Good, Clean Murder (20 page)

“Jane, we’ve
been over this already. I thought you would like the solution.”

“But I don’t,
Pastor. I was thinking…obviously the right thing to do would be to get kicked
out of Isaac’s class. But I’d really like to take your class. I haven’t taken
it yet, and I can rearrange my schedule to be there in the mornings. Can’t I
please?”

“You understand
what this means, right? You would be an active student this term and would have
to abide by the school rules until graduation.”

“Of course, of
course. That’s what I want to do. Can’t I, please?”

“I appreciate
that you are taking your studies here seriously, and your repentance sure
sounds sincere to me, but you are a couple of weeks behind on my class. Think
you can catch up?”

“Yes, sir. I
can.” A weight of shame floated away. Jane let out a slow sigh.

“Then I will see
you in two hours for class.”

“Thank you,
Pastor Barnes, from the bottom of my heart.”

Jane ended the
call and her phone rang immediately. “Yes?”

“Hey! How are
you holding up?” It was Isaac.

“I feel much
better this morning, thanks.”

“That is very,
very good to hear. So, I was thinking, I’m in Portland all day today. Want to
get some lunch together? I could show you around the seminary and try and
convince you to transfer here.”

Jane’s arms
tingled. Her guilt was vanishing. Isaac wanted to spend the afternoon together,
what could be better?

“It could be
like a new first date.”

Date.
“Ah, well, there’s a kink in the plan,” Jane said. “I sort of am taking a
different class at Harvest now. So, you know, no dating for me until I finish.”

“Oh.”

“I had to do it.
I…” She searched for the word. Failing made her miserable? She hated losing?
She was ashamed to tell her parents she got kicked out? It sounded suspiciously
like pride. Had she chosen pride over Isaac? “Well, anyway, it’s only until
May. If I can’t wait until May to go have lunch then I have a serious
self-control problem.”

“Yeah.” Isaac’s
voice registered chagrin. “I don’t blame you, you know.”

“That’s a
relief, because May 25
^th
still looks free.”

“Then put my
name on it, okay?”

“All right, but
I think I’ll see you Saturday, at the funeral.”

“Okay. I’ll see
you at the funeral.”

Jane hung up.
She set her phone on the side table and stared at it. There was always a cost,
whether you were doing the right thing or the wrong thing. She just wished she
knew which one she had done.

Rearranging her
schedule went off without a hitch, though she wondered how long her clients
would stay flexible for her. Class went off without a hitch as well. Plenty of
whispers and snide comments from her classmates, but she would take that over
failure any day.

The hot shower washed
away some of Jane’s tension Wednesday afternoon. Her Tuesday client had been
flexible enough to let her come on Wednesday, but it was a backbreaking day of
work. Every piece of upholstery in the fifteen room home had needed steam
cleaned. Whether as a punishment to herself or just because, Jane didn’t know.
She just let the hot shower drum against her aching shoulders.

Back in her
bedroom, she had a message waiting on her phone. “Hey, Janey, this is mom.
We’re waiting outside of your apartment, but it looks like you are at work.
We’re going to get going now—dad wants to stop and see the old restaurants.
Call us when you are back in.”

Mom.
Jane
vaguely remembered that today was the day they were coming up for the funeral.
She shivered. She had to call them back, but she didn’t have to like it. She
pressed send with a shaking finger.

“Hey, Mom!”

“Sweetie! We’re
outside of Hazelton at the first restaurant. How was work? Or was it school
this morning?”

“Work. It was
hard! I’m exhausted.”

“We’re headed
back up to town to see the second restaurant. Want to meet us there for a late
lunch?”

“Dad remembers
he sold out, right?”

“Of course,
silly. We heard rumors about the switch to healthy food. I think he just wants
to say goodbye one more time.”

“That sounds
good. I’ll meet you at the second restaurant.”

“That’s the one
in town, remember? On Fourth and Mill?”

“Of course I
remember, Mom. That’s the one I worked at.”

“See you in
about twenty minutes, okay?”

“Okay, love
you.” Jane hung up. In twenty minutes she had to tell her parents exactly how
badly her life had fallen apart in the last two weeks. She’d have to let them
buy lunch first.

It didn’t take
even ten minutes to get to Fourth and Mill. Jane sat in her little car, waiting
for her parents, and watching the protestors. She hadn’t known they’d be here,
but they seemed to be hitting all the Portland locations, so she wasn’t
surprised either.

This group of
protestors looked rowdy. She counted four faux-hawks and one real set of
liberty spikes. There were two pit-bulls on leashes and one Doberman on a
chain. She tried to count the children in the group, but they were moving
around too much: shinnying up and down the flag pole, climbing in, under, and
around the outdoor seating.

More unnerving
than the dogs or the children was the leader. Rose of Sharon was present and
representing. She stood on the curb in front of the drive-through menu with a
bullhorn. Jane cracked her window open to have a listen.

“Two-four-six-eight:
don’t put a burger on your plate! Two-four-six-eight: don’t put a burger on
your plate!”

Jane rated the
cheer a D-minus for lack of originality or emotional punch. Rose of Sharon
seemed to be losing her sting.

Jane decided to
chat her up before her parents arrived. She sauntered over to Rose of Sharon,
offering a mild smile. “Hey there.”

Rose of Sharon
put down her bullhorn. “For your own sake, don’t do it. Don’t get a burger for
lunch today.”

“But they have
such good, roly-poly buns.”

“And so will
you, if you eat this garbage. You look like a smart kid. Do you really want to
destroy your body?”

“Well, no, not
this afternoon anyway.”

“Then sit down
with us or eat somewhere else.” She put the bullhorn back to her mouth and aimed
some more cheers out to the street.

Jane was
disappointed. She had hoped for a little more passion from the leader of the
Human Liberation Party.

The man with the
liberty spikes joined her. “Don’t be a slave to the calories, sister. Set your
body free.”

Jane looked him
up and down. Body ink. Piercing. That lean, hungry look of the dedicated punk.
“But isn’t life about more than the body?”

“Your body is
your instrument. Love it so it can make beautiful music.”

Rose of Sharon
kept chanting in her bullhorn, but she nodded approval at the spiky guy.

“All things in
moderation, right?” Jane said. She wanted to think of the right thing to draw
Rose of Sharon out. Something that would make her confess to murder, if she
happened to be the murderer.

“Moderation is
for people who don’t care about life.”

The punk annoyed
Jane. She turned away from him and watched the street with Rose of Sharon.

“How much must
you hate Bob Crawford, right?” Jane said.

“Who?” The punk
asked.

Rose of Sharon
dropped her bullhorn. “Bob Crawford died. I can’t help but feel guilty. If only
I had been able to get through to him sooner.”

“And Pamela too,
right? Poor old girl.” Jane shook her head in exaggerated sadness.

“Yes, that poor
woman.” Rose of Sharon bowed her head.

“You aren’t mad
at them for the restaurant thing?” Jane raised an eyebrow at Rose of Sharon.

Rose of Sharon
rested her bullhorn on her hip. “I was mad for years, but when the plans to
convert the restaurants to Yo-Heavens were made public, all was forgiven. What
a huge, beautiful thing to do for the city.” A car pulled into the parking lot
so Rose of Sharon lifted her bullhorn again. “Save yourselves while you still
can!”

Jane squinted in
the distance. Still no sign of her parents. “If all was forgiven, why are you
protesting?”

“It’s what Bob
would have wanted. He never would have wanted these houses of death to stay
open like this. They should be shuttered and draped in black in mourning for
Bob, Pamela, and everyone who has died of obesity-related disease.”

“But I mean, surely
it has just been delayed, right? The plans will still go through if they were
what the owners wanted.”

“But how long?
How long will this city have to wait?” Rose of Sharon lifted her bullhorn again
and began her chanting.

Jane was forced
to admit that Rose of Sharon didn’t sound guilty of murder. The Doberman
growled at her as she let herself into the restaurant, but Jane ignored him.
She was down another suspect and she didn’t like it.

Moments later
Jane’s parents joined her. Her father was red-faced and his jaw was working
back and forth. Her mom was holding onto his arm and patting it. She looked
tanner and blonder than when Jane had last seen her. They both looked rumpled
like they had just gotten off of the plane.

“What is going
on out there?” Jane’s father asked.

“That’s HLP, you
remember them? They’ve been at this since the deaths were reported in the
news.”

“It’s absolutely
ridiculous. That parking lot is private property. Why don’t the police get them
out of here?”

“You’ve been
living in Arizona too long, Dad. This is Portland, remember?”

“Stan, relax.
You don’t own this restaurant anymore. It doesn’t make a lick of difference
what the protestors do. They could torch the place and you’d still be fine.”

“You say that,
Nance, but I know how hard this whole transition thing is going to be. The
company needs as much income before then as they can get. What does that woman
out there want? The whole city on welfare? This town needs jobs!”

“Jane, just
order some lunch for us all, will you? Come with me, Stan, you need to sit
down.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll
get the food.”

Nancy handed
Jane her wallet. “Just get me a salad, okay?”

That would make
Rose of Sharon happy. Jane ordered two salads and the biggest burger she could
find for her dad. When the order was up she carried it to her parents. Nancy
was leaning across the table whispering to Stan, her blond, bobbed hair falling
in front of her face. Stan was still fuming. He sputtered a few sentences only
to be quieted by a word from his wife.

“So tell us
everything, Jane,” her mom said, a smile plastered to her face.

Where to
start?

“How’s that
roommate of yours? Samantha, was it?”

Jane bit her
lip. It was now or never. “Well…I ran into a little trouble with her. See, it
turns out she was kind of rotten.”

Stan lowered his
eyebrows. “How so?”

“You aren’t
going to like this, guys. And I should have told you before.”

Jane’s mom set
her folk full of salad back on the plastic bowl.

“See, she
stopped paying rent and we got evicted.”

“Oh no!” Nancy
reached across the table for Jane’s hand.

“So, I, um,
well, Marjory is staying at the Crawford house and they offered to let me be
live-in help. It’s not permanent but I’m saving a lot of money on rent.”

“The Crawfords
are good people. Aren’t they good, Stanley?” Nancy said.

Stan nodded.
“Why didn’t you move to campus?”

“Well, you know,
Dad, I can’t be going back and forth from Harvest to the houses I clean
everyday.”

“Who is staying
at the Crawfords’ house with you?” Her father’s tone was serious.

“Marjory, Phoebe
and Jake.”

“How long do you
plan on living there?”

“I know I want
to see them through the funeral, but I can’t say after that. Marjory will go
home, I’m sure. And Jake and Phoebe will have to go back to school eventually.
I guess whenever they all clear out I’ll have to as well.”

“You need to
have a plan in place. You can’t just wait around or you’ll get stuck again like
you did last time.”

“I won’t, Dad, I
promise.” Jane stuck her straw in her mouth. She wanted to tell her dad she had
things under control and that he didn’t need to freak out. “I’ve got to see
them through the funeral anyway, and with that and school and my other clients
I just haven’t had a chance.”

“You raised a
hard worker, Stan. Don’t get down on her now just because she is working hard. Is
there anything you need to tell us about school, Jane?”

Jane sputtered
on her soda. “Fine. It’s fine. I’m taking a day class this term.”

“Why?” Her dad
spat the word out. “Why on earth is that woman still out there?” He was fixated
on Rose of Sharon out his window.

“Let it go,
Stan.”

“I will not let
it go.” Stan stood up, pushing his chair into the chair behind it with a clank.
“I’m going to have a word with her.

Jane watched in
horror as her father stormed out to Rose of Sharon.

Torn between
burying her head and chasing her dad, Jane stared at him, unable to move. He
was quickly surrounded by several mohawked men, but his wild, swinging gestures
kept them an arm’s distance away.

Jane’s mom was
just standing up when they heard the wail of police sirens. Nancy pressed her
hand to the window. “Thank the Lord. It looks like the cops are going to clear
those hippies out.”

Jane pressed her
hand to her forehead. She wanted to stay as far away from the protestors as she
could.

“Should we go
get your father?”

Jane peered out
the window. The protesters had joined Rose of Sharon on the curb. “No, but I
wish he’d come in here.” Her father stood apart from the protestor, his arms
crossed on his chest.

Two cops went
straight to him. At first it looked like a calm conversation, as though maybe
they were asking him what he had seen, but as Jane watched them talk, her
father’s face turned beet red. Then he had his arms up.

“Jane I think we
need to get out there.”

“I don’t know.
I—” Before she could finish her thought her mom was outside. She ran straight
to the officer and grabbed his elbow. She tugged at it like a kid trying to get
the attention of her mom while she was on the phone.

Jane pressed her
nose to the window. The officer jerked away from Jane’s mom and yelled, his
mouth a huge black hole in his face. The protestors seemed to be singing.

For the first
time, Jane noticed the TV news van.

Jane watched as
a camera trained in on the picture of her parents being put into the back of a
police car. Jane turned her head away. Was there someone in the restaurant who
could help them? She ran back to the manager’s office, an instinct from the
days her father had owned the restaurant. “Hey! We need help out in the parking
lot!”

A man in a gray
suit sat at the desk. He turned slowly to her.

“Fitch?”

“Jane? What are
you doing back here?”

“I think my
parents just got arrested in the parking lot! Come help!” Jane ran back out
before Fitch could respond, but she was too late, the police car was already
pulling out of the parking lot.

Jane held her
side, panting. “What happened?” she hollered towards the protestors.

“Justice!” they
shouted in unison.

Fitch was at her
side. “Jane, what just happened here?”

“I don’t know.
One minute I was having lunch, the next minute my parents were in the back of a
police car. Where is the restaurant manager?”

“He’s at a
manager’s meeting with his shift leaders. I’m pitching in and looking over some
requisitions at the same time. Tell me again: Why did your parents get
arrested?”