She wanted to have a look at Rosie's desk and files. Joe had searched through everything on Monday night. There had been no sign of a second check. Rosie kept her books, both personal and business, in the store. According to Eleanor, Ethan had made the check out on Thursday, before his trip to Washington. Had he given the check to Rosie before he left town? He must have. It made no sense that he'd take it with him. Even if he had, wouldn't he have given it to her on Sunday when he returned? Brian had seen him in Rosie's apartment. Rosie would have had plenty of time to deposit it. Unless she was waiting until things cooled down or had it in another account somewhere.
One thing Helen knew for certain. The authorities hadn't found the check on Ethan's body or in his car. The only things in his pockets were his billfold with credit cards, receipts, a little over a hundred dollars cash, and some change. His car keys were gone, but they had shown up in his car along with Chuck's body. And there had been another set in Alex Jordan's jacket. That second set of keys bugged her. Where had it come from?
Maybe Ethan carried a second set of keys in case he lost the first. That wasn't unheard of. He could have had another set at home—accessible to Nancy, Brian, and Eleanor. Ethan might have had a set in the office, which was accessible to any number of people.
Helen dragged her scattered thoughts back to Rosie and the money she'd received from Ethan. She needed to find out what had happened to that check. If Rosie had gotten it, there would be a record of deposit. She went around to the store entrance and used a credit card to slide open the lock.
Rosie needed a dead bolt and maybe a security system. It was much too easy to break in. Helen had mentioned the lack of security more than once. Though Rosie owned a few rare books and a number of autographed first editions, she didn't seem all that concerned about losing them. Rosie would brush away Helen's suggestion with the wave of a hand and say, "I'm not worried. If someone wants something bad enough to steal from me, then they must need it more than I do. Besides, nobody breaks into a bookstore."
Except maybe your son or your best friend. Helen felt anew the conviction that Rosie was innocent. Rosie was being set up, pure and simple.
Objectivity. She had to set her personal feelings for Rosie aside. Once she'd unlocked the door, Helen pushed it open just enough to allow her to slip inside without letting the wind set off the chimes. She quickly closed the door again, then leaned against it and waited for her eyes to adjust. From Rosie's apartment came a familiar television advertisement for an insurance company. The streetlight gave her enough light to find her way around. Hearing a soft thud, she snapped to attention.
Buttermilk wrapped herself around Helen's legs. "You little scamp," she whispered. "You about gave me a heart attack." She reached down to scratch the cat's neck, then straightened and made her way to Rosie's desk. Pulling out her keys, Helen clicked on her penlight and went to work methodically, looking over the stacks of papers on the desk's surface, then sliding open the drawers. She started with the one in the center, the one in which Rosie had kept her gun. It wasn't there and Helen felt a stab of disappointment. She proceeded with her task, rooting through the various papers and supplies. The check wasn't there, nor could she find where it had been deposited in Rosie's personal or business checkbooks.
After thoroughly searching the desk, she snapped off the light again and leaned back in the chair. No deposit for five hundred thousand. Nothing anywhere close. Helen recalled Alex's attempt to clear Rosie by removing any sign of himself from her store. She'd found the one check, but suppose he'd taken the other as well? The deputies hadn't found it on him, but he could have stashed it and whatever else he'd taken into the woods. Or maybe it had escaped his pocket and, like the first one, flown off in another direction.
Then again, Rosie might still have the check upstairs or in her wallet. Helen thought about the bag sitting in Dave's pickup. Was her wallet in there too?
Helen found herself frustrated, confused. How had Rosie's tote bag gotten there? Rosie would never leave her bag in a vehicle with the window down. Especially if she'd just used the vehicle in a drive-by shooting! And the gun sitting there in plain view? Rosie could be forgetful at times and a bit scatterbrained. No, someone had set her up. That was the only answer. Someone had left her bag in the truck for the authorities to find.
If that's the case, she asked herself, how could they have gotten ahold of Rosie's bag and keys? How could they have known about her gun? And why use Dave's pickup?
She really needed to talk to Rosie.
Helen massaged the stiff muscles in her shoulders. The cat jumped onto her lap, turned around three times, and curled into a ball.
"Sorry, Buttermilk." Helen picked her up and set her on the desk. "No naps tonight. At least not on my lap."
Buttermilk meowed, then batted at a pen, which rolled off and hit the floor.
She then heard a creak on the stairs. Light flooded the room. Helen raised a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes.
"Hold it right there," Rosie ordered. "One move and I'll shoot."
Half expecting Rosie to whip around the corner with gun blazing, Helen ducked under the desk. "Rosie," she called. "Put the gun away. It's just me."
"Helen?" Rosie stepped into the room.
Helen peered over the edge of the desk. Rosie had on flannel pajamas and a bathrobe and looked as though she'd been asleep. Pulling her weaponless right hand out of her pocket, she shuffled toward Helen.
"What are you doing here?" Rosie yawned and settled a hip on the desk.
"Looking for evidence." Placing a hand on the desktop, Helen pulled herself up and sat in the desk chair. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on a burglar?"
"You're not a burglar. Are you?"
"No, but that's beside the point. I could have been." Helen eyed the right pocket of Rosie's bathrobe. "Where's your gun?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably still in my car. Why do you want to know?"
"Where's your car?"
"Up at Dave and Adele's. I had dinner there tonight, and when I went to leave, it wouldn't start. Dave loaned me his pickup and said he'd take a look at my car in the morning."
"Dave loaned you his pickup?" Helen dragged a hand through her hair. She had told Joe the pickup was at Rosie's. "When did you get home?"
"Around seven, seven-thirty." Rosie eyed her suspiciously. 'Why all the questions?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. Just bear with me, okay?"
Rosie moved away from the desk and started pacing. "Something else has happened, hasn't it? Another murder?"
Helen shook her head. "Are you sure you were home by seven-thirty?"
"I was. I remember. I started watching Wheel of Fortune."
"Did you go out after that?"
"No." She stopped at the espresso bar. 'Want a cup?"
"No—yes." Helen pushed out of the chair and joined Rosie in the coffee nook. "Are you sure?"
"Sure of what?"
"That you didn't go anywhere." Helen glanced out the window, wondering what was keeping Joe.
Rosie glanced at her, then focused on opening the bag of coffee. "Too tired. I brought in my groceries and put away the yogurt. Then I watched television and read the paper for about ten minutes and fell asleep. I just woke up a few minutes ago and realized the cats were still downstairs." She set the coffee bag back in the cupboard. "What's going on? Why all the questions?"
"I wish I knew. Someone driving Dave's truck slowed down by the seawall where George and I were walking and tried to pump us full of bullets."
Rosie's eyes flashed. "Dave's truck.?" Her hand flew to her chest. "Oh.” Her mouth flopped opened and closed again, but nothing came out. She staggered to the nearest chair and collapsed. "You think I shot at you?"
"I've been trying very hard not to."
"Is that why you were down here snooping around? You were looking for evidence to prove I did it?"
"More to prove you didn't. I'm really trying to believe you didn'
t have anything to do with this, Rosie, but it's getting harder all the time."
Frown lines creased her forehead. "You said someone shot at you and George. But you're okay. You didn't get hurt? Is he . . . ?"
"He'll be okay." Helen explained what had happened.
"What about Dave's truck? If anything happens to it, he'll have a fit."
"It's here, parked in back with the keys still in it."
"Keys. . .. I had my house keys on another chain. I forgot all about those."
"Your gun is there too. along with your bag."
Rosie bounced to her feet. "But how can that be?" Her hands flew to her face. "Oh no . . . Helen, I forgot to bring my bag in. I brought in the groceries and was going to make a second trip. I can't believe I did that."
Helen placed both hands on Rosie's shoulders. "Sit. I'll finish the coffee and we'll talk about it. Just calm down."
"But we have to get it. I can't leave that stuff out there. It might get stolen.''
"Too late for that. At this point, it's evidence. Maybe there are prints other than yours and Dave's in the truck. It's better if we don't touch anything."
"Did you call Joe?"
"Yes. He should be here any minute. I'm surprised they haven't gotten here already. Someone from the department should have had someone questioning Dave right after the shooting."
"He's not home. He and Adele went to the casino. They were having a jazz concert there tonight."
"Still, you'd think if your car was there, they'd make an obvious connection."
"It wasn't parked by the house. I got about a block away before it conked out."
"How convenient," Helen murmured. "Once they find out you have that pickup, they're sure to arrest you."
"But I didn't do anything." Rosie folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them.
Helen put the coffee on, then borrowed a note pad and pen from Rosie's desk. She pulled a chair out from one of the tables and started making notes. She had to get things in some sort of order, and often writing the events and suspects down helped put things into perspective.
"Okay," Helen said, "let's start with the checks Ethan gave you."
"I told you about that." Rosie wrapped her arms around herself. "And it was only one."
"Ethan wrote you a check dated last Thursday for five hundred thousand. Are you saying he never gave it to you?"
"No." She frowned. "Why would he give me that kind of money?"
"Blackmail?"
"That's ridiculous!" Rosie began pacing, rubbing her arms. "To blackmail someone you need dirt from someone's past. Ethan didn't have any secrets."
"He didn't?"
"He wasn't ashamed of Alex."
"Is it possible that Ethan planned to offer you more money to keep quiet? You were having an affair with him. Maybe he thought it over and decided he didn't want people to know about your relationship or about Alex."
"He was excited about meeting Alex," Rosie insisted. "He seemed a little worried Sunday night, but he didn't say anything about keeping it quiet."
"What about your affair?"
"It wasn't an affair. We made a mistake. We decided that night not to see each other privately anymore. He came by Sunday night to tell me that he had no intention of leaving Eleanor or breaking up his family."
Helen shuddered. Rosie had motive after all. "That must have hurt you—losing Ethan twice like that."
"Of course it did, but I knew from the start that we couldn't be together. I never intended to break up their marriage."
"I find that hard to believe. Brian Crane said he saw you and Ethan Sunday night. 'Making out' were his exact words."
"Oh." Rosie covered her face.
"Were you lying to me about breaking it off with Ethan?"
"No." Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. "He. . .we were saying good-bye. That's all. Just a kiss good-bye. If Brian saw us. . .. Do you think he could have killed Ethan?"
"He says he didn't. He admitted to wanting to kill both of you but says he went for a walk instead. When he came back by here, the lights were out. He drove by the restaurant, but his dad's car was already gone."
"And you believe him?"
"I don't know. He wasn't lying about being at Annie's tonight, so he wasn't involved in the shooting."
"M-maybe they're not related."
"They have to be." Helen got up to get their coffee while Rosie set out mugs and a plate of biscotti.
"Maybe Brian has someone working with him, his sister.” Rosie sat down again and clasped her hands. "Eleanor could be in on it with him. If she knew about Ethan and me, it's no telling what she'd do."
"She did know. She's known for a long time. I really think if she wanted revenge, she'd have done it when she first found out.
"She must hate me."
"She probably does. And I don't blame her. You had an affair with her husband. Anyway, we've already been over that ground. If she did kill Ethan, how would she have gotten the letter opener? You said yourself she never comes into the store."
"She could have broken in."
"Not likely." Helen told Rosie about Eleanor's generosity toward Alex. "She doesn't seem to resent him."
"I don't know what to say. I didn't expect any of them to accept Alex, certainly not Eleanor." Rosie smiled. "Shows how wrong you can be about people. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Ethan told me they would all come around."
"Maybe he was right. It's entirely possible we're too focused on the family to see the other players." Helen flipped to a fresh piece of paper and began jotting down events on the yellow note pad.
1. Sunday night—Ethan murdered. Killer drives Ethan's car to Kernville Road and ditches it into the river with Chuck's body inside. Walks back or has someone pick him up.
2. Monday—Ethan's body found. Family told. Rosie panics and runs.
3. Lynn reports Chuck missing.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a time line. Once I do that, I'll place people into slots. That way I can see who might have had opportunity, the method, and the means to commit the crimes. I'm missing something important. And this may help."
4. Monday night—Alex breaks into Past Times and is arrested.
5. Tuesday—Chuck's body found in Ethan’s car.
6. Tuesday night—drive-by shooting.
"You got home around seven-thirty tonight, right?"
Rosie nodded.
"George and I were at the restaurant then. We left shortly after eight-thirty and parked at the seawall so we could talk privately about the investigation. We'd only been walking a short time when I noticed Dave's truck. I assumed it was Dave, but before I could get a good look, the driver started firing at us. A guy from one of the apartments heard the shots and called the sheriff’s office."
"Who knew you were there besides me?" Rosie broke a cookie in half and dipped a portion into her coffee.
Helen frowned. 'You knew we were there? How?" Rosie had already left the scene at the river when Helen and George had agreed to eat dinner together.
"I saw your car parked at Tidal Raves on my way home from the grocery store." Rosie paused with her biscotti an inch from her open mouth. "I didn't do it, Helen. You're my best friend."
Helen tapped the pen on the pad. "George asked me to dinner when we were watching them pull Ethan's car out of the river. So whoever was there heard us talking. Stephanie, Joe, Tom. While we were at the restaurant, Eleanor and her family came in and left."
"Could one of them have done it?"
"They left early enough, I suppose, but Brian went straight to Annie's. She backed up his alibi," Helen added before Rosie could comment.
"Brian and Annie? What happened to Joe?"
"Don't ask." Helen waved her biscotti in the air and steered the conversation back on track. "Eleanor and the girls left the restaurant right after Brian did."
Rosie chewed on her lip. "What about Nancy?"
"I went to the Cranes' place shortly after the shootin
g, and Eleanor told me they'd come home and made a light dinner there. I don't think either Nancy or Eleanor would have had time to go home to drop the others off, come back here, steal Dave's truck, then go back to the seawall to shoot at us." She shook her head. "Makes no sense."
'Well. .Rosie bit her lower lip. "Someone did take my letter opener so it would look like I killed Ethan. They must have wanted to implicate me in this too."
Helen sighed. "So they steal your brother-in-law's truck and try to kill George and me.
"What do you mean? They have to. I'm not a killer. you know that. Neither is Alex. And this proves it, doesn't it? Alex is still in jail. So he couldn't have been the one who shot at you, which means he couldn't have killed Ethan."
But you could have. Helen breathed a sigh of relief as she caught a glimpse of blue flashing lights.
Chapter Twenty Five
We have to talk." Helen spoke to Joe when one of his deputies led Rosie outside. It almost made Helen cry to see Rosie so subdued and giving up without a fight.
"I'll say." Joe shot her another disappointed look.
Helen sighed. "She didn't do it, Joe. Can't you see that?"
"What I see is some pretty compelling evidence saying she did. Now my job is to put it all together. I like Rosie, but you gotta look at the facts."
"If Rosie were going to kill someone, do you honestly think she'd use her own letter opener? Or her gun? Or her brother-in- law's pickup? My goodness, the path to her door couldn't have been better marked if it had been done by Girl Scouts on a camping trip."
"Not every bad guy is a brain surgeon. You have to admit Rosie hasn't been running on a full tank of gas lately. Pulling her gun on you the other day is proof enough of that. And this business of forgetting her bag and keys in the pickup is just plain nonsense. That gun has recently been fired. There was a check in her wallet for five hundred thousand. No way would she forget about that. She's either lying or developing Alzheimer's."
"Or she's telling the truth, and someone is going to great lengths to frame her."
When Shadows Fall: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 5) Page 19