Authors: Fern Michaels
Plain Jane (35 page)
“A smart lawyer would cover that right away,” Jane said.
“He'd say Todd broke the engagement, Connie was despondent, girls keep diaries, and sometimes they're fanciful. Your buddy, Todd, is going to skate. Isn't that the term they use on those crime shows?” She felt no pity where these two were concerned. But neither did she feel glad that she'd finally brought them to their knees.
“Won't you help us?” Mitch Iverson pleaded.
“There's nothing I can do. As I told Brian, it's out of my hands. I've turned all the evidence over to my attorney, who turned it over to the police in Baton Rouge. And don't even think about asking me to lie. Connie Bryan's parents lost their only child, Connie is dead, and I've spent the best years of my life plagued with guilt because I felt like I didn't do enough to help her. Like it or not, gentlemen, you all were part of it, and now it's time to fess up.” She sat opposite them, clutching a small pillow. “I don't know anything about the law, but I can tell you that Louisiana is still under the Napoleonic Code as opposed to all the other states, that go by case law. That could be bad for you. I suggest you all get together, talk things out, and see what you can do so you can help yourselves. You know, character witnesses. Job records. That sort of thing. Don't forget your buddy, Todd, is involved. You might want to put him on notice, too.”
“Listen, Doc, how would you feel about hosting a meeting with all seven of us?” Brian asked.
“To what end, Brian?”
“The rest of them need to hear it all from you. Will you do it, Doc?”
Once a fool, always a fool. “Sure. How about tomorrow night, eight o'clock?”
Three heads nodded. “Okay, I'll see you all here at that time. Call me if the others don't agree. Don't take up my time with just one. It's all or nothing, and that means Todd, too.”
Jane heaved a sigh of relief when the taillights of Brian's car faded into the night. It wouldn't happen. She was almost sure of it. But if it did, she was going to need a plan.
18
The bulldozer and the well diggers' equipment stood idle as the men stared in dumbfounded amazement at the skeleton resting at the bottom of the well.
“I guess those stories were true after all,” the foreman said. “Tuben, fetch Ms. Lewis. Henry, get me my cell phone so I can call the police.”
Jane wiped her hands on the dish towel as she followed Danny Tuben out to the site of the old well. Tears burned her eyes when she saw the skeletonâBilly Jensen. All she could do was stare while Olive wiggled her way in between her legs, whimpering softly.
“What do you think we should do, ma'am?” the foreman asked. “This is your property. I called the police, but I think they'll leave the decision up to you. You certainly have enough acreage here to bury the boy's remains.”
Jane found her voice. “We can't . . . we can't just . . . I'll call . . . what I'll do is call the funeral home and have them bring out a . . . a coffin and we'll give him a proper burial in the flower garden if the police say it's okay. You have the machinery to do that, don't you?”
“Yes, ma'am, we can do that. You pick the spot.” He turned to his men. “Don't disturb anything, guys. The police and the coroner need to do their thing first.”
Jane pointed to the far side of the flower garden. “Right in there, someplace. Did you find a boulder in the well?”
“Sure did, ma'am,” he said, pointing to the back hoe. “It was bigger than a bushel basket. My guess is it's what killed the boy if it fell on him. Then, of course, he could have drowned.”
“Please, I don't want to talk about it,” Jane said as she eyed the boulder. “I want you to take it away or smash it up but don't leave it here. If I have to pay extra, I will. Just do it.” She ran to the house, Olive at her side.
Jane dialed the funeral home first, then Father John. She heard the police siren and wondered what the emergency was. The boy had been dead for over a hundred years. What was the hurry now? She felt like crying.
Every emotion she'd ever felt in her life seemed to attack her at once. She ran through the house calling Billy's name. After searching the second floor and still not finding him, she gave up. “I think he's gone, Olive. He's already crossed to the other side, and we didn't get to say good-bye. I didn't think it would happen so quick. I thought there would be time . . .”
Olive dropped to her belly and whimpered.
Jane sat down on the bed and sobbed her misery. What seemed like a long time later, she wiped at her red eyes, then, with Olive at her side, she walked downstairs to open the front door.
Father John was coming up the porch steps. “Don't you worry, Jane, I'll take care of everything. The police said it was okay to move the . . . remains, so I'll lay out the skeleton in the casket and seal it up. Then I'll say a prayer and we'll lower it into the ground.”
“His name . . . his name was Billy Jensen,” Jane said, then pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the strangled sounds that were about to erupt.
It was five-thirty when Jane walked away from the flower garden. She felt like she'd lost one of her best friends. The urge to cry was so strong she had to bite down on her lip as she made her way to the old well. The boulder was gone and the hole filled in. The workers were grading the soil as she watched. Piles and piles of rock and brick waited to be carried away. In another hour, the ground would be level and no one would ever know there had once been a well on the spot. Maybe in the spring she'd lay some sod and perhaps plant a shade tree and some flowers around the base. Maybe she could make it look like the old trees on Tulip Street. Billy would like that if he ever came back. He could sit under the tree and watch Jeeter dig up the flowers. When the tears she'd been trying to hold in check burst from her eyes, she ran into the house.
It was late, and she had to get her act together. Since she hadn't heard from Brian, she assumed the meeting was going to come off on schedule. That meant she had to call Trixie and put her plan into action. If she had anything to be grateful for, it was that Mike had gone to his parents for the weekend to bring his father home from the hospital. The elder Sorenson had undergone knee-replacement surgery, and Mike wanted to be on hand to make sure his father did what the doctor ordered. Mike definitely would not approve of this little meeting tonight. She was grateful also that Trixie had somehow blown off her head cold by drinking eight ounces of Kentucky bourbon and was back on the job. Without Trixie, there would be no way to carry out her plan.
“Let's go upstairs, Olive. Come on, girl. It's not the end of the world even though it seems like it at the moment. I have to get ready for this evening. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes, then I'll fix us some supper.” Olive sat looking up at her, her tail still against the floor. “Please, Olive, you're making me feel bad. God, if you could only talk.” When the springer wouldn't budge, Jane sat down on the floor and cuddled with the dog. “Billy and Jeeter didn't belong here, Olive. They sort of went home. It wasn't fair to keep them here when I had the . . . power . . . for want of a better word, to . . . to make things right. Look, I don't know if this is real or not. Whatever it is, we have to live with it. Don't make me carry you, Olive. Get up!” she said in her most authoritative voice. Olive whimpered but obeyed the command, followed Jane upstairs, and headed for her bed in the corner. She never slept in the bed, but she did keep all her toys and treasures along with a bunch of dog bones in it.
Jane was on her way into the bathroom when Olive started barking. It was such a loud, joyous bark that Jane turned around to see what was going on. Olive was nosing her sheepskin bed. Jane walked over for a closer look. On top of a pile of stuffed animals was a tattered burlap ball tied together with a vine. Jane watched as the springer gently nosed the ball from the pile of toys and bones. When it toppled onto the floor, she rolled it toward Jane.
“It's Jeeter's isn't it, Olive?” She smothered a sob. “He left you his ball. See, I told you it was okay.” She watched as Olive flopped down and worked the ball until it was under her chin. Once she had it secure, she sighed with contentment and closed her eyes.
“Thanks, Billy,” Jane said. She waited to see if there would be a response. When nothing happened, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and once more headed for the shower.
Â
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Jane watched their arrival from the small window on the first-floor stair landing. Brian must have used some extraordinary force or else he was more verbal than she had previously given him credit for. They were all there, even Todd Prentice. But they were in two groupsâthe good guys, as she more or less thought of them: Brian, Tony, and Mitch. And the bad guys: Marcus, Ben, and Pete. Todd Prentice brought up the rear. The pariah. Even a blind fool could see the others were distancing themselves from Todd.
Long years of hatred bubbled in Jane as she stared with narrowed eyes at the men responsible for Connie Bryan's death. She wished she had the guts to shoot them dead on the spot. She mumbled a prayer that she wouldn't do something she would regret later on. The bastards were actually there, in her house. She closed her eyes for a moment to ward off a wave of dizziness. She thought she could feel strong hands pinning her arms to her side, thought she could smell her own fear and Connie's as well.
When the doorbell rang, Jane almost jumped out of her skin. She made her way to the door taking deep breaths as she went along.
“Gentlemen, come in. Let's go into the living room. I can offer you coffee or beer.” There were no takers.
Why in hell am I acting so civilized? Because I am, and they aren't,
she answered herself.
Why in hell am I acting so civilized? Because I am, and they aren't,
she answered herself.
Jane's furniture was arranged in a
U
to take advantage of the beautiful fireplace. Four of the seven ex-football players squeezed together on the couch behind the coffee table. Two others sat in overstuffed chairs at each end of the coffee table, and Todd sat in one of the two straight-backed chairs flanking the fireplace.
U
to take advantage of the beautiful fireplace. Four of the seven ex-football players squeezed together on the couch behind the coffee table. Two others sat in overstuffed chairs at each end of the coffee table, and Todd sat in one of the two straight-backed chairs flanking the fireplace.
Marcus pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”
“No. Go right ahead.” She opened the end-table drawer and took out two large ashtrays and set them down on the coffee table. Three of them lit up. Before long the room would be filled with smoke, and she'd have to air out the house.
Brian opened the discussion. “I told everyone what you told me, Doc. Pete, Ben, and Marcus don't seem to want to believe me. They say they didn't do anything but rough Connie up. I told them about your evidence. Maybe you should clarify it for them. They don't believe you were the other girl that night either,” Brian said, looking directly at her.
Jane hated being in the spotlight. They looked so big, so . . . menacing. Just the way they'd all looked on that dark night so long ago. She must have been out of her mind when she concocted this plan but now . . . Now it was too late. Displaying a confidence she didn't feel, she sat down and crossed her legs. “What Brian told you
is
the truth. I was the other girl, the one you didn't take into the bushes. If you still doubt me I have pictures . . . pictures of the bruises, cuts, and abrasions you inflicted on Connie. I also have,
had
rather, all the clothing she wore that night. The police have it now,” she lied, straight-faced. “Your DNA, gentlemen, has been preserved. While I can't show you the actual physical evidence, I can show you the pictures. What that means to all of you is you do not have one iota of wiggle room here.” She turned toward Todd. “The only one here tonight who wasn't physically at the scene is, you, Todd,” she said, retaining her affability even as her eyes narrowed in revulsion. She swung her gaze back to the others. “If you want him to walk away from this and continue to enjoy his good life while all of your lives go down the drain, then by all means keep lying for him.”
is
the truth. I was the other girl, the one you didn't take into the bushes. If you still doubt me I have pictures . . . pictures of the bruises, cuts, and abrasions you inflicted on Connie. I also have,
had
rather, all the clothing she wore that night. The police have it now,” she lied, straight-faced. “Your DNA, gentlemen, has been preserved. While I can't show you the actual physical evidence, I can show you the pictures. What that means to all of you is you do not have one iota of wiggle room here.” She turned toward Todd. “The only one here tonight who wasn't physically at the scene is, you, Todd,” she said, retaining her affability even as her eyes narrowed in revulsion. She swung her gaze back to the others. “If you want him to walk away from this and continue to enjoy his good life while all of your lives go down the drain, then by all means keep lying for him.”
Jane got up and walked over to the cherrywood secretary, opened the drawer, and withdrew a large envelope of computer-generated pictures, scanned from the Polaroid originals. She handed them to Brian to pass around.
“As you can see, the first three pictures are of Connie and the other pictures are her clothes, the ones that are full of your DNA. It only takes a drop, gentlemen, one tiny little drop, and bingo, a match! If you look carefully at the pictures, you will see her name label on the garments.” Perverse though it might be, she was enjoying their looks of fear. “Your legal fees are going to be astronomical. Your families are going to be sick over this. Your wives might even divorce you. And your kids will be tormented in school. No matter how you look at it, your lives are never going to be the same. Just the way my life was never the same after that awful night. We all know what happened to Connie.”
Jane walked behind the sofa where Marcus, Pete, and Ben were handing the pictures to one another. The moment she saw the scar on Marcus Appleton's hand something in her snapped. “You stick out in my mind most of all, you sick son of a bitch! I'm surprised you don't remember me. I'm the one who bit your hand and left you with that dandy little scar. You called me a beached whale and a tub of lard, remember? You're one of the reasons Connie Bryan is dead.”
Marcus leapt up off the couch and turned toward her. “I'm not listening to this. So what if I have a scar on my hand? Millions of people have scars on their hands. I don't even know who the hell you are. Ramsey here said you were going to go to our families and tell them some wild story. The only reason I'm here is to see for myself what kind of nutcase you are. Come on, guys, I'm leaving.” He took a step around the coffee table.
“Sit down, Mr. Appleton,” Jane said, pointing her finger at him. “You leave when I say you leave. Not one minute before.” She might have been holding a gun for the way he stopped midstride and stood statue-still. “What do the rest of you have to say for yourselves?”
“It was Todd's idea,” Pete blurted. “He had this plan. He said he'd get us all good jobs with his wife's family business. Back then, he used the word
girlfriend.”
girlfriend.”
“This is bullshit!” Todd yelled as he stood up, his hands clenched into fists.
Before he could say another word, Ben Nolan was in his face. “Don't try weaseling out, Prentice. If I go to jail for this, so are you. We go down, you go down.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Brian injected. “Mitch, Tony, and I had nothing to do with Connie's rape. The worst thing Tony and Mitch did was hold the doctor down. I was there, but I left before things got out of hand. Tony and Mitch can verify that. We'll take whatever punishment the courts want to inflict on us for that part of it, but that's it. The rest of you are on your own.”
“Don't try pushing this on me,” Prentice blustered. “You all acted independently. I didn't tell you to do anything, and you can't prove I did. I'm outta here.”
“Sit down, Todd,” Jane shouted, stopping him short. “Trixie, this might be a good time to bring in our big guns.”
Wearing his bulletproof vest and his badge, Flash, followed by Kimba, a soon-to-be K-9 graduate, trotted into the room, each coming around the
U
of furniture to stand next to the two fireplace chairs.
U
of furniture to stand next to the two fireplace chairs.
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