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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "I-I suppose you're right." Rosie blew her nose. "It's just that I loved having a son. Now I find out my real son doesn't want to see me."

  "He doesn't know you exist. Maybe that will change."

  "I feel so used, Helen. I put my life on the line for Alex. He asked me if I would help prove his innocence. That if I didn't do something, he'd be sent to prison for life. He thought if there was another incident, they'd know he couldn't have done it and they'd have to let him go."

  Helen's mind raced over Rosie's words as she bounced to her feet. "What are you saying? The drive-by? You did that?"

  "Nobody was supposed to get hurt. I aimed clear away from

  you. The bullets were supposed to go over your heads."

  "Then you are one lousy shot, lady!" Helen fumed.

  "I was going to do it when you came out of the restaurant. I was waiting across the street, but... I couldn't. I was so scared. I was afraid I'd hit the windows or one of the cars in the parking lot. I followed you far enough to see what you were doing and . . . and finally worked up enough nerve to . . She winced.

  "I can't believe this!" Helen paced back and forth across. Rosie’s cell. "How could you do something so crazy?"

  "I don't know. All I wanted to do was help my son. It sounded so simple when Alex told me what to do. It would have been fine if I hadn't been driving that dumb truck. The shocks are horrible. I really wasn't shooting at you."

  "You could have fooled me." Helen stopped pacing and, with arms folded, stood in front of Rosie. "George was seriously injured. And didn't it occur to you that we might be able to identify Dave's pickup? Or that the evidence would lead back to you? That would probably have happened even if you hadn't forgotten to take your bag in with you. What were you thinking?

  Rosie pressed her hands to her eyes. "Apparently I wasn't."

  "You've got that right!" Helen forced herself to take a long, steady breath.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

  "What about the check, Rosie? The one for five hundred thousand that was in your wallet? Were you lying about that too?"

  She looked up briefly, clasping and unclasping her hands. "I don't know how it got there. I honestly don't. Ethan may have put it in there Sunday night. He knew I wouldn't take it. But it wouldn't be unlike him to try. Maybe he meant for Alex to have it."

  "Maybe he did. I guess we'll never know for certain." Helen signaled for the guard to let her out. "Have you called your attorney yet?"

  Rosie nodded. "I talked to her last night."

  "Then I suggest you talk to her again. This time you'd better tell her the truth."

  "I would never purposely hurt you, Helen. Or George either." She held out her hand. "I'm sorry."

  Helen didn't know whether to hug Rosie or hit her. She looked so pathetic that Helen relented and took hold of Rosie's proffered hand. "I'm sorry too, Rosie."

  "You'll still be my friend, won't you?"

  "I have to go. J.B.'s waiting for me."

  Rosie gave Helen a teary smile. "He came back, then. I knew he would."

  "I guess deep down I knew it too."

  After promising Rosie she'd come back the next day, Helen joined J.B. in the waiting area. He took one look at her and wrapped her in his arms. Several moments later she stepped away. "Thank you."

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  "For not saying I told you so."

  "Ah, lass. The man's a pro. Smooth as silk, he is. After talking to him, I can understand why you'd think him innocent. He's a con man, but I'm with ye all the way about the killing. His MO doesn't fit. Joe's right in saying there could be a first time. But I don't think so. Far as we can tell, he's never physically harmed anyone. Nor is he likely to. He's still swearing he had nothing to do with those two deaths, and I believe him."

  Helen squeezed his hand. "I'm not sure I do. I don't even know about Rosie. I should talk to him again."

  "He's gone. Released on bail."

  Helen didn't know how she felt about that. For the moment she'd had enough of the entire affair. When J.B. suggested they take a walk on the beach and then have dinner in Lincoln City, Helen couldn't have been more pleased.

  The next morning, the phone rang while Helen and J.B. were eating breakfast. Helen answered. It was Joe.

  "Thought you two would want to know. There's been another murder."

  "Oh no. I'm almost afraid to ask."

  "Alex Jordan. A hiker found his body this morning up by Drift Creek Trail."

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

  Helen only half listened to the pastor's words. This was her third funeral in as many days. Ethan, Chuck, and now Alex, or whoever he was. So far they hadn't been able to come up with his real name.

  About twenty people had gathered around the gravesite. Helen recognized some of them as co-workers from Chuck's construction company. They'd come to know Alex as a hard worker, a man they could depend on. Even though the news media had exposed him as a fraud, the people who had met and worked with him felt a deep loss at his passing. While most came because he had touched their lives in some way, others were there out of curiosity. Eleanor hadn't come, nor had Nancy or Brian, but Helen would have been surprised if they'd shown up. When Eleanor found out about Alex's duplicity, she dismissed him. She would, however, set aside a portion of Ethan's estate for Ethan and Rosie's real son if and when the Jordans decided to reveal his past to him.

  Helen recognized most of the people there. But there was one who stood off by herself.

  Joe had been eyeing her as well. He'd undoubtedly catch up with her when the funeral ended.

  "What a waste," Lynn Daniels whispered to Helen after the pastor had offered the final prayer, and they had all responded with an amen. "He was such a likeable man."

  "Yes, he was," Helen agreed. Con artists often were.

  "And dependable." Lynn's red-rimmed eyes filled with fresh tears. She dabbed at the corner of her left eye. "As soon as he got out of jail, he called me and said he'd be able to work the next day if I still wanted him."

  "Really?"

  "I told him I did, only he never got the chance." Her watery gaze drifted downward to Rosie who was sitting in the only chair. She'd been released on bail shortly after Helen's visit. "Rosie, honey, I'm so sorry. He was a good person."

  Helen didn't comment. She was still angry at Alex for duping all of them. For that matter, she was still pretty upset with Rosie. Rosie's actions had damaged a good friendship. Helen doubted it would ever be the same. Still, with Rosie being so distraught, Helen couldn't abandon her. She'd see her through the upcoming trial for her part in the drive-by shooting and see what happened.

  Helen backed away from the mourners and looked around for the woman she'd seen earlier. There was no sign of her or Joe.

  J.B. put an arm around her. "Are you ready to go home, luv?"

  She nodded. The two of them half carried Rosie to J.B.'s car and tucked her into the backseat. She would spend the day at Helen's house. Hers, she'd said, was too big and empty.

  On the way home, Helen leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

  Despite efforts to determine his true identity, the man who had just been buried as Alex Jordan remained a mystery. The woman at the funeral, Joe told them later, was just a curious onlooker. No link that he could see.

  Alex had come to Bay Village with little more than a phony driver's license, the birth certificate he'd claimed as his own, and a few articles of clothing. Nothing to link him to the past. He'd purchased his van in Portland with cash. In fact, he'd paid cash for everything, including the rent on his small furnished bungalow at the south end of Lincoln City.

  Circulating his photo on television and the Internet hadn't produced a single lead as to who the man really was. They'd only turned up two more people identifying him as the man they'd come to know as a son or half-brother. In each case, the victims of his scam were surprised to learn he'd lied to them. J.
B. assured Helen that his department would be able to trace him eventually. She believed they would, but not soon enough to suit her.

  Not knowing who he was or where he'd come from didn't bother Helen half as much as not knowing who killed him and why. He'd been shot, a single bullet through the head. Close range. The shooter had been sitting in the passenger seat of his van. Which meant he probably knew his assailant.

  According to the police report, Alex had received a large sum of money over the last few weeks. His weekly paycheck, which he always cashed at the grocery store, had provided more than enough to live on. A teller at a local bank remembered him cashing the hundred-thousand-dollar check from Rosie and had even called Rosie for verification. The teller paid him in thousand-dollar bills, which he'd placed in a battered brown leather briefcase and then put in the back of his van. It was money the authorities had yet to locate.

  Though he'd had no checking account, he kept detailed records of his income and expenditures in a long, narrow journal, beginning at the first of the year. There were no names to indicate the source of income. The expense side of the journal varied, except for two items. One was the five hundred dollars for rent. Another, which simply read "payment" for twenty-two hundred dollars, went out the first of each month.

  His last entry, dated November thirteenth, was for ten thousand dollars, listed under income. That was on Monday, the day Helen found Ethan's body. With it, he had a balance of over a quarter of a million dollars.

  J.B. looked at a Xerox copy of the logbook Joe handed him and whistled. "That's a lot of cash to be carrying around."

  "He had a stash somewhere." Joe took a piece of garlic bread from the basket and passed it on to Rosie. "We just haven't been able to find it."

  Annie had invited Joe, Rosie, Helen, and J.B. to dinner following Alex's funeral. She offered to cook the dinner if Helen would provide the house. They'd gathered in the formal dining room, and the conversation had naturally drifted to the investigation.

  "Personally," Joe went on, "I think he had a partner. They'd planned to meet and split the take. Only his partner didn't want to share."

  "Or," J.B. added, "this partner got spooked and feared Alex might talk."

  Helen had other ideas. "He may have hidden it somewhere. maybe a storage shed or locker or some such thing. I doubt he'd carry it around with him."

  Joe shook his head. "There would have been a key or a rental agreement. We didn't find anything like that in either his house or his van."

  Helen considered that for a moment. "Rosie, did Alex say anything about a special account or what he might be going to do with the check you gave him?"

  Rosie didn't answer at first. She looked up at Helen with a dazed expression. Helen repeated the question.

  "I can't think of anything. Maybe he gave the money to someone," Rosie said. "He struck me as that sort of person. He lived so frugally. Maybe he sent the money to a wife or a mother... or sister. Someone who . . . who needed a lot of medical care. He wouldn't have resorted to conning people if he'd had another choice."

  Joe jabbed his knife into the butter. "I wish you'd quit trying to defend him, Rosie. The man was a crook."

  "I can't help it. There was something good about him. I sensed it. He had a secret side, but. . ."

  "He had a secret side all right, a dark one," Joe grumped.

  "Joe," Annie said, with a warning in her voice. "Be nice. You can't expect Rosie to turn her feelings around just like that. She thought he was her son."

  Helen and J.B. exchanged glances. Neither of them had been especially anxious to host the dinner. Helen thought it might be good for Rosie to be around friends. She'd tried to steer their conversation to safer ground a number of times, but it always shifted back to the murder investigations.

  'You're right, honey," Joe said. "I'm sorry, Rosie. I just hate to see you taken advantage of."

  "Excuse me." Tears filled Rosie's eyes. She pushed back her chair and left the room.

  "I'd better check on her." Helen got up and followed Rosie out. She'd been on the edge for days. Too many losses. Too much grief.

  The bathroom door was ajar so Helen eased it open. Rosie sat on the closed toilet lid, mopping up her tears. "I'm sorry, Helen. I can't seem to stop crying."

  "That's understandable."

  "I'm ruining your dinner party."

  "Not much of a party. Anyway, that's the least of my worries. I just wish there was something I could do to help you through this."

  "There isn't." She sniffled and blew her nose. "Well, finding the real killer would help. And maybe finding out who Alex really was. I need to know."

  "So do I, Rosie." She settled a hand on Rosie's shoulder. "Can I get you anything?"

  "No. Just let me sit here for a few minutes. I need to pull myself together."

  Helen took a washcloth out of the linen closet and set it beside the sink. "In case you want to wash your face."

  "Thank you." Rosie lowered her hands and looked up at her friend. "And thanks for sticking by me. I know I'm acting like a baby but. . ..

  "You don't have to explain. Grief is what it is. You've been through a lot lately."

  "It might be best if I just go home."

  "I wish you wouldn't. I hate for you to be alone. Why don't you go upstairs and lie down in the guest room for a few minutes?"

  "M-maybe I will."

  Helen closed the door and then joined the others at the table. They ate in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. At least the others ate. Helen just moved the food around on her plate.

  J.B. spooned Annie's marinara-mushroom sauce over his noodles. "Just wish we had more to go on."

  "The dental records should show us something," Joe said as he sprinkled freshly grated Parmesan on his spaghetti. "Dr. Sperling said his teeth had been worked on recently."

  Dr. Sperling had come in to replace George, who'd gone to a rehab facility in Portland. Sperling had completed the autopsy report of the three victims, concurring with George on Ethan's stab wound. It turned out that Chuck had died from a cocaine overdose; he was dead before the Jaguar plunged into the river. There were traces of the drug in the empty liquor bot­tle. Helen felt certain he hadn't put it there himself.

  "Possibly," J.B. said with regard to the dental records. "If he used his real name."

  "I'm glad the FBI is in on this investigation," Joe said. 'We just don't have the resources. It's all I can do to get a handle on the crimes happening in our own county."

  "You need more funds." Annie swirled several strands of spaghetti around her fork.

  "I've been saying that for years," agreed Joe. "Things should be getting better, though. With the new shopping mall going in, we'll get a fair amount of revenue from the new businesses."

  Helen folded her napkin and set it on the table. "The proposal went through?"

  "Passed city council by a landslide. The attorney for the corporation managed to convince everyone that the wildlife area was not in jeopardy and that the benefits far outweighed the negatives."

  "I should have been there," Helen said. "I missed the notice in the paper."

  "It's no wonder, luv, with all you've been doing these past few days. I'm not at all surprised. Last I talked to Ethan, he was saying most of the locals wanted the mall to go in, including his wife. She'd been after him for weeks to change his mind."

  "Mm. Eleanor told me the same thing. Said she'd rather shop than bird-watch."

  Joe wiped his mouth on the napkin. "I'd sure like to know who's behind that development. Those names didn't turn up anything. Lynn didn't even know she was listed, but in checking over the books, she discovered that Chuck had invested heavily in it."

  "Are we sure it was Chuck and not Lynn?" Helen asked.

  "Yah. Nathan admitted that Chuck was one of the investors. He still says he doesn't know who the others are."

  Helen turned to J.B. "When did you talk to Ethan about the development?"

  "Thursday morning when we were at the m
en's breakfast."

  "Was he thinking of backing down then?"

  "Didn't say. I encouraged him to stick to his guns. There are still a lot of residents opposing it."

  Helen heard the back door close. "Rosie's leaving." She excused herself and hurried into the kitchen. Their eyes met as Rosie was opening her car door. There was something in her expression. Determination, anger? Helen couldn't be sure. Whatever it was set off an alarm in Helen's head. Rosie was up to something.

  Helen walked back into the dining room. "She's leaving. I'd better follow her."

  "I'll go with you," J.B. offered.

  "No. You should stay with our guests. I'll be fine. I just want to make certain she's all right. She's been so depressed." While Helen talked, she had pulled on her jacket and retrieved her purse. "I have to hurry."

  J.B. joined her in the entryway, then, opening the door for her, gave her a quick kiss.

  "I'll be back soon," Helen promised. Seconds later she was on the road heading into Bay Village. Rosie's taillights were several blocks ahead.

  When Rosie pulled into her place, Helen slowed and stayed out of sight. Something Rosie had said or reacted to during their conversation niggled at the back of Helen's mind. Rosie knew something. Maybe she knew about the money Alex had stashed away, or the murders—or both.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Helen parked a short distance away. The lights went on in the living room, then the kitchen. The door to the apartment was unlocked. Helen went inside, staying close to the wall to lessen the chance of Rosie hearing a creak in the stairs. From the living room she could see Rosie frantically pulling out kitchen drawers. Helen had been through those same drawers only a couple of nights before.

  Easing forward she leaned against the doorjamb separating the kitchen from the living room. "Looking for anything special?"

  "Oh!" Rosie whipped around to face her. "Helen, you scared me to death."

  Helen pushed herself away from the doorway. "I was worried about you. You didn't say good-bye."