Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 2)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  The door opened and Susan McGrady entered with a bouquet of flowers. "Jason said to give you his love. He'll be back when he gets off work."

  "Thank you." Helen buried her nose in one of the half-dozen red and white carnations and inhaled the blend of sweetness and spice. "So, how are you and Jason getting along?" After Jason had been missing and presumed dead for five years, Susan had filed for divorce and become engaged to another man. Jason's surprise homecoming had forced her to reexamine her plans.

  Susan set the vase on the bedside stand and lifted her thick auburn hair off the back of her neck. "All right, I guess. The kids have been pressuring me to remarry him. He's been surprisingly patient." She glanced down, then slowly lifted her gaze to meet Helen's. "I wish I knew what to do. I still love Jason, but I'm afraid to go back."

  "He's changed, for the better," Helen said softly.

  "I know. But he's still in law enforcement. I honestly don't know if I can handle that kind of life again. Never knowing. Hoping the next phone call isn't the one telling me he's dead. It was so awful before... yet I want to do what's best for the kids." She offered Helen a wistful smile. "But then you know all about that, don't you?"

  Helen grasped Susan's hand. "I wish I could help, but it's a decision you have to make on your own."

  "True. I wish you'd tell that to Jennie and Nick. Nick especially. He's always wanting to know why Daddy can't move back to our house."

  Helen glanced at the door. "Which reminds me, where are they?"

  "The receptionist said Nick was too young to visit, so Jennie's watching him. They're probably upstairs at the nursery window by now."

  "Did someone you know have a baby?"

  Susan grinned and shook her head, taking a seat on one of the tan vinyl-covered chairs against the wall. "No. Nick's been obsessing on babies lately. He's gotten it into his head that as soon as Jason comes home we're going to give him a little brother."

  "I see." Helen resisted adding her own thoughts on the subject, since they were probably much closer to Nick's than Susan's.

  Susan's blush faded. "Helen, I…um, Jennie's anxious to talk to you. She's playing detective again. I'm worried she might try to find the person who shot at you."

  "And you want me to dissuade her."

  "If you can."

  Helen smiled. The sixteen-year-old had not been an easy daughter to raise. Not because she was rebellious or disobedient. Jennie was just pure McGrady from the indigo eyes, slender build, and dark hair to her stubborn nature and penchant for solving crimes. She'd already made a name for herself locally and worried Susan to distraction. "I'll do my best."

  "Well, I'd better go rescue her. She's anxious to see you."

  Susan had been gone no more than five minutes when Jennie arrived. She approached the bed warily.

  "Does it hurt much?" Jennie asked.

  Her eyes held an all-too-common gleam, and Helen suspected her granddaughter had already begun to investigate the shooting.

  Jennie gave her grandmother a kiss. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? You don't have an infection or fever or anything, do you?"

  "I'm going to be just fine. In fact, I should be out of here by tomorrow." Helen paused as the implications of what Jennie had said hit her. "Why would you ask if I had an infection?"

  Jennie shrugged. "I guess because Mrs. Kincaid has one, a bad one. The paper said she might not make it."

  "Really?" The information unnerved her. It seemed too soon for infection to have set in. "Would you save the article for me?" Helen asked, deciding to put her ambitious detective to work on a safe project. "And while you're at it, maybe you could clip anything you find pertaining to the purse snatching and the Kincaids."

  "Sure. Do you think we could work on the case together?" Jennie asked.

  Helen chuckled. "Do I look like I'm in any condition to go after a mugger?"

  "I could help."

  "I think it might be better if we leave this one to the police."

  Surprisingly, Jennie didn't argue. "Mom said I shouldn't stay long." Her gaze darted toward the closed door, then back at Helen. "You are going to be okay, aren't you, Gram?"

  Helen grasped Jennie's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "I'll be fine."

  By the time Jennie left, Helen could hardly keep her eyes open. Loneliness and a feeling of dread inched their way into her fading thoughts as she drifted off. JB still hadn't called.

  The nurse roused her an hour later for a dinner of creamed soup, applesauce, and custard. Evening came and went as did her visitors—Jennie and Susan. Jennie reported that Irene was doing better and that her fever was down. Susan brought her a new devotional book on St. Theresa of Avilla.

  Jason dragged in at nine, looking even more weary and glassy-eyed than he had that morning. He dropped down in the chair and stretched out his legs.

  "Would you like my bed?" Helen shifted the covers to the side. "Looks like you could use it more than I."

  He wiped a hand down his eyes and over his unshaven face. "Do I look that bad? Don't answer. We had another homicide today. That makes a dozen since I've been here."

  "I know, I watched the news during dinner. You're not having second thoughts about the job, are you?"

  "I'm not planning on going back to work for the DEA, if that's what you mean. I like the job. It's just that I'm not getting to spend much time with Susan and the kids. At the rate I'm going she'll never take me back."

  "Oh, I have a feeling she will. She needs time to adjust to your coming back and to your being alive. You have to admit you've given her plenty of reasons not to trust you."

  Jason glanced at his watch. "Yeah, and these hours I'm putting in aren't helping much. I told her I'd come by around nine but it's after that now. I hate to rush off but..."

  "It's okay. I'm not in the mood for a long visit anyway. Did you find out anything about JB?"

  He shook his head. "Put calls in to some key people. I should hear something soon." He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll let you know."

  "Thanks. Have a nice visit with Susan."

  His haggard look almost disappeared when he smiled. "Oh, I will."

  "Jason," she called him back. "We need to talk about Irene."

  "I know. You want me to follow up on her accusations. I did some checking today on the case. I've asked for a full report. Should have it by tomorrow."

  The following morning, Dr. Long signed her discharge papers on the condition that she not stay alone. Helen finally agreed to staying with Susan and the children for a few days.

  "Now, you see that she behaves herself," he said to Jason in a tone that made Helen feel like an errant child.

  "Don't worry. We'll take good care of her." Jason winked at her.

  Dr. Long turned to Helen and gave her a lopsided grin. "And no late-night trysts with armed purse snatchers. That shoulder needs time to heal. You've got a fair amount of muscle and soft tissue damage."

  "I meant to ask you earlier, I know I won't be doing any push-ups or cartwheels, but what about writing? I have several assignments with deadlines looming and…"

  "You're a writer!" He eyed the sling that supported her wounded right shoulder. "Wait, don't tell me. You write mysteries, just like Jessica Fletcher."

  "No. Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid."

  "I wondered, with the gunshot wound and all."

  Jason cleared his throat. "Don't give her any ideas." Then in a tone that made him sound almost proud he added, "Actually, my mother is a travel writer. She gets paid to visit these great vacation spots and write about them."

  "Sounds like fun."

  "It is, most of the time." Helen eased back into the conversation. "But what I need to know is, when will I be able to write? At the moment it hurts to move anything."

  "I'll get you started on an exercise program in a couple days. You may even want to consider checking yourself into a rehab center for a month or so. In the meantime, you can try writing for short periods. Just make sure your arm is sup
ported and don't overdo it. In another six weeks that arm and shoulder should be good as new."

  Helen winced at the six weeks. She wasn't used to being restricted, and the thought depressed her. Of course, six weeks wasn't really that long. It would be a good time to catch up on some reading and enjoy her grandchildren. And maybe she'd quietly look into Andrew Kincaid's death.

  As she settled into the wheelchair for the ride to the car, Helen set her anxieties aside and vowed to make the best of things.

  "Gram is here! She's here. She's here." Nick bounced across the wide porch and down the stairs. Bernie, his St. Bernard pup, followed.

  Helen's heart flip-flopped as she watched him race toward the car. "Oh, Jason, Nick looks more like you every day."

  "Mm. I know. He's a great kid. I just wish I'd been able to come back sooner." Jason set the emergency brake and unfastened his seat belt.

  "Well, you're here now. That's what matters."

  Jennie's welcome was a bit more controlled than her younger brother's, but her eyes glowed with enthusiasm as she opened the passenger door.

  Nick darted in front of Jennie with his arms stretched out to receive a hug. Jennie grabbed him before he could plow into Helen. "Be careful, big guy. Gram's got a major owie on her arm."

  "I know. Daddy said we have to be real careful 'cause when people are old they get flag…fagile." He sighed. "You know. They break easy."

  "I didn't mean that like it sounded," Jason said, offering her a hand out of the car.

  "Humph." Helen swung around in the seat. "I am neither old nor fragile. Come on, sweetheart." She motioned to Nick with her left hand. "Give your gram a big hug."

  Bernie stuck his nose between them, begging for a little of the attention she'd been lavishing on Nick. Helen complied.

  Once settled in the spare bedroom of the large Victorian home, Helen's first official task was to take a nap, which she did. She was awakened sometime later by the phone ringing.

  Seconds later Jennie tapped on the door and stuck her head into the bedroom. "Just checking to see if you're awake." She held up a cordless phone. "It's for you. Irene Kincaid. Do you want to talk to her?"

  "Sure." Helen grabbed the phone and cradled it between her chin and left shoulder. "Hello?"

  "Helen." Irene's frantic voice lowered to a whisper. "Helen, please, you must help me. They are trying to poison me."

  Chapter Five

  Helen pressed the phone against her ear and tried to sit up. "Irene?" When she didn't answer, Helen asked, "Are you still there?"

  "Yes …yes." She paused. "Please, help me."

  "Where are you?"

  Irene didn't answer. The rasping breaths ceased, followed by a click and a dial tone.

  "What's wrong?" Jennie placed a sturdy arm behind Helen for support.

  "Irene may be in trouble. She just told me someone was trying to poison her." Helen sucked in a deep breath to ward off the dizziness. "Get me the number for the hospital. I need to call."

  "I'll get it, but you'd better let me do the calling. You look like you're ready to faint."

  Helen eased back against the pillow. "I'm…I'm all right," she panted. "Just make the call."

  "Be back in a couple of minutes."

  The encounter with pain and an overdose of adrenalin sent Helen's heart skittering. Her skin felt cool and clammy. She concentrated on slowing down her breathing and relaxing her tense muscles.

  Five minutes later Jennie came in carrying a fresh ice pack and a glass of water. "I talked to Irene's nurse and everything is okay, well, not totally. The nurse said she's been delusional. She's even been accusing the nurses of poisoning her when they try to give her medication."

  "She sounded so desperate."

  "Who are you talking about?" Susan came in and handed Helen two pain pills. "I thought you might want these. You're overdue."

  "Thanks."

  Jennie told her mother about Irene while Helen reached for her water. She thought about refusing the pills. She needed a clear head. But then how could she think at all when her shoulder protested so loudly? Propping herself up, Helen took the pills, then sank back into the pillows and placed the ice pack over her shoulder. How long would she have to put up with the pain and inconvenience? The brief flurry of activity had left her exhausted and frustrated. She hated being laid up. Helen McGrady, she caught herself before the pity party could begin in earnest, how could you even think of feeling sorry for yourself? At least you're out of the hospital and improving, while Irene… Only God knew what was happening to Irene.

  Jennie pulled an armchair closer to the bed and dropped into it.

  Susan picked up the empty water glass and headed for the door. "I'm so sorry about your friend."

  "I wish I could see her for myself, but…"

  Jennie's gaze met hers. "Why don't I go? Mom won't mind. I could easily be back before dark."

  "I don't know, Jennie. I'd rather not have you involved in case there is a problem."

  Jennie rolled her eyes.

  "Why don't I call Jason?" Susan continued. "He's coming for dinner, so we could ask him to stop on his way."

  "That makes sense," Helen agreed. "He'll be able to get more information than either of you. Ask him to talk to the nurse. Have him find out as much as he can. Something doesn't mesh. If Irene is that delusional, how did she manage to find me at your number?"

  After her nap, Helen managed a short walk, exercised her arm, and was beginning to feel somewhat human again. The wonderful smells coming from the kitchen drew her there.

  "Can I get you anything?" Susan lifted the lid from the electric fry pan and turned the chicken.

  "A cup of tea would be nice, but I can get that myself."

  "Don't be silly. I've already got water on the stove." Susan poured two cups of hot water and set a canister of various teas on the table.

  "Where is everyone?" Helen glanced around. "It's so quiet."

  "Jennie took Nick to the library. Said something about looking up information on Dr. Kincaid." Glancing at the clock, Susan added, "They should be here any minute."

  "I hope you don't mind my asking Jennie to do some research for me."

  "Not at all. Wonderful idea, actually. It’ll keeps her busy and out of trouble." Susan dunked her orange spice teabag and set it on the saucer. "Helen, I… I've been meaning to ask you something."

  "Yes?"

  "I know you'd like Jason and me to remarry, but…” Susan stared at the rosy brew in her cup, then closed her eyes. "This is so hard for me. I feel like a traitor for even having questions. But the truth is, I don't know if I want to go back. I'm not like you, Helen. You're always so understanding and calm. I mean, here JB is gone on some assignment somewhere and you're not the least bit worried."

  "Susan…"

  "No, don't say it. I'm sure it would be best for the children, and maybe I'm being selfish, but I hate the thought of losing him again. Every time I look at him and see the scar on his cheek, I'm reminded of the danger he faces."

  "I do understand. More than you know. It tears me up inside not knowing where JB is, not having him here with me."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you didn't care." Susan drew both hands through her thick natural curls, then settled them on the table. "You just seem to be so much better suited to that kind of life."

  "The secret, for me at least, is not dwelling on what could go wrong, but to focus on what is good and right."

  Susan nodded. "Easier said than done. I guess the question I'm asking is whether love is really enough."

  Funny, Helen had been asking herself that same question. She squeezed Susan's hand. "I don't know, darling. I really don't know. What I do know is that you don't have to decide right now. Pray about it. Ask God to help you make the right choice. That may seem simplistic, but sometimes we just need to back off and let life happen. You're trying entirely too hard."

  "Okay, so you're saying I should just relax and not worry about making a decision right now?"


  "That about sums it up."

  "How will I know when I'm ready?"

  "You will."

  About halfway through tea, Bernie's deep bark announced Jennie and Nick's arrival. Jason showed up a few minutes later. Between Nick's excitement over his new books and getting dinner on the table, they were well into their chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy dinner before the subject of Irene Kincaid came up.

  "Did you stop at the hospital, Dad?" Jennie forked an asparagus spear and nibbled at the tender head.

  "No, I'm sorry." Jason's dark brows nearly touched when he frowned. "I'll have to go after dinner. Just couldn't work it in this afternoon. I did call though, and the nurses assured me that Irene was doing a little better."

  Helen nodded. "I'm relieved to hear that at least."

  "I also did some more checking into the case, but I'll fill you in on that later." He gave her a for-your-ears-only look.

  "That Kincaid family is something else," Jennie said. "Dr. Kincaid developed all this anti-aging stuff. And they are extremely wealthy. We're talking billions."

  "I knew about his work in gerontology." Helen set down the drumstick she'd been nibbling and wiped her hand on her napkin. "His son mentioned that Irene had been using some anti-aging products."

  "What's ger-a-tology?" Nick asked.

  "Well, ology is the study of something," Jennie explained. "And gerontology is the study of—"

  "Gerbils?" Nick tipped his head to the side.

  "Close, Nick," Jennie chuckled. "It's the study of aging."

  "What's aging?"

  Jennie sighed. "When people get older."

  "I'm getting older. I'll be six next May fifteenth. On my last birthday I axed for my daddy to come back and he did. Next time I'm axing for a new baby brother."

  Jason's hopeful gaze swept to Susan, who ignored it and tried to change the subject.

  "Nick, are you ready for another piece of chicken? Or how about some dessert—I made your favorite—chocolate cake."

  Jennie cleared her throat. "Anyway, I brought you lots of articles about the Kincaids and the stuff they were working on."