Mulch Ado About Nothing (20 page)

It was turning into a bleak day, with the sky darkening and death discovered yesterday. Jane would have been perfectly content if they didn't come to see her yard, except for the fact that she'd called Mel late the night before and told him about the conversation she and Shelley had with Arnie and how he was willing to tell what little he'd observed, but only if he could meet Mel privately at Jane's house.

But secretly she was in agreement more with Charles Jones than with Shelley. A fine twist of fate. She'd rather go home and spend a day that threatened to become rainy and dark in her cozy, safe bedroom mindlessly watching her television than have all these people to her house.

She still wasn't entirely convinced, in spite of the coincidences, that the attack on Dr. Jackson and the murder of Dr. Eastman had been committed by one of the class. She recognized it was a possibility, but so were a lot of other scenarios that nobody but Mel was aware of.

But she couldn't betray Shelley's wishes and opt out. "Let's go to my house first and Shelley's after mine. Her yard is nicer than mine," she said as Shelley was jingling her car keys meaningfully.

The rest of them dragged themselves out of their chairs and followed Shelley and Jane to the parking lot. Everyone but Jane had driven their own cars, in anticipation, probably, of being free to bolt when they wished to.

When they all reassembled at Jane's house, she did her best to be cheerful and welcoming. She'd noticed Mel's little red MG parked up the street where he was waiting to tactfully pluck Arnie out of the crowd and have a talk with him. She doubted that Arnie's information would be helpful, but was in too deeply to back out.

Nobody had much to say about Jane's yard, although they all tried to be polite about her clearly recently imported plants around the patio in tubs. Ursula asked about the nice little rocks that covered Willard's damage to the yard. "It's an odd but appealing curve from one side of the yard to the other, but what are you planning to do next?" she asked with abnormal social grace.

“I thought I'd line both sides of the path with some low-growing ground cover," Jane improvised. "Can you suggest something suitable?"

“Let me think about it. I'll give some starts of several of my ground covers you could try out. It's a little late in the season to start them, but you might as well give it a try.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mel signaling to Arnie, who moved unobtrusively and unwillingly toward him.

Miss Winstead caught Jane's attention and said, "I envy the view of the field behind your house. It's rare to find a big open area like that in a well-developed suburb.”

This gave Jane the chance to explain how it had happened to be there. "It was the last block of houses in this division that were planned. The developer got in trouble with the financing of the building project, and for some reason nobody knows, a multitude of lawsuits have dragged out for years, preventing anyone else coming and building. The homeowners' society has taken over temporary responsibility for keeping it attractive. Part of our dues are spent on mowing it early in the spring and scattering wildflower seeds on it."

“What an excellent solution," Miss Winstead said.

“Over the last five years or so the wildflower plants seem to have finally beat out the weeds. Otherwise it would really be a blight," Jane agreed. She was blathering along on autopilot. "Frankly, I hope the lawsuits drag out for the rest of my life. I'd hate to lose this view. And my cats enjoy the field enormously. They'd be heartbroken if houses went up back there, and so would I.”

Geneva had joined them and had been listening. She said, "Someone ought to write an article about this. It might be very encouraging to other communities that have open land that's left to be a blight.”

Miss Winstead had been considering the view with head slightly tilted and eyes half-shut. "Jane, you know what would make this even better? If you replace that fence across the back of your yard with something rustic. A simple split-rail fence would fit in better with the wildness and beauty of the field.”

As they left Jane's yard for Shelley's, Arnie slipped back into the group. Nobody seemed to notice he'd been missing. Jane was dying to speak to Mel, but didn't dare disappear.

Shelley had gotten their girls to cooperate with her plans. An enormous pitcher of iced tea and a plate of tiny iced cakes were sitting out, lightly covered with plastic wrap. Colorful plates and glasses were ranged around her patio table.

“You just did this to show me up," Jane hissed.

“I did it to misdirect their attention from my store-bought garden," Shelley replied in a whisper.

No one was fooled. It was obvious to the real gardeners that Jane and Shelley's "gardens" had recently been trucked in. "You should keep these things," Ursula said, "instead of sending them back to the nursery."

“How did you know?" Jane asked with a laugh.

“They're too perfect and they're all in brand-new pots. But that's okay. You might learn some things by caring for them.”

The group made serious inroads on the tea and cakes, until there was a flash of lightning and distant thunder. Threatening weather gave the guests a legitimate reason to flee.

“I've enjoyed meeting all of you," Shelley said hurriedly as everyone headed for their cars. This didn't seem an appropriate way to end a class, everyone running for cover and probably hoping they'd never meet again.

“That wasn't too bad," Jane said when they were all gone. "At least we showed that we cared about our yards enough to make an effort to spruce them up."

“They knew we cheated," Shelley said bluntly. "We should have done what Stefan did — let them see it in the raw and make suggestions.”

When Jane went back to her house, she was surprised to see Mel still sitting at her kitchen table, eating a ham sandwich. "Sorry, but I've missed lunch for three days in a row. Hope you don't mind that I raided your refrigerator."

“Not in the least," Jane said, sitting down next to him. "Was Arnold Waring helpful?”

Mel shook his head. "Not at all. It was all so vague. He wasn't sure of the color, make, or age of the car he claims he saw in front of Dr. Jackson's house."

“Claims?"

“My instinct tells me he made it up," Mel said. "He's a lonely old man, wanting to look helpful and cooperative, I think. We'd already questioned everyone else on the block about strange vehicles or unfamiliar people on the street during the early morning of the attack on Dr. Jackson. Nobody could think of anything unusual."

“Maybe they were all just busy with their own lives and didn't notice," Jane said. It was a feeble excuse, but she felt honor-bound to make it.

“Jane, you know better," Mel said, grinning. "This kind of old neighborhood has people who keep an eye out for anything odd happening. You and Shelley are good examples.”

Jane started to object to this characterization, but Mel put out his hands to stop her. "It's not a criticism. It's how neighbors are supposed to be. Looking out for each other."

“So you really think Arnie made up the suspicious car?"

“I do. But I'll get uniforms to go to every house again. There's about a one percent chance that someone else might have noticed this mystery car and will remember it when asked a second time."

“Or let their imaginations run away on them," Jane said.

“Exactly."

“Mel, you're looking so tired. Can't you get a little time off this case? Maybe we could go to a movie tonight."

“And let you thrash more innocent people with that crutch?”

Shelley hauled jane
around
while taking the
girls to their cooking class and they tried a little shopping while the storm passed, but Jane was so dangerous in a mall that they soon gave up the effort. But not before a sales clerk had patted Jane's arm and asked, "How did you do that to yourself?"

“I fell off the roof while I was cleaning gutters," Jane said.

“Why would you be cleaning gutters this time of year?" the clerk sensibly asked.

“Oh, I do it four times a year, rain or shine." "Well, darling, don't do it again. There are people you can hire for that."

“What's the next one you're going to try?" Shelley asked as they got back to the van.

“I don't know yet. I haven't tried skiing in the Alps yet, have I? Shelley, people like my fake answers better than the real one. When I say I fell off a curb, they immediately lose interest and think I was just clumsy."

“Which you were," Shelley said.

“What now?"

“I don't know," Shelley said, stopping a bare half inch from the car in front of them. She leaned on the horn. "She had plenty of room to get out if she'd just moved along with traffic. You know, I have a sense of anticlimax. The class is over. Neither the attack nor the murder is solved. Or near being solved. We've struck out, Jane."

“Not yet. Anybody but us surviving the class might have done the deeds."

“And a lot of other complete strangers, too," Shelley said, passing the car that had held her up and glaring fiercely at the hapless driver.

“I don't think so. The class was full of peculiar people."

“Everybody's peculiar in their own way. Look at Kipsy."

“You would bring her up."

“And you're peculiar yourself," Shelley went on. "Making up those loony stories about how you hurt your foot."

“But I'm just entertaining myself and others," Jane claimed. "It's a perfectly innocent thing to do. Makes everybody happy."

“Want to drop in on the cooking class?"

“Absolutely not. We'll learn soon enough what we're going to be subjected to tonight. I liked the omelettes, though. If Katie would just cook them once a week, I'd be happy to let her. I should probably be getting home. Mike's always stretching out the buttonholes on his knit summer shirts,and I promised I'd get to tightening them up for him this week. That's something I can do with no effort."

“I'm supposed to be calling everyone to set up the fall car pools this week, too," Shelley said. "Why do I always get stuck with that job?"

“Because you do it superbly well. And it helps that everybody's afraid to argue with you.”

They parted in Shelley's driveway and Jane got upstairs to her sewing room quite efficiently and brought down Mike's shirt collection, and threads to match all the buttonholes. She settled in the living room and watched an old, and not top-rate, Katharine Hepburn movie while she sewed. But her mind was still on the events of the week. Why would anyone attack Julie Jackson and then murder her substitute teacher for the gardening class? Was it simply a hideous coincidence? She couldn't accept that it was. And Shelley was right that everyone in the class was rather off the norm.

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."