Dirty Little Murder (17 page)

“Your vote of confidence means the world to me.” Jake looked away.

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it. What was there to say?

“Do you know what I thought the whole time I was gone?”

Jane shrugged.

“I thought, ‘I would give my left arm to have Jane here with me.’”

 
“But why?”

He smiled just with the corner of his mouth.

“Jake…”

“Don’t tell me you’d rather have Professor Boyfriend than a life with me, in the jungle, doing amazing things for God.”

Jane watched his face carefully. He had this thing with his eyes; they were so sincere, but his smile was so teasing. She couldn’t tell what was behind it. And for her own part? Nothing.

She felt nothing as she looked at him.

He was a smooth talker and could make her heart flutter. He was a flirt and, she admitted, so was she sometimes. But that was all.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just, like, hang out with me tomorrow again. And the next day. You’ll forget the Professor.”

Jane looked away. More likely “The Professor” would forget her.

“He’s never going to be a missionary, Jane, so I don’t know why you are wasting your time with him.”

“He might be.” She twisted the end of her ponytail around her finger.

“Might be? Is that enough for you?”

“For now.” Jane pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and let her hair fall through her fingers. It fell to her shoulders in a glossy sheet, shielding herself from Jake’s sidelong glances. “It’s not like I’m planning on getting married any time soon. I’ve got school, and work, and this murder to think of.”

“Another murder, huh?”

“Yes.” Jane flicked her hair over her shoulder and straightened up. The murder was a safe topic.

“You almost got kicked out of Bible school last time.”

“That wasn’t because of the murder.”

“Right. That was Isaac’s fault, wasn’t it?” A knowing look played on Jake’s full lips.

Jane took a deep breath. “Isaac is overseas right now, on mission work of his own. When he comes back, he and I will see what happens. I can’t rush my life. I can only serve where I am, one day at a time. And right now…” Jane checked her watch again. “Right now, I really do have to focus on the murder. I’m a little bit invested.”

“You don’t
want
to be a missionary any more, do you?”

“I do!”

“No, you want to be a detective, because it’s easier.”

“It’s not easier.” Jane swept the crumbs from the table to her hand and let them fall onto the paper wrapper from her burger. She didn’t look up.

“But you do want to be one.” Jake took a deep breath. “Listen, maybe I spent the last year dreaming. I thought we had a thing, a spark, but it was probably just because you’re hot. I can accept that, even though it sucks. But you… you need to figure yourself out.”

“I just have to take life one day at a time, that’s all.”

“One case at a time.” Jake stood up. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll call, because I’m not fickle. You are hot, and as long as the sun still rises, hope lives.” He leaned over and kissed her on top of her head. Then he left.

Just walked out the door.

Jane crumpled up the paper wrapper from her hamburger. Of course she wanted to be a detective.

Missionary.

She meant to say missionary.

This time she had to be on her guard
while she dug for clues at the Swanson house, since Caramel had said the guests would be there.

Jane noted two cars she had never seen before in the driveway, one of them from a rental company. Inside, she saw signs of life that had been missing in the last week; a coat left on the back of a chair, shoes kicked off by the front door. There was even a novel opened on the coffee table. It was funny how little things like that made a house feel warmer. Jane pulled open all of the first-story drapes. The sun shined through, a bright, happy sight at odds with the sad reason the company was at the house.

She made her coffee and turned on all of the office equipment. Knowing that it wasn’t yet six in the morning, Jane cleaned the hall bathroom upstairs as quietly as she could. And she left the Jack and Jill bathroom alone completely, since she assumed someone was sleeping in the bedrooms on either side of it.

While she finished off all of the bathrooms, she tried to decide what she most wanted out of this morning. She couldn’t land on anything more concrete than “information.” She retied the pink bandana around her head and checked the time. The best way to get information was to ask questions. While she made the coffee, she came up with a few things she wanted to ask Caramel, if she got lucky enough to see her before she left.

Jane lingered in the kitchen. Making coffee was on her official morning to-do list, and if she could just wait it out until a little closer to seven, she might get a chance to talk to Caramel before she left.

The clock ticked impossibly slowly as she stood over the coffee bean grinder. She filled it with beans at
6:12
. She put the lid on it and ground them at
6:24
. She poured the grounds into the coffee filter at
6:35
. She filled the pot with water at
6:50
.

She hovered over the coffee pot, unwilling to press the start button until she heard the steps of people waking up above her. At
7:00
she couldn’t delay any longer.

Just when she knew she had outstayed her welcome, Amy came down.

Her red hair was in a messy ponytail, and she wore running shorts and a tank top. “Oh, hey.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“I was just leaving.” Jane tried to think quick. Amy wasn’t Caramel, but she could still be useful. “How is Caramel doing?”

Amy leaned back against the counter and drank her water. “She’s holding up.”

Jane took a quick inventory of Amy. While she came across as more wholesome than Caramel, it looked like she had a few of her own nips and tucks. Her lips were fuller than they had seemed before, and though her boobs were round and perky, the spaghetti straps of her tank top made it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra, so they were definitely defying gravity.

“It must be sad to be widowed so young.” Jane sighed and looked toward a picture of
Douglas
and Caramel that was magneted to the side of the fridge.

“I can’t imagine it myself,” Amy said. “And they’d only been married a few years.”

“Were they happy?”

Amy shrugged. “Happy enough. She knew what my dad was like when I introduced them. But I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Jane straightened up. “You introduced Caramel to your dad?”

“Yeah. And I feel so guilty about it now.” Amy stretched her arms behind her head. Jane tried not to stare at her perfect chest.

“Guilty? But why?”

“Caramel was my sorority sister. We have a pledge to each other. If it weren’t for me introducing them, she would be happily married to someone else right now, instead of a widow.” Amy’s eyes welled up with tears. She brushed them aside. “My mom thought I was crazy, but I knew she would make Dad happy, and that Dad would make her happy enough.” Amy set her water bottle down. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think they were happy, I really do. But now, she is so sad.”

Jane had one shot at this. She had to ask something that would bring a useful answer. Something she could never find out on her own.

She took a deep breath. “So why do you think Caramel doesn’t want her brother Joe to come by?”

Amy stiffened.

Jane waited.

“I think the restraining order is reason enough.”

“She has a restraining order against her brother?” Jane tried to sound innocently surprised instead of shocked, which is how she really felt.

Amy looked toward the hall. She shifted her feet. “No, I do.” She grabbed her water bottle and moved toward the kitchen door, but she paused, looking unsure of what she wanted to do next.

“But why? Isn’t he your friend, too?” Jane blinked, hoping it made her look sweet like Holly.

Amy inhaled sharply. “No, he is not my friend.” She almost walked away. “Jane, you’re just a kid, but trust me, you don’t always know someone like you think you do. Always, always take your drink straight from the bartender himself. Do you understand?”

Jane nodded. She felt sick. “Will he be at the funeral? I mean, Caramel is his sister…”

“If he shows his face at the funeral home or this house, he is going straight to prison.” She spun on her heel and left before Jane could ask the question that was burning on her lips. Did
Douglas
know that Joe had assaulted his daughter? And had that knowledge led to a fight that ended in his death?

Jane slipped out the back door, no closer to knowing who had killed Douglas, and no closer to proving she hadn’t invented the evidence that someone was in the hot tub with him. She was about to drive away when Amy knocked on her car window.

Jane unrolled it. “I’m so sorry…”

Amy waved her hand. “It was a long time ago, but that doesn’t make it better.”

Jane nodded.

“I want to you to do something for me, if you can.”

“Sure.” Jane left her hand on the stick shift, wiggling it back and forth a little in neutral.

“Caramel is a mess, but so is my mom. And my mom is coming by the house later today.”

“She is?”

“I know, it seems weird. But I’m staying here with Caramel for a few days, while she pulls herself together. And Mom is just bringing some pictures and things by for the funeral. Stuff from when we were kids, and when he was a kid.”

“What can I do?”

“Can you pick up my dry cleaning and bring it back here? I don’t want to be gone when my mom gets here. But also, it would be nice to have an unrelated party at the house while Caramel and my mom are in the same building. So, do you think you could pick it up and bring it back around three?” Amy passed her a dry cleaning ticket. “Do you have the time?”

Jane clipped the ticket to her visor. “Of course. I can be here at three. I really do want to help.”

“Thanks, Jane. You may be the first housekeeper who actually wanted to help this family.” With that, Amy turned back to the house.

Jane went through the motions until it was time to get the dry cleaning. Houses were cleaned, clients paid her, she chatted with Gemma and Stephanie over lunch, but all she thought about the whole time was the dry cleaning that would let her be in on the showdown between the new, young wife and the ex-wife. She only wished the other maid, who had most likely been sleeping with
Douglas
during both marriages, could have been on hand as well. When it was time to go, she could hardly contain her excitement.

Jane folded the slippery dry cleaning bags over her arm. There were several heavy garments, each one just long enough to drag on the ground if she wasn’t careful. Jane held her arm up at shoulder height and let herself into the Swansons’ house by the backdoor.

Two cars she didn’t recognize were parked out front. Perhaps Alexandra—the ex Mrs. Douglas Swanson—and Amy?

Jane heard the sounds of conversation coming from the front room, so she went there and stood quietly by the door.

Amy stood at the window, gazing out.

A petite redhead, who reminded Jane of Dr. Laura, stood next to the fireplace, in front of Caramel’s wedding picture. She was speaking in a low voice to a man with thin blond hair and wire glasses, who sat on the white leather sofa.

Jane cleared her throat.

Amy looked toward her. “Thank you.”

The older woman turned slowly toward Jane. “Ahh.” Her thin lips formed the syllable and held themselves there for a moment. “You aren’t Caramel.”

Jane shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’m the substitute maid while the regular is on vacation.” Jane wasn’t going to make the mistake of appearing to be
Douglas
’s current pretty young thing again.

Alexandra shrugged slightly.

Amy took the clothes from Jane. “She stopped off to get my things.” Amy looked from the man on the couch to her mother again. “I think Caramel needs her this afternoon. Until then, um…” She appealed to Jane with her eyes.

The crisis hadn’t occurred yet, and Amy looked desperate for Jane to stay. “Can I make you all some coffee?” Jane asked.

The man on the couch looked up at Jane, his face relaxing. “That would be nice.”

Jane held out her hands for the clothes. “Let me take those to your room.”

“No, it’s okay.” Amy pulled away from Jane’s reach. The clothes slipped in her arms. Amy bent to gather them back up.

“It’s not a bother.” Jane reached for a blue dress that was draped on the floor.

Amy grabbed it with her fist and pulled it to her chest. “I said no!”

Jane stepped back. “I’ll get the coffee, then.”

Amy struggled with the slick plastic dry cleaning bags, until they all fell to the ground.

“For God’s sake, let the maid do that,” Alexandra snapped.

The man on the sofa stood up. “I’ll grab them, sis.”

“Matthew, you are worse than Amy.”

Matthew ignored his mother and gathered the bags up. “Which room are you in?”

Amy lunged for the bags.

Matthew jerked his arms back, then laughed. “Sorry. Gut reaction. Sibling thing.” He held the garments out for his sister.

Jane watched from the kitchen. Why didn’t Amy want anyone to take the clothes? Couldn’t be anything wrong with the clothes themselves. Jane had just taken them from the drycleaners, at Amy’s request. Was the problem in Amy’s room? Someone or something in there that shouldn’t be?

Jane took her time filling the coffeemaker with water.

Amy laughed, a tight, nervous sound. “Thanks.” She pressed the clothes to her chest and left the room. Jane counted while she listened to the tread of Amy’s feet upstairs. It sounded as though she stopped at the first guest bedroom.

Jane took out a tray and prepped the sugar, creamer, spoons, and such.

Alexandra’s voice was too low to hear, but Matthew’s wasn’t. “She’s not so bad, Mom.”

Jane strained to hear Alexandra, but failed. She peeked around the corner to see what they were doing.

“That’s not fair.” Matthew was pacing. He was short like his father, thin like his mother, and older than Jane had expected. He looked like he was almost forty. “First of all, it was a very long time ago.”

Alexandra’s voice rose. “It doesn’t seem long ago from my perspective.”

The coffee had finished brewing so Jane filled the cups.

“Well, it was. It was almost twenty years ago.”

“And here you are, all ready to offer comfort.”

Jane stood in the kitchen door with her tray of coffee wondering exactly when the right time to break in would be.

Amy ran down the stairs, and into the living room. “Mom, don’t be gross.”

“He took her to prom.” Alexandra spit the word out.

“Homecoming, Mom.” Amy sat on the couch, and stretched her arms across the back. “And it was a group date.”

“It is disgusting.”

Matthew sat in a wingback chair across from his sister.

Jane went straight to Alexandra with her tray.

Alexandra waved her hand and turned away.

“Really, Mom. Stop and think. Twenty years ago, I went to my little sister’s homecoming with a group of her sorority sisters. Five years ago, Dad married one of them. It’s not as bad as you are making it sound.”