Jane found a crumpled picture of Phoebe tucked in the mess. She looked about twelve years old. At some point in time Pamela had reminisced, holding a picture of her daughter in her hands, right before she went to sleep. A little sob welled up and stuck at the back of Jane’s throat.
Then the bed shook.
Jane rocked forward and steadied herself on the side table.
“I am so sorry.” Jake grabbed Jane around the waist and pulled her to himself. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. “I am so sorry I was a jerk. So, so sorry.” He wept as he held her.
They were both on their knees on Bob and Pamela’s bed. Jane held Jake and let him cry.
Jake’s weeping subsided. He lifted his head off Jane’s shoulders. His eyes were round and red.
She wiped his tears away with her thumb. Her face was hot, and Jake was inches away, his breath sweet like minty toothpaste.
He leaned in and kissed her.
Jane pushed him away. Her hands were sweating and she could hear her heart beat in her ears. “Jake, no. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her with his big, sad eyes. “No?”
Jane scooted backwards on her knees until she reached the edge. Then she stood up. He looked so small, kneeling on the bed, that she sat down again, but on the edge of the bed, a couple of feet away from him. “I’m sorry.”
He flopped back on to his father’s pillow, his eyes closed. “No one else on Earth would say no to me, right now.”
“You’re probably right, but I don’t kiss boys I don’t love, and I am not in love with you.” She bit her lower lip, sure she meant what she said, but also, just a little unsure.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I’m looking for anything that can help me understand what happened to your parents.” Jane shut the side table drawer.
“Are you having any luck?” Jake asked.
“No.”
“Me, neither.”
“Why didn’t you want the autopsy report?”
“Because they are my parents, not a science experiment. I don’t want to read about them getting cut up and looked at.” Jake rolled over and leaned up on his elbow. “I could really love you, you know.”
“Maybe you could, but you don’t yet, so you don’t need to try.” Jane walked over to the highboy dresser and sifted through a stack of papers on top. “How did your mom feel about the businesses closing?”
“She didn’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“All that change at their age? No way. She liked status quo—especially since she had pretty good status. What if the new business venture had failed?”
“But everyone loves Yo-Heaven. Why would it fail?” The stack of papers all seemed to be school-related, soccer meet schedules, class schedules.
“That trendy locavore stuff? Lots of veggies and fruit and yogurt for lots of money? The Roly Burger crowd were not going to like it.”
“What’s going to happen to Roly Burger now?” Jane opened the top drawer of the dresser. Pamela’s underwear. She shifted through the silky garments, all of which she had washed and folded many times.
“I can’t decide.”
“Is it up to you?” Jane found a travel wallet, the kind that hides under the waistband of your clothes, in the underwear drawer. It felt stiff.
“I can’t tell. I keep thinking if I wait long enough everything will go back to normal.” Jake’s voice broke on the word normal.
Jane turned back to him, the wallet in her hand. He was watching her with his big blue eyes. She needed to finish what she was doing before the temptation to go back and let him kiss her overwhelmed her.
He lifted an eyebrow at her.
She looked away. The zipper on the wallet stuck as she tried to open it.
“What is that?” Jake asked.
“Travel wallet. It’s probably got old papers in it.” Jane pulled out a sheet of printer paper and unfolded it to reveal a travel itinerary. The ink was bright and fresh. “Was your mom planning a trip?”
Chapter 16
“I don’t know.” Jake lay back on the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. “I don’t want to think about my parents right now.”
Jane sat on the edge of the bed. “I think you need to start thinking about them.”
“I thought about it last night. For real. It was awful.” Jake’s voice was serious, for the first time since he had come down the stairs without his shirt on the week before. Possibly for the first time since she had met him. There was a weak sound to it, the bravado stripped away.
“Yeah.” Jane patted his knee. “I could tell.” She pulled her hand away and set the itinerary on the bed. “You needed that. You’ll probably do more of it—the grieving, I mean.”
Jake inhaled deeply, his chest rising. Then he sat up. “So what did you find?”
“A travel itinerary in your mom’s wallet waist pouch thingy. You know, the one you hide under your clothes when you travel?”
“I hate those, but mom always made us wear them. Where were they going?”
Jane read the paper, her face puckering. “Your mom and your aunt were going to Switzerland for a month. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“Do they have business in Switzerland? Or family?”
“No.”
“Do they ski? Is there any reason at all for your mom and aunt to go to Switzerland in March?” Jane followed the travel dates with her finger as she read it, trying to figure out exactly how long they were traveling.
“No, they don’t ski. It’s not a mystery Jane. Mom and Marjory like Europe. They go all the time. At least once a year.” Jake leaned over the paper.
Jane was aware of how close he was, but the heated moment had passed. He wasn’t interested in her, not really. He had just been overwrought, and wanted to escape his emotions. And as for her…she looked up from the paper to watch his face. No, she wasn’t interested either. His face was familiar from too many years of school together. She knew him for a player and a jerk. Yes, when he kissed her she had been…moved. But that was all. The moment had passed, for both of them.
“Can we at least ask your aunt about it?” Jane left her finger under the departure information. They were meant to leave early in the morning, the day Pamela had died.
“You can. I wouldn’t though. Aunt Marjory is completely overwhelmed right now. She’s trying to run the business even though it is not her job, and no one is listening to her. She’s on a warpath, and I want to keep out of her way.”
“I kind of thought she had mellowed.”
“Around the house maybe, but I’d watch out. My aunt is under a lot of pressure and she is about ready to blow. Personally, I don’t want to be around when it happens.”
“Can you tell me anything more about what she is trying to accomplish with the business?” Jane stood up again. She wanted to search more of the room while they talked. She hadn’t even touched the closet or the bathroom.
“She wants to follow through with dad’s plans, but she wants to wait until the investigations are over and the estate is settled. I guess the board is trying to get it done immediately instead.”
“Why does she think she has the authority to slow things down?” Jane searched the drawers of the dresser one at a time, but she only found the clothes she expected to find.
“She has a pretty big stake in the company. As big as mom’s was, but not as big as mom and dad’s together. With them gone she thinks she gets to be the decision maker, but it’s still up in the air. The lawyers tell me they aren’t able to make the final call yet.”
“Have you been talking to the lawyers?” Jane opened the closet. The clothes were organized by type and color. No surprise to Jane, as she had organized them. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The closet was small, as the house was built before walk-in closets were in fashion. There was a shelf above the closet rod, lined with boxes. Jane knew they were supposed to be full of hats and shoes that
were stored during their off-seasons. She turned to Jake. He was watching her dig around in his parents’ stuff. Maybe she didn’t need to pull down all of the boxes. “Marjory had a lot to gain by your parents’ deaths. If she killed them, why would she do it the day she was supposed to go on vacation?”
“I don’t think Aunt Marjory killed them. She really loved my parents.”
“But she could have done it. What time was the plane leaving?”
“At 8 am.”
“So your mom and aunt would have had to be there at six, right? Your parents would have expected your aunt to be at the house first thing in the morning, right?” Jane didn’t like where her train of thought was headed, but Marjory, who seemed to have mellowed recently, had both a motive and access to Bob and Pamela.
“No, not at all. I told you, mom and Marjory went to Europe together all of the time. They met at the airport. Marjory always took a taxi and dad always drove mom. If Aunt Marjory had shown up at the house they would have been shocked.”
“Are you sure, Jake? That’s how they always did it?”
“Yes. Always. Two trips a year, at least. Sometimes more, except last year. They only went once last year. This would have been their first trip since dad’s heart attack.”
“But…if she was going to kill them both it wouldn’t really matter how they usually traveled. She still could have come here and done it.”
“If she was going to kill them, why plan a trip?” Jake walked to the master bathroom and began to dig around in the cupboards.
“Alibi? Maybe she did it so we could ask ‘If she was going to kill them, why plan a trip?’” Jane shut the closet door.
“How well do you know my Aunt Marjory?”
“Not at all.” Jane joined Jake in the bathroom. A silver tray on the tile counter held their daily medicines. She picked up a translucent brown bottle and read the label.
“Aunt Marjory is cheap. Yes, she’s rich. Yes, she travels, but she’s cheap. Did you notice they were flying economy? They were taking an early flight? She would not have spent money on tickets if she wasn’t going to take the trip. In my opinion, if she had wanted to kill them she would have planned a trip by herself and after she did the deed she would have taken her flight. That would have been an alibi.”
Jane pondered. It might have been an alibi, or it might have made her look guilty. Hard to say. She didn’t know what questions the police might have asked Marjory. She didn’t know if Marjory’s prints had been found in the bedroom, and not having seen the autopsy report, she didn’t know what the real cause of the deaths had been.
There were several prescriptions on the silver tray. She read each one with care, though she didn’t know what most of them were for.
She put down the bottle she had just read with a huff. She just didn’t know enough to know what to look for. Then she frowned at herself in the mirror. The bottle she had just replaced wasn’t as full as it should have been. The other tall, fat bottles had been, she thought, just a bit heavier. According to the label Pamela had been one month into a three-month supply. She picked it up again. She tilted it side to side. She shook it a little. The pills in the bottle just didn’t seem to go up far enough. Kal Potassium 99.
Jane picked up another bottle about the same size. She read the label—also a three month supply of once-a-day pills. She opened the lids of the two bottles. The second bottle was definitely fuller and the pills were smaller, as well. She shut both bottles and held them up again. The Kal Potassium pills were about two millimeters lower than the other, smaller pills. Where had Pamela’s missing potassium supplements gone?
“Jake, look at this.” She passed the two bottles over.
“Yeah?” Jake turned the bottles around in his hand. “What am I looking at?”
“There aren’t as many potassium pills as there should be, are there?”
Jake sucked a breath through his teeth. “Maybe? I can’t tell.”
“Do they both look normal to you?”
Jake nodded.
“Do you think they would both look normal to the crime scene investigators?”
“Yes. They look the same to me. Plus, this was never a crime scene.” Jake set the bottles on the counter. He turned back to the drawer he had been searching.
“I thought you mentioned there was an ongoing investigation.”
“You’re right. I did say that. There is an open case, I think. Just waiting for the results on the blood work though. That’s what Marjory told me. Do you remember if they had turned the house into a crime scene?”
“I—oh Jake, I’m sorry. I don’t know! I had to leave and when I came back it was two days later and everything seemed normal.”
“I think everyone has been working under the assumption that the deaths were natural.” Jake flipped through a small spiral bound book that he had pulled from a drawer.
Jane stared at the two bottles of pills. “Do you think the deaths were natural?”
“No, I don’t.” Jake slipped the notebook into the back pocket of his jeans. “So, what happened to my mom’s pills?”
“Good question. And what would have happened if, say, she had been given an overdose of those pills?” Jane picked up both bottles.
“Time for Google, Jane?”
“Yes, I’d say it’s time for Google.”
Jane and Jake raced down the stairs to Bob’s office. Jake grabbed a seat in the leather and wood swivel desk chair. Jane leaned over the side and watched as he typed.
Overdose Potassium Chloride pulled up pages of material. They started with Wikipedia.
“Lethal injection?” Jake’s voice was low.
“That’s bad,” Jane whispered. The drug, prescribed for Pamela’s deficiency, was also the acting agent in Dr. Kevorkian’s death machine. “That’s really, really bad. But are enough pills missing to kill her?”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. Let me keep reading.”
“What we want to know though, is are there enough missing to kill both of them?”
“Wait.” Jake held up his hand. “With dad’s heart issues and meds, it would only have taken a little bit to kill him. But I can’t tell how mom would have reacted to an overdose.”
Jane continued to read over his shoulder. “190 grams? It says the lethal dose is 190 grams. These pills are only 99 milligrams each.”
“School me—how many would you have to use to kill someone then?”
“Like, the whole bottle.” Jane’s heart sank. The missing pills were weird, but not lethal.
Jake rocked back in the chair. “I have to say, Jane, I don’t mind that someone didn’t break into the house and kill my parents’ with prescription supplements.”
Jane stroked the top of Jake’s sandy-blond head. “I know. I don’t blame you. Maybe it was just natural deaths.”
“What do you remember from the morning? Anything at all?”
Jane closed her eyes. She remembered Bob’s naked, hairy shoulder. She remembered the thud of his body as the paramedics dropped it on the floor. She remembered the sound of the cell phone, and the paramedics saying, “coroner,” and “bruising.” She could remember the horrible, awful bits.
“Jane? Anything important at all?”
“I don’t know. They had to call a coroner because it wasn’t normal for them both to be so young and dead at the same time. Then there was the paramedic who noticed bruises on your mom’s wrists. Why did your mom have bruises on her wrists?”
“Handcuffs? Leather ropes? What kind of stuff did you find hiding in their closet?”
“Jake. Please.”
“I don’t know. No reason, I guess. I don’t live here. I do now, but I didn’t two weeks ago. It could have been anything.”
Jane rolled her wrists. No, it couldn’t. Wrists don’t get banged up and bruised in everyday life. “The autopsy report wouldn’t say anything about Potassium Chloride until after the blood work comes back, but it would talk about bruising. Could we please get it?”
>
Jake nodded. “I don’t want to, but maybe we’d better do it.”
Chapter 17
Mid-morning Wednesday Jane’s phone jangled. She was having a quick doze after her early morning work. Yesterday’s hunt for clues had turned up nothing further, as Jake had had an emergency social call and didn’t immediately run to get the autopsy report. The call was from Isaac, inviting her out tire shopping. Romantic? Maybe not, but certainly more fun then replacing her spare on her own.
She dug through her closet for something remotely cute to wear. It was a bust. She’d stick with what she already had on and do something with her hair instead. She stared at herself in the mirror. Nope. It was already in a ponytail and there wasn’t much more she could do with her straight hair. Braids, maybe, but she wanted to look young and hip, not young and in grade school.
She added a little lip-gloss to her make-up free face before she left her room. She went straight to the front room, but waiting there for Isaac made her feel desperate. She went into the kitchen. She didn’t want to start cleaning something and make herself look like she didn’t care about his time, but she didn’t want to be waiting by the door either. She checked the coffee pot. It was still half-full so she dug around for a travel mug and filled it up. She thought about pouring it back into the pot and re-enacting the “pour the coffee” moment over and over again until he arrived, but there was a knock on the door, so she didn’t have to.
She ran to answer it.
Isaac stood at the door, a smile on his face, and a small bouquet of daffodils in his hand. “I picked these on the way out. My mom might kill me, but I thought after the day you had, you could use them.”
“Thank you.” Jane took the flowers. She smiled up at Isaac. “Whatever you do, don’t tell your mom you picked them for me! I don’t want her to hate me before we meet.”
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