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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Helen thanked her and promised to look it over later.

  After dinner, Jason left for the hospital. Helen joined Susan and the children in the family room. While they watched television, she browsed through some of the articles and notes Jennie had gathered.

  The articles verified that the well-known doctor had indeed died of a heart attack. Helen felt remiss at not having heard about Andrew's death, but it had happened while she'd been in Paris with JB, where he'd proposed and they had eloped. Remembering back to those glorious few days, the news could have been broadcast from every satellite dish in the galaxy and she'd have missed it.

  Another interesting piece of news was that Edgewood had been Dr. Kincaid's dream child, a utopia of sorts for the older generation. It consisted of an elite multilevel facility, offering senior citizens every imaginable alternative. Clients could buy or rent state-of-the-art condominiums set high on a hill overlooking the Columbia River Gorge. The facility featured golf, fishing, hiking trails, a restaurant, swimming pools, and fitness centers. Expensive, but the package included an insurance policy that provided lifetime care for those who needed it.

  Edgewood also offered assisted living apartments along with a complete care facility, rehabilitation center, and nursing home.

  All of this, Helen realized, fell to Andrew Kincaid's heirs. Irene, Paul, and a daughter, Mai Lin Chang, had inherited Kincaid Enterprises, which consisted of Edgewood Estates and Kincaid Laboratories, a multimillion-dollar organization. Reading through various articles, Helen gleaned bits and pieces of information that helped her get to know the Kincaid family a little better. Dr. Mai Lin Chang, for instance, was married to David Chang, also a doctor. They had an eighteen-year-old son. And Paul Kincaid, though never married, was engaged to Adriane Donahue, another gerontologist. All of the doctors seemed highly esteemed among researchers, or so the articles said.

  When her body could no longer tolerate being up, Helen excused herself and went to her bedroom for a brief rest. She'd just climbed into bed when the phone rang. A few seconds later Jennie brought in the phone. "Dad wants to talk to you."

  "Jason, I was about to give up on you. Is everything all right?"

  "I'm afraid I haven't made it to the hospital yet. Got a call on the way. It looks like we may have found the purse snatcher."

  "Oh, that is good news. So you've made an arrest?"

  "No." Jason cleared his throat. "He's down at the morgue. A fisherman found his body washed up over at Kelly Point, where the Willamette flows into the Columbia. Mrs. Kincaid's purse was still hooked around his neck. Looks like he made his getaway on a Jet-Ski. We found one beached about a quarter of a mile upstream. Guy's name is Charlie Dupay. He's got a couple of priors, petty theft and possession. Crack user, which might explain the violent behavior."

  "What about the contents of the purse? Irene had mentioned something about a disk."

  "Nothing like that in it. Just the usual, wallet—a couple hundred in cash, some credit cards, makeup, that sort of thing."

  "How did he die?" Helen glanced at Jennie, whose expression oozed curiosity.

  "Aside from the drowning, he had a nasty dent in his skull. The medical examiner thinks he may have lost control of the Jet-Ski. No way of knowing for sure. I'll let you know if we find anything else."

  After thanking him and saying good-bye, Helen handed the phone back to Jennie.

  "It was about the gunman, right?" she asked.

  "Yes. Looks like they found him." Helen reiterated part of the conversation, then added, "I guess that's the end of it."

  "But what about Mrs. Kincaid's husband? She thinks he was murdered. And where's the disk she was going to give you?"

  Helen shook her head. "There may not have been a murder or a disk."

  "Do you think Mrs. Kincaid lied?" Jennie dropped sideways into the arm chair and dangled her long legs over the arm.

  "No. Not lied. I think she believed everything she said. It's just that her story may not be based on reality."

  "So it's over?"

  "Looks that way." Helen winced as she adjusted her pillow.

  "Can I get you anything?" Jennie swung her legs around to the front of the chair and sprang forward.

  "The usual. Pain pills and an ice pack."

  Jennie hurried away and Helen's heart ballooned with pride. She almost wished she could involve Jennie in her investigation. Investigation? Now why had that word surfaced? Hadn't she just told Jennie it was all over? They had found the mugger and retrieved Irene's purse intact. No disk, but Paul Kincaid had said his mother was suffering from Alzheimer's. Still, Helen couldn't quite put the incident to rest.

  She took her medication and slept for two hours. When she awoke it was dark. Susan had come in to check on her.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

  "You didn't. Did Jason come back?"

  "Yes. He's anxious to talk with you but didn't want to wake you. I'll get him."

  "How is Irene?" Helen asked the moment Jason entered the room.

  "It's a long story." In two strides he reached the mauve armchair and sank into it. "I guess I should start with how she knew where to call you."

  "Sounds like a good plan." Helen scooted back to a sitting position and set an extra pillow behind her back.

  "Irene has had times, usually in the morning or late at night, when she is quite lucid." Jason stretched out his long legs and hooked his hands behind his head. "The nurse I spoke with said she'd given Irene the number. Irene wanted to thank you personally."

  "But instead she tells me she's being poisoned?"

  Jason leaned forward and rested his elbows on his denim-clad knees. "Yes, although everything can be explained. Irene made all sorts of accusations against the hospital staff. That mostly happened while she was running a high fever. They thought the fever might have caused the delirium, at least part of the time. Of course, since she has Alzheimer's…"

  "Yes, so I heard. I understand that the only way to tell if someone definitely has Alzheimer's is with an autopsy. The diagnosis is a guess based on a person's symptoms."

  Jason leaned back again, loosening his tie. "Her son specializes in geriatrics. He should know."

  Helen nodded, meeting her son's concerned gaze. "Did you think to ask about visitors, like who and how many?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did." He shrugged. "She had a lot of them, mostly family. Dr. Chang, Irene's daughter, stayed there the first couple of nights."

  "I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me."

  Jason hesitated, then asked, "How's the shoulder? Do you need something for pain, an ice bag?"

  "No, I'm fine. Jennie brought me some just after you left. Quit trying to change the subject."

  "I'm sorry. It's just that I know when I tell you what happened you'll want to investigate on your own."

  "Jason, look at me. I can hardly get up to go to the bathroom.

  Now tell me. Did you see her? How is she?"

  "She was gone. The family signed her out and took her to Edgewood Manor."

  "The nursing home? But she was in critical care."

  "It didn't make sense to the nurses either. They said her condition had deteriorated. Late this afternoon she went into cardiac arrest. They were able to resuscitate her, but she's still in danger. About an hour later Paul Kincaid showed up with an ambulance and checked her out."

  "Why on earth would he do that?"

  "He's threatening to file a lawsuit against the hospital for negligence. Kincaid thinks Irene was contaminated in surgery, and he's taking her to his facility, where he claims she'll receive better care. He thinks Kincaid Laboratories will be able to find an antibiotic to fight her infection more effectively than anything they have at the hospital."

  Helen stared at her hands and loosened her grip on the bedspread. "You're right about my wanting to investigate. I can understand Paul's frustration, but to have her transferred out when she's critically ill. That's negligence."

 
"To be honest, I might have done the same thing if I had the resources he does. And I'd be furious with the hospital for letting an infection get out of hand."

  "I suppose we'll have to see what comes of it. There isn't much we can do tonight. Maybe I'll call out there tomorrow and see how she is."

  Jason nodded. "There is one more thing I should probably tell you, although it's entirely possible the nurses are saying it to protect themselves."

  "What’s that?"

  "One of the nurses I talked to on the unit seemed especially worried about Irene being discharged, not so much about the quality of care at Edgewood, but the lack of it."

  "What do you mean? From what I've read, Edgewood has one of the best geriatric and rehabilitation facilities around."

  "It does. But the nurse said with Dr. Kincaid being such a strong advocate for assisted suicide, she's afraid he may have taken Irene to Edgewood to die."

  Chapter Six

  “Edgewood Manor, how may I direct your call?" The crisp pleasant voice was almost as bright as the early morning sun. Except for a dull ache in her right shoulder, Helen felt almost like her old self. She'd already made coffee, read from her new devotional book, and single-handedly typed two pages of an article on whale watching along the Oregon coast.

  "Good morning." Helen smiled despite her concern for Irene. "You have a patient there, Irene Kincaid. I'd like to find out how she's doing."

  "Mrs. Kincaid? Of course. She's in the north wing. I'll connect you with the nurses' station."

  Helen sipped at her coffee while she waited. After a few moments a woman identifying herself as Stephanie answered. Helen asked again about Irene.

  "You said you were a friend?" This time the response was cool and abrupt.

  "Yes."

  "I'm sorry, but Dr. Kincaid has asked that we not release information to anyone other than family."

  "I'm Helen Bradley, the woman who was with her Sunday night when she was injured. I've been concerned about her." Helen watched her daughter-in-law shuffle into the kitchen. Susan's bright floral print robe reminded her of a field of tulips and made the morning even brighter.

  "I wish I could help you, Mrs. Bradley, but…"

  "All I want is a brief update on her condition. Is she the same, doing better?"

  Stephanie sighed. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you that much. She's stable. It's too soon to tell, but I'd say she's looking better."

  "Is she still delusional?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Irene called me yesterday from the hospital. She insisted someone was trying to poison her. The nurses there said she'd been confused. They thought it may have been caused by the high fever."

  "Oh, I…um... no, I've seen no signs of confusion. Mrs. Bradley, I don't mean to be rude, but I have patients waiting."

  "Certainly. Thanks so much for your time. Oh, one more thing. When are visiting hours?"

  "Our doors are always open to friends and family. We just ask that you check in at the desk first."

  Helen thanked her again and hung up.

  "How is she?" Susan set a steaming mug of coffee on the table and went back to the counter to retrieve the stack of toast she'd been preparing.

  "Apparently better." Helen frowned.

  "You don't sound convinced." Susan brought over the coffeepot and topped off Helen's cup.

  "I'm puzzled. Stephanie, the nurse I just spoke with, sounded surprised when I asked about Irene being delusional. Of course, she may not have had time to read the chart. Still, you'd think…”

  Susan warmed her hands on a large pottery mug before taking a tentative sip. "Sounds like you were having a hard time extracting information from her. Maybe she knows and didn't want to say."

  "Maybe." Helen let her gaze drift from Susan's peaceful countenance to the light streaming into the kitchen from the dining room windows. "Why don't we sit out on the porch? It's a gorgeous morning."

  Susan raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Sure. You're looking pretty chipper. I take it your shoulder's better."

  "Much. I've decided to stop the codeine, except maybe at bedtime, and switch to the less potent pain medication the doctor recommended." Helen picked up her cup and carried it outside. Susan followed with the toast, butter, and jam after pausing to retrieve a wooden tray from the pantry.

  When they'd settled on the white wicker chairs, Susan spread strawberry jam on the hazelnut toast and handed one to Helen. "I know it isn't any of my business, but don't you think it's a bit too soon for you to visit Irene?"

  Helen chuckled. "Am I that transparent?"

  "Not really. It's just that Jason asked me to keep an eye on you."

  "So Jason told you about Irene being moved to Edgewood?"

  "Hmm. And he's quite concerned. So am I, for that matter. Even though the bill passed to make it legal, assisted suicide hasn't been accepted as law. Jason's worried he may have to contend with another suicide doctor."

  Susan slipped into a rhetoric about the latest case of the famous suicide doctor back east. Being pro-life, most of the family had given a great deal of money and time to keeping the assisted suicide bill from passing in Oregon.

  Helen held strong views herself, yet struggled with the issues, especially since her friend Mary had opted to end her life before cancer completely destroyed it. Mary had given up. She'd refused all treatment except pain medication. After two days with no food or water and a self-administered overdose of morphine, she'd passed on. Had God understood Mary's anguish and granted her grace?

  "Helen? Are you all right?"

  "What? Oh, I'm sorry." Helen shook her head. "Just wool gathering. I was thinking about Mary, you remember my friend in Lincoln City."

  "She committed suicide, didn't she?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "You're not thinking it's okay, are you? I know she was your friend, but surely you can't be siding with the proponents of euthanasia?"

  "No, of course not." Helen paused and took a drink of her now lukewarm coffee. "My head says Mary made the wrong choice. My heart isn't quite so sure."

  "Personally, I feel suicide is a cop-out, the ultimate act of selfishness."

  "But people kill themselves every day. How is Mary's choice any worse than that of the alcoholic or drug addict or even a smoker who poisons himself a little at a time? They know their choices are going to kill them someday, but they do it anyway. It's not a black or white issue."

  "That's true, I suppose." Susan tipped her head to one side, her hair turning to fire in the morning sun. "I thought you hated shades of gray."

  Helen, weary of the turn the conversation had taken, smiled and ran her fingers through her graying hair. "Some gray you learn to live with."

  "You could color it."

  "I could, but it would still be gray underneath."

  Susan chuckled. "You are definitely getting better."

  "Let's hope."

  "As much as I'd like to stay here and visit with you all day, I have to get to work." After Jason's disappearance, Susan had started up an accounting business out of her home, allowing her to bring in needed income and still stay home with her children.

  Helen rose and followed Susan back inside.

  "You haven't mentioned JB since you got home," Susan said, refilling her cup. "Is there a problem between you two? I'm surprised he hasn't called."

  "Problem?" Oh yes, there was definitely a problem, but nothing she could discuss with Susan. Although the family knew about his job with the FBI, they were unaware of his occasional missions for the State Department. Nor did they know about her own undercover work. "I'm sure everything is fine. He may have been trying to call the apartment. Unfortunately, I don't have the code, so I can't retrieve my messages by remote."

  "He didn't give it to you?"

  "Well, yes, and I wrote it down, but it's at the apartment."

  "Do you want Jennie to run over and check the answering machine?"

  Helen decided she'd rather go hersel
f. The messages, if there were any, might be for her ears only. "Better yet, I'll have her take me by the apartment after I see Dr. Long this afternoon."

  At one-fifteen that afternoon, Helen ducked into Jennie's car, a red Mustang, and fastened the seat belt, adjusting the shoulder strap so it wouldn't press against her wound. "I sure appreciate your driving me around."

  "No problem. I love hanging out with you." Jennie paused before she backed down the driveway. "Gram? Are you really giving up on the Kincaid case?"

  Jennie's question took her by surprise. "Well, I... I suppose. The suspect is dead."

  "But… oh, I don't know. I just keep thinking about what Mrs. Kincaid told you, about her husband being murdered. Don't you think we should look into it some more? I know you can't do anything right now, but I could."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "I could go out to Edgewood and snoop around."

  "Why do I get the feeling we're talking past tense here? What have you been up to?"

  "Nothing terrible. I just went out to Edgewood this morning and talked to some people. Told them I might be interested in working out there until school starts. Don't look at me like that! I might be."

  "Sure, then what happened?"

  "The guard said I should go to the personnel office. Well, I parked right next to this guy. You'll never guess who." Jennie tossed her grandmother a sly grin and answered her own question. "Turns out his name is Chris Chang. He recognized me from those stories in the paper and the television coverage after Nick's kidnaping. Remember when we had that press conference?"

  "Clearly. I also remember how you almost got yourself killed going after the kidnapper."

  "Yeah, well, anyway. Chris wanted to know what I was doing out at Edgewood"

  "How convenient that you should run into Irene's grandson." Helen vacillated between pride and fear where Jennie was concerned. The girl had assisted the police in solving several crimes in recent months and two of the stories had made the national news. You have only yourself to blame, Helen reminded herself. Jennie wanted to follow her father and grandparents into law enforcement. Apparently, there'd be no stopping her.