Jane spent the bulk of two hours listening to Ayla. The two gems she got from it—Brenna’s ability to spot someone writing as more than one person, and further support for the idea that Kyle and Devon might have been at odds at the time of the wedding were worth the effort. Before she left the microbrewery/internet café, she cornered Maggie.
“How are you holding up?”
Maggie didn’t look as though she recognized Jane.
“I’m the one you met talking about the insurance policy.”
Maggie eyebrows pulled together as though she still didn’t recognize her, but also didn’t care.
“Do you have any time in the next day or two to get together and talk?”
“About insurance?” Maggie’s brow clouded, as though she was honestly confused.
“About Kyle.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe tomorrow? Sometime when your sister could be there, too?”
“For the insurance thing?”
“I’m still working with the Senior Corps of Retired Investigators. Now that we have your insurance case resolved—you should be getting your payout as soon as possible—we wanted to help with the other issue.”
“I can’t pay you.”
“That’s okay.” Jane wasn’t actually sure that Maggie would be getting her insurance payout, or that it was okay that they wouldn’t be paid. But, it felt like the right thing to say. Yet again, skirting around the truth, the pet sin of the aspiring detective. She wanted to get her new mentors advice on how to reconcile the constant need to lie with the definite need to be Christlike as soon as she could. Maggie was staring at her.
“We know the cops are looking into all of it, but we also know that young adult males who go missing don’t tend to be a top priority for the cops. Not saying they don’t care, but if there’s no real sign of violence…anyway. We think there’s more to it and want to serve you, if we can.” She wanted to, anyway, and if the Queen could use the royal “we”…
“Tomorrow? I’m free until one.”
“May I come to your house?”
Maggie nodded.
A customer sidled up to the long wooden bar.
Maggie turned to the customer. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m still looking.” He offered a friendly smile. Maggie was young and pretty and probably got plenty of friendly smiles from customers.
“Will Brenna be around if I show up at around ten?”
“Brenna is always around.” Maggie took a little white notebook out of her apron pocket.
Jane wanted to go over her notes with Flora and Rocky, but they were booked until evening. And when she got there, Rocky was still gone, tying up last minute loose ends with their other client.
“Do you have a moment to run over what I’ve learned so far? I have an interview set up for tomorrow, and I’d love to work on ways to direct the conversation,” Jane asked Flora.
Flora looked up from the pile of papers she was going over at Miranda’s reception desk. “Give us ten more minutes, then absolutely.” She yawned. It was just shy of nine o’ clock. Flora had put in a long day at her semi-retired, non-profit job.
Jane sat on the metal and pleather waiting room chair and went over her notes. Some were mental notes and some were in a little notebook.
Her phone rang.
“Listen, I am so sorry to bother you. I know you are working, but I need a favor.” It was Jake.
“Yes, of course, any time.”
“I was worried about something when I called earlier, but you seemed sort of out of it, and I didn’t want to bother you. But I needed to, because I just cannot get away from here yet.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Jane slipped her notebook back into her purse.
“It’s Phoebe.” Jake’s little sister. Smart, beautiful, athletic and also bipolar. She took good care of herself, but it was a disease and sometimes it got the better of her.
“Oh no, is she all right?”
“She’s at the hospital. She called me this morning, but I couldn’t really make heads or tails of what she said. Just that the police brought her in. Will you go? Can you go? Down at Good Sam. Can you go find out how she is? Find out exactly what happened and what charges they are going to press.”
“Charges? Oh no!”
“I would give my left hand to be there right now.” Jake’s voice broke. Since the deaths of his parents, he had really manned up to take care of the family—from stepping away from running the family business when he realized he wasn’t any good at it, to keeping house and home together for his sister while she finished college.
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you. I love you more than words can say.”
Because Miranda and Flora were now staring at her, she kept her own goodbye short and sweet. “Love you, too. I will call as soon as I have some answers.”
“Going so soon?” Miranda asked.
“Miranda, be nice.” Flora gave her a disapproving look. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ve got to run. My fiancé’s sister is in some trouble, I think.”
“Do you need someone to come with you?” Flora already had her slouchy upholstered purse over her shoulder.
“No, thanks. I’ve got this.” Jane waved lamely as she left, her thoughts entirely on Phoebe.
Good Sam wasn’t the easiest hospital to get to, especially from Oregon City in the dark. Nonetheless, she only passed her exit twice. And then only passed the parking garage at the hospital once. It took ten minutes just to make up for that miss, since she got stuck on a series of one way roads, but eventually she pulled herself together and made it in the hospital.
By the time she found herself at the information desk asking for Phoebe Crawford’s room, the sweet volunteer made her sit down and drink a small glass of water.
“Are you sure you are going to be okay?”
The volunteer’s name was Joan. She wore a large sparkling pendant on a leather necklace. It reminded Jane of the moon.
“I’ll be fine. I just got a little turned around getting here.”
“Take your time, then. When you feel up to it, here’s her room number.” Joan handed Jane a map with the number written on the margin, and the trauma, recovery, and acute care section of the hospital circled.
Jane didn’t feel like standing up immediately. She sunk into the chair and prayed. She prayed for her nerves, for Phoebe, for Jake, and for the whole Fish/Frances mess.
Phoebe was easier to find than the hospital had been. She was sitting up in a bed with a thin white blanket over her.
Jane knocked on the wall next to the curtain. “Hey Pheebs. You okay?”
“Jane? Come in,”
Jane pulled the curtain away and joined Phoebe in the little cubicle of a room.
“Jake called, huh?”
“Yeah, but you could have called me. Any time.”
“I called Aunt Marje. She’s been here already.”
“Good.” Jane pulled the little plastic and metal chair up to the bed and sat down. “So…”
“So, I was injured in a hit and run.”
Jane hoped the thought that flashed—that Phoebe was the one running—wasn’t obvious.
“Jake thinks it’s because I’m off my meds, which I’m not. I’m not at all. And the cops didn’t bring me here, the ambulance did.”
“How did he get the story so wrong?”
“It’s not totally his fault. When I called I was a bit loopy.”
“But what exactly happened?”
“I was crossing the street, at your apartment, by the way. I had to get that dress I borrowed from Gemma back before she started bugging me about it, and a car turning right plowed over me.”
“But why were you crossing the street? Why didn’t you park in the parking lot?”
“Jane…you just can’t make this one my fault. Anyway, I almost died.”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” Jane ran her f
ingers through her ponytail and took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t think it was your fault, I’m just confused.”
“Join the club. I wacked my head on the curb pretty hard. The car knocked me over, ran over me. My ankle broken in a bunch of places, but they’ve already put the pins in. They’re on top of things around here.”
“You’ve had surgery? Please, please put me on your ‘call in case of emergency’ list. I don’t want you having surgery and not telling me.”
Phoebe lifted up her wrist with its hospital ID bracelet. “I’ll add you to my medical alert bracelet.”
“So, hit and run? Did anyone get the plate of the person who did it?”
“I doubt it, but to be honest, I don’t really remember. I remember hitting my head and then waking up in the ambulance. The paramedic was hot, and exceptionally happy to see me wake up, so that’s good news. It’s nice to have a silver lining when you don’t have anyone to sue.”
“But you’ve got insurance, right?”
“Had I only gotten around to getting some of that.”
“Phoebe, you’re kidding, right?”
“I wish. I have some emails about it. I know I had to pay the fine last year, but I just haven’t had a chance to get it done yet.”
“So all of this?” Jane waved her hand at the IV drip thing next to Phoebe’s bed. It wasn’t plugged in to her arm, but it looked expensive.
“I hope they take Visa.”
Jane closed her eyes. She wanted to believe Phoebe one hundred percent about the story, that it was not even remotely her fault, that she had been taking all of her medicine, that she wasn’t acting erratic, that she hadn’t jumped in front of a car in a suicide attempt. And she kind of did. Maybe. But the insurance…how had she not gotten her insurance sorted out?
“I’m sure they’ll set up payments…make some kind of deal. You won’t have to pay it all…”
“I’m a Crawford, Jane. An heiress, in fact, who came into some good money a couple of years ago. Exactly what kind of hardship can I claim?”
Jane looked away.
“Ah. Well. I don’t take disability insurance for my issues, I take meds. And I don’t ask for handouts. I’ll work something out.” Tears stood at the edges of Phoebes eyes.
“When will they let you out?”
“They’re waiting a little longer because of the head thing. A couple of days, maybe.”
“Then you need some kind of distraction.”
“Hmmm, like maybe you’ll tell me how irresponsible I’ve been by not getting insurance and I’ll explain to you how even though I can’t access most of the money that is in trust for me, I still probably have enough to pay my bills, if, you know, I just work hard enough and stop going to the mall?”
Jane laughed, and Phoebe’s hard face softened a little. “Maybe I can tell you about the murder I’m working. That could be fun.”
“Sure, murder is always fun.” There was a hint in Phoebe’s voice that murder wasn’t always fun. And considering how her mom and dad had died, Jane couldn’t blame her. But she went into the story and all of its details anyway, since that was all she had to talk about.
“It was the groom,” Phoebe said. “Totally the groom.”
“You think?”
“Yes. He killed his best friend—and not because of the review he had written. He killed him because the guy had broken his sister’s heart. Then he ran. I’d put money on it.”
“How much?”
“My medical bills.”
Jane laughed again. She was pretty sure the medical bills would be more than she could earn in a decade cleaning houses.
“You know Jake is going to want to pay them for me. If I’m right—which I will be—he gets to pay them. If I’m wrong—which I won’t be—I will be a good girl and pay them myself.”
“Hmmm…”
“It’s a good bargain for you.”
“Yeah, just my honeymoon fund.”
Phoebe smirked. “You probably think Mom and Dad split the family money evenly between us, don’t you?”
Jane frowned.
“I should be the one frowning. My bum of a brother, who only made it through his stupid MBA because he’s super smart, not because he ever worked hard even a day in his life, got like, all of it. He doesn’t want you to know that. I’ve got a trust, a bit of income, but he’s in charge of that income, and my inheritance was thirty percent. His was seventy. Basically, my life of ease comes at his pleasure.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Jane was embarrassed. She took so many things for granted—one of those, in a way, was Jake’s family life. She didn’t take from him—not for any of her needs. And she didn’t ask questions. It wasn’t her business, yet.
“Meh.” Phoebe shrugged. “At least I don’t have to scrub other people’s toilets for a living.” She pressed her hand to her forehead and yawned.
Jane got the hint. She stood up. “I’ll check in on you again tomorrow.”
“Text first, yes? I might be having a hot date or something.”
Jane rolled her eyes but didn’t laugh. She didn’t have it in her.
Jake was very worried about what would happen to Jane if he were to die in a plane crash on the way to Thailand. But what would happen to Phoebe? Again, Jane felt a strong pull to not rush into marriage. She knew for a fact she could take care of herself. But with Phoebe, it was fifty/fifty. And being able to inherit Jake’s portion of the family fortune would go a long way toward keeping her safe for the rest of her life.
Jane couldn’t put off the wedding date conversation any longer, even though she really didn’t have time for it. And that was the only good thing about Jake being out of town for the rest of the week.
On the long drive home in the dark of night, Jane tried to ignore the last question she wanted to answer…if marrying Jake now was wrong for Phoebe’s sake, would marrying him ever be right?
Chapter 13
Maggie was waiting in the front room of her house for Jane at ten o’ clock on the dot, with her sister and her mother.
Jane had had just enough time to clean a house, check in with Phoebe via text, run to the SCoRI office to report to Flora, and come home to shower and change before the appointed time.
She was glad to note that Flora had been more concerned about Phoebe’s health than about the talk with Ayla. It sent a warm, family feeling all through Jane that made her optimistic about the meeting with Maggie and Brenna.
“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Margot sat on the edge of her sofa, thin hands moving restlessly on her knees. Her eyes were shadowed like she hadn’t managed to sleep in weeks. Her hair was smooth and her clothes were pressed, but her face was ragged and she looked like she was barely holding it together.
Maggie looked tired as well. And angry.
Brenna’s eyes darted from side to side. She wore a dark hoodie, her dark glasses, and a deep look of mistrust.
“Yes, thank you,” Jane said.
Margot jumped up and hurried into the kitchen.
“Thank you both for making time to talk to me.”
Maggie pressed her lips together.
Brenna looked over her glasses at Jane. “I’m not sure why my sister let you come back.”
“I just want to help, and I recently learned that you two could be able help me help you.”
“Oh?” Maggie frowned. “This isn’t some kind of trap, is it? Because we don’t know anything at all, and have talked to the police so many times already. They already know everything.” Her mouth clamped shut, lips just thin lines. “And you aren’t even police.”
Jane opened her laptop. “May I log into your Wi-Fi?”
Maggie glanced at Brenna, who shook her head no.
“Yes, of course. Password Frenchie.”
“Thanks.” The silence was awkward while Jane logged in. When she had Firefox up and running, she opened the donor website. “I had a long talk with Ayla about the funding site she set up.” Jane spun the computer to face
the sisters. “And in the course of the conversation, she mentioned that Brenna has a gift for spotting sock puppets, and aligning them to their other identities.”
Brenna lifted an eyebrow.
“So, I thought maybe we could read some of the comments on here…if we could find which critic matches which donor message, we might be well on our way to finding the person who killed Devon.”
Brenna tilted her head to the side. “I can let you look over my notes, but I’m not sure they will lead you where you are going.”
“You’ve already done this?” Jane was relieved. She hadn’t wanted to make Maggie read over all of the terrible comments again, but hadn’t really seen a way to avoid it.
“Of course.” Brenna crossed her arms. “And I’ve compared it with the VoA trolls as well.”
Jane quickly pulled up Cascadia Surety. “Could I toss another source in there for you?”
Brenna gave a slight nod, but her eyes were glued to the screen.
“Can you compare them to the blog posts on this site?”
“Cascadia?” Maggie said the name with disgust. “You think our insurance company is trolling us?”
“Maybe.” Jane passed her computer to Brenna. “How did you guys end up with Cascadia?”
Maggie drew her eyebrows together. “My mom told us we had to get it. She said we were spending too much money, and being uninsured was upsetting her.”
Jane glanced at the kitchen. Margot didn’t seem in a hurry to come back, which suited her fine. “That seems prudent. But, of all of the companies, why them?”
Maggie scratched her chin. “I don’t know.”
Jane gave her more time to think.
“No. Maybe I do. I think Kyle knew someone who worked there. Maybe someone from college? I think that was it. They weren’t the best deal or anything, but he either knew someone there from college or from high school.” She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. After another pause she shook her head. “I don’t remember him saying though. I just know he acted like he was obligated. It didn’t really matter to me. I mean, I didn’t want to throw money away, but they weren’t awful or anything.”
“Hmmm…” Brenna interrupted. She grabbed an iPad off the side table. “Look at this for me.” She turned the computer to her sister while she opened a file. “Now look at this one.”
The Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 2 Page 29