“Okay, now let's talk about who did come to the party and when."
“Well, the Johnsons, of course."
“The hillbillies next door?" Mel asked. "Were they here between eight-thirty and nine-thirty?”
“Why the times?"
“At eight-thirty I was watching Todd walk the little girl home," Mel said. "I looked at the Johnsons' decorations. No sign of a dead Santa and I'm sure I'd have noticed if there had been a struggle going on up on the roof."
“And at nine-thirty Julie discovered him," Jane added. "I see. I think the Johnsons were here the whole time. Billy Joe couldn't even walk through the house in his snowman costume without knocking things down. I can't imagine how he could have climbed a ladder in that outfit."
“Unless he removed it," Shelley said.
“Looked to me like it would have taken a helper to get him in and out of it," Jane said. "Didn't it button up the back? I think he and Tiffany were just too obvious to have sneaked out without being noticed."
“Why were they in costumes?" Mel asked. Jane shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe wherever they're from, a party always means a costume party. They obviously have a touch of exhibitionism about them, too, as you can tell from the house decorations."
“Okay, let's go house by house on the rest. Start at the corner."
“That's a couple with little kids who were, fortunately, at their grandparents' for the night or they might have brought them along. Terrors, those kids," Jane added. "One of them was actually kicked out of kindergarten for—"
“Jane!" Mel said sharply. "I don't care what the kid did in kindergarten. Were the couple here during the relevant time?"
“Yes, she was part of the crowd watching the movie. She has a real shrill laugh that I kept hearing. And he was in the basement with the guys.”
Mel was taking notes. "Names?" he asked, and wrote down her reply. "Your basement doesn't have an outside entrance, does it?”
Jane shook her head. "You've seen my basement, Mel. No outside exit. Shelley, who were the other guys in the basement?”
Shelley reeled off a couple names, which Mel wrote down along with the rest of the movie-watching crowd. Jane marked off the book rep who'd been gossiping with Mel's mother, a single mother who brought along her new baby and wouldn't even let anyone else hold it, and a skier with a broken leg and crutches. They'd accounted for about three-quarters of the people on the block.
Mel ran his hand through his hair. "We'll have to confirm all of them, but at least I know who's at the bottom of the priority list. Now, what about the others? Whose house is this empty box?"
“Oh, that's our Julie Newton. The dim bulb who caused all this," Jane said.
“You know where Julie was during that hour?"
“Up in my bedroom calling security people," Jane said, embarrassed now by that loony idea.
“Your bedroom overlooks the Johnson' house, doesn't it?" Mel said.
“Yes, I could see the top of the ladder poking up— Mel, you don't suspect Julie, do you?"
“Jane, my job is to suspect everyone. Do you know she was there? Could she have seen Lance King climbing the ladder?"
“I–I guess so. And she told me she couldn't get any security people to come out. I have no way of knowing if she actually called anyone or not. But Julie's such a flake!"
“Flakes have been known to kill people," Mel said. "I want to check out your bedroom window.”
The three of them traipsed upstairs.
“Pretty good view in the daylight," Mel said, gazing toward the Johnson house. "And at night, with all the decorations lit up — there aren't any in the backyard, though. Is there a floodlight in back?”
Jane nodded. "My bedroom is lit up like a carnival at night from that window.”
There was a light tap on the door and Addie walked in. "Oh," she said with mock surprise — which she didn't do very well. "I didn't know Mel was here," she said.
“And so am I, Mrs. VanDyne," Shelley said, coming out of Jane's bathroom where she'd been checking out the view from another window. Her grin was wicked.
Jane almost laughed. Addie must have heard them come upstairs and was checking out just what Mel was doing in Jane's bedroom in the middle of the morning.
Mel, of course, didn't get it. "Oh, hi, Mom. I thought you were sleeping in.”
She laughed patronizingly. "You know I never sleep late. I'm so used to being up early to work.”
Was that a dig at me? Jane wondered. Or am I looking for digs?
Shelley, Mel, and Addie went back downstairs and Jane stayed behind to bang on the kids' bedroom doors, alerting them that it was time to get up. If she let them start sleeping late this early in the vacation, they'd be staying up all night and keeping her awake.
When she rejoined the others in the kitchen, Mel and Shelley were sitting across from each other at the table, not speaking. It was a vaguely ominous silence.
“Mel's asking about Bruce Pargeter," Shelley said.
“Oh," Jane said, remembering the horrifying story of the sinkhole that he'd told them. She quickly weighed her options. Bruce hadn't sworn them to secrecy, nor would she have kept a secret that might have unraveled a murder. On the other hand, Bruce had implied that his family's story wasn't something he wanted spread around and she didn't want to spill it in front of Addie. It simply wasn't any of her business. Or anybody else's unless it was relevant to Mel's investigation.
She took a deep breath and said, "Mel, Bruce told us something about an experience he had with Lance King. I'm sure he'll tell you if you ask him. But I don't think Shelley and I have any right to blab about it unless he refuses to talk to you.”
Addie, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee, spoke up. "Jane, my son is a detective investigating a serious crime — the murder of a man who had been in your house only a few minutes before his death. You haven't any right to withhold information from him.”
Jane felt a violent flush crawling up her neck and heard Shelley's sharp intake of breath. But Mel saved them.
“Mom, Jane is being honorable. As she always is. Which is one of the many reasons I love her.”
Jane started to get teary. Addie, however, gasped and turned pale at the word "love." She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, set her coffee cup down with exaggerated care, and marched out of the room and upstairs.
“She didn't know?" Shelley asked.
“I don't know how she couldn't," Mel said, confused by his mother's storm of emotion, repressed as it was.
Shelley mouthed, "Men!" and Jane smiled. Mel wasn't fretting about his mother. He'd gone back to their map of the block. "Who's here? Oh, the little girl. What's her name?”
“Pet. Patricia Dwyer," Jane said.
“Why weren't her parents here? Or did they leave earlier?"
“Her father's a widower. Does something with computers and was working under a deadline, I guess. He didn't bother to respond to my invitation. Just didn't show up."