Methinks I See Thee, Jane

By Jean James and Mary James

Before JANE PATE and REGINALD FAIRCLOTH can plan a more romantic future, they are besieged by guests from England. Reginald’s father, Wilbur, and Reginald’s old fiancée, Helen, at once take Reginald off Jane’s hands and into Helen’s arms.

Jane rides the back seat while these three moneyed individuals show her she must fight for her self-esteem. When she sets out to prove she can do more than catch snakes and write critter books, she discovers a far more vital matter awaiting proof. The plight of one missing homeless man turns into a shocking revelation of nursing homes full of victims and a doctor who will have wealth at any cost.

Her pride and her great exposé forgotten, Jane races to save the next victim. When Reginald finds Jane breaking into offices, cracking safes, and burying stolen money, he does the only thing one would expect from Reginald Faircloth. He plunges into the situation in his own reckless style and proves he has played this game before.

Book one of the Pate and Faircloth series, Wherefore Art Thou, Jane? won first place at the Readers Favorite International Awards in the mystery division! Book 2, Methinks I See Thee, Jane, takes place only minutes after Wherefore Art Thou, Jane? ends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9780984860555

Book preview

tales.

While three agree, four plots war.

Jane, you can’t go home now—I need you. This blasted leg’s given out on me again. Come into my house where we can sit and chat. We have an important matter to discuss.

She turned around in surprise at the piteous note in his voice. Reginald seldom acted romantic, but the expression on his face did appear…amorous. She wondered if a poignant moment awaited her, like possibly one in his arms.

You wanted to discuss my new book ideas? Dead certain that books and publishing didn’t inhabit his thoughts at that moment, she rendered her innocent look and mentally tried on new names—Mrs. Reginald Faircloth, Jane Faircloth, Mrs. Jane Faircloth. Another glance at his face convinced her it was a silly idea, especially considering Reginald.

New book? Jane, we have a worthier subject to discuss than your critter books. I’ll publish more of them when your first book’s complete, but can’t you forget reptiles and creepy creatures for a few minutes and give me your attention? I’m in pain, confound it, and the doctor told me to stay off my feet.

I didn’t mean my nature books. I’m considering another genre. And if I remember correctly, the doctor didn’t tell you to stay off your feet. He told you to stay in the hospital.

How could I do that with you and José on the loose? He used his crutch to punctuate his words, and Jane decided he looked slightly less amorous now. I don’t want to see rattlers, marijuana, police cars, or anything remotely related to them until my leg’s recovered. No telling what you two might have gotten into if I’d stayed longer in the hospital. Someone had to look out for you.

He shifted the crutch back under his arm and hobbled across the plush yard to her.

Reginald, you’re the one who’s the worse for wear after our…our adventure. It’s debatable who needs supervision.

Are you volunteering, Jane? As keeper, I mean?

Keeper? That sounded promising. Visions of kisses and embraces danced in her head as she held her breath and wondered if more such words were imminent. Of course there were many types of keepers—housekeepers…groundskeepers…

In view of your past, I doubt I’d qualify as keeper. You need a full time body guard.

You know little enough about my past, and I jolly well know what I need. Come inside with me.

When he turned toward his house, she looked around at his beautiful estate—such a contrast to her rundown rental sixty miles inland in a not-so-great area. And his prestigious publishing house loomed high in exalted air and cast a somewhat large shadow over her future aspirations. Wealth and possessions didn’t tempt her, but they could cause problems.

Are you coming, Jane? He waited impatiently by his walk and wore a frown.

It didn’t look like a proposal frown. She turned her back to him and decided passion wasn’t on his mind at all. Maybe he wanted to discuss José’s citizenship or some other business matter. She probably couldn’t endure his bossy, sporadically snooty disposition on a daily basis anyway, and his family back in England might present more complications—more snootiness and more wealth.

She glanced his way just as a perplexed scowl clouded his face. His attention was on a white Cadillac that pulled hesitantly into the drive and came to a stop beside its twin. A bejeweled hand waved from the passenger’s side window proving it wasn’t someone asking directions.

Either your rental car has cloned or else you have company.

Blast! What now? His grumble and air of annoyance changed to a look of dismay. I must be daft. It’s…it’s Dad…and…and H-Helen? What are they doing here in the States?

Ahoy, Reggie! The woman on the passenger’s side waved more urgently as she exited the car. You look simply smashing for someone who’s supposed to be at death’s door.

Her curvaceous body, balanced precariously above five-inch heels, was ensconced in a dress nearly too tight for movement—but move she did, in a wobbly manner, directly into Reginald’s arms. It was difficult to ascertain whether Reginald returned her greeting and kiss as heartily as she delivered them.

A fine-looking elderly man, obviously Reginald’s dad, stepped from the driver’s seat and solemnly shook hands with his son. Their resemblance was noteworthy, though the father was taller and less muscular than Reginald. Jane remembered hearing that Reginald’s dad had suffered health problems and had retired from his publishing house, but this attractive man looked sound enough.

Reginald, I dare say you look fit, not in the least what I had anticipated. Your secretary called and suggested you might expire at any moment. Of course when Helen heard that I planned to hasten over here, she agreed to accompany me.

Anna called you? I told her not to notify anyone. She must have called when I was unconscious. She can’t comprehend the fact that a secretary’s supposed to follow orders. Well…you’re here now…you may as well stay the night.

The night? Helen shrieked in laughter. Did you hear that, Wilbur? She slapped him on the back, and after that Wilbur did look a trifle frail. My second trip to the States, my first to Florida, and Reggie thinks he can send us back to London without dinner! If there had been a funeral, Reggie, we’d have stayed at least a week to straighten your affairs. Now that matters are looking up, we intend to complicate your life until I satisfy the tourist in me—and anything else too.

Jane wondered what anything else encompassed. She stood uncomfortably in the background while her anticipated kiss rested on another woman’s lips. Past experience taught her that if a woman called him Reggie—look out! Instantly an unpleasant spasm shot through her memory. This Helen must be the former fiancée she had heard about. The name matched. Jane groaned inwardly and watched Helen cling to Reginald’s arm with a death grip.

Meanwhile, Wilbur studied Reginald’s Cadillac.

Nice motor car. Wilbur leaned over and looked in the window.

It’s not mine, it’s a rental. Mine’s at the airport. Jane and I planned to pick it up after I’d rested my leg for a while. I own a Lincoln. His smug expression said much.

You needn’t apologize. Lincolns are satisfactory conveyance. My Cadillac is a rental too. There wasn’t time to ship my Rolls. He winked at Helen and gave her a knowing smile. Before Reginald could defend his Lincoln, Wilbur stepped up to Jane.

Reginald is barely functioning in his present condition. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Wilbur Faircloth, Reginald’s father.

Jane Pate. I’m…I…I write. What could she say to this dignified, scholarly version of Reginald? If he had arrived later…much later…she possibly could have claimed a closer friendship with Reginald. I’m working on b-books for Reg. She would show them that she had a nickname for Reginald too.

Helen casually turned in her direction.

I’m Helen Buffington. Reggie and I are old, old friends…you know how it is. She turned her attention back to Reginald and began to caress his arm possessively.

Jane wanted to ask, How what is? but she wasn’t confident she would enjoy the answer. It could be more odious than the heavy scent of Helen’s perfume that wafted toward her uninvited. It didn’t matter anyway, because everyone had again forgotten her existence. It was a convenient time to leave, though she didn’t want Wilbur and Helen to discover she owned the tired compact truck parked over by the trees. It looked worse than usual because José had borrowed it for landscaping work and now dirt spots accompanied the rust spots. Just the same, she drifted casually in its direction.

Reggie, tell me about your newest wound, Helen pleaded. I’ve been dying to hear. Wilbur said a dreadful, big snake bit you, a rattlesnake. How on earth did that happen?

Reginald grabbed Jane’s wrist before she could escape. There was fiendish glee in his eyes.

Jane’s snake bit me.

Helen turned her attention to Jane.

Your snake bit him? Isn’t that ripping? I had a dog that used to bite him—a poodle. She never cared for Reggie. I named her Poo-poo—because that is all she ever learned how to do, and she…she did it everywhere! Helen laughed uproariously at her pun before continuing. What did you call your snake?

Dumbfounded for a second over the ridiculous turn of the conversation, Jane looked searchingly at Helen. Was she in earnest?

It didn’t have a name. She gave Reginald a disdainful glance. It wasn’t my snake.

Then what was it doing in your bag? Reginald asked.

Oh, did you carry it in your bag? Helen showed new interest. I had a friend once who had a Chihuahua. She kept it in her bag. It was a horrid little animal.

Not in my purse. Jane felt at a loss for words. My snake bag—one of my reptile collecting bags. I collect reptiles for…for…reptile places. She wondered if she looked as dumb as she sounded. I sell them, and I give lectures about them. And…and I take pictures of them for the book I’m writing. When I’m afield collecting, I carry the reptiles in cotton bags.

See! She admits it was in her bag. Reginald folded his arms and literally smirked.

Not when it struck your leg, it wasn’t. And it would never have happened if you had…

Really, Reggie! Helen put her hand on his arm and her face very close to his. It sounds as if you haven’t changed at all. Wilbur suggested you had matured, settled. But here we find you recovering from snakebite, and who knows what other foolishness you’ve engaged in.

Helen, I’m certain Reginald has outgrown his old proclivities, Wilbur said. A mere snakebite hardly compares to his past escapades of international headline import. I must admit I was apprehensive for a while, fearful of another bloody plight comparable to when he did investigative work, but I see now my anxiety was premature.

Jane and Reginald exchanged guilty glances, and Reginald cleared his throat.

An everyday situation, Dad. It’s over now, of course, and the bite’s practically healed.

I say, Reggie, that’s how it always was, wasn’t it? Helen’s petulance showed her dissatisfaction with Wilbur’s opinion and with Reginald’s explanation. And here Wilbur told me you had settled down and were running both of his publishing houses the way a good son would.

Yes, I run both companies. The London one was my father’s. It’s mine now. He was ill, he retired, and I inherited—or so I was told. He looked at his father exasperatedly. And the one here in Panama City is assuredly mine. I started it myself. By the way, Dad, you look well.

I feel well, quite fit. It has been four years now since your mother passed. That set me back considerably, but now I seem to crave both cerebral and somatic stimulation. You were wounded…ahem…at a rather opportune time for me. I find the change of scenery heartening. I may run up to New York while I’m here and renew old acquaintances—possibly occasion a few neoteric experiences of my own.

Yes, Wilbur, whatever it is you mean. And I want to go shopping there. You will come with us, won’t you Reginald? Helen smiled her invitation.

Much too busy…and my leg, you know.

Jane saw he was genuinely happy he had his injured leg for an excuse. He evidently didn’t wish to accompany them to New York—old girlfriend or not.

We will put you in a roller chair and wheel you along with us. Evidently Helen wasn’t about to accept his excuse.

You will not put me into a roller chair. He turned a desperate face toward Jane. Jane, we should go now and get my car. Dad and Helen can make themselves comfortable inside while we’re gone. My housekeeper will be here shortly and will find you each a room.

Helen and I have rather nice accommodations at a waterfront hotel. Here is their card in case you don’t know the place. We weren’t certain to what extent you roughed it over here…or…or…or if you would even still be h-here…you know.

Wilbur means you might have croaked. Helen laughed hilariously. Is that how they say it over here?

We will sample your hospitality…ahem…after our New York trip. Wilbur studied Helen, who still laughed over her earlier statement. Helen and I must trek back to our rooms now and freshen up. Perhaps we can arrange to meet later.

Helen continued laughing all the way to their car while Wilbur followed meditatively.

Let’s all have dinner this evening and discuss your plans, Reginald called after them. I know a restaurant you’ll enjoy.

Superb idea, Son. Shall we ride together?

Jane and I will meet you at your hotel about six, six-thirty. That will give you time to rest from your trip.

Reginald stood in his drive and waited impatiently for them to vanish from sight. He refused even to return Helen’s come-hither-goodbye waves.

Jane I need to return this vehicle and pick up my car. You’ll have to drive me to the rental place.

Of course. I’m sure your leg needs a rest.

He didn’t acknowledge her statement but handed her the keys and climbed into the passenger’s side. She attributed his silence during the ride to his stoical endurance of his wound’s pain, but after they had retrieved his car and headed back, she realized he stewed over something.

They’ve come at an unfortunate time, he finally said. I suppose we’ll have to go through with it.

With what?

Dinner—by the way, do you have a dinner dress?

She gave him a withering glance.

Now Jane—I meant do you have one here? We don’t have time to drive sixty miles to your place.

This white dress that I wore to lunch.

Oh…

You said you liked it.

You’ll need a dinner dress this evening. I hope you can find appropriate attire in this town.

You needn’t worry. I buy all my clothes at Sal’s. They’re very exclusive.

Where is it? Drive there now.

But here’s your house, and you should rest your leg. I’ll take my truck and meet you back here when I’ve finished shopping.

Take my car. Then you’ll make it back without a tow truck. Here, take my credit card too.

She gave him another deadly look and pulled into his drive.

It’s a business expense, confound it, Jane. He held his card out to her again but she ignored it and slammed the door of his car shut.

I’ll be back at six.

She hurried over to her truck before he could press the point. More than angry at his attitude, she simply wouldn’t use his credit card under any condition. It was a matter of principle. No, it was deeper than that, she told herself—it was a matter of honor. Reginald’s neglect in the face of Helen’s possessiveness stung her pride, and now he had topped it off with condescension.

Money for her pending book she would have accepted, since her checking account had entered bottom-scraping mode two days ago. But a borrowed credit card to buy a fancy dress for the purpose of impressing his highfalutin guests was unthinkable. There wasn’t time to collect any new reptiles, not even time to sell her display specimens that she used for school lectures. Resignedly, she took the trifling amount she could afford and headed straight to the Salvation Army’s thrift store. Fondly she had dubbed it Sal’s, and it had been her salvation more than once.

She plodded through the eveningwear rack and tried to convince herself one of the offerings would be suitable. Helen’s traveling dress came to mind and vividly portrayed Helen’s idea of a dinner dress. Hopelessly she discarded one possibility after another. Every dress in her size looked cheap or gaudy. It was a bad-choice day. Some days there were great finds—but not this time. She went the length of the rack two times and kept going when she came to the lingerie. Maybe a dress had gotten mixed in with the robes and pajamas.

At the far end she found a dress that a worker had dubbed a nightgown. It could, almost, have been one. That almost saved it. With the simplicity of a great creation, not too tight, not too short, not too low, not too see-through, slightly sensual, slightly regal, it was wholly acceptable. It implied enough modest-indecency to make a girl stand out in a crowd, and its brown and gold tones perfectly complimented her complexion and her golden-brown eyes and hair. At the nightgown-price of $3.75 she could afford to buy a pair of gold, high-heeled sandals to accompany it for the bargain price of another $4.00. Reginald would never know.

His cell phone call came as she checked out.

"I’m ready, Reginald. Should I meet you at the restaurant?

We’ve decided to all meet at my house and go in my car. Come over now and help me. This leg slows me down.

Jane agreed to come, but knew from past experience that Reginald didn’t want help. No doubt he wanted to see if her dress was up to par. The thought angered her. With no grand dress box or shoebox to prove they had come from an expensive shop, she attempted to dress before arriving. It was a feat worthy of a contortionist, but she managed to change clothes in the cramped cab of her compact truck.

At Reginald’s house she was rewarded by the approval in his eyes, but hurried past him and into a bathroom to ascertain she looked all right. The full length mirror told her she did well. She fluffed her curls, wiped a smudge off her shoes, and tightened her belt a notch narrower. Why not let Reg see that she had curves a plenty too? She smiled at her reflection and finally winked at her image before opening the door.

Helen and Wilbur were there when she emerged. Helen’s dress was all she had expected it to be—but the neckline was less than she had expected.

It’s early. Why don’t we all go for a drive? Reginald suggested. We can stop at the beach and the pier. After that we can take a short ride…

Reggie, we have water and fish back home. I want entertainment, excitement.

You’re not in New York, Helen. Reginald looked at her helplessly. Little excitement can be found here. Isn’t that correct, Jane?

Helen gave Reginald a plaintive look but ignored Jane. It seems you managed to find excitement enough.

There’s a wicked undertow at the beach sometimes, Jane said. I forget how many people have been swept out to sea…and once a large number all drowned at the same time.

By all means, to the pier, Reginald, and bring your binoculars. We’ll investigate beach bodies. Helen laughed uproariously at her newest pun. Wait until Reggie sees the bikini I picked up in Paris. I can hardly wait to be the newest beach-body in this quaint little burg.

Reginald didn’t look amused, didn’t even make an attempt to act jovial. It was Wilbur who chuckled and stole an occasional glance at Helen’s long neck where it