Jill Churchill: Grime and Punishment

Twenty-three

She was awake long before the alarm went off. Going downstairs, she peeked out the windows at the Nowacks' house and the street. Everything looked absolutely normal. As soon as it was fully light, Paul came out, backed the car to the end of the driveway, then got out and returned to the house for his briefcase. Jane wondered it that was for real or planned to make sure any possible watcher was thoroughly aware of his leaving.

Jane drove Katie to cheerleading practice, came back and took the boys to band practice, and was home before Todd was picked up. "Hey, Mom, old thing. You look kinda sick or something," he said as Dorothy Wallenberg's Mazda pulled up.

“Just tired, Todd, old thing. I'll take a nap today and be gorgeous by this afternoon.”

Dorothy just waved to her and drove off when Todd got in the car. Apparently this wasn't going to be an exact replica of the last time or she'd have had her cake along.

Back inside, Uncle Jim was opening a can of cat food, having taken seriously his role as member of the family. "What'll you do?" she asked him.

“As soon as you two leave, I'll slip across to the Nowacks' behind that hedge."

“So you think it's a near neighbor — Laura or Suzie or somebody on the block who can see the house, instead of Robbie?"

“It's possible.”

She had a feeling he knew more than he was telling her, but this wasn't the time to try to pry anything out of him — not that she'd have any success anyway.

A few minutes later a blue Happy Helper van stopped in front of Shelley's. There was only one person besides the driver. The door opened and Edith got out. Jane had been afraid she wouldn't show up, in spite of Shelley's efforts.

At nine-thirty, Jane strolled across the two driveways and knocked on Shelley's door. "Come in," Shelley said.

“Where's Edith?" Jane asked.

“Upstairs in the master bedroom with an officer, being questioned and kept out of sight.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps in the room above, a male voice mumbling from the basement stairway, and Mel VanDyne and another man were in the living room, talking quietly over some paper work. He looked up at the sound of Jane's voice. "Ah, Mrs. Jeffry. Are you ready to leave?" He sounded cranky.

“No, I'm not leaving," Jane said.

“What?" Shelley and VanDyne spoke in unison.

“This is my idea and I'm going to see it through," Jane insisted.

“Oh, it's your idea, all right," VanDyne drawled sarcastically, "but you're not seeing it through. In fact, if you don't get out of here right now, I'll have you arrested and taken away for interfering with an officer doing his duty."

“Jane, be sensible," Shelley implored. "If we aren't seen leaving, it'll wreck the plan. The whole point is to make it appear Edith is here alone. Come along right now!”

Jane might have marshaled a further argument, except at that moment her attention was diverted to a figure at the head of the stairway. Edith. No, not Edith. A woman with blond frizzy hair and a Happy Helper uniform that looked very much like the cleaning lady. "Hey, Mel, what time you got?" the figure said in a deep, male voice.

“That's a man!" Jane exclaimed.

“You didn't think they'd let the murderer actually attack Edith, did you?" Shelley asked. In a single, quick motion, she grabbed Jane's arm and steered her out the kitchen door before she could protest.

As per their instructions, they dawdled along, taking their time getting into Jane's station wagon. Shelley stopped and pointed to Jane's house and pretended to talk about the roof. Then they turned and looked at Shelley's roof. All this was to make sure that anyone who might be watching didn't miss their departure.

While they stood there, Mary Ellen Revere emerged from her house to get the paper and waved with her good arm. Suzie Williams tooted the horn merrily as she passed on her way to work. The Staplers' house showed no signs of life. Nor could Jane recognize any of the cars parked here and there along the street as suspicious.

At a discreet hand sign from Jane's kitchen window, she and Shelley got in the car and drove off. "Where are we going?" Shelley asked.

Jane didn't answer for a minute, then said, "Anywhere we want, just so they think we've gone, but we're coming back. I want to see what happens and make sure VanDyne doesn't screw anything up."

“If he heard you say that, he'd probably shoot you. I'm not sure I'd blame him. We are not going back until it's over."

“But Shelley—"

“No 'buts.' Consider yourself taken captive. I won't take you back there.”

They stopped at a fast-food drive-through and got danishes and coffee. Jane reluctantly dragged out a city map and pretended to look it over for possible destinations. "I know," Shelley said. "I know where there's a gardening supply store. Let's go look at bulbs and seeds and things. By the time we get there, have a nice look around and long lunch someplace, and then drive home, that ought to effectively eat up most of the day. Take a left out of here and then a right at the next stop light.”

Jane opened her mouth to make one last appeal to return to the stakeout, but Shelley's warning glance froze the words in her throat. When Shelley got that look, there was no changing her mind.

In spite of her worries about what was going on back at home, Jane managed to get into thespirit of shopping. A clerk was eager to help her, and unwilling to let her buy more than she could handle in the first year of gardening. Jane started accumulating little bags of bulbs that soon grew to an armful. When she dropped one, the clerk said, "Let's find something to put those in.”

Near them on the floor there was a big, round-bottomed stainless steel mixing bowl someone had used to clean up some spilled potting soil. Flecks still adhered to the inside. "Bulbs won't mind a little dirt. The outside is clean," the clerk said, holding it while Jane dumped her purchases in.

As he handed it to her, she realized too late that the outside of the bowl was a little damp and very slippery. It was also heavier than she anticipated, and slithered out of her grip. The bowl bounced, clanging, on the cement floor, and bulbs flew every which way.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am. I thought you had a hold of it," the clerk said, immediately stooping and starting to gather up the bulbs.

Jane and Shelley joined him on the floor. "It's not your fault," Shelley soothed. "She did the same thing in my kitchen the other day, but it was potato salad. A lot messier.”

Something started whirring and clicking in the back of Jane's mind.

“Jane, you could at least help," Shelley said.

“I dropped the potato salad bowl!" Jane said, sitting back on her heels and putting her hands over her eyes to shut out everything so she could listen to what was going on in her brain.

“Well, it's no big deal. It didn't break. Jane, are you crying or something?"

“No, I'm thinking.”

The clerk, by now, was looking uneasy. He put the last of the bulbs in the bowl and backed up as if ready to make a run for safety.

“Do you have a phone book here?" Jane asked him suddenly.

“Uh — yes, I think so. I'll get it for you.”

“Jane, what is it?" Shelley asked.

“I'm not sure. Just let me think this out.”

The clerk came back with the phone book, eyeing her nervously. Ignoring him, Jane starting flipping through pages. She found what she wanted and ran her finger down the column. Shelley looked over her shoulder. "Hospitals?What do you want to find a hospital for?"

“It's not here, Shelley. It's not here!”

The clerk was looking around frantically, ready to summon help if she got violent. Shelley grabbed her shoulder and shook her. "Jane, what in hell are you carrying on about?”