Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 2)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Helen glanced at Jason, then back to Sammi. "You're the medical examiner?"

  "In the flesh."

  "I still can't believe it," Helen said. "You look great. Different, but great." Sammi's once red hair was now a warm golden blond. Her slender figure had thickened to the pleasant roundness of a Michelangelo Renaissance woman.

  A young girl set glasses and a basket of soft garlic bread sticks on the table, then scurried away. After she'd gone, Helen took a moment to look at the menu, then focused back on her old friend.

  "Tell me about yourself."

  "So much has happened," Sammi said. "It will take weeks to catch up. You realize that will mean a lot of lunches and coffee breaks."

  "Sounds good to me."

  Jason's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of the holder on his belt and greeted the caller. He listened for a few seconds, muttered under his breath, excused himself, and left the table.

  "So where were we?" Sammi unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap. "Tell me about your daughter. Jason and I didn't have much time to talk about family."

  "Kate's doing well. She and her family live here in Portland. They're on vacation right now, but I can't wait for you to see her."

  Sammi's smile faded as her gaze drifted to Helen's sling. "How did you injure your…oh, yes, the shooting. I'd read about it, but like I said earlier, I didn't realize it was you. How are you doing?"

  "Not bad considering. Um, Sammi, are you doing the autopsy on Irene Kincaid?"

  "Yes, why?"

  Helen filled her in on the details. "I can accept her battling an infection and developing pneumonia. What I can't understand is the rapid aging. Sammi, that woman aged a good twenty years in five days. I know it sounds bizarre, but it's almost as if she'd been given something to speed up the aging process."

  Sammi gave her an incredulous look. "It's an interesting premise and a great plot for a Si-Fi novel, but….” After a moment she added, “You're serious about this, aren't you?"

  Helen nodded, feeling rather foolish now that she'd voiced her thoughts. "It makes sense in a twisted sort of way. With her body in such a weakened state, she'd succumb to complications from the infection much sooner." She crossed her legs and sank back against the cushions. "I take it you disagree."

  Sammi's green eyes narrowed into a frown. "I've done my preliminary report. So far I haven't found anything to contradict the diagnosis on her hospital records. Her lungs were full of fluid. Infection is putting it mildly. It's a wonder she lasted as long as she did. I won't have a full report for several days. Off-hand I'd say she developed septicemia, a staph infection, and pneumonia. I'll do a full blood work-up and toxicology screening though. If there's anything suspicious, I'm sure we'll find it."

  "That's all I ask."

  Sammi took a couple of deep swallows from her ice water. She obviously felt uncomfortable talking about Irene, but Helen couldn't let it go just yet.

  "How did the family react to your performing the autopsy?" Helen asked.

  "The daughter was against it, but they know the guidelines. Seeing as she'd been shot initially, we didn't have much choice. I didn't get the impression the family was trying to hide anything." Sammi leaned back against the seat cushions. "But enough shop talk. I'm anxious to hear about you and your family and your career. You're still with the police, I take it. What are you now, a lieutenant?"

  "Actually, I retired a year after Ian died, about ten years ago." Helen wrapped a napkin around her glass to mop up the moisture forming around the outside.

  "Ten years? Then why all the interest in the Kincaid case? Don't tell me. You're a private investigator."

  Helen didn't particularly want to go into detail just yet. Fortunately Jason chose that moment to come back to the table.

  "Something's come up on a case and I have to go." He gave Helen a sheepish look. "I don't know if I can make it back before you finish eating."

  "Don't worry about it, darling," Helen said. "I can always call a cab."

  "You'll do no such thing." Sammi turned to Jason. "I'll be happy to drive her home."

  "Thanks." He eyed the breadsticks, grabbed a couple, then took off, nearly colliding with their waitress in his haste.

  Sammi and Helen ordered, then slipped back into their conversation with Helen deftly keeping the focus on Sammi.

  Their lives held similarities. Sammi had married a police officer, Aaron Dunn, and a few years later he'd been killed by an irate motorist he'd pulled over.

  "Aaron's death really messed me up," Sammi confessed. "I started drinking. And to make a long story short, after a year, I realized I couldn't go on being a cop or an alcoholic. I went into treatment and met John, my second husband."

  "How did you come to be a medical examiner?" Helen broke one of the breadsticks in half before taking a bite.

  "John was a doctor, and since medicine was his life, it became mine. I went to nursing school and ended up in med school. It's perfect for me, really. I'm a pathologist and an investigator all wrapped up in one."

  "So is it as exciting as the television crime shows portray?" Helen asked with a smile.

  Sammi shrugged. "Not really, but I like my work. Makes me feel good when I can come up with evidence that links someone to a crime. I guess the old saying is true. Once a cop always a cop."

  Their salad arrived, then the pasta dinners. Between bites their talk drifted from careers to family. Sammi had waited until after thirty to have children. Sarah, her oldest, was in college, and her youngest, Jonathan, was a junior in high school.

  Though Helen and Sammi were close in age, hearing her friend talk about having a child the same age as her granddaughters made her feel rather old. Her gray hair didn't help, nor did the fact that her arm had started aching and she'd grown weary from the day's activities.

  "Can I get some dessert for you?" The waitress collected their empty plates and waited expectantly.

  "Oh, goodness, I don't know if I can eat another bite." Sammi patted her ample stomach.

  "We're having a special tonight. Key lime pie."

  They decided to share. The pie and a cup of Earl Grey tea revived Helen and brightened her mood. After paying their bills and using the rest room, they made their way through the crowded parking lot. Sammi stopped beside a black Lincoln. Using a device on her key chain, she clicked open the locks and disarmed the alarm.

  "Nice car," Helen murmured as she folded her long frame into the plush leather seat. "Smells new."

  "It is." Sammi drew her seat belt forward and fastened it. "Picked it up this morning. I've been driving around an old clunker and finally decided to put my money into something besides clothes for my kids." Leaning forward, she pushed her key into the ignition, bringing the powerful engine to life. Sammi backed down the parking place and headed toward the freeway. "You're lucky yours are grown, you know. Everything is so expensive these days."

  "Hmm. Actually I do know. I have grandchildren, remember?" Helen adjusted her shoulder strap so it rested lightly across her chest. "I contribute quite a bit to their care. Susan, Jason's wife, well ex-wife at the moment, thinks I spoil them, but I like to help as much as I can."

  Sammi shook her head. "You're too young to have grandchildren." Her wide mouth spread in a teasing grin. "It must make you feel terribly old."

  "Not really. They make me feel alive, needed, loved."

  "If you say so." Sammi chewed on her lower lip, then glanced at Helen. "Tell me more about your involvement in the Kincaid case. I know you suspect Irene may have been murdered, but do you have any proof?"

  "No, I'm hoping you can provide that. All I have right now is questions."

  "What about suspects?"

  "Nothing there either, I'm afraid, just an unsettling feeling about Paul Kincaid taking his stepmother out to Edgewood. And all that talk about anti-aging products."

  "I'm glad we got a chance to talk. I'll know better what to look for. Paul Kincaid has a reputation for being honest as well as brilliant
. Even though she ended up dying, taking his mother to Edgewood made a lot of sense. If anyone could have come up with a cure for her, they could."

  "I understand the doctors there found an antibiotic." Helen said.

  "Yes, according to her records, she'd gotten several doses, but it looks like a case of too little, too late."

  Helen watched her old friend's face grow light and dark from the headlights of oncoming cars. "Sounds as though you know a lot about the Kincaids."

  Sammi shrugged. "Actually, I do. Andrew Kincaid and my husband were friends. When John reached the point where I couldn't care for him at home, he insisted I admit him to Edgewood Manor. Edgewood has a wonderful hospice program."

  "John is ill?"

  "Was. He's dead."

  Chapter Twelve

  It took Helen a few moments to find her voice. "Your husband is dead?"

  Sammi stopped at a red light. "Didn't I tell you?"

  "No." Helen's stomach churned as she mulled over the implications. "I’m so sorry. When?"

  "Two years next month. He had cancer." The light changed and Sammi made a left onto the ramp that would put them on 1-205 northbound.

  "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

  "I don't talk about it much. I suppose I should. My therapist tells me I hold in too much. John and I had ten wonderful years together. I'm still furious with him for leaving me, though. Silly, isn't it?" Sammi reached up to catch her tears. "Being angry after all this time."

  "Not exactly. It's been eleven years since Ian's death, and sometimes I still catch myself asking why." Helen closed her eyes and blinked away her own grief. As she watched the long string of taillights wind their way along the freeway, she thought about a dozen questions she'd like to ask Sammi, but they all seemed too intrusive. "I imagine Irene's death and the connection to Edgewood must be difficult for you."

  "Not really. Even though John died there, Edgewood evokes pleasant memories. They let me stay there with him. We spent hours talking and watching the river. I've never known a more empathetic and supportive staff." Sammi shifted her gaze from the road to Helen and back again. "I have to be honest with you. I'd be very surprised to find anything amiss in Irene's autopsy."

  "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

  "Yes." Sammi sighed. "So, tell me more about this mystery man of yours. He sounds intriguing."

  "Oh, JB is that. As I mentioned before, we've known each other since we were kids. He and Ian were best friends. When Ian and I started dating there was a lot of friction between them. But that soon changed."

  "Let me guess. He was in love with you as well."

  Helen chuckled. "Yes, only I didn't know that until recently. His confession is what finally convinced me to marry him. Do you know he never married?"

  "Waiting for you?" Sammi glanced at Helen and gave her a knowing smile.

  "So he says." She sighed and told Sammi about wanting JB to seek an early retirement.

  "Does that mean you'll be retiring as well? Somehow I can't picture that."

  "No," she mused. "Sammi, I feel like such a fool. I don't really know what happened, but marrying JB seemed to bring back all the old fears I had about losing Ian. For the first few years of our marriage I tried to talk Ian into finding a safer job. One day I realized I'd never be able to change him. That's when I decided to become a police officer."

  "If you can't beat them, join them?"

  "Something like that. I guess I finally realized that Ian's work as a special agent was so much a part of him, he couldn't change. JB's work is a part of who he is as well. I should have learned my lesson, but now I seem to be repeating the same pattern."

  "If it's any consolation, I can empathize. I knew that fear all too well with Aaron. After he died, I vowed I'd never marry another cop. Too dangerous, I told myself. So what happened? My husband, the doctor, dies of cancer."

  "You just never know." Helen paused. "Listen to us go on. Here we've just met after thirty years, and we're talking about death. How did we get onto that?"

  "We're both widows. It was bound to come up."

  "I suppose." They were approaching the turnoff to Susan's house and Helen gave her directions. When Sammi pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, Helen rummaged through her bag for a business card and scribbled Susan's phone number on the back. They exchanged cards and promised to keep in touch.

  "I'll call you if I find anything unusual on Irene's autopsy," Sammi said.

  "Thanks. If you'd like to get together sooner, give me a call. I have very little on my agenda for the next couple of weeks."

  Sammi nodded. "Are you going to Irene's funeral on Monday?"

  "Yes. I'd planned on having Susan or Jennie take me, but if you're going…"

  "Say no more. I'll pick you up at nine-thirty."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely. It'll give us a chance to talk again.

  Helen agreed, then closed the passenger side door and waved as Sammi backed down the drive. She watched the car until the taillights disappeared around the corner. Seeing Sammi again had been wonderful, but having her old friend turn out to be a medical examiner was a mixed blessing.

  As she entered the house, Helen had a spring to her step. It was the best she'd felt since before the shooting.

  An odd crinkling sound awakened her the next morning. Helen opened one eye and found herself staring at a blur of words. The night before, she'd taken to bed a copy of a Journal of the American Medical Association article written by Dr. Andrew Kincaid. The combination of ten-letter words and pain medication had successfully put her to sleep.

  She focused on the small print and tried to remember what the article was about. Something to do with gerontological advances in the treatment of the aged and an upcoming cure for Alzheimer's.

  Though Helen had taken several first aid courses and knew a little about medicine, the article was too technical to glean any useful information. Maybe Sammi would translate. Or perhaps Irene's grandson Chris could enlighten her.

  Helen tossed the covers aside and picked up the scattered pages. She'd hoped to go over the rest of the information Jennie had gathered, but too much of the morning had already slipped by. The family would be leaving for church in an hour.

  Helen did some stretching exercises, showered, and after much deliberation finally settled on a loose white cotton blouse and pants. She selected a silver-and-gold braided belt and a gold chain from her minuscule collection of jewelry.

  "Gram?" Jennie knocked on the door. "Mom said to see if you needed any help."

  "Come in, dear. You're just in time. How about helping me with the latch on this belt?"

  "Sure." Jennie deftly hooked the belt together and adjusted the blouse. Her ponytail swayed to one side as she examined her handiwork. "You look super."

  "Why, thank you." Helen picked up the drab canvas sling, slipped it over her head, and settled her right arm in its cradle. She eyed herself in the mirror and frowned. "Sort of ruins the effect, doesn't it?"

  "Maybe a little." Jennie chuckled and gave her a hug. "Want me to do your hair?"

  "Sure." Helen sat on the chair while her granddaughter brushed through her silver-and-black hair and drew a few strands forward for a partial bang. A quick shot of hair spray and she was done.

  Helen sent Jennie ahead when she'd finished, applied some eye makeup and a touch of blush, then headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Since church started at ten, they were out the door by nine-forty.

  Helen spent most of the service watching Nick draw and practice writing his letters, and thinking about Irene. What she did catch of the sermon seemed to be a direct message from God. She'd heard the words many times before, but this time they held a slightly different connotation. The pastor had based his sermon on Psalm 139:5-10.

  You hem me in, behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me…. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths… e
ven there your hand will guide me.

  Hearing the spoken word gave Helen reassurance on two fronts. Wherever JB's assignment had taken him and for whatever reason, God would be there with him. And the Spirit would guide and accompany her as well, even to Edgewood Manor. There'd be no guarantee of survival for either of them, at least not in the human sense. But they would not be alone.

  After church, Jennie, eager to meet Chris, hustled Helen away from friends and family. The morning clouds had burned off, and it looked as though they were in for a scorcher. Having sat in the late morning sun for over an hour, Jennie's Mustang felt like an oven. They spent the first few minutes of their drive to Salty's cooling off and chatting about Jennie's frustration with her parents.

  "They're both upset 'cause you're moving out to Edgewood," she said.

  "How do you feel about it?"

  "Are you kidding? I'm surprised you didn't go out there right away." Jennie paused to make a left turn. "'Course I guess you couldn't do much with your shoulder being hurt." Without missing a beat, Jennie asked, "Did you get a chance to look through the articles I found for you on Kincaid Laboratories?"

  "Some. I appreciate all the work you did."

  "No problem. I like doing research. Besides, the librarian was a big help. When I told her what I wanted, she gave me a bunch of topics and medical terms to look up."

  "Want to give me a quick rundown?"

  Jennie's dark eyebrows knit together in a frown. "I can try. A lot of it was like reading Greek, especially the medical journals."

  "So I noticed. One of the journal articles put me to sleep."

  "Yeah, but there were some write-ups in The Oregonian and regular magazines. Kincaid Laboratories is known all over the world for the experiments they have been doing. One of the articles said they were close to finding a cure for Alzheimer's. Another one had to do with anti-oxidants." Jennie glanced over at Helen. "None of the articles I read was negative, you know, implying weird experiments or anything. Except… well, I did find one by an animal rights group that criticized their use of animals for experiments, but that was it. Most of them had to do with different drugs and face creams, vitamin therapy, and finding ways to slow down aging and keep older people healthy into their eighties and nineties."