Bright New Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery Read online

  ***

  Jane climbed the stairs to the offices on top of the second-to-last Roly Burger restaurant. She knocked and then let herself in. She had a twinge of fear, but Marjory, Jake’s intimidating aunt, was not at the desk.

  The girl at the desk was much younger than Marjory.

  And very cute.

  Jane sniffed. Curly blonde hair. Freckles. An upturned nose? Really? Jane wondered if the girl could type, but then noticed that the girl was typing—and talking on the phone at the same time—both at lightning speed. The girl looked up for a second and nodded towards a row of chairs against the wall.

  Jane almost sat, but reminded herself that she was a private detective, not the maid, this time.

  She ignored the receptionist and pushed open Jake’s office door.

  Before she could say hello, a man in the chair opposite Jake stood up, pushing his chair into Jane’s knees. “I think you’re going to regret this, Crawford.”

  Jake’s face was brilliant red. His shoulders were up to his ears, and a vein on his neck was throbbing. “And I think you are overreacting. When you are ready to talk man-to-man, I’ll be here.”

  Jane scooted to the wall next to the door. Jake’s eyes were glued to the angry man, and he didn’t acknowledge her.

  The angry man snarled—or at least that was the best word Jane could come up with. It was a businesslike kind of snarl. Very television drama. He pushed his way out the door, stomping so loudly they could still hear him on the stairs.

  “Jane.” Jake stared out the door. “That was the mayor of Maywood, and he wants junk food blue laws in our gentle little town.”

  “He’s not a Helper, is he?”

  “Not that he admits to.” Jake took a seat—on top of his desk. “You, however, are a sight for sore eyes. What can I do for you?”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “I want the guest list to the fundraiser. Not the official one though, the augmented one. The one you filled out that has pretty much everyone on it.”

  Jake furrowed his brow. “I could do that for you.”

  “But?”

  “But you’d have to do something for me in return.”

  “Of course I would.” Jane sat down in the chair the angry mayor had so violently vacated.

  “Move to Maywood.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Move to this cute little suburban mini-town so you can vote against the blue laws, and so I can come see you as often as I want without giving your cousin the wrong idea.”

  Jane laughed. “Don’t be a dope, Jake. I can’t abandon Gemma. She can hardly afford half the rent on the apartment, much less the whole thing.”

  “And whose fault is that? Not yours. Certainly not mine. Why should I have to suffer?”

  “Okay, enough of that. Can I have the list?”

  “Sure.” Jake made a show of digging his phone out of his desk. He frowned, rubbed his forehead, and typed on the touch screen for a few minutes. “Done. I just sent you the list of people I invited via text, and the folks who RSVP’d. I also sent my own notes on who I saw at the party who hadn’t let me know they were coming.”

  “Wow. Really? You had time to take those notes?”

  Jake shrugged. “I’ve got to make the time. Money doesn’t make itself. I’ve already sent thank-you cards to everyone who was there. Ah!” He banged on his phone a bit more. “There you go. That’s the address list I sent the thank you’s too. It wasn’t anything big this year, just a personally signed card and a book of gift certificates. And yes, I have to keep tabs on all of that. It’s tax deductible—I hope.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I wasn’t just voted most popular, back in high school. I was also president of Young Entrepreneurs.”

  “You were?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

  Jane shook her head. She wasn’t entirely sure there had been a Young Entrepreneurs at Presbyterian Prep, but apparently his dad had trained him well for his future running the family business. “Remind me: where did you go to college?”

  “College? Did I go there?” Jake hopped off of his desk and moved to the window. He stared across Main Street. “Can you believe they want to shut down every business that sells junk food every Sunday? It’s preposterous. After-church lunch sales are big money to me.”

  “You went to college.”

  “Are you suddenly an education snob, Jane? Is this the Daniels’ influence rubbing off on you?”

  Jane’s face went up twenty degrees. “Never mind. Thanks for the help.”

  “I entered OSU with two years’ college credit under my belt and finished my business degree at nineteen and a half. I went back for an MBA that I took mostly online. Not that I didn’t do my fair share of partying anyway, but, yeah. You don’t make lifelong college friends when you are in and out like that.” Jake drummed his fingers on the window. “But you have to guess which O and which U. Am I a Beaver or a Buckeye? Or maybe Cowboy? You can’t make me tell.”

  “Wow. You’re smarter than I thought you were.” Jane chewed her bottom lip.

  Jake stared out the window, the weight of the world, seemingly, on his shoulders. His forehead was creased in thought, and he looked much older than he had two years ago, when she was sleeping in the maid’s quarters at his house. He looked tired. But he was smart, and educated, and had some solid experience under his belt, if he had worked side by side with his dad for the couple of years after he finished school, but before Bob had died…

  “Thanks again.” Jane turned to leave, not wanting to waste any more of his time.

  Jake caught her by the elbow as she turned to go. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Don’t underestimate yourself, Jane Adler.” He brushed her ear with his lips, like a kiss, almost, maybe, and then let her leave.

  9

  Jane hunkered down over her table at Starbucks. She was making a master list of the notes Jake had sent. She had a feeling the people who hadn’t responded to Jake’s email, but had come to the party anyway, were the ones to keep her eye out for. She lined out a theory and considered it: Someone knew about the party, and knew that Sasha Henry had invited Michelle Smith. That someone would have had to know enough about the event to know where to go and when, hence the idea that they had an invitation. If they had gone with the express intent to kill, they would not want it known that they were there…so…no RSVP.

  Was that too simple?

  She wouldn’t know until she tested it.

  And the funeral would be a decent way to test it…if the person was well enough known by Sasha Henry to know that Sasha was bringing Michelle, he or she would need to be at the funeral for the sake of good appearances. And, if they wanted it known that they were at the funeral, grieving, they would definitely sign the guest book. So someone on Jake’s list of people he noticed at the party and had invited, but didn’t RSVP, who also happened to sign the guest book, would be someone to look into for motives.

  Jane smacked her head. What a convoluted idea. That might possibly be the slowest way ever to find out who might have had a motive.

  And yet, it was all she had so far.

  Unless of course the killing was related to Michelle’s supposed time with HLP. Jane would have to uncover Bang-Bang Bambi’s Dead’s real identity if she wanted to know how seriously to take that bit of information.

  She drummed her fingers on the table. Jake was smart, could he help with cyber spying? She sucked in a breath. He was networking smart—business-savvy smart. She didn’t see any signs he could hack it as a hacker.

  She scrolled through the contacts on her phone. She was a college-educated (well, almost) twenty-something. Surely she knew someone who could do a little cyber spying.

  Ben!

  His name on her contact list was a happy surprise. Gemma’s stepbrother. He was a tech guy. Designed websites and stuff. He even worked for that Realtor for a while…the one she had met that time the dryer caught fire.

  Be
n would know how to find out who Bang-Bang was. She texted him a begging message.

  While Ben could be of some help, there was one person who would know if Michelle Smith had been an HLP protester.

  Rose of Sharon Willis.

  She googled Rose of Sharon Willis and HLP. First hit: an HLP Facebook page.

  Jane snickered. Of course it would be Facebook. HLP was kind of old-fashioned like that. She “liked” the page and then sent a private message asking Rose of Sharon if she had time to get together. She suggested Sprouted Quinoa, a little vegan raw-food café not far from her apartment. Surely Rose of Sharon wouldn’t turn down free raw vegan food.

  She sipped her coffee. Her fingers twitched and her heart was racing. She was both overcaffeinated and anxious. She had hit the waiting-game part—would her contacts come through for her? Maybe, maybe not. But if she wanted to solve the murder (and keep her heartache at bay), she had to keep moving.

  She had one more obvious move she could make while waiting to hear back from Ben and Rose of Sharon. The event center might well have security footage of the event. As a private detective (in training), it behooved her to ask if she could view it, so, coffee cup in shaking hand, she headed to the Shonley Center.

  ***

  The event center was an echoey concrete building with high ceilings, faded carpet, and many long halls. It had been built long before she was born—like the 1980s or something—and was showing its age. The dusty smell of an old heating system reminded Jane of the basement of her Bible school. She hummed along to the Peanuts Christmas song while she looked for the security office.

  A couple of the many, many spaces were in use. A guy about her age in black khaki pants and a white polo shirt rolled a dolly full of folded tables into a room by the front door. She followed him.

  “Hey!” She waved her hand as she called out.

  He looked her up and down, and then grinned. “Yeah?”

  “Is there, like, an office around here?” Her voice had instantly gone valley girl on her, and she wanted to bite her tongue off. Instead, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and hated herself a little more. She wasn’t trying to look like an idiot, but she was sure managing to like a pro.

  “Like a business office?” The guy frowned.

  ‘”Yeah, like that.” She smiled and tilted her head. She straightened it up with a jerk. She would swear off coffee forever if she couldn’t pull herself together.

  “I dunno.” He leaned on the handle of his dolly. “I’m just here to set up for the model railroad convention. But I’m off in half an hour.” He lifted his eyebrows and gave a kind of bro nod.

  “Bummer.” She shrugged and left.

  While this convention facility wasn’t the great big one with the pointy towers, it was still big enough that Jane was lost within minutes.

  Jane was about to give up and take the first exit she could find, when she ran into an older man wearing a vacuum backpack and headphones.

  She got as close as she could and tapped his shoulder.

  He shut off his vacuum. “Can I help you?” He had a kind smile and a bushy mustache.

  Jane smiled and wrung her hands. The obnoxious valley girl seemed to have been replaced by a simpering child. She tried to pull herself together again. Square her shoulders and all that. Detective. She was a professional detective. “Yes, thank you.” She was still grinning, but at least she wasn’t rubbing the toe of one shoe with the other. She had both feet firmly on the ground like an adult. “I’m looking for the security office.”

  The man nodded towards the elevator. “Gotta git yourself upstairs, and then take a left. Then go a long ways. All the way around almost. But if you just keep following the hall, you’ll get there.” He went back to vacuuming before Jane could ask him if anyone would be there.

  But she followed his directions.

  The hall was long, and quiet, and spooky. The main overhead lights were off, so the hall was lit with low, energy-efficient lights recessed into the ceilings above each door.

  She shivered.

  She was glad she had mace clipped to her keychain.

  The hall felt like a marathon, her heart raced so hard, but eventually she had made it around the corner to a large double door marked “Security.” She knocked, and then opened it up.

  “Hi.” A girl who looked about Jane’s age, but was quite a bit taller and wore a crisp security uniform, smiled at Jane. She was alone in the office. “Can I help you?”

  The office was a brightly lit, modern space. Long, clean counters flanked on three sides by walls covered in flat-screen televisions, each one zoomed at a different setting. Almost every screen showed an eerily silent room, but the effect was still dizzying.

  Jane sat down.

  “I’m Jane. I’m a private detective working on the Fro-Yo Murder case on behalf of the folks who threw the fundraiser.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m Beth.” The security girl rolled her chair around to face Jane. “The police have already seen all the footage we have of the event. Have you talked to them about it yet?” Her face seemed open and friendly, but something about the question made Jane think she would have to prove herself to security.

  Jane sat up a little straighter. “No, I wanted to go for firsthand sources before I got the police’s opinion on the facts.”

  “Sure. Okay. I can’t show you the footage though. The police had a warrant for it.”

  Jane nodded. “I understand.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. So many things she would have known if this murder had taken place at the end of next semester instead of now. “So, were you on that night?”

  “Nope, but Del, my boyfriend, was.” Beth had a promising twinkle in her eye.

  Jane leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Did he see anything suspicious?”

  “Well…” Beth eyed the wall of screens before turning back to Jane. “There was this weird kind of shadowy figure in the corner of the room. It looked like someone dressed in dark clothes and leaving quickly, right after the woman screamed.”

  “Did he show you the footage?”

  “Of course. We all saw it. We have to keep our eye out for anyone we saw in the video returning to the center. Of course, we are really looking for that shadowy figure who left, but between you and me, I don’t know how we’d recognize the person again.”

  Jane scanned the wall of televisions. “How many cameras are in that room?”

  “Just the one. It’s center on the wall with no exit and has a panoramic of the room.”

  “And you all had to watch all of that footage, right?”

  “Yup. We did. We watched it several times. In particular, we were looking to see if we could spot the shady-looking character near the victim, and maybe also coming toward the victim.”

  “You know, I was there that night, and though it was crowded, it didn’t seem overwhelming.”

  “It was pretty mellow at the beginning of the video, but as soon as the protesters came inside, it got a little crazy. From the camera’s POV, it was like a room full of little mobs. Gestures got bigger, voices got louder, large groups sort of formed out of the couples and individuals. It was a lot harder to sort through than I expected.”

  “But did you see more of this shady figure?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Jane watched Beth’s face. She looked like she had more to say. “Did you see anything suspicious?”

  “Yeah, see, this figure kind of steps out from behind someone like a shadow.” Beth pointed at one of the televisions. “So the room is mostly dark now, but can you see how the angle is funny? We couldn’t really see full bodies of anyone, and even faces were hard to spot, since people were moving around. So everything looked tense, but not strange, and then this person in dark clothes with a dark scarf on, or maybe a wig, kind of steps from crowd to crowd and then leaves. But it went really fast. I almost think she ducked, threw something over her head, and snuck out.”

  “So you are thinking a girl?”

&
nbsp; “It was hard to tell height or anything, but the person seemed smaller, and the scarf was feminine.”

  “So a girl, or a man with a slight build disguised as a woman.” Jane drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “If it was a man in a dark sweater or something, and he threw a wig or a scarf over his head, we would all think he was a woman. I sure wish I could see it.”

  Beth shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to show this stuff to just anyone.”

  Jane stood up. “Can I come by again sometime if I think of anything else to ask? Or take you out for coffee?”

  “Sure.” Beth walked Jane to the door. “I don’t mind talking to you about it all, but I don’t want to risk my job or anything.” She handed Jane a card. “So call and we can get together.”

  “Thanks so much. I appreciate it.”

  “I’d walk you out, but I’m not allowed to leave until my partner gets back from the bathroom. But hey, I’ll walkie Del and he can walk you out. It’s a little creepy around here these days.”

  “Ah, thank you.” Jane headed down the long, too-quiet hallway with one eye out for Del.

  10

  Del met her at the elevator. He was kind of a small guy himself, but since he was stuck in the TV room the night of the event, he probably wasn’t the mystery killer. Jane noted his slight build and dark hair. Surely, if it had been Del in the video, Beth would have recognized him. But…what if? She smiled, a nervous flutter dancing in her stomach. What if he had slipped out of his office and stabbed Michelle?

  Del held the door of the elevator and motioned for Jane to get in. She didn’t know where the stairs were…and she wasn’t sure that a dark, far-off staircase with a potential killer was a better idea than the elevator.

  “Get in.” Del’s voice was quiet but rough. He frowned.