The sound of high heels on the kitchen floor.The refrigerator door opening.The rattle of a dish lid. The refrigerator door closing.
Jane was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the back of the sofa and wishing she could see. Was her theory right? It had to be. It was the right dishwasher and the wrong dishes.
There was a long silence. The outside door should have opened by now if it was just somebody innocently delivering food and then leaving. The footsteps started again, across the kitchen floor toward the living room. When they hit carpet, they turned into soft scuffs. Jane froze.
This was it. This was the murderer! Suddenly Jane was very, very sorry she'd come back. There was almost nowhere in the world she wouldn't rather be. Jane couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. Was she walking to the stairway now, going up to try again to kill Edith? Beside her, she felt Detective VanDyne stiffen, bunching his muscles as if to spring.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly the sofa moved a little, as if the killer had decided to sit down for a minute and think about what to do next. Horrified, Jane glanced at Van-Dyne. He was looking up. She followed his gaze and found herself looking into a familiar face.
“What the fuck are you two doing back there?" Suzie Williams asked.
Twenty-four
"You have the right to remain silent—”
“No! Stop!" Jane exclaimed.
“—If you give up that right—"
“She's not the one! Stop saying all that stuff!" Jane grabbed VanDyne's arm.
He pulled away. "Mrs. Jeffry, you are interfer-ing
“Please listen. She's not the murderer. I swear it. But if we stand around making all this noise, we might scare off the person who is.”
Again the men filled the room. The vacuum cleaner stopped.
“Have I interrupted something?" Suzie asked, throwing a dazzling smile at the one who'd put the gun in Jane's face. He puffed up his chest and smiled back.
“Mrs. Jeffry, I think you've gone crazy!" Van-Dyne snapped, his professional manner crumbling. "If you don't get out of here right this minute—"
“May I come in?" Shelley said from the basement door. Her clothes were a mess, and there were little green stick-tights spangling her hair.
“Oh, shit!" VanDyne said.
A voice from the top of the stairs said urgently, "Here comes another one, Mel."
“Look, there isn't time to explain, but it all makes complete sense," Jane said quickly. "Just trust me."
“Trust you? You?"
“Please. Just until whoever this is has come and gone. I'll tell you the whole thing and you'll see I'm right. I promise. If you don't agree, I'll sneak back out and not say another word.”
VanDyne stared at her for a long moment, then at Suzie, who was smiling seductively. He looked like he half believed Jane and half wanted to shake her teeth loose.
Everyone stood, petrified, waiting for his decision. Finally he said, through gritted teeth, "It's only a career. What the hell!”
Swiftly, the man in the "Tit for Tat" shirt abandoned his study of Suzie and all but tackled Shelley, shoving her ahead of himself back down the basement stairs. Jane grabbed Suzie's hand and ran around behind the sofa. Mel Van-Dyne was just behind them. They crouched down, VanDyne between them. With the addition of Suzie's gorgeous but substantial presence, it was a very tight squeeze, and in spite of the emotion of the moment, Jane couldn't help but notice how very nice he smelled.
“If it's Robbie, you can't arrest her!" Jane whispered to him.
“Shhh—"
“But you've got to listen. There's no hospital in Oakview, don't you see? And the plastic wrap on the top of Suzie's bowl wasn't even dented.""Be quiet!”
The house fell silent as the kitchen door opened. Again, there was the soft click of footsteps, then the refrigerator door opened. Jane could hear the sound of a dish being removed from the middle shelf and being set on the counter while the larger bowl was put in place. Yes, yes. She'd been right. That's how it had happened before — impossibly happened. A klunk. The heavy bowl, then Suzie's put back in. Jane was thinking of what the teacher had told the blind kids: See with your ears!
Jane held her breath. Mel VanDyne, crouched between them with a protective arm over each—was it protective, or was he just keeping them in place? — was so tense, she could almost feel the electricity of his nerves.
The refrigerator door closed and the footsteps, surprisingly firm — no hesitating, no reconsidering — went across the living room and up the stairs. Mel VanDyne was smiling as he rose, silent and lithe as a cat. He put a finger to his lips and gestured to them to stay put. Suzie and Jane peered over the top of the sofa as he moved across the room. "That's a man!" Suzie whispered.
Suddenly there was the sound of struggle upstairs. Shouts. A woman's scream. Uncle Jim leaped from the closet and headed for the stairs. The "Tit for Tat" man sprang from the basement door and followed. There was a terrible thump, as if someone had thrown the vacuum cleaner, still humming, at a wall.
“God!" Suzie whispered. Her normal high coloring had turned to the yellow-white of parchment. Jane felt sick. Not since the week before had she been truly conscious of the shock of real violence. Most of the time since then, this had been a mental problem. A puzzle of sorts.Very serious, very personal and emotional — God, yes. But not physical.
Jane saw Shelley emerge from the basement and start toward them. She shouldn't do that. Not until it was over. Jane rose to gesture her back, but Shelley was looking toward the stairway and the sounds of her house being torn up. Jane didn't want to shout at her. Even with all the noise upstairs, she might be heard. If she messed this up now, her uncle and Mel Van-Dyne would never get over it. She waved her arms, hoping to get Shelley's attention, but Shelley had stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes and ears locked in horror on the stairway. Jane crept around the end of the sofa and headed for her.
She'd almost reached Shelley when there was a pounding on the stairs, more shouting, bodieshurtling down. Jane whirled just as Mary Ellen Revere, on a dead run with Mel VanDyne only inches behind her, raised her arm in its cast and swung it at Jane's head.
Jane ducked, and Mary Ellen, her fierce swing unstopped, spun around and into VanDyne's arms. She struggled with insane strength for a moment, then suddenly seemed to crumple with exhaustion. Within seconds three men, including Uncle Jim, had hold of her, and VanDyne was barking into a walkie-talkie he'd taken out of his jacket pocket.
Behind them, a man in a Happy Helper uniform was coming down the stairs. His wig had gone askew and the stuffing in his shirt had shifted and he had one "breast" down at his waist. He was rubbing his throat. The "Tit for Tat" man was gallantly helping Suzie up from her position behind the sofa. Jane could hear sirens in the distance.
Mary Ellen's face, as she raised her head and looked at Jane, was flushed. There were stark, white marks around her lips and nose. "You bitch! You knew all along, didn't you? I should have realized you couldn't be as dumb as you always act.”
Jane felt seared by the venom in her voice. She turned away, shaking.
Edith was being led down the steps by a uniformed officer. She shook off his arm and shambled over to Mary Ellen. There was both hate and arrogance in her voice. "You think she's stupid! I never had it so easy as with you. If you ever get out of the clink again, you better not keep a scrapbook about your escape."
“Scrapbook?" Jane said. "Scrapbook! Of course. I thought she was cutting coupons, but she was adding newspaper articles about the murder to it.”