Jill Churchill: Grime and Punishment

At least he, unlike the kids, appreciated the gigantic breakfast she fixed. Willard, who had his big brown eyes peeled for leftovers, was disappointed in the slim pickings. After riding along while Mike drove his car to school, Jim let Jane leave with Katie and again with Todd, apparently feeling there was minimal danger at that hour of the morning.

“I think I'd rather figure out the schedules for the New York subway system than try to unravel your itinerary," he said when she returned from the last morning run.

“It's not so bad when you get used to it. Todd's in a car pool with five kids and five driv‑ ers, so each of us does both back and forth one day a week. Every Tuesday all year is mine. Mike's in with three band members, so I drive his every third week, except today was someone else's turn I had to take and we'll make it up next time it's my week—"

“You'll all remember this driving debt?"

“You bet. It's like a Mafia vendetta. Now, Katie's car pools this year are a little more complicated. She's in with four girls, but two of them are sisters, so I drive three mornings a week, another mother drives three afternoons and the mother of the two drives morning and afternoon on Thursdays and Fridays. Of course, while cheerleading practice is going on the first month, I drive her myself and the other two mothers share equally, except when—"

“Stop! It's as bad as I thought. Worse! Now, is there anything you need done around here? I might as well be useful."

“Good Lord, it's good enough of you to come. I can't put you to work besides." She paused. "I do wonder, however, about the furnace. Do you know anything about furnaces? I have a man coming Friday, but—”

He disappeared to the basement with a final warning that she wasn't to leave the house. Jane got busy with housework that had been neglected since the week before. Four loads of laundry and a clean refrigerator later, she detected the faint burnt-dust odor that signified the furnace had kicked on for the first time in the season. She'd always liked that smell. It meant sweaters and leaf-burning and Christmas shopping and roast pork on Sundays.

Jim emerged from the basement with soot on his face and grease on his fingers. Humming, Jane fixed him coffee and warmed up a cinnamon roll snack while he went out to his car to bring in a briefcase full of paperwork. As soon as he was settled in the living room, she went to her bedroom and made a duty call to Thelma. As she talked with the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, she went through her lingerie drawer, culling the worst of the dingy white-cotton atrocities.

The day dragged on. Jane got out to runacross the street with the recipe card she had promised to return to Mary Ellen, but even that wasn't easy. "Take it back some other time," Uncle Jim advised.

“I have a premonition that this is the last time I'll ever see it. Things like this evaporate in my kitchen. Besides, I won't be in any danger."

“What makes you think that?"

“You tell me how somebody with the use of only one arm could strangle someone with a vacuum cleaner cord and I'll stay home."

“It's not what might happen to you there that worries me. It's the getting there!"

“Uncle Jim!"

“All right! Go!”

She sensed that he was watching her through the front window, so she made it a short visit. She was amused to have caught Mary Ellen, one of the neatest people she knew, with a newspaper and scraps of paper all over the coffee table. Probably cutting out coupons, Jane thought, and smiled a little. Who would have guessed a woman so glossy and professional would cut out grocery store coupons just like normal people?

“Jane, what's happening about that horrible murder?" she asked, scooping up the papers with her good hand as if embarrassed at being caught at such a mundane task.

“I don't know and I don't want to know," Jane said firmly. "It's none of my business. It's up to the police. I've got to get home," she said, suddenly depressed at how this thing had come to be the core of all her conversations. What did they all used to talk about?

Shelley came over and had lunch with them, and persuaded Jim to let Jane go to the grocery store with her. Jane came back and spent the afternoon cooking. Reluctantly, Jim agreed to let Jane pick up Todd's car pool, as long as she took Shelley along. Just as she was leaving, the red MG pulled up.

“I just got a call from your uncle to come talk to him. Why didn't you tell me Jim Spelling was your uncle?"

“You didn't ask and he isn't really. Why? Do you know him?"

“No, but I've heard of him. I'm really looking forward to hearing what he thinks of all this.”

She let him in the house and went to get Shelley. "He's looking forward to hearing what Uncle Jim has to say," she told her friend. "I don't like it. That means he needs help.”

Shelley was cranky. "I'm never going to get my children back. I hope my sister remembers to invite me to their graduations and weddings. I'd have them home now except for Paul. I'm concerned for their safety. He's fanatic about it.”

She was quiet the rest of the way. Jane crammed her grade-schoolers into the back seat and got them all dropped off without Shelley saying another word. When they finally got home, Todd scrambled out and the two women stayed in the car. The MG was gone.

Jane broke the silence. "We have to do something, don't we?"

“I thought you were cured of snooping.”

Jane lit her first cigarette of the afternoon and considered it. "I thought so too. But this isn't getting resolved. At least when we meddled something happened, even if it was awful."

“You promised your uncle you'd behave."

“I know I did. But now we know to be more careful."

“So, what'll we do?"

“I don't know. Let's think about it, and I'll come over later tonight."

“He'll let you out of the house?"

“I'll claim I have to borrow some personal, female thing that he'll be embarrassed to question. Of course, he'll probably stand at the door and watch me cross the driveways. Maybe hold my hand and walk me across.”

For the second night, the children stayed home to enjoy the rare treat of having Uncle Jim around. About eight o'clock, Jane made her escape. As she predicted, he did stand at the door and watch until she was safely inside Shelley's house.

“Where's Paul?" she whispered as she came in.

“Not to worry. He had to go back down to the office. One of the franchisees got flooded out this afternoon and he's wrangling with the insurance people. So, what have you come up with?”

“You first."

“I asked first."

“Well—" Jane sat down, elbows on the table and chin in hands. "This might sound sort of absurd, but my thinking is, nothing's happening. Obviously everybody's got some kind of secret, right? We've found out what a few of them are already, and we could go on nosing around forever and all we'd find out is more secrets— not who's willing to kill somebody to keep them. Right?"

“Right. Go on." Shelley was sitting across from her in a mirror-image attitude. She'd been nodding the whole time Jane talked.

“So, if we go on, we might just make everybody mad without solving anything. And it's possible — probable — that we've already questioned the person responsible, and it would be a waste of time too. Shelley, I don't think this is a confirmed murderer, somebody with a mad bloodlust. It could be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. So, the way I see it, there's one logical way to find out who tried to kill Edith and accidentally killed the other woman.”

Shelley nodded again. "To give her another shot at it…"

“Exactly. All we have to do is recreate the same circumstances. That's what you came up with too, wasn't it?"