“Shelley, it seemed too — I don't know how to put it — too cunning and careful to be the act of a kid. Someone looked for a good tool without any obvious rummaging in the center drawer. And they didn't root around violently in the other drawer either. The disturbance was subtle; I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been suspicious to begin with because the lock was wrong. It's like with your pearls. Somebody seemed to know exactly where to go without messing anything else up.'
“Bad subject.'
“I know you can't talk about it at your end. I was just mentioning it.”
Shelley went on as if jewelry had never been mentioned. 'Well, I think you've pretty well cleared all the other possible suspects, unless you've had any service people in lately. Had anything repaired in the basement?'
“Nobody.'
“Then I think you're stuck with assuming it was Edith.'
“But why? She didn't steal anything.”
“Maybe she was just checking out what there was to steal later on, when you're used to her being around.'
“I don't know — I'm reluctant to believe badly of her. But I think I'm going to fire her anyway, because she depresses the hell out of me.'
“Don't worry, Jane. There are plenty of people who will be delighted to sign up for her. Her customers speak so highly of her.'
“Not everybody.' Jane repeated Dorothy Wallenberg's remarks.
“That's funny. Dorothy's not real fussy. I dropped an earring between her sofa cushions at a party once, and when I reached down, I found an Easter egg. It was a Christmas party. I wouldn't think she'd demand perfection. Do you know what? I think we've both gone a little nutty because of the murder. A week ago we'd have never had a conversation this long over something so trivial.'
“Who are you trying to kid? We once spent a whole hour analyzing Mary Ellen Revere's makeup. Remember?”
Shelley laughed. 'Paul's through with his calls. Gotta go — whhh — I'll think of you over my shrimp salad and raspberry torte.'
“What kind of thing is that to say to a friend who's planning hot dogs and baked beans for dinner?”
When she'd hung up, Jane went to the window and looked out at Shelley's house. The red MG was there again. Poor Detective VanDynehe was probably bored and hungry. Maybe she could make a decent dinner and invite him over. She glanced in the refrigerator. There were possibilities there. But as she closed the door, she caught sight of her reflection in the microwave door.
“Katie!' she called up the stairs. 'Buy me some of those fingernails while you're out, would you? And some mascara and blusher…”
Nine
Mike's marching band was playing at the first football game of the season. Both the musicians and the athletes had been practicing since weeks before school started and were chomping at the bit. He was going out for pizza afterwards with a friend whose parents had rashly bought him a car for his birthday. Mike was making noises as if he was expecting the same bounty to befall him. Jane had tried to make him understand that she could hardly afford to keep her station wagon running now that he was on the insurance. Another vehicle wasn't possible. Of course, there was always the possibility that Thelma would step into the breach, checkbook in hand. The thought made Jane mad, but she could never figure out quite why.
Their departure left Jane alone and at the mercy of the phone. Everyone seemed to feel it was tacky to call Shelley and ask for the gruesome details of the murder. A few had no such delicate feelings, but simply couldn't reach her. They all called Jane. By ten o'clock her mouth felt cottony from talking, and her brain was stewed from repeating the few things she did know over and over. There was really so little to say, so little known.
Each caller seemed to have a theory of her own. The vagrant maniac was a popular theme, possibly because that meant they were safe — how many vagrant maniacs are there, after all? And a vagrant maniac doesn't hang around the neighborhood. He moves on to Dubuque, or Fargo.
A woman from the next block who was active in the John Birch Society was certain it was a Communist plot. Her theory had something to do with oppressed workers, though Jane refrained from pointing out that accusing the 'commies' of killing one of the oppressed hardly made sense.
Another neighbor, having read in the paper that the victim had previously lived in Montana, figured it all had to do with a survivalist group from which Ramona Thurgood had very likely escaped with some kind of secret information.
“But she had a newspaper route and taught Sunday school,' Jane protested to this one. 'Survivalists don't do things like that.'
“Jane, dear, you're too, too naive. They have people in every walk of life. That's what's so insidious. Why, all you have to do is watch the children's cartoons to see that they've infiltrated the toy industry. The cartoons themselves are rife with violence, and then the commercials are for toy soldiers and tanks. Who do you suppose provided the money to make 'Rambo'? They're poisoning the minds of a whole generation. It's pitiful. I suspect we may someday regard this poor woman, who died trying to warn us of their plans, as a genuine heroine.”
Jane hung up, shaking her head in wonder.
The last call was Joyce Greenway. 'I'm so worried about you and the children staying in the house alone.'
“We're not alone. There is a whole mob of us.'
“I mean without a man to protect you. Won't you please come stay with us until this is over?”
Finally, at ten, the phone stopped ringing and Jane was able to settle in to watching an old Katharine Hepburn movie, until Mike got home and bored her with a detailed account of the school football game. She slept soundly that night — no dreams of murder, no dreams at all.
Jane tried to sneak out in the morning to pick Katie and Todd up, but at the first muted jingle of car keys, Mike appeared. 'I'll drive!' he said blearily.
“I thought you were still asleep. In fact, I still think you are.' She gave him a light punch on the arm and he collapsed against the counter.
“Just give me a sec, Mom. I'll be ready.”
The pickups were completed without incident. Todd gave an enthusiastic but exceedingly tedious rundown of Elliot's new acquisitions, with strong suggestions as to which of the same he needed for Christmas. Jane listened patiently, knowing he'd be tired of them by then and have a new list. Then, by February, he'd start compiling yet another. Mike graciously made no critical older-brother comments about the length or content of Todd's accounting.
Katie's fingernails were hideous, and she was positively thrilled with them. 'I think they make my hands look so thin — don't you, Mom?”
Jane thought they looked more like a medical condition than a beauty aid, but took note of the 'Mom' instead of 'Mother' and was effusive in her compliments. Again Mike said nothing. He made a perfectly repulsive noise through his nose, but didn't actually speak.
By the time they pulled in the drive, Jane was thoroughly mellowed by how nice and familyish they were being. They had a late-morning snack that was a cross between breakfast and lunch, then Jane took Todd to his last baseball game of the season.
“You don't need to stay, Mom,' he offered. 'I always stay. Aren't you pitching?'
“Only the first inning. The coach said since we don't have any chance of the championship, he's gonna let
