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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "I've already considered the possibility. I'll talk to the medical examiner and let you know what develops."

  "Thanks, darling. I owe you one."

  Helen felt herself relaxing some. Knowing the medical examiner would look beyond the obvious reassured her. Her smile remained as she hit the disconnect button and tapped the phone against her hand. It felt good having Jason home again and back in her life.

  She wondered what it would be like to come out of retirement and go back to work as a police officer. But the longing passed. Helen had her writing career now, among other things, and loved it. She'd begun writing after Ian's death when her pastor had told her to start keeping a journal. "It'll help you heal," he'd said. It had.

  Helen took a deep breath and rose from the chair. Not only had writing helped her heal, it had launched a whole new career. Speaking of which, articles did not write themselves. Even with her arm in a sling, she should be able to type. She returned the phone to the kitchen, read Nick a bedtime story, then told Susan she'd be working for a couple of hours. After plugging in her laptop, she settled into a chair at the dining room table, waited for her word processing program to kick in, then called up the "whales" file and began typing.

  It was nearing midnight by the time Helen finished the article, proofed it, and printed it out in on Jennie’s printer. Jennie had gone out earlier that afternoon and still hadn't come home. The concern that had tugged at her intermittently throughout the evening returned, demanding attention. Some grandmother she was. Helen didn't even know where the girl had gone.

  "Still at it?" Susan nudged open the door and came up behind her.

  "Finished." Helen tucked her eight-page article and a cd into a Priority Mail envelope. Even with e-mail available, this magazine editor preferred snail mail.

  "Great. I fixed us some tea. Thought you might want a cup before bed."

  "Sounds wonderful. Is Jennie back yet?"

  "No, but she should be coming in any minute." Susan led the way to the kitchen. "I told her to be home by eleven-thirty. She's usually good about coming home on time, or at least calling. Guess I need to have a talk with her."

  Helen waited until Susan had poured the tea, then asked, "Where did she go?"

  "She was meeting a friend at the library and called about nine to say they were going to a late movie. I suppose I'm being silly to worry. Sometimes the movies don't let out until twelve."

  "Who is the friend?" Helen took a sip of tea to calm her growing apprehension.

  "Chris something." Susan frowned.

  "Chang?" Helen remembered Jennie's comment about seeing him again.

  "I don't remember." Susan brushed a hand through her thick curls and shook her head. "You must think I'm terrible, letting her meet someone I don't even know. I usually get a life history on all her friends. This time the name just went in and out." Susan paused for a breath. "I'm rambling. I never ramble. It's just that things have been so crazy around here. With Jason coming back and I'm a week behind in my postings and…"

  "And me coming to stay with you certainly isn't helping."

  Susan shook her head. "Oh, I didn't mean that."

  Helen reached for Susan's hand. "I know. Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure Jennie's fine."

  "But you're worried. I can see it in your eyes."

  "A bit, yes. Chris Chang is… was Irene's grandson."

  "You don't think Jennie's in danger. Maybe I should call Jason." When Susan rose to retrieve the phone, a car pulled into the driveway. Seconds later, Jennie sauntered in, oblivious to the fact that she'd taken a year off her grandmother's life and given her mother several new gray hairs.

  "Hi. How come you're up so late?"

  "Waiting for you." Susan raised an eyebrow and gave her daughter a formidable you-are-in-big-trouble look. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

  Jennie sighed and sank into the chair next to Helen. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed. I meant to call, but we got to talking and…you know how that is."

  "I was getting worried. Especially when I realized who you were out with." Susan eased back into her chair.

  "You were worried about Chris? What for? He's a really nice guy. You would both like him." Jennie poured some tea into an empty cup. "He told me about his grandmother dying. In fact, that's almost all we talked about. He's pretty upset about it."

  Susan's anger defused in a deep sigh. "I'm glad you could be there for him, Jennie. I really am. But next time please try to call me if you're going to be late."

  Jennie apologized and promised to be more careful. The threesome sipped a little more tea, then headed off to bed.

  When they reached Helen's door Jennie paused. "I'll be up in a minute, Mom. I need to ask Gram something."

  Susan wished them pleasant dreams and plodded upstairs.

  Jennie followed Helen into the room. "Gram? Did you know they found an antibiotic for her?"

  "For Irene? Are you sure?" Helen sank onto the bed.

  "Yeah. Chris told me he'd been working with about four other people to isolate the bacteria in Irene's wound and find the right combination of drugs to fight it. Two days ago, they found something that would work. I think he called it exo- or echo-cyllin. Something like that."

  "They found an antibiotic and the doctors were giving it to her?"

  "They should have been. Chris seemed surprised that she died. According to him, Irene should have started getting better twenty-four to forty-eight hours after getting the new drug. Only she didn't."

  Although Helen didn't especially want to encourage Jennie's participation in the case, she couldn't ignore what could be a crucial source of information. "I'd like to talk to Chris."

  "I knew you would. He wants to meet you too. Got it all set up for Sunday after church. He'll meet us at Salty's on Marine Drive."

  Helen chuckled. "If you were a little older, I'd consider hiring you as my assistant."

  "You don't have to hire me, Gram. I am your assistant."

  "Jennie…"

  "I know. Be careful. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that lately, I could buy Microsoft." She laughed. "Just kidding, Gram. I know the rules."

  Helen cautioned her again. Jennie might know the rules, but there were a lot of criminals out there who didn't play by them.

  Chapter Ten

  Getting ready for bed took far too long. Though Helen wouldn't admit it to her family, her shoulder felt as if she'd been slammed into a concrete wall.

  She completed her bedtime ritual by taking the more potent pain medication. As soon as her head hit the pillow her body began to relax. Unfortunately her mind couldn't do the same. Sorrow over Irene's death surrounded her like a shroud. It seemed strange that she would mourn so deeply the loss of someone she barely knew.

  Helen, an inner voice reminded her that she was not only mourning her death, but mourning her own losses as well.

  Funny how losing the use of one's limb, even partially or temporarily, could cause such a stir. She'd often shared her bed with grief. As before, it wrestled with her all night, dredging up memories and opening old wounds. By morning she felt more exhausted than when she'd gone to bed.

  At five-thirty, Helen gave up and trudged into the kitchen to make coffee. While the coffee dripped, she stood at the living room window and watched the sun rise over the lavender hills to the east. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself leaning back against JB's tall muscular body. He'd have rested his chin on her head and wrapped comforting arms around her. She'd tell him about her restless night and her concerns about Irene's death. She opened her eyes and spoke into the dawn's rosy hues. "What do you think we should do about it?"

  "About what?"

  Helen started and whipped around. "Susan! You scared me half to death."

  "I'm sorry. You were talking and I thought you knew I was here." Susan yawned and finger-combed her fiery curls. "Who were you talking to?"

  "Myself, God, JB Anyone who had a notion to listen, I suspect."

>   "Hmm." Susan joined her at the window. They watched for a few minutes in silence, each entranced by God's handiwork. As the sun came up, the coffee maker gave its last sputter. The morning paper hit the front porch with a thud, signaling an end to their musings. While Susan poured the coffee, Helen retrieved the paper, wandered into the kitchen, and began scanning the front section.

  "Looking for anything in particular?" Susan returned to the table with warm cranberry scones, butter, and jam.

  "I thought there'd be an article on Irene's death, but I don't see anything."

  "You'd think they'd run a follow-up story."

  "Maybe her son doesn't want the publicity." Helen turned to the obituaries.

  Susan picked up the section of paper Helen had set aside. "Are you done with this?"

  "Hmm." According to the obituary, Irene died of complications from a gunshot wound sustained in a robbery. Nothing new there, or in the list of family members left behind. Helen frowned. "She's being cremated."

  Susan glanced at the scone in her hand and grimaced.

  "I'm sorry. It’s not exactly a breakfast topic."

  "That's okay. Is there a service?"

  "Monday at ten. I'd like to go."

  Susan nodded. "Jennie or I could take you."

  By ten, Helen had the house to herself. Jennie had taken Nick and Bernie to the park, and Susan had gone shopping.

  Having already completed her exercise routine and walked a mile, Helen stretched out on the lounge chair with her laptop and began writing, thankful that the injury to her shoulder didn’t seem to be affecting her hands. The article was one she had researched during a recent trip to Jamaica and featured a lovely resort over-looking Ocho Rio Harbor. It was the honeymoon article she'd begun when she'd gotten the call from Irene.

  The trip had been her and JB's post honeymoon cruise, and writing about it washed up dozens of memories, each more precious than the next. She collected them like seashells, then wrote about the experiences she thought her readers might want to share.

  By noon, she'd finished the rough draft. During the writing, her tears had come and gone, leaving only a trace of salt on her flushed cheeks. Writing the article had given her an entirely different perspective about JB's absence. Her husband's love reached beyond the barriers of time and place and dissolve her worries. As soon as JB completed whatever mission he was on, he'd be back. And they'd celebrate his homecoming as they'd done so many times before.

  Helen saved the file and exited the program. Her arm hurt, but not nearly as much as it had the day before. She padded to the kitchen and fixed a salad. The newspaper, still lying open to the obituary column, snatched her mind from the Caribbean back to Irene.

  Or more precisely, Irene's death. That death, morbid as it was, occupied her thoughts through lunch and during her exercises. She fell asleep replaying her meeting with Irene and awoke more convinced than ever that she needed to dig deeper.

  "Oh, Lord," she murmured. "I hope I'm doing the right thing."

  The answer, though not audible, seemed to come from somewhere outside herself. Her decision brought a sudden sense of elation and excitement. Jason would be upset, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Besides, she was beginning to feel like a burden to Susan. With all the disruptions the woman had in her life, she didn't need to be looking after her mother-in law. Helen amended the thought to ex-mother-in-law.

  When Jason showed up at five with plans to take her out to dinner, Helen was ecstatic. She showered and dressed, and by six they were heading for the Olive Garden near Clackamas Town Center.

  "What do you mean, you're going to investigate?" Jason peered down at her from his six-inch height advantage as they walked toward the restaurant. "You're in no condition to do a ridiculous thing like that."

  Helen quickened her steps to keep up with her son's long strides. She'd intended to bring up the subject in the car, but Jason had monopolized the conversation with his concerns over Jennie's dating Chris. He was not a happy man.

  "My condition?” Helen raised her injured arm slightly for emphasis. "The injury gives me a perfect excuse to check myself into Edgewood. As a patient I can see for myself what goes on there."

  "Sounds as though you've made up your mind."

  "I have. As much as I'd like to forget about this whole thing, I can't. Irene's death is just too convenient. I think her accusations warrant a more complete investigation."

  "I'm not so sure about that. We aren't getting much cooperation from the brass on this. Just today we had a meeting, and they're wanting it wrapped up ASAP."

  Jason opened the door and ushered her in, putting their conversation on hold.

  Once they were seated Helen took up where they'd left off. "I'm right and you know it, Jason McGrady. Even if Dr. Kincaid did die of natural causes, why would Irene come to me for help? And what about the disk we've never found?"

  "If there was a disk. You never saw it, right?"

  "No. Irene was reaching for it when the purse snatcher came along. It was as though someone had been listening to our conversation. The timing couldn't have been more accurate. Then of course there was the burglary."

  "Ah yes, the break-in at her apartment. The report on that said Irene seemed confused. Apparently nothing was missing, although Irene claimed someone had riffled through her husband's desk. The son, Paul Kincaid, came in the next day and explained that Irene tended to be paranoid at times. I guess it's part of her dementia."

  Helen’s frustration rose. "Maybe you can write this all off as coincidence, but I can't. And this business about her having Alzheimer's."

  "I suppose you have a theory as to what's going on." Jason's dark hair and eyes, along with his slightly rumpled suit, made him look like Detective Columbo of television fame, a look that Helen would have found comical had she not been feeling on the defense.

  "My guess is that they're operating some kind of scam to rip off the elderly. Could be they're helping some of their long-term patients into an early grave to collect insurance and cut costs. Edgewood is a big operation. The money has got to come from somewhere."

  "That's possible, but I still say you should let us handle it."

  "I disagree. There may be nothing going on at Edgewood at „ all, but if there is, I have a better chance of discovering it than the police. An open investigation would warn off Kincaid and his people. I, on the other hand, wouldn't pose much of a threat to them. Besides, from what you've told me, I doubt the bureau will put a high priority on this case and I'm sure they don't have the funds to initiate the kind of investigation I have in mind."

  Jason blew out a long breath. "You're right about that."

  "Good, then it's settled."

  "Wait a minute. I didn't say I approved."

  Helen stopped. "Darling, I don't need your approval. I plan to go with or without your blessing."

  "I still don't like it. If nothing's going on you'd be wasting your time. If you're right it could be dangerous."

  "I'm not fond of the idea myself, but I've given it a lot of thought." Helen hesitated, then said, "I owe it to Irene to investigate her death and her allegations about Andrew's murder." Helen glanced at the menu, then at her son. "Jason, I have another reason for going."

  Jason's gaze met hers. "Which is?"

  "Susan really doesn't need an extra burden in her life right now/”

  "Mom, you're not a burden."

  "Let me finish." Helen closed her eyes to collect her thoughts. "You and Susan need this time to concentrate on each other. You have a lot to work out. At Edgewood I'll have a comfortable room and, from what I hear, a wonderful rehabilitation program."

  "Okay." Jason held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "When do you plan to go?"

  "I'm not sure. Since it's the weekend, I may have to wait until Monday. But that's the day of the funeral."

  "Um, Mom, we'd better table this discussion for now."

  Helen followed his gaze to an attractive woman in a navy blue silk blouse
and matching pants. She seemed to be looking their way.

  "Who's that?"

  "Our dinner guest."

  "Anyone I know?"

  "Could be." A smile tugged at the corners of her son's mouth, turning him ten years younger, far too young to be interested in the fifty something woman coming toward them.

  Helen frowned. "What's this all about?"

  "You want to know about the autopsy, right?"

  "Right."

  "I saw the preliminary report this afternoon."

  "And you brought me a copy?"

  "Better than that." Jason flashed her a wide grin. "I brought you the medical examiner."

  Chapter Eleven

  I see you made it okay." Jason slid out of the booth to let her in, then sat beside her. She looked vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn't place her.

  "Sure did. Thanks for the invitation." She glanced at Helen. "It's great to see you again. I couldn't believe it when Jason called."

  Helen wasn't sure how to respond. Apparently they'd met, but Helen had no idea who she was.

  With an odd look of amusement, Jason glanced from Helen to his guest.

  Helen's gaze drifted over the woman's matronly form, high cheekbones, and a turned-up nose and into her sea-green eyes. "You look familiar. Have we been introduced before?"

  Jason chuckled. "I can't believe you don't recognize her, Mom. Twenty-five years is a long time, but with you being friends and all…"

  "Don't let him kid you, Helen. Jason didn't have a clue as to who I was until I told him. Unlike you, I have changed."

  Twenty-five years? Friends? Helen did a quick calculation, taking her back to her police academy days. "No, it can't be. Sammi Cooper? It is you. I can't believe it." Helen had lost track of Sammi after she and her husband had moved to California. They'd vowed to keep in touch, but life had intervened.

  "I would have called you sooner if I'd known the Mrs. Helen Bradley I've been reading about in the paper was you. Jason says you recently remarried."

  "Very recent. What about you?"

  "My name's changed a couple of times since I last saw you. It's Fergeson now."