Good, Clean Murder (21 page)

“I don’t know.”
Jane scanned the row of protestors. They were stamping their feet and cheering.
She approached at the outer edge of the group. “Hey.” She attempted to sound
cool. “So, like, what just happened?”

“That crazy man
with fat on his breath just came out here yelling at us. He was like,
threatening our freedom. It was so rad, because the cops just came, and
arrested them, like that.” The protestor snapped his fingers.

“Who called the
police?”

The protestor
shrugged. “Got me, man.”

A skinny blonde
with a half-shaven head leaned over. “It was the universe, man.” She grinned
from ear to ear.

Jane stared at
the crowd. She couldn’t see anyone still holding a phone. She marched over to
Rose of Sharon. “What were those two arrested for?”

“Assault.” Rose
of Sharon looked grim. “And step back, if you don’t want more of the same.”

“Assault?”

“That’s right.
His hands came in very close proximity to my person. I’ve learned from hard
experience that that is assault.”

“Did you call
the police?”

“No, I did not.”
The bullhorn hung by a strap from Rose of Sharon’s wrist. Her body was less
rigid, more relaxed, as though the arrest had satisfied her.

“Did you make
the charge?”

“Absolutely. Are
you kidding? That arrest is gold to me.”

“But who called
them in the first place?”

“Universal
justice. I don’t ask questions.” Rose of Sharon put the bullhorn to her lips
and began a rousing rendition of “I like to eat apples and bananas.”

Jane stepped
back and looked at the restaurant. Rose of Sharon had made the complaint, no
matter who had called the cops. But what could she do now? How did she find out
where her parents had been taken? She looked for Fitch, but he was gone.

Her appetite had
fled with her parents, so she got in her car and drove. She thought she
remembered a police station not too far away. She wasn’t wrong.

Jane’s parents
were tucked away somewhere in the police station and she was given a cup of
brackish coffee and told to wait. The chairs in the waiting area were hard and
plastic, but remarkably clean. Jane kept her eyes on the bronze bust of an old
police dog on a pedestal in the middle of the room. She had never been in a
police station before and the cleanliness, the dog bust, and the general air of
calm were disconcerting. Airy Celtic music was playing quietly over a sound
system and the smell reminded her very much of the hand soap in the bathroom of
the last airplane she had been on. It was labeled “calm” and really did calm
her down when she held her hand to her nose and breathed deeply.

Her Styrofoam
cup of coffee did not calm her down.

Jane knew her
parents had lawyers, but she didn’t know what to do to help them. They would
call the lawyer themselves. She could call Isaac, but what could he do? He
could make her feel better anyway. At least being arrested couldn’t hurt her
parents’ career—one benefit of retirement that she was sure they hadn’t
anticipated enjoying.

She dialed
Isaac. While she sat with the ringing phone a short, balding man in a red
windbreaker joined her in the room. He had come from the interior of the police
station and paused by the dog head to type something on his phone.

Isaac didn’t
answer. She hung up. There was something about “My parents were arrested, I’m
at the police station” that didn’t make her want to leave a message, but she
didn’t want to be alone either. While the windbreaker man continued to type she
called Jake. The phone rang, and rang. The man in the windbreaker looked
familiar.

“This is Jake.”

“Hey, this is
Jane. I’ve got a serious problem.”

“What’s up?”
Jake sounded bored.”

“I’m at the
police station. We were having lunch at Roly Burger and my parents got
arrested.”

“Nuh-uh.” His
interest seemed to have been piqued.

“Yes, seriously.
The protestors were out and my dad was talking to them and he got arrested for
assault.”

“Crazy. What are
you going to do?”

“I don’t know.
Just wait I guess. They have a lawyer…or they used to. What do you think I
should do?”

“Rose of Sharon
was at the Fourth and Mill location, right?”

“Yes, that’s
right.”

“Fitch was
supposed to be there all day today. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“I guess not.”

“Fitch was all
up in my mom’s business and now she’s dead. Your parents had lunch with him,
and now they are arrested. I find that far more than just interesting.”

Jane closed her
eyes. Jake was exhausting, but she’d play along with him, for a moment. “Do you
think that when Fitch saw his previous employer engaging with the protestors he
saw the chance to get revenge?”

“Very likely.”

“Have you
thought of what he might have wanted revenge for?”

“How about years
of humiliation? You used to work at your dad’s restaurant. There’s not a lot of
dignity in fast food.”

“But that’s not
a good reason to kill your parents.” Jane tried to keep her voice low. She
remembered where she had seen the windbreaker man. He was the one in front of
the news camera at the restaurant during the arrest.

“No, he had to
have another reason for that. I am close to figuring it out. You take care of
your parents, okay? I’ll pin down Fitch’s motive. I think we can have this
problem solved before the funeral.”

“Okay, Jake.
Call me when you nail down the motive.” She hung up, feeling sad for Jake.

The man in the
windbreaker smiled at her. “I couldn’t help over hearing your phone
conversation.”

“No comment.”

“No problem. I
just wanted to ask, you’re with the couple from the burger place, right?”

Jane nodded, her
spine shivered. She didn’t want to say anything to the news guy.

“Relax, okay? I
saw everything and have film to prove it. I talked to the cops and they aren’t
going to book your parents in.”

“But didn’t Rose
of Sharon press charges?”

“She and I had a
chat on my way over.” He grinned. “Ever heard of power of the press?”

Jane narrowed
her eyes and nodded.

“Nothing your
dad did consisted of assault, and I have the whole thing on film. I merely
reminded Rose of the fact that she likes my cameras, and she had a change of
heart about your parents’ assault charges.”

“But why? I
mean, why did you step in like that?”

The newsman
shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. There was no reason for your parents
to go through that. If it had been my parents I would have wanted someone to
step in.”

“Thank you.”
Jane didn’t know what to say. It seemed like an unnaturally kind thing to do.
She wondered, just a bit, if he had done it to earn a new favor.

“Just sit tight,
they’ll be back out soon.” He handed her a business card. “If you do have a
comment, just give me a ring, okay?”

Jane stuffed the
card in her pocket. “Sure.” Always a price. The newsperson left.

When her parents
were finally released, her father was fuming.

“Now, it wasn’t
so bad, Stan. We were in and out, no charges.” Nancy’s voice cracked, though
she was trying to be soothing.

“Come on, Jane.
We’re going straight back to the hotel.”

“What about the
car, hon?”

Jane’s stomach
turned. Dad couldn’t go back to the restaurant while the protestors were still
there. “Let me and my friend get your car for you, Dad.”

“Later, Jane.
You need to come back with us. We have a lot of talking to do.”

“Stanley, can’t
this wait? We promised we’d wait until after the funeral.”

“Absolutely
not.”

Jane knew that
tone of voice. It was the one that had sent her to Presbyterian Prep when she
had really wanted to stay in school with her friends. It was the tone of voice
that had said if she wanted to go to Harvest she’d have to figure it out for
herself.

Stanley’s ire
only seemed to rise as they drove back to the hotel room, so that by the time
they arrived he was steaming.

“The problem
with this town is they don’t have any common sense. I’m not leaving you here to
fend for yourself any longer, Jane.”

“But, Dad!”

“But Dad
nothing. You just sit there and listen.”

“Mom, what’s he
talking about?”

“Shh, just
listen to your father.”

“We’ve talked
this over, Jane. You have two choices, and you know it: pick a university or go
on a short-term mission.”

Jane’s mind
whirled. Of course she only had two choices, but why were they talking about it
now?

“You know that
you don’t want to do any more short-term missions. You made that clear two
years ago when you started at Harvest.”

“But things have
changed, Dad.”

“Not that much.
You haven’t applied with any short-term agencies and you haven’t done any
fundraising.”

“It’s only
March. I still have time.”

“Have you
changed your mind about short-term trips?” Jane’s mom sat next to her at the
little table in the hotel suite. “Because if you have maybe we should let you
tell us about it.”

“She hasn’t.”

“You don’t know
that. Let her talk.”

“Fine. Talk.”

“It’s just that
I don’t know yet what I’m supposed to do.”

“This
dilly-dallying is ridiculous. Do you realize how many college credits you
graduated high school with? Or how many you have earned here? One more year of
school and you could have a useful degree. Would you really rather head off
with another group of teenagers to lead Vacation Bible School in Spanish?”

“I said that I
don’t know!”

“I know. I know
you. You would hate that. You want all or nothing. Your college fund is
untouched and your GPA is impeccable. You need to come home with us right after
the funeral and start the application process.”

“But Dad, I’m
not done at Harvest yet!”

“That is not
what Pastor Barnes said.”

“What?” Jane
felt faint.

“He called us
two days ago to explain that you had been expelled and why.”

Jane buried her
face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t make any noise, or feel
any tears. She was completely mortified.

Nancy began to
rub her back. “It’s okay, love, everyone makes mistakes. Pastor Barnes said
your credits will transfer just fine.”

Jane tried to
straighten up, but couldn’t. “I am so sorry. I didn’t plan on it, or mean to,
or anything.” Her shoulders kept shaking.

“Calm down, love,”
Nancy said, her hand still rubbing small circles on Jane’s back. “It is a
very silly rule at a very silly school. Just come home with us. You’ll love
university. You are so smart.”

Jane groaned.

“It doesn’t
matter how silly the rules are, young woman, we expect you to follow them. It
is utterly ridiculous for you to think that you could go into a dangerous
country unprotected when you can’t even follow the rules at Harvest.”

Jane’s breath
was ragged but she tried to speak around it. “I-I spoke with Pastor Barnes. I’m
not kicked out. I’m taking a different class.”

“Over my dead
body. They just want your tuition money.”

Jane stood up.
“Dad, I hardly know what to say. I mean, I, I,” she stumbled over her words. “I
guess the point is that I am twenty years old and I am staying in Portland.”

Stan went
silent. He stared at her, his face getting redder.

“That’s enough
for now, Stanley,” Nancy said. “We’ve all had a very stressful day.”

Tears filled
Jane’s eyes. She needed to get out of the hotel.

She pushed the
door open, but her father stalled her with a word. ‘Listen to reason, Jane.”

Listen.

She had the
terrible feeling that her good character truly was the result of pride: she
could work harder, sacrifice better, do more than anyone else she knew, but
could she listen? Could she really listen to her parents in an honoring way?

Not this
afternoon.

“We’ll talk when
you’ve cooled down.” Jane pulled the door shut behind her and ran down the
hall. Her parents were overreacting because of the arrest, because they had had
a twisted version of events at the school, and because they were just
overacting. When they had cooled down she would listen to whatever they had to
say.

Thursday and
Friday came and went in a flurry of class, housecleaning, and vendors setting
up for the funeral. All of the tables and chairs arrived, followed by linens
and candles. A woman who claimed to be a stager hired by Jake showed up and
pulled things from all over the house into the ballroom. It looked like the set
up for a very sad wedding.

After the
funeral, it would all be over. Everyone would move out of the big house and she
would have to admit the deaths of Bob and Pamela were just a sad coincidence.
Marjory would not want to keep Jane on full time with room and board in an
empty house, so Jane’s life would turn from the social, if bewildering, life of
taking care of Jake to one of scrubbing drudgery and school again.

The one bright
spot was that date with Isaac waiting for her on May 25
^th
, but that
seemed very, very far away.

Jane hadn’t
spoken to her parents yet. She didn’t answer their calls. She texted once just
to say “Hey” but didn’t give them any details about her schedule. As she hadn’t
had a free minute to herself since their fight, it wasn’t hard to avoid them.

But the day of
the funeral had come and she would be seeing them soon. She’d also be seeing
Isaac, and his parents. And her parents would be seeing the boy that got her
temporarily kicked out of Bible school. Her stomach was a hard knot. She worked
to keep God front and center in her mind. Wasn’t it just two weeks ago that she
had been cleaning the banisters and reciting the beatitudes?
Blessed are the
poor in spirit for they shall inherit the earth?

She had been
using hard work as a substitute for a humble spirit, in the hopes that she
could inherit the earth the old fashioned way: as a missionary.

A for effort.
That had been her motto.

She pulled her
hair back into a tight bun. Today she needed to blend in, disappear into the
crowd. She didn’t want to be noticed as she served. The funeral was for the
family and friends of her departed boss, not for her to try and chalk up more
‘Ain’t Jane Great’ points.

The bright sun
baked the black asphalt. Little waves of evaporation shone above the parking
lot of Pioneer Presbyterian Church, erasing the night’s rainfall. Fumes from
hundreds of cars idling as the cortege slowly filed out of the parking lot
tickled Jane’s nostrils. Family, employees, media, and the curious swarmed the
stairs of the church, attempting to make their way back to their own cars.
There weren’t nearly enough chairs in the Crawford ballroom to seat everyone.

Jane put her
hand to her brow and scanned the crowd for her parents. Marjory, Jake, and
Phoebe were in the limousine at the head of the cortege. The hearse with the
two urns and all of the flowers from the service followed behind. Jane needed
to scoot around back where she had hidden her car outside of the traffic
pattern, so she could beat everyone back home, but first, she wanted to find
her parents and make sure they were okay. She had worked every second of the
day since their argument and it was eating away at her. She wanted to
apologize. She wanted a chance to listen to them, or at least, considering the
tightly packed schedule she faced from this moment until the vendors would haul
away the tables and chairs, she wanted to tell them that she
would
listen to them soon.

She spotted the
silver head of her father by a large rhododendron bush and hurried to join
them.

Her dad gave her
a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”

“Just barely.
There are so many details to the day. I’ve got to try and get back to the house
before the family and guests arrive. I hid my car in the staff parking lot
behind the funeral home. Do you want to ride with me?”

Her parents
exchanged a look. “No,” her mom said. “You’ve got work to do. We’ll just meet
you there. If we don’t connect during the reception, call the cell, okay?”

“Sure thing.”
Jane barely nodded goodbye before she ran to her car. She had the sinking
feeling that they hadn’t changed their minds in the last two days. She exhaled
a puff of exasperation.

Back at the
house, two of Marjory’s nephews were directing traffic as cars parked up and
down the narrow, tree-lined road.

Inside, the
caterers were dragging steaming chafers up three flights of stairs and lighting
Sterno cans. Jane moved from table to table, checking the linen for wrinkles
and the place settings for spots. The reception was a four-course dinner, not
unlike a wedding feast. A trio of strings played hymns in the corner.
Apparently Jake had hired them. She prayed a silent thanksgiving that he hadn’t
ordered a DJ and a dance floor.

A grove of silk
ficus trees with twinkle lights surrounded a lectern where the pastor would
give a prayer and share some more words while guests ate. The whole shebang was
expected to take two hours. Jane wanted to apologize to Bob and Pamela. She was
overcome with nerves and anxiety rather than grief.

The janitorial
smell of the fresh floor wax and lit Sterno cans brought tears to her eyes. It
felt disrespectful, but there was nothing she could do to make it right. As she
straightened the napkins on the table in front of her she wondered what food
paired best with Sterno fumes.

As the activity
of the caterers slowed down, the room began to fill with guests. Jane watched
from a corner. The pastor and the grieving family entered first, with the
funeral director close behind. The funeral director stood by the door to the
ballroom, directing people to the tables as they entered. It was only a matter
of moments before the flood of guests became too many for him to greet.

A very old
gentleman with a walker staggered toward the table. Jane went to help him find
a comfortable seat. She nodded at the funeral director who mouthed, “Thank
you.”

She spotted her
father and mother at a table with several of their business friends. She
scanned the room again for Isaac. He wasn’t hard to find. Phoebe, in a long
maroon dress with short sleeves and a plunging neckline, was draped on his arm,
her head resting on his shoulder. His face leaned toward hers, talking. The two
of them stood in conversation with an older couple, perhaps Isaac’s parents.

Jake and Marjory
sat at a table near the lectern with the pastor who had performed the funeral
and a few other people Jane had seen with the family.

She didn’t want
to watch Phoebe entrap Isaac, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes were drawn
back to where the pair had been standing. Isaac had taken a seat at the table
and was leaning over his plate with a look of concentration on his face as he
listened to an older man. Phoebe was gone.

She enjoyed a
moment of relief before she went back to watching the tables fill up. So far
all seemed to be going well in the kitchen, with the temporary sound system,
the outmoded facilities, and with the parking. She was about to join Isaac when
her phone rang. “Yes?”

“Hi, Jane? This
is Stefan. I’m helping park cars? We’ve got a little problem down here.” Stefan
didn’t sound like he knew where his head was, much less what he was doing with
the cars.

“I’ll be right
down.” Jane took the back stairs and sprinted across the main floor to the
front door.

Stefan was over
six feet tall, but built along the lines of Abraham Lincoln, more or less. He
had his long arms full trying to hold onto a shorter man. They were practically
wrestling right at the curbside. The shorter man’s dirty jeans and high tops
didn’t fit in with Stefan’s black suit and orange traffic vest.

“What’s going on
here?” Jane shaded her eyes with her hands. The sun had begun its afternoon
descent.

“I caught this
guy trying to break into that car back there.” He gestured towards the Crawfords’
back driveway.

“What were you
doing way in the back?”

“I followed
him.”

The man in the
dirty jeans was remarkably silent. And bald.

“Do I know you?”
Jane asked. He looked an awful lot like Sam’s bald friend.

The bald guy in
the dirty jeans spat.

“We’re having a
private family reception here. What do you need?” Jane crossed her arms over
her chest.

“I must have the
wrong house.”

“Yeah, you
must.”

“Jane, he ripped
up the top of that Rabbit back there. He had a knife.”

“Stefan! Are you
okay?” The blood rushed to Jane’s head. Of course he was the same man, but what
was Stefan, no more than sixteen-years-old, doing wrestling with an armed man?

“Yeah, yeah,
Mark got the knife from him and I’m just holding him.” Stefan nodded to the
other kid Jake had talked into helping park the cars.

“Thought it was
my car. So sorry, man.” The bald guy in the dirty jeans muttered, not making
eye contact.

“Did you call
the police, Stefan?”

“Not yet, hands
kind of full.” He held the bald guy with one arm around his neck and his other
hand gripping a beefy, tattooed arm.

“I called ’em,”
Mark hollered, running back from where Jane had parked her car. “I left the
knife on the ground where it fell and I took a bunch of pictures. The cops said
they will be here in a second.”

Jane dialed her
dad’s cell phone while Mark updated her. “Hey, Dad?” she said when he answered.
“I really need you out front as fast as you can get here.”

“On my way! Just
hang on the line.”

Jane set her
phone to speaker. “Can you keep holding him?”

“Yeah sure.”
Beads of sweat had broken out of Stefan’s forehead, but he looked happy to be
holding the perp.

“What did I ever
do to Sam?” Jane asked the bald guy.

“You promised
her that money,” he said.

Jane swallowed.
“So you’re going to keep vandalizing my car until she hates someone worse than
she hates me?”

The bald guy
didn’t answer.

Jane’s dad threw
open the front door and ran down the long front steps. “What’s going on here?”
His voice boomed.

Stefan repeated
the story.

The police
sirens sounded in the distance, taking Jane back to the horrible morning she
had found Bob. By the look on Stan’s face it took him right back to two
mornings ago.

Stan squared his
shoulders and faced the officer just as though he had never been on the wrong
side of the conversation before.

Making her complaint,
showing the pictures, explaining the whole story seemed to take forever, but it
felt cold and indifferent.
What is a car when the only thing flying through
your mind is the people being remembered in the reception upstairs?

Jane escaped to
the house as soon as she saw the bald guy stepping into the back of the police
car. As she went back upstairs, she made a mental note to find time to tape up
the top of her little car. It was supposed to rain again.

The dull roar of
conversation in the ballroom was comfortable after the to-do downstairs. She
was glad to see that Marjory and Jake were eating at their table. They seemed
to have no idea what had gone on downstairs. She looked around for Phoebe but
couldn’t find her. Isaac was at the buffet, but Phoebe wasn’t with him or at
his table. Perhaps she had gone to the bathroom.

Jane joined
Isaac at the buffet table.

“Everything
looks really nice, Jane. You’ve done a good job serving the Crawfords during
their time of crisis.”

“Thanks,
Professor.”

Isaac grinned
“Sorry for sounding like a dork, but I mean it. I think having you here to help
take care of all of this was a really good thing.”

“I can’t take
too much credit. Every time I was ready to order something, Jake had already
done it.”

“That’s good
too. He needed something to do. Do you want to come sit down with me? Meet my
parents?”

A shiver ran up
Jane’s arms. “In a minute. Have you seen Phoebe?”

“Not in a
while.”

“I’m going to
hunt for her. I want to make sure she’s okay, but I’ll come and find you later.”
She didn’t mention the car situation. It was bad enough that he wanted her to
meet his parents. He didn’t need to a reason to act protective as well. Not
until May 25
^th
, and then only if he was still interested in her.

Phoebe hadn’t
returned to the ballroom yet, so Jane went on a Phoebe-hunt.

She had come up
by way of the front stairs, so she took the back stairs to the bedroom floor.
Perhaps Phoebe had gone to her room for a rest. As she turned the corner into
the hall she heard a door click shut.

Jane followed
the sound. She hoped it was Phoebe. No one else had a reason to be on this
floor of the house.

She popped open
the first door, the one to Jake’s room, but the light was still out. She left
it ajar and moved to the next. The next guest room was dark as well. She popped
open the door to the room Marjory was in, but it was dark and empty like the
others. As she moved closer to Bob and Marjory’s room, her blood pressure rose.
She could hear the thud of her heartbeat in her ears.