them in prayer, and then opened the buffet.

  Jane wasn’t hungry, so she stayed where she was and asked Wendy more about how she managed to get to know her neighbors so easily.

  Sean’s very pregnant wife, Margo, joined them. “Hey, where’s Jake?”

  Jane looked from the swollen, freckled face of Margo over to Sean at the dinner table. “Uh…”

  Margo smiled. “Is he working tonight?”

  “He, um…didn’t Sean say anything?”

  Margo sipped her water and shifted on the couch. “No…what happened? I didn’t just kick a beehive, did I?”

  “Oh, no. I just…” Jane fidgeted. It shouldn’t be so hard to explain this, but it was. “Since he doesn’t live in this area, he is kind of backing off from this group.”

  Margo frowned. “Was this Sean’s idea?” She cast a glance towards her husband, back in the kitchen.

  Jane nodded.

  Margo sighed. “Oh, he’s such a black-and-white kind of guy. That can be so obnoxious.” She rolled her eyes and sipped some more water. She placed her hand on her baby bump. “I wish this kid would come.” She shifted again and leaned against the arm of the couch. “Listen, Jane, I don’t know what Sean was thinking, but I’ll talk to him. What’s the point of a group like this if we kick out people’s boyfriends?” She took a big bite of her dinner roll.

  Jane smiled weakly. “Oh, don’t bother. Jake seemed to agree, anyway.”

  Margo scrunched up her mouth a little. “Let me know if you change your mind. I don’t think the
body of Christ works all black and white like Sean sometimes thinks it does.” She took another small sip of water and sighed.

  Wendy scooched a little closer. “Jane, did I hear you and Jake talking about Josiah Malachi last weekend?” Wendy spoke in a hushed tone and narrowed her eyes.

  “Yeah.” Jane chewed her bottom lip. Wendy seemed…cautious. Maybe even protective.

  “I know Josiah’s kid.”

  Jane leaned in. “Which one?”

  “His oldest son, Nick. We’ve been in a Foursquare chat room together since youth group. Not everyone knows who he is, though.” Wendy had turned her back on the rest of the room completely, and faced Jane. “But he hasn’t logged in since his dad died.”

  Jane drummed her fingers on her knees. “You mean his stepdad?”

  “What? No…” Wendy furrowed her brow. “Josiah’s not his stepdad.”

  “Well, actually, Nick and Theo are Christiana’s sons. Their dad is a guy called Rizzo who lives in California.”

  Wendy pursed her lips and rocked back a little bit. “I don’t think that’s right.”

  Jane exhaled slowly. Nick was lying on the Internet? Perhaps it was to keep up the cover story his mom preferred to present. But why, if only a few of the members of the chat room knew who he was? “Did he ever mention his sister?”

  Wendy shook her head slowly. Her face drained of color. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I’ve known Nick for a long time now. He doesn’t have a sister.”

  Jane paused to collect her thoughts. Wendy was shutting down. Her defenses were high, and if Jane wanted to learn anything else, she was going to have to move carefully. “I’m sorry.” Jane laughed softly. “It looks like I really don’t know anything.”

  Wendy relaxed a little.

  “Did you and Nick plan on meeting when he got to town?”

  Wendy blushed.

  Jane nodded, and allowed herself a knowing smile. Wendy thought she had an online romance.

  “No…he said he couldn’t come to town this time.” Wendy ran her fingers through her hair. “But I feel so awful for him. To decide not to come on the trip that his dad died on. Can you even imagine?”

  Jane shook her head, attempting to mimic sympathy, all the while her mind reeling. There was very little chance that this person Wendy had been chatting with all this time was actually Nick “Malachi.” He could be Nick, keeping up the appearance of being a Malachi, but it just wasn’t likely. “Did he say why he couldn’t come?”

  “He’s training for a marathon.”

  Jane tried hard not to roll her eyes.

  “No, really. It made sense. We’re too close to sea level. He wanted to train somewhere higher, where running was harder, so he stayed on his campus.”

  “Where does he go to school?”

  Wendy shrugged. “He hasn’t said. I kinda understand. Security and all that.” Her eyes drifted away, someplace starry. “It’s so hard to be famous, I think.”

  Jane sipped her water. It was certainly hard to pretend you were someone famous.

  “Christiana hired me to clean her rental while she was in town. Would you, I mean, do you mind letting me know if you hear from Nick? As far as I can tell, Christiana hasn’t yet, and she’s really worried.”

  Wendy sat up, her green eyes wide and determined. “Absolutely. Anything I can do to help.”

  “Just…text me, yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  It could be nothing, of course, Jane told herself as she walked back to her apartment that night. But someone was pretending to be Nick on the Internet, which could also be something rather important.

  Chapter 12

  Jane couldn’t miss any more classes and still pass, so she fidgeted her way through her Monday morning class, consumed with worry for the missing Malachi sister.

  Had she been kidnapped? Killed? Was she a runaway?

  Had Josiah Malachi sold her?

  Supposedly four years after the fact, and only because there had been a murder, Francine de Leon had finally told the police about the missing girl. What was her name…Haven? But could Francine be trusted? Had she really told the Portland Police about this situation?

  The professor turned off the light, and a video started. Jane slumped in her chair, in no mood for a brief documentary on whatever this was about. Since the prof was now sitting at a desk poring over papers they had all turned in two weeks previously, Jane took the quiet and dark as her chance to work out her next moves.

  Josiah Malachi was dead. No matter what else she learned, he wasn’t coming back. But this daughter, Haven, might still be alive. And that meant there was still a chance to save her. Her first priority from this moment had to focus on Haven.

  She had ten minutes between her Monday classes, so she called the police on her short walk from Lincoln Hall to the Hatfield School. She still had Detective Bryce’s number in her phone.

  Her heart skipped a beat when the phone was answered, but dropped to her shoes when she realized it was just his voice mail.

  “Uh…hi.’’ She cringed at her own foolish voice, but it was voice mail, so there was no going back. “This is, um, Jane Adler. We met over the Swanson murder?” She hated it when her statements sounded like questions. “I’m cleaning house for Christiana Malachi, and I learned something kind of awful that I thought you all might want to know. I mean, I don’t know if you’re the detective on that murder or not, but still, I thought I should call. So, you can call me back at this number, anytime, but I’m in school—” Dang it. Now she sounded like a child. “I’m at Portland State right now, so I won’t be able to call back.” And that was too much information. Liars always gave too much info. She left her phone number and hoped she didn’t really sound like an idiot and a liar. “I’d really like to talk to someone about this, so you can call, or pass my number on, I guess. Um. That’s all.” She hit pound, as the voice mail had instructed her to.

  Another voice came on saying she could delete her message and start over again. She stared at the school building in the distance. She should start over, but her whole body was shaking and she just couldn’t, so she hung up.

  A real private detective didn’t get nerves when calling the cops; that much she was sure of.

  Detective Bryce called back while she was in class and left a message.

  Jane had a seat to herself on the bus, and had settled in for her ride to her apartment, when Detective Bryce called back a second time.

  “Jane?” His voice was as deep as she remembered. A deep-voiced cop was a good thing, made you feel confident.

  “This is she.” Jane leaned her head back against the window. The bus wasn’t too crowded; the day wasn’t too hot. She had a fairly good chance of making it home without being overwhelmed by motion sickness. This wasn’t a bad time for a call at all.

  “Hey, this is Grant Bryce. You called earlier?”

  “Yes! Thanks for getting back to me.” Jane took a deep breath and explained how she had found herself as Christiana Malachi’s maid. “I really want to talk over what I learned, but I don’t think I should do it on the phone.”

  “I completely understand. Are you free this evening? We could meet at Starbucks, down by the station.”

  She couldn’t be sure, but he almost sounded nervous, or hopeful. She hated that she felt the same way, listening to that deep voice with the slight country twang. She could never explain to Jake that this was half of why she wasn’t ready to get married yet. She was altogether too easily impressed by other boys. Not that she wanted some other boy…but shouldn’t you not get fluttery at the sound of a deep voice if you were ready to get married?

  “Um, I don’t know. It’s a bit, maybe, sensitive for public.”

  “Ah.” Detective Bryce—Grant—sounded deflated.

  “Can you meet me…?” She quickly ran through her options. “Do you know where the Roly Burger in Maywood is?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you meet me there? We can talk in the
office, with my partner.”

  “Oh. Okay. Yes, of course. What time?”

  She glanced at her phone. “Seven?”

  “Yes. I can be there.” He paused. “Thanks for calling.”

  Jane ended the call and stared at her phone. If there had never been a Jake, it would have been fun to meet the deep-voiced, baby-faced detective for coffee, to share secrets. And, who was she kidding? It was going to be fun, even if Jake was there.

  Jake shifted restlessly in his rolling desk chair. He looked at his watch. He looked out the window. He looked at Jane. “What time did you say this detective of yours was coming?”

  “At seven. Relax.” Jane sat cross-legged on a bench in the foyer of the office.

  Jake’s assistant had gone home for the day, so they had the place to themselves.

  Jane had her notebook open on her lap and was going over lists of notes about the case. Not only was she going to report the odd situation of the Malachis’ missing daughter, she was going to attempt to make a case for herself as a soon-to-be-private detective, and hope that Detective Grant Bryce would feel like being her inside informant.

  She let out a slow, deep breath.

  Jake coughed in the next room.

  The solid wood door between them was propped open with a doorstop that was slowly sliding out. Jane got up and shoved it back under with her toe.

  “Is this Bryce character really the only cop you know?”

  Jane laughed. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

  “It doesn’t feel cute.” He snaked his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “But it’s worth it if you can help find this missing kid.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Jane’s heart stopped for a second. So many things hung on this one meeting. She let the detective in and led him to Jake’s office.

  Bryce offered his hand to Jake, then Jane.

  “So you’re a housecleaning private eye now?” Bryce had a dimple when he smiled, and though his voice was as deep as ever, that dimple made him look like he was laughing at her.