Dirty Little Murder (4 page)

On the drive home, she prayed God would give Paula comfort—and give her the ability to relax at Paula’s house.

The next day Jane found herself
back at Caramel’s house. Rather than being fired, Jane had been offered an extra day of heavy cleaning.
Douglas
and Caramel were both missing in action, but there was a detailed message on Jane’s voicemail that gave her at least three hours’ worth of housework.

She started her day in the garage. From glossy white walls to the speckled floor, this five bay room was like a jewelry box for vintage cars, not a place people got dirty. Both of the Swansons’ daily drivers were parked in the garage, so Jane guessed the two were out back on the property somewhere.

Though the room appeared spotless, Jane had directions to give it a deep clean.

Mopping the spotless garage floor was one of the weirder feelings Jane had had in her life—right up there with sitting quietly in Paula’s house. A hot wave of embarrassment rolled over Jane as she remembered her failed attempt to offer comfort to Paula. She ought to have better people skills. After all, she was twenty-two now, and had been doing this “grown up” thing for a long time.

Clear water ran out of the mop every time she twisted it in the mop bucket. How like Caramel to make the maid do something that didn’t need to be done. Classic power trip.

Jane ran the mop under the new Mini Cooper—Caramel’s rather modest little daily driver.

At last the mop came back dirty. Jane felt a little thrill of pleasure. She let out a happy sigh and stuck the mop back under the car. When she was sure it was clean, she gave her mop a final rinse and dumped the mop water down the utility sink.

Since she was on the lower level, she ought to clean the hot tub room next. It was just down the hall from the garage, in the daylight basement, and had sweeping views of their vast lawns, but the hot tub room gave Jane the creeps. She paused at the door of the room—her least favorite in all of the homes she had ever cleaned.

The walls were papered in shimmery black with gold flecks and topped with a mirrored ceiling. Jane would have guessed this house was less than fifteen years old, but the hot tub room was straight from the 1980s—years before she was born.

A huge wet bar flanked one wall. A light made from wine bottles strung in a row hung over it. The bar stools were topped with leopard print cushions and the rug was a brilliant zebra print—brilliant because the white stripes glowed in the black light that was positioned over it.

Then there was the hot tub itself. It was the maid’s job—therefore Jane’s until the proper maid returned from vacation—to do the pH test and add chemicals as necessary. The tub was a beast. It looked as though it could seat twenty, and she had to climb a set of black marble—could it be real marble?—steps to get to the lid.

Every time she climbed the steps she felt like a missionary being led into the cauldron by cannibals. Cannibals aside, this hot tub water really was people-broth.

The hot tub room was warm and steamy. It smelled like a locker room. From the small pile of towels at the bottom step to the tub, Jane could tell it had been used recently. All lights but the black light were out, so the towels, the stripes on the rug, and the striations in the steps glowed. Jane crinkled her nose. She flipped the light on before she entered. It was better when the lights were on. Not great, but better.

Jane had the water testing kit in her pocket, so she went straight to the tub. Best to get the grossest bit out of the way first.

At the first step, she grabbed the pile of towels—still damp—and tossed them to the laundry hamper by the door. She missed.

Jane knelt at the top step and leaned over to get her water sample.

Something stringy slid through her fingers.

Hair? Short, gray hair that waved around in the water like sickly seaweed.

Jane wrenched her hand back. Her stomach heaved.

Douglas Swanson sat in the tub his face submerged just below the surface of the water.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, and grabbed his head, trying to lift it from the water so she could find a pulse. Her fingers probed his bloated neck, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hold his head, find a pulse, and not puke.

She turned her head to the side, and wretched.

Her guts were in a vice that wouldn’t stop squeezing, but nothing came out. For the first time ever, she was glad she had skipped breakfast.

She tried again to lift him, so she could attempt CPR, but he was just too heavy. And, she was pretty sure he was dead.

She pulled her phone out of her apron pocket, but her hand was shaking so violently that she dropped it in the tub. She plunged her arm into the water up to her elbow, and the bobbing head butted against her arm as she fished for her phone. The phone lay on
Douglas
’s knee. She pulled her arm out of the water and stumbled down the steps. She lunged for the door, but tripped on the tangle of wet towels and pitched into the door frame.

Her skull felt like a bell with her brain sounding against its hard sides. She wiped her forehead with her wet hand.

Blood. She was bleeding.

The room swirled around her. She stopped everything and sat down, legs crossed. She leaned forward, her head in her lap, and tried to breathe. “Dear Lord, dear Lord, dear Lord,” she prayed over and over again, thankful that the Spirit would translate her panic into something useful.

When her body stilled she sat up. Her phone, resting on
Douglas
’s knee, was the only phone she knew of in the house. In the three weeks she had been cleaning here, she hadn’t seen a single land line. Should she run upstairs and search the rooms for one? Or was there a faster way to call the police?

She had seen a bright blue alarm system box in the garage.

With extreme caution, so as not to start the panic back up, Jane stood, and took the long walk back down the basement hall.

The alarm box was above the workbench.

Jane popped the cover and stared at the keys. Could she trip the alarm to make it call the police? Or was there an emergency button she could press?

She held her shaking finger in front of the keypad.

Maybe she should get a neighbor instead.

She turned her head toward the garage doors. The neighbors were so isolated on their
acred
lots. It would be faster to alert the police this way. If she could figure it out.

But wait.

Do you even call the police when a man drowns?

She pressed her finger tips to her forehead. She needed a phone to call 911.

But she didn’t really need an ambulance, because
Douglas
was dead.

She looked up at the box again.

She chewed her lip.

How had that alarm gone off when she was a kid?

The switch box.

The switch box was near enough to the alarm box that she could reach it. She opened it up and began switching every one of them on and then off. Before she had done the whole box the alarm was sounding.

A shoulder-shaking sob escaped. She took a deep breath. Then another. Someone would come help her now.

Jane let herself out the garage door. She sat on the edge of the flower box nearest the garage and waited for help to arrive.

Caramel Swanson stormed across her driveway
. She was squeezed into a pair of curve-hugging jeans and shiny brown leather riding boots that were silent on the cobblestone parking circle.

“What is going on here?” Caramel held her phone in Jane’s face like an accusation. “The alarm company just called me to see if I knew why our alarm was going off. I do not know why the alarm is going off.”

Jane’s whole body shook. Her mind told her to stand up and face Caramel, but her legs didn’t agree. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to hold them still. She opened her mouth, but a garbled choke came out instead of words.

“Well? How did you trip the alarm? It wasn’t even set.” Caramel’s face was violent red. “I was in the middle of something a little bit important.”

Jane threw herself to her feet. She quivered top to bottom. “It’s
Douglas
.” Her voice matched her shaking body.

“What’s that dirty dog done now?” Caramel pulled her phone back. Her face wrinkled like she had a mouth full of vinegar.

“He’s dead.” Jane’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Caramel’s eyes bulged out of her head. “What?”

“In the hot tub.” Jane kept her eyes trained on Caramel’s face.

Caramel’s angry red face had bleached white. She looked Jane up and down, then frowned. “What do you mean he’s dead in the hot tub?”

Jane just nodded.

“You mean
Douglas
is dead? In the hot tub?”

Jane nodded again. If she opened her mouth, all of her fear would come out in great
hiccoughy
sobs, and she couldn’t do that in front of Caramel.

“What are you doing just sitting here? Call the ambulance!” Caramel’s voice rose to a shriek that sent shivers up and down Jane’s arms.

Jane gulped. “I dropped my phone. In the hot tub.” She flinched.

Caramel waved her phone in Jane’s face. “You are the most inept, useless person I have met in all of my life! Get inside the house and call the ambulance, you fool! They might have been able to save my husband!”

Jane wavered, looking from the door to the phone in Caramel’s hand. “Is there a phone inside?”

“Oh, never mind!” Caramel stabbed her cell phone with a long, red, fingernail. “911? 911? There’s been a death!”

The blare of sirens made Jane’s skin crawl. She stood against the brick wall of the garage door, shaking with fear. When the paramedics poured out of the ambulance, Caramel swooped on them and led them to the hot tub room.

Jane considered running—just running down the street as far away as her feet could carry her. She could always run back again to talk to the police. But an officer reached her before she could will her feet to move.

The officer was a short woman with cropped brown hair and a deeply lined face. She frowned at Jane. “Caramel Swanson?”

“No, ma’am. Jane Adler, the maid.” Jane bit her lip.

The officer looked her up and down as though recording her height and weight.

“You discovered the body?”

“Yes.” Jane gripped her fingers together to keep them from shaking.

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

Jane opened her mouth to answer, but she choked on a sob. She clamped her mouth shut and just nodded.

“It’s okay.” The officer lowered her voice, and looked over Jane’s shoulder. “Take your time.”

Jane nodded again. She blinked away the tears that were burning in her eyes. “I was going to call, but I was shaking so hard I dropped my phone in the water.” Her words began to spill out. “I thought I was all alone here, and I didn’t know what to do, so I set off the alarm. But they called Caramel’s cell phone, and so Caramel came up here and then she called you.”

The officer narrowed her eyes. “You’re the regular housekeeper?”

“No. I’m just filling in while their maid is on vacation.”

“So you didn’t know where Caramel was or where the phones were?”

“I panicked. I couldn’t remember seeing a phone, but there might be one upstairs in the office.” Jane rubbed her lips together hoping to make her jaw stop trembling.

“So your cell phone is in the hot tub with the deceased?”

“Yes.” Jane looked at her feet.

“I need you to remain outside now. Two officers are staying out here, and you cannot leave the property. Do you understand?”

Jane nodded. This time the tears spilled down her face.

The officer looked her up and down again. Her eyebrows lifted a tiny bit. “Go ahead and sit down.” The officer indicated the ground.

Jane slid to her seat. She wrapped her arms around her knees and laid her head on them. She had been alone in the house with
Douglas
, and now he was dead, and she wasn’t allowed to leave the property, and her cell phone was in the hot tub. They were going to arrest her. She pinched her eyes shut and prayed the prayer of a desperately scared kid. “Dear God,” she whispered, “I want my mommy.”

Jane kept her head down and her eyes shut until she heard the paramedics exiting the house. She opened her eyes, but didn’t lift her head. Two paramedics carried the stretcher off to the ambulance. Douglas Swanson was zipped in a body bag. Behind her somewhere, maybe still at the threshold of the door, Caramel was answering questions, her words mingled with deep, chesty sobs.

A man in a rain coat crouched beside Jane. “I’d like to ask you some questions. Do you mind stepping over here?”

Jane wiped her eyes, nodded, and followed the man to the front door of the house. They both sat on the stone benches that flanked the front door.

“I’m Detective Bryce. Are you Jane Adler?”

“Yes.” Jane chewed on the side of her tongue. She would have given her own left hand to stop shaking. Kaitlyn’s bionic hand popped into her head, and she almost smiled. She took a deep breath, slowly calming down.

“Can you tell me why you were in the basement of the Swanson house?”

“I’m their cleaner—just while their real maid is on vacation.” Jane took another deep breath.

“Tell me about what you did today.” The officer had a baby face, with big blue eyes and an easy smile. His words were slow, with a hint of the South. He seemed like the safe spot in a whirlpool of sharks. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.

“I started in the garage, tidied the work bench, mopped up the floor. Then, since I was downstairs already, I went to the back room with the hot tub. I needed to clean it up.”

“What happened next?” He leaned forward a little, as though she were telling a fascinating story.

“I wanted to check the pH on the tub—I do it every time I come. Balance the chemicals and all of that.” Jane took another deep breath. “I dipped the little tester thing into the water, to get the sample, you know? And that’s when I saw him in there.” She squeezed her eyes shut for just a second, wishing she could see anything but the straggling hair floating at the surface of the water.

“And then what happened?”

“I had to call the ambulance, so I grabbed my phone, but I was shaking so hard—” Jane held out her hand, still quaking “—that I dropped it in the tub.”

“What did you do then?” Detective Bryce had a surprised tone, like he hadn’t already known that, though Jane thought surely he had.

“I didn’t know what to do. I tried to think of where there was a phone in the house, but I couldn’t remember, and the house is so big. I didn’t want to waste time running around.”

“You didn’t try to get him out of the water and revive him?”

Bit her bottom lip. She had tried to pull him out, but he was so heavy. What if she should have tried harder? Her hard-won composure was gone again. He had just looked dead. He had looked hideously dead, lying there in the water. “He was too heavy…” Her voice trailed off.

“Do you have CPR training?”

Jane nodded. After the situation with Bob Crawford the previous year, she had gotten CPR training. But in spite of that she still hadn’t been able to save
Douglas
.

“But you didn’t try to resuscitate him?” Detective Bryce hadn’t changed his tone of voice one bit; he still sounded interested and concerned. But Jane felt convicted.

“I couldn’t get him out. And he just looked so dead.” Jane pulled her eyes from the detective’s face.

“What happened next?”

“I just tried to think of some way to get help, and the fastest thing I could think of was the house alarm.”

“You didn’t try and find Caramel?”

“I didn’t know she was home.”

The officer nodded. “Okay. So you set off the house alarm. Then what happened?”

“Caramel came and called the police.” Jane was suddenly exhausted. She didn’t want to relive every step of the last hour—the sloshing water, the moist towels, the frantically flipping switches at the electrical panel, or Caramel yelling at her while Douglas floated in the filthy water of his playboy tub.

“There’s just one more thing I’d like you to do today. Do you think you are up for it?”

Jane frowned.

“I just need to get your contact information. Okay? No big deal. Later, we’ll want to connect with you to get an official statement. You know, if this is just some kind of accident, it’s no big deal at all, but depending on what the coroner says, we’ll need to get in touch with you for a statement.” Detective Bryce’s voice was friendly, not condescending. It had a little up note at the end, like getting in touch for a statement was kind of the same as going out for coffee, or meeting at the library.

Jane gave him her address. “But… I have to get a new phone now, so I don’t know. Should I call you when I have a new number? Or maybe I can have the phone people switch my number to a new phone?”

“Yes, you’d better give us the old number, and then try and have it moved. If worse comes to worst we’ll just pop by. And as soon as you have a new phone, you can call us and confirm the number.” Detective Bryce passed her a business card.

“Okay.” Jane felt tongue tied.

“Wait here just a minute, all right?”

Jane nodded and watched the young detective go back to his car. He stood next to it and made a phone call.

He was back on the porch with her before she could decide what she should do next. He had a pad of paper and a pen.

“I had a quick chat with my boss, and he suggested since you might not be easy to reach, that you could write your statement out for us now.” He handed her the pad, with a disarming smile. “Do you think you are up for it?”

Jane swallowed hard. What could it hurt? “Sure.” She took the notepad with a shaking hand.

“Just write down everything you told me, and it will be perfect.” He sat down on the bench across from her again.

Jane started to write. The words seemed to flow from her pen like water. She said everything she could think of from mopping the spotless garage to how she flipped the electric switches to set off the alarm. When she was done, she was exhausted.

“Good job!” Detective Bryce flipped the pages of his notebook. “Five pages! This might be a record.” He turned it to the last page. “Just sign here for me, okay?”

Jane signed the notepad underneath her statement.

“I’d like you to remain up here for just a bit longer, in case we have any more questions. One of the officers will let you know when it’s okay to leave.”

Jane leaned back against the house and waited to be released from the scene… of the crime? Was
Douglas
murdered in his hot tub? She sincerely hoped not, and yet, murder seemed highly likely this time.