Page 53 of Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

“Then we need to deal with the possibility that maybe the body in those photos isn’t really Caine.”

***

Eleven o’clock was a good time to meet at Coastal Flats. It was right at opening time in the middle of the week and the place wasn’t crowded like it would be in another hour or so. I spotted Jane as soon as we walked inside.

If anything she looked even thinner than the last time I’d seen her. Her face was pale and her lips thin. I don’t know what Jack said to her over the phone, but she didn’t look particularly happy to see us.

“Thanks for meeting us here, Jane,” Jack said, leaning in carefully to hug her.

“You didn’t give me a lot of choice. What’s all this about? Is something wrong? Have you found out more about John’s death? I really don’t feel like getting out, and I’ve got a lot of work to do at home.”

“Just relax,” he said. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

The hostess came over to seat us and I was surprised at how adamant Jane was about sitting indoors instead of out on the patio area. The weather was beautiful, but she seemed to shrink into herself even more at the thought of being out in the sunlight.

I hadn’t known Jane Elliott for very long, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that she needed psychological help. She’d been through a lot over the last six years, and from everything Jack had told me, the way she was acting now wasn’t normal. She’d been fine. She’d learned to live as the widow of a good cop, and had been strong while raising her children and being there for the one who’d struggled to live.

This woman didn’t look like the fighter I knew she was. She looked scared. And broken.The hostess sat us in a booth in the corner, and Jack sat with his back to the wall so he could see the front door and out the glass windows that went across the entire front. We ordered drinks and our food and got by on awkward small talk until they arrived.

“Tell me about Wives and Mothers of the Fallen,” Jack said.

Jane bobbled the hot tea she’d ordered and then wrapped her hands tightly around the mug. “I—I’m not sure I understand.”

“Jane,” Jack said with a resigned sigh. “We know you received payments from them fortwo years after John died. Are you a member of the organization?”

“Obviously you already know the answer to that question since you’ve been through my financial records.” Her shoulders straightened and she lifted her chin.

“Listen to me. I’m here to help you. I’ve always been here to help you. But you need to tell me the truth. The more we uncover about this organization, the more it appears they’re not all they seem to be.”

“They’re exactly what they say they are. They help women who’ve lost their husbands or sons, and that includes financially. I would have lost the house if they hadn’t stepped in after John died. I hadn’t worked in years since I’d elected to stay home with the girls after they were born, and I spent every waking minute at the hospital with Katie once she got sick. The benefits after John’s death came nowhere near to cutting it. I applied for membership to WMF and qualified for one of the grants they give out to those in need. Once I found a good paying position and I was back on my feet again, they stopped the payments.”

“Do you know ParisSpencer?”

She shook her head no. “The FBI already asked me that. I’ve never heard of her.”

“What about Grace Lieber?”

Jane looked away as she answered. “I recognize the name, but I don’t know her. I believe she does a lot of the charity work with the foundation.Really, Jack, this is all ridiculous. They gave me money when I needed it. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Jane was lying, and she wasn’t very good at it.She picked up her fork and I felt a slow fissure of unease ripple through me. Jane Elliott was left-handed. I wasn’t sure what made the thought pop into my head, but once it was there I couldn’t get rid of it. So I tested the waters, hoping to catch her off guard.

“How long after John died did Andrew Caine start coming around?”

If possible her face paled even more and she moved quickly, trying to get out of the booth and run away, but Jack grabbed her wrist and held her in place. She didn’t have the strength to struggle with him and she collapsed back in her seat and curled into herself.

“Jesus, Jane. It was you? You’re the one who killed him?” Jack dropped her wrist and I could see he was honestly floored by the realization. This was his friend. Someone he thought he’d known.

She rocked back and forth and a sob escaped, though she tried to hold it in. A couple of other diners glanced our way, and Jane turned her face so she was looking at the wall. No wonder she wasn’t looking good. The guilt of murder obviously weighed heavily on her.

“What am I going to do about my girls? What am I going to do?” The tears streamed down her cheeks and I wasn’t sure she was really with us mentally anymore. It seemed like she’d gone to her own place.

“You need to tell me what happened. The truth and every bit of it this time. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I did it. I killed him.”

Jack pushed her water glass toward her and she wrapped shaky hands around it, bringing it to her lips. “Just start at the beginning. When did you start having a relationship with Caine?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper.“He started coming around after John died, kind of like you and a couple of the others did. He’d fix things around the house or run errands if I needed anything and was stuck at the hospital with Katie. He was just so nice and I started to rely on him to be there. Nothing happened between us for years because I was a mess after John died. But then one day I woke up and realized Andrew was there, and I finally saw him as something more than a friend.”

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