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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  A crew of doctors and nursing staff responded immediately, as did a rescue unit bearing the name Edgewood Community Fire & Rescue. Two retirement-age men identified as voluntary EMTs pulled rock-climbing paraphernalia out of their rig and within minutes were on the ledge beside Iris.

  "She's alive." The words drifted up to the onlookers as the two men checked Iris for injuries. Within five minutes, the men had her on a stretcher secured with ropes and hooks and gave the signal to haul her up.

  "Take her inside," Adriane Donahue ordered the moment rescue workers hauled Iris up the precipice and onto the lawn. "We'll do what we can here, then send her into Portland if necessary."

  Adriane, looking crisp and professional in her lab coat, had been one of the first doctors to arrive on the scene. David Chang and Paul Kincaid arrived a few minutes later.

  Helen followed the group through the maze of hallways and into the trauma room, which she identified by the block letters on the door. It looked like an emergency unit with two gurneys separated by curtains. Equipment and supplies lined the wall. They transferred Iris to a gurney and went to work. Helen wondered if this was where they'd brought Andrew Kincaid when he'd had his heart attack. If she had any question as to these doctors' competence, it disappeared as she watched them work.

  "There's something…" Iris's arm came up. She clutched Dr. Chang's coat in a bloody grip. "I gotta tell ya…”

  "It's all right, Iris." Dr. Chang gently cradled her hand in his and brushed wispy white bangs from her forehead. "You just rest now. You can tell us all about it later."

  "No, now…"

  Helen didn't hear any more. Lucy noticed she'd been standing there and ushered her outside. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bradley, but you can't be in here. I know you're worried about her, but rules are rules. I'll keep you posted on her progress."

  As Lucy opened the door and slipped back into the trauma room, Helen glanced inside and caught Paul's cool gaze. He abruptly left his patient and joined her in the hallway. "Mrs. Bradley, I see you've decided to come to Edgewood after all."

  His expression softened a bit. "I… I need to apologize for the way I behaved at the funeral. I've been under a tremendous amount of stress lately. As Adriane and Sammi both pointed out to me, I was out of line."

  Helen nodded. "Yes, you were, but I can certainly understand why." She looked past him into the trauma room.

  "You saw what happened to Iris?" he asked.

  "Not all of it. She apparently had been traveling too fast and lost control."

  "So you didn't see anyone push her?"

  "No, did she say that?"

  He pulled the door closed behind him and led her across the hall to an exam room. Once inside he shut the door and turned to her. "Mrs. Bradley, I didn't want you to come here, primarily because I didn't want to bring any more embarrassment upon my family. My stepmother made accusations that were unfounded. Neither she nor my father was murdered. It's ludicrous to even consider that one of our doctors could have been involved in something so evil."

  He leaned against the exam table, crossed his long legs at the ankle, and folded his arms. "But you are right about one thing. There is something odd going on here."

  "So I noticed."

  "I mean besides Iris."

  Helen did too but didn't say so.

  "Adriane and I had a long talk after the funeral. We decided that since you were coming anyway, we'd ask you to discretely look into some of the problems we've been having. A few too many incidents have occurred recently to pass them off as normal."

  "Like Ruthie?"

  "Yes. Like Ruthie and now…" He sighed. "Iris claims someone pushed her. Fortunately, she is a tough old bird. I think she'll pull through. I'd hate to think of these injuries as resulting from anything other than accidents; still, they are cause for concern. And there have been rumors of theft and abuse."

  "What can I do that you can't? Surely you know better than I what's going on."

  "You'd think so, but for some reason no one is talking. They are either unaware of a problem or they are frightened. Of course Iris tends to be rather verbal."

  "And Gladys?"

  Paul nodded.

  "But no one believes them."

  "The others, those who don't have a history of dementia, insist there is no problem."

  "I see. And you think since I'm a resident, they might be more open with me?"

  "Precisely." He straightened and reached for the door handle. "I think it would be best if this stayed between the three of us, Adriane, you, and myself. Although I like to think our staff is above reproach, I can't be sure"

  "I'll let you know if I see anything. In the meantime, I need to get back to my family." Helen ducked under his arm when he opened the door.

  An hour later, Helen waved good-bye to Jason, Susan, and Nick while Jennie headed back inside to finish her shift. The warm feeling of seeing Jason and his family together again dissipated as their cars disappeared around the bend. Helen wrapped the light jacket more tightly around herself and hurried along the path toward the well-lit manor.

  Earlier Lucy had come out to assure them that Iris would be okay. The woman had sustained multiple injuries, cuts, bruises, and a concussion. Not enough, apparently, to warrant transport to a more sophisticated trauma center in Portland.

  The chilly evening wind whipped around Helen. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the image of Iris careening down the steep hill and toward that ledge. The feisty old woman who refused to wear her teeth and popped wheelies as she raced down the hall knew how to handle a wheelchair. It seemed unlikely that she had lost control.

  She was pushed. The words Gladys had spoken during dinner and that Paul had repeated tore through Helen's mind in neon colors. She pulled open the door and stepped inside.

  "There you are." Lucy came toward her, the bounce in her step greatly diminished. "I was just going to ask if you wanted a snack or anything."

  "No, I'm still full from dinner."

  "Lydia, Betty, and Jim are in the day room. They were looking for a fourth to play pinochle."

  "Thanks, but I think I'll go to my room. I'm rather tired."

  "I understand. You've had quite a day."

  "That's an understatement. By the way, have you seen Jennie?"

  "The new aid? She's your granddaughter, isn't she?"

  "Yes."

  "Jennie's going to be tied up for a while. She's in an orientation class. I can probably get her if you need to talk to her."

  "No, no. Don't bother. I'm sure she'll stop by my room before she goes home."

  Once in her room, Helen unpacked the bags Susan had brought. Pulling out the sweats JB had given her brought a smile to her lips. Thankfully they'd been in the wash and she hadn't brought them with her this morning. Some things couldn't be replaced.

  She set the photos, one of her and JB on their honeymoon and a family portrait on the dresser. Helen could almost hear JB's warm baritone reaching out to caress her. She closed her eyes, imagining him in the room with her, holding her in his powerful arms. She longed to be able to talk to him about Irene and Andrew. His analytical mind could sort through the confusion in short order. Maybe.

  Susan had replaced the devotional and Bible that had been lost in the explosion, along with her cosmetics, deodorant, soap, shampoo, and other toiletries.

  The ritual of unpacking and turning Room 134 into her temporary home calmed her. Rational thought replaced chaotic images. She wondered if Tom or Jason had come any closer to finding out who had planted a bomb in Sammi's car and why.

  With the unpacking chores completed, Helen angled the recliner so she could see the door and the view, then scooped up her laptop and settled into the comfortable chair.

  She spent several minutes familiarizing herself with the new computer, glancing through the online manual, then she clicked into the word processing program. Rather than begin a new article, Helen opted to journal the week's events, beginning with Irene's phone call.

 
She was just inputting information about the explosion and wondering about Sammi when the phone rang.

  "Helen? It's me, Sammi."

  "I was just thinking about you."

  "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I meant to call earlier, but I wanted to finish up some reports."

  "I'm so glad you did." Helen saved her file, exited the program, and turned off the machine.

  "I was hoping to get out there tonight, but I'm too exhausted to move."

  "I certainly wasn't expecting you to come out, what with your injury and all. In fact, I'm surprised you're not in the hospital."

  "They let me go home after they took out the glass and stitched me up. I'm fine. At least physically. Emotionally I'm not faring quite so well."

  "It was rather unsettling, wasn't it?"

  Sammi sighed. "I can't stop thinking about it. The explosion. I keep experiencing it over and over. I thought working might help, but…"

  "I know, the images keep intruding."

  "What's worse is knowing one of us was the target." Sammi sighed again. "Most likely me since no one other than my secretary and Paul knew I was picking you up this morning. That's pretty scary. I talked to Jason today. We were trying to come up with a motive."

  "Paul knew?"

  "Yes, but like I told Jason, he has no reason to want either one of us dead."

  "What about the murder case you were supposed to testify at today?"

  "That's the most logical answer. My testimony has been delayed until tomorrow. And the police have assigned an officer to guard me."

  Helen nodded. "I'm glad you're getting some protection."

  Sammi yawned audibly and apologized for doing so. "Tell me about your first day at Edgewood. It's so peaceful out there, I almost wish I could check in myself."

  "Don't be too quick to do that. All is not as it seems." Helen briefly highlighted her experiences so far. "It's been anything but quiet."

  "Nursing home residents can say and do some pretty strange things. Believe me, I know. I spent a lot of time there during the last days of John's illness. If I were you, I wouldn't take Iris's or Gladys's comments too seriously. It sounds as though they are both delusional."

  Score another one for the logical side. Helen smiled. "You may be right, but I'd like to find out for myself. Which reminds me. Gladys's sister Ruthie died recently as a result of falling down some stairs. Did you by any chance do the autopsy?"

  "Yes. Poor thing. She'd fallen down an entire flight of concrete stairs into the basement. The injuries sustained were consistent with an uncontrolled fall."

  "Any explanation as to how that could happen?"

  "The nursing staff seems to think she may have been confused and opened the wrong door. It is usually kept locked, but apparently someone had forgotten to check it. There's no way of knowing who, as most of the staff has access to it."

  "Just out of curiosity, what's in the basement?" Helen asked.

  "A lot, actually. There's a morgue, an autopsy room, a lab, furnace room, archives, sterile supplies, that's about it."

  "So it's not a dreary dark cellar."

  "Heaven's no." Sammi chuckled.

  "Did anyone see Ruthie fall?"

  "Apparently not. There isn't much going on down there after hours, especially in the area where Ruthie fell. Those stairs lead directly to the morgue, and unless there's a death…”

  "How convenient,” Helen mused. “Gladys seems certain that her sister was pushed."

  "Yes, I know, but her story didn't pan out. Ruthie was a sweet non-combative eighty-year-old,” Sammi went on. "She certainly didn't pose a threat to anyone. I spent a lot of time on the case. When I first saw her body, I thought someone may have beaten her up. Paul wanted a full investigation. We ended up ruling it an accidental death."

  "You're certain?"

  "Yes. I think if it had been anywhere but Edgewood, I might have been more insistent about the possibility of abuse. But the police and I questioned all the staff members on duty, plus the other patients. At the time, the only accusations came from Gladys. She's not entirely reliable, and Edgewood has never had an abuse-related death. We didn't have enough evidence to make a case."

  They talked for a few more minutes, then rang off when Sammi's son came home.

  Lucy popped in minutes later to make a routine check. "Hi, Mrs. Bradley," she bubbled. "Thought you'd like to know Iris is doing better. I am so-o-o glad. Underneath that crusty shell, Iris is a real sweet lady. At least I know now that it wasn't my fault. One of the aids saw her undo the brakes and take off her seat belt right after I checked her. He fastened her back in, but I guess she got loose again. You know the rest." Lucy lifted her shoulders in a resigned sigh. "I thought you'd like to know. Um…you were supposed to have a physical therapy session tonight, but with all that happened, I sort of forgot."

  "So did I. Is it too late?"

  "It is for the physical therapist, but the facility is open all night. If you'd like to go down, I can take you in about half an hour. I need to finish tucking in my other patients."

  "That sounds fine."

  Helen went back to her notes, but she felt both stifled and saturated. Too many things to think about. Too many avenues to explore. Since Lucy would be arriving any moment to take her to therapy, Helen put her computer away. After changing into an old pair of sweats and tennis shoes, she grabbed her swimsuit, stuffed it into a plastic bag, and sat down to wait. Lucy didn't show. At ten-forty-five Helen scribbled a quick note so Jennie and Lucy would know where to find her and left. She really didn't need help to do her exercises anyway.

  Most of the doors on either side of the hallway were closed. The fluorescent ceiling lights had been turned off, leaving a soft glow emanating from the night lights that lined the floor. The nurses and aids seemed to have disappeared. Probably giving reports to the next shift. Switching on lights as she went, Helen made her way down the hall and into the wing housing the physical therapy department.

  Being familiar with most of the equipment, Helen straddled the treadmill, turned it on, and set the timer for twenty minutes. Then bracing herself, she stepped onto the moving belt and began to walk at a slow steady pace. When she'd gotten used to the machine she increased the speed.

  As she walked, Helen sifted through the bits and pieces of information she'd managed to glean so far. She'd learned a lot and needed to determine what steps to take. First on the agenda would be to personally interview Gladys and hopefully Iris to determine just how many of the conflicting messages could be blamed on paranoia and senility. She also wanted to speak with her other table mates privately. Perhaps they'd be more willing to talk in a one-on-one situation.

  A movement in the mirror caught her eye.

  "Hi, Gram." Jennie plodded into the room and sank onto the floor cross-legged.

  "Hi, sweetheart. You look exhausted."

  "I am. I can't wait to get home and crawl into bed. Lucy said to tell you she was sorry, but they had a patient die and she couldn't get away."

  "Not Iris . . ."

  "No. Some woman with cancer. They were expecting it, I guess. It's still so sad. I'm glad I wasn't taking care of her."

  "So am I. Did Lucy give you a name?"

  "Mrs. Philips, I think. Lucy said she'd been wanting to go for a long time and finally got her wish."

  "I think a lot of cancer patients feel that way." The possibility of assisted suicide pawed at the periphery of her mind. "Who was her doctor?"

  Jennie shrugged. "I have no idea. You're not thinking somebody killed her too, are you?"

  Helen turned off the treadmill and joined Jennie on the floor. "To be honest, I'm not sure what to think. This is a nursing home. We certainly can't look at every death as suspicious."

  "That's for sure. On the tour today, we went through the morgue. They average two to three deaths a week, more in the winter. Mrs. Phillips had cancer all through her body. That's what the nurse told me. She'd been sick for a long time."

  Wanting to c
hange the subject, Helen asked, "What's the latest on Iris?"

  "Still doing okay." Jennie pulled her long dark braid forward and wound it around her finger. "I wish I could have caught her before… before she went over. One of the guys coming on night shift, um… Jack Owens, says she got what she deserved. Maybe she needed to take a header to teach her a lesson. I didn't think that was a very nice thing to say."

  "No." Helen frowned, remembering the attractive man she'd seen talking to Sammi and Stephanie at the reception following Irene's funeral. "No it wasn't. He isn't assigned to her, is he?"

  "No. They brought in a special trauma nurse to monitor her." Jennie stared into the mirror, her eyes drooping at half-mast.

  "You'd better get on home before you fall asleep."

  "I will. Just wanted to give you a report and leave you with this." She reached into her pocket and dropped a key in her hand.

  "What's this for?"

  "The basement. I figured you might want to snoop around."

  Helen palmed the key, and since she had no pockets, she tucked it into her shoe. "Thank you."

  "No problem. When you go down there, you gotta do it at night. That's when the fewest people are working. Lucy says the night crew mostly sits around talking. It should be a piece of cake. I saw it when I went on the tour this afternoon." Jennie hesitated. "We could go now. That way I could be your lookout."

  "I don't think so. You need to go home."

  Jennie scrambled to her feet. "Okay. Just be careful."

  "You too, and drive safely."

  "I will." Jennie started to leave, then turned back. "Would you like me to stay with you tonight? It'll make the transition easier for you."

  "I'll be fine, Jennie. Stop worrying about me and go home."

  Shortly after Jennie left, the night supervisor showed up.

  "Mrs. Bradley, isn't it? I'm Amy Kahala. How are those exercises coming?" White teeth glistened against bronzed lips as she smiled. The young woman's skin was a soft nut-brown, and her thick wavy hair had been swept back and secured with a pink bow.

  "Almost finished."

  "Good. I'm surprised you're still up." Amy picked up the sling Helen had tossed on a bench.