Jill Churchill: Grime and Punishment

“What kind of friend are you?" Jane asked. She was joking, but embarrassed. "All right. We were trying to find out if and why they were being blackmailed by that awful Edith."

“And were they?"

“Oh, yes. At least two of them were. Suzie says not and I believe her. But Robbie and Joyce—" Jane stopped. She could feel the hateful tears filling her eyes again. She wasn't going to break down and make a bleary-eyed, blubbering fool of herself in front of him. Bad enough that he now knew she wore boring white underwear.

“I don't mean to upset you. We know about Mrs. Jones. Robbie. But not about Mrs. Greenway.”

Shelley sat forward, as if to speak, but Jane put up a hand to stop her. "My husband, my late husband—" She paused, taking a deep breath. "My late husband was leaving me for Joyce Greenway the night he — became my late husband.”

There, she'd said it.

He had the good grace to look surprised. "I am sorry I had to know that, Mrs. Jeffry. Jane. Off the record, I've also got to tell you I find it hard to believe."

“Oh, it's true enough. She admitted—"

“No, what I meant was, I've interviewed you and I've interviewed her and I can't imagine—”

Jane felt herself blushing. Actually blushing. Oh, well, he'll probably think it's a hot flash. "Will you be able to tell anything about the person who did this from the paper the note was on? I've read that the police can trace paper—"

“It was the back of your electric bill."

“She could have at least used a brand of paper only made in Singapore between March and July of the year she was there with her brother—"

“She?Singapore? What?"

“I was just thinking about mystery books. It always turns on something like that." Now she was back on familiar ground, he was scowling at her again. It was oddly comforting. "We only talked to Suzie Williams, Robbie Jones, and Joyce Greenway. It had to be one of them."

“Or somebody they talked to about your — questioning," he said.

“You mean snooping. I guess that's true, but I'm pretty sure neither Robbie nor Joyce would have gotten right on the phone to talk to somebody else about it.”

He leaned back and studied her for a long moment. She felt like a used car about to get its tires kicked. "You think you know who did this, don't you?"

“It doesn't matter what I think. I've had ample proof today of the general failure of my perceptions."

“Still, I'd like to know your opinion.”

Shelley nodded her encouragement, and Jane said, "For what it's worth, I'm certain it's Robbie Jones. Suzie Williams was pretty much amused by my questions. Joyce Greenway — well, she was as upset as I was by my knowing. Not that I'd like to give her public credit for having a conscience, but I think she probably went home and just kept crying. But Robbie was furious. She screamed at us to get out of her house and kept on screaming. I've never seen anybody look at me with such hatred."

“And all these women were home all day?"

“No, Suzie was just coming home from work early, and Joyce doesn't have a job. Robbie said she was leaving for work in nine minutes, but that was when we got there. She might have changed her mind."

“I'll check on it." The doorbell rang. "That must be my man from the lab. I'll get it." He went to answer the door, talked for a minute with the newcomer, and sent him up the stairs.

When he came back, Jane said, "He won't be long, will he? I don't want the kids to know what danger they're in. What danger I've put them in."

“You didn't mean to. And, frankly, you were able to find out at least one thing that we might have never known. Now, you need to decide where you're going to go."

“Go? Why should I go anywhere? Oh, you mean in case Ro — the person who did thiscomes back. I see. Do I have to go? I'd have to explain it all to the kids and—"

“Don't you have some relatives you can stay with?"

“Only my mother-in-law — and I'd ' rather move into a kennel of rabid dogs."

“Well, I could ask the county if they can spare an officer to stay here, but they're pretty short-staffed as it is, and I don't know how long it would be."

“What about your Uncle Jim?" Shelley asked. "He's offered, but it's so far out of his way, and if it's going to be for long—"

“I hope it won't be any time at all," VanDyne said. "But I can't make any promises."

“You mean this could just drag on forever? What are you going to do to solve it?”

“Everything we can.”

The man from the lab came downstairs just then and handed VanDyne a note. He read it and said to Shelley and Jane, "Mrs. Jones came to work in a disturbed state today and left after a half hour.”

He made no further comment then, but simply rose and tucked his notebook into his jacket pocket. Jane stood too, and walked to the front door with him and the lab man, who was carrying a plastic bag.

The lab man went to his car, but VanDyne paused. "Mrs. Jeffry, Mrs. Nowack — in the normal course of such an investigation, I wouldn't have told you that. But you have created an abnormal situation by conducting your own research. I don't need to point out the danger and tell you to stop, do I?"

“Of course not. I'm reformed. From now on I mind only my own business," Jane said fervently.

That sounded familiar. Hadn't she said the same thing to Uncle Jim just this morning? This time she meant it.

Twenty

Uncle Jim was furious. "You went around tell- ing those women you knew they were being blackmailed? Oh, Jane, Jane, Jane. Your parents didn't raise a dummy! Why in the world did you do a thing like that?" His voice crackled over the telephone wire.

He'd never spoken to her that way, she'd never felt she deserved it as much as she did now.

With no attempt to defend herself, she said, "Will you come stay with us for a day or two? Just the nights, Uncle Jim. I'll feed you fantastically well to make up for the inconvenience I know I'm putting you to.”

He heard the fright in her voice. "Of course I will, Janey.”

He was there within the hour. She met him at the door with a whispered warning. "I haven't told the kids why you're here or anything about the threat. I don't want them to know. Shut up, Willard!" The dog, knowing the guest and sure he was no intruder, was making much of acting the fierce watchdog.

“Right. Are they here now?"

“Just Todd. He's out in the backyard, trying to make a paper airplane fly. Mike and Katie ought to be back pretty soon. They're eating out. Let me get you settled. I have a tuna casserole in the oven for us. You do like that, don't you?"

“As long as it's never been frozen in a little tray.”

Once she had him installed in the tiny room that served as a sewing room and emergency guest room, he sat down on the edge of the narrow bed and she took a chair by the window. Todd was still out back, and had flown half a dozen sheets of notebook paper into the field behind the house where they fluttered around like confused ghosts.

“Janey, I've been thinking about what you told me. Answer a few things for me — what about the doors? Were any of them forced?"

“Not that anyone can tell. But the last time I left the house, I'm not sure the kitchen door got locked. I wasn't that last to leave. Shelley was, and we were all upset about something else."

“Something else?”

Jane paused a moment, then launched into a full account of her hideous conversation with Joyce Greenway. Uncle Jim took out a pipe and accessories and made a busy production of preparing to smoke it while she talked. It was a little easier this time. While telling Detective VanDyne, she'd feared seeing his contempt. But with Uncle Jim, she dreaded his pity. As she spoke, she recognized with another part of her mind that she was really sick and tired of pity. She'd had a lifetime quota since Steve died.