Health, Wealth, and Murder (20 page)

Jane sat down. She let Francine continue her questioning while she ran different scenarios through her mind.

If Tiffany had absolutely been in the computer room at the hotel while Theo and Robert were being kidnapped, could Lucas have overpowered the two of them? Lucas wasn’t particularly fit, so it seemed unlikely. What if he had thrown the rock and then used the car to overpower them? Maybe he had run them over, or something like that.

Or what if one of the other two men was in on it? Tiffany was safely in her computer lab, and Lucas was absolutely confident of not getting caught, so he completely vouched for her alibi. Then, he and Robert overpowered Theo, beat him, and dumped him to die.

But if they had already murdered once, why not make sure they had finished the job with Theo?

Jane exhaled slowly. Who had stabbed Christiana while Lucas was preaching? Tiffany, who had managed to slip away after being knocked from her wheelchair, or Robert, who was supposed to be missing during the event?

In the background she had heard Lucas and Tiffany make the expected lies. Resting and at computers, or together. Horrified by the stabbing. So relieved that Theo was back. Etc. etc.

“What happened after my cousin Gemma knocked you out of your wheelchair, Tiffany?” Jane asked suddenly.

“What?” Tiffany jumped. She had been giving Francine her full attention and appeared to have forgotten Jane. “I did get pushed out of my chair, didn’t I? I don’t know, I just sort of got in the pew. It was fine.”

“Could you see her from where you were preaching, Lucas?” Jane expected him to say yes, of course. But she wanted to see him say it.

Lucas frowned. Then he turned to Tiffany and shook his head.

“Of course he did. I was right up front, in my usual spot.”

“No, you weren’t.” Lucas shifted in his seat. “Are you sure you remember correctly, babe? I mean, you are pretty strong, really, and had been in the chair most of the day. Did you walk further away, to get a more comfortable spot?” His brows were pulled together in a look of concentration.

“Babe, I was too there, just like always.” Tiffany smiled, but her eyes were shooting daggers.

“No, you weren’t. Why are you lying?” Lucas scooted his chair back from the table. His knees shook convulsively. “Tiffany, what aren’t you telling me?” He stared at her, his eyes huge.

Jane’s own legs had begun to shake as well, and her heart rate was off the charts. Lucas was
actually
a psychopath. He had to be, and so none of them were safe.

“Babe, relax.” Tiffany laughed softly. “You remember how bad the lighting was and all of that rigging and the screens and stuff. You just couldn’t see me.” She laughed again, but more awkwardly. “Especially with all of the lights in your eyes.”

For a moment his face relaxed. Then he shook his head again, slowly, and a look of horror came over him. “Tiff, tell me you didn’t.”

“What? What didn’t I do?”

Nick got up and crossed the room slowly until he was next to Wendy. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Tiffany, we need to talk…” Lucas looked from Tiffany to Francine, and back to Tiffany again, fear fighting with disgust.

“I think we all need to talk to the police.” Jane’s voice was much calmer than she felt. She had managed, for the first time this case, to master her emotions so she could project authority. She was so proud of herself that a grin broke out, but she quickly stifled it.

“You just did.” Wendy’s voice quavered. “I dialed the cops just like Francine told us to, and they’ve been listening to this whole conversation.” She held up a cell phone that had been concealed in her hand. “Are you still there?” she asked.

“We’re still here. We’re sending an officer to the location to clear up some questions.” The voice on the phone sounded distant, and alien, but wonderful at the same time.

Tiffany stood up.

She bolted for the door, crossing the room with that fleet-footed strength Jane had gotten a glimpse of once before.

Francine stuck out her arm and caught her.

Jane, eyes on Tiffany’s feet, saw them waver and almost fail her, the appearance of strength being just that. Perhaps her disability wasn’t as bad as she put on, but she didn’t truly have the strength or power to overcome two men without the help of her husband.

“Tiffany, don’t. Please.” Lucas’s voice broke. Then he buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

“Stop it.” Nick stood up with force. “Stop the charade, Lucas. Stop blaming your wife for what could have only been your plan. I’ve watched you. I’ve been watching you. You wanted what my parents had. You wanted it from the beginning and did anything you could to get it.”

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear.” Lucas fell to his knees, forehead to the floor, sobbing.

Jane was disgusted, and from the look on her face, so was Tiffany.

But why wasn’t she saying anything?

She stood there, letting Francine hold her. Not accusing her husband, not saying anything about what he had done. Just…letting him cry with a look of pure disgust on her face.

“Tiffany, where is Robert?” Jane asked.

Tiffany shrugged.

“Were you driving the car while he beat Theo?” Jane sat on the edge of her seat, fairly sure if she stood up, she’d be as weak as Tiffany looked. She was overwhelmed by the ideas rolling over her as she watched the drama unfold.

Tiffany let the faintest of smiles cross her lips.

“You knew Robert was a hired bodyguard. That he could be bought by the highest bidder.”

Tiffany’s face resumed its disgusted look.

“And Theo thought he got rid of the LSD when he gave it to you, but really you sold it to pay Robert to get rid of another Malachi or two, right?”

Nobody moved, and even Lucas’s sobbing had stopped.

“And he’s somewhere nearby to take out Nick, only we popped in, so you couldn’t keep going.”

“Not Robert,” Francine whispered.

“Robert wasn’t saved,” Jane reminded her. “He wasn’t…going to come around, even if you had fallen for him. I’m so sorry.” She tried to look sympathetic for Francine, but there was always a cost when you fell in love with someone unsaved, and Francine was going to have to accept that, and grieve it like everyone else who made the same mistake. “You hired Robert because you wanted Lucas to take over the ministry. Because he was better at it than Josiah.” She looked at Lucas, his forehead still to the floor, his shoulders shaking. “Because he is a better man than Josiah. Lucas…” Jane paused. “Lucas is as good as he seems. So you wanted more for him.”

Lucas slowly pulled himself up and looked at Jane. “Please stop. I’m not good. I’m not better than anyone else.”

“Oh, shut up.” Tiffany spit the words out.

“Lucas really was resting. And when Lucas was out of the sound booth the night of the murder, it really was because he was too sick. Maybe even because you made sure he was too sick.” Jane stood up finally and moved to the window to watch for the cops. “You were protecting him because he is good, and because you love him. But, why aren’t you good?”

Tiffany wrenched her arm from Francine’s, but she wobbled, and Francine steadied her again.

“Oh no.” Jane’s mind had gone back to Psych 101. “Oh, Tiffany, when did you come to America? How long were you in the orphanage?”

“She was there her whole life,” Lucas said. “I met her there, with the ministry. She was eighteen, and no one had ever adopted her.” He wiped the tears from his cheek with a fist. “I loved her immediately. Just look at her.”

Jane did look. Tiffany was a stunning beauty with her cascading black hair and huge black eyes. She had full red lips, and perfect skin like a Photoshopped supermodel. Of course he had loved her at first sight.

“Lucas, are you familiar with attachment disorder? When a person fails to bond with their caregiver as a baby, they develop attachment disorder, which ranges in severity, but in most cases leads to a sort of sociopathic inability to empathize with others and view them as actual people.”

Tiffany’s face didn’t register anything to this news, this claim that the life she was unfortunate enough to have been born into may have left her…crazy.

“But that’s not Tiffany.” Lucas spoke soft, and gently. “Not my Tiffany. Everyone at the orphanage loved her. Adored her. They hated me for taking her away.” He sat back on his feet. “Tell them, Tiff, tell them that you bonded with your family there.”

Tiffany stared at him with stony silence.

“They were her family, really they were.”

“It’s just one theory,” Jane said. “But we’re all born sinners, and only Christ can make any of us any different.” Lucas needed to hear something else now; he didn’t look like he could take any more bad news about his wife. But Jane was pretty sure she was right. That the harsh conditions of her growing up could account for why she was able to do away with her bosses, and their sons, with such ease.

A knock at the front door broke the silence. Wendy got up and opened it. Two police officers came in and took over the conversation.

Tiffany confessed nothing, but Lucas refused to give her an alibi for any of the dates in question, so they took her down to the station for further questioning. Lucas stood by her side, though.

He demanded she tell the truth, but swore he would find a good lawyer.

Two days later Jane and Francine went to the hospital to sit with Christiana. The stab wound had necessitated surgery, and she was now resting in recovery. With Josiah long gone, Tiffany under arrest, and a warrant out for Robert, who Theo said had beat him and left him for dead in the thick of the forest on the mountain, everyone was ready to sit together and hear Christiana’s side of the story. 

Theo had also said after hiking out of the woods and catching the bus back into town, he was pretty sure he had seen the car he had been hauled away in at a doctor’s office. Unfortunately, that lead had come up empty and Robert was still missing.

“Theo, I owe you an apology.” Jane was getting good at these, which made them easier, but still not what she’d call fun.

Theo gazed past her, his eyes still shadowed and tired. “What?”

“I think I ruined something of yours. The thumb drive on the cat’s collar…I thought it might have evidence that could help us catch Lucas and Tiffany.”

“And instead you found my sorry attempts at writing worship music.”

“Not exactly.” She rubbed her thumbnail and willed herself to not look away from him. “I’m really sorry, but I broke it.”

“Nick would say I broke it, by saving my sorry music on it.” Theo smiled wryly. “It’s not a problem, Girl Detective. You were just trying to do your job.” His shoulders were slumped and his face registered very little emotion, except exhaustion. He looked like a strong course of antidepressants wouldn’t be amiss.

“Can I ask…why on the cat’s collar?”

Theo shrugged. “Sis was the only one who ever liked my music.” He just stared at his hands, so Jane dropped the subject.

Christiana coughed into her hand and then broke the awkward silence that followed Theo’s words. “Wilt didn’t like the ministry, so he took Haven from me.” She looked around the room with wide eyes, trying to get one of her boys to connect with her. “It was religious discrimination—but how could I fight it? I couldn’t.”

“It wasn’t really discrimination, though, was it, Christiana?” Francine’s voice was gentle, as it had been with Stacy. “Tell your boys the real reason why Haven had to leave.”

Christiana shook her head. “No, that was it. Discrimination against our faith.”

“What was it really, Francine?” Nick’s face contorted. As opposed to Theo’s complete disengagement, anguish seemed to eat at Nick from the inside.

“You can tell us. I think it’s time.” Francine laid her hand on Christiana’s back, and Christiana did not move away.

“I never wanted this life.” Christiana wiped her eyes. “You know that, right, boys? When your dad’s business took off, I couldn’t take it. It was wrong of me to leave my first marriage, but it was so scary. He was always gone, and the money was…it was just so unstable. One day we’d be rich, the next we’d be broke. I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I was better off alone. But then I met a nice preacher.” A sweet look of nostalgia passed over her face. “The quiet church life sounded perfect.”

“But it hasn’t been quiet in a long time,” Francine said.

“It was never quiet.” Christiana pressed her hand to her forehead. “I was confused. If this was what Jesus wanted, how could I want Jesus? I rebelled. When I met Wilt, I just wanted out. Leaving had worked once; I thought it would work again.” Her face went white; even her lips paled, bloodless. “But it was wrong. I begged for forgiveness, and received it, from God and Josiah. And I vowed—again—to be faithful to both of them.”

“When did you realize that Josiah wasn’t who he claimed to be?” The tender look on Francine’s face nearly did Jane in.

Jane sucked back her tears and prayed that Christiana could have a new moment, be born again, all over again. Or something like that. That she could purge her demons and move forward with her life.

“Josiah was never wrong.”

“But the LSD?” Theo asked. “That’s not very much like any other church on earth.”

Christiana took a deep, gulpy breath. “It looks bad from the outside. I know. But I think Josiah meant well. He did. He never meant to deceive or to harm.”

“But what about the baking soda and vinegar?” His voice was ragged and matched the pain that worked over his features.

“He just wanted to force people to believe. He was tired of excuses…” Christiana’s shoulders slumped.

The mention of the LSD was the nail that did her in. She had fought for Josiah for so long, but everyone in the room knew there was no way to excuse the drugs and the lying.

“Did Haven’s father find out about the drugs?” Jane asked.

Christiana nodded. “Yes. Wilt had agreed to let me put Josiah’s name on the birth certificate. His wife…his family…mine…” She sighed. “We had just agreed to act as though it had never happened, for everyone’s sake. But Wilt came to see her when we were in Ohio, where he lived. And he found out about the drugs. Someone told him, but I don’t know who.”

“Did Josiah tell him?”

Christiana’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean?”

“Did Josiah tell him about the drugs so Wilt would take your daughter away?” Jane asked simply, without any extra emotion, either kind or harsh. She didn’t want to coddle Christiana. Not when so much of this had been her own doing.

“He must have, because Wilt came to me and said he’d demand a DNA test. That he’d take me to court. He, he’s a doctor, you see. In the ER, and, and he didn’t want her around the drugs. What could I do? I explained and explained that the kids didn’t know, that they’d never know. But Josiah…oh,
help me.
” Her cry sounded like a desperate appeal to her savior. “He did it, didn’t he? He told Wilt about the LSD.”

“He was a phony, Christiana. He was just out for money.” Francine kept her hand on Christiana, a soft but secure support.

“Josiah told me I had to give her away. That I had to for the ministry, so that we could help people. He took her away from me…” She stopped, just silent. No sobbing, no sighing. No more words.

“You can have her back now, Mom.” Theo looked up, finally. “I gave it all to Tiffany to get rid of. The drugs are gone. We can go back to Ohio, live near her. We can get Sis back. Okay?”

Christiana nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“He’s right,” Francine said. “You can start over now. Go back to Ohio. Find your daughter. Mend that relationship.” She swallowed. “You can mend your relationship with God, as well.”

Christiana looked up at her.

“Right now, it doesn’t feel possible, I know. But you can. Whatever demons you have been fighting inside, after all these years with Josiah, they can be gone. Done. All of that is over, and God…remember the simple church life you longed for? God is the Prince of Peace, and you can have all of that now.” Francine stopped and let her words linger.

Jane liked it. What Christiana needed, had longed for all this time, was the Prince of Peace. And if her guesses were right, Francine and Nick would help her, and maybe Theo, learn to believe again.

But first they’d all have to go through the awful public trial sure to follow the murder of a world-famous preacher by the pretty orphan in the wheelchair. It was almost too much to think of. Jane prayed that God would give them the strength to weather the storms ahead.

Then she slipped out of the hospital room, to give them privacy as they made plans for their future. She would add the Malachi family to her permanent prayer list. And Tiffany and Lucas as well, since they would need God now more than ever.

As for herself, she needed Jake. He had been MIA too long, and she knew he was waiting at his big, lonely house for a little company, so that’s exactly what she intended to give him.

Jane kicked back on the leather sofa in Jake’s den. She laid her hand over her eyes and let out a sigh. “I was totally almost right. I’ll never get any credit for it, but really, all things said and done, that was a good piece of detective work.”

“Um hm.” Jake set his feet on the matching leather ottoman, one at a time, like his knees were bothering him, or he was ninety years old.

“It took a while, but who else would have suspected the sweet girl in the wheelchair? Sure, I was wrong about her husband, but that’s a minor point. And without any physical evidence. It was all observation and deduction, you know?” Despite her overwhelming fatigue, Jane grinned. “I could get used to being right.”

“Um hm.”

“What’s eating at you?” It had been days since they had exchanged more than a quick text, and though she was dying to rehash every detail of the case, it wasn’t any fun if he wasn’t going to listen. And, using her own skills of deduction, she thought it seemed like something was bothering him.

Jake took a deep breath. “You know the Crawford Family Restaurant Corporation?”

“Uh, yes, I do.” Jane laughed. “Founded by Robert Crawford Sr. in 1950, operating Roly Burger, the Burger with the Roly-Poly Bun, for over sixty years and, more recently, Yo-Heaven, what Yogurt will be like in Heaven.”

“Yeah, those guys.”

“What about them?”

“They fired me.” Jake’s monotone voice revealed nothing, but his slumped posture and sluggish movements for the last fifteen minutes said he wasn’t happy about it.

“What?”

“Exactly my sentiments.”

“Okay, hold on. You are the owner and CEO, right? How exactly can they fire you?”

“The board of directors has had time to go over the many, many board meeting minutes from the year between Dad’s heart attack and his death. They found ‘compelling evidence’ to support turning the Maywood Roly Burger into a Yo-Heaven.”

“Oh no.” Jane sat up.

“I wanted that location to stay hamburgers for Grandpa’s sake. And for memories and nostalgia. And because the burgers are great. And also so that that bum, the mayor of Maywood, wouldn’t get his own way.”

“How could the board decide in the mayor’s favor instead of yours?”

“All those meeting minutes. Dad’s intentions were loud and clear. And even though I inherited Dad’s shares, Phoebe got Mom’s. And unlike Dad and Mom, Phoebe and I aren’t a perfectly united front. The board had more votes than I did all by myself.”

“But that doesn’t explain why they fired you. That seems like a big overreaction.”

Jake just nodded.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m just really bad at running a corporation. Apparently I’m not in my office doing office stuff as much as I should be.”

“Ahh.” A wave of guilt washed over Jane. She was pretty sure most of the times the flashy Jag had escorted her on detective business were actually times it ought to have been parked in the corporate office parking lot, down in Maywood, and Jake ought to have been parked at his desk.

“Did they give the job to your cousin Jeff?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“You once told me he would have been better at it.”

“He is.”

“That day I met Francine at your office, but the assistant wouldn’t let me in. Who were you fighting with?”

“Aunt Marjory. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Jane moved to the floor next to Jake and rested her head on his knee. “It’ll be fine, though. Don’t worry about it.”

“The house is in a family trust.”

“What does that mean for you?” Jane traced the seam of his jeans. She wasn’t sure about the house, but she was fairly sure he’d have to stop buying two-hundred-dollar jeans.

“It means I have to get a job that pays the rent, or move out.”

Jane kissed his knee. “That stinks.”

“But it’s great about the murder thing. I’m proud of you.” Jake ran his fingers through her hair.

“It feels a bit shallow considering your news.” Jane turned her head so he could wind the length of her straight hair around his hand, and hoped it was as calming to him as it was to her. “What do you need to do next?”

“Remember the gig I had in Thailand?”

“Of course.”

“Great Commission International, the parent organization, wants to talk to me about a position in fundraising and development. Their head office is in Colorado Springs. I’m leaving Tuesday for a week of conversation about possibilities.”

Jane swallowed hard. “Would you have to move to Colorado?”

“I guess I’ll find out after a weeklong conversation.”

Jane pressed her face to his leg and didn’t say anything. Her thoughts swirled around like Dr. Seuss had written them. She loved Jake here or there, near or far. This wasn’t at all like when Isaac moved to Canada and her whole spirit revolted against it. When Jake said the word “Thailand,” her heart had said, “Yes!” And then, when he had said, “Colorado Springs,” her heart responded, “Anywhere!” It was a new, exciting feeling, and she liked it. Here or there, near or far. “Can I come?” she whispered, embarrassed to ask to tag along, but dying to hear him say yes.

“Without a chaperone? Nope.” Jake laughed, but his voice sounded more relaxed, even happy.

“Do you want to do fundraising and development for this missions organization?” Jane asked.

“Yes. I’d rather run away with them again, but barring that, I would love to raise money to save lives and souls around the world. Wouldn’t you?”