"I have a headache. I was looking for some aspirin."
"I don't think so. At dinner, when we were talking about Alex's money, you remembered something, didn't you?"
Rosie looked away. "He, Alex, came to see me Sunday night. He was scared and said if anything happened to him, I should give the police his key." She backed against the counter. "I put it in this drawer, but I can't find it."
"What did it look like?"
"Just a key. Silver, kind of a V shape on the end where you hold it. There was a tag on it with a number. Fifteen, I think. Or maybe twenty-five."
Helen frowned. "It was there Monday night. I saw it."
"Monday? Oh, right, when you fed my cats."
Helen rummaged through the drawer herself. "It's gone. Could Alex have come back here to get it when he got out of jail?"
"He might have." Rosie sighed. "That must be it."
"Next question. Why didn't you tell us at the table? Why sneak around about it?"
"I wanted to be sure."
'You wanted the money."
"Well, maybe some of it."
"Rosie. . .."
"Stop!" She raised her hands. "I know it was wrong to even think it. It's just that when you started talking about storage buildings, I remembered the key and wanted to see for myself. Who knows? Maybe he left a letter or something telling us who he really is."
"Maybe he did. Could you have put the key somewhere else? The bedroom, maybe. Or the utility room."
"I don't think so, but it wouldn't hurt to look. As forgetful as I am these days, it could be anywhere. Of course, one of the cats could have found it, the way they bat things around." Rosie dropped to her knees and looked under the table.
"While you're doing that," Helen said, "I'll check the utility—
Before she could get the rest of her sentence out, the utility room door flew open, catching Helen in a full body slam.
A masked figure in black shoved past her, pushed Rosie aside, and raced down the stairs and out the. Helen saw stars. Hundreds of them. She staggered after the intruder, then dropped to the floor when she nearly blacked out. Blood spurted from her battered nose.
She stumbled back to the kitchen counter and grabbed a towel to press against her face. At least now she had a pretty good idea of what had happened to the key.
Chapter Twenty Nine
I can't believe we let him get away." Rosie gunned the motor and pulled out onto the main highway. "I was so shocked, all I could do was sit there."
Helen held her nose with one hand and pressed against the dash with the other. "I'm the one who should have done something. All that training and I couldn't even get my hand up in time to stop the door."
"Do you have any idea who it was?" Rosie peered through the windshield and side windows, looking for their intruder.
"No. I saw the eyes. Something familiar about them. That's about it." There had been an odd scent as well. A woman's perfume.
"We were this close." Rosie held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.
Helen tossed the blood-soaked tissue aside and grabbed another one from the box on her lap. She looked a mess but hadn't wanted to take the time to clean up. Since the key was gone, they hoped the culprit would head straight for the storage unit. They had no idea which ones, but Rosie remembered seeing some just off the main highway not far from where Alex lived. It was their best shot.
When they reached the storage units, Rosie turned into the brightly lit area.
"Cut the lights," Helen ordered.
"Right."
The storage units had been built between the main highway and a steep hill. The doors to all the units faced south and were set in four long rows. The streetlights lit up the units close to the road. Those near the hill were shadowed.
"I don't see any cars." Helen gripped the door handle. "Let's park out here by the road. I'll walk the rest of the way in."
"What do you mean, you?" Rosie braked and turned off the ignition. "I'm going with you."
"It isn't safe." Helen drew the tissue away from her nose. There were only a few red smudges. She stuffed some clean tissues in her pocket and opened the door. "Stay here. If I don't come back in fifteen minutes, you'll need to call for help."
Helen didn't hear Rosie's reply. She was already out and moving past the second row of units. Number fifteen was in the middle of the row. When she neared the next row, she crouched down and peered around the corner.
"Doesn't look like anyone has been here."
Helen's heart nearly jumped to her throat. She straightened and spun around in one smooth motion, clipping Rosie in the chin.
"Ouch!"
She grabbed Rosie's shoulders, pinning her against the shed. "I told you to stay in the car.”
"I'm sorry. I thought I could help."
Helen shook her head and stepped back. "Well, we're either too early or too late." She glanced at the hillside on her left and the scrub brush alongside the single-lane road that ran adjacent to the units.
"Do you think we have the right one?"
Helen stuffed her hands into her pockets. "I don't know." She turned and began backtracking. "Let's go back to the car and do what we should've done in the first place."
'What's that?"
"Call Joe."
They began the trek back to the car and were rounding the first building when Helen noticed headlights bouncing against the hilly backdrop. "Wait." Helen put out her arm to stop Rosie. The lights kept coming. Helen pulled Rosie into the bushes. Staying down, they watched the car make a left turn not more than twenty yards from where they were crouched. It was a dark car. Helen couldn't tell the make, only that she'd seen it at the Cranes' house on Monday.
They couldn't see the driver either, but Helen didn't need to. The pieces started coming together as her imagination constructed a face to match the eyes. The taillights turned down the third row.
Helen pushed Rosie forward. "Go to the car. Call the sheriff’s office. Tell them to have Joe meet us here."
"But—"
"Hurry! Unless I miss my guess, the person driving that car is our killer. And she just made her first major mistake."
"She?"
"I think so."
"Who?"
"I'll tell you when I know for sure. Now go."
Rosie hurried toward the car, while Helen crept along the side of the buildings. The Lincoln was parked in front of unit twenty-five. The driver stepped out of the car and glanced around and then, with panther-like movements, crept over to the door and inserted a key.
Helen jogged across to the next row of units. Once she'd reached the safety of the shadows, she hunkered down and began inching her way forward. She heard the door open, then waited a few seconds before rounding the corner. Helen wished now she were wearing dark s so she'd blend into the shadows. But she hadn't left the house with the idea of prowling. The door closed as Helen approached. Did she dare risk opening it and confronting the killer?
Not a good idea.
She could, however, lie in wait for the thief to come out. Helen didn't much like being out in the open, so she went around to the other side of the car. Their mystery person undoubtedly had a gun, which he or she had used to kill Alex. While she waited, Helen tried to piece everything together in her mind. She suspected Alex had been killed because he knew too much. Perhaps Chuck had met his fate for the same reason.
Ethan had stayed in the restaurant to pay his bill. He'd come out and didn't have his keys, because he had the wrong jacket, so he'd called a tow truck. Only when the tow-truck operator showed up, Ethan and his car were gone. Someone Ethan knew had come by, and for some reason they'd walked on the beach. Who? Helen thought she might know the answer to that one. Who else did a man walk on the beach with but his girlfriend, wife, or daughter? But which one?
Eleanor had been in church. Nancy had been home. Of course, either of them might have been lying. Had Eleanor left the church early enough on Sunday night to get to the restaurant
around eight? Had Ethan seen her and hailed her down? Or had she known about his meeting with Alex? Had Eleanor been planning to kill him all along? If so, how had she gotten Rosie's dagger?
Helen noticed a brown briefcase lying on the backseat. Alex's? Unable to resist a quick look, she opened the car door and slipped inside, pulling the door closed to shut off the dome light.
She immediately recognized the scent permeating the car as the same one she'd smelled in Rosie's apartment. Eleanor's Calix perfume. The kind she bought at Nordstrom's in Portland.
Another piece of the puzzle slipped into place as Helen remembered her conversation with Eleanor the night Rosie decided to become a pistol-packing mama. Eleanor, of course, hadn't known anything about the shooting. But she did know about Alex. She had the birth certificate.
Ethan hadn't gone back home at all after he'd stopped by Rosie's Thursday night. That was the night Rosie gave him the birth certificate and letter from Alex. The envelope had come from her store, because Alex had asked her to give it to him prior to their meeting.
Eleanor couldn't have found the letter in his drawer. She'd taken it from his car or off his body. She had seen him Sunday night and she'd killed him.
Helen snapped open the briefcase and shuffled hurriedly through the papers. So that was it, Helen mused. Eleanor Crane had gone into partnership with Chuck Daniels. Daniels would build the Riverside development, while she supplied the bulk of the money.
The door to the storage unit slid open. Helen dove to the floor behind the driver's seat, closing the briefcase as she went down.
Seconds later the driver's-side door opened. The back of the seat brushed her shoulder as Eleanor got in, threw a box on the passenger seat, and started the car.
"Great." Eleanor muttered a few choice words and gave the car much more gas than was necessary. The car lunged forward.
Helen raised her head in time to see the headlights aimed straight at Rosie. Eleanor then saw Helen in her rearview mirror and screamed.
Helen shot forward and grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it to the right and praying that Rosie had gotten out of the
way.
The car careened into the last storage unit. Helen felt herself being thrown forward, then back. The last thing she heard as she lost consciousness was the sheriff’s blessed sirens.
Chapter Thirty
Helen came to as the paramedics were pulling her from the wreckage. "Eleanor. Is she. . .?"
"She's alive." Joe's voice filtered through the commotion.
"Joe, she killed Ethan." Helen winced when she touched her nose. "She was going to run Rosie down. I had to stop her."
"So Rosie says. Look, don't talk right now. I'll get a statement from you later." He grimaced. "You'd better rest. You don't look so good."
"Thanks a lot."
"Where is she?" J.B. bulldozed his way to her side. "Helen, what happened?"
Helen moaned. Nothing more would come out.
J.B. followed her into the ambulance. "I'll stay with her, Joe. See that my car gets to the hospital, will you, lad?" He climbed inside and held her hand, refusing to leave her side until the next day when he took her home. She'd been discharged from the hospital with minor injuries. Minor! She supposed that was the case, yet she felt majorly damaged. Her face felt as if she'd spent eight hours in the ring with a pro boxer.
Once at home, Helen settled on the couch and asked J.B. to make them some tea, which he was doing when the doorbell rang.
"Joe," Helen heard J.B. say. "Come on in."
Joe lumbered in and sank into the easy chair. He looked at Helen and winced. "How are you doing?"
"Better than I look." She tried to smile but didn't have the energy to complete it. Helen set her ice bag on the coffee table, then pushed herself up and fluffed her pillows so she could get a better look at him. "Did you find the briefcase and whatever Eleanor took out of the storage unit?"
"Sure did. Turns out Alex didn't have all that much cash in there. Eleanor came out with about fifty thousand dollars, a couple checkbooks, and some kind of journal. Rosie was right about the guy on that count, he did have a checkbook."
J.B. had gone back to the kitchen and now returned with two mugs. "Brought you a cup as well, Joe. Figured you could use it."
"Thanks. Been up all night. I was just heading home and thought I'd better stop and fill you in on what's been going on." Joe reached for the steaming cup and set it on the end table. "Turns out our con man lived in Des Moines. Name's Derek Matthews. He was adopted as a baby and a few years ago found his birth mother."
Helen eyed him skeptically. Or as skeptically as she could with a bump the size of a plum between her eyes and a nose swollen to twice its normal size. Her face was one huge Technicolor bruise.
"This was his real birth mother," Joe assured them. "The police there got some prints out of his room and they match. His adoptive parents confirm it."
Helen brought the steaming cup to her lips, then set it back on the table to cool.
"How did you find out so quickly?" J.B. asked.
"Got in contact with the bank in Des Moines. They had two addresses, his birth mother's and his adoptive parents'." Joe rubbed his head and sighed. "His birth mother had no idea what he was doing to bring in all that money. All she knew was that her son was taking care of her, as well as his adoptive parents. Seems they were all in assisted-living facilities. He was the only one left to take care of them. With all the medical bills, I guess I can understand why he did what he did. He'd already had some experience with that sort of thing. Not that it's right."
"What's going to happen to them?" asked Helen. "Now that he's dead."
Joe shrugged. "I have no idea."
Helen shook her head. "How sad. With as much effort as Alex—I mean, Derek expended, you'd think he could have come up with an honest way to make a living."
Images from the night before flooded her mind. "What's happening with the murder investigation? I assume you've arrested Eleanor."
"We have. Might have figured it all out sooner if I'd checked things out at the church myself. Hard to say. Deputy Jones verified that Eleanor had been there all right, but neglected to determine when she'd left. Might not have picked up on it anyway. Eleanor left early. Claimed she had a headache and was going home."
"Only she didn't go home."
"She had it planned all along, then." J.B. glanced at Helen. "Are you in need of another pain pill? It's been four hours."
Helen nodded and J.B. headed for the kitchen again. "I finally figured that out," Helen said. "The problem I'm still having is how she got Rosie's letter opener. Unless she broke into the store."
"She didn't," said Joe. "She knew Ethan was seeing Rosie. Ethan had a key to Rosie's place. All she had to do was let herself in and look for a unique weapon. One that would tie Rosie to the murder."
"She certainly found that. Has Eleanor said anything?"
"Didn't need to. Jordan . . . er. . . Matthews wrote it all out for us."
J.B. returned with Helen's pills and a glass of water. When she'd downed them, she urged Joe to go on.
"Sunday night, Matthews came back to the restaurant to give Ethan his keys. Only, Ethan wasn't there. He was already dead. Matthews then saw Eleanor hurrying back from the beach with blood all over her hands and jacket. He wasn't sure what to do. So far she hadn't seen him. About that time, Chuck drove into the parking lot and started talking to her. He wanted to know what she'd done. He guessed right away that she'd killed Ethan. He told her nothing was worth killing a man for. Eleanor told Chuck she had to kill him to protect their interests. She'd done it for both of them, and he was in it as deeply as she was. Told Chuck if he didn't cooperate, she'd tell the police that he'd killed Ethan. Eleanor must have convinced him, as she talked him into driving Ethan's car up to the river to look for a place they could dump it. She followed him. According to Matthews' account, he was at her place, waiting for her to get back."
"So we really don't know w
hat happened up there on the river," Helen mused.
"Nope. We have a number of blanks to fill in. Figure we'll get most of it when she gives us her formal statement this afternoon. Right now I'm not too worried about how she did it."
"So rather than going to the police with what he knew, Matthews resorted to blackmail." Helen leaned back against the pillows, looking at Joe through eyes she could barely keep open.
"Right. Near as we can tell, he went out to her place and waited for her to come back."
"At the house? You'd think Nancy would have noticed."
"Maybe she did. Who knows? Like I said before, Nancy's in her own world. She couldn't tell me when her mother got home that night. Couldn't say for sure she'd even gone to church. But Melissa told us Eleanor hadn't come back until around eleven. That would've given Alex plenty of time to talk to her. Probably waited outside the gate. He wouldn't have had the code to get in."
"Looks like he went a bit too far," J.B. commented. "Got a little too greedy."
"He picked the wrong woman, that's for sure. The day he got out of jail, he called Eleanor and wanted more money. By the way, it was Eleanor he was protecting, not Rosie. When he contacted her, she arranged to meet him up by Drift Creek. Her idea. That was the last thing he wrote."
"Poor guy," J.B. said. "Didn't realize what great lengths Eleanor would go to, to protect her fortune."
"Joe, have you talked to Eleanor about Matthews' confession?" J.B. asked.
"She'd already seen it. Had it with her in the car. I imagine she took it out of the storage unit or maybe his van." Joe tossed Helen a half smile. "If you hadn't been there to stop her, she might have gotten away with it."
"I hope not." Helen picked up her ice bag and set it back on her face.
"All she told me was that it wasn't fair. She'd worked too hard to have you and Rosie mess things up for her. She was so close."
"Close to what?"
"Her dream of building a shopping center in Bay Village. Ethan wouldn't bend on the Riverside development project. She apparently made one last-ditch effort to change his mind. I don't know all the details, but I think she'd already decided to kill Ethan if he didn't back off."
When Shadows Fall: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 5) Page 22