A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(75)

Jane stepped to the refrigerator, opened it, and then closed it again. “You two can catch each other up on things,” she said. “I’m going out to stock up on groceries. When I come back I’ll make us some dinner and tell you what I’ve learned so far.”

She saw Jimmy’s keys on the kitchen counter, took them, and put the Passat’s keys in their place, then went out the front door. She drove back out on Route 120, filled Jimmy’s Chevrolet Malibu with gas, then stopped at the Co-op. She bought lots of fresh meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit, and then filled her cart the rest of the way with a hoard of canned and frozen food so Jimmy and Mattie would not have to go out for a while.

When she returned she could see that mother and son had been talking. As she and Mattie worked together to make a dinner of chicken and vegetables and corn soup, Mattie seemed to be studying her whenever she wasn’t looking. Finally, while they were setting the table, Jane said, “So Jimmy told you about me.”

“Yes,” said Mattie. “Why didn’t you? I can keep a secret.”

“I don’t have only one secret.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jane said, “Over the years I’ve taken a lot of people out of lives that had gotten too dangerous. Who every one of those people used to be, who he is now, and where he lives, are all secrets. I may have made those secrets, but they don’t belong to me. Because I know them, I have a responsibility to keep myself from getting discovered and caught.” She held Mattie with her strange blue eyes. “Otherwise, there won’t be any more.”

“Any more what? People like Jimmy?”

She nodded. “If my own secret gets out, I’ll be useless to those people—the ones yet to come, the ones who may already be trying to find the way to me. There will be people who are running for their lives and need a door out of the world. The door won’t be there anymore.”

Mattie said, “He told me the clan mothers knew. I’d cut my throat before I told anyone else.”

“So would they,” said Jane. “Let’s hope nobody has to.”

They served the food, sat at the table, and ate together. When they had finished they said, “Nia:wen,” and Mattie and Jimmy stood to begin clearing the table.

“Sit,” said Jane. “I’ve learned some things, and you should know them too.”

They resumed their places, and Jane began to talk. She told them about Chelsea Schnell and the small house where Nick Bauermeister had been shot, about Bauermeister’s burglary kit and his cache of jewelry inside the salt sacks. She told them about Chelsea’s relationship with her dead boyfriend’s boss, Daniel Crane. She told them about the witness who said he’d sold Jimmy the murder weapon and his sudden show of wealth. Finally she told them she had retained Allison the lawyer and her partner Karen Alvarez. When she had finished, she smiled. “Dah-ne-hoh.” It was what Seneca storytellers said at the end of a story, and it meant “I have spoken.”

Mattie and Jimmy looked at her, then at each other, and then at Jane again. “Isn’t all that enough to get me off?” said Jimmy.

“Allison didn’t say it was,” Jane said. “And she’s the expert. A lot of people whose cases had what any sensible person would call reasonable doubt are sitting in prisons.”

“Well sure, but—”

“The victim was a burglar, but that doesn’t mean it was okay to kill him. His girlfriend is having an affair with his boss. That doesn’t prove that she or he wanted him dead, and certainly not that either of them killed him. If it came out, they would probably say they were comforting each other for their mutual loss. And it might be true. The witness who says he sold you the rifle has come up with money for new things, but nobody has demanded to know where he got it, and he seems to be a convincing liar. I wouldn’t want to go to court with that. Do you?”

“I guess not,” said Jimmy.

“Of course not,” Mattie said to him.

Jane said quietly, “And we still don’t know who these other people are who are so interested in getting rid of you. Until we know, I don’t think you can turn yourself in.”

Mattie said, “So what do we do now?”

Jane shrugged. “Jimmy has learned a lot about how to keep from being noticed. For the moment, the one who goes out and shops, or shows a face to the world, has to be you. And you shouldn’t do it very often.”

“Is that enough?” said Mattie. “Just sit here and hide?”

“For the moment. Keep to yourselves, live quietly, and let Jimmy stay out of sight most of the time. You’ve got gas in the car, a pantry full of food, and some money for when it runs out. Tomorrow I’m going to pay the rent that comes due next week, and the utility bills.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to where the murder happened,” Jane said. “It’s the only place I can find anything out.” She got up and carried some dishes to the sink, and the others joined her. In a few minutes, they had loaded and started the dishwasher, and they could hear the water rushing into it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the small leather pouches. “Ellen Dickerson sent you this.” She handed Jimmy the pouch.

He looked inside, then poured a little tobacco out into his hand and looked at it, and then returned it to the pouch. “That was nice of her. Maybe we should burn some before you go.”