good-looking as Jane remembered. He was probably a few years younger than she, but, according to the gossip columns, that didn't matter these days. She wondered briefly what sort of money he made, but then quickly reminded herself she wasn't looking for someone to marry, just someone to date occasionally.
Maybe.
She hadn't been on a date since she met Steve. Eighteen years ago! What did people do on dates these days? She was pretty sure the old kiss-on-the-third-date rule didn't apply, but did everybody just hop into bed with everyone now? Oh, dear. That would put her at a real disadvantage. She'd be a Victorian in a time warp. Imagine letting someone you hadn't known intimately for years see your stretch marks. Horrors! Besides, if she ever did go out with somebody like this, the fun of it would be in being seen with him. And then there were the kids to consider..
“Mrs. Jeffry?”
She had the feeling he'd spoken to her more than once. 'Sorry, I was just thinking about — something.'
“I know this must be very upsetting to you both,' he said.
Let him think it was murder on her mind, not sex. 'Of course. But you must call me Jane. 'Mrs. Jeffry' makes me feel very old.'
“Okay,' he said with a charming smile, but he didn't offer his first name. 'And you're Shelley, aren't you?'
“Yes,' Shelley answered, but the look in her eyes said, 'Mrs. Nowack to you, buddy.”
Oh, dear. If Shelley had taken a dislike to him, Jane figured she'd better give up on him. It wouldn't be a bit of fun giggling girlishly over a conquest that your friend didn't approve of. 'Now, what did you want to talk to me about?' she asked him.
“First, I wanted to fill Mrs. Nowack in on what we've learned.”
So he had caught that expression and duly noted it. Good for him.
“Mrs. Jeffry suggested that the regular cleaning woman probably was the intended target. That's simply a theory, of course. She has no proof. But it is something to consider and discard—'
“Discard!' Jane exclaimed. 'You know perfectly well there's absolutely nothing questionable about Mrs. Thurgood's past. Unless you're lying to us and the newspapers about her. Are you?'
“Why would we need to do that?'
“And you know by now what mixed reviews Edith gets,' she went on.
“Mixed reviews?'
“Some of our friends who are very good housekeepers think the world of her,' Shelley explained, 'and others who are… well, slobs, to be honest, didn't think she did a very good job.'
“And which are you, Mrs. Nowack?'
“She's only worked for me once and I didn't think she did a very good job.'
“And you?' he asked Jane. 'I understand she was at your house the day after the murder.'
“I'm one of the slobs who didn't think she did a terribly good job,' Jane replied honestly. 'I mean, she did the minimum well enough, but no more.' He hadn't admitted that her theory had any merit, but at least he was asking questions about Edith. Certainly that meant he was coming around to her way of thinking.
“What conclusions do you draw from this discrepancy?' he asked.
“What an odd question,' Shelley said. 'Why should our conclusions matter? It's yours that count. What do you think — or aren't you allowed to say?”
That put him in an obviously uncomfortableposition. He stirred his coffee, cocking his head at her as if considering how much he ought to say. The silence grew longer, and Shelley's original animosity seemed to be growing.
Jane — wisely or not — took matters in her own hands. 'I can't speak for anybody, but I think she was blackmailing customers — or ex-customers. I haven't figured out which.'
“Why do you think that?' His tone was pleasant. Almost amused. Or did Jane just imagine a patronizing tone?
“Because the one time she did work for me, I believe she broke into a locked drawer in a room I asked her not to go into.”
She was rewarded with a smile. A genuine, dimple-flashing smile. She nearly slipped off her chair.
“Tell me more about it,' he said.
Jane did. She tried to go easy on the domestic aspects of glasses repair kits and files of report cards and envelopes with baby teeth the tooth fairy had brought. He listened in silence.
“So nothing was missing, but you're sure the contents were disturbed?'
“Fairly sure. But there's no proof.'
“We could fingerprint the drawer, but you probably smudged any that might have been there.'
“Sorry,' Jane said automatically.
“It's all right. It wouldn't have proved anything anyway. Just confirmation of your suspicion. By the way, you might be interested in knowing that Edith isn't doing any of her jobs this week. She called in and said she was having a bad spell with a wisdom tooth.'
“Ahh, so you think she's figured the same thing and is scared?' Jane asked.
He acted as if he hadn't heard the question. Turning his attention back to Shelley, who'd started tapping her spoon lightly on the table while staring thoughtfully out the kitchen door, he said, 'We've checked on all the service vehicles seen that day in the neighborhood. All were legitimate. Furniture deliveries, plumbing repairs, and so forth. There were also three people seen walking the block that we know of. One was a woman collecting for charity, another was an insurance adjuster working a fire-damage claim, and the third was a paper boy home from school with chicken pox, but out making his collections. All of them were exactly what they claimed to be. The only other people known to be near this house were the ladies who brought the food.”
He left it at that for the moment, giving them time to draw the obvious conclusion.
In an intellectual way, Jane was gratified to have her own suspicions confirmed. At the same time, she felt her heart constrict. It was one thing to jabber about something like this with Shelley; it was altogether a different matter when an officer of the law all but told them one of their acquaintances was a potential murderer. She wanted badly to go back to the old wandering-maniac theory.
In spite of the cherry sweater and the bright shaft of sunlight coming through Shelley's sparkling windows, Jane began to shiver. This wasn't a game and it didn't matter if VanDyneliked them or not. He had to know the truth. 'Shelley, tell him about the pearls.'
“No, Jane.'
“What pearls?' VanDyne asked.
“Shelley had a strand of pearls that were stolen,' Jane said. 'She didn't want you to know because she didn't want her husband to know they were gone.'
“Jane, I wish you hadn't said that. I told you I knew who took the pearls.'
“Who?'
“Paul.”
Fourteen
'Your husband stole your pearls?' VanDyne asked.
“Technically, they are his and no, he didn't steal them. He took them — to be cleaned and appraised,' Shelley explained. She was actually blushing, something Jane had never seen happen. 'I told Jane earlier I was supposed to have put them in the safe-deposit box and I didn't. I discovered after the murder that they were missing, and I didn't want my husband to know I hadn't taken care of them.'
“That's why you didn't tell me when I asked if anything was missing?' VanDyne asked. He was a little curt. Almost disgusted.
“Because of that and because I had no idea when they disappeared. They could have been gone for a year. Jane, that's what Paul was calling about a few minutes ago. I guess I kept staring at that drawer, and he noticed. He called to tell me not to worry.'
“Were they real?' Jane asked.
“No. High-grade fakes, though. With some value just because they're good antique imitations.'
