Jill Churchill: Grime and Punishment

Jane reached for her purse and took out a twenty-dollar bill. "Here, why don't you treat Jenny and her mom to dinner at the mall?"

“Huh?" Katie stared at the money as if itmight bite. "You're giving me this and I didn't even ask?"

“Yes, now go. Go."

“Oh-kay!”

Jane closed the bedroom door again and followed Katie downstairs. Mike was just coming in. He dumped his backpack full of books on top of Katie's on the kitchen floor. "Listen, Mom, a bunch of the guys asked me to play a little basketball and go for pizza. Do you care?"

“No, that's fine.”

He had his mouth open, ready to launch into an argument on behalf of his plans. "Hey, you sick or something? You look kinda pale."

“Just tired," she said.

“Hey, in band this morning, Old Bellhaven started having a big fit 'cause nobody was marching in time, so he makes us go in the band room and sits us all down. He's hopping around and yelling his head off like he does, and he goes up to the board and writes these huge letters P — R—I — D—E, see? And he says, 'I want you all to have some of this!' And he bangs his fist on the board. Old Scott's sitting back there, tapping away with the sticks and so he stands up and says, "Thanks, Mr. Bellhaven, I'll take the D.' “

Jane forced a smile.

“Mom, what's wrong? You usually like Scott stories.”

She wanted to hug him and assure him that she loved Scott stories and loved him more and wouldn't let anything happen to him. But instead she punched him on the arm and said, "Couldn't sleep last night, that's all. Tell me again tomorrow when I'm awake and I'll laugh. I promise. Now get along to your basketball game.”

Unlike Joyce Greenway, she was a rotten actress. Mike headed for the door, then paused. "Are you really sure it's okay if I go?"

“Positive.”

Two down, one remaining.

Shelley drove up as Mike was leaving on his bike. Jane ran out to meet her. She could see the woman who drove Todd's car pool on Mondays coming down the street. "Shelley, go up to my bedroom and carefully lift the underwear off the bed. I've got to get rid of Todd. I don't want the kids to know.”

Shelley got out of the minivan. "Don't want them to know what?"

“You'll see. Don't touch anything but the underwear.”

Shelley went inside. Jane waited for the gray Volkswagen to pull in the drive. Todd tumbled out, wrestling with Elliot Wallenberg. "Mom, can Elliot stay here and play soldiers?"

“Honey, I've got a headache. Why don't you both go play soldiers at Elliot's instead?”

That was agreeable to them and, giggling, they piled back into the car. Fortunately, the Monday driver was a woman Jane hardly knew, a brand-new addition to the neighborhood, and she was spared having to make pleasant conversation. By the time Jane got back to the house, Shelley was standing at the door. She had one hand over her mouth as if physically stopping a scream.

“Have you called the police?”

Jane came inside and watched out the window to make sure the gray Rabbit hadn't turned back for any reason. "Not yet. I didn't want the kids to know. I'll call now. Do you have that number for Detective VanDyne? I don't know what I've done with it."

“I've got it at home. Wait, isn't that it on the pad next to the phone?"

“Yes. I wonder if whoever did this noticed that I keep his number handy for constant communication?" She dialed. "Detective VanDyne, this is Jane Jeffry. I need you to come right over. Someone has stabbed my bed. I mean, well — come over and you'll see what I mean. No, wait! No sirens. Please don't come with sirens or police cars.”

She hung up before he could ask her any questions, then went into the living room and flung herself down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Shelley plopped down in a most unShelleylike manner in the chair across from her.

“If I kept a diary, I could have a whole month's worth for this one day. It will live in my memory forever, unfortunately."

“For heaven's sake, Jane, don't go on about diaries. Tell me about that knife in your bed!"

“There's nothing to tell you. It was there like that when I came home. I saw it and threw some clothes over it, and got to work trying to find you and get the kids safely out of the house without alarming them."

“Who put it there?"

“Shelley! That's a dumb question. All I know is it's there. Could Joyce have done it before you got her out?"

“No, she was all but clinging to me the whole time. I had to pry her fingers off my arm to get her into her car."

“Did you lock the door?"

“Jane, I've been combing my brain to remember. I just don't know. I pulled it shut. If you had the button turned, it locked. Did you?”

Jane put her arm over her eyes and sighed. "I have no idea. No idea.”

The doorbell rang and Jane tried to get up. She was so emotionally exhausted that her legs wouldn't even move right. She was almost woozy, like coming out of ether in the dentist's office.

Shelley jumped up. "Stay there. I'll let him in.

Jane heard the door opening and Shelley's soft tones. Then there was the creaking of the third step as her friend took Van Dyne upstairs to see the knife and note. Absurdly, she was wishing the underwear she'd strewn around the bed was lacy stuff, not practical, white cotton.

She heard them come downstairs and go from door to door, checking the locks. Apparently the knife had changed Detective VanDyne's mind about her, because when he and Shelley came back into the living room a few minutes later, he was pleasant and polite. "I'd like to have a man from the lab over. May I use your phone?"

“Ask him to come in a plain car, not a police car," Shelley said. "Jane doesn't want her children frightened."

“Of course.”

He was back in a moment. Jane managed topull herself upright. "When did this happen?" he asked.

“I found it about three-thirty. I had been gone from about two or two-thirty."

“It wasn't there before that?”

Jane struggled to think back. "I don't remember if I was in that room anytime today after I got dressed. I don't think so."

“No hurry. Just think it out step by step. Talk it through if that helps."

“All right. I got the kids off to school and left to ride with Shelley to get birdseed around quarter of nine."

“Did you lock the house? I don't see any obvious evidence of forced entry."

“Yes, that time I locked up. I'm sure of it.”

“When did you get back?”

Jane looked at Shelley and shrugged. "Around nine-thirty or ten?" Shelley nodded. Jane went on. "I came inside, and a few minutes later Shelley came over. We went over to her house, and you called.”

VanDyne flipped a page of the small notebook he was writing in. "That was at 10:08. Did you lock up the house then?"

“I don't know. I think so. You came over when?"

“Twenty minutes later."

“I didn't go back home after that for a while. When you left, we cleaned up the kitchen and put all the borrowed dishes in Shelley's minivan to take back. We went to Suzie Williams's house first—"

“You drove next door?"

“We didn't mean to, exactly. But yes. She was just getting home as we were leaving. We stayed a few minutes, and then we went to see Robbie Jones.”

VanDyne looked up from his note-taking, an eyebrow lifted. "You weren't, by any chance, trying to do my job for me, were you?"

“Whatever do you mean?" Jane asked, sounding even to herself like Miss America being asked if she were a virgin.

“I mean, it's odd that you happened to be visiting with the very people I'm questioning.”

Jane slipped off her sneaker and started massaging her foot as if she had a sudden cramp.

Shelley said, "Jane, I think we better tell him."