The Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 2

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “Should I give the information I gathered to the police?”

  “Jane,” Flora’s tone was very teacher-y. “You didn’t really gather any information.”

  “There were the mystery numbers.”

  “I’m sure the police have already been over his apartment.”

  “What about the guy that we followed? The one who has been impersonating SCoRI?”

  This time Flora’s frown was legit.

  Jane braced herself, afraid that when Flora opened her mouth the roar would send her flying into the stack of boxes behind her chair.

  “I’ll discuss the matter with Rocky. Just leave it with us, for now.”

  For now?

  Those were the two most hopeful words Jane had heard all week.

  Jane liked the words, “for now” and was willing to leave the PI-impersonator-situation in Flora’s and Rocky’s capable hands for exactly that long. So she spent her day confirming and reconfirming wedding details, and leaving messages for Maggie.

  Clouds had rolled in as she drove home, soaking the world in a gray drizzle, but it wasn’t late enough for the big lights in the parking lot to have come on.

  She shivered both with chill and nerves as she mounted the steps to her apartment door.

  “Ahem.” A hoarse, throat clearing, almost at her ear.

  Jane spun, putting her back to her front door.

  The black-haired, glasses-wearing, fake detective was inches from her, his brow furrowed. “I suggest you keep your distance from the Fish family.”

  Jane tightened her grip on her door key. “Why?” Her word came out like a pop, surprising her with its strength and volume.

  Black-haired guy backed up half a step.

  “Because this is murder, and you are not ready for it.”

  Jane squared her shoulders. “No? Ask Matt Swanson if I’m ready. He was sentenced for murder just last month.”

  He glanced behind him as though he thought the patricidal son of her old, now dead, client was behind him.

  “Or Finch, who is currently serving time for manslaughter.” Jane took a step forward. “Do you want me to go on?” She lifted her eyebrow.

  He cleared his throat again.

  She sized him up. No jacket that he could be hiding things in, no bulging pockets indicating a gun. He trembled slightly, but his face looked angry.

  “Let’s get out of here. Meet me at my office.” She gave the address to the Senior Corps of Retired Investigators. She knew Flora and Rocky were staying late tonight, and she wouldn’t be alone there.

  He looked over his shoulder again. “Yeah. Okay.” He didn’t indicate that he recognized the address he had pretended to belong to.

  Jane waited for him to go to his own car. She thought about changing her mind and locking herself in her apartment rather than leading him to SCoRI, but that wouldn’t have helped anything in the long run.

  As soon as he started up the Honda that she recognized from the chase, she went to her own car and drove to the office.

  Rocky was at the reception desk going over a calendar with Miranda.

  “Hey there, kiddo.” He greeted her with a friendly gleam in his eye. “Looks like you did good work with your notes.”

  “Thanks.” Jane tilted her head to indicate the man standing to her left. “Do you and Flora have a few minutes? It’s important.”

  The man was edging back toward the door.

  “Sure.” Rocky held out his big, rough hand. “Rocky Wilson, good to meet you.”

  Jane put herself behind her new associate and the exit, so he couldn’t escape. He glanced at the door with longing, but followed Rocky to the office.

  Flora’s glasses were low on her nose, and her short white hair looked like a windstorm had swept through. She scratched her temple and muttered something, but didn’t look up.

  “Darlin’, Jane has a problem, I think.”

  The “problem” scowled.

  Flora looked up and returned his scowl with her own. “I assume it’s urgent?”

  “So do I.” Rocky took a seat and crossed his arms behind his head. “What’s up?”

  “You may recall from my notes that I had a brief interaction with a man in a gray Honda.”

  Flora locked her eyes on the black-haired man.

  “This gentleman is he. And, he fits the description of the person pretending to be a SCoRI investigator. He also appeared to be eavesdropping on my conversation with a contact on my case. In addition—”

  “I match your description of what?” the man asked.

  Flora took out her phone and snapped a picture. Then she turned her attention from them to her phone.

  “What’s your name, son?” Rocky asked.

  “I don’t believe it is in my best interest to share that at this time.” He crossed his arms.

  “Why were you eavesdropping on our girl here?”

  “I was not.”

  “They why did you speed away and not help us with our flat tire?” Jane .

  “You chased me, and your tire wasn’t flat.”

  “You didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Jane wanted to smack the smug look off of his lips. “Why are you harassing Maggie? Are you a gamer or something?”

  “Am I a male in my twenties? Yes. I have played video games.”

  “That’s what I thought. Why are you all such jerks to girls?” Jane’s heart was racing. This wasn’t the question she meant to ask, but it was at the heart of the matter, in the long run.

  “If they can’t take the heat, they can stay out of the kitchen.” He uncrossed his arms, and flexed his fingers, like he wanted to start swinging punches. “It’s not like we’re nice to each other.”

  “But what did Maggie do, exactly? She created a game.”

  “Maggie who?” He crossed his arms again, but his eyes darted from Jane to Flora.

  “So you’re going to be that way then?” Jane hissed.

  “Now, now. Let’s be reasonable.” Rocky chuckled.

  “Brad Carter.” Flora looked up, a tired smile on her face.

  Brad swung his face to her.

  “Facial recognition is my favorite little internet tool.” She stood up and waved at her threadbare velvet armchairs. “Both of you sit, and both of you be quiet.”

  Jane sat on the one right behind her.

  Fake-detective Brad stared at the chair nearest him, stacked with boxes.

  “Just move those,” Flora said.

  He did, and then sat.

  “Brad here is a journalist, of sorts, for an online news outlet of some kind. He has a YouTube channel and many articles to his name. I assume he was listening in because murder is a big story. And maybe he drew our name out of a hat to contact Maggie about her troubles as well.” Flora sat back down.

  “That so?” Rocky asked.

  “No.” Brad craned his neck to see the exit door around Rocky. The color was draining from his tan face, leaving him ashen.

  “You are a journalist and you seem to write exclusively for Marjoram Thymes.”

  “That’s a satire site,” Jane said. “And not a very funny one.”

  Brad took a loud breath through his nose.

  “So what was your angle?” Flora asked. “Harassing Maggie Frances about being stood at the altar for humor or about the game thing for humor?”

  “Who is Maggie?” Brad’s voice cracked.

  “That’s enough,” Rocky said. “We’re not playing games here. We run a nice little non-profit private agency for retired detectives. A place we can all come and do a little snooping now and again. It keeps us out of trouble. You call a girl like Maggie and get her upset, she calls the cops and gets a restraining order, and we lose our fun. So why did you do it?”

  He gritted his teeth so hard Jane could hear it.

  She licked her lips and tried not to stare at him.

  “I don’t want to write for Marjoram Thymes forever. It isn’t very funny. One knock-out articl
e. One big hook, and I could make it. I could get anyone to publish the right story. Something hot, new, funny, horrible. All of that in one? A girl that the gaming community hates is stood up at the altar. Or was she defrauding the credit card company. Or her insurance. Maybe she’s addicted to crime. I could do something with that, couldn’t I?”

  Flora leaned forward. “You’re a jerk.”

  He sat back in his chair and sneered. “I’m a satirist.”

  “So you were in this for the laughs, and you decided to use our name…why?”

  Brad shrugged.

  “I don’t think that’s all there is to this,” Jane said softly.

  He turned to face her, eyes narrowed.

  “If he’s merely trying to write a satirical article about this situation, why wouldn’t he have hit Ayla and me up when he had the chance? He was after a scoop, why didn’t he take the tire off our car and chat us up? If nothing else, he’d have the fun of getting to write about how he had trolled us.” Jane squinted and looked him up and down. “He left as though he were scared. From the coffee shop, and from the side of the road.”

  A thin sheen of sweat popped out on Brad’s forehead. “You didn’t make it very easy for me to help you, what with getting arrested.”

  “We did not get arrested.” Jane sat on the edge of her seat, a fire of indignation in her breast.

  “Tased. Sorry.”

  Flora rocked back in her chair. “Maybe he’s just a bad journalist. He was in over his head. He got himself writing something he thought was hilarious, and then heard about the murder.”

  The thin sheen of sweat on Brad’s face turned into droplets.

  Rocky leaned forward, his brows arched with fatherly concern. “Brad, you don’t have to be scared in here. Even if you have made a real hash of this, we can help you.” He nodded his head slowly, encouraging Brad to believe in him. “What did you see?”

  Brad’s jaw flexed. He fixed his eyes on the wall behind Flora and didn’t say anything.

  Jane prayed.

  Flora turned back to her phone.

  Rocky kept his gaze calm, and concerned.

  Brad’s breathing sped up. He opened his mouth and then shut it.

  The wall clock ticked.

  “Excuse me,” Miranda popped her head in, her loud, cheerful voice breaking the silence like a car horn. “I just got a call for a Brad Carter. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

  Brad jumped to his feet. He pushed past Rocky and Miranda. Rocky followed him out.

  His footsteps echoed through the empty hall, and the bell on the front door jingled.

  Miranda lifted an eyebrow. “So that wasn’t him?”

  Jane closed her eyes.

  “Yes,” Flora said. “That was him.”

  “Oh.” Miranda drummed her fingers on the door jamb. “I guess I’ll just tell them he left.”

  “Wait!” Jane stood up. “Let me take the call.”

  “No way.” Flora clicked a button on her desk phone and picked up the receiver. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Brad just stepped out. May I take a message?”

  “Sure.”

  Jane chewed her lip. Flora’s face was giving nothing away.

  “How do you spell that? B-R-E-N-N-A? And Frances like the country or Francis-with-an-I?”

  Jane leaned forward. Brenna Frances? Maggie’s paranoid sister?

  “Okay, Brenna, if I see him again, I will let him know you called. What’s that? No, he doesn’t work for us. I’m sorry. How did you get that impression?” Long pause. “He did? Goodness, I’m sorry.” Short pause. “Okay. Let us know if we can help with anything else.” Flora hung up.

  Rocky came back and slumped into his seat, arms folded, a frown firmly in place.

  “How did Brenna trace him here? How did she find out his name?”

  “He called her again, with more questions from the credit card company. She threw the phone number he called her from into the Tumblr search bar and found the account for Brad Carter.”

  “But how did she manage to catch him while he was here?”

  Flora pulled the vinyl blind from her window a crack and looked outside. “Maybe she’s been following him.”

  “How could she get enough information from Tumblr to follow him?”

  “It could have been dumb luck. That happens sometimes,” Rocky said.

  “More often than we like to admit.”

  “I’m going to go see her tomorrow.” Jane also peeked outside.

  “Oh, are you?” Flora sounded slightly impressed. Like she hadn’t expected a spurt of go-get-um from Jane.

  “And I’ll bring her here. And we will all find out what she knows, and how she knows it.” Jane got up and went to the door.

  “Have her here by eleven, then,” Rocky said. “I need to take Miranda to the coffee shop for a little talk.”

  “That sounds good to me. Get Brenna Frances here by eleven tomorrow morning. It will make up for the way Rocky let Brad get away.”

  “Now wait a second. I can’t just grab him and drag him back in here, can I?” Rocky said.

  “Apparently not.” There was a glimmer in Flora’s eye that made Jane think Rocky wouldn’t mind the teasing so very much.

  Jane left, letting the thrill of the chase kill the little seedling of worry that maybe Brenna had other things to do tomorrow at eleven.

  Chapter 11

  By nine thirty the next morning, Jane still wasn’t sure how she was going to get Brenna to the SCoRI office.

  She had taken care of her morning cleaning client, and then transformed herself from apron-clad maid to intern-detective with a quick wardrobe change. But she had experienced a significant system-failure in the imagination department.

  Time was short, so she turned to Facebook. After a half an hour, she realized that had only made time shorter.

  She closed her computer, traded her mall-quality menswear inspired clothes back for her jeans and apron and drove to the Frances’ house. She knew one way to solve a crime, and she was going to have to do it.

  Brenna came to the door when Jane knocked. First she craned her neck to look up and down the street behind Jane, then she grabbed Jane by the elbow and pulled her inside. “What do you want?” She eyed the cleaning caddy.

  “I want to help.” Jane set the caddy down. “I’ve got an hour, and you all have a crisis. Can I help in any way around the house?”

  “No.” Brenna gritted her teeth. “As it is, I have to stop Mom from doing it. She could easily destroy whatever clues Maggie has left lying around.”

  “Are you completely sure?”

  “Yes.” Brenna eyed the window in the door. “Were you followed?”

  “I don’t know, but it didn’t seem like it.”

  Brenna took a deep breath through her nose.

  “If I can’t help you here with house stuff, I can help with the investigation.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yes. Definitely. But you need to come with me, down to the SCoRI office.”

  Brenna scratched her chin. She took a step back and looked Jane up and down.

  “You know where they are, I think. You followed Brad there last night. From my place to SCoRI.”

  Brenna tilted her head.

  “But how did you find him to start following him in the first place?”

  Brenna shook her head. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Come with me, I’ll treat for coffee and donuts. The Wilsons with their thirty years investigation experience will get to the bottom of the trouble. It won’t hurt anything, and it will help everything.”

  Brenna stuck her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, her shoulders hunched like she wanted to hide. “What do they want from me?’

  “The information you’ve been gathering. You have tons of it, and if they knew what it was, they could piece it together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Really?” Jane grinned. “You will?”

  Brenna chewed her lip. “Yeah. Ju
st let me gather it up.” She left Jane in the vestibule for what felt like forever. When she came back, she had two plastic file crates stacked full of papers and objects.

  Jane recognized a water glass like the one she had been given to capture her own fingerprints.

  “Let’s go.” Brenna’s hands shook, rattling the crates, whether from nerves or their weight, Jane wasn’t sure.

  It was a risk, but Brenna didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would want to hop in a stranger’s car, so Jane waited for her to load up and then led their miniature caravan to Oregon City and the waiting detectives.

  Brenna did not let Jane help carry her evidence into the office, but she did set it on Flora’s desk. She pulled one of the avocado colored velvet chairs away from the wall, but didn’t sit.

  The cardboard boxes had been somewhat tamed, mostly stacked like a shaky wall behind Flora, but six or so still lined the back of the room. Jane pulled up the other chair and sat down. “Flora, this is Brenna Frances, the sister-in-law of the missing man, the girl who called last night about Brad, and a pretty bright character who has collected a lot of data on the situation. I know it’s not directly related to the fraud case…”

  “There was never any fraud. I am so sick of hearing people talk about fraud. My sister and Kyle have been in love forever.” Brenna spit the words out. She gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles white.

  “So what have you brought with you today?” Flora asked, her voice had an edge to it.

  Jane bit her lip. She missed Rocky’s calming influence. She doubted that Flora could get Brenna to relax enough to share what she knew.

  Brenna inhaled a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

  “You called us last night for information about Brad Carter, but we don’t have any. In fact, Jane had just brought him to the office to get some from him.”

  “I assumed he had come here to report.” Brenna’s voice cracked.

  “That’s okay,” Flora said. “It was a logical inference. We think he was being honest about his angle. He claimed he was trying to break the case to make his name in journalism.”

  “Jerk.” Brenna grimaced.

  “But possibly an honest jerk. We also think he saw something along the way that scared him.”

  “At my apartment he tried to warn me away from dealing with murder.”