"Come on, Mel. Tell me more of what you know."
"Very little yet. We better get inside. You're shivering and I've got to take Edgar's official statement."
"Mel, what about the practical jokes? What have they got to do with the murder? Are they just meant as a distraction? Or spite? Or what?"
"Hell if I know," he said. "Yet."
15
Jane let Mel go ahead and stood in the driveway a moment, still puzzling over what they'd talked about. It took a crazy to kill somebody. That was obvious. It also took something of a crazy to keep pulling these stupid jokes. It had to be the same person, unless one assumed that two of them were completely around the bend. That seemed impossible odds. Two out of seven. Two out of six, really. Lila couldn't have been either the murderer or the Joker.
Lila!
Jane remembered the notebook again. She'd meant to tell Mel a moment ago, but hadn't wanted to get sidetracked.
She hurried inside, but he was in the library with Edgar. Astonishingly, Mimi and Pooky were hunched in front of the television set, each with a Nintendo controller in her hand. They were competing loudly with each other in a shoot-'em-up game. "I got you! I got you!" Pooky crowed.
"I've got two lives left and three bottles of magic potion. I'll get you yet!" Mimi said, sitting farther forward and executing a complex maneuver that involved both hands and a lot of body English.
"Could you pause the game?" Jane asked. When they had, she said, "I'm going back to work. When Detective VanDyne's through, would you keep him here and let me know?" She started to say that there was something important she'd forgotten to tell him, then thought better of it. "I need to talk to him about some plans we made for next week."
"Next week? You're dating him?" Pooky asked. "Wow! He's really good-looking! Oh, so that's why you've been talking to him so much! It's nothing to do with us; it's that he's your boyfriend."
Jane realized she was blushing and stammering. "I've got to finish up the rooms," she said.
"I'll help," Pooky said.
"No, you're having fun. I'm almost done anyway."
Jane made a break for it before Pooky could argue.
Beth was in her room, sitting in the grandmother chair by the window, reading through a stack of paperwork. There was a hint of the earlier horrible smell, but whether it came from Beth herself or just lingered in the room was impossible to say.
"No rest for the wicked?" Jane asked, gesturing toward the pile of work Beth was sorting through.
"More like no rest for the perpetually understaffed and underfunded."
"Are you all right now?"
Beth smiled and Jane could see for a moment what a very pretty girl she must have been. "I'm fine, thanks. I made a real fool of myself this morning. I'm so embarrassed. I normally don't overreact that way."
"Anybody would have. That was a horrible thing to do to you. Do you have any idea who—?"
"Absolutely none in the world," Beth said.
Jane had suspected that Beth would be too discreet to make guesses or get involved in gossip of any sort, but was disappointed to find that she'd been right.
"Do you know what it was? The smell?" Beth asked. Her voice was actually a bit trembly.
"Some kind of fish bait smell, I think. Harmless."
"Harmless…" Beth mused. "I didn't know…"
"Didn't know what?"
"That anybody disliked me that much." A'definite crack in the last word.
"You shouldn't get your feelings hurt," Jane assured her. "I'm sure it wasn't personal any more than any of the other tricks. Maybe you're the only one who had that roll-on kind of deodorant along that the liquid could be added to. I'm sure that's it."
Beth smiled. "You're a nice person to say that. I hope you're right." Then she sniffed slightly, sat up straighter, and started sorting her papers. Obviously she wasn't accustomed to talking about her feelings to anyone and it made her very uncomfortable.
"Will I disturb you if I tidy up a little?" Jane asked. The room obviously couldn't be tidier, but she was supposed to change the sheets and towels.
"Not in the least. I still can't get over how generous it is of you to help Shelley. She's fortunate to have such a good friend." Unlike Pooky, it didn't occur to Beth to help out.
"I'm fortunate, too. I've had some bad times I wouldn't have gotten through without Shelley."
"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that."
There was invitation in her tone, but Jane didn't accept it. Jane knew how to encourage people to talk and recognized when the ploy was being used on her. "It's such a pity about Lila, isn't it?" She started stripping the bed.
"Nobody should come to a violent end," Beth said tactfully.
"What was she like as a girl? With the rest of you, I think I can guess what you must have been
like, but not with her." Jane was determined to prod information or genuine opinion out of Beth, just for the challenge of the thing. Her brief confession of having her feelings hurt proved it could be done.
"Lila as a girl…." Beth said, "Smart, certainly. A bit snobbish, but she did come from a very old, respected family. I believe she was ambitious, but without any specific focus of ambition, if you know what I mean."
"I think so. But most of us are like that. You're an exception."
"Me?"
"The others say you knew you wanted to be a lawyer even in high school." Jane shook out a fresh sheet and started making the bed.
"1 suppose that's true. It's all so long ago — another life, almost. Another person."
"You feel you've changed so much?" Jane asked, surprised. From what the others had said, Beth seemed to have changed the least.
"Of course! Everybody does. Why, look at yourself. Try to remember how you felt about yourself, your parents, and your friends when you were eighteen. You probably don't feel the same way about any of them anymore."
"That's true. But I'm inclined to think people stay the same more than they change."
"Basic character traits, you mean? Maybe. And some, like Kathy, try desperately to stay the same."
Jane felt dizzy from the circular conversation. Beth wasn't going to let down her guard again. It probably only happened every ten years or so. Maybe shock tactics—
"It must be very difficult for you, staying here where Ted died."
There was a shocked, offended silence. Then surprisingly, Beth answered. "Not as much as I thought it would be. Teenage suicide can be devastating to everybody involved. It was horrible at the time, but as I got older, I realized it really had nothing to do with me. Suicide is always the sole responsibility of the person who commits it. It's characteristic of human nature that we wish to blame others for our problems, but in the end, our problems, or at least the way we deal with them, are our own. Even when they're very severe. Why in this case I'm studying — well, never mind. I didn't mean to get philosophical," she added with a laugh. "I'd better get out of your way."
And before Jane could say anything else, Beth had picked up her papers and left the room. Don't be disappointed, Jane told herself. She didn't get where she is by gossiping with the hired help.
"A notebook? Belonging to the victim?" Mel asked. "Why in the world didn't you tell me about this sooner!" He was really angry.
"I kept meaning to and forgetting."
"You say she left it in your car?"
"Yes, Crispy had one just like it, and wanted to see what was in Lila's book, so she traded them somehow and got Lila's out of my car later."
"What was in it?"
"I have no idea. You'll have to ask Crispy."
Crispy was duly summoned. She looked smashing in a pink workout suit and understated pearl earrings. That's a sweat suit that'll never get sweated on, Jane thought.
"The notebook? Dull as dishwater," she said, not the least abashed at not having turned it over to the police. "Some numbers in a sort of chart that looked
like sheM been pricing car insurance. A recipe for hummus. Some grocer
y coupons. The address for a jeweler in New York. Let's see — some airline times. Her flight, I believe. Nothing useful."
"Maybe you'd like to let me judge that for myself," Mel said stiffly.
"I'd be delighted to, but I can't. It disappeared."
"What!"'
"I put it in with the lingerie I brought back. I left the bag on my bed to put things away later. And when I came back to my room, it was gone. Not the clothing. Just the notebook."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Jane asked, angry now too.
"I just forgot. Believe me, the notes in it were useless. Just the sort of stuff you'd jot down on the back of grocery lists and stick in your purse."
"If it turns up, you will turn it over to us," Mel said.
Crispy bounced to her feet. "Naturally."
Mel was drumming his fingers on the library table. "Jane, if you'd even told me this yesterday, I could have searched the house for it and probably found it. Nobody had gotten away. But today, they're scattered to the four winds."
That was true. It was a gorgeous day and even the most sedentary had gone for walks. Avalon and Pooky had breakfast dates with friends in town. The notebook could be miles away by now.
But at the same time, investigating this murder was Mel's job. His only job, while Jane's jobs had included taking care of her three children, cleaning up and helping with cooking at the bed and breakfast, trying to sneak time to write a few pages of her novel, and attending Back-to-School night. Plus, although it was
not an assigned job, she had been on the spot for most of the jokes. Her brain was completely overloaded. But, in the interests of her relationship with Mel, she didn't say any of this. Instead, she just said, "I'm really sorry."
She'd hoped to ask him what he and the police department had found out about the women, but this wasn't the time. Besides, he was pretty good at being discreet himself. She knew what he'd say: "Jane, if a person doesn't have any criminal record, they hardly exist as far as we're concerned. I can dig up everything on a person's life, but not until I have them identified as a strong suspect." They'd had this conversation once before.
So she let him go, still angry, and went to help Edgar with lunch preparations. "We're almost done," Edgar said. "Only a light supper tonight; they're going to a cocktail party at the community center." He shuddered at the thought of what kind of foodstuffs would be served at the community center. "So for lunch we'll have baked sole, a nice Welsh rarebit, and a Boston lettuce salad with a lime/yogurt dressing. All fairly light and feminine. Then tonight, I thought chili and sandwiches. That's macho. Lots of celery and crackers. Cheeses and onions on the side."
"I'd reconsider the beans," Jane said.
Edgar laughed. "I'll go easy on the beans. Is Shelley
ever coming back?"
"Not if she's smart," Jane replied.
They'd just started cleaning up lunch when the
phone rang and Edgar handed it to Jane.
"Oh, Mom!" Katie wailed.
"What's wrong!"
"I forgot my gym shoes!"
.. Jane let out her breath, relieved. "I'll run home and get them. You be watching for me at the front door."
"Run along," Edgar said. "I can finish this up. And I don't need you back for dinner. I can manage it fine by myself."
Jane made a pitiful, insincere offer to come back anyway, but Edgar brushed it off and she took her chance to escape.
Katie bounded out to the car when Jane arrived at the junior high. "Guess what, Mom! Jenny and I have dates tonight!"
"No, you don't."
"Now, Mom, just listen for a minute. Jenny's dad is driving and it's okay with Jenny's mom."
This surprised Jane. Jenny's mother was as determined as Jane that the girls wouldn't date until they were thirty-five if she could manage it. "Jenny's mother agreed to this?"
"Yes, she says it's okay. Just talk to her, Mom. It's this really neat guy and, Mom, you have to face the fact that I'm not a child anymore."
It was tempting to point out that Katie was the living definition of a child, but Jane just said, — "I'll talk to Jenny's mother. Do not take this as agreement."
But she had; she went tearing off like a happy gazelle. Jane glanced around, preparing to pull out, and noticed Shelley's car. And a second later, Shelley coming out of the school. Jane waved and went to meet her. "What are you doing here?"
"Some idiot decided this was a perfect day to annoy me about the children's vaccinations. I had to take a record to the office."
"You don't look very rested," Jane said.
"Rested! I'm the top contender for PMS Poster Girl! By the way, you don't need to go with me to that damned thing at the community center tonight."
"Geez, Shelley, I hadn't planned to. You seem to have come out of your shell."
"Shell? If I had a shell left, I'd use — it to brain somebody with."
"There, there," Jane soothed. "As they say in the delivery room: It's almost over."
"With just the worst to come," Shelley said with a laugh.
16
"Hazel, have you lost your mind?" Jane was saying a few minutes later to Jenny's mother.
"Jane, where have you been? I've been trying to get you for two days. No, this is great. Wait till you hear. Come in."
"Can't," Jane said.
They sealed on the little wrought iron bench by the front door. "All right, here's the deal. These little boys asked them out to a movie. It's one of those dreadful male things. Two hours of driving around in fast cars and shooting and gallons of testosterone sloshing everywhere. Howard wants to see it too — I'll never understand men — so he agreed to take the four of them. Don't you see—?"
Jane was smiling. "The girls will hate the movie, hate the boys, hate having a parent along and, with any luck, will hate the idea of ever having another date."
"Right! I knew you'd appreciate the plan!"
"I do. But it's still the thin edge of the wedge—"
"Jane, they don't have nunneries anymore that you pop daughters into."
"More's the pity. Okay. I'll go along with it. But if this doesn't work, you'll have to adopt Katie."
"I'd be glad to. We could just trade. I'm so pleased that the girls settled their differences. Jenny was ruining life as we knew it. Her brother and father were both threatening to run away from home. And I was helping them pack. You're sure you can't come in for a bit?"
"No, I've got to run."
Jane made her next stop the mall and headed for the Foundations section of the anchor department store. A towering, substantial platinum blond was waiting on two elderly ladies, ringing up their purchases. "I think you'll enjoy these, ladies, and if there's any problem, just bring them back. Bye, now," she said, watching after them and waving sweetly as they departed.
"If they bring those goddamned corsets back, I'll choke their scrawny necks," she added to Jane. "So, how's life treating you, Janie? You still dating that hunky cop?"
"More or less. Listen, before another customer grabs you, Suzie, were you here yesterday around noon?"
"Eternally. I'm part of the decor these days. There are people who claim I was just standing here one day in the middle of a field and they built the shopping center around me."
"Do you remember an out-of-town customer, late thirties, very stylish, bought a whole bag full of stuff?"
"A very expensive bag. I'll say. Friend of yours?"
"No, of Shelley's. I just gave her a lift."
"She said someone had stolen her underwear as a joke. Strange kind of joke, if you ask me," Suzie said. "Oops, just a sec. Got to flog some boob baskets."
Jane waited until Suzie was through showing industrial strength underwear to another customer, then sidled back up to her. "Here's the question, Suzie. Did you notice if the woman put something else in the bag?"
"Let me think." Suzie closed her eyes, concentrating. "Oh, yeah. She had this red notebook she kept
farting around with. Reading while I
was ringing stuff up. Trying to shove in her purse, but it didn't fit. I think she tossed it in with the undies. Yeah, I'm sure she did. Why in the world do you care?"
"I don't know. I just wondered. You didn't happen to see what was written in it, did you?"
"Jane, do I look like I've got time or reason to care? Sorry, but I gotta get back to work. Give that VanDyne one for me."
"One what?"
"Whatever you're giving him," she "said with a lewd wink.
So Crispy was telling the truth about putting Lila's notebook in the shopping bag, Jane thought as she went back to her car. Did it follow that the rest of the story was true? That she'd put the shopping bag on her bed, gone away, and returned to find the book gone? And what about her story about its containing only boring notes? Would Lila have been so frantic to get it back if that were the case?
Then Jane remembered the last time she'd priced car insurance. If she'd lost her notes and had to go through the whole confusing mess again, she'd have been frantic, too.
Preparing for Katie's date was like preparing for Desert Storm. The first requirement was a shopping blitz after school that cost the earth and left Jane hurriedly turning up a hem on a totally inappropriate dress at the last minute. She and Katie got into a slanging match over false eyelashes, which Katie lost, and about perfume, which Katie won.
"Mom! The kitchen's a mess!" Katie screamed at a quarter of seven. "What if they come in to get me?"
"Let me point out that I didn't make the mess," Jane said, exhausted and snappish. "And they won't come in because we will be standing at the door waiting when they drive up."
"We? We! Mom, you wouldn't—"
"I am meeting your date. Final."
Jenny was as dolled up as Katie, and in spite of her irritation, Jane got a lump in her throat looking at the two girls. They looked so cute and happy. The boys were already deep into an anticipatory discussion of the movie, making revving noises at each other. Jenny's dad was sitting behind the steering wheel, grinning. "We're going to the movie and then to Baskin-Robbins. I'll have her back by about ten," he said to Jane.
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