Dirty Little Murder (23 page)

“Amy…” Jane shook her head. She watched Stephanie as shock and horror flooded her features. As her mom failed to deny the accusation, Stephanie’s rigid frame shook until her legs looked like they were going to buckle. She sat again, next to her mother, but not touching her.

It was Matthew.

Jane knew it now.

Danae still loved
Douglas
.

Stephanie had had no reason to hate her family benefactor.

But Matthew… Jane’s mind spun as the pieces fell into place. His awkward posture and need to leave the house quickly. His absence from the house while Caramel sorted the things. His comment about his love life being no one’s business.

“Did you tell him, Danae? When Stephanie started talking about her new relationship?”

“Yes.” Danae inhaled deeply. “He was so much older than her, I never thought she’d need to know.”

“Matthew can’t be my brother,” Stephanie whispered.

“Well, he is, obviously.” Amy sat down on a foot stool. “I guess we can all thank God he lived so far away.”

“We weren’t dating… yet,” Stephanie said.

“But you were both in love, weren’t you? He lived far away at some school, and you lived in
Seattle
. You emailed each other and talked on the phone and fell in love.” Jane knew exactly what that felt like, and her heart broke for Stephanie. “But Danae, you got hold of Matthew and told him the truth.”

“Yes, I had to. I could see how serious she was about him. Her heart was going to break, and it needed to happen fast.” She rested her forehead on Stephanie’s shoulder. “Oh, baby, I am so sorry. I should have told you the truth all along.”

“Amy, how long has Matthew been in town?” Jane licked her lips.

Amy wiped a tear away.

“Amy…you see what I see, don’t you?” Jane nodded toward Stephanie.

“He’s a good guy, Jane.” Amy held the cuff of her shirt under her nose. “He’s a really good guy.”

“But one phone call ruined his dreams, right?”

“Oh, Jane, he came home two days before Dad died! He didn’t know I knew, but Caramel saw him in the garage with Dad, and she told me.”

“And then one morning, he came by, and he talked your Dad into hopping into the hot tub with him, just to relax and hang out.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he would.”

“He wouldn’t have, he wouldn’t have.” Stephanie’s voice was almost silent.

“Hello, I need the police.” Gemma had her cell phone to her head.

“Please don’t.” Amy’s words faded to nothing.

“We need to tell them what we know,” Jane said. “The police can decide if we are right or not.”

“Please,” Danae said. “Please, can I be alone with her now?”

Jane stood up. “I’ll go. I’m so sorry.”

Gemma followed her out, giving details of what they had learned to the police.

Gemma chattered, fast and furious, about what had happened and how bad her shoulder hurt as they drove away. Jane didn’t listen.

Solving mysteries uncovered so much ugliness. Did she really want to do that with her life? Didn’t she want to clean sin with the gospel instead? Or just simply clean dirt for her clients? So much hurt and ugliness in the world. Was she strong enough to do this?

And what if no one could ever prove her theory was correct?

“I am going to need to seriously alternate hot and cold on this shoulder,” Gemma said. “I can’t believe how much it hurts!”

Jane glanced at the injured shoulder; it was deep red and already swollen. “What you need is a frosty cold smoothie.”

The drive to the mall
would have been quiet if Jane had had her way. But Gemma recounted every moment of their confrontation at a 100 words per minute. By the time they arrived at the mall Jane was ready to abandon Gemma to the first person she saw.

That person was Jake. “This is my cousin Gemma, and she has suffered a serious injury in the name of justice. What drink do you suggest for heroes?” Jane pushed her cousin forward.

Jake looked Gemma up and down. He whistled. “Jane’s cousin, eh? Then let me mix you a special.”

“I’m allergic to strawberries,” Gemma offered. She looked over at Jane, one eyebrow lifted. “He’s cute,” she whispered.

“Gemma’s a doula with a heart for God,” Jane said.

“Work with pregnant ladies and stuff?” he asked as he handed over two smoothies.

“Usually.” Gemma sipped her drink. “That’s good.”

“Make sure to get your free smoothies while you can, Gem. Jake’s moving back to
Thailand
soon to rescue women from sex slavery.”

Gemma smiled at Jake. “I’ll be sure to come back while I can.”

Jake winked at Jane. “I know what you did there.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to make the world a better place.” She led Gemma from the food court. Now that she had distracted her cousin and calmed her down a bit, what she really wanted was wise counsel. “I’m going to go see my mentor. Would you like to come?”

“Nah. I need to get home. I’ll pack up Stephanie’s stuff so she can be ready to leave as soon as she shows up.” Gemma sipped her drink. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For letting someone into our house who was planning to hurt you.”

In her heartache for Stephanie, that part had slipped her mind. “How could you know? I don’t blame you.”

Jane took Gemma back to the apartment and then went to Paula’s without calling first.

Paula answered her door in her bathrobe. Her face was haggard, with deep shadows under her eyes. “Please, come in.” She managed a small smile.

Her house was immaculate. “Thank you for letting me drop by. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s okay. You’re just what I need today.” Paula poured two cups of coffee and then joined Jane in the living room. “I’m a little rough today. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The stress of the morning, the fear and sadness, and now a grief that pierced her as she looked at Paula brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s hard to change from caregiver to someone who needs care.” Paula tucked her feet under her and relaxed back into her chair. “You have something weighing heavily on your heart. It’s written all over your face. But can I share something with you?”

Jane sipped her coffee. “Of course.”

“All of my life, I knew I was going to be a wife.” She choked on her words a little. “While at school, my friends all got married. The ones I was most jealous of got married and then went on the mission field. I’d ask God why I hadn’t met my husband yet and He wouldn’t answer. I went to
India
and I worked for what felt like my whole life. At no point in my life did I ever feel like God was telling me I was going to be single forever, but I have to say, turning forty as a single woman made me wonder just a little.”

Jane couldn’t take her eyes off of Paula.

“And then one year, I came home on furlough and I met Mark. And God said, ‘This is why you hadn’t met your husband before now.’”

Jane didn’t have any words, but she felt like the discoveries of the morning were somehow smaller than whatever Paula had to say.

“And, Jane, I feel like this is you. You will be a missionary someday. I wouldn’t dare predict when, or where, or for how long. Maybe you will be like my mom and dad and spend a lifetime together. Or maybe you’ll be like Mark and I.”

Jane chewed on her bottom lip.

“I waited a long time, but it was perfect. It was short, but it was perfect.” Paula wiped her eyes with a white handkerchief. “That’s all. You may have to wait. And it may not be what you expected. But if you really do believe God wants this for you, it will happen, and it will be exactly what it was supposed to be.”

Jane’s mouth felt sealed shut. She had a thousand questions, from how Paula and Mark met to why she had come home from the mission field to how she dealt with the disappointment for all those years while she waited, but she couldn’t speak. Paula’s face was beatified, almost. She was broken, but her eyes shone with a glow that only comes from trusting and waiting your whole life. It would be twenty more years before Jane could understand the real answers to her questions.

“You wanted to talk about something though, right?” Paula pushed her handkerchief into her pocket. “Even though you aren’t looking at full time missionary work right now, I’d be proud to continue to mentor you.”

“I’m okay.” The words came out before Jane could weigh what she wanted to say. “I had a rough morning, but I think you just answered all of my questions.” She set her cup on the coffee table and stood up. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Paula hugged Jane tight. “Thank you, kiddo. I really needed you guys right now. You don’t know how much.”

Later that week, the news reported an arrest in the case of the death of Douglas Swanson. His son had been taken in for questioning. He hadn’t confessed, but the news report online said that there was possible
DNA
evidence connecting Matthew Swanson to the scene of the crime, as well as physical evidence in the trunk of his rental car. Jane was pretty sure that would be the missing hamper and towels.

Gemma, Amy, Danae, Stephanie, and Jane herself had all been down to the station to report what had happened at the pool house. Making statements was becoming second nature to Jane.

She had Isaac on speaker phone while she doodled logos at her desk. He was talking about the school in
Montreal
. “If you stay in
Portland
to finish your degree, you need to start your French classes right away.”

Jane erased a magnifying glass she had put over her name. “Yup. I registered for it today.”

“You did?”

“Of course. If I have to learn a new language, I’d better start now.”

“So you’re dead set on staying in
Portland
one more year?” Isaac was crunching something. Jane liked to think it was chips and salsa, since that’s what she was eating.

“Did you really think I’d move to
Canada
with you before we were married?”

“Not
with
me, but I did think there was a chance you’d transfer there to stay close.”

“If wishes were horses.” She drew a stick figure in a Sherlock hat, then scribbled it out. She thought about making a joke about a family discount on credits, but she wasn’t going to say a word about marriage until he did.

“I’ll come back a lot.”

“On a teacher’s wages?”

“I’ll come back as much as I can.”

“We’ll buy stock in Skype.”

“Good move.”

Jane checked her watch. It was time to meet with the advisor for the Portland State University School of Criminal Justice. French wasn’t the only thing she was adding to her schedule this year. “I’ve got to run. I love you.”

“I love you, Jane. Call me when you get back, okay? I want to hear all about detective school.”

And so did she. She might not start all over again, but if she was going to solve any more murders, she wanted to do it right.

Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery is free at Amazon!

Mitzy Neuhaus pulled her desk chair up to the microphone. The radio booth was small, and Johnny, her host, nudged her with his elbow, and smiled. Mitzy slipped her headphones on.

Johnny Headly, host of the morning show on the local Christian talk radio station began his morning chatter. “Hey, Mitzy, baby. How’s the real estate business?” It was the same every Wednesday morning.

She smiled her wide, bright smile. “Business is good, John. Not fast, not hectic, not for the fearful, but good.”

“How can it be good, Mitz?”

“It’s not perfect, of course.” Mitzy shifted in her seat. “But there are great deals and brilliant Realtors ready to find you one. If you have some equity or savings and are ready to make a move, the best Realtors are reading and waiting.” Mitzy wasn’t just putting a good spin on a bad economy. If only people would grab the houses while they could, Realtors could save the economy.

“Mitzy is ready and waiting? That sounds too good to be true,” Johnny drawled.

Mitzy cringed. How did he manage to make that sound so dirty? “Ready and waiting—to sell a house, Johnny.” She wished the radio audience could see her roll her eyes. “It’s all about the money, friend. If you need to get out of your house, a good Realtor can still make you some money. And good Realtors are available.”

“Mitzy, I’ve been dying to know for years; are you available? And can I change that?”

“If you need your house sold, John, I’m your girl. Anything else…well, leave your card with my assistant.” Mitzy scrunched her nose at Johnny.

He winked.

“But speaking of experienced professionals in the homes industry, I want to spotlight my professional peers who work tirelessly in the mortgage business.”

“Not those devils that wrecked the economy.”

“Of course not! The economic crisis has sifted the wheat, and the chaff has blown away. The sub-prime creative loan element has been kicked to the curb.” Mitzy leaned in to the
mic
and lowered her voice. “But rates are
sooo
low. If you have any equity, my friends can save you some serious cash each month. I have links on my website to my recommended lenders.” Mitzy leaned back in her desk chair and popped her shoulders. She could run on about the industry forever.

John gave her the keep going signal.

“Listen, it’s 2008. Interest rates are less than five percent. Don’t sit there with a 2007 mortgage at seven percent. That’s foolish.”

“Preach it, sister.” Johnny nodded his head in time to music only he could hear.

“My job for you all today is this: consider the terms of your current loan, contact your local credit union or check out the links on my website, and see if they can do better for you. It is always the right time to save tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Thank you, Mitzy. You make common sense look real good.” Johnny chuckled.

“Thank you?” Mitzy laughed. “I know I talk sense, but if it were common, I don’t think our economy would be in such a mess.”

With that her spot was over. She turned off her microphone, waved through the window at the producer, and slipped out of the booth.

Johnny read the police reports from the
Vantage
Heights
neighborhood for a few quick laughs.

Mitzy didn’t laugh when she thought of
Vantage
Heights
.

Yes, they called the police when the new neighbor put up a basketball hoop and yes, they called 911 when someone parked a
Kia
on their block, but too many of them were losing their homes because they never should have bought them in the first place.

She stifled a laugh as she left the radio station. The week
Vantage
Heights
biddies called 911 on the neighbor who planted corn in the front lawn was pretty funny. But those old biddies weren’t the ones losing their homes.

The radio station was hurting now, the same way all the local businesses were hurting. Advertising dollars were short all around. As Mitzy pounded the pavement back to her penthouse, she thought it was probably a good time to negotiate for a better spot.

She wanted a larger audience share, but she didn’t have the time to be on the radio everyday. She considered the Saturday morning line-up. They called it ‘The Fix-it Show.’ She could seriously improve that program. If it was Neuhaus’ All Things New Show or maybe Fixing Your House with Neuhaus, they could keep all of their regular programming and add another spot for her.

But owning the fix-it weekend wasn’t exactly right either. Mitzy wanted to inform and educate and there just weren’t enough people listening to the radio these days.

And then Mitzy knew.

She went straight home and sat down for a late breakfast with her
Tivo
-ed morning shows. She savored her cup of coffee as she evaluated the
First Things with Alma and Bob
. They were funny. They were local. They seemed to have their fingers on the pulse of town. Mitzy had always liked their show.

Everything on their program clicked, except they skirted around the issue of the failing economy. They needed Mitzy and her keen real estate sense.
First Things with Alma and Bob
was exactly where she needed to be. She tucked this tid-bit into the back of her mind, cleared her dishes and made her way to the office, just on time, for a Wednesday.

Sabrina, Mitzy’s assistant, sat at her computer studying the multiple listing service site for any recent activity.

Ben, the graphics artist, was sketching something in his pad. It made no difference to Mitzy what he was working on, but it probably had something to do with his web design consulting.

Joan, the stager Mitzy loved the best, was in just to chat, but found that there was nothing to talk about.

Mitzy paced the room, drumming her pencil on her fist, and chewed on the idea of breaking into television.

Sabrina would be of use in whatever she did. Ben’s work probably wouldn’t increase, but if she could increase confidence in the marketplace, all of their regular work would return to normal.

Joan.

She appraised her friend closely. Joan was artistic, no doubt. She was also well-spoken. Mitzy could put Joan on the air in her morning show segment, and Joan could get commission work from the exposure.

There was nothing wrong with her television idea, as far as she could tell.

“Sabrina, I need a proposal. We need to get our Neuhaus New Homes Spotlight onto
First Things with Alma and Bob.
”

“Ooh, I like that idea,” Joan said. “Mitzy, that’s just the right medium for you. You could spotlight some of your favorite houses, give tours, everything.”

“I could,” Mitzy said.

“But you have something else in mind.” Joan raised an eyebrow and leaned in close.

“I think that this town needs to relax and gain confidence in their ability to survive the crisis. They really can survive, you know.” Mitzy swept her arm out towards the city on the other side of the window, longing to give them all a hand up.

“Marketplace confidence through
First Things
? Really, Mitz? We have twelve percent unemployment right now. Who cares what Alma and Bob think about it?” Ben rocked back in his desk chair.

“Ah, but, Ben, that’s close to the same thing as eighty-eight percent employment.” Mitzy chewed on the end of her pencil. “There are a lot of people out there with secure jobs, and the ability to invest in their town. They’ve just got to realize they can do it themselves.”

“You can call the show
Bootstrapping with Mitzy the Republican.
”
Ben smirked.

“It’s not a political idea, Benjamin.” Mitzy shook her head. “Let’s say your business has just received some money, stimulus money.” Mitzy sat down on the edge of her desk. “Say you are building a new community center. The people in charge need to view that money, not in the light of how much building they can get for it, but as how far they can spread the money into the economy, to create more jobs.” Mitzy’s heart was racing, her face was heating up. It was one of her personal goals to make Ben less of a pessimist.

“Yeah, yeah. We all know that already.”

“But it’s the same for people who have savings and business reserves. This is the time to spend our money employing people.” Mitzy started pacing again and drumming her purple fingernails on her tightly clenched fist. “The segment needs to be fun, and touring homes is fun. But it has to increase consumer and investor confidence, or it is completely worthless.”

The phone rang. Sabrina jumped at the sound. “Neuhaus New Homes. This is Sabrina speaking, how may I help you?” She wore her big smile as she spoke. It was Neuhaus policy; the person on the other line could hear the smile. “Thank you, can you hold?”

She covered the receiver with her palm and looked up at Mitzy with a little fear in her eyes. “It’s Alonzo.”

Mitzy grimaced. She had a desk in the front with her staff, but she also had a private office where she could sign papers with clients. She rarely did other business in that office. She turned on her heel and disappeared into it now.