Stiff, ultratidy Charles Jones certainly wasn't normal. And he was cranky besides. Who knew what grudges he might have held for one or both of the teachers?
Neither was Martha Winstead normal. She was one of the toughest old ladies Jane had ever met. Normally, tough old ladies appealed enormously to Jane because she intended to be one someday, but for some reason Miss Winstead made her uneasy and she couldn't quite figure out why.
Ursula Appledorn was the weirdest of all. Kind but bossy. Smart but nutsy with conspiracy theories.
Arnold Waring was a nice old gentleman with a terrible obsession for keeping his dead wife's memory alive.
And she had no idea what made Stefan Eckert's mind work. He seemed so charming and pleasant on the surface, but came nearest guilt by having sent the flower arrangement to Julie with a message he claimed was innocent, but sounded guilty.
And who could guess what Geneva Jackson and her husband might be up to? They seemed the most likely to be the connection between Julie Jackson and Stewart Eastman. At least Julie, Geneva, and Stewart were in businesses that appeared to overlap. Could that be it? A business deal gone badly wrong? With Geneva the only one still standing and healthy? But strangely, Geneva seemed the most normal of the entire group of gardeners. Though she never spoke, that Jane could remember, of her own gardening tastes and was the only one not to attempt to force Stefan and Arnie to adopt her own tastes.
The kitchen door opened and Mel called out, as he had so often, "Why don't you ever lock your doors? I know you're here somewhere because Shelley's van's in her driveway." As he came into the living room, he exclaimed, "Dear God, that's such a domestic scene!"
“I'm only sewing buttonholes."
“Why did you never tell me? I could use somehelp with buttons," he said, sitting down next to her so her thimble disappeared between the sofa cushions.
“Are you through for the day? Want to reconsider going to a movie?" Jane asking, nipping off a loose thread and picking up the next shirt.
“No, just wanting to share some information with your overly fertile imagination. I checked out the class members as well as I could. Stefan Eckert was once arrested for striking a woman student."
“No!”
Mel shrugged. "Never came to court. The girl finally admitted that her boyfriend was the one who blacked her eye and she blamed Stefan because he was her faculty adviser and was disappointed at her choice of classes. And Miss Winstead wasn't quite telling you the truth about her hatred of Dr. Eastman. She took him to court when her cousin died. Apparently the cousin had inherited a lot of money from an aunt and didn't have a will, so the money went to Eastman. Miss Winstead dragged out a lawsuit for so long that he finally just gave her the money to get her out of his hair. He must have been making a lot of his own money by then."
“So much for an inheritance from an aunt," Jane said.
“Was that what she told you? Cagey old gal." "What about Ursula?"
“A few unproven drug charges and two arrests after she was sent back from Vietnam for not quite following the rules as closely as the army thought she should. The report is very vague. She had an excellent reputation there as a nurse. So I don't know why she was sent home in spite of her objections."
“What about Charles Jones?"
“No blots on his record whatsoever except one late income tax payment."
“I thought he'd be the sort to send in his return early," Jane said, trying to fit a button into a buttonhole she'd made too small.
“And the old boy Arnie had lots of commendations from his job with the fire department. Credited for saving lots of lives. Said to work up a real adrenaline rush at fires and take chances others wouldn't."
“Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Jane said. "Say, Ursula wasn't taking care of Arnie's wife while she was dying, was she?"
“I have no idea.”
Jane said, "Oh, well. It doesn't compute anyway. Nothing happened to either of them. Nor did either make any bad comments about the other. Never mind.”
Mel got up and stretched. "Well, back to the salt mines. You and Shelley apply your overactive imaginations to this information for a while. It'll keep you out of the pool halls."
“Probably not," Jane said. "I might learn to shoot pool with my crutch. Is that legal?"
“Probably not, but give it a shot. See you later. Lock your door." He gave her a slightly more serious kiss than the last time before he left.
Jane was done with the shirts and decided to do what little cleaning she could in the kitchen before the girls started their dinner project. She scared the cats out of the house, trying to wield a floor mop and one crutch. Willard moved into the far end of the living room and woofed pitifully.
She managed to knock over Arnie's flowers, but without breaking the little vase she'd put them in. She also made a tiny dent in the refrigerator door and almost toppled over a kitchen chair. And it didn't look any better when she was done.
Her hands felt sticky and she smelled them.
And a light dawned. Feeble, but a flicker of understanding took fire.
Twenty-eight
Jane sat clown in the living room, turned off the television, and just thought for a long time. Pieces started falling in place. But only if she was right about what she was remembering. She'd been a little obsessed with her foot all week, just like poor old Arnie was obsessed. Maybe she would be as weird as he was if she had to wear the cast for the rest of her life.
It could be anyone, but the one she was thinking about could fit all the requirements if the things she'd seen — and smelled — were right.
She could hardly wait for Shelley to return. Shelley would talk her out of this and she'd be glad. She went back to the kitchen where she could watch for the van to return. And waited. And waited. They must have been making another heavy hit at the grocery. God only knew what they'd fix for dinner tonight.
Shelley came in with a bag of groceries. "Only dessert tonight. Black Forest cake. Had to stop at 241 the liquor store to get Cherry Heering. I've never heard of it."
“We're only eating dessert?"
“No, I'll make a salad and rolls for dinner." "Come outside. I need to run something by you. In private.”
She started by telling Shelley what Mel had said he'd found out about the rest of the class.
“Nothing really there, is there?" Shelley said.
“But while I was tidying the kitchen, I noticed a smell."
“Lysol, probably."
“No. Smell my hand."
“Do I have to?" Shelley sniffed delicately and asked, "Eucalyptus?"
“Nope. Guess again. Close your eyes.”
Shelley sniffed again, eyes closed. "Oh, I know. So what?”
Jane explained.
Shelley objected to every step of Jane's theory, as Jane thought she would.
But Jane said, "All we need to do is make a short visit to Julie's house. A sympathy call. We'll take them some of the girls' cake after dinner. That might be a good get-well present."
“We hardly know her. And your idea is insane. They'll throw us out."
“But what if I'm right? Only Julie will know." "Julie Jackson has amnesia, in case you've forgotten."
“Only about the attack on her. Mel says she re-members everything before she was hurt. And that's what we need to know.”
Katie, Denise, and Jenny were already destroying the kitchen with their early stages of making the Black Forest cake. Jane tried to keep from watching what they were doing. She called Mel from her upstairs extension and confirmed that Julie remembered most things that happened before she was hurt.