“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?”
“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.
26
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 25th, 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.
Good Clean Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 1) Page 20