The Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 2

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “No I don’t. Mom does. I’ve already told you that.”

  “But you’ve been stalking Kyle online. You discovered his secret identity.”

  “You are insane. You need to leave now.”

  Miranda stood up. “Jane, let’s get going.”

  Jake leaned back in his seat. “Shane is a smooth operator. That doesn’t mean Jane is wrong. Jane, in fact, is never wrong.” He grinned.

  “You are all nuts. I don’t know what you are talking about.” Shane stood akimbo, filling the doorway. “My mom runs the publishing company. She has a little host of nerds that write for her and she pays them royalties. She is the mastermind and loves her work. She’d never sell it.”

  Something crashed in the kitchen.

  “Your mom really runs the publishing?”

  “Yes. Of course she does.”

  Jane worked her jaw back and forth. Cora was the one who had received the insulting offer for her life’s work? Friendly, dimpling Cora who was a decent, motherly church lady?

  The susurrations of loud whispering from the kitchen whipped Jane back to attention. “If you will excuse me.” Jane pushed passed Shane, who stepped aside more from surprise than a desire to let Jane into the kitchen.

  Cora stood at a sink full of sudsy dishwater, shaking.

  Hester stood next to the back door, arms across her chest.

  “Cora…” Jane tempered her voice to sound sweet and sympathetic. “You’ve worked really hard building up your publishing company, haven’t you?”

  Cora narrowed her eyes.

  “And the offer Kyle and Maggie made for it was a real insult.”

  Cora bit her lip.

  “Don’t say anything.” Hester hissed.

  “I’ll say what I want to say.” Cora snapped. “Those kids have no ethical standards. Leaving one star reviews on my books. Starting threads on their forums talking about how bad my books are. They are trash, not my books. People love my books.” She slapped at the water with something in her hand, making it splash.

  “Mom, calm down.” Shane spoke soothingly.

  “You just wanted to tell them how things are, I bet.” Jane spoke low, one of those barely audible whispers that feel like soothing tickles in your skull. “You wanted to teach them how to run a real business.”

  Cora froze. Her arm was stiff like it held something in a grip, but her hand, and whatever was in it was still submerged. “Don’t feel too bad for Grosse about that review on his game device.” Her voice was almost sweet. “He was in on it. He was slated to share their profit as a third partner. It was all part of their plan, because the crowd funding hadn’t worked out. They wanted to own my books to make them look like a legitimate player in the industry. They wanted to appear like real contenders without doing any of the work.”

  “What was it that Devon said at the meeting?” Jane continued her low, murmured whisper. In the background she could hear someone dialing a cell phone. Not Jake, because he always kept his keyboard noises muted.

  “He said I was ridiculous.” She pursed her lips, but her arm was still stiff and perfectly still. “But I’m not. I don’t need to play video games to know how to run a business. And I am very good at running my business.”

  “Cora, stop talking,” Hester said. “Don’t say anything you will regret.”

  “And you too! Do you know how absolutely sick I am of you treating me like a child?” She swung around, a soapy butcher’s knife pointed at her sister-in-law. “I do not need you to guide me. I have this completely under control.”

  “Whoa, Mom, calm down. Take a deep breath.” Shane’s completely confused look had been replaced by one of concern. “Why don’t we all sit down and just have a conversation, yes? Mom? Can we do that?” He gestured toward the formal dining room. “Jane and her friends can listen to what you know, and then they can leave. And that won’t be bad, will it?” He reached one hand out to her, but didn’t step closer.

  “What I know? You want me to tell them what I know? I know that leaving the first book free is a great way to get new readers to try your work. I know never to put all your eggs in one basket. I know that if you work with gamers online you should always tell them you are a man, and if they are on your side they will do anything for you. And I don’t know who killed Devon Grosse. There is no way that my little Swiss Army knife in his gut could have done it. He had plenty of time to get help. We were alone, Devon and I, and I was going to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.”

  “Mom!” Shane reached for her, but she swung the butcher’s knife at him.

  “It wasn’t a big knife at all. And they were going to take everything from me. If not my company then all of my authors. They were going to do ruin everything. I had to show them who was the boss, didn’t I?”

  Shane shrunk from his mother’s hard stare. Almost like in his youth she had shown him who was boss, too.

  “Cora, I told you to shut up.” Hester’s voice was sharp.

  “And I told you I won’t be shut up.” She swung the knife in Jane’s direction. “You just don’t scare off, do you?” She hissed. “Can’t mind your own business. Can’t take a hint. Don’t even care when your friends get hurt.”

  Phoebe. An ice bath of regret settling in Jane’s stomach. Phoebe’s injury was her fault.

  The room felt frozen in time, but Jane prayed that whatever she said next could fix everything. Only twenty beats of her racing heart passed before the sound of sirens filled the air.

  Whoever had been using the phone had called the police.

  Miranda answered the knock on the door. Two uniformed officers stepped in, with Grant, Jane’s future cousin-in-law, right behind. The officers walked into the kitchen and began to speak with Shane, Hester, and Cora.

  Grant pulled Jane out to the porch. “Miranda had us on speaker phone and we heard Cora’s confession. That was some pretty spiffy work you did there.”

  Jane’s heart was racing and she almost couldn’t speak from breathing so hard. She felt like she had just sprinted up Mt. Scott. “Did you know Kyle was working with the feds?”

  “I might have.”

  “Why didn’t he say who had killed his friend?”

  “He didn’t recognize the person. He did his best though. I know he did.” Grant was watching the scene in the kitchen over Jane’s head. “And hey, so did you! You made me proud.”

  “And me.” Jake’s voice came from over her shoulder. He kissed her cheek. “She’s a good one, yes?”

  “Definitely.”

  Jane had to step aside so the men could shake hands.

  “We’re going to need you all to stay a few minutes longer so we can take statements from you.”

  “And after that,” Miranda interjected. “Oh, never mind. It’s too late. We’ll have to do it tomorrow. Do you mind if I drive your car back to the office?”

  “Not a problem,” Jane said.

  Miranda looked and sounded tired.

  While Jane hated being treated like a nuisance and a newbie, she could understand the feeling of having your territory invaded, and had a little bit of sympathy for Miranda.

  She’d try to be more personally helpful to her in between cases.

  Jane spent the night at Jake’s again, but not because she was afraid of Brad Carter, who was safely behind bars for at least the night. This time it was so she could have a long, late night catch up with Phoebe, who was finally home from the hospital.

  Unfortunately, Phoebe was taking her pain meds regularly, so their girl-talk had to wait until morning.

  “I’m glad you decided to marry Jake earlier rather than later,” Phoebe said, sipping her first cup of coffee. “I’m sick of taking care of him.”

  Jane laughed. “And I can’t wait to get started!”

  The sun shone through the curtained windows of the big kitchen. The room smelled of fresh brewed coffee and bacon. This wouldn’t be her home any time soon, but maybe someday…

  Jake munched a piece of slightly bl
ack bacon. “If your cooking doesn’t improve, we’ll have to get someone to take care of both of us.”

  “Poor little rich newlyweds.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Someday he is going to have to sit down with you and an accountant so he can realize how good he has it. And so you can hold him to that offer of someone to take care of you. If you’re both going to work crazy jobs with crazy hours, death risks, and long travel times, you will need a maid. Maybe even a live-in.”

  “Are you offering?” Jake asked.

  “No.” The look of terror on her face made the simple answer hilarious.

  Jane laughed and coffee came out of her nose. “Ouch! Give a girl some warning next time you decide to be the funniest Crawford.”

  “That is not okay, Jane.” Jake gave her a very serious frown. “There has only ever been one funny Crawford, and that is me.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their morning nonsense.

  It was Jeff. “Hey, guys.” He raked his hand through his thick wavy hair. “I’m surprised to see you here this morning.” He looked around the front room. “And all of this stuff.”

  “You win,” Jake said. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  A man in a polo shirt with the words “Portland Moving Company” embroidered over his heart stepped into the house holding a standing lamp.

  “You don’t?” Jeff asked.

  “You aren’t moving in today,” Jake said. “You aren’t moving in for a couple of months.”

  “That’s what we decided,” Jeff said. “A couple of months ago. Which makes today moving day. Where am I supposed to put everything?”

  Jane’s phone rang. It was the SCoRI office, so she took it, even though she really wanted to know Jake’s answer.

  “Jane? This is Miranda. We need to get on our to-do list. When can you get here?”

  Jane checked the time. It was five after eight. “I can be there at nine. Will that do?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  It was a short call, but Jane had missed the resolution of Jake’s problem, but as he was shoving his mother’s furniture to the side of the room, she guessed that compromise was the word of the day. “I’ve got to get ready for work. See you tonight?”

  “Yes. Perfect. How about your place?”

  “Since you are homeless now, I guess that had better do.”

  “Homeless?” Jeff said. “Even with the house at the beach and the condo in the Pearl?” He glanced back towards the movers. “He’s about as homeless as Paris Hilton.”

  Jake laughed and held his hands up in surrender.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes.

  Jane ran upstairs to shower. If Jake wanted her to think he was going to earn his way through the world, and at least for today, she’d let him have his wish.

  At the office, Rocky handed her a donut. “Miranda filled us in. You will still need to write a report.” His grin stretched across his craggy face.

  The word avuncular popped into Jane’s head, a relic from AP English many years ago. Rocky was like an uncle—happy and proud.

  Flora came out of her office and offered Jane her hand. “You took some crazy risks yesterday, young lady.” Though the words were clearly a lecture, there was a light in her eyes. “And you cannot follow directions to save your hide.”

  “I’m sorry.” She attempted the look that got her a pass with her dad.

  Flora shook her head. “Don’t even try that with me.”

  Jane flinched.

  “I hate to say it, but even if I fired you for being the most stubborn millennial on the planet, you would still go around catching murderers. And probably get yourself murdered in the process.”

  “You’re probably right.” Jane looked to Rocky for support.

  He chuckled.

  “I would be a very bad person to let you run around with no safety net or guidance,” Flora said. “So you can stay on our roster and get your hours.”

  “Thank you!” A grin burst out of Jane that felt like a million dollars.

  “You asked me about your future as a missionary. But only God knows that. I think you need to stay here and get your hours in. God has work for you, and you are doing it. And in the future he will have other work for you. Only he knows what it is and when you get to do it. He put the desire to serve in your heart and will provide the opportunities to do it.”

  “Whether you want him to or not.” Rocky threw in.

  “Of course I want him to.” Jane was confused. These were her mentors, the perfect people to guide her in her rambling path to the mission field, but they were acting like yet another closed door.

  Why was every junction in her journey overseas really just another locked door?

  “You gotta trust the Big Guy, kiddo,” Rocky said. “It’s the only sure fire way to live exactly the life he intends for you.”

  Miranda exhaled in impatience. “And on that note, can we please leave to get this stupid fraud case concluded?”

  Rocky laughed. “Learn to trust as quick as you can, Jane. You don’t want to be stuck here forever.”

  Jane couldn’t have agreed more. Especially as Miranda was acting like she had skipped breakfast again.

  As for trusting God, she’d do her very best, cranky coworker and all. At the moment, trusting him meant serving as a detective. And if she had learned one thing in her first official case, detective work meant a whole lot of repetitious interviews and boring paperwork.

  Killer Night In

  A Plain Jane Short Story

  If Jane Adler had learned anything from Keanu Reeves movies it was that relationships formed during times of crisis just don’t last.

  Falling in love while trying to solve the murder of your boyfriend’s parents counted as a crisis.

  Jake Crawford—said orphan-boyfriend—didn’t see a problem, he also claimed he had loved her since high school. But their one year anniversary was just around the corner (also the one year anniversary of dumping Isaac Daniels—a really good guy, even if he just wasn’t right for her) and she was nervous.

  First, because he hadn’t been around much, and second because recently all of their communication had been via text. Jake was a talker, so an afternoon without a phone call usually signaled something had gone wrong at work. A whole day without a call was unheard of. But this morning—Thursday the fourth of December—marked three days without a call. Lots of texts, and a few private messages on Facebook—but no calls.

  She scrubbed the bottom of her client’s bathtub and tried to make the brick of worry that had settled into her gut go away. She hadn’t had a murder to investigate since the death of Josiah Malachi, and a heavy sense of foreboding hung over her. Something bad was going to happen, and it probably meant the end of her relationship with Jake who, she was pretty sure, was “the one.”

  It would almost be a relief to find a dead body hiding somewhere in the house, just to know that she would have Jake forever.

  A rush of guilt flooded her and she laughed to relieve the tension. She turned the bathtub on to rinse away the Scrubbing Bubbles. She would not, under any circumstances, trade some person’s life just to be sure she could have Jake forever. Any thought along those lines was just dumb.

  Nonetheless, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder as she moved from room to room in the old Portland house cleaning up after the family of six. Something bad was in the air, and it wasn’t just the aroma drifting in from the paper mill across the river.

  Part of her foreboding had to come from her financial straits. Money had run short during the summer so she was only taking two classes at Portland State during the fall, pushing her graduation date back yet again. Her parents hadn’t seemed disappointed in her—they even bought her tickets to Phoenix for Christmas. And Jake hadn’t acted disappointed either, despite having finished his own MBA before she had even enrolled at PSU.

  At this rate, she’d never catch up and the fear that she would completely fail hung over her winter break like the heavy pewter clo
uds that hung over the city. One day of sunshine and a nice fat scholarship could clear everything up, but neither seemed in the works.

  Jake texted again while she was packing up her cleaning caddy. “Dinner? 8?”

  She had been up since 4:30 in the morning, and it was only five in the evening now. Waiting until eight sounded like a Herculean feat. “Sure. Where?”

  She didn’t want to be that girl, the one who would starve all night just to see her boyfriend, but she didn’t see any reason to be fussy about the timing. She could eat at home and with Jake. She hadn’t run out of her monthly quota of Ramen yet.

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  “K.”

  This client liked her out of the house no later than 5:15, so she hurried to make sure she had gotten everything finished and turned out all the lights. Her phone said it was 5:11 when she finally locked the back door.

  As she drove back to the apartment she shared with her cousin the rain started to fall—the slushy kind that turned into gray sludge that soaked through your Converse and made driving dangerous. Nights got dark early in Portland, and this was no exception. The thick clouds, nasty, rainy slush, and the dark night worked together to make her wish people were a hibernating kind of animal.

  But her little apartment was clean, which was either a miracle, or Gemma wouldn’t be able to make rent again and was buttering her up. Jane’s credit card was close to maxed out from filling in for when she or Gemma, or both, didn’t have enough cash flowing into their small business ventures to pay the landlord.

  If Gemma couldn’t pay her half this month they might have to give up on their little independence in Portland and move in with Gemma’s parents. Or, in Jane’s case, give up and move to Phoenix.

  Even the bathroom was free from damp towels and make-up clutter. Jane took advantage of it and had a long hot shower before she ate. A small glimmer of hope illuminated her soul when she was done. Housecleaning was a service to others and wouldn’t kill her. It almost paid all her bills, and it was honorable to work hard. Jake wasn’t going to dump her if he wanted to buy her dinner tonight. Sure, she hadn’t had any clients for her under-the-table detective “ministry” but she was keeping her eye on crime in the news. One of these days she’d have a chance to help a family in a major crisis. And while there was somehow only one package of Ramen left for her pre-dinner-dinner, at least there was one.