Plain Jane Mystery Box Set 1 Read online

  “Yeah. How many people know you found them, or know that you are involved with the family?”

  “I don’t know. The family. Some folks with the restaurant business. Who knows how far the word has spread.” Jane itched to put her spare tire on and get moving. She just needed Isaac to tell her how.

  “Have you run across anything you shouldn’t have? Any info that could make you unsafe?”

  “Not yet, but I’m supposed to go to the ME’s today and pick up their personal effects and the autopsy report with Jake. Do you think someone wants to keep us from seeing the report?”

  “Who knows you are picking it up?”

  “Jake and Marjory know we are going for the personal effects, but they’d hardly try and stop me, especially since Marjory is the one who told me to go. But I did talk about it last night at dinner…maybe the protestors at Roly Burger, or the staff heard me.”

  Jane explained the situation at the restaurant the night before and how the employees and the protesters could have listened in on her conversation with Jake.

  “I hate to sound paranoid. Call it the result of growing up with a legal family, but this could have been an attempt to keep you from finding out how the Crawfords died.”

  Jane swallowed hard. “Or, it could have just been a mad ex-roommate who wanted to get even with me for not giving her the cash.”

  “Yeah.” Isaac kicked a tire. “That’s most likely.”

  “So what do I do now? I hate to admit it, but I’ve never been in this position before. Do I have to make a police report?” Jane asked.

  “Well,” Isaac paused in thought, “we don’t have any evidence to indicate who might have done this. If I’ve learned anything from The Judge, it’s that you need evidence. Do you have a spare?”

  “Yes. I hate to sound like a helpless female, but could you help me change it? I’m in kind of a hurry.”

  “Of course.” Isaac got to work on the tire.

  “So, no police?”

  “What would we tell them?”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t call and tell them that I let some guy I’ve never met before, who may in fact be a neo-Nazi, break into an apartment I have no legal right to be in to collect things that the landlord technically owns and that I then refused to pay him so he slashed my tire.”

  “Agreed, you can’t call them and say that. This spare is in sorry shape.” Isaac shoved the flat tire into the back of the Rabbit. “I’d like to follow you back to your place, just to be sure you make it.”

  Jane looked at the small wheel on the back of her car. “Thanks. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

  They connected again at the front door of the Crawford house.

  “You know, my parents live just a couple of blocks away.” He patted the pocket of his button-down shirt. “Do you have a pen?”

  “There’s one inside.” Jane opened the heavy front door and led Isaac into the kitchen.

  She opened the drawer of the kitchen desk and rummaged for a pen and paper.

  “Coach?!” The voice that said this was vaguely familiar, with a panicked note at the end of the drawn-out word.

  “Phoebe?” Isaac responded with a matching note of surprise.

  Jane jerked herself up to see what was going on and knocked her head on the cupboard.

  “Crawford. Phoebe Crawford. How did I not put this together?”

  “You know each other?” Jane rubbed the sore spot on top of her head.

  “From soccer camp.” Phoebe made her way into the kitchen, her hips swinging. Her tall, curvy form was wrapped in a pair of tight, skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a deep v-cut neckline.

  Isaac met her in the middle of the kitchen. He offered her an awkward side hug. “How are you holding up? I am so sorry about your parents.”

  Phoebe slung both her arms around Isaac’s neck and squeezed him. “Oh, Coach, I’m a complete wreck.”

  Isaac hit his hip on the granite counter with a thud, as he disentangled himself from Phoebe’s arms. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  The golf pencil Jane had found slipped through her fingers. Phoebe. Eighteen year-old college freshman. Soccer star. Grieving orphan. That definitely topped slashed tires and a promise not to flirt or date for two more months.

  “I really need to get out of this house. What are you doing? Will you go run some drills with me?” Phoebe lowered her eyes and then looked up at him again, through her long, thickly mascara-ed eyelashes.

  Isaac caught Jane’s eye. He shook his head. “I can’t kiddo. I’ve got a project to take care of, but if there is something else I can do to help later you can let Jane know. She knows how to get a hold of me. I mean, if there is anything that we can do to help, we will.”

  Jane’s mouth quivered into a half smile. He said ‘we.’

  “Did you find a pen?”

  Jane held out the pencil and a scrap of paper.

  Isaac wrote a note and folded it in half. “I’ve go to run.”

  Jane followed him to the door.

  He leaned down to kiss her cheek goodbye but stopped. “Ah. Sorry. Rules, right?”

  “Yes, right.”

  He waved and ran down the many concrete steps to his car.

  Jane shut the door. She needed to have a conversation with Phoebe.

  Chapter 14

  Jane prayed for wisdom as she walked down the hall, back to the kitchen. The family needed Phoebe, and as much as Jane would have liked to ignore the existence of the beautiful, athletic young woman who had just smeared herself all over Isaac, she had to try to convince her to stay.

  Jane went straight to the coffee pot. “Can I pour you a cup?”

  “Are you sleeping with Coach and Jake?”

  “What?” Jane swung around to face Phoebe, the coffee sloshing over her feet.

  “Because that hardly seems fair. Jake’s my brother, so it makes the most sense for you to stick with him and leave Coach for me.”

  Jane set the coffee pot on the counter and counted to fifteen. She dropped the dishcloth from the sink into the puddle of coffee. While she swished the dishcloth back and forth on the floor with her foot, she prayed again for wisdom. With all of her heart she wanted to slap Phoebe across the face.

  “It was nice of you to bring him by though, knowing that I’d need someone to comfort me during this trying time. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about him, But whooo—he’s cute right? And fit. You should see him in a tank top.”

  “I’m not sleeping with anyone, Phoebe.” Jane’s jaw hurt from clenching it.

  “Jake won’t stand that for long, I imagine.” Phoebe took an apple out of the bowl. She turned it over in her hand, the kitchen lights making its waxed red skin shine. She took a bite. The crunch seemed to echo in the kitchen. “He is paying your room and board, Jane. You should show your gratitude.”

  Jane dropped to the ground. She mopped up the coffee with firm, angry strokes. Nothing good could come of this conversation. She repeated it to herself again. Nothing good could come from this conversation. She stood up and wrung the sopping rag out in the sink.

  “I’m glad you came.” It was hard to pull out the words, and they felt like a lie, but for better or worse, it seemed like Phoebe needed her aunt and brother as much as they needed her. It was right, even if it wasn’t comfortable, for her to be back at the house. “Are you planning on staying through the funeral? Maybe afterward as well? At least for a while?”

  Phoebe crunched her apple again. “Depends. Is it a double funeral?”

  “Of course.” Now, Jane wondered, why would her staying depend on that?

  Phoebe chewed on her apple for a while. “Then, no. I wouldn’t go to a funeral for my mother if my inheritance depended on it.”

  The sound of sock feet padding into the kitchen made Jane turn around.

  “That’s because you are a big, fat, brat,” Jake said. He pulled a stool up to the kitchen island. “Did you stand me up, Jane, or is it earlier than I think?”


  “I was delayed this morning.” Jane turned on the water to rinse her dishcloth. She had forgotten the personal effects again.

  “She was out with Coach.” Phoebe set her half-eaten apple on the counter and rolled it back and forth. “They came in together this morning, but don’t worry. Jane says she’s not sleeping with him either.”

  “Good.” Jake laid his head on his arms. He was dressed in his boxer shorts and sweat socks. His arms and back were covered in goose pimples. “Coffee? Please?” Jake sat up again. “Who is this ‘Coach’?”

  “From summer soccer camp.” Phoebe rolled the apple to her brother. He rolled it back. The apple left a sticky trail on the black granite every time it rolled.

  “Name?” Jake said.

  Phoebe shrugged. “How should I know? He’s just some camp coach, but he does look fine in a tank top. And his calves? Yummy. The boy runs, that much is obvious.”

  “Jane? Enlighten me. What specimen did you drag into my lair this morning?”

  Jane rubbed her eyes, exhausted already. “Isaac Daniels. My teacher.”

  Jake looked unimpressed.

  “Ahh!” Jane remembered what Isaac had mentioned earlier, about where his parents lived. That should put things in perspective. “His dad is your neighbor, Judge Daniels.”

  “That puts a different spin on things.” Jake sat up, and stretched his arms, his skinny, bare chest exposed.

  “Neighbor like they have money?” Phoebe crunched her apple again.

  “Neighbor like those weird Daniels kids who didn’t go to school. I think you could do better, Jane. You’ve got a pretty face, a nice figure. You could definitely do better than that weirdo Daniels kid.”

  Jane let her dishrag fall into the sink with a wet plop. “Just get dressed, Jake. Your aunt wants the stuff from the Medical Examiner’s office ASAP.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake laid his head back on the counter.

  Phoebe tossed her half-eaten apple in the sink. “I don’t care if he is weird. You can bring Coach back here any time you want.”

  Chapter 15

  Jake drove his parents’ Jag to the Medical Examiner’s office.

  The supple leather interior was immaculate, and, Jane had to admit, incredibly comfortable.

  “You’ve got to forgive Phoebe. She’s off her meds.” Jake stared straight ahead, a look of serious concentration creasing his forehead.

  “What meds?”

  “For her ‘she’s crazy’ disorder.” Jake gunned his engine to make it through a yellow. “It runs in the family.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “Can I? I suppose I can be honest with Jane Adler, humble but righteous house-cleaner. Phoebe is bi-polar. She’s a brat when she’s medicated. When she’s off her meds she’s a crazy brat.”

  “How crazy, Jake?”

  “She just said she hated our dead mother. Is that crazy enough?” Jake cranked the wheel and made a fast, wide left turn.

  “Yeah. I’d say so.” Jane watched the suburbs fly past. Was Phoebe crazy enough to kill? “So, Jake…do you think your parents were murdered?”

  “Of course. Rich middle-aged Americans of average health don’t just up and die. Not first thing in the morning. Maybe on the tennis court, or after a long day at work, but not first thing in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I really am.” Jane cracked her window to let in some fresh air, but the road noise was too much. She closed it again, willing to suffer the close atmosphere of the luxury car for the sake of the conversation. “Are you scared?”

  “Never.” Jake slammed his brakes at a stop sign.

  “Even though there is a murderer loose?”

  “There’s always a murderer loose, isn’t there? If all the murderers were contained there wouldn’t be any murdered people. I can’t be scared every day, can I? So I’m not scared ever. It saves energy.” Jake took a curve too fast, throwing Jane into her door.

  “Who do you think did it?” Jane’s stomach was roiling from the driving. The conversation didn’t help either.

  “Fitch.”

  “Fitch? In buildings and maintenance?”

  “Yes. That Fitch. He never ordered my new equipment. He’s clearly out to get us.” Jake stopped the car in the middle of the quiet road. “Who do you think did it?”

  Jane squeezed the handle of her door. “Shouldn’t you be driving?”

  “Sure. Why not.” He started the car back up, but drove more slowly.

  “Jake, why aren’t you grieving? I’m concerned for you.”

  “Didn’t I say it earlier? Crazy runs in the family.” Jake merged onto a busy road. They were getting closer to the Medical Examiner's office.

  Jane exhaled slowly. “It’s okay to be scared and sad right now. Do you realize that? No one expects you to be strong or funny, or brave.”

  Jake slammed the brakes again, this time at a red light. “Leave it, Jane. Okay? No one cares what the housekeeper thinks.”

  Jane left it. She rode the rest of the way to the ME’s office in silence.

  When they arrived at the office Jane followed Jake inside the building. The receptionist with the big glasses sat at her desk, alone again.

  Jake buzzed the button three times.

  The receptionist glared at him for a moment. She turned back to the machine.

  Jake buzzed the button again.

  “Jake.” Jane kept her voice low.

  The lady stood up at the pass through in the bullet proof glass. “Yes?”

  “You have my dead parents’ stuff.” Jake hit the buzzer one more time.

  “Name?”

  “Robert and Pamela Crawford of the hamburger empire. I am Jacob Terwilliger Crawford, Esquire. Not at your service.”

  “May I see your ID?”

  Jane inched her way back to the door. As long as Jake was in this mood, she didn’t want to be seen with him.

  Jake handed his ID over.

  “Just one moment.” The receptionist left the room.

  “Jake…I’m sorry.” Jane kept her distance.

  “Sorry that I’m crazy, or an orphan, or that you are a lemon-sucking prune-faced church girl who needs to get some action?”

  Jane took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I was rude. I’m sorry that I overstepped my…boundaries.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  The receptionist returned with a parcel wrapped in clear plastic as though it had just come from the dry cleaners. She pushed it through the opening in her glass wall.

  “Jake, can you get the autopsy report?” Jane stepped a little closer so she could ask in her quietest voice.

  Jake grabbed his package. He turned around and gave Jane a withering look, his thin, blond eyebrows drawn together. “No.”

  She watched him exit the office. Before she followed him she tried the receptionist. “May I have the copy of the autopsy report?”

  “You’re the housekeeper, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then I’m sorry, miss. You can’t.” The receptionist sat down at her desk again.

  Jane heard the engine of the Jag start up. She ran out to catch it.

  Jake let her get in.

  “I thought we wanted to get the report.” Jane buckled herself in. She didn’t dare make eye contact.

  “You wanted to get the report.” Jake tore out of the parking lot.

  “It would be good to know what happened.” A wave of nausea rolled over her as he whipped around a turn.

  “Why? It won’t bring them back.” Jake spoke in a low rumble.

  Jane snuck a glance at Jake. His shoulders were stiff and his jaw was tense. “No, you’re right. It won’t.”

  She sunk down in the leather seat. So was her service to this family really going to just be cleaning and cooking? Was she not going to be able to solve the murders of Bob and Pamela after all?

  Jake dropped Jane off at his house, but immediately pulled away again, driving off with his parents’ pe
rsonal effects. At the very least, Jane had been hoping to go through them with him, to help him process his loss…and see what clues might be hidden in their clothes.

  She let herself into the house by the door to the mudroom. There weren’t many things left on the funeral to-do list. A rest before her next client’s house sounded like a dream come true, but on her way to the third floor bedroom she called her temporary home, she stopped.

  She had dusted and tidied in Bob and Pamela’s room since the accident, but she hadn’t purposefully searched for clues to what had happened that morning. The police had, but they hadn’t told her what they had found, of course. Would there be anything left to find now?

  She wandered down the hallway to their bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look.

  The room smelled empty. It was a weird, hollow smell, similar to her apartment this morning, but without the layer of old appliance. It was the smell of a closet full of winter clothes the first time you open it in the late fall.

  She sat down on the small, round stool in front of Pamela’s mirrored dressing table and pulled open a drawer. Nothing but small make-up compacts. Jane shut it and pulled open the drawer below it. This one was full of carefully organized costume jewelry. Small dishes held rings, and chains were laid out lengthwise in a velvet box with long compartments.

  She tried the drawers on the other side, but nothing looked important. Just the every day things a middle-aged lady needed to get ready in the morning. Jane tried the bedside table on Bob’s side of the bed.

  She hadn’t known which side was his, before she had found him dead.

  The image of the paramedics pulling him off the bed flashed in her mind. She had to sit down and steady herself. She didn’t want to make finding bodies a habit. It was terribly uncomfortable. The drawer next to Bob’s side held a notebook and a pen. It was deep enough to keep extra pillows in, but that was all it had.

  She took the notebook out and opened it. The pages were blank. She rubbed her fingertips across them but couldn’t feel the indentations of previous writing. It appeared to be completely unused.

  Jane crawled across the king-sized bed and pulled open the drawer next to it. It was chock full. Paperback novels, handkerchiefs, several colorful sports watches, hand lotion, a crochet hook, a pair of nail clippers. Jane knelt on the bed, leaning over the drawer and pawed through it trying to figure out what all else was there. This was exactly the opposite of the dressing table. Unorganized and unimportant—the last stuff Pamela held in her hands before she went to bed.