Jill Churchill: Grime and Punishment

Jane rummaged in her purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill, which she handed to the astonished clerk. "I'm sorry, but I can't take time to buy these things today. I'll be back next week. This is for all your time and trouble. Come on, Shelley, I'll explain in the car.”

As soon as the doors closed, Jane started rattling off her thoughts so fast Shelley could hardly understand her. When she'd wound down enough for Shelley to get a word in, she said, "I don't know, Jane—"

“But it has to be. Don't you remember the order those dishes were stacked in the refrigerator? This is the only thing that could possibly explain it! We've been wrong all along about Robbie. We have to tell VanDyne before it's too late. Suppose they think it was Robbie too, and come jumping out from behind the drapes and arrest her? It would be horrible for her, and it would blow the whole plan besides."

“How do you intend to contact him? The only person who's supposed to be at my house is Edith, and I don't think the police will risk answering the phone."

“Shelley—"

“ No, Jane. We promised we wouldn't go back. We promised!"

“Haven't we already done enough to Robbie? Could you ever face yourself again if she got arrested by mistake and we could have stopped it? After all she's already been through? Shelley, I'm going back. You can come with me or not."

“Dammit, Jane!All right. But we can't just drive up. We'd spoil the stakeup."

“It's stakeout. No, we'll get there the same way those men did last night. Across the field behind our houses."

“They did it at night when they couldn't be seen."

“ We won't be seen either. It's tall grass. We'll crawl." She turned on the ignition and started home.

“You're insane!" Shelley shrieked, but Jane paid no attention.

It seemed a much longer trip back. Jane's driving, already frantic, wasn't improved when she realized she'd taken a wrong exit and made a U-turn on the highway to correct her error.

When they finally stopped on the shoulder of the road, Shelley was shaking.

“If you think I'm going to ruin this outfit by crawling clear across—"

“No need, Shelley. It just takes one of us to explain," Jane said. She leaped out of the car and dived into the high grass before Shelley could change her mind. She'd never realized how large this field really was until she crossed it on her hands and knees. Nor did she have any idea previously of how many nasty, prickly things grew in it. Her arms and face were crosshatched with scratches by the time she reached the edge of Shelley's backyard.

She climbed over the fence and ran for the house, then flung herself down the basement stairwell and paused to get her breath for a moment before trying the door. Thank God! It was unlocked. She stepped in, picking her way carefully through Shelley's basement and up the stairs. At the top, she waited, listening. She didn't want to suddenly appear in Shelley's kitchen right in the midst of an arrest. Nor did she want to spring the trap too soon.

Finally, hearing nothing whatsoever, she gingerly pushed the door open a crack. Nothing.Open a little bit more. Still nothing. She stuck her head through and a voice next to her ear said, "Stop right there!”

She turned and looked into the barrel of a gun. Behind it there was a young man in jeans and a T-shirt that said "Tit for Tat.”

Dear God! Had she been even more wrong than she thought? Had it been a wandering ma-niac after all? And why was he back here today? Would Thelma get to raise her children now? "We got her, sir!" he shouted.

Suddenly the room was full of men. Five other plainclothesmen — including Detective Mel VanDyne and Uncle Jim Spelling, who emerged from the broom closet spitting flame. "Jesus Christ, Janey!" Uncle Jim said. "Put that gun down, Harris. She's not the one. Not that she doesn't deserve to be shot!”

Detective VanDyne had bent over the counter and looked like he was about to start banging his head on the Formica. "I could have gone into the family's hardware business, but no-o-o, I had to go into law enforcement…”

Harris, the wandering, maniac, put away his gun and turned. The back of his shirt said, "Okay, what's a Tat?"

“Uncle Jim, we were wrong. It isn't Robbie at all—”

At that moment, everyone froze at the sound of the vacuum cleaner starting upstairs. It was obviously a signal. The men in the kitchen instantly melted away. "I don't have room for her with me," Uncle Jim said. "You take her!" With that, he got in the broom closet and closed the door behind himself.

Mel VanDyne grabbed Jane's wrist and dragged her into the living room. Two sofas faced each other in front of the fireplace. Van-Dyne crouched behind the farthest one and yanked Jane down beside him. "Not a word! Don't even breathe!" he said.

“But you have to know someth—"

“Shut up!”

Jane caught her breath. Someone had opened the kitchen door. She started to peek over the top of the sofa, but VanDyne grabbed her hair with one hand and put the other over her mouth. She subsided.

The sound of high heels on the kitchen floor.The refrigerator door opening.The rattle of a dish lid. The refrigerator door closing.

Jane was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the back of the sofa and wishing she could see. Was her theory right? It had to be. It was the right dishwasher and the wrong dishes.

There was a long silence. The outside door should have opened by now if it was just somebody innocently delivering food and then leaving. The footsteps started again, across the kitchen floor toward the living room. When they hit carpet, they turned into soft scuffs. Jane froze.

This was it. This was the murderer! Suddenly Jane was very, very sorry she'd come back. There was almost nowhere in the world she wouldn't rather be. Jane couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. Was she walking to the stairway now, going up to try again to kill Edith? Beside her, she felt Detective VanDyne stiffen, bunching his muscles as if to spring.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly the sofa moved a little, as if the killer had decided to sit down for a minute and think about what to do next. Horrified, Jane glanced at Van-Dyne. He was looking up. She followed his gaze and found herself looking into a familiar face.

“What the fuck are you two doing back there?" Suzie Williams asked.

Twenty-four

"You have the right to remain silent—”

“No! Stop!" Jane exclaimed.

“—If you give up that right—"

“She's not the one! Stop saying all that stuff!" Jane grabbed VanDyne's arm.

He pulled away. "Mrs. Jeffry, you are interfer-ing

“Please listen. She's not the murderer. I swear it. But if we stand around making all this noise, we might scare off the person who is.”

Again the men filled the room. The vacuum cleaner stopped.

“Have I interrupted something?" Suzie asked, throwing a dazzling smile at the one who'd put the gun in Jane's face. He puffed up his chest and smiled back.

“Mrs. Jeffry, I think you've gone crazy!" Van-Dyne snapped, his professional manner crumbling. "If you don't get out of here right this minute—"

“May I come in?" Shelley said from the basement door. Her clothes were a mess, and there were little green stick-tights spangling her hair.

“Oh, shit!" VanDyne said.

A voice from the top of the stairs said urgently, "Here comes another one, Mel."

“Look, there isn't time to explain, but it all makes complete sense," Jane said quickly. "Just trust me."

“Trust you? You?"

“Please. Just until whoever this is has come and gone. I'll tell you the whole thing and you'll see I'm right. I promise. If you don't agree, I'll sneak back out and not say another word.”

VanDyne stared at her for a long moment, then at Suzie, who was smiling seductively. He looked like he half believed Jane and half wanted to shake her teeth loose.