Grime and Punishment

dispel the notion. Why in the world would Shelley do that, and what kind of friend would suspect her?
    “What were you doing in the school?“ Katie asked, flinging the door open and startling Jane.
    “Wasting time. Inadvertently volunteering to work at the carnival,“ Jane replied sourly.
    “Oh, Mother! Do you have to come?”
    No, Jane thought, with any luck I’ll die before then. Of course, that woman in charge would probably just prop her up behind the cotton candy booth and expect her to do her job anyway.

Eight

    Shelley phoned as Jane was running in the door. She explained that Paul didn’t want her to be frightened by staying in the house until the killer was found. They were going to a hotel ten miles away.
    “I don’t like hotels, and I don’t mind in the least staying in the house as long as he’s home, so I’ll talk him out of this tomorrow, but... dinner out and a night alone will be nice,“ she added in a husky whisper. “I’ve got a beautiful nightgown that Suzie talked me into buying months ago—“
    “Have you told him?“
    “No.“
    “Or the police?“
    “Detective VanDyne called, but they don’t seem to know anything. Either they’re blundering around in the dark or they’re just not telling us about their leads. Gotta go! Paul’s rattling the car keys. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Talk to you then.”
    As Jane was speaking, Edith was putting on her sweater and changing from the carpet slippers she wore to work in to more attractive shoes. The light blue van was already parked at the curb. Jane hadn’t had a chance to really look over the house, but planned to do so before the kids could start messing it up again. She handed Edith a five-dollar bill. The Happy Helper people would bill her for Edith’s services by mail, but it was customary to give an extra tip.
    Before she could escape to a quiet place to think over all Shelley had said, Katie reminded her that they hadn’t gotten their allowances the day before, due to the upheaval next door.
    “But I have to have my money today. Jenny and I are going shopping tonight.“
    “With whom?“
    “Oh, Mother!“
    “Don’t ‘oh, Mother’ me. You know I don’t approve of teenagers aimlessly cruising the mall.“
    “Mother, that’s so old-fashioned. Nobody else’s mother—“
    “You know what I’m going to say to that, no matter where the sentence is going, don’t you?“
    “I know. That you don’t care what anybody else’s mother does,“ she said in a singsong imitation of Jane’s refrain. “Anyway, Jenny’s mom is going with us. She’s getting some fabric, and Jenny is going to buy some false fingernails.”
    In other words, the whole dispute was theoretical, Jane thought. Sort of like testing a locked door at intervals just in case it might be unlocked. She remembered doing the same thing herself. She also remembered fake fingernails. She had put some on just before going to bed once when she was about that age and woke up with them all stuck in her hair. No point in telling Katie that. She’d find out for herself. Every generation has to reinvent the wheel.
    Jane went back down to the basement office. The kids weren’t the only ones who needed money. The five she had given Edith had been the last money in her billfold. Normally, she got their allowances and cash for groceries every Thursday morning, but this hadn’t exactly been a normal week. She had a carry-around checkbook for emergency expenses, but regular bills and this weekly cash withdrawal were always written from the money market checkbook she kept locked in the desk. Steve had started the system, and she’d stuck with it out of habit.
    She pulled open the middle drawer and reached under it for the little magnetic box stuck on the underside. Again, a policy of Steve’s she’d stayed with for no other reason than the fact that they’d always done it that way. From the box, she removed the key to the deep bottom right drawer. But the key wouldn’t go in. That was odd.
    She leaned over to see what the problem was. The little vertical slot was horizontal. The drawer was already unlocked. She must have failed to lock it last Friday. No, that wasn’t right. She remembered how annoyed she’d been because she’d broken her best fingernail when she had flipped the key back up last week. Had she opened it since then? She thought not; except for that hour earlier in the afternoon, she hadn’t even been in the office.
    Her suspicions