Read Online Good, Clean Murder by Traci Tyne Hilton - Free Book Online

She texted. “Will U want
BFast?” She flopped down on her pillow and hit ‘send.’ Did a text count as a
contractual agreement? She wondered what Isaac’s dad would have to say about
that.
    Isaac.
    Was tonight’s
coffee really a date? Did she want it to be? Was it against the rules for her
to date an instructor? These questions were far more welcome than the question
of how Marjory would take it when she saw Jane in the morning.

 
    Sleep was hard to
come by, but waking up was a breeze. Jane whipped herself out of bed, still wearing
the same clothes she had spent the day before in. Her laundry was moldering in
the Rabbit. Maybe when she negotiated her new position with Jake he would throw
in laundry room privileges.
    The bathrooms on
the top floor were clean and had soap and towels—Jane was particularly glad she
never scrimped on the upstairs work—but no bathtub. She gave herself a quick
scrub up and did her best to smooth her crumpled clothes. She wasn’t a pretty
sight. Marjory couldn’t possibly know her schedule so Jane’s current plan was
to sneak down the back steps, retrieve her shoes from the mudroom and then
enter the kitchen as though it were all perfectly normal.
    Jane flicked the
light off and shut the door.
    “Hey!”
    Jane jumped.
    “So what’s for
breakfast then?” Jake seemed to fill the narrow hallway. He leaned on one wall
with his outstretched arm, his legs crossed at the ankle all the way to the
other wall. He smelled like he had been drinking, and like Jane still had on
yesterday’s clothes.
    “Whatever you
like.” Jane tried to duck past.
    Jake stood up.
“I’m glad you decided to have sympathy on me.”
    “It seemed…like
the right thing to do.”
    “Eggs. And
pancakes.” Jake let Jane pass.
    She hustled down
the stairs, but he stayed at her heels.
    “Scratch that.
Eggs, bacon, and waffles. Do we have any bacon?”
    “I’ll look.”
    “Jane, tell me
again why you clean houses?”
    “To make money,
Jake.”
    “Yeah, but don’t
you have money? I mean, I thought you Adlers had money.”
    “My parents have
money. And I have work, so, that’s like having money, in its own special way.
You wouldn’t know.” Jane rounded the corner into the kitchen. The sun had yet
to rise. The kitchen windows were black as night above the checkered café
curtains.
    “It’s too early
for sarcasm.” Jake caught up with her, but bumped into the doorjamb. He leaned
on it, making puppy eyes at Jane.
    “My apologies.”
    “I understand jobs ,
but if your parents have money why aren’t you a sorority sister like Phoebe?”
    “Where is Phoebe,
by the way?” Jane turned on the kitchen lights. She went straight for the
coffee pot. She could not manage Jake at five in the morning without coffee.
    “She’s at school
still. No point in coming here until the funeral, right?” Jake shuffled into
the kitchen, and heaved himself onto a stool.
    Jane rested her
hands on the kitchen island. “Jake, I’m a little worried about you. Your
parents…”
    “Are dead. I
know.”
    “But how are you
doing? Do you know what the stages of grief are? It’s early, I know, but I
think you may be in shock.” The coffeemaker burbled in the background. It was
beginning to smell like something worthwhile. Jane took a deep breath, letting
her nose fill up with the smell of hope.
    “I’m
self-medicating. It works. Where do we keep the bacon?” Jake opened the
refrigerator.
    “What time did you
get in last night?”
    “What are you, my
mom?” Jake tucked his head into the fridge like a dog digging for a bone.
    “I’m just
concerned.” Jane found her favorite coffee mug. She drummed her fingers on it,
waiting for the coffee machine light that indicated she could commence with
waking up.
    “If a young man in
crisis is going to properly self-medicate he can’t be expected to come home,
okay? It takes a full night to wipe away the grief.” Jake pulled himself out of
the refrigerator. “There isn’t