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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "I'm looking forward to reading the rest and hearing what Chris has to say. You mentioned that he works in the lab."

  Jennie pushed down the blinker signal and turned onto Marine Drive. "He's learning the business, so he's into a lot of different things. Mostly he works in the product development lab." She paused for a moment. "Gram, Chris is a really nice guy and everything, but I get the feeling he's hiding something. Like maybe he knows more than he's letting on."

  "What makes you think that?" Rolling down her window, Helen gazed longingly at the colorful sails as boaters and windsurfers skimmed over the water. When JB came home maybe they could take his boat out… their boat. She half dreamed and half listened as the cool wind coming off the river caressed her face.

  "It's a feeling I get when I talk to him." Jennie slowed and turned into the parking lot. The restaurant overlooked the Columbia River. Helen recognized Chris immediately. He moved away from the silver convertible he'd been leaning against and walked toward them. Chris Chang had the attractive Asian features of his grandmother, dark hair and almond eyes, and the height of his Caucasian grandfather.

  "Hi, Jennie. How's it going?"

  "Great."

  His smiling gaze swept from Jennie to Helen as he helped her out of the car. "You must be Mrs. Bradley. I'm glad to finally meet you. My grandmother told me about you."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, before she…" The words seem to catch in his throat. "She had told me of her intention to call you."

  "Then you knew."

  "About her murder theory? Yes." He glanced around as though he suspected someone might be watching. "Let's talk inside. I reserved a window table."

  "Chris," Helen began after they'd been seated, "if you suspect your grandparents may have been murdered, why haven't you talked to the police?"

  "I didn't say I believed Grandma. I only said that I knew of her suspicions. As I told Jennie, I'm not certain what to believe. I go back and forth, primarily because she had begun to accuse Uncle Paul and my mother of killing him. I know they would never do such a thing. My parents and Uncle Paul say Grandmother was confused because of the Alzheimer's."

  "Do you agree?"

  His hesitation came in a deep sigh. "Mrs. Bradley, this is very difficult for me. Why don't we order, then I will explain why I wanted to meet you."

  Helen watched Chris as he ducked his head to peruse the menu, then turned her attention to the luncheon specials. "Everything looks wonderful," she said absently, "but since they specialize in seafood, I think I'll have a salad and the mango glazed grilled salmon."

  Chris opted for steak and Jennie for a crab Louis. After they'd ordered, Helen sipped at her water while she waited for Chris to continue.

  "It is all very confusing for me," he said finally. "While I feel my family is innocent of any wrongdoing, Grandma Irene may have been right about the disk and the burglary. You see, Grandfather always recorded his latest experiments on the computer and kept his disk with him so he could work at the lab and in his office at the house. Someone may have stolen his files on the new drug he had formulated to slow down or reverse senile dementia."

  "That's not much of a motive." Helen pulled a warm slice of sourdough from the basket Jennie passed her, then reached for the butter. "Why would anyone want to stop that kind of progress?"

  "Perhaps not to stop it, only to delay or perhaps to claim it for themselves. It was never made public, and the disk on which Grandfather kept his notes is missing. Which means we have no way of going on with his project. Grandma told me just before she met with you that she'd found the disk. She claimed it not only contained the information on his latest experiments, but also proof that someone murdered him."

  "Only she was conveniently robbed and shot before she could show it to anyone." Helen leaned back when the waitress brought their drinks.

  "Yes." Chris leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "If Grandfather was right and actually did have a cure for Alzheimer's, that disk could be worth millions."

  "And you think that's a possibility."

  "More than that. My grandmother was proof that it worked."

  "He experimented on her?"

  "Normally he wouldn't. We never use humans unless the treatment is approved by the government. Grandmother insisted he test the product on her."

  "Chris and I have a theory." Jennie set down her drink. "It's possible that when Dr. Kincaid had his heart attack, someone who worked in the lab took the disk, planning to sell it to another drug company. Irene could have found out who it was and somehow gotten the disk back. Then whoever it was shot her before she could show it to you."

  "It doesn't seem likely she'd be able to do that," Helen said, "but she may have found another copy. It seems to me that with such important records, your grandfather would have had a backup."

  They suspended conversation while the waitress delivered their orders. When she'd gone, Helen continued. "Chris, did you ever actually see the disk?"

  "No. Grandma had it hidden in a safe place. She planned to give it to you when she hired you to investigate." Chris sawed off a piece of his charred steak and paused to chew it. "My grandmother wanted to hire you. I would like to hire you as well."

  "I'd like to help, Chris, but…"

  "I have money."

  "It isn't that. I don't know where Irene got the idea I am a private investigator. I'm not."

  Chris frowned. "Grandma seemed to think you were. She showed me a couple of articles in the newspaper about how you helped the police solve a murder. I thought…”

  "It's kind of a hobby, isn't it, Gram?" Jennie waved an empty fork in Chris's direction. "She used to be a homicide detective."

  "True. But it's not exactly a hobby either. Having been a police officer, I try to stay abreast of crimes committed in the area. It usually goes no further than looking at the evidence and trying to determine who's guilty. From time to time, however, I've actually cracked a case."

  "Do you think you could work on this one, Mrs. Bradley? Like I said before, I don't know for sure if anyone was murdered. Grandfather may have hidden his disk, and we have yet to find it. And Grandma might have been confused. But I owe it to them to find out for sure."

  "Of course she will," Jennie intervened. "And I'll help her."

  "You'll do no such thing, young lady." Helen tossed her a stern look. "Chris, I want very much to discover whether or not your grandmother's claims were true. I've already decided to get involved. I plan to check myself into Edgewood Manor. However, I don't expect any payment."

  Chris's eyes flashed to high beam. "So you'll do it?"

  "I can't promise results. There's still the possibility Irene may have been the victim of a senseless random act. But yes, I'll do what I can. I'll come to the funeral tomorrow and hopefully meet some of the family and people who worked with your grandfather."

  "That's perfect." Jennie speared a chunk of lettuce. "We can go to the reception afterward as Chris's guests."

  "We?" Helen asked.

  Chris looked from one to the other. "Well... I asked Jennie to come. I hope you don't mind."

  Helen shook her head. "No, I guess not."

  They finished eating and Helen paid the bill. On the way out to the car, she asked one of her many questions. "Chris, you said Irene told you about the disk and her suspicions that someone had murdered your grandfather. How many others knew about her allegations?"

  "Almost everyone who works at Edgewood. She started asking the nurses at the manor all kinds of questions, and one day she came into the lab to talk to Uncle Paul. Turned into a huge fight. He kept trying to calm her down. She came storming out of his office yelling, 'Someone here murdered my husband, and I'm going to find out who.' Uncle Paul sat everyone down and explained that she had Alzheimer's disease and that's why she was acting so strange."

  "And what about her intentions to hire me? Any idea who may have known about our meeting?"

  Chris shrugged. "Could have been anyone. She told
me a couple of times that someone was following her and tapping her phone lines. I never noticed anyone."

  After promising to pick up Jennie for the funeral, Chris vaulted into his convertible and sped away.

  During the drive home Helen chatted with Jennie, trying not to think about what lay ahead. The prospect of going to Edgewood Manor haunted her. If Irene was killed because she knew too much, if Andrew really had been murdered, what would she be facing?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Irene must have had a lot of friends," Helen remarked as Sammi parked her car near St. Mark's Episcopal Church after driving through a full parking lot.

  "I doubt that. She wasn't what you'd call friendly. Most of these people are probably business associates, or curious acquaintances. That's why you and I are here, isn't it?"

  "In part, I suppose." Helen grasped the door handle and pushed it open. "But on the other hand, her death truly saddens me. I felt drawn to her. I think if she'd lived we could have been friends."

  Sammi tossed her a skeptical look. "Don't be too sure."

  They left the car and began walking the block and a halfback to the church. "That seems an odd thing to say. How well did you know her?"

  Sammi frowned. "It's funny. If people were honest about it, they would have to admit that what we call friendship is often nothing more than a devious way of getting something we want. Like with the Kincaids. After John died, I stayed on friendly terms with them, not because I particularly liked being with them, but because Andrew and Paul had connections. They helped me land the medical examiner's job." Sammi shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't answer your question, did I?"

  "No, but you've succeeded in making me feel guilty." Helen frowned. "I hope you don't think I'm using you by asking about Irene. Here we finally meet after all these years and I'm groveling for favors."

  "Oh, I didn't mean to imply that. I don't feel at all used. I was just confessing my relationship with the Kincaids. I thought Irene and I were close, but I really know so little about her. Doing the autopsy made me realize I had no real bond with her. Otherwise I would have turned it over to someone else. She was basically just another body." Sammi gave Helen a contrite look. "That sounded terrible, didn't it?"

  "I suppose you harden yourself to it after a while."

  "In my line of work we have to develop some sort of emotional shield or we'll never last. It's not that I'm callous or indifferent. Some of these cases really get to me, especially when child abuse is involved. But usually when I examine older adults, well, death is part of the life cycle and you learn to accept it."

  "I suppose." Knowing what an autopsy required, Helen shuddered. "I can't imagine myself so closely examining anyone's dead body, let alone someone I knew." Even as she spoke she had to acknowledge that wasn’t entirely true. She’d examined dozens of bodies, just not to the extent that a medical examiner would.

  Sammi chewed her lower lip. "I do what I have to do. You of all people should know that."

  "That's true enough. So what can you tell me about Irene?"

  "As I was saying earlier, having performed the autopsy, I know all the physical details, but I didn't know that much about her personal life. Irene was beautiful and lonely, I think. Isolated. Everyone around her lived for science, always experimenting with a new drug or a new cure. She was a homemaker who was devoted to her husband and his work, and the family. She doted on Chris, her grandson." Sammi paused as they ascended the church steps. "That's him now. With the cute dark-haired girl. Must be a new girlfriend. I don't remember seeing her before."

  Helen glanced at the couple heading into the sanctuary, admiring the tan young woman wearing a white sundress. "She is darling, isn't she?" Helen's lips twitched in an effort to repress a chuckle. "I'll introduce you after the service."

  "You've met her?"

  "Mm. Sixteen years ago in a birthing room at Good Samaritan. We've been best friends ever since. That's my granddaughter, Jennie McGrady."

  "I should have known. Jason's daughter. She takes after you, but then so do your twins."

  Helen warmed to the compliment. "Sounds like the service is starting. We'd better go in." One of several ushers greeted them and handed them each a bulletin as they entered the sanctuary. On the front was a picture of Christ as the Good Shepherd. Inside were brief program notes and a couple of paragraphs entitled "Remembrance." After being seated in a back pew Helen scanned the epitaph. It contained little more information than Sammi's initial assessment and the obituary.

  Helen closed her eyes as the organist played one of her favorite hymns, "Have Thine Own Way." Irene's family would be sitting up front where Chris had escorted Jennie. She'd hoped to observe them herself, but with so many people attending the service, Helen doubted she'd have a chance to see them, much less talk with them until after the service. Perhaps having Jennie involved wasn't such a bad idea. The teenager had exceptional instincts.

  After the hymn the priest stepped up to a pulpit. He opened with a prayer, then reminded them why they'd come. He called Irene's death "a random act of violence." Violent? Yes. Random? Helen had her doubts.

  After the memorial service Helen and Sammi spoke briefly with Jennie and Chris.

  "It's good to see you again, Chris," Sammi said. "Sorry it is under such unhappy circumstances."

  Chris nodded. "I'm glad you could make it." He cleared his throat and reached out to grasp Jennie's hand.

  Helen sensed a difference in him from the day before. More sullen and less confident. She attributed his change to the funeral.

  "You really went to the police academy with Gram?" Obviously not used to wearing dresses and heels, Jennie slipped off one of her white pumps and rubbed the bare foot against her leg, looking a bit like a stork.

  "Sure did," Sammi responded. "Your grandmother tells me you plan to go into law enforcement as well."

  "Law school first, then I might become a detective. I haven't really decided yet." Jennie eyed Sammi with curiosity and respect. "Are you a police officer?"

  "Not anymore. I'm a doctor now."

  "Oh." Jennie sounded disappointed.

  "We should go." Chris pulled Jennie toward him and she hurriedly slipped her shoe back on. "Ah... about this afternoon, Mrs. Bradley," he went on, "I told my parents you'd be coming. They're anxious to meet you." His gaze dropped to the ground, then back to Sammi. "Are you coming too, Dr. Fergeson? If you aren't, Jennie and I could give Mrs. Bradley a ride."

  "Thank you for asking, but I'll be there."

  "It was nice meeting you, Dr. Fergeson." Jennie turned around to wave.

  Walking to the car, Helen puzzled over Chris's response to Sammi. She'd picked up subtle animosity in his tone. Had he not wanted Sammi to come? More than likely he'd simply wanted an opportunity to talk with her alone. Helen dismissed the incident, promising herself she'd ask him about it later.

  As they merged with the processional to Edgewood, where family and friends would be gathering, Helen considered how best to approach Chris's parents and others connected with Irene and Andrew Kincaid. Though she had a lot of questions, Helen felt the best way to get answers was to listen and observe. She didn't want to put the family off by sounding too much like an investigator.

  "You're awfully quiet," Sammi said. "What are you thinking about?"

  "Irene's death and how I'm going to find out what really happened."

  Sammi sighed audibly. "Although I can't be a hundred percent certain, the evidence I've found suggests that Irene's death was preventable. The gunshot penetrated her lung and lodged against a rib. The surgeon at Emmanuel did a great repair job, and if everything had gone well, she should have survived."

  "But it didn't go well."

  "No. Somehow bacteria was introduced to the wound, possibly in the ER or by a nurse who didn't wash before changing the dressing. My original cause of death still stands. She succumbed to pneumonia and to the septicemia brought on by wound contamination and septicemia."

  "And you didn't fin
d anything else?"

  "Nothing that would have caused her death. Paul was right about her having Alzheimer's disease. I found evidence of that in her brain. She was on several medications. Septral for hypertension, estrogen, and a rather wide assortment of vitamins and herbs. Irene was a guinea pig of sorts and was using a number of anti-oxidants and face creams, but nothing that I'd consider harmful, and certainly nothing that contributed to her death."

  "What about the change in her appearance? How could she have aged so drastically in such a short time?"

  "After we talked Saturday night I headed back to the lab to more carefully examine her skin. I found several spots on her face and hands that still had the residue of a waxy substance. Nontoxic," Sammi added with emphasis.

  "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely. I called Paul and he told me it was a special skin cream. Mai Lin, Irene's daughter, and her team developed it a couple years ago. It's called Renavare. They're very excited about it. If the experiments continue to produce the positive results they've seen so far, they expect it to be released to the public within a couple of months."

  "So Irene was using this Renavare?"

  "That's what gave her skin its youthful appearance. For years scientists have been working to develop products that reduce the signs of aging. Renavare works somewhat like a mask. You put it on in the morning as a foundation and wash it off at night. The effects are unbelievable. Wrinkles literally disappear."

  "You're sure it's safe?"

  "As far as I can tell. I drove out to Edgewood yesterday to talk to Mai about it, and while she wouldn't disclose the exact formula, she provided me with an ingredient list and showed me the results of their experiments. The before and after shots of Irene were just as you described, only I saw them in reverse. She'd gone from looking like a little old lady to looking almost like a young model with one application."

  Helen shook her head in disbelief. "You sound like a sales rep."