When Shadows Fall: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 5)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "Who?" He snorted. "One of the Cranes? I don't think so."

  "What about Nancy?"

  "All Nancy cares about is herself. I don't think she's been sober enough to add two and two together since she got to Bay Village."

  "Are you sure about that? Maybe we've underestimated Nancy's abilities."

  Joe shook his head. "She's got an alibi for Sunday night. She was in her room drinking and watching television."

  "She could have sneaked out."

  "Melissa corroborated her mother's story."

  Helen decided not to argue the point. "There are other suspects. I talked to the attorney representing the developers for the Riverside Mall."

  "You mean Nathan Young?"

  "You talked to him?" Helen was surprised. But then why shouldn't he have interviewed the lawyer? Joe had always been thorough.

  "Of course. Not long after you did."

  "Did he give you the names of the investors?"

  "No. Client confidentiality. When I pressed him and threatened a subpoena, he gave me the three names he had in his file. Only one was local, but I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet."

  "Are you going to tell me who she is?"

  "Lynn Daniels."

  "Chuck's wife? Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Helen's heart beat a little faster. Could Lynn be their killer?

  "Not really. The attorney told me that to register as a corporation, they needed to list three officers—the CEO, secretary, and the treasurer."

  'Who were the others?"

  "The secretary was a woman named Elsie Turner from Portland. Lynn was listed as the treasurer. Can't remember the name of the CEO. I've got it in my notes if you want it."

  "Please."

  Joe took a small note pad out of his left front shirt pocket and flipped back a few pages. "Here it is Jonathan Meyers." His gaze narrowed as it moved to her. "If you're thinking Lynn might be involved in the murders, you're wrong. I've already talked to her."

  "And she has an alibi?"

  Joe gave her a withering look. "Sunday night, she left the restaurant about the time Ethan and Alex came in. Went straight home. Her kids corroborated her statement. Told me their mom made popcorn and watched Touched by an Angel with them."

  "And after that? We don't have the exact time of death, do we?"

  "Not exactly. Ethan left the restaurant around eight. No one remembers seeing him after that. Chuck's watch stopped at nine-forty-five. We figure Ethan and Alex took a walk on the beach. Sunday night was pretty balmy, as you recall."

  She did recall, quite well, actually. She and J.B. had walked along the beach at Foggarty Creek State Park. Though she wouldn't have called it balmy, it had been nice: clear sky, around sixty degrees, and a light breeze. J.B.'s kisses had made it feel like a night in the tropics. Helen blinked away the intrusive thoughts and focused back on Joe.

  "They argued," Joe went on. "Alex killed him and left his body lying in the sand. I'm thinking he might have run into Chuck when he started to take off in Ethan's car. Chuck tried to stop him, so Alex had to kill him too. Took him up the river and pushed the car into the water, then walked back to get his car.

  "That's a long way. Wouldn't someone have seen him?"

  "Maybe, but no one responded to our requests for information. It's possible he cut through the woods, but a lot of that area is marshland. That's where Rosie comes in. Alex denies it, but I'm thinking he asked her to meet him out there. That would explain why she panicked when you told her about Ethan. She may not have known about the murders."

  "It's hard to believe she'd go to such lengths to protect a man she'd only just met."

  "He's her son. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think she was in on killing Ethan or Chuck. I think Alex did that. She might have pulled that drive-by to take suspicion off Alex."

  "And frame herself?"

  Joe rubbed his eyes. He looked beat. "I don't have time for guessing games. All I can do is assure you that I'm not going to stop looking until I have all the holes filled with the right pegs.

  Okay?"

  Helen nodded. "I guess it has to be."

  "Good. Now get out of here. You look terrible."

  "Thanks."

  When she reached the door, Joe called out, "Tell J.B. I said hello."

  Helen didn't bother to respond.

  Exhausted, she climbed into her car. George would be out of surgery by now. Though the cold air and coffee had revived her some, by the time she got to the outskirts of Bay Village, she could hardly keep her eyes open. The hospital visit would have to wait until morning.

  She pulled into her driveway at two a.m., narrowly missing the back end of J.B.'s car.

  "I do not want to deal with him tonight," she muttered between clenched teeth. Maybe he'd be upstairs asleep. She'd go in quietly and sleep on the couch. Better to have it out with him in the morning. Considering the foul mood she was in at the moment, she might say things they'd both regret.

  With a prayer for courage and strength, she let herself in.

  "It's late." Though he had said it softly, his baritone voice filled the room. Without turning on the light, he rose from the couch and came toward her. "Where have you been?"

  "I might ask you the same question." She hung her keys on the peg by the door. When he reached for her, she moved aside to set her bag in the closet and hang up her coat.

  "You're not still angry with me, are you, luv?" he crooned in that lovely voice of his.

  "Shouldn't I be?" Though her body ached to feel his arms around her, she stepped around him and headed for the kitchen.

  He followed her. "You know how it is. In my line of work."

  "Work? Don't give me that. You're retired. You had lunch with a woman. An attractive young woman who seemed to think you were fair game."

  She switched on the light and captured the shocked look on his face. Good.

  Then he had the audacity to smile as if he appreciated her detecting skills. "How did you find out about that?"

  "It doesn't matter." She went to the cupboard to retrieve a glass of water. "What matters is that you lied to me."

  "I've never lied to you."

  "No, I suppose that's true enough. You just don't bother to tell me anything."

  "You're jealous." The idea seemed to please him.

  Helen ran the water, watching it drain into the black hole.

  He came up behind her, enveloping her in his arms. Her legs melted like wax left in the sun. "Don't touch me." She concentrated on filling her glass.

  He pressed his lips against the back of her neck. "Come now, luv. You can't mean it."

  Helen slammed the glass on the counter and jabbed her elbow into his stomach. "I said don't touch me."

  Clutching his stomach, he groaned and staggered backward, nearly knocking over a chair. He managed to right it, then leaned over the kitchen table, trying to catch his breath.

  Helen rushed to his side. What had she done? He looked as though he were having another heart attack. "Oh, J.B., I'm so sorry. I didn't mean. . .."

  Red-faced, he sucked in a breath and lowered himself onto a chair. "I can't. . . believe you . . . did that," he managed to say.

  "Are you all right?"

  He nodded. "Give me a minute."

  J.B. became a blur as her eyes filled with tears. She moved away so he couldn't see. With her back to him, she dabbed at the tears with a napkin, then drank the entire glass of water.

  When she'd gathered herself together and trusted herself to speak, she turned back to him. "I need answers, J.B. You can't leave me in the lurch like this and expect me to simply fall into your arms when you come back home."

  "She was an agent." J.B.'s tone hinted at anger.

  "Who?"

  "The woman I was with."

  "An agent? You . . .you went back to work? Without telling

  me?"

  "Not exactly. I don't know what you're so upset about. I phoned you."

  "Which told me nothing. I had vis
ions of you going through surgery, being diagnosed with some dreaded disease. You were so secretive."

  "My health is fine. The doctor said I could resume my activities."

  "How was I to know that? All I knew was that you got a phone call and it changed everything. You shut me out, J.B. All I could think about was that your doctor had called with results of your tests. Then I find out you're having lunch with a younger woman. You should have told me something, anything to let me know what you were up to."

  "Not then. I had no choice. I still can't tell you what it was all about. You know how it is."

  "Not anymore. You're retired. You had a heart attack, remember? There was no reason for me to think you'd gone back to work. I admit that was my immediate reaction, but I figured there's no way they'd put you back in the field. They shouldn't have."

  "I didn't go back to work as an agent, Helen. I wouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

  "Then what?"

  "I'm on call as a consultant." He stood and held his hand out to her. "That's all I can tell you at the moment. You trusted me once. Why can't you do that now?"

  His compelling blue eyes with their loving gaze shattered her defenses. "Consultant to whom and for what? Can't you at least tell me that?"

  "Not yet."

  "She was an agent?"

  He nodded.

  Again Helen looked him in the eyes. God help her, she did trust him. Implicitly. She'd never liked the secrecy his job often demanded, but she understood the need for it. Helen put her hand in his. "Let's go to bed."

  He released her hand and gathered her into his arms. "I thought you'd never ask."

  Helen waited until morning to call George. He was doing fine and would be released in a couple of days. While she and J.B. ate breakfast, she told him about Ethan and Chuck. He lis­tened sympathetically, occasionally asking for clarification.

  When she'd finished, he remained silent for a while, then said, "Sounds as though this son of Rosie's, if that's what he is, has a way with the women, eh?"

  'What do you mean?"

  "Rosie was completely taken in. You tell me you think he's innocent. This new deputy—"

  "Stephanie."

  "Right. She's sympathetic to him as well. And Eleanor and Lynn . .

  "Are you suggesting I let the man's charm alter my thinking?"

  "Not at all. I'm merely making an observation. Did Joe tell you whether or not his prints turned up anything?"

  "He didn't mention it."

  "Tell you what. I'll get one of the FBI agents in Portland to check him out. Send his photo around if Joe hasn't already done it. We should be able to find out in short order whether or not he's a phony."

  "Don't you think Joe has already done that?"

  "To some extent, yes. I would imagine he's gotten the process started, but with the department's limited resources, they won't have the manpower or the time to run a thorough check."

  Helen and J.B. stopped by the sheriff’s department on their way to see Rosie.

  Joe welcomed the FBI's involvement in the investigation. "He's apparently had no prior arrests, and we haven't been able to match up his prints. I sent out a photo to law-enforcement agencies in Portland but haven't heard anything back yet."

  Stephanie tapped on Joe's office door. "Sorry to bother you,

  Joe, but I think you might want to see this." She handed Joe a manila folder.

  While Joe looked over the contents of the file, Helen introduced Stephanie to J.B. Stephanie shook hands with him, then turned to Helen. "Looks like we were wrong about Jordan, Mrs. Bradley. He's not Rosie's son."

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The news wasn't a total surprise. Helen had wondered about Alex Jordan's authenticity from the start. Still, the man had charmed her and she resented it. "Does Rosie know?"

  "Not yet."

  "If you don't mind," Helen said, "I'd like to tell her."

  Joe nodded. "Thanks. I wasn't relishing the task."

  "I'll need the details."

  "No problem." Joe leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "I thought it might be a good idea to check out Jordan's claim, so I asked Stephanie to do a search on the Internet. As you know, I've had doubts about him all along."

  Stephanie closed the office door and leaned against it. "I accessed birth records and found that the birth certificate Alex gave Rosie is legitimate. Even the name is right. The baby Rosie gave up for adoption went to Charles and Evelyn Jordan. I called them, and they assured me that their son has not been searching for his birth mother. Doesn't even know he was adopted. He's happily married with three kids and living in Tucson."

  "How did you locate them so quickly?" Helen asked.

  "I went through the agencies who link people up to their birth parents. One of the agencies, Adoption Link, had already tracked them down. They said they'd gotten an inquiry from the birth mother about two months ago. The agency contacted the Jordans, who asked that no one try to contact their son. The agency said Rosie thanked them for trying and agreed not to pursue the matter. Here's the kicker. Rosie says she never tried to find her son."

  "Which means Alex went on-line posing as Rosie."

  "Looks that way." Stephanie unfolded her arms. "We e- mailed the Jordans a photo of our Alex. They said he definitely wasn't their son and had never seen him before."

  "You're certain you have the right people?" Helen asked.

  "I'm sure,” Stephanie said.

  "I have a feeling Rosie isn't the first person he's conned." Joe handed Helen the file. "Proving it may not be that easy." He nodded at the folder. "You'll want to show this to Rosie. There's a picture of her real son in there. Funny, Alex looks more like Ethan's kid than he does."

  J.B. looked at the report over Helen's shoulder. "Helen tells me you have this Jordan fellow pegged as your killer."

  "I did." Joe pulled a file from the side of his desk to the center and opened it. "After reading the reports this morning, I'm not so sure. Unfortunately, we don't have the kind of evidence that will stand up in trial. We can't prove he was the last person to see Ethan alive. Nor can we prove he had Rosie's letter opener. Jordan says he left the restaurant while Ethan was still inside paying the bill. The waitress confirms that. As it stands now, we can't even charge him with breaking and entering. Rosie told us he had a key and refused to press charges."

  "How did Alex's jacket get into Ethan's car?" Helen took a small spiral notebook and pen from her bag and began making notes.

  "Jordan claimed their jackets got switched at the restaurant. They were both a brown leather. He didn't realize he had Ethan's jacket until he got home. He drove back to the restau­rant. Says when he got there Ethan's car was still parked in the same place. He figured Ethan must have called someone and gotten a ride home. Jordan went back home and called Ethan to tell him he had the jacket, but no one answered the phone."

  'We know Eleanor was in church. Where were Nancy and Melissa?"

  "Melissa says she had her earphones in and was listening to her CDs and hanging out in her room. Nancy claims she was in her room reading and didn't hear it ring."

  Helen wrote both names and entered their alibis. "I'm sorry, you were telling us about Ethan's jacket."

  "Alex told us he decided to wait until morning and take the jacket to Ethan at his office. Claims he didn't go out again that night—just watched some television and went to bed. We can't prove or disprove his statement. We do know that he showed up at the mayor's office Monday morning and left Ethan's jacket with the secretary. It was there when we searched the place, but nobody paid much attention to it at the time. We didn't pick up the jacket until yesterday."

  "Which means Ethan must have called someone to pick him up at the restaurant."

  "Or Alex is lying. I'm still not ruling him out as a suspect. Ethan did make a couple of phone calls. We were able to access the calls he made on his cell phone that night. At 8:50 he made a call to Rosie. At 8:53 he called a locksmith."

&nb
sp; "He didn't call home?" J.B. asked.

  "It was Sunday night," Joe answered. "He probably knew Eleanor would be in church, which she was."

  "If he called a locksmith, Rosie must not have been home." Helen tapped the tip of the pen against the pad.

  "She wasn't. My guess is that she had already gone to the restaurant. I still haven't ruled out the possibility that she and Alex were working together in this. She was under the impression that Alex was her son. We have to consider the money involved here as well."

  Over the next couple of days, J.B.'s sources located six women who identified Alex as the son they'd given up at birth. In each case he'd provided a copy of what looked like an original birth certificate and claimed to want nothing other than to get to know them. Each of the women, like Rosie, was unmarried. The women were fifty-five and older, and in each case, at least one of the birth parents had a substantial income. The "son" showed up wanting nothing but eventually ending up with large sums of money through inheritances. None of the cases involved murder, but as Joe said, there's always a first time.

  After his initial contact, Alex would stay in town for several months, then move on, promising to keep in touch. Which he did with phone calls and letters until one or both of the "birth parents" died. He'd then be notified, go to the funeral, and come out with an inheritance, some small, others substantial.

  “People like me provide a service," Alex had admitted. "I'm not doing anything wrong—just putting some happiness into their lives."

  So far they had found none of his mothers willing to press charges.

  Rosie was anything but happy when Helen visited her in jail later that day.

  "Are you sure he's not my son?" Rosie had already gone through a dozen tissues and was working her way through a new box. "He looks so much like Ethan."

  "Maybe that's because you wanted him to." Helen put a comforting arm around Rosie's shoulders. "He's very good at what he does, Rosie. He's a patient man and very convincing. A number of people were taken in by him, and we've probably just skimmed the tip of the iceberg. We're fortunate to have learned the truth about him when we did. Who knows how much he'd have gotten away with? Eleanor was ready to give him close to a million dollars."