“Janey, you look beat," Uncle Jim said, looking up from the problem he and Todd were solving. "Why don't you go on to bed? The kids and I will finish here and lock up for the night.”
She eagerly took him up on the offer. Upstairs, she straightened up her bedroom, then stripped the wounded bed and remade it with fresh sheets. Soon enough she'd have to figure out what to do about the hole in the mattress, but not tonight. She got out her most treasured, expensive bath oil and took a long, hot soak. She tried not to think, but it was impossible to completely clear her mind. This peaceful, domestic evening had relaxed some of her tensions, but she could feel new ones coiling.
It was awfully nice to have a man in the house again. Aside from all the frightening events that had brought him here, it was comforting to know that, for once, another responsible adult was going to make sure the kids went to bed at a decent hour, lock up the house, and make sure Willard went out one last time. Jane hadn't fully realized the burden she'd been carrying as the only adult in the family until she'd gotten this brief opportunity to lay down a few of those tasks.
She wasn't the only one who appreciated Uncle Jim's presence. The kids were obviously thrilled to have him. Sunday visits were a different matter — on Sundays he was a guest, her guest. Tonight he belonged here, belonged to them.
Those children need a father, a voice inside her said.
“Damn you, Steve!" she said out loud to the bathroom she'd shared with him until a few months ago. "What gave you the right to do this to us?”
And you need a man, the voice added slyly.
“I've had one husband. I don't want another one.”
Not a husband. A man, the voice intoned patiently.
Jane closed her eyes and sank down further in the hot, scented water.
Twenty-one 4
It had been five clays now since Ramona Thur-..' good had been murdered, and Jane was getting desperate for life to return to normal. Tuesday, however, promised to be outstanding as one of the most boring days of her life. Of course, anything would have paled in comparison to the events and revelations of Monday. The contrast was increased by Uncle Jim's watchful presence. He wasn't about to let her out of his protective range without good reason.
At least he, unlike the kids, appreciated the gigantic breakfast she fixed. Willard, who had his big brown eyes peeled for leftovers, was disappointed in the slim pickings. After riding along while Mike drove his car to school, Jim let Jane leave with Katie and again with Todd, apparently feeling there was minimal danger at that hour of the morning.
“I think I'd rather figure out the schedules for the New York subway system than try to unravel your itinerary," he said when she returned from the last morning run.
“It's not so bad when you get used to it. Todd's in a car pool with five kids and five driv‑ ers, so each of us does both back and forth one day a week. Every Tuesday all year is mine. Mike's in with three band members, so I drive his every third week, except today was someone else's turn I had to take and we'll make it up next time it's my week—"
“You'll all remember this driving debt?"
“You bet. It's like a Mafia vendetta. Now, Katie's car pools this year are a little more complicated. She's in with four girls, but two of them are sisters, so I drive three mornings a week, another mother drives three afternoons and the mother of the two drives morning and afternoon on Thursdays and Fridays. Of course, while cheerleading practice is going on the first month, I drive her myself and the other two mothers share equally, except when—"
“Stop! It's as bad as I thought. Worse! Now, is there anything you need done around here? I might as well be useful."
“Good Lord, it's good enough of you to come. I can't put you to work besides." She paused. "I do wonder, however, about the furnace. Do you know anything about furnaces? I have a man coming Friday, but—”
He disappeared to the basement with a final warning that she wasn't to leave the house. Jane got busy with housework that had been neglected since the week before. Four loads of laundry and a clean refrigerator later, she detected the faint burnt-dust odor that signified the furnace had kicked on for the first time in the season. She'd always liked that smell. It meant sweaters and leaf-burning and Christmas shopping and roast pork on Sundays.
Jim emerged from the basement with soot on his face and grease on his fingers. Humming, Jane fixed him coffee and warmed up a cinnamon roll snack while he went out to his car to bring in a briefcase full of paperwork. As soon as he was settled in the living room, she went to her bedroom and made a duty call to Thelma. As she talked with the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, she went through her lingerie drawer, culling the worst of the dingy white-cotton atrocities.
The day dragged on. Jane got out to runacross the street with the recipe card she had promised to return to Mary Ellen, but even that wasn't easy. "Take it back some other time," Uncle Jim advised.
“I have a premonition that this is the last time I'll ever see it. Things like this evaporate in my kitchen. Besides, I won't be in any danger."
“What makes you think that?"
“You tell me how somebody with the use of only one arm could strangle someone with a vacuum cleaner cord and I'll stay home."
“It's not what might happen to you there that worries me. It's the getting there!"
“Uncle Jim!"
“All right! Go!”
She sensed that he was watching her through the front window, so she made it a short visit. She was amused to have caught Mary Ellen, one of the neatest people she knew, with a newspaper and scraps of paper all over the coffee table. Probably cutting out coupons, Jane thought, and smiled a little. Who would have guessed a woman so glossy and professional would cut out grocery store coupons just like normal people?
“Jane, what's happening about that horrible murder?" she asked, scooping up the papers with her good hand as if embarrassed at being caught at such a mundane task.
“I don't know and I don't want to know," Jane said firmly. "It's none of my business. It's up to the police. I've got to get home," she said, suddenly depressed at how this thing had come to be the core of all her conversations. What did they all used to talk about?
Shelley came over and had lunch with them, and persuaded Jim to let Jane go to the grocery store with her. Jane came back and spent the afternoon cooking. Reluctantly, Jim agreed to let Jane pick up Todd's car pool, as long as she took Shelley along. Just as she was leaving, the red MG pulled up.
“I just got a call from your uncle to come talk to him. Why didn't you tell me Jim Spelling was your uncle?"
“You didn't ask and he isn't really. Why? Do you know him?"
“No, but I've heard of him. I'm really looking forward to hearing what he thinks of all this.”
She let him in the house and went to get Shelley. "He's looking forward to hearing what Uncle Jim has to say," she told her friend. "I don't like it. That means he needs help.”
Shelley was cranky. "I'm never going to get my children back. I hope my sister remembers to invite me to their graduations and weddings. I'd have them home now except for Paul. I'm concerned for their safety. He's fanatic about it.”
She was quiet the rest of the way. Jane crammed her grade-schoolers into the back seat and got them all dropped off without Shelley saying another word. When they finally got home, Todd scrambled out and the two women stayed in the car. The MG was gone.
Jane broke the silence. "We have to do something, don't we?"
“I thought you were cured of snooping.”