“I know very little about him, although we've worked together over the years. He's an assistant to the man who runs the community relations at the junior college, and always full of ideas to pull the public into taking an interest and supporting the school. He often consults with me when he bags a big name, so the librarycan get the author's books in before the activity.
Jane said, "He told us he was the head of community relations."
“Wishful thinking, perhaps," Miss Winstead said.
“You sound a bit like you're damning with faint praise," Shelley said.
“I must be more transparent than I thought," Miss Winstead said with a chagrined smile. "Ste-fan's charming, but can be a bit aggressive about soliciting funds and grants. But he gets speakers for next to nothing that other, richer schools can't get to speak. I shouldn't say this, but I don't think Stefan is above a couple little white lies if it suits his aim. Ms. Jackson was one of the speakers he got, and I've tried to get her to speak at the library many times and she always said she didn't feel comfortable giving talks. But he got around her somehow. It's a pity she was injured. I was looking forward to hearing about her job."
“Do you know anything about Julie Jackson's life?" Jane asked.
“I see notices in the paper about high-society fund-raising parties, and she is always there on the arm of some rich, eligible man. Always a different one. I suppose it's because it's the 'done thing' in those circles to have an escort."
“Do you know anything about the investigation of the attack on her?" Shelley asked.
“Not a thing. It seems to me an example of a random act of violence.”
Jane and Shelley exchanged looks. When Jane nodded, Shelley said, "I'm not sure how much you know about the attack. There are aspects of it that weren't in the papers. The person who attacked her came through the house, where there were plenty of things to steal, but took nothing, and went straight to the basement she had set up as an office.”
Miss Winstead thought this over and said, "That's very peculiar, isn't it? If it was a robbery, why go straight to the basement? Did she have a safe or something down there that a repair person might know about?"
“We don't know," Jane said. "But the man I date is the investigating officer and he didn't mention a safe. I would think if there was one, he would probably have mentioned it.”
Miss Winstead frowned for a long moment, then said, "You don't think… No, of course not…"
“What?" Jane and Shelley said in unison.
“No, it's absurd. But I just wondered if it might have anything to do with her being scheduled to teach this class."
“How could it?" Shelley asked.
Miss Winstead shrugged elegantly. "I don't know. It just popped into my mind because you were asking me about the people in the class.”
Jane and Shelley both looked stunned. "I suppose in the back of my mind, I was thinking that," Jane admitted. "For no good reason except it happened so close to her giving a talk to this group."
“You think she might be in a position to reveal something about one of them?" Shelley asked.
Jane said, "Maybe. But what could that be? And why wouldn't she sort it out with the person in private instead of in front of witnesses? No, I don't think that would fly."
“But none of us know her personally," Miss Winstead said primly. "I think it's rash to make assumptions. It just as well could be that one of the escorts took himself too seriously, and she rejected him. A crime of passion that has nothing to do with her job.”
The younger women felt like they'd been put in their place, and Jane reverted to what little she knew of the investigation. "Mel, that's the man I know who's the investigating detective, says it was a violent attack, and appeared that the attacker might not have expected her to be there."
“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?" Miss Winstead said with an air of criticism.
“Only because Geneva Jackson left the house with her husband earlier. The sisters look so much alike that the attacker, if he was watching the house, could have mistaken Geneva for Julie. It's only one theory," Jane said, feeling she had to defend Mel's thinking now that she had stupidly given away something she shouldn't have.
Miss Winstead nodded. "I suppose that does make sense. Who reported the attack?"
“I assume Geneva or her husband," Jane said. "They came home and found her injured, I suppose. They were at the house, anyway, when we got there with the misdirected flower arrangement."
“Jane, would you let me know what you learn of the investigation?" Miss Winstead asked.
That put Jane on the spot. She was already feeling like she'd dishonored Mel's confidences and shouldn't say any more.
“I doubt I'll be told any more about the investigation," she fudged. "Mel only mentioned the one idea because he was visiting me a couple hours later to see how badly I'd hurt my foot. Sort of thinking out loud, you know."
“I understand," Miss Winstead said rather formally. Jane was afraid the older woman understood all too well and was insulted.
The moment passed quickly, however, as there was a sudden bolt of lightning and the sound of a hard rain coming down on the roof of the restaurant.
“Nobody predicted this," Shelley said as she pulled aside the little curtain in the booth. "Wow, a real gully washer. I guess we're stuck here for a bit. Does it seem to you that the more technology the weather forecasters get, the more inaccurate they are? It used to be that the weather guy would go out on the roof of the studio and look at the sky and take a guess, and was right half of the time. Now they're wrong most of the time.”
They spent the rest of the brief storm happily deriding local newscasters who had no training in speaking good English. A subject dear to Miss Winstead's heart. "They think notoriety and famemean the same thing. I've heard so many grammatical errors that make me cringe."
“The other day, in the chat segment, one of them said, 'Me and my wife are going on vacation next week,' " Jane put in.
Miss Winstead shook her head sadly. "How utterly ignorant!
Jane was glad the subject of Dr. Julie Jackson and the attack on her had been thoroughly squashed and forgotten.
But she couldn't stop herself from wondering why Miss Winstead had been eager enough to know about the investigation to ask Jane to share Mel's progress. Jane watched as the rain diminished and chided herself for being so suspicious.
Twelve
Jane was worn out from the morning and half the afternoon of traipsing around. She let herself down on the sofa and gently toppled sideways.
“Anything you need?" Shelley asked. "Something really boring to read, so it puts me out.”
Shelley went to the bookshelves and got down a gigantic paperback. "How about The Arms of Krupp?"
“I hate to admit I liked it," Jane said. "I read it the year Todd went to kindergarten and I finally had a whole three hours a day without kids around. I'll try it again."
“I'm starting a roast for you," Shelley said. "Don't worry, I'll be quiet." She went across the driveway to her house, got the roast, and came back. Quietly removing a pan from the cabinet, a cooking bag with seasonings, and a bit of water, she got it in Jane's oven with hardly a sound.
Tiptoeing back to the living room, she saw that Jane was sound asleep with the book open on her chest. There was a sound in the kitchen and Shelley whirled and scurried to the door. Mike had already opened it and was dripping wet.
“Shhh, your mom's sleeping. What happened to you?"
“A downpour at the nursery. They sent most of the clerks home because the forecast is for more rain. I've got to get dry clothes.”
It wasn't until he moved away that Shelley realized that Kipsy had been standing behind him. "I'll bet you're Kipsy, right?" she said. "I was just starting a roast for the Jeffrys' dinner. Sit down and have a soft drink with me while Mike's upstairs. I'm Mrs. Nowack from next door."