Bright New Murder (4 page)

4

The next morning Jane rose late. She made a pot of coffee and sat at the breakfast bar with her phone for company. In the night, she had had three calls and two texts, all from Isaac. She stared at the phone, but wouldn’t read the texts. Wouldn’t listen to the messages. If she did, she’d take him back. And she was fairly sure she didn’t want to do that.

 
She nursed her coffee like it was medicine. Last night Jake had driven his sister and Gemma home, leaving Jane to take care of herself. Of course, in general, that’s how she liked things. But not so much after a crisis. After a crisis, she liked company. Instead, she had come home alone, and gone to bed before Gemma returned. She hadn’t slept much, and was paying for it now with a headache and a strong wish to go back to bed.

She held her cup to her nose, the rich coffee aroma warming her even though it was still too hot to drink. She could hear Gemma stamping around in the bathroom, but hadn’t seen her yet. If Gemma felt anything like Jane did, it was probably best they weren’t in the same room.

Gemma padded down the hallway and into the kitchen. She was up early, for her, and the dark shadows under her eyes indicated she hadn’t slept well.

She clicked the radio on, but the sound was just fuzzy white noise.

Jake ambled out of the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

Jane set her cup down and tried not to stare. “Uhh…”

Gemma didn’t look…guilty. In fact, her face split into a giddy grin as soon as she spotted Jake.

Jake slid onto the stool next to Jane. “Mornin’.”

Jane rubbed her eyes. What had Jake done now? Though she had hoped for a Gemma/Jake hookup ever since introducing them, she hadn’t seen any signs of…this.

“Morning,” Gemma said with a nauseating giggle.

Jake winked.

Jane rested her now-throbbing head on her hand. Flirting. The Gemma/Jake thing had been limited to flirting. She had been fobbing them off on each other for months now, but it hadn’t seemed to have taken.

They hadn’t really…had they?

Jake’s eyes were just as tired as Gemma’s, and he had a matching silly grin. His slacks were wrinkly like he had slept in them, and his hair stood up on end. He had clearly woken up here. Jane stared, her mouth slightly ajar.

Jake narrowed his eyes. “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”

Jane gagged.

Gemma dropped her coffee cup. It hit the linoleum with a thud and splashed coffee all over her legs. “Jeeze, Jake, what’s that about?”

“Look at Jane. She’s thinking horrible things about us right now.”

“Jane, you wouldn’t…” Gemma’s face turned fifteen shades of red.

“I, uh…” She took another drink of her too-hot coffee. “Dang it.” She banged the cup down. “If you aren’t here because you spent the night with my cousin, why are you here?”

 
“It’s lonely at my house, and you have a very comfortable sofa.”

“Go home.” Jane flicked a paper napkin so it skidded across the breakfast bar.

“I couldn’t abandon two beautiful, vulnerable ladies after our harrowing night. Especially while the killer is still on the loose.”

“Oh, no.” Jane’s heart sank. “She did die then?”

“Indeed. If you weren’t such a sleepyhead, you’d know that. It’s been all over the news this morning.”

“Did they say who she was?” Jane picked up her coffee cup again, but she just held it, and let it warm her hands.

“Nope. She won’t be identified until the family has been contacted.” Jake held his hand out to Gemma. “Coffee me, please?”

Gemma handed him a mug.

“The game is afoot, Jane, and it’s up to you to solve it. What do you do first?”

Jane didn’t want to answer him. Especially since she didn’t know what to do first. She was inclined to take a long, hot shower and then go back to bed, but she really wasn’t going to tell Jake that. “Wait.”

“You’re going to wait, or I have to wait for your answer?”

“I’m going to wait—and pray.”

“No extra points for church answers. I want to hear your game plan.” Jake grabbed hold of her shoulders and gave them a vigorous rub. “I’m in your corner, champ.”

Jane twisted out of his grip. While the shoulder rub felt good—very good, if she was being honest—the daggers Gemma was shooting at her weren’t worth it. “It might sound like a church answer to you, and maybe to Gemma as well, but I don’t know what to do next. I don’t have enough training or experience, and no one has hired me to investigate. I do feel like I was there at that time on purpose, but that doesn’t make the job easy.”

“Good. Easy work isn’t worth it.” Gemma yawned deeply after her bon mot.

“Are you on call today?” Jane changed the subject.

“Yup, and thank goodness. We need to get these babies delivered.”

Jake lowered his voice so Jane could just barely hear him. “Don’t turn the conversation. I’m here to help you, but I can’t stay all day.”

Jane groaned. “Then go, Jake. I’ll figure out what I need to figure out.”

Jake threw himself across the couch. “Okay. You’ll do your thing. Gemma and I will do ours. Consider me gone, in the ‘interfering in your business’ sense, even though I’m technically still here in the ‘I’m still in your living room’ sense.”

Gemma joined him on the couch. “And what is our business today?” She didn’t try to suppress her grin.

“We need to talk numbers. Very boring, but important for things like fundraisers and such. I have a feeling if you check the account we set up for donations, you will find that the little murder attempt has made your fundraiser go viral. There are some silver linings here today, my friend.”

Gemma slid onto the couch. “That’s a good thing, I guess.”

“You bet your sweet bippy it’s a good thing.”

Jane rested her head on her folded arms. Jake was going to do half her work for her, she could tell. But what was he going to do about Gemma? If she had learned anything from her readings on body language, the way that Jake had jumped up from the couch when Gemma let her hand fall on his knee indicated that Jane’s assumption that they had gotten up to shenanigans last night was the least likely thing in the world. It looked like the Gemma/Jake thing wasn’t going to happen.

And Gemma was going to end up very disappointed.

***
Despite nervously watching Twitter, the news, and listening to the radio every spare second of the morning, Jane and Gemma didn’t hear another word about their murder until well after noon.

Jane had spent the morning cleaning for two clients and trying to ignore that she didn’t have any new messages or texts from Isaac.

 
Gemma had assisted a birth.

 
By the time they met back at their apartment for a late lunch, they were exhausted.

Jane stretched across the couch with a yogurt. Her shoulders ached. Her morning headache had progressed. Now it felt like a nail piercing her temple. She was starving but couldn’t put the effort into anything more than peeling the foil lid off of the plastic cup of Oikos.

Gemma slumped at the breakfast bar, her head in her hands.

There was a tap at the door, and then Jake poked his head in.

Jane groaned.

He plopped a greasy paper bag on the counter next to Gemma. “Lunch. Eat. And listen.” He tapped his phone and a newscast turned on.

“
The stabbing at the Yo-Heaven fundraiser for the Helping Hands Early Education Center on December twenty-sixth turned a yo-heavenly night into hell for everyone at the party. It is being called a coldhearted fro-yo murder.

 
An hour into an event intended to provide quality early intervention education to the children of homeless families, a woman, now identified as Nevada resident Michelle White, was stabbed in the side. The wound proved to be fatal.

White, a mother of one and grandmother of three, was in town for the holiday.

The police believe the incident was a random act of violence.”

“It says something about the Adler-Crawford Detective Agency that the latest information on our current case comes from the Mount Hood Community College School of Journalism podcast, doesn’t it?” Jake said.

Gemma snickered. “The Adler-Crawford Detective Agency? We’re all in business together now?”

“You’re not a detective, Gem, sorry.” Jake sat on Jane’s legs. “Jane, what are you going to do now that the ‘Pod-vocate’ has handed you your information on a silver platter?”

“I’m going to eat a hamburger. That’s what you have in the bag over there, isn’t it? A burger with a roly-poly bun?”

“Indeed.”

“Then pass that on a silver platter.”

Gemma tossed a paper-wrapped burger to Jane.

“You’re trying to pester me into action, Jake, but you don’t have to.” Jane took a huge bite of the juicy burger on the fat bun.

“She has been working on this.” Gemma grabbed a French fry. “Not McDonalds, but it will do.”

Jane swallowed. “I’ve got alerts set. I would have heard this as soon as I checked them. And I know exactly what I’ll do next.”

“If you say you’re going to google Michelle White from Nevada, you’re a big dork.”

“True, the first step has changed. Michelle White is not the Hortense Swiggenbotham kind of name I had been hoping for. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing next.”

“Okay then, what are you doing next?”

“I’m going to…” Jane bit her lip. She couldn’t let Jake know she was making this up just now. “I’m going to find out who brought Michelle White to the fundraiser.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Facebook.” Jane grabbed her phone from the coffee table and logged onto Plain Jane’s Good Clean Houses Facebook business page.

“Hey guys! I’m looking for the person who brought Michelle White to Gemma’s fundraiser! All tips welcome!
She clicked the boost button and added twenty dollars to the fund. Then she shared it on her private page too.

“Facebook?” Jake scowled. “That’s not hard-boiled detecting.”

“Very true. But do I look like a hard-boiled detective?” Jane pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and let her hair fall over her shoulders.

“Fair enough. But you’re not going to just sit and wait for someone to contact you, are you?”

Her phone bleeped.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled, but her heart thumped. She read the PM out loud. “
Hey Jane! My mom brought Michelle with her! We can’t even believe she’s gone. Everyone at home is totally crushed, but I know Mom would talk to you, if you wanted to
.” Jane grinned. “And now, my next step will be connecting with Sarah Henry’s mom.” She tapped out her request for Sarah’s mom’s digits.

Jake frowned. “That’s all well and good, but I think there should be more trench coats and magnifying glasses involved.”

“Don’t jump ahead. We’ll take this investigation one step at a time.”

“We?” Gemma interjected.

“Of course ‘we.’ I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Gemma squeezed herself between the arm of the couch and Jake. “Awesome.”

Jane got up. “I’m beat. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m hoping Sasha Henry will be able to see me later today, so I’m going to take a quick nap and then a shower. You two…sort out your guest list, and donations and stuff, and then figure out who was at the party that really shouldn’t have been there.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Gemma’s smile could have lit the room.

“Let me know if you need help napping. I’m great with a snuggle.” Jake tipped his head at Jane as she walked away.

Jane tried her best to sleep—a fifteen-minute power nap would make a world of difference—but her mind was racing and she couldn’t slow it down.

Michelle wasn’t from around here. Michelle was a friend of one of her own mom’s friends. Michelle had grandkids. But what had Michelle done to make someone want to kill her? Her husband hadn’t been mentioned. Was she married? Divorced? Widowed?

Jane sat up and started writing her questions down. First she had to figure out what she needed to know, then she had to figure out how to get the information from Sasha Henry without coming across as nosy, or morbid.

She narrowed her field of questions to learning Michelle’s backstory, and learning what her plans in Portland were. She hoped that by comparing the two, she might be able to spot the thing that made her a likely victim.

This random act of violence business didn’t fly with Jane. Not at all.

5

Sasha Henry phoned while Jane was still in the shower, a fact Jake used to his advantage.

“My eyes are closed, I promise.”

“GET OUT!” Jane poked her head around the shower curtain but held it against herself with an iron grip.

“Trust me, you want this interruption. Maybe not as much as I do, but you want it.” He held up her phone and waggled it a little.

“Jake.” Jane took a deep breath. “Get out of my bathroom.”

“It’s the Henry woman, but if you don’t want to talk to her, I can.”

Jane shut off her water. “I think I hate you.” She reached for the phone with one hand, but kept the shower curtain tight in her hand.

Jake pulled the phone back, just a tad.

Jane gritted her teeth.

“Kidding.” Jake set the phone on the bathroom counter and left, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Sasha? This is Jane Adler. Thanks for returning my call.”

“Not at all. You’re Nancy Adler’s girl? The one who cleans houses?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Jane sat on the edge of the bathtub, shivering. Her towel hung from the hook on the door, but she was afraid of messing up the phone call, so she didn’t grab it.

 
“What can I do for you?” Sasha’s voice was raspy and emotional. “You said you wanted to talk about Michelle?”

“I do, if you don’t mind.” Jane had a reason for the conversation all lined up, but a twinge of guilt struck her as she was about to say it. It was mostly a lie. “I, uh…” She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t lie. “I am a criminal justice student, and I’m hoping to help with the investigation of this case.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if you are willing to talk to me, I’d appreciate it so much.” An overwhelming sense of foolishness, exacerbated by her cold, wet, and naked state, replaced the feeling of guilt.

“A student? Would this be for a school project?” There was more than a hint of disgust in Sasha’s voice.

“Oh, no. Not at all. But…I was there that night, you see. And my cousin and one of my best friends put on the event, so all of us are really…affected by it. Since I’m learning how to investigate crimes, it seemed like talking to you might sort of help us all as we processed what happened.”

“I see.” The disgusted tone was gone, but all that was left was a weariness.

“Are you free to meet for coffee?” Jane crossed her fingers.

 
“Why don’t you come by and see me around seven?”

“That would be fine. Thank you so much for taking a little time for me.” Jane exhaled slowly. Maybe when she was a real detective, this would be easier. She got Sasha’s address and let her go. She had enough time to make a casserole for the funeral, if she ran straight to the store.

***

When she got back from the store, she assembled the casserole ingredients. Rice, frozen vegetables, pregrated cheese, cans of soup, croutons, a bag of frozen chicken breasts. She could make something with this, surely.

She dug around in her cupboards for a big glass dish like her mom used for casseroles, but they didn’t seem to have one. They did have a big soup pot though, so she grabbed it.

The rice and soup part made sense, just put the soup in the pot and then throw the rice in.

She stared at the bag. How much rice? Maybe the whole bag? She weighed it in her hand. It felt kind of heavy. Maybe just, like, one can of rice. She dumped the two cans of cream of mushroom soup in the pot and then added a canful of rice. Frozen veg was easy. Just dump it in with the rice.

The chicken was a problem. The chicken breasts were frozen solid and she couldn’t cut them.

She got a bigger knife.

She leaned with all her weight on the butcher knife and managed to cut the chicken breast in half. Maybe the microwave would help. She put the whole sack of frozen chicken breasts in to defrost for two minutes.

“Making dinner?” Gemma came out of her bedroom and joined Jane in the kitchen.

Jane took a deep breath. She had so much she ought to say to Gemma, but until a better moment came, she needed to stick to the mundane. “It’s for Michelle White’s funeral.”

“Will there be extra?”

“Probably not.” The microwave beeped, so Jane took the chicken out. It wasn’t floppy like it was supposed to be, but it was softer and easier to cut. She cut three of the chicken breasts into little squares and dumped them in the pot. She stirred it, and then dumped the whole bag of grated cheese into it.

“What is for dinner then?”

“I’m not your mommy.” Jane opened the bag of croutons and poured them on the casserole, too. She stuck the pot in the oven, handle towards the door, so it would be easier to take out when it was done. She checked the clock…the Henrys lived across town, on the west side. If she calculated for traffic, she would need…shoot. She turned the stove up to five hundred degrees. That should get it cooked in time for her to leave.

“I think it’s your turn.” Gemma pulled off her elastic headband and ran her fingers through her bobbed hair.

“To make dinner? Since when do we take turns making dinner?”

“I made dinner for you last Sunday,” Gemma said.

“Take-and-bake pizza. If you can wait until I get home, I’ll bring you one.” Jane chewed her bottom lip. She should give herself an hour to get there. Highway 26 was always a disaster during rush hour. She clicked the stove up to 515. She didn’t have time to mess around.

“You know what we could do…” There was a mischievous lilt in Gemma’s voice. Jane decided to ignore it. “We could order in.” Gemma winked and dialed her phone.

Jane sat at the breakfast bar drumming her fingers. If a casserole took, what…an hour, at a normal temperature, surely at 515, hers would be done in half an hour? Half an hour was more than enough time. She could even get lost on her way.

The timer went off for the casserole.

Jane looked up from her computer. She’d just check one more thing, then take it out. She sniffed. It didn’t smell like she thought it would.

While considering what the smell reminded her of, the front door popped open.

“Ladies. I don’t do this for just anyone, I want you to know. And I have to say, I don’t think hamburgers twice a day is good for you.” Jake set a recycled-paper drinks carrier on the counter next to Jane. “So I brought the New Year’s Cookie smoothies—or as the media has been calling them, the smoothies of death.”

“They have not, Jake.” Gemma rolled her eyes.

“They will. Anyway, I threw in some extra protein powders and some powdered veg. A meal in a cup.”

“Gem…” Jane sipped her drink. “You ‘ordered’ dinner from Jake?”

Gemma shrugged. “All our munchies needs, just a text message away.”

“What stinks in here?” Jake asked.

“My attitude.” Jane sighed. “Roommates are always a challenge.”

“What you need is a husband. They’re easy as smoothies.”

“Easy as the smoothies of death? Sign me up.” Jane took a deep breath. “Wait, I smell it, too. What is that?”

“It smells like someone doesn’t know how to cook.” Jake picked up a soup can. “Do you know how much MSG is in these?”

“I don’t know how to cook. But how can casserole smell like that?” Jane gagged. She wouldn’t want to eat a dinner that smelled like a burnt tire, much less give it to someone for a funeral.

“Casseroles can’t smell like that. Why are you cooking a casserole at five hundred and fifteen degrees? Are you trying to burn your house down?” Jake clicked the light on to see inside the stove. “Oh, Jane. Really?”

“What?”

“Plastic handles in a really hot oven? For a casserole?”

Jane exhaled through tight lips, making a
pffft
sound. “So, that’s not right?”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill us all when we were living together.”

“We were not ‘living together,’ Jake.”

“Potatoes, potahtoes.” Jake turned the oven off. “Just leave it there until the tenth of never. Don’t open it. Don’t touch it. Trust me. You don’t want to open that oven.”

Jane reached around him and pulled the oven open. Smokey, burnt-plastic air enveloped her.

“You don’t like to listen, do you?”

“I can’t have it start on fire.” She grabbed a dishrag for each hand and yanked the pot out. One hand sizzled, since the dishrag was wet. The other hand squeezed the hot plastic handle like it was Play-Doh. “Ouch!” She dropped the pan. Hot “casserole” spilled across the floor and splattered the cupboard doors, and her pants.

She kicked the pan.

“Calm down, champ. Spilled milk’s not worth crying over.”

“It’s not milk. It’s goodwill to soften my contact toward me, and a pan I ruined.” Jane leaned back against the sink and looked at her mess.

“Well, at least you didn’t let it catch fire.” Jake jumped onto the counter and sat like it was a stool. “How do you clean a mess like this, Jane Adler, professional housecleaner?”

Gemma leaned on her elbows next to Jake. “Yeah, how do you clean that?” She sipped her smoothie. “Yumm. Thanks.”

“Someone appreciates me around here.”

Gemma bumped his elbow with hers.

Jake jumped off the counter again. “You’re running out of time, Janey. I’ll clean that mess up, and you can change into something less toxic.”

Jane looked from the mess to Jake and back again. He was right—a thing she was getting a little sick of—she didn’t have time to clean up the chunks of chicken, and rice, and soup, and everything else, and still make it to the Henry house for her first-ever intentional investigation.

Ten minutes later—how had the soupy mix gotten into her hair?—she was ready to go. Bleachy rags and tuition fees hadn’t been good to her wardrobe, but she had a button-down shirt that still had all of its buttons and a pair of jeans with only two bleach splatters down by the ankle. She looked, if not professional, at least tidy.

The kitchen was spotless, and so was Jake. She didn’t want to get caught up in one of his lengthy, rambling conversations, so she just waved as she left.

He followed her.

“Safety in numbers, Jane. I don’t want to hear a word against it.”

Jane didn’t speak. She let herself into her car and smacked the lock button so he couldn’t join her.

He knocked on the window. “Plus,” he exaggerated the shape of his words though she could hear him just fine, “you told her you wanted to help us all come to terms with what happened. Doesn’t make sense for you to go alone.” He lifted his eyebrow.

She turned the key. Her engine growled into life.

“And, if you back out, you’ll run over my foot.” He pointed down.

Apparently he had stuck his foot under her front wheel. She was tempted to drive anyway.

“If the Henrys slit your throat and toss you in the Willamette, I could never forgive myself.”

Jane counted to ten. Again, he had a point. Not that she didn’t trust the mom of a Facebook friend she had never met, but knew because someone else knew them in real life…but there were freaks in the world. After all, she was headed there to investigate the murder of this woman’s friend.

Jane drummed her fingers on her steering wheel. This woman had brought Michelle White to the party. Someone had been standing near enough to White to stab her without making her question why the person was standing so close. Sasha Henry wasn’t just a source. She was a murder suspect.

Jane made a fist and hit the door lock button again. “Get in.”

Jake slid across the hood of the car, popped open the passenger door, and climbed in. “Well, what are you waiting for?”