Grime and Punishment: A Jane Jeffry Mystery (20 page)

The lab man went to his car, but VanDyne paused. "Mrs. Jeffry, Mrs. Nowack — in the normal course of such an investigation, I wouldn't have told you that. But you have created an abnormal situation by conducting your own research. I
don't
need to point out the danger and tell you to stop, do I?"

“Of course not. I'm reformed. From now on I mind only my own business," Jane said fervently.

That sounded familiar. Hadn't she said the same thing to Uncle Jim just this morning? This time she meant it.

Twenty

Uncle
Jim was furious. "You
went
around
telling
those women you knew they were being blackmailed? Oh, Jane, Jane, Jane. Your parents didn't raise a dummy! Why in the world did you do a thing like that?" His voice crackled over the telephone wire.

He'd never spoken to her that way, she'd never felt she deserved it as much as she did now.

With no attempt to defend herself, she said, "Will you come stay with us for a day or two? Just the nights, Uncle Jim. I'll feed you fantastically well to make up for the inconvenience I know I'm putting you to.”

He heard the fright in her voice. "Of course I will, Janey.”

He was there within the hour. She met him at the door with a whispered warning. "I haven't told the kids why you're here or anything about the threat. I don't want them to know. Shut up, Willard!" The dog, knowing the guest and sure he was no intruder, was making much of acting the fierce watchdog.

“Right. Are they here now?"

“Just Todd. He's out in the backyard, trying to make a paper airplane fly. Mike and Katie ought to be back pretty soon. They're eating out. Let me get you settled. I have a tuna casserole in the oven for us. You do like that, don't you?"

“As long as it's never been frozen in a little tray.”

Once she had him installed in the tiny room that served as a sewing room and emergency guest room, he sat down on the edge of the narrow bed and she took a chair by the window. Todd was still out back, and had flown half a dozen sheets of notebook paper into the field behind the house where they fluttered around like confused ghosts.

“Janey, I've been thinking about what you told me. Answer a few things for me — what about the doors? Were any of them forced?"

“Not that anyone can tell. But the last time I left the house, I'm not sure the kitchen door got locked. I wasn't that last to leave. Shelley was, and we were all upset about something else."

“Something else?”

Jane paused a moment, then launched into a full account of her hideous conversation with Joyce Greenway. Uncle Jim took out a pipe and accessories and made a busy production of preparing to smoke it while she talked. It was a little easier this time. While telling Detective VanDyne, she'd feared seeing his contempt. But with Uncle Jim, she dreaded his pity. As she spoke, she recognized with another part of her mind that she was really sick and tired of pity. She'd had a lifetime quota since Steve died.

“The funny thing is, in the first month or soafter he died, I was almost obsessed with finding out who it was. It seemed important and somehow necessary to discover. Then I sort of lost interest. No, that wasn't it. I just assumed it was someone I didn't know anyway, so what was the point?”

Jim waited until she got this out of her system, then quietly asked, "Would you think this woman would kill to keep you from finding out about her and Steve?"

“I'd love to suspect her, but no, I don't think she would have. The revelation won't change her life. It was merely something she felt guilty and embarrassed about, not threatened. She more or less admitted she was paying the blackmail just to assuage her conscience."

“Threatened is the operative word, I think."

“What do you mean?"

“Well, the business of the knife in the bed — it's clearly a threat."

“I'll say!"

“The point is, it could have been for real.”

Jane got up and found him an ashtray. Sitting back down in the straight chair by the window, she said, "You mean it's somebody who doesn't really
want
to kill me? Just shut me up and make me stop meddling?"

“It's possible. If this woman could slip in and out of the house in the daytime when you're gone without notice, she could certainly do it at night, or when you were home, and put the knife into you instead of the mattress. What about keys? Do any of your neighbors have keys to the house?”

Jane looked down at her hands. How was she going to break this to him? Might as well just dump the whole truth in his lap. "Nearly everybody. For a while after Steve died, I was handing them out like free samples at the grocery store. Shelley went to the hardware store and got me a half dozen of them."

“Good God!"

“Uncle Jim, people were coming in and out, helping. Bringing food, taking care of the pets, staying with the kids while I was seeing funeral directors and lawyers and police. But we all have keys to each other's houses. You know, somebody has to go to a teacher conference, but gives a neighbor a key to let in the plumber or cable television people or whatever. We all do it all the time. We have to, or we'd be slaves to our houses.”

It was obvious he was appalled at such a system. "Didn't any of them give them back?"

“I don't remember. Probably not. And I didn't think to ask for them. There was no reason to think it was dangerous to have keys out with my — my friends. Oh, Uncle Jim, I want more than anything to go back to the wandering-maniac theory…"

“Sure you do, but this maniac could hardly know you'd spent the day out picking your neighbors' lives apart, could he?”

She was spared answering his accusation by the sound of bounding footsteps on the stairs. "Hey, Mom," Mike yelled. "Is that Uncle Jim's car in front?"

“Right here, son."

“Hey, neat! What are you doing here?" Mike asked with a grin.

Jim got up and took the boy in an affectionate headlock that made Jane cringe. "Just camping out for a couple days. My apartment's being painted and the stink drove me out. I've got tomorrow off work too, so I thought I'd see how this driving of yours is coming along. I'll take you to school — uughffl”

Mike was pummeling him in the stomach in a halfhearted attempt to break his grip. "Got-char he mumbled into Jim's armpit.

“Think you can beat the old man? I'll show you a thing or two, you skinny kid! You need to put some muscle on those bones.”

Jane left them wrestling their way around the room and went down to check on the casserole. The sounds of scuffling followed her. Mike needed a grown man in his life, she thought. He never talked about missing his dad, but he must. Wasn't that kind of rough-and-ready male camaraderie important to a boy of his age?

She turned off the oven and suddenly remembered that she had a chair problem. The kitchen table had five chairs, but after Steve died, she'd put one of them in the basement so they weren't reminded at every meal of his absence. She had to find the missing chair. Of course, they could eat in the dining room, but that seemed too formal, and besides, tuna casserole wasn't "company" food.

Katie came in, bubbling with enthusiasm for hair-frosting. "I think it would look great on me, Mom. I'm sure it would make me look taller, and it only costs sixty dollars. If you'd give me fifty, I could—"

“Uncle Jim's visiting while his apartment's being painted," Jane interrupted. "I know you've had dinner, but I want you to sit with us anyway. You want to set the table or find the extra chair?”

Katie considered it carefully, then grinned. "What's easier?"

“It's a toss-up."

“Then I'll get the chair. It'll be neat having Uncle Jim stay here. I'm going to ask him what he thinks of frosted hair. I bet he'll agree with me.”

Over dinner — which Mike ate as if he'd fasted for a week Jim told the kids stories about their grandfather as a boy. Some of them were new to Jane, and she had a suspicion he was making them up for the sake of entertainment, but it didn't matter. Funny family stories were a perfect antidote to the distress and horror she'd felt for the last few days. Jane cleared the table and started the dishwasher. She gave Max and Meow the leftover casserole, and treated Willard to a glob of raw hamburger so he'd leave the cats alone to eat.

Jim and Todd adjourned to the living room,where the older man helped the boy with his math homework. When Jane was through in the kitchen, she was surprised to discover that Mike and Katie had both brought their books in and were working in the same room. Katie seldom got that far from the phone when she was home.

“Janey, you look beat," Uncle Jim said, looking up from the problem he and Todd were solving. "Why don't you go on to bed? The kids and I will finish here and lock up for the night.”

She eagerly took him up on the offer. Upstairs, she straightened up her bedroom, then stripped the wounded bed and remade it with fresh sheets. Soon enough she'd have to figure out what to do about the hole in the mattress, but not tonight. She got out her most treasured, expensive bath oil and took a long, hot soak. She tried not to think, but it was impossible to completely clear her mind. This peaceful, domestic evening had relaxed some of her tensions, but she could feel new ones coiling.

It was awfully nice to have a man in the house again. Aside from all the frightening events that had brought him here, it was comforting to know that, for once, another responsible adult was going to make sure the kids went to bed at a decent hour, lock up the house, and make sure Willard went out one last time. Jane hadn't fully realized the burden she'd been carrying as the only adult in the family until she'd gotten this brief opportunity to lay down a few of those tasks.

She wasn't the only one who appreciated Uncle Jim's presence. The kids were obviously thrilled to have him. Sunday visits were a different matter — on Sundays he was a guest,
her
guest. Tonight he belonged here, belonged to them.

Those children need a father,
a voice inside her said.

“Damn you, Steve!" she said out loud to the bathroom she'd shared with him until a few months ago. "What gave you the right to do this to us?”

And you need a man,
the voice added slyly.

“I've had one husband. I don't want another one.”

Not a husband. A man,
the voice intoned patiently.

Jane closed her eyes and sank down further in the hot, scented water.

Twenty-one 4

It had
been
five clays now since Ramona Thur-..' good had been murdered, and Jane was getting desperate for life to return to normal. Tuesday, however, promised to be outstanding as one of the most boring days of her life. Of course, anything would have paled in comparison to the events and revelations of Monday. The contrast was increased by Uncle Jim's watchful presence. He wasn't about to let her out of his protective range without good reason.

At least he, unlike the kids, appreciated the gigantic breakfast she fixed. Willard, who had his big brown eyes peeled for leftovers, was disappointed in the slim pickings. After riding along while Mike drove his car to school, Jim let Jane leave with Katie and again with Todd, apparently feeling there was minimal danger at that hour of the morning.

“I think I'd rather figure out the schedules for the New York subway system than try to unravel your itinerary," he said when she returned from the last morning run.

“It's not so bad when you get used to it. Todd's in a car pool with five kids and five driv- ers, so each of us does both back and forth one day a week. Every Tuesday all year is mine. Mike's in with three band members, so I drive his every third week, except today was someone else's turn I had to take and we'll make it up next time it's my week—"

“You'll all remember this driving debt?"

“You bet. It's like a Mafia vendetta. Now, Katie's car pools this year are a little more complicated. She's in with four girls, but two of them are sisters, so I drive three mornings a week, another mother drives three afternoons and the mother of the two drives morning and afternoon on Thursdays and Fridays. Of course, while cheerleading practice is going on the first month, I drive her myself and the other two mothers share equally, except when—"

“Stop! It's as bad as I thought. Worse! Now, is there anything you need done around here? I might as well be useful."

“Good Lord, it's good enough of you to come. I can't put you to work besides." She paused. "I do wonder, however, about the furnace. Do you know anything about furnaces? I have a man coming Friday, but—”

He disappeared to the basement with a final warning that she wasn't to leave the house. Jane got busy with housework that had been neglected since the week before. Four loads of laundry and a clean refrigerator later, she detected the faint burnt-dust odor that signified the furnace had kicked on for the first time in the season. She'd always liked that smell. It meant sweaters and leaf-burning and Christmas shopping and roast pork on Sundays.

Jim emerged from the basement with soot on his face and grease on his fingers. Humming, Jane fixed him coffee and warmed up a cinnamon roll snack while he went out to his car to bring in a briefcase full of paperwork. As soon as he was settled in the living room, she went to her bedroom and made a duty call to Thelma. As she talked with the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, she went through her lingerie drawer, culling the worst of the dingy white-cotton atrocities.

The day dragged on. Jane got out to runacross the street with the recipe card she had promised to return to Mary Ellen, but even that wasn't easy. "Take it back some other time," Uncle Jim advised.

“I have a premonition that this is the last time I'll ever see it. Things like this evaporate in my kitchen. Besides, I won't be in any danger."

“What makes you think that?"