Grime and Punishment
that.
“What shall I say?“
“I don’t know,“ Jane said, following her back to the kitchen. They were moving along like children, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go.
Shelley picked up the phone, then put it back down. “I can’t hear with that dishwasher going,“ she said. She looked down at the little light indicating the cycle. She went even whiter than before. “It’s just on prewash...“ she said tonelessly.
“So what? Just cancel the cycle— My God, Shelley!“ Jane said, suddenly realizing the implications of this. “Did you start it before you found her?“
“No, she“—she gestured helplessly toward the stairs—“must have.“
“Then that means she’s only been dead a few minutes. Whoever did it might still be here.”
They looked toward the family room, and suddenly the chairs and sofas became menacing—hiding places where murderers might be lurking. Jane grabbed Shelley’s arm. “We’ll call from my house.“
“We shouldn’t leave her. It doesn’t seem decent.“
“Decent! Nothing about this is decent, Shelley Anyway, we can’t do her any good now.”
Holding hands like terrified schoolgirls, they ran across the adjoining drives and into Jane’s kitchen. Willard greeted them, then ran for cover, sensing that something was very wrong. After misdialing twice, Shelley finally managed to convey to the police that someone had been murdered in her house and that she was safely waiting at her neighbor’s house. She gave her address and Jane’s, and was barely through talking when the faint wail of a siren sounded on the main thoroughfare a few blocks over.
They stood looking at each other. “What do I do now?“ Shelley asked.
“Nothing. Just wait. Want a cigarette?”
Shelley had quit nearly a year before, but accepted the offer with gratitude. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?“ she said, coughing a little as she took the first drag.
“Yes, of course. I’ve got to take care of car pools.“ In spite of the situation, the mother part of Jane was still working, consulting a mental file cabinet of everyday responsibilities. “Mike will get himself home, and Katie is supposed to be staying for a pep rally and coming home with a friend. But Todd—”
Keeping an eye on Shelley, who looked shaky, she picked up the phone, thought for a minute, then dialed Dorothy Wallenberg’s number.
“Dorothy! Thank goodness you’re home. I need a couple favors. Something awful has happened. Shelley’s cleaning lady has—has died. Yes, it’s terrible. Yes, just now. I’ll tell her you said that. Just at the moment, I’m the one who needs some help. Please, would you pick up Todd for me and take him home with you? And call everybody who’s supposed to be coming tonight to the meeting at Shelley’s house and tell them it’s been canceled. No, I’m not sure—”
She glanced at Shelley, who had balanced the cigarette on the edge of the table and was leaning over with her head between her knees, breathing deeply. “I can’t ask her, Dorothy. Just call anybody you think might have been coming. I think Laura Stapler has a list of the committee members. Start with her. Thanks, Dorothy.”
Shelley stood up and went to the window, swaying slightly. The wail of the first siren stopped abruptly, and through Jane’s kitchen window they could see that there was one officer sprinting around the far side of Shelley’s house and another coming around the near corner. They had their guns drawn. Another, having apparently parked on the next street, vaulted nimbly over the back fence and headed, crouching, toward the basement door that opened out of the back of the house. Jane could hear at least two other sirens. “Dorothy says if there’s anything you need or want, just call her.”
Shelley turned away from the window, sat down, and pushed her hair back from her face. “That’s nice of her,“ she said with mechanical courtesy.
Jane’s phone rang and she answered curtly. “Yes?“
“Jane! This is Mary Ellen. I just looked out the front window. What’s wrong at Shelley’s?“
“The cleaning lady’s been killed. The killer may still be in the house.“
“Edith? Killed?“
“Yes—no, not Edith. It was a substitute. Somebody strangled her.“
“Oh, my God,“ Mary Ellen said, sounding nearly as bad as Shelley did. “What can I do? Is Shelley all right?“
“She’s not hurt. You can’t do anything. Just stay in the house until it’s over.
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