“I’ve only known him since I was fourteen, so I can see why you are concerned.”
“You girls don’t have anything to eat. How do you live?”
“We tend to order takeout from this nice guy we know…” Gemma said. Her voice broke, but she laughed.
“You are totally the second-best girl in the world, Gem. Er, third.” Jake shrugged apologetically. “I do have a sister.”
Gemma wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and laughed. “I don’t think I’m ready to be happy third wheel yet.” She stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go hide my pathetic self in my bedroom for a while.”
As soon as she was gone, Jake dove across the room for Jane. He tackled her and kissed her. “You tried so hard not to want me. That’s how I knew you’d never marry that weird Daniels kid.” He kissed her on the mouth, again. “You don’t have to try not to love people if you don’t love them in the first place.”
Jane wiggled out from under him. “Happy New Year, Jake.”
***
Jane smiled at her class schedule, then folded it and slid it into her pocket. She had just dropped her French classes. Isaac had been right about that one—throwing French in on top of everything else she was studying added unnecessary extra work before graduation. Business degree with a side of criminal justice. She could get that done by spring.
She sipped her Coke. Spring seemed a long, long way off.
Jake tapped his phone and frowned.
They both shivered in their winter coats. The Portland State University Park blocks with bare tree branches creating a lacework above the statuary were romantic, even in winter, but not warm. He tucked his phone in his pocket and took her hand.
“So Jane, we’ve been officially a thing for twelve days now.”
“Yikes. How did I forget that anniversary?” Jane laughed.
Jake stole a sip of her drink. “I want you to dump me. Don’t interrupt.”
“Yeah, I wanted to hear where you were going with that one.”
“I want you to dump me the minute you don’t think you would want me for your husband. I am all in on this thing, you understand that, right?”
“You’ve mentioned it.” Jane took her cup back. Her parents were still mad that she hadn’t come home for Christmas. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain the sudden switch from probably-going-to-marry-Isaac to…She smiled. It was too soon to even think that.
“I’m not fooling around. I’m pretty sure you understand the pressure I’m under with the business right now. With the mayor of Maywood breathing down my neck and the Fro-Yo Murder thing sending all my customers scurrying to Bubble-Bubble Tea, I can’t have a flakey girlfriend thing, too. I don’t mean you have to say that you’re going to marry me this minute or anything. But if God starts talking, and he says ‘No,’ don’t try and force it. Just dump me.”
She chewed the end of her straw. Each season she seemed to be learning something else hateful about herself. She was too proud, she hadn’t actually heard God’s call to Kazakhstan, and now…she was forced to face the fact that she was really, really immature when it came to relationships. But now that she knew it, like the missions thing, she had to take it seriously. She couldn’t go when God told her to wait, and she couldn’t up and commit to Jake the same minute God had pointed out that she wasn’t any more mature about boys than she had been at thirteen.
“Well?” Jake waited, his face slowly draining of all color.
“I promise. If God says to dump your sorry self, I’ll do it.”
“Or,” Jake said, “even if it’s not God. But if you realize you don’t want me…”
Jane laced her fingers through his. “It’s been twelve whole days, and that’s not been a problem yet.”
“So I think until that day—which will never come—we need to take this seriously.”
“Sure.” Jane squeezed his hand, but didn’t make eye contact. She would agree to anything if she made eye contact, and that didn’t feel wise.
“We should start making plans—”
Jane’s phone jangled, so she answered it, relief washing over her. “Gemma?”
“Turn your radio on.”
“What station?”
“Any! This is big news.”
“I’m at school, I don’t have a radio.”
“Then hang up and find it on your phone. You won’t be sorry.” Gemma hung up.
Jane pulled up the local radio news.
“Just a second.” Jake put his hand over her phone. “This is kind of a big deal.”
Jane moved his hand. “Jake, I promise I will dump you the minute I realize I can’t marry you. Please don’t make that minute right now. I want to hear what the big deal on the radio is.”
“There has been an arrest in the Fro-Yo Murder. Two men were arrested separately today. The detective in charge says that they were led to the two unrelated men by anonymous tips. Del Willis and Jason Miter are being held until their hearing. We’ll give you the details as we learn them.”
“Hey, good job, Detective.” Jake held his hand up for a high five.
Jane stared at her phone. “Anonymous sources?” She looked at his hand, hanging in the air. “Oh, sorry.”
He ran it through his hair. “Eh, no biggie.”
“We were not anonymous sources. We were legitimate private investigators. Something tells me Detective Benedict is not going to be my inside contact with the police.”
“Something tells me I’m going to have a long wait.” Jake flopped back against the bench.
Jane smiled at him. “But it will be worth it, most likely.” She picked up his hand and kissed his fingertips. “Unless I dump you, of course.”
NOW AVAILABLE!
Chapter One
“Josiah Malachi? Really?” Jane pulled her hair into a ponytail. The early spring day had been dry and hot for Portland—almost eighty. It was great for everyone’s mood, but she felt sticky and dirty after her long bus ride home. She sat at the breakfast bar in her little apartment, the afternoon sun streaming through the partially closed blinds, and stared at her cousin in disbelief.
“Yes, really.” Gemma leaned on the cracked, but clean, counter and checked her phone. “You can still come, if you want.”
“But he’s a quack.” Jane checked her phone, too. Three texts from Jake Crawford, her boyfriend of the last four months, and one call from a client.
“He’s not a doctor.” Gemma tapped the corner of her phone in tune to the music coming from the other room. “Josiah Malachi is a well-respected and influential preacher. He even went on the Hallelujah tour with The Big Worship Band. This guy is hot right now. I’d bet most of the preachers in the world wish they were him.”
“A church quack, then. You know what I mean.” Jane stuck her phone in the pocket of her backpack. She needed to go for a run, and then call Jake back. Or maybe call Jake back and never, ever run.
It was a hard decision.
“Enlighten me.” Gemma rested her chin in her hand. She batted her long black eyelashes in pseudo-naïveté.
“Health, wealth, prosperity. You too can be rich if you send me all your money. That kind of thing.”
“The abundant life movement, you mean?” Gemma smiled. Condescension dripped from her words.
“Sure. Why not? The abundant life movement, where your hard work gives the preacher an abundant life.” Jane glanced at the microwave clock. If she went for a run on this hot afternoon, she’d be proud of herself. If she didn’t, she would have time to take a bubble bath before she went to Jake’s.
“And so you don’t tithe?”
“Gemma, you’re just being difficult. Don’t go spend your hard-earned money to see a health, wealth, and prosperity teacher.” Jane didn’t mention the half a month’s rent Gemma still owed her. She cast a glance at the wall of kitchen cupboards, which she knew were empty.
“It’s free.” Gemma grinned.
“Don’t spend your time, then.”
<
br /> “So stay home and watch soap operas with you?”
Jane wrinkled her nose. “Downton Abbey is not a soap opera.”
Gemma lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s not a bad one, anyway.” Jane laughed. She felt light and happy at the thought of sitting around with Jake, snuggling on the couch, watching TiVo’s episodes of Downton Abbey. A perfectly harmless, homelike evening. So normal it almost hurt.
Gemma snorted.
“It’s better than bad theology.”
“What’s wrong with a God who wants to bless us all?”
“What about Paul? Being content no matter what your circumstances. The God I know isn’t one who promises to make us all rich and healthy.” Jane hopped off the stool. She couldn’t run today and argue with her cousin. That much was for sure. But the argument didn’t get her down. Gemma had always liked to push the boundaries of normal church life, and if Health, Wealth, and Prosperity was this week’s new thing, at least Jane could be confident it too would pass.
“Would it be so wrong if he did?” Gemma unfolded the glossy Josiah Malachi leaflet.
“But he doesn’t promise it.” Jane scrunched her mouth in disgust.
“Yes, he does. And I’m tired of pretending he doesn’t. And I’m tired of being broke.”
Jane just shook her head.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Gemma stuffed the leaflet into her purse.
“Do me one favor while you’re gone…every time he mentions a way you can donate to him, text me.”
“Please.” Gemma rolled her eyes.
“Okay, every time he says that your faith will make you rich, text me.”
“Why not?” Gemma shrugged. “That’s what I’m hoping he’ll say, after all.”
Jane and Jake played a game while they streamed the Downton rerun. Every time Gemma texted, they took a shot of espresso. Already Jane had horrific heartburn.
“What do you have against rich people, Jane?” Jake hopped off the arm of the aging velvet couch, wandered down the hall, and went halfway up the mahogany staircase. “They keep you employed and kiss you and stuff.” His voice echoed through the house.
“I don’t have anything against rich people.” Jane was tempted to turn off her phone. One more shot and she’d have a migraine that would last a week. Even the usually comforting aroma of the rich coffee was making her stomach roil.
Jake took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back in time to hear Jane’s text alert.
“Don’t do it.” Jake put his hand over her small white ceramic cup. “Don’t refill that.”
“But…” Jane’s hand shook as she reached for her espresso mug.
“Don’t check the phone. Don’t see if it was her.” He pushed a plump blueberry bagel into Jane’s hand. “Eat that or you’re going to be sick.”
Jane took a big bite of the sweet bagel.
“If you have another shot, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Jake perched on the edge of the slate coffee table on his bare feet, like an acrobat poised to do an aerial flip.
Jane forced herself to swallow. “I don’t know that you are responsible now. How much coffee did you have?”
“She’s texted six times, plus I had some before you came over.” Jake moved to the couch. He wrapped his arm around Jane. “But back to rich people. What’s your real problem with this Malachi character?”
“You don’t like this kind of thing either, do you? The televangelist, private-plane kind of thing?”
“That’s not an answer to my question.” He slid his arm down around her waist and tickled her. “Answer or I will torture you.” His grin stretched from ear to ear.
“I am never playing an espresso shots game with you, ever again.” She twisted away from his prodding fingers.
Jake pinned her, his knee pressing gently against her spine. “Is this better?” He moved his hands to her shoulders and rubbed them. “You are all knots. Did you work or something?”
“Yup. I had school all morning and then a house.”
“If we got married…”
“I’d only have to clean up after you.” She stretched her neck. “Right there. Yes! That’s the spot.” Jake’s strong fingers worked at a knot right next to her shoulder blade. “When I’m living the life of luxury, I’m going to make regular appointments to see the masseuse.”
“So, let me get this straight, please.” Jake pressed hard against the knot.
A shiver of pain and relief shot up Jane’s spine. “Oh, you’re good!”
“Let me get this straight, I said. You are fine with marrying for money but not okay with praying for it?”
“That’s the coffee talking, so I am going to forgive your nasty-minded comment.” She rested her forehead against the silky arm of the couch.
“So you would still be into me even if I was broke?”
The phone chimed again.
“He must be closing up the show. That’s a lot of comments about money in a row.”
“Don’t read it. And I need to know: would you love me if I was broke?”
“Of course. I’d probably love you better if you were broke. Being broke develops character.”
“Good to know.”
“Any reason you ask?”
“No reason.” Jake kissed the back of her neck and then scooted away.
“Then can you unpause the show?” Jane reluctantly sat up.
Jake shut the laptop. “No, I don’t think I will.” He draped his arm over her shoulder and nudged her closer to him.
She turned around to kiss him, but her phone rang.
Jake answered it. “Love Shack, master of the house speaking.” He held it to Jane’s ear.
“Jane—he’s dead—I—what do I do? I think it was murder!” Gemma’s voice came through in ragged, broken sobs.
“What? Who?” Jane leaned forward. Her already over caffeinated and racing heart sped up.
“Josiah Malachi just died, right on stage. He just, he just…he’s dead.”
***
Health, Wealth and Murder is available now!
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About the Author
When not writing I Facebook too much, knit socks, and accompany my mandolin loving husband on the spoons.
I’m also the author of The Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery Series, The Plain Jane Mystery Series, and one of the authors in The Tangle Saga series of science fiction novellas. I was the Mystery/Suspense Category winner for the 2012 Christian Writers of the West Phoenix Rattler Contest, a finalist for Speculative Fiction in the same contest, and have a Drammy from the Portland Civic Theatre Guild. I currently serve as the Vice President of the Portland chapter of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association.
I have a degree in History from Portland State University and still live in the rainiest part of the Pacific Northwest with my goofy family and two small dogs.
Novels by Traci Tyne Hilton
The Mitzy Neuhaus Mysteries
Foreclosed
Eminent Domain
Buyer’s Remorse
Frozen Assets
The Plain Jane Mysteries
Good, Clean Murder
Dirty Little Murder
Bright New Murder
Health, Wealth, and Murder
Other Titles
Hearts to God
Gone: The Tangle Saga
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Bright New Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery Page 14