The Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 2

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “Yes, I can get there. I’ve been by before.” Jane’s heart thumped, but she might as well admit it now. Maggie could easily recognize her.

  “Fine.” Back to single words again. “I work from eight to three tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Jane would have said more, but Maggie hung up. Jane set her phone on the counter. “I was able to save the situation, but please don’t do that again.” She didn’t make eye contact with Jake. She didn’t trust herself not to smack him if she did.

  “You didn’t hear what she was saying about you. She’s kind of a monster.” Jake slipped the lock of hair that Jane was still toying with from her finger to his. “A real spoiled brat.”

  “You don’t have any idea what she is going through.” Jane clenched her jaw. “She is in a time of extreme acute stress right now.”

  “Okay.” He let the hair slip from his fingers and held two hands up. “I’m sorry.”

  Jane scrunched her mouth. Sure, he was sorry now. And sincere. But she was still mad about it. The mad didn’t just go away because he was sorry. He had totally trampled on her professionally, and almost destroyed her investigation.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  Jane let herself glance his direction as he walked out. She wasn’t the only one clenching her jaw. It would appear that Jake thought chewing out Persons of Interest was part of taking care of her. This was definitely a check on the “con” side of the pro-cons list for getting married sooner rather than later.

  Jane made it to Nonessential Trivia at two minutes to eight. A few scruffy college types were there as well. She ordered a toasted bagel and a flat white coffee, took a seat at the front bar, and waited for Maggie to have a moment for her. She hoped to be sympathetic enough this morning to fully make up for Jake’s phone tirade. And she hoped against hope that the invoices and contact information Maggie had for her were not fakes and forgeries.

  Jane’s smooth, sweet Australian-style coffee was half gone before Maggie joined her.

  “Jane?” Maggie’s eyes were deeply shaded, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, but her clothes were crisp and clean. She looked ragged, but not conquered.

  “Yes.” Jane held out the laminated business card she had used at the coffee shop. Eventually she’d have to have something more...legitimate…to prove she was allowed to ask questions. “I’m Jane Adler, working for the SCoRI investigation office.”

  Maggie held out a manila envelope. “I apologized to my mom for not keeping her up with the wedding changes. She wasn’t paying for anything, so I hadn’t really kept her in the loop.”

  Jane gripped the fat envelope.

  “Plus, the other caterer and the cake lady were her contacts. Friends of friends or something. I felt guilty about ditching them. But that’s all of the receipts and stuff. Copies, I mean. I kept the originals.”

  Jane tapped the brad that closed the envelope. “I think I’ll look over them while I finish my coffee. That way, if there is anything I need to know, I can just ask.”

  Maggie looked over her shoulder. “Okay.” She headed up to the computer café area, wielding a small lamb’s wool duster. She glanced back at the front door of the café often, but no crowds had gathered to lynch her.

  Jane opened the envelope and pulled out the invoices one by one. The florist information matched what she had. The community college catering documents were thorough, though they were just Excel docs, so they could also have been fake. In addition, Maggie had given her the room rental, tuxedo order, a receipt for a large number of jewelry items—perhaps gifts for the bridal party. Information about a photographer and videographer and DJ were included, but no receipts. Jane would have to call them and find out what their payment policy usually looked like. She was surprised to find a receipt labeled “premarital counseling” and, of course, the information about the civil wedding they had already had. She felt a little of her old confidence coming back.

  If she handed this over to Cascadia Surety, she was fairly certain Maggie would get her insurance money.

  Too bad she couldn’t get her husband as well.

  Jane slid the information back into the envelope and Googled Maggie Frances/MotherofBridezilla on her phone.

  Things had heated up overnight.

  There were now two pages of search results with her home address, phone number, place of work, and family names all listed. The comments on the first two links were mostly game enthusiasts planning different ways to destroy Maggie’s life.

  The most creative threat involve red gelatin and the cars of everyone who Maggie had ever met.

  The most terrifying was the detailed plans to break into her house at night and slit her throat.

  Jane closed Google with a shaking hand.

  Slit her throat? Over the review of a crowd funded gaming device that merely used her game in the test?

  And she hadn’t even written the review.

  Jane attempted to take the last sip of her coffee, but she spilled it on her shirt instead. She grabbed a napkin and blotted at it. If the game device review was so very wrong, why was the hate all directed at Maggie? Why wasn’t Kyle getting any of the attention?

  Maybe because he had disappeared?

  Or had he disappeared because the angry mob had already taken care of him?

  Jane went back online. She searched through pages and pages of Google results, but found very little hate against Kyle. In fact, she found at least three strongly worded cases in his defense, calling him the victim of a gaming seductress, someone who preyed on men to further her own interests. The comments to these posts reflected the rest of the drama. More ways to punish Maggie.

  It looked highly unlikely that anyone involved in the review drama had been responsible for the disappearance of Kyle Fish.

  But what about the death of the guy who created the device? Had anyone known he was in the Frances-Fish wedding? Had they been angry about the review’s display of old-boys-club cronyism? She searched for Devon Grosse. Local news stories about finding his body. Other reviews of his device. The blog updating his crowd funding and development. No strong emotion of any kind.

  So the angry mob against Maggie, the disappearance of her husband, and the murder of their mutual friend were completely unrelated?

  Impossible.

  Jane pocketed her phone, laid some money on the counter for her breakfast and a tip, and left. SCoRI might not have been hired to crack this nut, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

  Chapter 6

  Jane’s home cooking had never been a reason to write home, so she decided to lure Gemma and Grant to a private tête–à–tête with Thai carry out.

  It worked.

  She also invited Jake because it would have been weird not too, but she was still pretty mad about last night’s scene with Maggie.

  Grant scooped a forkful of coconut curry. He grinned “I know a bribe when I taste one. What do you need?”

  Jane sipped her Coke. “I need to bounce my thoughts off of an expert.”

  “Flora and Rocky are experts in private detection. I’m just a copper”

  Jane set her glass down. “Flora and Rocky are doing a great job of leading me on the insurance case.”

  “But?”

  “But behind the case of insurance fraud is something far more interesting, and I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

  “About the Grosse murder?”

  “And the disappearing Fish.”

  “What delightful dinner conversation.” Gemma dipped a salad roll into a cup of peanut sauce and frowned. “Can we maybe discuss gross fish after we eat?”

  Grant patted her hand. “This is the life of a copper, my dear. You’ll have to come to terms with it at some point.”

  Gemma scrunched her mouth. “Phooey.”

  “And the online bullying,” Jane said. “They’re all connected, I’m sure. But I can’t figure out how. Devon designed a game device. Maggie programmed a game. Kyle reviewed the device using
the game and then married Maggie. Devon was going to be their best man. On the internet, great hordes of people have planned many elaborate ways to kill Maggie, including one chilling plan to sneak into her home at night and slit her throat. But nobody has a word to say against Kyle or Devon.” She sipped her Coke again, to calm herself. The throat-slitting threats still sent shivers of pure fear up her spine. “And yet, Devon is the one dead and Kyle is missing.”

  “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?”

&n
bsp; 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?”