Grime and Punishment

and face were crosshatched with scratches by the time she reached the edge of Shelley’s backyard.
    She climbed over the fence and ran for the house, then flung herself down the basement stairwell and paused to get her breath for a moment before trying the door. Thank God! It was unlocked. She stepped in, picking her way carefully through Shelley’s basement and up the stairs. At the top, she waited, listening. She didn’t want to suddenly appear in Shelley’s kitchen right in the midst of an arrest. Nor did she want to spring the trap too soon.
    Finally, hearing nothing whatsoever, she gingerly pushed the door open a crack. Nothing. Open a little bit more. Still nothing. She stuck her head through and a voice next to her ear said, “Stop right there!”
    She turned and looked into the barrel of a gun. Behind it there was a young man in jeans and a T-shirt that said “Tit for Tat.”
    Dear God! Had she been even more wrong than she thought? Had it been a wandering maniac after all? And why was he back here today? Would Thelma get to raise her children now? “We got her, sir!“ he shouted.
    Suddenly the room was full of men. Five other plainclothesmen—including Detective Mel VanDyne and Uncle Jim Spelling, who emerged from the broom closet spitting flame. “Jesus Christ, Janey!“ Uncle Jim said. “Put that gun down, Harris. She’s not the one. Not that she doesn’t deserve to be shot!”
    Detective VanDyne had bent over the counter and looked like he was about to start banging his head on the Formica. “I could have gone into the family’s hardware business, but no-o-o, I had to go into law enforcement...”
    Harris, the wandering, maniac, put away his gun and turned. The back of his shirt said, “Okay, what’s a Tat?“
    “Uncle Jim, we were wrong. It isn’t Robbie at all—”
    At that moment, everyone froze at the sound of the vacuum cleaner starting upstairs. It was obviously a signal. The men in the kitchen instantly melted away. “I don’t have room for her with me,“ Uncle Jim said. “You take her!“ With that, he got in the broom closet and closed the door behind himself.
    Mel VanDyne grabbed Jane’s wrist and dragged her into the living room. Two sofas faced each other in front of the fireplace. Van-Dyne crouched behind the farthest one and yanked Jane down beside him. “Not a word! Don’t even breathe!“ he said.
    “But you have to know someth—“
    “Shut up!”
    Jane caught her breath. Someone had opened the kitchen door. She started to peek over the top of the sofa, but VanDyne grabbed her hair with one hand and put the other over her mouth. She subsided.
    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 interfering
    “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