Missing Marlene (22 page)

Please read on
for an exciting sneak peek at
Evan Marshall’s
newest Jane Stuart and Winky mystery
HANGING HANNAH
now on sale wherever hardcover mysteries are sold!

“Jane, can you help me with these rocks?” Ginny scrambled around the long picnic table, placing rocks from the supply of them in her arms at each corner of the table and at intervals along the sides. “This wind is fierce!”

She was right—the wind was strong, and without the rocks the tablecloth would have blown away. But it was a glorious day nonetheless, a perfect Sunday afternoon in May. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless china blue sky, birds sang in the woods surrounding the inn’s backyard, and the air carried that scent of honeysuckle Jane had picked up leaving the Defarge Club meeting Tuesday night.

Suddenly the wind rose, flapping the edges of the canvas awning that shaded the patio. The tablecloth lifted at the edges, as if it would fly away.

“You know,” Jane said, grabbing some rocks from Ginny and placing them between the ones already there, “they make special clips to hold tablecloths down. They have them at Kmart. This rock thing is what my
mother
did.”

“I like the old-fashioned way,” Ginny said defensively, though she was smiling as if she knew Jane was right.

“Me too,” Louise chimed in, emerging from the inn with a tray of brightly colored napkins and plastic cups, plates, and forks. “It’s more fun this way. Like ants at a picnic.”

Jane shrugged. She gazed far across the lawn at Nick and his friends, who were playing a game Nick had made up called
Star Wars
tag. Nick shouted, “Obi!” and tore across the lawn, squealing with laughter. The dozen or so other boys and girls bolted after him.

“Aren’t they sweet?” Ginny was watching them wistfully. Jane and Louise exchanged a silent, sympathetic look.

Louise worked her way around the table, setting down plates. “I’ll leave the napkins in a pile over here,” she said.

“Yes, under a rock,” Ginny said, and plunked one down on the pile.

The door of the inn opened again and Doris appeared, barely visible behind a stack of pizza boxes.

“Doris!” Jane ran to her. “Let me help you with those.” She relieved the older woman of half the boxes and set them down at one end of the table.

“Such a fuss,” Doris said in her deep brisk voice, and set her boxes on top of Jane’s. Doris, who was seventy-two, hated being treated like an old person. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the table. “Now what?”

“Nothing, really, until the pizza comes,” Louise said. “The children are having a wonderful time. How about some lemonade for us?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ginny said.

“Me too,” Doris said, sitting on a bench of the picnic table.

Ernie rounded the corner of the inn. “Did I hear ‘lemonade’?” he asked brightly.

Louise’s smile vanished. “I’ll get it, dear.” She was all business now. “And I’d better make sure the cake is ready. Twelve candles, right, Jane? Ten years, one for good luck, and one to grow on—that’s how we’ve always done it.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jane said, and felt a rush of warmth for Louise, truly a good friend. Jane wondered why Louise seemed troubled about Ernie. Perhaps they were in the midst of some squabble.

Ernie dropped his ample form into an Adirondack chair near the door and smiled at the children, who were now piling all over Nick and screaming, “Darth! Darth!” “I want to be a kid again,” Ernie said dreamily. “Things were so simple then.”

“Hello, all!” Penny appeared around from around the side of the inn, carrying an enormous box wrapped in vivid Looney Tunes paper. She set the box at the corner of the patio.

“Penny,” Jane said, “what on earth—?”

“You said Nick liked
Star Wars.
This is Boba Fett’s spaceship, or whatever it’s called.”

“That’s much too extravagant,” Jane said.

“Like I said,” Ernie called from across the patio, “things were simpler when I was a kid.”

They all smiled.

“Penny,” Jane said, “where are Alan and Rebecca?”

Penny looked down at the patio, her hair falling to each side of her face. “Alan ... had some chores to do. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”

Ginny and Jane exchanged a knowing look. Poor Penny was constantly making excuses for Alan.

“Then he’s watching Rebecca?” Ginny asked.

“No, she’s in the car. I’m going to get her now.” Penny turned and walked back around the inn toward the front drive.

Ginny shrugged and came over to Jane. “Do I
really
want to get married and have children?”

“Yes, Ginny, you do. Not all men are like Alan.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ginny said.

At that moment Nick ran up to Jane. His face was red and sweaty, and he was breathing hard. His shorts were covered with grass stains. “Mom, I’m hungry. Are we eating soon?” He eyed the stack of pizza boxes.

“Soon, honey. It would be rude to eat before everyone’s here.”

“Who’s not here?”

“Daniel and Laura. And also Rhoda. I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.”

“I know!” Ginny said. “Let’s have the scavenger hunt now.”

“But that takes a long time,” Nick whined, “and we’re hungry.”

“We can call a time-out when Daniel and Laura and Rhoda get here,” Ginny said.

Nick thought for a moment. “Okay. How does this scavenger hunt work?”

Ginny grabbed her bag from the edge of the patio and peered into it, finally bringing out several stacks of cards held together with rubber bands. “First we separate into teams. I just happen to have a list of who’s on what team.” From her bag she whipped out a list of the children’s names grouped into teams of four.

“So efficient!” Jane commented.

“It’s the waitress in me.” Ginny winked. “Kids!” she hollered. “Over here, please!”

She met them in the middle of the lawn and began explaining the scavenger hunt. How sweet their faces were as they listened in rapt attention, Jane thought.

“Coming through!”

Jane turned. Rhoda rounded the corner of the inn, arms full of cardboard boxes. “Hi, all,” she said brightly. “My arms are numb. I’d better get this ice cream into the freezer. Where’s Louise?”

Ernie got up. “She’s inside, Rhoda. I’ll stick that in the freezer for you. Thanks,” he said, relieving her of the boxes, and he disappeared inside.

Rhoda, looking smashing in a culotte set, came over to Jane. “Hi, hon. Read any good books lately?”

Jane smiled. “No.” She looked Rhoda up and down. “Pretty snazzy for a kids’ party.”

“I,” Rhoda announced proudly, “have a date.”

Penny, who had been fussing with the napkin pile, stopped and stared at Rhoda.

Doris sat up straight. “Way to go, girl.”

“Yes, Rhoda, how wonderful,” Jane said. “May I ask who?”

“You may,” Rhoda said, beaming. “His name is Adam and I met him at an antique store in Chester.”

“He works in a store?” Doris asked flatly.

“No, Doris,” Rhoda said, rolling her eyes, “he was
looking,
like me.” She smiled and wiggled her perfectly tweezed brows meaningfully. “He’s terrific. This isn’t our first date.”

“Way to
go,”
Doris repeated.

Somehow even Ginny in the middle of the lawn heard this, and suddenly turned toward Rhoda with a bright smile. “That’s fantastic, Rhoda!” She turned back to the kids. “Now everybody got it? Ready ... set ... GO!”

“Thanks,” Rhoda said to everyone, looking quite pleased with herself. “I’m meeting him for a movie and dinner later.”

“Wonderful,” Jane murmured. To her own surprise, she felt a pang of envy. Rhoda’s divorce wasn’t even final and she was already snagging terrific men in antique shops. Jane wondered if maybe she ought to develop an interest in that area.

“What’s wonderful?” Daniel, dapper in a blue-and-white seersucker jacket over navy slacks and polo shirt, appeared bearing a small wrapped gift under his arm.

“My date,” Rhoda said, coming up to Daniel and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Good to see you.” She looked him up and down. “Damn, you’re cute. If you’re ever available, don’t you forget old Rhoda!”

Jane looked at the easily embarrassed Daniel to see if this had flustered him, but he took Rhoda’s comment with good grace.

“Where’s Laura—your
fiancée?”
Jane asked, shooting a pointed look at Rhoda, who gave her a mischievous grin.

“She went in the front,” Daniel said. “Needed to use the ladies’. Now,” he said, producing a small camera from his jacket pocket, “before I forget, let’s get shots of us for that convention you got us roped into.”

“Wonderful think-of-everything Daniel,” Jane said. “I forgot all about it.”

“I knew that,” Daniel said cheerfully, looking around. “How about right over here, in front of Louise’s azaleas?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jane said, feeling a flutter of nervousness in her stomach at the thought of the RAT convention and wishing he hadn’t brought it up. She positioned herself in front of the vivid mass of fuchsia flowers while Daniel took her picture; then they traded places and she took his.

“Good, that’s done,” Jane said. “Thank you, Daniel.”

At that moment Ernie emerged from inn. He looked preoccupied, and suddenly put on a smile as he stepped out onto the patio.

Behind him came Laura, smiling innocently. “Hello, hello.” She looked summer stylish in a short lavender dress and a matching wide-brimmed hat that sat at a perfect angle on her light brown hair and complemented her pretty heart-shaped face.

“Love it,” Rhoda said, eyeing the hat.

“Thanks,” Laura said. “I thought it might be too—”

But before she could finish, the wind picked up her hat and carried it high into the air. “Oh, my!” she cried.

Daniel darted off to fetch it, but before he had reached the middle of the lawn he stopped short because a long shrill cry tore the air, and as it did a flurry of small black birds rose from the edge of the woods into the sky.

For the briefest moment Jane, in the confusion, thought the piercing shriek came from the birds. Then she realized, with a sharp intake of breath and a painful pounding of her heart, that the high-pitched sound was the terrified scream of a child.

And that that child was Nick.

“Nicholas!” Jane cried.

She ran across the grass toward the source of his scream, the other adults close behind her. She realized now that the children had been in the woods, presumably gathering items for their scavenger hunt. Jane could see neither Ginny nor any of the children through the trees, but as Jane neared them, she could hear children crying.

She was the first to enter the woods, by means of a path that bored into the shadows between two wide oak trunks. She had walked only a few feet when she nearly collided with Ginny, who stood on the path with her back toward Jane and was calling desperately to the children, whom Jane could see just beyond her.

“Kids, quickly! Come out, follow me!” Ginny, oblivious of Jane and the others behind her, moved quickly among the children, roughly shepherding them toward the path that led out of the woods. Jane spotted Nick. His face was sickly white and tears ran down his cheeks. Ginny grabbed his shoulder and pushed him after the other children. At that moment Nick saw Jane and ran to her, hugging her hard.

Jane felt someone bump her from behind and turned her head. It was Ernie, who was looking past her with a look of alarm.

“Ginny, what on earth is going on?” he demanded.

Ginny, having gotten all of the children headed out of the woods, spun around to look at him. Jane had never seen her like this. Her face was white, almost green, and she looked as if she was trying hard not to pass out. She said nothing, instead pointing with her eyes to something deeper in the woods.

“Oh, good Lord ...” Doris whispered.

They could see only feet, grimy feet in sandals, dangling about a foot and a half off the ground. Foliage obstructed the rest, and Jane, followed by the others, moved slowly around.

Jane’s hands flew to her face. “My God.” It was a young woman, thin, in a simple pale blue cotton dress sprinkled with tiny white flowers. She hung by the neck from a noose at the end of a rope that had been thrown over a heavy branch; from the branch the rope extended straight and tight at a downward angle to where it was tied to the base of another tree’s trunk.

“Who is she?” Penny said softly.

Jane studied the woman. She didn’t think it was anyone she knew but it was impossible to know for sure because even in the dappled shade of the trees it was clear that the woman’s face was covered with garish makeup, almost like a clown: a red circle of blush, like old-fashioned rouge, on each cheek; scarlet lipstick applied so sloppily that it extended well past her lips to create a weird oval red mouth; deep blue eye shadow on her eyelids, which were, mercifully, closed. Her hair was an ordinary brown and shoulder length; it hung straight and limp—as if, it occurred to Jane, she’d had a bad haircut. Jane squinted, studying the woman’s face harder. Could she be faintly smiling? It seemed so, but this, too, was impossible to say for sure because of the lipstick. If not for the unnatural angle of her head, she might have been peacefully asleep, so relaxed was her face, so gently closed were her eyes. But that was how death often looked, Jane told herself. That was what death was—a kind of sleep.

The wind rose, rustling the leaves on the trees, playing with the girl’s hair. Goose bumps rose on Jane’s arms, and she shivered.

“Does anybody know her?” Ernie asked softly, and Jane jumped at the sound of his voice.

No one answered.

“Come on, let’s get away from her,” Louise said, taking control, and like automatons everyone turned and started back along the path.

Nick held Jane’s hand tightly. She realized now that she should have shepherded him out of the woods with the other children, that she’d allowed him to study the poor hanging woman along with the grown-ups.

“Mom?” Nick was crying. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know, darling,” was all Jane could say, wrapping her arm tightly around his shoulder. “I don’t know.”