Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 1

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  The receptionist narrowed her eyes at the girls. “Really? Can you elaborate?”

  Stephanie pushed her way forward. “This!” She shoved the bracelet, wrapped in a handkerchief, through the slot in the bullet proof glass.

  The receptionist lifted a corner of the handkerchief with her pencil point. “What is it?”

  “I found that at our apartment, but it doesn’t belong to any of us.” Stephanie dropped her voice. “Jane is the Swanson’s maid.”

  The receptionist pursed her lips. “Hmm. Why don’t you all take a seat. I’ll get right back with you.”

  They shuffled back to the waiting area. Jane kept her eye trained on the receptionist who made three phone calls in a row.

  “What do you think they are going to do with us?” Stephanie sat on the edge of her seat, her legs shaking.

  “Hopefully, they will get hold of Detective Bryce and interview us.” Jane picked at a scratch on her phone case, but kept an eye on Stephanie.

  “I think you need to let Jane do the talking, Steph.” Gemma spoke low in the reassuring tone Jane had heard her use with her birth doula clients when they called in a panic.

  “But Jane wasn’t the one who found the stuff!” The color drained from Stephanie’s face.

  “Sit back and take a deep breath. Let me get you a glass of water. You are about to have a panic attack.”

  “We don’t need that.” Jane smiled at Stephanie and patted her leg. “I appreciate your help. I am sure we will all get a chance to say what we know.”

  Gemma was getting water when the receptionist called Jane and the girls back to the offices.

  “Detective Bryce is in right now, and would very much like to hear what you have to say.”

  The young detective with the cute dimples was sitting at his desk, looking over a file folder when the receptionist opened the doors. He stood up and held out his hand to Jane. “Good to see you, Jane. What’s up?”

  Jane blushed, all attempts at feeling mature and in-control fleeing. Then she steeled herself for the job at hand. She wanted to lay the whole story in front of him before Stephanie had a chance to talk about the letter or jewelry.

  “Why don’t you all sit down and just start at the beginning.” He indicated the chairs in front of his desk where the bracelet was lying. “So, Jane, why do you think this was related to the death of your boss?” The question, and the smile, were friendly, but there was a hard look in the detective’s eye that made Jane shiver.

  “Okay, so I’ve still been cleaning the house, and I’ve had my eye out for the missing towels and hamper.”

  Detective Bryce lifted an eyebrow. He smiled with just one side of his mouth, dimpling on that one side.

  “I didn’t find them.”

  “No? That’s too bad.”

  “But I did find a funny phone in the guest bedroom.”

  “Go on.”

  “So, thinking I might have stumbled on something important, I turned it on and looked through it.”

  “Of course you did.” Detective Bryce chuckled.

  “It only had one phone number stored on it. It had pictures of Douglas in bed, and it had text messaged to ‘Darcy’ talking about meeting at ‘Pemberly.’”

  “Continue.” Detective Bryce’s face was mildly amused.

  “That’s all. It seemed like code to me. I assume it was his lover’s phone.”

  “What did you do with it?”

  “I left it on the dresser.”

  “To see if it would cause a stir?” His mildly amused smile turned into a mildly irritated frown.

  “Well, yes. I guess so.”

  “Tell me about this.” He lifted the bracelet with the end of his pencil.

  “I found that! I found it in Jane’s cleaning stuff!” Stephanie’s blanched face was animated, her eyes bulging and jaw shaking. She sort of bounced on the edge of her seat like she was very anxious. “And I found this, too, in her bed.” She pulled the crumpled paper out of her pocket and tossed it on the desk.

  Detective Bryce looked at Jane with a lifted eyebrow.

  “That’s why we are here. It looks like someone has been planting evidence on me.” Jane glanced at the gray wall covered in certificates and the metal filing cases that filled the room. Her body went cold, and her head felt light. “Frankly, I’m scared.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stephanie, goggle eyed, shaking her head no.

  Detective Bryce knit his eyebrows together. He looked directly at Stephanie. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Stephanie stopped, her mouth opened in a little o. “Nothing. Just. I mean, the letter, in her pillow. Signed “D” like Darcy or Douglas. I mean…” She glanced at Gemma, who stared at her, red faced.

  “I’m glad you brought this here.” He pulled the letter toward himself with a pencil. “I can have it dusted for fingerprints.

  Jane shook her head. “I’ve read that letter. I found it in the pillow, so my fingerprints are on it.”

  “Then we will expect to see yours and… What’s your name?”

  “Stephanie Frances.”

  “We’ll expect to see prints from both Stephanie and Jane. But we’ll see what else we can find. On the bracelet as well. If I am correct, this bracelet was reported stolen not long ago.”

  Stephanie slumped back in her chair.

  “Is there anything else?” He looked at each girl, one by one.

  Gemma shook her head, and Stephanie chewed her bottom lip.

  “That’s it, sir. I just thought you should know.” Jane sat on the edge of her seat with her hands pressing down hard on her knees.

  Detective Bryce dimpled a little. “I don’t like that these showed up in your apartment. I would like to send some officers over to take a look around.”

  “Oh!” Stephanie sat up.

  “That would be so great,” Gemma said. “I was a little bit thinking about staying at my parents’ for a few nights.”

  “I’ll have someone come by and check it out, and you guys need to have the landlord change your locks. And Jane, I strongly encourage you to stay away from the Swanson house.”

  “What if I only go when Amy is there?”

  “Amy the daughter?”

  “Yeah. She’s very nice. If I keep popping in to clean like normal, but I always make sure she is there… that can’t be bad, can it?”

  Detective Bryce looked at the bracelet. “No. Don’t do it.”

  Gemma leaned forward. “Where was the bracelet stolen from?”

  “Joseph Dillon Jewelers.”

  “Caramel’s brother Joe?” Jane leaned forward to look at it more closely. “Does this match the ring that Caramel lost?”

  “I should say that that’s privileged information.” Detective Bryce chuckled again. “But it’s not. It’s even been in the news. Someone claiming to be Caramel’s maid picked up a bracelet matching this description from the jewelry store where the missing ring was purchased. When Caramel came by to get it, they realized their mistake. But yes, both Caramel and the jeweler say they were part of the same design line.”

  “They said it was the maid?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. You don’t match the description at all.”

  “But the ring Caramel thought I stole was shoved down Douglas’s throat.” Jane shuddered. “So someone really did plant this on me to make me look like the murderer.”

  “You’re not a suspect, Jane.”

  Jane tried to acknowledge him, but tears sprung to her eyes.

  “Thanks for bringing all of this in.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’re getting very close to solving this one, I think. But please, by all means, keep your phone on all the time—all three of you—and the next time anything like this happens, call 911 immediately.”

  Stephanie gasped.

  “I don’t mean to scare you, but until we’ve got the killer behind bars, I don’t want you taking any risks.” He stood up and walked to the door.

  Their interview was over.


  “From the looks of this, I’m thinking the person we are looking for is looking for a little attention right now.” He cleared his throat. “That’s a good thing for me, but it makes me nervous for you.”

  Jane patted her pocket. “I’ll have my phone with me and turned on at all times.”

  “Good girl.”

  Chapter 22

  “Should we drop by the jewelry store?” Jane asked before they all shut their car doors.

  Stephanie’s eyes went wide.

  “I don’t think so, Jane. You’ve never been there. You wouldn’t want to show up now and get your DNA on stuff,” Gemma said.

  Jane fingered her stitches again. “No. I had better not.”

  Gemma started her car. “Whatever you do, be careful! We’ll be home about five, and we’ll stick around. Let’s try to not leave each other alone, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” Jane sat in her car for a moment longer. Go back to the Swanson’s house now or…? She didn’t have a second option in mind, so she drove back to the Swanson’s house.

  She had almost reached the house when her phone rang. It was Kaitlyn.

  “We need you at Bean Me Up Scotty’s in ten minutes. This is the make-it or break-it meeting. Did you forget?”

  Jane stared at her phone. “Forget? Was I ever told in the first place?”

  “I texted. Valerie texted. Paula emailed. Something big is up with the funding. Paula called the meeting. I suggested Bean Me Up Scotty’s—for Valerie’s sake—good move, right?”

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them. “Good move?” Jane pictured the coffee shop and came up with the barista with the glasses. “Yes, of course. Good move. But… I missed it all. Emails, texts. I saw nothing.”

  “I’m sure we sent them to you… Why wouldn’t we have?” Kaitlyn’s voice was leaning toward a whine. “Paula started it. She has big news about the mission mentoring and funding program, but she wouldn’t let us know what it is.”

  Jane took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. From where she had pulled over, she could see the Swanson house. Caramel’s Mini Cooper was pulling out of the driveway. “I’ve got ten minutes?”

  “Yes! You can make it, right?”

  Jane chewed on her lip. She inched forward. Follow Caramel, or pin Amy down for a long talk?

  “You can make it, right? Our outreach is massively on the line here. If we want to shine a light for bullied kids, we need to represent.”

  The front door of the Swanson house opened.

  A head peeked out.

  A blonde head.

  Jane inched her car a little closer, but before she could get close enough to identify the woman, the door shut again.

  “I’ll be there!” Jane said. “But I’ve got to go!” She hung up before Kaitlyn could say anything else.

  Had the owner of the phone come back for it?

  Jane drove around the block and parked behind the Swanson property.

  The house in back was dark, so Jane ran down the side driveway and didn’t worry about being seen. She hopped their back fence into the wooded area that separated the properties from each other.

  The stranger in the house could be a friend of Caramel’s or Amy’s as easily as not. She pushed her way through the brambles. She needed to find a spot where she could hide and still see into the huge back windows.

  She hiked as close to the Swanson house as she could, but her angle and the angle of the sun were all wrong. The light glinted off the wall of windows, and she could see nothing. She pushed a little closer, hoping to snatch a view through the side windows.

  Someone was moving around in the guest bedroom, but she couldn’t make out much more than the silhouette. She took a few pictures, and then backed further into the woods so that she wouldn’t be seen. She stopped when the masses of trees hid the house from her sight, and emailed herself the pictures she had taken.

  She pushed through the woods and found herself, not in the back by her car but at the neighbor’s pool house. The lights were out, but the door was ajar.

  Jane stuffed her phone in her pocket, and slunk over to the door. From her limited experience in the neighborhood, she was pretty sure the folks who lived on this property were at work all day.

  She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. She knew the laundry hamper was in the pool house—knew it like she knew the Beatitudes.

  Or that it had been in the pool house.

  The police had searched the Swanson property from top to bottom, and this was the only building near enough to run to in the short time the killer had had.

  The little pool house was dark inside. Jane left the lights off.

  The building was one large room with two doors on the side. The floor was tiled in dark gray stone. The windows were all covered with airy, cheesecloth-like curtains. One wall had a small kitchen, and the center of the room was furnished with wicker that looked worn around the edges. Jane bent down and looked under the wicker couch where she found a pair of flip flops and a tank top. She tried to put them back in the same position she had found them in.

  Jane opened the cupboard doors with a paper towel so she wouldn’t leave her prints on the brushed nickel hardware.

  The garbage can had recently used paper plates in it, but none of the cupboards were hiding the missing hamper.

  Jane opened the first door with the same paper towel and found the closet. A duffel bag was squished inside. Jane dug through it. Pajamas. Underclothes. A toothbrush.

  Was someone sleeping here? The sofa was loveseat sized, so if they were sleeping in the pool house, they weren’t very comfortable.

  Jane checked the bathroom next. Sink, mirror, toilet, shower. Nothing unexpected in a pool house. Except the sink was grimy, like someone had been spitting toothpaste into it.

  If the neighbors had a guest in their pool house, it wasn’t very likely that the murderer had run there to hide the dirty laundry.

  Jane left the door ajar behind her, as it was when she went in. If the killer hadn’t hidden the evidence in the pool house, where had she hid it? Jane flipped her phone over and over in her hand while she tried to think up options.

  “Excuse me?”

  Jane dropped her phone. “I’m sorry!” Standing right behind Jane was a petite, blonde woman in a sarong and swimming suit.

  “What are you doing back here?” Her face was red from a fading sunburn, and her eyes were hidden behind huge, round sunglasses.

  “I’m so sorry!” Jane stepped away from the pool house. She chose not to answer the question, to see what kind of question the lady would ask next.

  “Why are you back here?” she repeated.

  The woman stood between Jane and the woods. Had she come from the Swansons’ house or this one?

  “I was peeking in the house.” Jane tried a little, innocent smile. “It’s so cute.”

  The woman in the swimsuit’s back stiffened. “You went inside?” Her words were sharp.

  “Yes.” The truth slipped out before Jane could decide if it was the safest choice.

  The woman’s jaw tensed. “Have you done this before?”

  “No.” Jane shook her head. “I spotted the house one other time, and peeked in the windows. But I’ve never been inside before.”

  “Why on EARTH would you go into my house?” The woman’s voice was icy. She stepped forward, one long finger pointing at Jane.

  “I am so sorry. It was such a jerky thing to do.” Jane stepped backwards, too. Waves of shame rolled over her, making her face hot like a lamp.

  “Yes, it was.” The woman said. “I am sick and tired of everyone on earth thinking my backyard is theirs. Do you know how many people keep sneaking around back here?”

  Jane stopped backing away. “The police, you mean? Because of Douglas?”

  “I wish it were just the police. But every rubbernecker in town had been through these woods, and half of them stop at my pool house.”

 
“Have you caught people inside before?”

  “Not inside, but it was only a matter of time.”

  “Have you seen anyone really suspicious?” Jane tapped her foot, excited.

  “Why do you want to know?” The woman narrowed her eyes.

  “I-uh.” Jane picked up her phone. “I guess I’m just a rubbernecker. I’ll go.”

  “Do that, and don’t come back.”

  Jane took a few slow steps toward the woods. “Have you called the police about the trespassing?”

  The woman glared at Jane. “Yes. And I’ll do it again, if you don’t get off of my property.”

  Jane waved. “Again, I’m so sorry!” She ran through the woods trying to stick to the trail she had taken the first time. She had nabbed one more picture before she left. There was always a chance the woman in the swimming suit was the same woman who had peeked her head out of the Swansons’ front door.

  Jane headed home so she could try and make something out of her pictures, but on the way, she remembered her urgent meeting at the coffee shop. She was already twenty minutes late.

  She switched gears and headed to the coffee shop. But she questioned her choice. Paula wasn’t going to give her any money, which didn’t matter anyway, since she didn’t have anywhere to go. So why interrupt her current mission to listen in on Kaitlyn and Valerie’s meeting? The only reason she could think of was commitment. She had made a commitment, so she went to the meeting.

  She parked next to Kaitlyn’s car and joined her team.

  “Jane!” Kaitlyn grabbed Jane’s hand and squeezed it. The Pogs were piled on the table in front of her. “Where have you been?”

  Paula folded her hands in front of her on the table, but her face was relaxed. Valerie checked her watch.

  “I was looking for clues to the murder.” Jane pulled out a chair and sat down. “Things got very complicated this morning, and I had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “No matter. I’m glad you are here now. I won’t go back over everything we’ve covered, but there are two important things for you to know,” Paula said.

  Jane held her pen at the ready.

  “The annual Columbia River Community Church budget preview has been released to all departments of the church, and the missions’ budget will not be increased for the coming fiscal year.”