Spoiled Rotten Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery (The Plain Jane Mysteries Book 5)

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “And you want to know what the police are doing about it.” Grant dug into his food.

  She wanted to know what the police were doing to keep Maggie safe. Maggie and her sweet mom, and her paranoid sister. And the dad Jane hadn’t yet met. But equally so, Jane wanted to know how it was all connected. Who had used the drama surrounding the review to make away with two bright young men, and why.

  “There is an active murder investigation into the death of Devon Grosse. I’m not on it, but I’m sure that the team has their eye on the online drama. If it makes you feel better, I will point it out. As for Kyle, there is an open missing person file on him, but I think you understand limited resources well enough to know that we’re mostly just keeping an ear out for tips. A grown man skips his wedding and no one can find him. On its own, it looks like he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Even though they were already married and the wedding was just the party part?”

  “Sure. Maybe even more so because of that. Regret is a powerful emotion. He got himself married and wished he hadn’t, so he left.”

  “But that’s on its own. Surely a missing groom and a murdered best man makes a change.”

  “Definitely. But without a body, there’s not much we can do.”

  “I so hope we find Kyle and not ‘a body.’” Jane picked at her pad Thai, not hungry for the spicy favorite. “If you were a private detective, looking for connections, where would you start?”

  “You’re sure you’ve got the insurance case locked up?”

  “Pretty sure. I’m one call away.”

  “Then I would start in on Kyle’s family. What did they think of the wedding? What did they think of his friends, his jobs, all of that.”

  “It seems obvious when you put it that way.”

  “Detective work is like that. It’s only impressive until you see how it’s done.”

  “You know what else is impressive?” Gemma asked. “Jake not saying two words since he got here half an hour ago. I think he’s under a curse.”

  Jake shrugged. “Not cursed. Just minding my business.”

  Jane coughed discreetly into her hand. Or at least she thought it was, but Gemma lifted an eyebrow.

  “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

  “Surely not.” Jake took a forkful of rice. “Just a man who knows when to keep his tongue.”

  Jane bit the side of her cheek to keep from talking. She wasn’t going to let him drag their issues out for public debate.

  “Since when?” Gemma asked.

  “Since yesterday. I may be a slow learner, but once I get a point, it sticks. Jane’s business is Jane’s business. Oh, and Grant’s too, I guess. But not mine, because what do I know? I just love her. And have an MBA. And a year’s experience sleuthing in a foreign country to rescue kids from a lifetime of slavery. But apart from that, how could I ever help her?”

  “Shut up, Jake.” Jane slammed her fork down. “You weren’t trying to help me.”

  “No, obviously not. Because my instinct to protect you from violence is self-serving.”

  Jane stood up. Her whole body trembled. “You didn’t stop to think.”

  “My apologies.”

  She couldn’t take the big eyes pleading with her. His jaw quivered like he had his emotion barely under control. She turned away from him. She was still mad. She didn’t want to be mad anymore, but she was. Sure, he had apologized. Sure his motive had been innocent. But she was mad. She turned back to the table and sat down again. It felt better than stamping her foot and running off, though she wasn’t sure she had made the right pick between the two.

  Jake lifted an eyebrow at her.

  She frowned.

  Gemma and Grant locked eyes. Gemma snorted softly.

  The silence was awkward and Jane knew it was her fault, but she couldn’t bring herself to make it better yet.

  Dinner didn’t get any less awkward as the seconds ticked by. Fortunately it wasn’t long before Gemma was paged to a birth and had to leave. Grant left with her.

  “You didn’t fall in love with me because of my steady nature. You might want to remember that sometime between now and September when I fly off to Thailand again.” Jake’s jaw quivered.

  She didn’t answer.

  He left.

  Jane packaged up the leftovers, threw out the paper dishes, and planned her investigation. Step one: contact all of Kyle Fish’s family that she could find.

  Jane found Kyle’s sister, Ayla, first. Ayla had set up a Facebook page for the search effort for Kyle. Ayla didn’t seem a bit afraid of online stalkers and had her own contact information, and her parents’ listed in a pinned post. Their parents lived in Alaska. Jane called, got a voicemail, and left a message. They must have come to town for the wedding, and surely, since he had gone missing, they would still be here, but she wasn’t sure where they would be, or if the number she had called was a land line or a cell. Fortunately his sister Ayla was a local.

  Jane called and Ayla immediately agreed to meet at Bean Me Up Scotty’s in Oregon City the next morning.

  Ayla and Jane huddled together over a small table in the back of the cafe, their steamy cups of coffee the only thing they had in common. Ayla was tattooed, both arms in full sleeves, and the side of her head that had been shaved was also tattooed. She had a bull-ring in her nose, and a small steel ball above her lip, like Cindy Crawford’s mole.

  But she was also scared. Her huge blue eyes were wide and frank with emotion. They were also brim-full of unshed tears. “Kyle was super happy about the wedding. Giddy, really. And he hadn’t been that happy for a long time.”

  “What about Devon?”

  What little color Ayla had in her wan skin drained away. “He was happy, too.”

  “Had he and Kyle been friends a long time?” Jane sipped her coffee. Her heart hurt for Ayla.

  “He’s the reason we moved to Portland. He used to spend summers fishing with Dad back when we were all in high school. But he got involved in software development, then hardware. Anyway, it sounded like Portland was where the opportunities were, so we came here.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  She let out a slow breath. “Right after I graduated, so…seven years ago. Kyle had spent a couple of years fishing full time with Dad so he could save up money for the move.” She turned her cup around and around in her hands, but didn’t drink it.

  “Who do you think killed Devon?”

  Ayla shook her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Quite possibly Devon had been more than just a friend to her. Or she had wanted him to be. “It has to have been those awful people that are harassing Maggie, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. I do. But then, if you dig into it online, no one has anything bad to say about Devon or Kyle.” Jane lifted a shoulder. “They seem more likely to rally for the boys than target them.”

  Ayla bit her lip. “I know. But who else would it be? Devon didn’t know many people.”

  Jane frowned. “Even though he was from here?”

  “He kept to himself. A homebody. Highly skilled technically, but not very outgoing. Even online he kind of kept to himself.”

  “So crowd funding his game device must have been kind of uncomfortable for him.”

  Ayla nodded slowly and looked down. “I did that for him. I set it up. I pretended to be him.”

  “How did he take that?”

  “Once the money started coming in, he was okay with it, but he wouldn’t talk to me for a couple of weeks.”

  “Were you close before that?”

  More tears slipped down Ayla’s cheeks. “No.”

  “But you had wished?”

  “Yes.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “I loved him so much. For so long.” She shivered. “Why is no one doing anything? No one is searching. No one is talking about Devon’s death.” She turned her phone to face Jane. “Because they found him near a homeless camp known for drug activity, they are calling it a drug-related death.”


  “Could it have been?” Jane pulled her eyebrows together, hoping to look sympathetic though asking a hard question.

  “No. Devon was clean. Always had been. He was pretty devout JW.”

  “Jehovah’s Witness?”

  “Yes. That’s really why he wouldn’t date me, I think. We Fishes are Catholic.”

  “Do you think if you had converted it could have been different?”

  “It would have given me an edge, I think. But I don’t know. You never do know.”

  Jane sipped her coffee. “Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. What do you think he was doing down at the creek?”

  “His office is right there, in the old Johnson’s Mill building. I don’t know if you know it. It’s behind the industrial complex but next to the creek.”

  “That’s right by the homeless camp.”

  Ayla sighed. “Yes. His office building was robbed a couple of times. Not his office, he had it pretty well locked up, but another office in the building was stripped bare. All they had was a regular old door lock. Not even a deadbolt.”

  “I can see why the police want to chalk it up to the homeless camp, but I don’t feel like that’s the right answer.”

  “I agree.” Ayla finally took a small sip from her cup. She paused before she spoke again. “And I think my brother might be dead, too.”

  Jane reached for her hand, but Ayla pulled back. “We’ll find out what happened, Ayla. I won’t let this drop until we know.” Jane resettled herself, giving Ayla more space. “They haven’t released the information on when they thought Devon was killed. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “At the rehearsal, before the dinner. He didn’t go with us to the restaurant afterwards.”

  “Would you have expected to hear from him in the meantime?”

  “At least at the wedding. He was best man.”

  “But neither he nor Kyle showed up for the wedding.”

  Ayla nodded.

  “Then the two situations just have to be related. Do you think Kyle would have gone over to Devon’s office after the rehearsal?”

  “He didn’t say anything, but he might have.”

  “If we went there, could we get in?” Jane was on the edge of her seat now. She wanted to dig into the scene of the crime, or at least a place close to the scene.

  “Oh no. He said he’s got several locks and an alarm. Plus his window is nailed shut. I’m sure that was against fire code, but he was really paranoid about his security.”

  “Where did he live? Could we get into his place?”

  “Kyle has a key. Had. Has.” She closed her eyes. “He might have given it to Maggie. I can call her and ask.”

  “Okay.” Jane leaned back in her chair to give Ayla a little privacy, but Ayla just texted.

  “She’s working, I’m sure, but she’ll get back to us as soon as she can.”

  “Do you and Maggie get along?” Maggie had seemed far from edgy—not the first person Jane would picture as Ayla’s bestie.

  “Well enough. I like her, even if she’s hard to get along with.” Ayla’s phone chirped so she checked her text.

  A movement at a table to Jane’s left caught her eye. She turned to see a man looking her way. He quickly bent over to dig something out of his messenger bag, so all she could see was his wavy black hair. Jane kept him in eyesight, though she tried to look like she was looking somewhere else. Something about his furtive movements made her think he was trying to keep her from seeing his face. Eventually he had to sit up again. He did, and he caught Jane’s eyes, but looked away. He wore thick, dark framed glasses, and had a scar on his chin.

  It was the man who was impersonating a SCoRI detective.

  She must not have been subtle enough in her appraisal of the man, because he glanced her way again, and his eyes went wide. He shoved his book back into his messenger bag and stumbled up from the table.

  “There’s a hidden spare,” Ayla said.

  “Even though he was a security nut?”

  Ayla shrugged “Maybe he didn’t keep anything at home that he had to worry about.”

  The black-haired man wrestled with the messenger bag while he tried to hurry out. He knocked it into the back of a girl waiting in line for coffee. She glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

  “Come on,” Jane whispered. “We have to follow that guy.”

  Seven

  Jane bumped the same lady as she hurried after black-haired-fake-detective, only this time the lady didn’t just scowl.

  “Watch it!” She pushed Jane into Ayla, who had gotten up slowly, with confusion plastered across her face.

  “Sorry!” Jane turned and eased past the line, only bumping one other customer. She was fast enough to catch black-haired-guy getting into a gray Honda.

  Jane waved Ayla over as she got into her own little car. “Hurry. We have to see where he goes.”

  Ayla barely got the door shut again before Jane took off.

  “Someone pretended to be from our detective agency and was bothering Maggie. He fits this guy’s description. I think he was following one or the other of us, and I want to see where he goes.” Jane stayed close to his tail, even though he wove in and out of traffic.

  He got onto Highway 99 and put his pedal down, almost getting out of her sight.

  She sped up, but her heart was in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to go over seventy-five. A white nosed car in her rearview reminded her enough of a police car that she slowed back down to fifty-five and lost him entirely.

  “Dang it.” She smacked her steering wheel.

  Ayla stared out the window and laughed. “Looks like he slowed down.”

  In the far distance a police car sat on the side of the road, lights flashing. He had pulled someone over.

  When they finally made it that far, they confirmed it was their guy. “Oh man, I so wish I could see what his ID says.” Jane muttered.

  “Pull over.” Ayla hissed.

  “What?”

  “Your tire just went flat, pull over.”

  Jane wrenched the wheel to the side and pulled over. “What? Are you kidding?”

  “Of course I am. But I think it did, don’t I? And I think we need help.” Ayla hopped out of the car. “Just pull the cap off your back right tire. I noticed it was a little low earlier.” She ran toward the Honda.

  Jane got out gingerly. Cars zipped by on the highway. She went around the side of her car. The back tire was a little low, but not flat. She dropped to her knees and twisted the cap off. She tucked it into her pocket. She had a spare, and she knew how to change it, but if pretending she didn’t meant she could find a little something out, she was more than happy to try it.

  Ayla didn’t hurry back, so Jane got the car up on the jack. The tire looked less not-flat since it wasn’t resting on the ground anymore.

  She shaded her eyes and looked back.

  The officer was facing Ayla, his arm a stiff arrow, pointing back at Jane.

  Ayla held up her hands, attempting to appear helpless. The many tattoos and general buffness of her arms in their short sleeved shirt didn’t support the act.

  Jane’s phone rang.

  She held her breath, but glanced at the phone.

  It was Rocky. Bad timing. She’d ignore it.

  But Ayla was a grown woman. She could probably handle the situation. Jane looked at her phone again. What could her new boss want?

  She shaded her eyes and watched Ayla, who was trying hard to get the officer’s attention.

  The cars whizzed by with head crushing noise—and speed.

  Jane wouldn’t be able to hear Rocky even if she did answer.

  The ringing ended.

  Jane took a deep breath.

  The ringing started again.

  It had to be urgent if he was still trying to get through.

  However, Jane’s hand was almost shaking too much to answer the call.

  “This is Jane.” She forced herself to loo
k away from Ayla.

  “Hey kiddo. This is Rocky. I have a bunch of notes on my desk, but I don’t know what they mean.”

  “My notes?” Jane frowned. Had she left notes on Rocky’s desk? Did she know where Rocky’s desk was located?

  “Sure they are. About cake. Is this the insurance case? Because I think you meant to give these notes to Flora, but she likes a summary page with the notes so I wanted to call you and tell you that.”

  Jane couldn’t help it, she looked up at Ayla again. The officer was facing Ayla, his mouth opened wide like he was yelling at her. “A summary page?” Jane closed her eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. She wants one page, formatted like a school essay telling her what you did all day.”

  “I can do that.”

  Jane turned toward Ayla again and immediately wished she hadn’t.

  “You should probably come by this morning. I’ll teach you how to write up a good summary for Flora, and also a concluding report.”

  “I am in the middle of…something right now.” Jane leapt to her feet and ran to Ayla.

  “Hold it!” The cop turned to her, his voice surprisingly clear over the roaring traffic.

  “Something Flora sent you on?” Jane could barely hear Rocky’s voice over the thudding of her panicked heart.

  “I’ve got to go.” Jane hung up on her boss and held her hands up, phone facing out. She ran to Ayla without stopping to think about it. “I’m so sorry, officer!” She hollered out when she was two-thirds the way there.

  The officer spun to her, his hand out, in the universal sign for stop.

  “She just wanted to know if—”

  “Stay where you are.” His hand was on his hip.

  His hip. Did he have a gun?

  Jane stayed put. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Really sorry.” The words kept coming even though she wanted them to stop.

  “Drop it!”

  “It’s just a phone.” Jane wasn’t sure that her voice carried as well as his.

  “I said drop it.” The officer took a step towards Jane.

  Jane opened her hand. Her phone fell with a crack.