Lunch was over before Jane had had a chance to form any opinions. There just hadn’t been enough to work with, and she had failed to lead the conversation. She’d have to work overtime during the siesta and pray that the chapel time in the evening offered some good spying.
One of the house mothers taught preschool to the littlest kids in the afternoon, and Jane joined her for the next shift. The children were gathered on a soft rainbow throw rug, sitting on their knees or cross-legged as the teacher sang to them about elephants balancing on a spider web. The tune was catchy and Jane hummed along as she wiped down the little round tables.
When she was done, she rinsed her rag in a sink at the back of the classroom. “What next?” Her coworker in the grub work was a young missionary named Ginger who lived at the orphanage full time.
“We’ll take the kiddos out to play on the playground and then siesta,” she said with a bright smile. “Preschool is the best job here. Color, play, tidy up a bit, play more, then take a nap. It’s way better than maintenance or health care.” She checked her watch. “Any minute now and we’ll head outside.” She leaned back on the counter, smiling at the kids and their teacher, her heart clearly filled with joy.
The children seemed to enjoy their playground time, laughing in the sun, giggling in the shade. Against the wall of the school house, in a shady spot, three girls no older than four attempted headstands. One stout girl with thick pigtails made it work, but laughed so hard she slid down the side. A thin girl with huge black eyes shook her finger at her with a heavy frown on her face and then broke into giggles.
Their laughter made Jane laugh. Sure, she was here to do Mr. Trives’ bidding, but she could enjoy the kids, enjoy their silliness and be thankful for the opportunity to serve them all the same. The preschool teacher joined the girls in the shade. She knelt down eye to eye with them and spoke softly.
The stout girl who could do her headstand pursed her lips in anger.
The other two took hands and skipped off.
The teacher led the upset girl quietly to the swings and engaged her in a new activity.
Jane had always heard that a grassy playground could be as hard as concrete. But try to explain that to a four-year-old who wanted to do gymnastics.
In the distance Jane spotted Tory and Owen, their team leader. They seemed to meet in passing. Tory’s body language was aloof, seeming to look past Owen. He gestured, like he was trying to get her attention. But Tory didn’t seem to notice and she walked at a fast clip around the corner.
They hadn’t had a full tour of the grounds, but Jane was going to have to find out what was behind the volunteer dorms that might interest Tory.
Eventually dinner rolled around. The kitchen crew served up a cafeteria standard—chicken patties and mashed potatoes, differing from the Northern version only by the amount of spice the cooks preferred.
Jane and Jake cornered Tory and Chase again, sidling next to them at the table until their quarry was situated at the very end of the bench and could talk to no one else.
“How was the rest of your day?” Jane asked Chase.
He grinned. “Pretty good. Got to get dirty. I always like that.”
“Same.” Jake scooped a big spoonful of refried beans onto his plate. If beans were served at every meal, Jane wasn’t sorry they weren’t sharing a room.
“I’m exhausted, but I made it through the day without sneaking in a nap,” Tory volunteered. “Even during siesta.”
“Good job. It’s the only way to get over jet lag. Power through it.” Chase attempted to encouraged her.
“Truth,” Jake agreed.
As the only one without recent jet lag experience, Jane just smiled.
“But it wasn’t easy rocking soft warm babies all day. Seriously, there isn’t a worse job in this whole place for a person desperate to stay awake.”
Jane laughed. “It sounds like the nicest torture ever.”
“Correct. As much as I could spend all week doing it, I hope I get to be a little more active tomorrow.” She yawned deeply, her hopeful words at odds with the shadows under her eyes and the sag in her shoulders.
“You guys on construction are stuck with that one job for two weeks, right?” Jane asked.
“Mm hmmm,” her husband responded through a mouth full of burrito.
“But the rest of us will rotate our way around the orphanage, so hopefully I’ll get a chance with those nice babies.”
Chase nudged Jake with his elbow. “Already with the baby talk. Watch out, buddy.”
Jane blushed, but smiled. “No way. I’ve got my career to establish first.”
“And what career is that?” Chase asked, a look of genuine interest on his face.
Jane froze. Crap. She was a detective. What could she say that wouldn’t get his suspicions up?
“She’s in criminal justice,” Jake volunteered.
Always ready and so smooth with words. Jane loved him.
“What branch?” Chase directed his question to Jane.
“I just graduated, but I’m hoping to work privately, if possible. Investigations and stuff.” She trailed off wishing she could rewind dinner.
“I want to send her to law school. She could be my very own personal Matlock.”
“Awesome.” Chase nodded with approval.
Tory hadn’t spoken, but gave Jane a pointed side eye.
Jane had absolutely said too much.
Tory stood up with her tray. “I’m beat.” She dropped the mostly full tray off at the kitchen window and left.
They had a little time to themselves after dinner. Jane took her husband by the hand and led him on a leisurely stroll around the dorm buildings just to see what might have drawn Tory that direction.
The dorms were located on the west side of the property, removed from the family homes and the school buildings. They were surrounded by sandy, undeveloped ground. No lawn, no landscaping. It wasn’t bleak, really, just a sign that the money donated to the orphanage was spend on the kids, rather than the tourist-volunteers. The land behind the dorms was just a parking lot. Several beat up vans and two tractors were stationed there at the moment. The parking was fenced and gated, the only neighbor a large farm and a two lane dirt road.
“So perhaps she snuck around here to meet someone,” Jane murmured.
“Tory snuck around here?”
“Yeah, sorry.” She caught him up with Tory’s earlier disappearance. “I wanted to see what might have been of interest back here. It looks like a pretty good meeting place if someone was coming here to pick up or deliver.”
“Bummer. I was really hoping Victor Trives was off his rocker. I like that Chase guy. Pretty cool for a rock star.”
3
Miguel, the handsome orphanage volunteer coordinator with the remarkable eyes, stood at the front of a cozy, shabby room filled with overstuffed outdated sofas. He had a huge grin on his face. Two of the resident families, with all of their kids were crowded onto the sofas, small children on their moms’ and dads’ laps, big kids draped over the arms of the sofas, and sitting on the shag rug covered concrete floor, their heads rested against their parents’ knees.
The volunteers straggled in looking hot and tired. There weren’t enough seats for everyone, so the volunteers collapsed into any available spot.
“I am very excited about chapel tonight.” Miguel clapped his hands together, like a kid on Christmas Eve. “It is not every day I have an announcement like this.” He turned his gaze to Owen, the fearless leader of Jane’s team. Owen nodded, also smiling.
“Tonight we’re going to have a time of singing, a whole hour of praising God. And to lead it, we are very blessed. I would like to introduce you to Chase McBane, the bassist from Rest from War! He is going to lead our worship team tonight.” He looked to Chase, but Chase was head down, focused on tuning his guitar.
The other volunteer team erupted in loud applause. Jane’s team clapped politely. The families looked confused.
Miguel repeated it all again in heavily accented Spanish. The parents clapped politely. The kids were getting wiggly.
It appeared that Rest from War didn’t enjoy the same kind of fame down here that it did back home. On some level, Jane figured that had to disappoint both Miguel and Chase. But she was also disappointed. Singing for an hour wouldn’t help her pick up any clues.
Fortunately, Chase didn’t ask anyone to stand, and had the good sense to pick songs that the regular worship crew at the orphanage knew. The singing was a bit like Pentecost—Spanish and English colliding—but it was perfectly joyful and spirit-filled.
Miguel joined in the worship. He had a high voice when he spoke and sang that seemed to fit his tall, slender frame. He blended well with Chase’s deeper but still smooth voice. Despite her disappointment, Jane found herself refreshed and thankful for the hour to focus on God.
Tory, she noted, had fallen asleep.
At breakfast the next day, Jane sat next to Tory, whose eyes were still shrouded in deep shadows almost like black eyes. They were also bloodshot.
Ginger from the preschool, who Jane had worked with the day before, joined them. “Worship was great last night, wasn’t it?” She was cheerful and very awake for this early in the morning.
“I loved it.” Jane sipped her coffee. “I was hoping for more of a devotional time, but it turned out that was just what I needed.”
“You can count on Miguel to get it right. I swear his instincts are spot on.” She had a far-away look in her eye, Jane suspected she might be crushing on her boss.
“What did you think?” Jane asked Tory.
Tory looked up from her eggs. “It was nice.” She sounded sincere, but exhausted. What drugs could she be doing that would knock her out for the whole day like that and still have her in bad shape this morning? Jane needed to find time to call Rocky and Flora to help her figure it out.
“You don’t look so hot.” Ginger directed her question to Tory. “Are you okay?”
“As well as could be expected.” Tory stood up with her half-finished plate. “I’ll feel better after a shower.”
If she was going to sneak away now for a shower, she’d miss her assignment. Jane suppressed a smile. That meant Tory would need someone to update her on the day’s plan, and that someone could be Jane. Perhaps today she’d get lucky and crack the nut that was Tory Trives.
Jane was assigned to the bathrooms, and Tory to the orchard. “Want to switch?” Tory asked when Jane delivered the news in their dorm.
“Are you kidding?” Jane laughed.
“I’m allergic to something out here. Don’t know what it is, but it’s killing me. If I could clean toilets instead of work outside it would help a lot.”
Jane had been very disappointed not to get assigned together, but allergies explained a lot. The black shadows under her eyes could easily be “allergy shiners” and the bloodshot eyes the result of some kind of pollen. The sleepiness . . . it all sort of made sense.
And yet, bathroom cleaning was done pretty much by yourself, whereas working in the orchard was a group activity. If Tory wanted to get loaded, or make a purchase, or a delivery, or whatever, it would be a lot easier to do while on bathroom duty.
Jane quickly weighed the situation and went for it. “Of course. Please. You don’t have to beg to clean toilets for me.”
Relief washed over Tory. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Do you need anything? I’m sure the nurse has some kind of allergy meds.”
Tory shook her head. “I’ve got everything I ought to be taking, but the beast out here is strong. Thanks for trading. Don’t forget your sunscreen.”
The orphanage maintained an extensive almond orchard. Harvesting, processing, and sales of the nuts contributed funds for the families, work experience for the teenagers, food for the children, and even almond milk for those who might need it. It was a relatively genius operation, and impressed Jane in a very “give a man a fish” kind of way. The place wasn’t just shelter for kids, but a real life experience, raising them, and giving them so many unique opportunities.
Her work day began with a tour of the processing facilities which were empty, that work being done for the season. Then they went out to the orchard itself to do simple fall tasks like raking the leaves and turning the compost barrels. There wasn’t much to do at this point in the season, so Enrique, the orchard supervisor, entertained them with the history of the orchard and the many ways it blessed their community before setting them on their jobs.
For a while, Jane let herself get lost in the wonder of service and mission work.
Then the sound of Chase’s booming laugh floated to her from the nearby worksite. From her spot at the wire mesh compost barrel she was in the middle of turning, she could see the men building.
Jake stayed in one place, stirring something with a big shovel, two other men did the same, and a bevy of other workers hustled to haul, stack, scrape and pour their way to a firm foundation.
This new building was the farthest away from family life, and was slated to be a kind of study hall for older students, tutors, and visiting pastors who could take seminary type classes from Dr. Ben Rodriguez, who ran the whole show.
Movement to the side, in grassy area that was mostly empty, caught Jane’s eye. Someone dressed in black, running to the work site. It looked like Tory, she wasn’t familiar enough with her to identify her with confidence
She tracked the runner, hoping she’d grab Chase’s attention, but the girl skirted the work site and continued into the back of the orchard where Jane lost sight of her, though the trees were well tended and far from densely packed.
“Did you see that?” Jane asked the girl nearest her who was raking.
“Hmmm?” She looked up and pulled an earbud out. “What was that?”
“I thought I saw someone run into the orchard . . . just wondering if you saw her.”
She shook her head and plugged herself back in. Jane was pretty sure the earbuds and device were verboten during work hours, but wasn’t planning on turning her partner in for the infraction.
Little tasks like turning the compost didn’t take long, but raking the fifty acres of almond orchard would take all week most likely. The solitary nature of the work made it the last pick on Jane’s wish list. It also felt somewhat like busy work, though the orchard manager swore that raking would protect the younger trees. Jane thought leaving the leaves would have helped prevent water evaporation but she didn’t say anything, since she was as far from a farmer as they come.
Young men were high up in cherry pickers—well, almond pickers—attached to small tractors, “sanitizing” the trees by removing almonds that had not fallen so they wouldn’t become hosts to parasites. That seemed like real work, and Jane would have liked to try it, both because it looked legitimate and because she’d have a better view of where her black-clad runner had gone.
None of the short-term volunteers were offered a spot on the picker, and Jane went back for lunch with the rest of them, disappointed in the quality of both ministry and detective work she had done.
Jane tried to sit next to Tory at lunch, but a couple of overly enthusiastic youth nudged her out of the way. The two girls, a blonde and a brunette who Jane had been introduced to but couldn’t remember, huddled close and talked fast.
Tour. Travel. Tom Henry. Rock Star. Those were a few of the words Jane could pick out of the conversation, so clearly they were enamored with Rest from War and wanted to hear everything Tory had to say about life on the road and the handsome lead singer of the band.
Tory scrunched her nose up, but answered questions as fast as they hit her.
None of the building crew had come in yet, so Jane moved over and sat next to her team leader, Owen.
“How was your second day at work?” he asked.
“It’s a beautiful day to be outside.” Jane sipped her café con leche and decided half milk and half coffee was a pretty genius arrangement. “But it’s
kind of lonely in the orchard. I wouldn’t have minded another day with the preschool.”
“You’re a people person. I can tell. I bet I can get you an afternoon job you’ll like better.”
“Oh I don’t want to be a bother . . .” Though it was true she didn’t want to be a bother, she would love with all her heart to get moved.
“Not a problem. There’s a group of women sewing school uniforms today who could always use an extra hand.”
“Sounds like this isn’t your first trip to the orphanage.”
“Nope. I come twice a year. I’d come more if I had more time.” Owen dug into his lunch—stewed chicken in some kind of red sauce, refried beans, tortillas, and a refreshingly crispy and cold iceberg lettuce salad. He balanced a bit of all of it onto a fork and had it in one bite.
“Thanks for letting Jake and I tag along on your trip.” She knew that he knew why she was along, and appreciated it.
“Coming here is good for the soul.” He put his fork down and gave her an uncomfortably sincere look. “It doesn’t really matter what brings a person here. Being here is what matters.”
Jane rubbed her lips together and nodded. Sure. Exactly. Missions. Serving. She agreed totally with the sentiment, but the delivery was a bit much. “So how did you connect with a rock star like Chase McBane?”
“Same way I connected with you.” He scooped himself seconds on the chicken. “A call came from the Trives organization. No one in nonprofit says no to a Trives.”
“Victor Trives called?”
Owen shook his head. “Someone from the office did. There’s always room for more, so we added Chase and Tory to the roster. And then, two days later we added you and Jake.” He grinned. “A couple of Crawfords, a Trives, and the bassist from Rest from War? Not bad from a fundraising point of view, wouldn’t you say?”
Killer Calling: A Plain Jane Mystery (A Cozy Christian Collection) (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 7) Page 2