Good Clean Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 1)

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “No. Not that he tells me, at least.”

  “So…speaking of Jake, how is he grieving?” Isaac gave her a sidelong glance. “Have you been able to find a way to serve him?”

  Now was the moment. Her heart was in her throat, but she had to tell him. “He’s not doing well, I don’t think. Last night he seemed to finally have a real emotional experience. That seemed good.”

  “That is good. It means he feels safe with you, and he should. You are pretty great.”

  “Yeah…” She didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t really Isaac’s business. He didn’t need to know. She went back and forth on it. If Isaac was one of her girl friends, she would tell him. If he was her boyfriend she would tell him, but he was neither. He was someone she’d maybe like to have for her boyfriend.

  Where did that put him on the “tell” list?

  “Do you want to talk it through? I’ve got some solid grief counseling classes under my belt.” He grinned at her again.

  Jane took a deep breath and then plunged in. “So he was crying really hard and I gave him a hug and he kissed me but I told him to stop and he didn’t do it again.” She got it all out in one breath, staring straight ahead.

  Isaac was silent.

  “I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, I’ve known Jake since forever and he’s never shown any interest in me. I don’t believe he’s interested now. He was just acting out.”

  Isaac was still silent.

  “Anyway, I put my foot down and made it absolutely clear that that was unacceptable and inappropriate.” As she tried to clear herself of wrong doing she was very glad she hadn’t mentioned being alone and on a bed at the time of the kiss.

  “What a jerk.”

  “Yeah. That’s kind of been his M. O. since his parents died. He definitely needs counseling.” Jane steeled herself for the worst, and then turned to look at Isaac. His face looked sad.

  “Is Phoebe staying there now?” Isaac asked.

  “She is, and Marjory. And I’m on the third floor in the old servants’ bedrooms.”

  “Good. But if he should do anything—try anything like that again—you know you could call me if you needed help, right?”

  “Thanks.” She let out a breath that she had been holding. It was okay. He didn’t think she was responsible for the kiss.

  At the tire shop Isaac let Jane fumble her way around, picking a tire and paying for it. The shop strongly encouraged her to buy all four, or at least two. Not knowing exactly how she was going to pay off her slowly mounting credit card bill, she refused.

  The drive back to the Crawford house was equally silent. Jane turned on the radio. If the drive to the tire shop had felt like miles, the drive back felt eternal.

  She pulled around back and parked in her usual spot. While she was turning off her car, Isaac got out, and opened her door for her.

  She kept her eye on Isaac as she got out, but he looked distracted, his eyes darting from her to the house.

  “Would you mind if I come in with you?” Isaac was looking toward the house, not at her as he spoke.

  “Not at all. Come on in.” She let him in through the mudroom door, wondering if it was late enough to offer him lunch.

  They stepped through into the kitchen where Jake was sitting, in his boxers yet again, eating a bowl of cereal. Isaac joined him at the island.

  “Jake.”

  “Daniels.”

  Jane hovered in the door.

  Isaac leaned forward. “About Jane.”

  “She’s a good girl, that one.” Jake slurped a spoonful of cereal. A bit of milk dribbled down his chin.

  “She’s a really great girl, and you need to leave her alone.”

  “What’s this?” Jake let his spoon fall into his bowl. Droplets of milk splashed onto the black counter.

  “I know things are rough right now.” Isaac bobbed on the balls of his feet, like a boxer. “But that’s no reason to be a jerk.”

  “What’s his problem?” Jake looked past Isaac.

  Jane cringed and shook her head. “Hey, Isaac, can I fix you some lunch?”

  “My problem is that you need to keep your hands off of Jane.”

  “Oh. I see. Is she yours then? You, like, own her or something? You met her like yesterday and now she’s yours? Sure. Why not? You can have her. She doesn’t like to have fun anyway.” The look on Jake’s face was a mixture of boredom and superiority, and yet, Jane thought she saw pain in his eyes.

  “She’s a lady. Don’t forget it.” Isaac rocked back onto his heels. He crossed his arms on his chest, and for the first time Jane noticed his thick, muscled arms. Phoebe had said he looked good in a tank top—she wasn’t exaggerating.

  “I won’t, Coach. She made it perfectly clear to me that she is a lady and I am nothing but a big, dumb boy. Why you know about it now, well, I can guess why. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve been firmly, resolutely, and completely rejected.”

  Isaac gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing. “I’m glad to hear that you know it.”

  “Walk out with me, Isaac, okay?” Jane led Isaac outside. “What was that about?”

  “I’ve known that kid for a long time and I don’t trust him. When I brought you home yesterday and realized where you were staying, I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

  “You shouldn’t have let him know that I told you about the kiss. He’s in a really bad place right now. What if he won’t trust me anymore?”

  “What if he tries something worse? I couldn’t live with myself. He had to know you have someone looking out for you.”

  Jane pursed her lips. She was surprised to find that protective jealousy was a bit ugly. Flattering, but not attractive. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m sorry you’re mad at me, but I’m not sorry I did it. Just remember you can call me, anytime, okay?” He raised his eyebrow, hope written on his face.

  Jane nodded. She was melting. He was looking out for her, after two long years of mostly looking out for herself. “I really wish you hadn’t said anything, but thank you for the thought behind it.”

  “See you in class tonight?”

  “Yes, Mr. Daniels. I’ll see you in class tonight.”

  Isaac grinned, then strode down to the street, to his car.

  Jane stared at the big house. Go back in and face Jake or let him cool off first? She decided to get in her car and drive to her next client.

  Jane felt like she had scrubbed every inch of the Laurelhurst neighborhood into hygienic submission before she finally got back to Jake. He was waiting in the office with the autopsy report. Jane’s shoulders ached from scrubbing the stained grout in the tile surround of a new client’s garden tub. She rolled them back and forth in an attempt to stretch the tight muscles.

  The oiled leather furniture gave the room the dignified aroma a hundred-year-old mansion deserved. A light breeze blew fresh spring air in through the opened window, rustling the papers on the desk.

  “Cute boyfriend. Kind of tough, but kind of smart at the same time.”

  “I just met him. He’s hardly my boyfriend.”

  “Well he and I didn’t just meet, and I’d bet money that he thinks he’s your boyfriend.”

  “He doesn’t. Just forget about it.”

  “Why did you tattle on me?” Jake’s eyes still had a look of pain in them. That moment when he’d cried and kissed her had been his first sincere moment with her.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t say anything bad, I promise. It’s just, that I am interested in him. I really didn’t know if I should say anything or not, but if it had come out in some other way, that I had been kissing you, it could have been worse.”

  “Were you afraid I would tell on you? For shame. You can trust me.” His eyes sparked with humor again, the hurt look mostly gone.

  From the way his face relaxed, she guessed Jake had only been scared someone else knew he had been crying.

  Jake stuck his hand out.

  She shook
it, half expecting him to pull her in for another taboo kiss, but he was as good as his word.

  “Do you have the autopsy report?” Jane asked when their moment was over.

  “Here it is. Are you ready?” Jake sat cross-legged in front of Jane. He held the report in front of him like a menu. “For bruising: Pamela Crawford has one bruised wrist that looked consistent with finger tips, like someone had held her real hard. She also had a bruise on her shoulder, cause unknown.” Jake cleared his throat and turned to the next page. “Robert Crawford had bruising and burns on his chest from trying to electrify him back to life, plus bruising on his collar bone, cause: unknown.”

  “That’s not what it says,” Jane said.

  “It is a highly accurate paraphrase.”

  “Okay, so they have some bruising. What else does it say?”

  “The medical examiner says the bruising is consistent with a light altercation between two adults, quite possibly, I am adding myself, these same two adults.”

  “Or those two adults and a third, unknown person.” Jane leaned forward, resting on her elbows to stretch her back.

  “Yes, of course. It is always possible that there was a third person in the room the night before, getting into a light altercation with my parents.” Jake rustled his papers in an officious manner.

  “What about the cause of death?”

  “Now here is the suspicious part. The reason, I am sure, for the continued investigation.”

  Jane sat up.

  “They both died of cardiac arrest. Heart attacks. Their hearts stopped.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s all it takes.”

  “Nothing more? The lady at the desk at the M. E.’s office said it would say that, but doesn’t it say anything else?”

  “I suppose something could come up when the lab reports are back.” Jake laid the papers on the floor. “But they’ll be buried and memorialized long before that. She said it would be at least two weeks more.”

  “Do you think the ‘light altercation’ could have caused a heart attack?” Jane reached for the papers. Jake’s paraphrase might have left out something important.

  “You knew them. Dad was a recovering burger-a-holic and mom, while a fine figure of a woman, huffed and puffed climbing the stairs. I would guess for two people not used to ‘light altercations’ it could have given them a heart attack.”

  Jane read while Jake spoke. He was back in his mood again—erratic and sarcastic. Whatever serious, grown-up personality he had found while they searched the bedroom had been tucked safely away, but as far as she could tell from the M. E.’s report, his paraphrase had been accurate.

  “I know if I had seen them in a ‘light altercation’ I would have had a heart attack.”

  Jane smiled, though not with her heart. “Me too. I can’t imagine them fighting, much less using force against each other. Bruising each other? It’s unbelievable.”

  “Suing each other, I could see. But bruising? About as likely as a slap fight, hair pulling, or kung fu. More likely mom fell and he dragged her up, bruising her wrist and she pushed him out of the way or something like that.” Jake leaned back against the big, old walnut desk.

  “But where would she have fallen?”

  “Bathtub? If she fell in the bathtub, it would have been slippery. She might have needed help up. He might have bruised her wrists while he was helping her. I don’t know. Is it more likely that there was a third man in there having a push fight with them?”

  “No. It’s not more likely.” Jane stood up and stretched her legs. “The trouble is, no one who had a motive had any access to your parents. I am beginning to think it really was just a tragic coincidence.”

  “But it wasn’t. By no stretch.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if it had been?” Jane shut the window.

  “That’s like asking wouldn’t it be better if Bob Dole had been the President. It’s not what was, so it doesn’t matter.” Jake stood up too. He picked up several papers that had blown to the floor.

  “I feel that way too, but I have nothing solid to pin my suspicions on.”

  “Nothing solid? Ask yourself this: Why did Fitch refuse to order new restaurant equipment for me?”

  Jane’s heart sank. If Jake was going to revert to nonsense as a way to deal with the tragedy again then she’d have to continue her hunt for the killer on her own. He was no use to her if he wouldn’t be serious. “If you figure out the answer to that one, let me know. I’ve got to go study for a while. I’m pretty behind on my school work.” Jane left Jake sorting the papers on his father’s desk. She was honest at least, and once in her room she took out the articles that Isaac had sent the class off with and settled in for some study time.

  Several hours later, Jane woke up, the staple from the photocopies pressed into her forehead. She sat up, rubbing at the spot. Bleary-eyed, she patted her bed for her phone. When she found it, she pressed it at random with her thumbs to wake it up. When she finally managed to unlock it, she checked the time. Ten pm. Class was out.

  She flopped back on her bed. She couldn’t remember a thing she had been reading, but she was intensely aware that she had parted with Isaac more than a little annoyed with him, and then skipped his class.

  She crossed her arms over her head and yawned. She’d have to find a way to let him know she hadn’t missed it on purpose, because of the thing with Jake. She tried to focus on how she might do that without seeming forward, or breaking the law from Pastor Barnes. Before she had any solid idea, she had drifted back to sleep, to dream of punctured tires, dead friends, and little rats chewing their way through her homework.

  18

  Jane stood in front of the hot stove on Thursday morning trying to put the perfect crisp on a batch of hash browns. She wanted to put a feast in front of Marjory, get her happy and comfortable, and then ask her a few questions about Switzerland and the corporation. It wasn’t just an excuse to put off planning her own future, she told herself. She was helping solve the crime.

  The potatoes were soggy on the outside, raw on the inside, and sticking to the pan. Jane gave up on them. She checked the oven. The frozen quiche seemed to be doing fine.

  Marjory, dressed in a business suit with full make-up and hair, like always, stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. “It smells heavenly in here.”

  “Thanks. Why don’t you sit down? Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “Save it for the kids, Jane. I don’t have any time this morning.”

  Jane tried to keep her smile in place. “Are you sure? Not even a little?”

  “I’ll take a cup of coffee with me, but I need to shut myself in the office. I’m swamped with work.”

  Jane decided to plunge right in, before her few seconds with Marjory vanished. “What you need is a vacation.”

  “I needed a vacation before Bob and Pamela passed. Now I need a personal assistant, and a vacation.” Marjory filled a mug with coffee.

  “Will you have time to get away after the funeral?”

  “If only I could. I don’t dare leave until probate is over and the estate is settled.”

  “How long could that take?” A bitter, burning smell hit Jane. She dug into the potatoes with her spatula trying to turn them.

  “I can’t say for sure, but the lawyer indicated it could be up to a year.” Marjory frowned at the stove. “You need to take that off of the heat.”

  Jane moved the pan. “Who is in charge while you all are waiting for probate?”

  “You really aren’t a cook, are you?” Marjory stared at the pan of potatoes. “Didn’t you ever work in your father’s kitchen?”

  “Of course I did, but we deep fried those potatoes.” Was Marjory avoiding her questions?

  “Ah yes, that’s right. We do deep fry them. Well, I don’t yet know who will be in charge after the estate is settled. It’s a private company so Jake and Phoebe will each own half of the lion’s share. They’ll have to make a lot of
decisions about the future of the company.”

  “Are they ready for that?” Jane stirred her potatoes around, trying to look casual.

  “No. Not at all. I’m trying to hold the ship together for them until then. One good thing about probate: it gives them a year to learn about the business.”

  “And when you are done schooling them you’ll really be ready for a vacation.” Jane turned and smiled at Marjory, hoping her look came off as sympathetic.

  “I will.” Marjory looked at her watch. “The worst part about all of this is that Pam needed a break too. We were headed off together.” Marjory’s voice cracked. “She had invited me back to her favorite little Swiss village for some R and R.” Marjory shaded her eyes with her hand. “Next time I have a break, I won’t get to have it with my best friend.”

  Jane pulled a paper towel off the roll by the stove and handed it to Marjory.

  Marjory held it under her eyes. “Thank you. I need to keep it together until the funeral.” She dabbed with the towel to mop up the tears that were beginning to smudge her mascara. “And I need to pull myself together for the business meeting. The board wants to run away with the business before Jake and Phoebe have a chance to make any decisions. I can’t let that happen.” Marjory looked up at Jane with a grim face. She folded her paper towel into quarters and slid it into the pocket of her suit jacket. “Thank you for thinking of a nice breakfast, Jane. We’ll have to try again another morning.” Marjory wrapped her hands around her mug and left.

  Marjory didn’t seem to relish running the business. Jane thought it was impossible that she would have killed her best friend for any reason, much less to get control of a business she didn’t like running.

  Jane dumped her potato mess in the scrap bucket. She considered taking it out to the compost when there was a knock at the back door. Killing two birds with one stone, she grabbed the scraps and went to the door.

  She opened it to find Isaac on the other side of the screen with a sheepish grin on his face.

  “Want to play hooky with me?”

  Jane looked from Isaac to the scraps. “I can’t.”