"What was she like as a girl? With the rest of you, I think I can guess what you must have been
like, but not with her." Jane was determined to prod information or genuine opinion out of Beth, just for the challenge of the thing. Her brief confession of having her feelings hurt proved it could be done.
"Lila as a girl…." Beth said, "Smart, certainly. A bit snobbish, but she did come from a very old, respected family. I believe she was ambitious, but without any specific focus of ambition, if you know what I mean."
"I think so. But most of us are like that. You're an exception."
"Me?"
"The others say you knew you wanted to be a lawyer even in high school." Jane shook out a fresh sheet and started making the bed.
"1 suppose that's true. It's all so long ago — another life, almost. Another person."
"You feel you've changed so much?" Jane asked, surprised. From what the others had said, Beth seemed to have changed the least.
"Of course! Everybody does. Why, look at yourself. Try to remember how you felt about yourself, your parents, and your friends when you were eighteen. You probably don't feel the same way about any of them anymore."
"That's true. But I'm inclined to think people stay the same more than they change."
"Basic character traits, you mean? Maybe. And some, like Kathy, try desperately to stay the same."
Jane felt dizzy from the circular conversation. Beth wasn't going to let down her guard again. It probably only happened every ten years or so. Maybe shock tactics—
"It must be very difficult for you, staying here where Ted died."
There was a shocked, offended silence. Then surprisingly, Beth answered. "Not as much as I thought it would be. Teenage suicide can be devastating to everybody involved. It was horrible at the time, but as I got older, I realized it really had nothing to do with me. Suicide is always the sole responsibility of the person who commits it. It's characteristic of human nature that we wish to blame others for our problems, but in the end, our problems, or at least the way we deal with them, are our own. Even when they're very severe. Why in this case I'm studying — well, never mind. I didn't mean to get philosophical," she added with a laugh. "I'd better get out of your way."
And before Jane could say anything else, Beth had picked up her papers and left the room. Don't be disappointed, Jane told herself. She didn't get where she is by gossiping with the hired help.
"A notebook? Belonging to the victim?" Mel asked. "Why in the world didn't you tell me about this sooner!" He was really angry.
"I kept meaning to and forgetting."
"You say she left it in your car?"
"Yes, Crispy had one just like it, and wanted to see what was in Lila's book, so she traded them somehow and got Lila's out of my car later."
"What was in it?"
"I have no idea. You'll have to ask Crispy."
Crispy was duly summoned. She looked smashing in a pink workout suit and understated pearl earrings. That's a sweat suit that'll never get sweated on, Jane thought.
"The notebook? Dull as dishwater," she said, not the least abashed at not having turned it over to the police. "Some numbers in a sort of chart that looked
like sheM been pricing car insurance. A recipe for hummus. Some grocery coupons. The address for a jeweler in New York. Let's see — some airline times. Her flight, I believe. Nothing useful."
"Maybe you'd like to let me judge that for myself," Mel said stiffly.
"I'd be delighted to, but I can't. It disappeared."
"What!"'
"I put it in with the lingerie I brought back. I left the bag on my bed to put things away later. And when I came back to my room, it was gone. Not the clothing. Just the notebook."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Jane asked, angry now too.
"I just forgot. Believe me, the notes in it were useless. Just the sort of stuff you'd jot down on the back of grocery lists and stick in your purse."
"If it turns up, you will turn it over to us," Mel said.
Crispy bounced to her feet. "Naturally."
Mel was drumming his fingers on the library table. "Jane, if you'd even told me this yesterday, I could have searched the house for it and probably found it. Nobody had gotten away. But today, they're scattered to the four winds."
That was true. It was a gorgeous day and even the most sedentary had gone for walks. Avalon and Pooky had breakfast dates with friends in town. The notebook could be miles away by now.
But at the same time, investigating this murder was Mel's job. His only job, while Jane's jobs had included taking care of her three children, cleaning up and helping with cooking at the bed and breakfast, trying to sneak time to write a few pages of her novel, and attending Back-to-School night. Plus, although it was
not an assigned job, she had been on the spot for most of the jokes. Her brain was completely overloaded. But, in the interests of her relationship with Mel, she didn't say any of this. Instead, she just said, "I'm really sorry."
She'd hoped to ask him what he and the police department had found out about the women, but this wasn't the time. Besides, he was pretty good at being discreet himself. She knew what he'd say: "Jane, if a person doesn't have any criminal record, they hardly exist as far as we're concerned. I can dig up everything on a person's life, but not until I have them identified as a strong suspect." They'd had this conversation once before.
So she let him go, still angry, and went to help Edgar with lunch preparations. "We're almost done," Edgar said. "Only a light supper tonight; they're going to a cocktail party at the community center." He shuddered at the thought of what kind of foodstuffs would be served at the community center. "So for lunch we'll have baked sole, a nice Welsh rarebit, and a Boston lettuce salad with a lime/yogurt dressing. All fairly light and feminine. Then tonight, I thought chili and sandwiches. That's macho. Lots of celery and crackers. Cheeses and onions on the side."
"I'd reconsider the beans," Jane said.
Edgar laughed. "I'll go easy on the beans. Is Shelley
ever coming back?"
"Not if she's smart," Jane replied.
They'd just started cleaning up lunch when the
phone rang and Edgar handed it to Jane.
"Oh, Mom!" Katie wailed.
"What's wrong!"
"I forgot my gym shoes!"
.. Jane let out her breath, relieved. "I'll run home and get them. You be watching for me at the front door."
"Run along," Edgar said. "I can finish this up. And I don't need you back for dinner. I can manage it fine by myself."
Jane made a pitiful, insincere offer to come back anyway, but Edgar brushed it off and she took her chance to escape.
Katie bounded out to the car when Jane arrived at the junior high. "Guess what, Mom! Jenny and I have dates tonight!"
"No, you don't."
"Now, Mom, just listen for a minute. Jenny's dad is driving and it's okay with Jenny's mom."
This surprised Jane. Jenny's mother was as determined as Jane that the girls wouldn't date until they were thirty-five if she could manage it. "Jenny's mother agreed to this?"
"Yes, she says it's okay. Just talk to her, Mom. It's this really neat guy and, Mom, you have to face the fact that I'm not a child anymore."
It was tempting to point out that Katie was the living definition of a child, but Jane just said, — "I'll talk to Jenny's mother. Do not take this as agreement."
But she had; she went tearing off like a happy gazelle. Jane glanced around, preparing to pull out, and noticed Shelley's car. And a second later, Shelley coming out of the school. Jane waved and went to meet her. "What are you doing here?"
"Some idiot decided this was a perfect day to annoy me about the children's vaccinations. I had to take a record to the office."