by Gin Jones
Besides, she'd had trouble getting out of the chair in Quattrone's office because of her hip's renewed stiffness, and the ride on RJ's shoulder hadn't done it any good. She had no chance of climbing up into the cab now.
No, her best bet was to keep RJ talking until Barry arrived. She wasn't sure how she'd get the cab driver's attention, but she'd think of something.
"None of this make any sense," Helen shouted over the engine's noise. "How could you kill anyone? You've dedicated your life to helping people."
RJ snorted. "And look where that got me. Besides, it's not like I wanted to kill anyone. Sheryl was an accident. I'd been up all night with Dad, and he'd just finally gone to sleep, and then she had to drive her bulldozer down the street and into the garden at the crack of dawn, right outside Dad's window. She woke him up, and for what? To play mind games, letting everyone know she was going to buy the land and plow everyone's garden under, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it."
RJ gave her a gentle push to indicate she should get down from their makeshift seat. She resisted, knowing that once she was on the ground, it would be impossible to continue their conversation, and he could get on with his murderous plan. Her voice was growing hoarse from speaking over the engine's noise, but she had to keep talking. "You must have been furious."
"I just wanted her to turn off the engine, and she wouldn't. Said she might as well dig up the stumps as long as she was there. Make it seem like she was only trying to be helpful."
"It might have been an accident when Sheryl died, but you won't have that excuse if anything happens to me."
"It was definitely an accident." RJ insisted. "She stopped the dozer so we could talk, and I climbed up to pull the key out of the ignition. Everything would have been fine if she hadn't tried to get it back from me. She overbalanced and fell and hit her head on the stump. She was dead before I could climb down to help her."
"You didn't have to cover it up. You could have just told the truth."
"If I hadn't been so exhausted, I probably would have," RJ said. "But I wasn't thinking straight. All I could think of was that if I was arrested, even if they didn't end up charging me, it would still take me away from Dad too much, and he needs me. He doesn't have much time left, and I couldn't risk that we'd be separated for the last months of his life. So I started up the bulldozer again and made it look like she'd simply had an equipment accident. I'd seen a few during my time in the army, so I knew how it could happen."
RJ renewed his effort to push Helen down to the ground. Even if she hadn't lost a great deal of muscle strength in the last few years, she couldn't have won a physical contest with him. His size and testosterone gave him considerably more upper body strength than she had, and she couldn't use her legs for leverage since they didn't reach the ground.
She started to scoot sideways, belatedly realizing that she still held the cultivator in her left hand, on the side away from RJ. She couldn't do anything with it while in this precarious position on the track, but it might come in useful once she had her feet on solid ground. The metal end might look odd, but the handle was solid enough even for Tate's approval.
Rather than fighting RJ's attempts to push her off the track, Helen pretended to surrender, hoping to take him by surprise later. She slid onto the ground, keeping the cultivator out of his line of sight while maintaining a tight grip on it.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "If it helps, you should know that I'm planning to turn myself in after Dad's gone. I just can't let you tell anyone before then."
Helen knew she'd run out of time. If she didn't do something now, it was going to be too late. She whirled the cultivator until she held it like a bat, the metal end close to her elbow, two hands gripping the handle, and swung it at RJ's head.
He fell off the track with a startled oath, landing on his side.
She tried to race out from behind the bulldozer, only to be caught in what felt like a nightmare where she needed to run from danger, but her legs were moving in slow motion. She wasn't completely stuck, but she was hobbling at an ambling pace, and she could hear RJ moving behind her. She hadn't been strong enough to knock him out, so it wouldn't take long for him to catch her.
Just keep going, she told herself. One step, then another. All she had to do was get out from behind the bulldozer so she could be seen from the street. She made it around to the front of the blade and began waving her arms, aware that a scream for help wouldn't be heard over the engine's noise.
There wasn't anyone in sight, so she kept moving forward. She was almost all the way past the front of the blade when she remembered the safety helmet that made her look like a Toth Construction employee. She was fumbling with the chin strap when her foot hit something, jarring her hip and causing her to stumble and fall. She managed to toss the helmet aside on her way down. She glanced back at what had tripped her. It was a small rock about the size of a baseball.
RJ shouted something, although she couldn't make out the words over the sound of the bulldozer's engine. All that mattered was that he'd recovered enough to be able to talk, which meant he was going to be chasing her down any second now.
Helen pushed herself to her knees, desperate to get as far away from RJ and the bulldozer as possible. She also needed to get some eyes looking in this direction so there'd be too many witnesses for RJ to do anything.
She couldn't yell loudly enough to be heard over the bulldozer's engine, but she knew what would make a loud enough sound to be heard. She scanned the road in front of her. There it was, parked in its usual spot next to the Averys' driveway—the little black sports car with the overly sensitive alarm system.
RJ shouted again, and this time, the words were a little clearer. He was visible behind the blade of the bulldozer now. Helen would never make it all the way to the car in the street to trip the alarm before RJ caught up to her.
If only she hadn't dropped the cultivator, she could have thrown it at the car. She'd probably have missed, though. Javelin throwing wasn't her sport. Softball was.
Wait.
She needed a ball. Or a rock that size. Like the one she'd just tripped over.
She scrabbled for it, confirming that it was indeed the size of the balls she'd once been very accurate with.
Helen whispered a promise to pay for any damage, aimed for the black sports car, and let the rock fly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Helen might not have much strength these days, but somewhat to her surprise, she found that her eye-hand coordination for pitching was still intact.
The rock hit the sports car with a solid thud, the alarm blared, and Helen could practically feel the gaze of people looking down from the windows across the street.
All that was left was to convince RJ it was over. She turned to face him but continued to back away, toward the street.
RJ was holding his head where she'd hit him hard enough to cause blood to drip between his fingers.
"It's over." Helen's voice was gone after all the shouting she'd done. Her words were barely a whisper.
RJ should have been able to figure it out on his own, but perhaps the blow to his head had him not thinking clearly because he kept advancing on Helen. She continued slowly walking backwards, praying there weren't any more rocks for her to stumble over.
He caught up to her in just a few strides and reached for her the way he'd done before when he'd put her into the fireman's carry. He bent, ducking his head toward her waist, only to come to an abrupt halt, grab his head, and drop to his knees.
At the same time, she heard her name being shouted from behind her.
RJ looked up, and there was something about his expression that suggested he finally realized he'd lost. His eyes were unfocused—she hadn't been able to knock him out completely, but she'd probably given him a concussion—and beginning to fill with tears. "I'm sorry. Truly. I just wanted to be with my Dad a little longer."
And then Tate was there, a solid barrier between her and RJ. The reli
ef of knowing she was safe robbed her of the adrenaline that had kept her going, and she collapsed to sit on the ground. A moment later, Barry arrived and gently took RJ by the arm, leading him over to the taxi. As they left, Helen caught snippets of chanted prayer and promises to make sure Richard Avery Sr. was well taken care of.
Someone must have retrieved the key from the bulldozer, because the engine stopped suddenly, its echo continuing to ring in her ears. Or maybe it was the approaching sirens. Someone must have called the police.
Tate was saying something, but she couldn't make out the words. She shook her head to clear it.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice still reduced to a whisper. "What did you say?"
"We need to talk." Tate knelt beside her and pulled her close so she could lean against him. He had lowered his voice to match hers, except his held a note of suppressed anger.
"It's not my fault," Helen said, grateful for his physical support. She would rather not collapse right now in front of the gawkers and especially not in front of the police. She didn't need to give Hank Peterson any more reasons to lecture her about getting involved in murder investigations. "I didn't do anything. I was just waiting here for a ride home."
He shook his head. "Not about that. I'm used to people trying to kill you. I meant about lunch yesterday. And why I'm not your lawyer any longer."
"I get it." She was too tired and sore for drama. It was going to take all her remaining energy just to stand up when the police arrived. "We're in a personal relationship. Casual or not, it means you can't also be my lawyer."
"That's the thing," he said. "I don't want it to be casual. I just thought you weren't ready for a committed relationship after your divorce. You kept saying you couldn't see any future for us because of your health, and you never let your lupus stop you when you want to do something, so I thought it was just an excuse to keep from making a commitment to me."
"I wouldn't lie to you. Ever. Not even little white ones. It's just one of the reasons why I want to be with you and not someone like Cory. He needs too much coddling." Helen took his hand, gesturing for him to help her to her feet. Anyone would need help after the ordeal she'd been through. "I thought you didn't want a committed relationship. You're always complaining about the way your alimony responsibilities kept you from doing what you wanted with your life. I didn't think you'd ever do anything that might cause you to go back to practicing law again."
He grinned and pulled her to her feet, casually saving her from having to admit that she needed the help. "Lucky for me, then, that you're independently wealthy."
"Don't get too cocky," she said. "Medical treatment is expensive, and I could require a lot of it over the coming years. I'm pretty sure my remission has ended, and I'm going to be spending far too much time with doctors, nurses, and phlebotomists over the next few months. What if I bankrupt myself on new drugs and experimental therapies? It could happen, and then I'd be a financial drain on you."
Tate pulled her close again, which allowed her to lean on him without making her look feeble. "For you, I'd even go back to earning a living as a lawyer."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
By the end of May, the garden was starting to look like Helen had pictured when she'd first decided to take up her new hobby. Just yesterday, she'd managed to finish filling her own plot with a variety of plants, including some catnip for Vicky, although the only nip the cat seemed interested in was the verb, not the herb. Helen had even managed to find a camellia sinensis plant, the source of tea leaves.
Unfortunately, Helen hadn't been able to work in her plot as much as she would have liked since her remission had definitely ended. Rebecca thought that almost being hit by RJ's SUV had been the trigger for the latest flare. Still, Helen had managed to spend a few minutes in the garden every day. She'd had some help with the heavier work, but she thought the other gentler activities were good for her. She was still hoping for some physical improvement before she had to go to Boston for the next round of blood work and medical consultations in a few weeks.
The heartier and more experienced gardeners were already reaping some rewards from their labor. Paul Young had harvested a few radishes and greens and shared them with her. Dale kept an eye out for Helen too, sharing gardening advice in between trying to enlist Helen into her latest crusade—creating dedicated bike lanes throughout the center of Wharton. These days, Dale's laundry line contained shirts with images of bicycles and slogans championing the environmental benefits of pedal power. That didn't keep her from enjoying her Harley, though. She'd even tried to convince Helen to ditch Jack and the Subaru in favor of a motorcycle.
No matter the status of her health, Helen wasn't planning to take up either type of biking—motorized or not—but she was starting to think about adding some new activities that would supplement the light gardening workouts. Betty and Josie were big fans of a new fitness instructor who volunteered at the nursing home occasionally and was opening his own studio soon. Helen had met Kolya Zubov and liked him. She just needed to get her doctor's permission before signing up.
Today was the first day since the encounter with RJ that Helen hadn't at least visited the garden. At first, she'd had to force herself to go, just to make sure the bad memory wouldn't taint her new hobby. She hadn't been afraid of running into RJ; he was safely tucked away in jail awaiting trial. She felt a little sorry for him and even more so for his father. The senior Avery was living at Wharton Meadows where the proximity to his beloved garden was a mixed blessing. Apparently, he liked being able to sit and watch the activity there from his window, but it was also a constant temptation for him to try to leave the facility and go over to the garden, which he wasn't allowed to do very often.
Helen hadn't let the bad memories stop her for long, and now her daily visits to the garden were a habit much like her lunches with Tate.
Today marked another first too—the first time Laura had left her new baby, Howie Jr., alone with her husband for more than an hour. Helen hadn't seen her first grandnephew yet in person, but her computer's hard drive was rapidly filling with so many pictures and videos that it was hard to believe Laura had time away from her camera to do any actual mothering. Helen would have the chance to see the baby in person in a few weeks since her recent end to the lupus symptoms' remission meant that she needed to spend some time in Boston undergoing tests and consulting with doctors to adjust her medications. In between appointments, she'd be getting to know Howie Jr.
Helen wasn't sure if Laura would have ventured out this soon if she hadn't known that there was a large box waiting for her at the cottage from Betty and Josie. It was covered in baby shower paper and filled almost to bursting with the layette items they'd made.
Helen chatted with Tate and his nephew on the cottage's back deck, sipping tea with mint from the garden and watching for her nieces to arrive. When they finally came up the gravel driveway and parked next to Adam's and Tate's cars, Adam raced over to help Lily carry the coolers filled with today's brunch supplies.
Jack was out in the driveway too, along with his niece and nephew, unloading a crate from the back of his pickup. Jay and Zee had helped Helen with some of the heavier work in the garden but had never managed to remember the gift they'd found for her in California. They'd said they were saving it for just the right moment, and apparently, that was today.
Lily and Laura arrived at the deck, preceding Adam, who was laden down with the coolers.
"I'm so sorry, Aunt Helen," Laura said. "I know I've said it before, but I can't say it enough. I really thought I could trust Howie to let you know when I went into labor."
Lily shook her head. "I can't imagine why. Howie is brilliant when it comes to his work, but at home, he's helpless. I should never have let you convince me that I'd be too busy and then too exhausted from coaching you, so we could leave the notifications to Howie."
Laura sighed. "I didn't think even he could be this bad. He managed to find the box I left for him with emergency suppl
ies like spare keys, snacks, and clean underwear. The only thing he didn't find was the instructions for who should be texted about the delivery. I even keyed them into his phone."
"Howie managed to let his own family and friends know," Lily said.
"Just not mine," Laura said with another soft sigh. "I learned my lesson, though. Next time, I'll make sure someone else sends the messages. Even the teenaged Daddy's helper who's with him today would be more reliable than Howie. But I'd better go check on them."
Laura went into the house to make the call in private, leaving Lily to glare at Adam. "If you ever do anything that boneheaded, I'm not going to be as forgiving as Laura is."
"Hey." Adam dropped the coolers and raised his hands in a defensive motion. "Don't blame me for stuff I haven't even done yet."
Lily might have said something more, except that Jack called out from the deck stairs, "Make way. Heavy item coming through."
Lily stepped out of the way, and the three Clarys maneuvered their burden into the center of the deck. The item had been removed from the crate and now was draped with a drop cloth as a makeshift version of what an art gallery would use to cover a new acquisition until its unveiling.
"You've got to understand, Ms. Bee," said Zee. "We didn't know you'd found a body in the garden when we got it. We just thought this was an amazing way to combine your old hobby of investigating deaths with your new hobby of gardening."
Her brother added, "We thought you needed something to make your garden plot as unique as you are."
"You don't need to butter me up," Helen said. "Just show me what it is."
Jay and Zee both glanced at their uncle, obviously seeking reassurance. He nodded, and Jay took one corner of the drop cloth while Zee took the other.
It was a birdbath. Heavy and expensive-looking, made out of marble instead of the usual concrete. Around the rim was a carved design that Helen couldn't quite make out from across the deck, other than to get the impression that it was extremely detailed.