Plain Jane

by Fern Michaels

  Jane got the fire going, fixed her tea, grabbed a crocheted afghan, and sat down. Olive climbed up into the chair and lay halfway across her lap.

  Jane was on her third read when she felt a hand lightly on her shoulder. She turned around, thinking it had to be Mike since Olive didn’t even bother to glance up.

  “You’re onto something, aren’t you, Miss Jane? I like this kitchen a lot. I sit in the rocker sometimes when you’re at work. I wish I could help you.”

  “Billy! I wish you could help me, too! It was a terrifying day in many respects. I’m starting to question my own judgment. For a person in my profession, that’s not good. Listen, assuming I believe you’re a ghost, which I don’t, can you . . . can you . . . you know, flit around, check things out, and report back to me? I’ve always been told that in dreams you can do anything. Can you do that?”

  “Why?” Billy asked, boosting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. He swung his legs back and forth to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

  Jane closed her eyes. “Because something is going on. At least I think something is going on. I’m nervous that I might miss something or overlook a vital piece of information. I’m just jittery,” she said belligerently.

  “Your patient isn’t married,” Billy said.

  “Which patient? Betty Vance or Brian Ramsey?”

  “Brian Ramsey is not your patient anymore. But he isn’t married either.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know.” It was said with such authority, Jane blinked. “You’re letting it get away from you. You need to be in charge. You shouldn’t delegate. You lose when you aren’t on top of things.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? I know, trust me.”

  “I wish you didn’t dislike your job so much.”

  “I don’t dislike my job. It’s just that sometimes I think I don’t belong in this profession. So many people depend on me, and I find it difficult to be there for all of them. Not to mention trying to be in twenty places at the same time. I have too much on my plate. I’m tired, and I need a break.”

  “What you need to do is pick one thing and see it through to the end. Mark your starting point and work on the problem till you see results. Do you have theories?”

  “By the bushel,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re right. I’m going to start with Brian Ramsey. That’s where this all started. First thing tomorrow morning.”

  “What about Dr. Sorenson?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you going to enlist his aid?”

  “I haven’t decided. What time is it?”

  “I have no idea. Remember, I told you before that time isn’t an issue on this side.”

  Olive barked and jumped off the chair. Jane woke with a start. She felt herself shrivel into the red cushions as she watched the back door open and Olive walk out. The door closed behind her. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was fifteen minutes past midnight. How long had she been sleeping ? She wasn’t exactly sure what time she’d sat down or how long she’d been reading Betty Vance’s file, but she guessed two to three hours. Had Mike called? She craned her neck to see the answering machine on the counter. There was no blinking red light.

  Going back to sleep is out of the question, Jane thought as she peered through the kitchen window. She wished she could tune out the dreams with the boy named Billy Jensen. She sighed. She might as well make this time count for something. She fixed a pot of coffee, and, while it dripped, she turned on her computer and slid the snoop disk into the slot.

  It was 3 A.M. when Jane removed the disk and turned off the computer. In front of her was a stack of printouts. Because she had Brian Ramsey’s social security number from his health insurance, she now had a skeleton profile of the man who had been her patient until a few days ago. It was no surprise that he’d attended LSU and had played with the Bengal Tigers. She already guessed that he’d been a football player because of his hands and his build. What was surprising, though, was that though he had attended school on a full-ride football scholarship, he had earned his Master’s plus thirty.

  Next to Ramsey’s stack of printouts was Betty Vance’s history, also courtesy of the snoop file and the Internet. It was considerably sketchier than Ramsey’s but helpful all the same. At least she wouldn’t be working totally in the dark now.

  As she carried her cup back to the kitchen, visions of Mike flashed before her. Was he sleeping? Of course he was sleeping. It was after three in the morning. Was he dreaming about her? Why hadn’t he called? He said he would. It wasn’t like him to say he would do something and not do it. She rinsed out the coffeepot, filled it again for the morning, and sat down to smoke a cigarette.

  When she saw the headlights arch on the kitchen wall, Jane was on her feet in a second. Mike! She ran to the kitchen door but instead of Mike, she saw Trixie’s dilapidated police car squeal to a stop, red-and-blue lights flashing. When Olive came out of nowhere and started barking, Jane realized she’d forgotten to call her back inside.

  “We’re on night patrol,” Trixie bellowed over the screeching siren.

  “No kidding!” Jane bellowed back. She walked over to the car and poked her head through the passenger window.

  “Yeah. No kidding!” Trixie said above a loud static noise. She picked up the two-way radio. “I’m at Janie’s, Fred. Yes, everything is fine. I’ll be home in a minute. Over and out.”

  “My God,” Jane said in wonder. “When do you two sleep?”

  “We don’t. We take naps.” She pushed the button to open the back door. “Go, Flash!” The huge dog sprinted off, Olive in hot pursuit.

  “I thought you made a promise not to drive on open roads.”

  “I did. And I didn’t.”

  “Huh?”

  Trixie turned off the siren. “I did make a promise. And I didn’t drive on open roads. I drove through the fields. So why aren’t you in bed sleeping? Do you realize what time it is?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s just been one of those nights,” she told her. “By the way, before I forget, Betty, that young woman I brought by—She found the nicest dog, a yellow Lab named Golda. Her owner died, and there was no one to take her. She took to Betty right away. A little schizy but she’ll be okay. So you’re going to have another dog for doggie day care to keep Flash company during training sessions.”

  Trixie looked Jane in the eye. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she said, “I guess I don’t blame you. But you know what? I don’t care. I’m having the time of my life. Flash is so wired up he’s amazing. He found the first bag of dope. Fred repackaged it and hid it again. He hid some money, too. While we’re here, he’s burying different duffel bags and suitcases with a few bucks in each one. Flash is a whiz when it comes to money.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” Jane said in her own defense. “A little eccentric, perhaps, but not crazy. I think what you’re doing is wonderful! You saved a police officer’s life. I’ve never seen a happier dog, and you tamed him in the bargain. I’ve never seen you happier either, Trix. That’s what it’s all about. You’re lucky you can afford to do this. You and Fred have my vote,” Jane said, reaching inside the car and grabbing Trixie’s hand to squeeze it.

  “Where’s your fella?”

  Jane shrugged.

  Trixie waved her hand dismissively. “A little mystery is good for a romance.”

  Jane opened the passenger door, climbed inside the car, and rolled up the window. “I was going to call you first thing in the morning to ask a favor. But since you’re here . . . I’d like Betty Vance to spend the weekend on the farm with you and Fred. She’s not stable, and I don’t want her to be alone. I’d have her stay here except I want to drive up to Baton Rouge and snoop around LSU. I had this dream, and I realized I need to follow all my threads to the end of the spool. That means I have to go back to what I call the scene of the crime. I’ll take Olive with me so she won’t get in your way with Be
tty and a strange dog. If either of you need me, call me on my cell phone. I think if she’s with you, she’ll be okay. I don’t want her to think I’m out of reach. She’s a little brittle, but she has an inner core of strength I’m hoping she draws on. She needs to know people care about her. You’re just what she needs, Trix.”

  “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, Janie, girl. I am having the time of my life. At my age, this has to constitute some kind of miracle in itself.”

  They sat together in the police car, waiting for the dogs, listening to the voices coming over the police scanner. Off in the distance they could hear the sound of eighteen-wheelers on the highway.

  Jane gathered her thoughts. She had something else she wanted to ask Trixie, but she didn’t know how her godmother would react. There was only one way to find out: ask. “Trixie, what would you say if I told you I want to get out of this business, that I don’t want to practice psychiatry anymore ?” She held her breath, waiting.

  Trixie’s eyes searched Jane’s, reaching into her thoughts. “Since most shrinks are nuts anyway, I’d probably say what took you so long? Life is short, Janie. In order to be happy, you have to do what you want to do. If you can’t whistle on your way to work, you don’t belong in that job. That’s a Dutch saying,” she said smartly. “I guess I would have to wonder why, though.”

  Jane bent her head and looked down at her hands. “I think I went into it for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t like I had a calling or anything. Now, Mike, he said he just knew he wanted to be a psychiatrist and that it all kind of evolved. I never knew anything of the kind. I forced it, out of guilt, I think.”

  “Guilt for your college friend?” At Jane’s nod, Trixie asked, “If you give up your practice, what will you do with yourself?”

  Jane sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that a medical career isn’t for me. I should have realized it a long time ago when I couldn’t decide on which branch of medicine to go into. First I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a general practitioner, then a psychiatrist. I settled on psychiatry because I thought in my own way I would be doing something to help Connie Bryan, but I’ve failed. I know that now.”

  “Oh, Janie, girl. What on earth have you been thinking?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t know what profession is for me, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. Before I do anything, make any decisions, I have to keep my promise to myself and do something to help Connie. The fact that she’s dead doesn’t enter into it. I have to do it the same way you felt you had to do something for Flash. God, look at the lengths you’re going to for that animal. I didn’t get past square one where Connie was concerned, and she’s human. Was human.” Jane turned her head toward the window to be alone with her thoughts.

  “Janie,” Trixie said softly, “Fred and I were going to come over here on Sunday to talk to you about something.” Jane turned back, her eyes moist. “You know we’ve made tons of money over the years, and it’s all in different trusts that will go to you after we pass on. We were wondering if you would mind if we took some of that money, leased some of your acreage, because it connects with ours, and set up a school for K-9 dogs. A real school that we would fund. We’d hire trainers, buy the dogs ourselves, then donate them to different police departments around the country. When they get to be retirement age like Flash, we take them back and let them spend their remaining days here at the farm.”

  Tears rolled down Jane’s cheeks. “Of course I don’t mind. I told you from the beginning I didn’t want your money. Dad left me well-off, and I’ve saved my own money over the years. The truth is, I never have to work again. If you’re asking for my blessing, you have it. Are you going to breed the dogs, too?”

  “The whole ball of wax. Want to come aboard? You know, when and if you ever get out of the business.”

  Jane didn’t stop to think about her answer. “Hell, yes, I do. I would love doing something like that.”

  “What about your practice and the radio show?”

  “I was planning on looking into it all after the first of the year. My contract with the radio show expires January 3. I could sell my practice, and Mike could take over the show. He’s a natural. Hey, we could think about doing a show on dogs. Wow! How did this happen in the middle of the night, Trixie?”

  “Pure dumb luck! You were up, I came over. I guess the timing was right,” Trixie laughed.

  “Are you going to give up writing completely?”

  “Not just yet. We have two more books under contract. I didn’t say anything before because Fred and I weren’t sure it would go through, but our agent just sold our last fifteen books in a package deal to a film company in Hollywood. Fred got the call that it’s a done deal around six o’ clock. Five million bucks, Janie. Course the feds are going to take their cut, plus the state and our agent, but there will be enough left to fund the K-9 project. The trusts will kick in if things go awry or prices go up. Emergency money so to speak.”

  “Congratulations, Trixie! I am so proud of you, I could just bust. You don’t think I’m a quitter, do you?”

  “You, a quitter? Never!”

  “Do you think Mike will think I’m a quitter when I tell him my plans?”

  “If he does, he’s not the man for you. Ah, here comes my partner. Time to saddle up and move out,” Trixie said, getting out of the car. Jane got out, too.

  “Wowee! Look, Janie. Flash did it again! Good boy!” Trixie held up a plastic bag filled with tissue and foreign matter. “Two ten-dollar bills! This dog is a whiz at sniffing out money as well as dope. In the car, Officer Flash! We’re done for tonight.” Flash barked and jumped in. “This dog is the marvel in marvelous.” Olive stood patiently as she waited to be rewarded, too. “Two Oreo cookies coming up. Bob Henry told me he always gave Flash an Oreo when the shift was over. He also used to take him to Burger King on Thursday nights.”

  “Treats are good. I give them to Olive all the time. She loves veggie burgers.” Jane bent down to pet Olive’s head. “It’s going to be light out soon. I’m glad you stopped by, Trix. I feel like the weight of the world suddenly left my shoulders. So then it’s okay about Betty Vance?”

  “Send her over. What time are you going to Baton Rouge?” Trixie belted Flash into the backseat, closed the door, then went around to the driver’s side and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “As soon as I shower and get ready. I’ll call Betty on my way.”

  “Okay, then. See you. Have a good trip,” Trixie said. She switched on the flashing light, turned the key in the ignition, and peeled out across the open field toward her house.

  With a smile on her face, Jane watched the flashing lights until the police cruiser was out of sight.

  “Olive,” she said, looking down, “technically speaking, I just quit my job! I feel so light, I think I could fly if I tried. C’mon, let’s get some breakfast. Then we’re going to my alma mater to see what we can find out about my ex-patient. We might even go on to Slidell.”

  “Woof.”

  Jane parked the car in Visitor Parking. She sat quietly, Olive next to her, as she surveyed the campus spread out before her. “I used to live here, Olive. I spent four long years of my life studying and walking these grounds. I think I was happy right up until that awful night. I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t and just thought I was. Come on, girl, we’re going to walk that same route, then you’re going to wait for me while I go to the library.”

  It was a quiet morning with few students strolling the grounds. Saturdays were for sleeping in after partying all night long. There were a few of the more serious students out and about, students like she’d once been. How young they looked. Had she ever been that young? Of course. Right now she felt vulnerable—so vulnerable she wanted to run back to the car and burrow into the backseat. Her guilt was threatening to choke off her air supply. She took great gulping breaths of air.

  Somehow she managed to get herself to the Quad. There, before her, stood the four
-story Troy H. Middleton Library. She stared at the bicycles chained to the crepe myrtles. Long ago she’d chained her own bicycle to some of the same crepe myrtles. She continued to stare at them as though seeing the setting for the first time, then turned and started down the path she’d walked that night with Connie Bryan. The only difference between then and now was the time of year. It had been warm that spring night and the azaleas and the sweet olives had been in full bloom. The bubble-gum scent of the sweet olives had been almost overwhelming. She longed to sit down on one of the benches, but there was no time. Maybe later she’d walk over to the parade ground and work her way back to the Quad and sit for a while. From time to time she looked upward to see if the lights were still there and intact. They were. She stopped and looked around to get her bearings. As far as the eye could see were the European red-tile roofs. Those very rooftops were one of the reasons she’d enrolled at LSU. Her ears perked when the clock in the magnificent bell tower chimed. It chimed every fifteen minutes. Jane looked at her watch. To the second.

  Keep walking, Jane. Do what you told Betty Vance to do. Relive the experience, she reminded herself. No matter how painful, relive it. Maybe you’ll remember something.

  The first thing she remembered was that she’d felt inadequate compared to Connie—pretty, popular Connie, the Homecoming Queen. She’d asked Jane if she was seeing anyone special.

  “No, I’m not seeing anyone special or otherwise,” Jane had replied.

  “You just haven’t found the right guy yet. But you will in time. The moment you look into someone’s eyes and know that person is your destiny, it’s like no other feeling in the world. Todd and I are going to have such a wonderful life. We have our house all picked out, the furniture, even the kitchen dishes and place mats. We want four children and neither one of us cares if they’re boys or girls as long as they’re healthy. We even picked out names. I’m going to bake and decorate for the holidays. Todd and I both just love Christmas. We met during Christmas break our first year here at LSU. . . .”