"So did he?" Helen stopped at the highway junction and waited for several cars to pass before making a left.
"Yeah. You got that right. Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not mad about him messing around in high school or having another kid."
"Then what?"
"This so-called son killed my dad, and I let it happen."
Helen glanced over at him, wishing they were talking face- to-face rather than in a shadowy car. "I don't understand."
"I should have come home like he asked. Instead I told him to take a hike."
"And you think you're responsible for his death because you didn't meet him?"
"Aren't I? If I'd been here, I might have gone with my father to see the guy. That's what Dad wanted. For me to meet Alex first. Then he was going to tell Nancy and Mom."
Helen braked at the 35-mph sign as they headed into the main part of town. "Does Nancy know?"
"I called her right after I talked to Dad."
"And what was her reaction?"
"She was too drunk to care. Too many problems of her own, I guess. We talked about telling Mom but decided Dad should do that himself."
Helen pulled into the drive in front of the hotel lobby and turned to look at Brian. "Did either you or Nancy talk to your mother about Rosie and Alex?"
"I didn't, and I don't think Nancy did either. Dad being killed was hard enough on her. I didn't think she'd be able to handle anything else. Guess I was wrong."
"Your mother is a strong woman."
"Apparently." He started to get out of the car.
"Brian, wait. I need to ask you something."
"Sure."
Helen told him about the drive-by shooting. He seemed surprised. "Whoa. You think it's related to my dad's death?"
"I'm sure it is. When you left the restaurant, did you happen to see anyone suspicious or notice a white pickup?"
He wagged his head back and forth. "If it is related, then Alex might not have killed Dad after all." The idea seemed to please him. "I mean he's still in jail, right?"
"As far as I know."
He nodded. "So if Alex didn't kill my old man, who did?"
You? Though Helen hadn't said the word aloud, Brian must have picked up on her thoughts.
"Hey, wait a minute." He leaned back and raised his hands. "You don't think I had anything to do with it? Man, like I told the cops, I wasn't even here."
"Do you have proof of that?"
"No. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head almost touching the dashboard.
"When did you leave Portland?"
"Monday. Early."
"Did you stop to get gas or eat on the way?"
He raised his head and frowned. "Yeah, both. Why?"
"Did you use a credit card?"
He tilted his head back against the seat and hit his hand on the dash.
"Your receipt has Sunday's date on it, doesn't it? Along with the time. The police are going to be able to tell exactly where you were when you used your card and estimate your time of arrival."
"I'm a dead man." He moaned but made no move to run.
"Not necessarily. Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"When Joe started asking me questions about where I was when Dad died, I got scared. Figured it was easier to say I hadn't come down until Monday."
"Did you see your father Sunday night?"
"No. Well, I saw his Jag parked about a block from Rosie's. Figured he had to be seeing her, as all the businesses in town were closed. He was there, all right. I caught them making out in the upstairs window before they got wise and pulled the curtains."
"Are you sure that's what you saw?"
He gave her an incredulous look and didn't bother to answer. "I got mad all over again. I mean it was one thing to get a girl pregnant in high school, but to cheat on my mom . . ." He hesitated. "I felt like going up there and killing both of them. But I didn't," he added quickly. "I just drove down by the seawall and parked till I could figure out what to do."
"How long were you there?"
He rubbed his forehead. "About an hour and a half. I walked around for a while. It took that long for me to cool down and work things out. I wasn't about to let him get away with that kind of stuff. I knew what it would do to Mom. After a while, I decided to go back to Rosie's and tell them exactly what I thought. When I got there, his car was gone and the lights were out. I remembered he was going to the restaurant, so I went there."
"What time was that?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Around eight-thirty, I guess."
"Ethan had asked you to meet him at seven, right? He must have left Rosie's right after you saw him."
"I guess."
"You went to the restaurant to look for him. “Helen wasn't sure what to make of the now-docile Brian Crane. Though he wasn't acting much like a cold, calculating killer, she still had her doubts.
"I went by but didn't go inside. I didn't see his car out front, so I left. Figured I'd talk to him later. Only he never came home." He cradled his head in his hands. "I should have been there to help him."
Helen looked over his muscular torso, trying to get a take on him. Brian had motive and opportunity. He'd admitted to being angry enough to kill his father. He'd lied before and could be lying again. Brian also admitted to being at the restaurant. Could he have waited for his father in the parking lot? Perhaps Ethan had suggested they walk on the beach. Helen imagined him confronting Ethan. Ethan walking away. Brian could become angry. She'd experienced that fury firsthand. It wasn't hard to picture him grabbing a piece of driftwood and hitting his father over the head.
No, that didn't work. Unless George was wrong about the knife wound. According to him, the killer stabbed Ethan first, then hit him in the back of the head. The letter opener had apparently fallen out of the body and was reinserted later, purposely framing Rosie. Could Brian have done that?
He was angry enough to kill them both.
"Do you know how your father died?"
"Joe told us he was stabbed. Later we found out about the weapon being Rosie's letter opener. Seemed weird to me."
"Weird? In what way?"
"Well, if you were going to use a letter opener to waste somebody, you'd have to know exactly where to stick it. Otherwise it wouldn't do all that much damage. Must have been a long one."
"Have you ever been in Rosie's store, Brian?"
"Sure, a few times, for coffee. I don't read much so . . ."
"What about mysteries? Did you ever go upstairs to her mystery room?"
He shook his head and frowned. "No. Why are you asking?"
"Just wondering if you'd ever seen it."
"Not that I recall."
"She kept the letter opener up there."
"So?"
"It's not your average letter opener. It had a blade about an inch across and about eight inches long."
"Whatever. Look, Mrs. Bradley, it's been nice, but I gotta go."
"I have one more question for you, if you don't mind."
"Why not? It's not like I have a hot date. I'd just like to get checked in. I haven't gotten much sleep the last few nights."
"I was wondering why you left the restaurant in such a hurry tonight."
"Why?" He turned to look out the window. "Because my mother was driving me nuts with all that funeral talk. I couldn't stand it anymore."
"I asked you this earlier, but I'd really like you to think about it again. When you left the restaurant, did you happen to see a white pickup with a Feldman's Construction logo?"
"You mean the guy who shot at you?"
"I'm thinking whoever was driving it must have been watching us when we left the restaurant, then followed us."
"I can't help you there. I walked from the restaurant straight to Annie's place."
"Annie's?" After what Annie had told her about Brian's advances, Helen's stomach knotted with concern.
"I had to apologize to her. Got a little carried away the other night."
&nb
sp; "Yes, she told me." Helen made a mental note to call Annie. Had his visit been partly to blame for his anger?
"Well, we worked it out."
Helen hoped so.
"Urn, speaking of Annie," Helen ventured, "she said you'd burned something in the fireplace that night. Care to tell me what it was?"
"Humph. Guy can't get away with anything."
"I noticed a page missing on his calendar."
"Dad had written my name down for dinner with him and Alex Sunday night. I didn't want the police to see it."
"Annie indicated there was more."
"Some notes. Dad had written out a preliminary will naming Alex as a beneficiary. I was upset so I tossed it."
Helen nodded. "I won't keep you. If I were you, though, I'd go to the sheriff’s office and tell them the truth about Sunday night."
He told her he would, then shut the car door and jogged into the hotel.
Helen headed for Annie's place and pulled up at the curb. Joe's car was parked out front. Was it a social visit, or had Annie borne the brunt of Brian's anger? Maybe Helen was being foolish, but she couldn't help worrying. Annie's comment about Brian's behavior gave reason enough for concern.
Going up the walk, Helen had second thoughts. Joe was with her. Annie would be safe. The lights were on, but she had no idea how far Joe and Annie's relationship had progressed.
She didn't relish the idea of interrupting whatever they might be doing.
The drapes parted. Annie's welcoming wave saved Helen from making the decision. The door opened, and Annie, seeming almost relieved, pulled her inside. "Come in. I'm surprised to see you. Joe was just telling me about the drive-by shooting. We thought you'd be at the hospital with George."
"I am heading that direction. I've been at Eleanor's, and I just had an interesting conversation with Brian. He said he'd been here and . . ."
She smiled. "You wanted to make sure I was okay. That was sweet of you, but I can hold my own with these guys. Brian came to apologize again for making a pass at me."
Joe, looking none too happy, joined them at the door. "Um . . . look, Annie, I'd just as soon not hear this again." To Helen he said, "I was just leaving." And he did.
Looking at the closed door, Helen asked, "What was all that about?"
Annie ran a hand through her springy blond curls. "Joe asked me to marry him yesterday. I said no."
"That certainly explains his foul mood. I thought you and Joe were getting serious."
"We were—are. It's just that I'm not ready for marriage. My business is in jeopardy, and, well, to be honest, I think the proposal is Joe's way of bailing me out."
"I'm sure it's more than that. He loves you."
"I know, but I don't think he's ready for marriage yet either. He came by tonight to try to convince me it was for the best." She shook her head. "He just doesn't understand. I need to concentrate on building up my business now. Besides, I'm not sure how I feel about him. Brian asked me to go out to dinner."
"Whoa." Helen moved over to the recliner and sat down. "Yesterday you told me Brian came close to raping you, and now you're thinking of dating him?"
"That was Joe's reaction." Annie winced. "I overreacted. Brian apologized for coming on so strong. He assured me he would never hurt me. He was very sweet and well, he's going through a hard time right now. I dated him for a while in high school, and I'm just not sure how I feel about him. I told him I was dating Joe, only now I'm not sure."
"Oh, Annie." Helen leaned back into the cushions. "I can't tell you what to do here, but. . ."
"But you're going to anyway."
"Not if you don't want me to."
Annie plopped onto the sofa and clasped her hands. "Go ahead. I could use some motherly advice."
"It's not advice. Just an observation." Helen picked a piece of fuzz off the arm of the chair. How could she say it? Since Brian had an alibi for when she and George were being fired at, Helen could probably cross him off her suspect list. "Brian seems likeable in some ways. I admit I don't really know him, but from what I've seen, he seems volatile. Maybe even abusive."
"I led you to believe that, didn't I? It wasn't fair of me. He'd been hitting the bottle pretty hard that night."
"Yes, but drinking isn't an excuse for unacceptable behavior, just as grief or guilt or whatever he was experiencing is no excuse for drinking too much. He and Nancy both seem to have a problem with alcohol." An idea came to mind. "Listen, Annie, do me a favor. Before you consider going out with Brian, go to an AA meeting. Monday night at the church."
"But I don't drink."
"No, but you know someone who does." Talking about the AA program turned Helen's thoughts to Lynn Daniels. She'd have to pay the young woman a visit and see how she was doing.
Annie sighed deeply, bringing Helen's thoughts back to their conversation. "You think I should forget about Brian and marry Joe, don't you?"
"I think highly of Joe, but I certainly can't advise you one way or the other when it comes to dating or marriage. If you're not sure, maybe it would be best to wait." Helen smiled. "I will tell you one thing about Joe. If you'll talk to him about your concerns, I think you'll discover that his reason for asking you to marry him has little to do with your business and a lot to do with how much he loves you."
"Then why would he include taking care of me financially on his list of reasons we should get married?"
"Who knows? Maybe he thought that's what you needed or wanted to hear."
"Hm. So you think I ought to talk to him and find out what his motives really are?"
"That would be a step in the right direction."
They talked briefly about Brian, and Helen asked if he'd said anything about his father or Alex.
Though they'd talked about Ethan's death, Annie couldn't remember anything specific. Only that Brian was feeling guilty and upset. Nothing Helen didn't already know.
On her way to the hospital, Helen passed by Rosie's. Lights were on in her upstairs apartment. It was getting very late, but Helen wanted to talk with her, if for no other reason than to assure herself that Rosie was indeed innocent. Eleanor's accusations had become a burr under her proverbial saddle, and Helen couldn't seem to shake the idea that she might have been wrong about Rosie all along. The discussion with Brian hadn't helped. If he was telling the truth about Rosie's lights being out when he had come back to confront her and Ethan, then she either would have left or gone to bed. Rosie never went to bed until after the eleven-o'clock news. So where had she been?
Pulling into the parking lot, Helen cut the engine and looked around. Rosie's car wasn't parked in its usual place. Nor was it in the garage. If she wasn't home, then why were her lights on? An intruder? She stepped out of her car and carefully pushed the door closed until it clicked. There were no other cars in the parking area that bordered Main Street. Helen moved closer to the house and crept around to the back. Her heart hammered against her chest. Sitting in the far corner of the parking lot, where it wouldn't be noticed from the main road, was Dave Feldman's pickup.
Chapter Twenty Four
The window on the passenger side was still down. Helen didn't need much light or imagination to see inside. The keys were still in the ignition. A gun, looking far too much like Rosie's, lay in the open tote bag on the floor of the passenger side. Not wanting to disturb the evidence, Helen backed away.
“What's going on, Rosie?” Helen whispered as she jogged back to her own car and slipped inside, then picked up her cell phone, intending to call Joe. Something almost tangible stopped her.
Despite the evidence, Helen could not believe the Rosie had killed Ethan. She trusted Rosie. Shared secrets with one another.
True, Rosie hadn't told her a lot of things. Could she have been wrong about her all this time? And what about the checks Ethan had written to her? Rosie told her about the first one but hadn't bothered to mention a second. If she'd really told Ethan she didn't want his money, why would he give her a second check for even more?
And as Eleanor had pointed out, why hadn't Rosie just torn up the checks?
Rosie loved Ethan. At least that's what she claimed. Why then would she kill him?
She wouldn't. She certainly wouldn't want to implicate herself by using such an identifiable weapon.
She might. What if she'd lied and Ethan wanted nothing to do with Alex? What if Rosie had expected Ethan to leave Eleanor, and when he wouldn't, she killed him? Or maybe Alex and Rosie were working together to extort Ethan.
Could Eleanor be right in thinking that Rosie was blackmailing Ethan?
Helen closed her eyes and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Joe had accused her of not being objective. If it had been anyone other than Rosie, would she feel so protective?
“No, you would not,” she answered without hesitation.
If she’d spotted Dave's pickup anywhere else but in Rosie's parking lot, She’d have called it in, so what was stopping her now?
Helen couldn't answer. She wanted Rosie to be innocent. More than that, her intuition wouldn't allow her to believe anything else. Or was it her intuition? Calling Joe might result in Rosie's arrest. Helen didn't want that. At least not yet. She needed time to sort things out. Helen shook her head to dispel the barrage of inner voices.
A few minutes later she punched in Joe's cell phone number and reported her findings.
"Amazing. She just parked it right there in her lot?"
"Someone did." Helen peered up at the illuminated windows. "Do me a favor. Hold off for half an hour or so. Give me a chance to talk to Rosie. The truck may be here, but I doubt Rosie used it in the drive-by."
"Just like she didn't—"
"Pull a gun on me, I know. I have to trust my instincts on this one. By the way, Eleanor told me about the second check Ethan wrote to Rosie. Did you question her about that?"
"Haven't had a chance," Joe said. "Since you're there, why don't you see what you can find out? I'll be there as soon as I can get away. Call if you run into any trouble."
"Of course."
Helen hurried around to the entrance of Rosie's apartment and was about to ring the bell, then stopped, hand poised in midair. If, by some remote possibility, Rosie really was the shooter, seeing her now might not be such a good idea. Helen's next thought wasn't a great idea either, but she needed to know the truth.
When Shadows Fall: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 5) Page 18