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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "Come on in, Mrs. Bradley. I'll take you to Adriane's office."

  They walked past a bank of computers set on nondescript desks, which took up most of the central part of what resembled a college chemistry lab. A few technicians glanced up from their monitors as they passed. Microscopes, flasks, beakers, and Bunsen burners were the only items Helen could still name. To their left was a door labeled Library. Chris passed that and headed for a door on the opposite side. This opened into a hallway with several offices each marked with the occupant's name. Adriane's was the farthest down, next to the women's rest room, which Helen decided to use before continuing the tour.

  "Just knock on her door when you're ready," Chris instructed. "I'll let her know you're here."

  When she exited the rest room, Helen noticed another curved staircase similar to the one in the front entry. This one had no rope barring her entry. Curiosity drew her forward, but she stopped at the base of the stairs. Maybe Adriane would take her up during the tour, if not, she'd take Chris up on his offer and come later.

  Moments later she sat in Adriane's office.

  "I apologize for taking so long." Adriane looked up from the computer screen. "Unfortunately I have a deadline on applying for a new grant, and I need to have it ready for our business manager this morning." She finished typing, engaged the printer, and turned to face her guest.

  "No problem. I enjoyed seeing the pharmacy and everything connected with that. Do you apply for many grants?"

  "As many as we can. We need them for research on our various projects." Adriane came around to Helen's side of the desk. "Let me show you what we do around here."

  For the next thirty minutes Helen met various workers in the lab, toured the massive library, and discovered, in part, the money and work that went into creating just one new product.

  Adriane finished the tour back at her office. Although she'd explained some of the details in testing new products, she'd made no move to take Helen upstairs.

  "Oh no, I'm afraid not," Adriane said when Helen asked about it. "You see, we occasionally perform autopsies there and examine cadavers. Not a place to take visitors."

  "Sounds rather gruesome."

  Adriane sent her a patronizing smile. "It can be unsettling for nonmedical people, but certainly not gruesome, or sinister. We're not developing a Frankenstein out of spare body parts or anything like that."

  "I should hope not, but why do you do autopsies here when you have a morgue in the other building?"

  "This one is for special cases."

  "For example?"

  "I can't go into too much detail, but I can assure you that all of our work is above board and entirely legal. For example, we study differences between the brain tissue of persons with Alzheimer's and those whose brains are healthy. We test animals, mostly rats with medications we've developed. Andrew was very close to finding a drug that could significantly slow down the disease process. We're looking into the possibility of transplanting healthy brain tissue in early Alzheimer's patients, while at the same time removing diseased parts of the brain. And of course I've already explained about my own study using the computer chip."

  "Yes." Helen hesitated, trying to decide how to best formulate her question. "I was just wondering if you or any of the other doctors were ever tempted to bypass all the rules and lab animals and take your experiments directly to people. I would imagine there'd be a number of residents who would eagerly volunteer to be guinea pigs. Like Jim Salter, for example."

  Adriane pressed her lips together, looking first at her hands, then letting her gaze drift up to meet Helen's. "As I've said before, Mrs. Bradley, we follow the rules, as difficult as that may be at times. You'd be surprised at the number of people who come to us, begging us to treat them. There are situations where government restrictions are lax. Mai, for instance, can move much more quickly with her herbs and natural products than Paul can with the drug he's developing." Answering the question before Helen could answer it, Adriane added, "Paul's taken over Andrew's project."

  And it was all legal. She'd heard the claim far too often to find it reassuring.

  "Adriane, I assume you've heard about Jack Owens."

  "Y-yes." She folded her arms and frowned. "It's frightening, isn't it?"

  "Frightening?"

  "To think someone so wicked could get a job here and hurt so many people." Adriane shook her head. "I probably shouldn't say this, and I know it may sound cold, but I'm glad he's dead. Whoever hit him did us all a favor."

  "Meaning?"

  "Well, now there won't be a messy trial. Maybe with Jack dead, we can put this nasty stuff behind us and move on."

  "I'm not sure it'll be that easy."

  "Oh?" Adriane looked tired and irritated. "Why not?"

  "Jack killed Ruthie and abused a number of people. He may even have been involved in Irene's death, but I doubt he would kill Andrew. And I know he didn't shoot at me."

  "You still believe Andrew and Irene were murdered?"

  "Yes, I do." Helen held up her hands. "I know, I know. You're going to remind me that Andrew had a heart attack and Irene succumbed to infection."

  "Actually, I wasn't going to say that at all. I've been giving their deaths a lot of thought myself, and I think you're right in pursuing the case." She sighed. "I guess I was just hoping Jack did it all. I'd hate to think there's another killer at Edgewood."

  Back in her room, while Helen debated her next move, a knock sounded on her door.

  "Hi. I hope I'm not disturbing you. I needed to talk." Sammi wore no makeup. She had on jeans and a baggy shirt that looked like she had slept in it.

  Helen backed up to let her in. "You're definitely not disturbing me. What's wrong?"

  Sammi clasped her hands and walked to the window, stood there a moment, then spun around. "I just did a preliminary autopsy on Jack Owens."

  "And?"

  "Helen, someone deliberately hit him. Officers at the scene found blood on the road at the point of impact, and skid marks indicate acceleration before and after impact. Whoever ran him down stopped the car and dragged him off the road into some bushes."

  "When did it happen?"

  "Near as I can guess the night before last, probably right after he got off work. Looks like someone was waiting for him."

  "No wonder the police couldn't find him. But why kill him? Why not let the police know of his whereabouts?"

  "That's what I've been asking myself." Sammi ran a hand through her already mussed hair. "I keep coming up with the same answer. Jack was scum."

  Sammi's hazel gaze drifted up to meet Helen's. "Jason told me someone tried to kill you last night."

  "Or scare me."

  "It's my fault." Sammi bit into her bottom lip and heaved a shuddering sigh.

  "Sammi, for goodness sake, what are you saying?"

  "I… I've resigned my post as medical examiner. When I leave here I'm going to turn myself in."

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Turn yourself in? But why?" Helen stammered. "Sammi, what are you talking about?"

  "Don't say anything, please. Just let me finish." Sammi grabbed a tissue from a box on the dresser, blew her nose, and went back to the window.

  "I wanted to tell you first, before I talk to the police. I couldn't bear the thought of you finding out from someone else." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Remember I told you that Dr. Kincaid, Andrew, helped me get the position as medical examiner?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, there was a catch." Sammi paused to dab the moisture from her eyes. "I was to also serve as their pathologist and perform certain autopsies on their residents here at Edgewood with one of their physicians present. Since they are a research facility, they needed to study and report findings on any specialized treatment the residents were undergoing at the time of their deaths. They never asked me to actually falsify reports on the cause of death, I was simply expected to keep certain facts confidential."

  "What facts? I'm not sure wh
at you mean. How could you not falsify your reports if you weren't reporting everything you saw?"

  Sammi frowned. "I guess I didn't see that as a problem. The main concern they had was keeping their formulas a secret. They didn't want certain ingredients used in their products mentioned in a public report." Sammi turned around and met Helen's questioning gaze. "Yes, they paid me very well, and with college tuition and all, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I didn't really think I was doing anything wrong. Andrew had assured me that any experimentation was FDA approved. I never found any indication that what they were doing was dangerous or that it contributed to the cause of death. I trusted Andrew and Paul, but now…"

  Helen tipped her head to one side. "What made you decide to confess?"

  "A guilty conscience. Jack. Knowing there really is a murderer out here besides him. And the explosion. I'm afraid someone here at Edgewood sees me as a threat. You see, there was one experiment I questioned and threatened to make public. I found a tiny device implanted in the base of Irene's skull, just under the skin."

  "The computer chip. Adriane told me about it, but she assured me it wasn't being used on humans."

  "It shouldn't have been. I confronted Paul. He said Irene had begged Andrew to let Adriane implant one in her. This was before Andrew's death. It had been so successful in laboratory animals, Andrew finally agreed. They all knew about it. Paul offered me a substantial bonus for my silence. He showed me the results of the study. Irene's memory had improved dramatically. I could find no link between the implant and her death, so I agreed to keep quiet."

  "What about Andrew's death?"

  "Like I said before, he died of a heart attack." Sammi seemed calmer now.

  "Is it possible he could have been given a lethal dose of digitalis?"

  A caustic smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "I take it you've been visiting Mai's herb garden. Since the explosion the thought has gone through my mind a time or two. I don't know. He was taking it for a heart condition. It's possible, but Mai would have had no reason to kill her father."

  "Inheritance?"

  Sammi shook her head. "Mai has all the money she needs. No. If she killed either parent it would be to keep them from suffering, but I couldn't find any evidence of that."

  "What about Mai's husband? What did David Chang have to gain from Andrew's or Irene's deaths?"

  "David? I don't know. Look, Helen, I'm really not into playing 'Means, Motive, and Opportunity' right now. I have an appointment with your son in half an hour."

  Helen followed her to the door. "I don't know what to say. Sorry doesn't seem adequate."

  "Do me a favor and pray for me, will you? I know I don't deserve your friendship, but…"

  "You made a wrong choice, Sammi. That doesn't negate our friendship." Helen held out her arms and Sammi welcomed the embrace. "And I will pray."

  "There's one more thing." Sammi stepped back, pausing in the doorway. "Knowing you, I doubt you'll take my advice, but I strongly suggest you get out of here while you still can."

  Helen shook her head. "Not just yet. Whoever shot at me yesterday is afraid I'm getting too close."

  Sammi nodded. "Like me and Jack. There's something else I should tell you. Jack found out that I was getting paid on the side and was blackmailing me. To be honest, if I'd seen him on that road at night, I'd have been tempted to run him down myself."

  Helen felt sick. "If he was blackmailing you, he may have been blackmailing others."

  "It's entirely possible."

  "Looks as though someone is working awfully hard to cover their tracks."

  Sammi nodded. "Which means we'd both better watch our backs."

  Helen walked with Sammi to her car. She was just going back inside when Paul rushed out, calling for Sammi to wait. Helen stood in the lobby and watched, releasing a long sigh of relief when he finally moved away from the car and Sammi drove away.

  "Mrs. Bradley," Paul said curtly when he came back inside. "I expect Dr. Fergeson told you what she plans to do."

  "Yes. I take it you're not too happy about it."

  "That's putting it mildly. Let's just say I'm disappointed. Edgewood doesn't need this kind of publicity."

  "Edgewood? Publicity?" Helen sputtered. "Someone is killing people around here, and you're worried about your reputation. Are you really so cold blooded?"

  Paul stared at her a moment. A momentary sadness flickered in his blue eyes. "No, Mrs. Bradley. This place is home to a lot of elderly people. We have worked very hard to give them the best care possible in their old age. My father gave his entire life to help these people. I don't want to see it go down the tube. Now, if you don't mind, I have to see what I can do to salvage it."

  He turned and walked out the door before Helen could ask him whether he'd commit murder to save his empire.

  On the way back to her room, Helen did pray, for Sammi and the other residents at Edgewood. She prayed for herself as well, that she might solve this bizarre puzzle and bring the murderer to justice before he or she killed again.

  Several minutes later, Helen plugged in her laptop, settled into the recliner, and pulled up the Kincaid file. The notes she'd made earlier had been erased. In their place was written:

  Because I could not stop for death

  He kindly stopped for me.

  Emily Dickinson

  Helen closed her eyes, then opened them again, hoping what she'd seen hadn't been real. It was. She turned off the computer, got out of the chair, set the laptop on the dresser, and then went to find Thelma. She found her in the day room chatting with Rhett Butler, or whoever the man fancied himself to be at the moment. Helen exchanged greetings with Rhett and several of the other residents before drawing Thelma aside.

  "Did you happen to notice anyone going into my room this morning?"

  "No, I sure didn't. Why do you ask?"

  "Someone used my computer and erased a file." Helen didn't bother to tell her what had been written in its place.

  "One of the residents might have wandered in. Who can tell? We've had a terribly busy morning, three new admissions. Doctors coming and going, ordering tests."

  "It's all right," Helen said matter-of-factly. "It wasn't anything important." Just a death threat.

  Helen went back to her room, determined not to let the note intimidate her. It didn't work. She thought of calling Jason but decided against it. Knowing him, he'd use any means possible to get her out of there, including arrest for obstructing justice. She couldn't let that happen.

  Helen paced back and forth in front of the window for several minutes trying to decide what to do next.

  The murderer was getting careless. Killing Jack had been a stupid act. Of course not many people realized the capability of a forensics team. They'd very likely track down the car and the killer within a few days, maybe even hours.

  "So why not just go home?" Helen asked her reflection in the window.

  Because you can't stop thinking about Irene. For some inexplicable reason, she needed to learn the truth. Helen was more convinced than ever that Irene hadn't been delusional when she'd insisted that someone was trying to kill her.

  At times Helen hated those gut feelings that cropped up and refused to go away, even in the face of reason and evidence suggesting the opposite. But she knew better than to ignore them.

  Someone at Edgewood, not the man who'd stolen Irene's purse that night, had made certain Irene took her secret to the grave.

  She sighed and turned away from the window. Helen doubted it would help, but she needed to talk to Stephanie again. Irene had died on the head nurse's shift, and Helen felt certain the woman knew more than she was telling.

  Unfortunately, Stephanie was out. According to the desk clerk she'd taken a break and would be back soon.

  Needing to clear her head, Helen decided to take a walk. After letting Thelma know where she was going and signing out, Helen hurried outside through the neatly manicured gardens to the path she'd taken the day before
with Daniel. Had it only been a day? With all that had happened, it seemed more like a week. She hurried to the vista, thinking it would be a wonderful spot to meditate and perhaps give her a new perspective, but the bench was occupied.

  "Stephanie?" Helen approached the hunched-over woman in white.

  "Oh." She snapped to attention. "I didn't expect... I was...."

  "Crying. I can see that."

  Stephanie stuffed a crumpled soggy tissue into her pocket and pulled out a fresh one.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  She shook her head. "What's the use? All the talking in the world isn't going to bring him back or change what's happened. I wish I'd never met him."

  "Him?" Helen lowered herself to the seat.

  "Jack." Stephanie paused to blow her nose. "He told me he loved me and we were going to get married. He lost his job as a mechanic and I got pregnant and we needed the money. He asked me to get him a job here. It's my fault he got hired. I… I didn't know about his criminal record. He was just such a sweet man." The last sentence ended with fresh tears.

  Helen could think of a lot of words to call Jack and none of them was sweet.

  Eventually Stephanie's sobs quieted. She lifted her head. "I feel so foolish, Mrs. Bradley. You must think I'm awful, falling in love with a man like him."

  "I heard he could be quite nice when he wanted to be."

  "That's no excuse. I hate him for what he did to me. I have psychiatric training. I should have seen it. He used me. And to think I wanted a man in my life so much, I…" She buried her face in her hands.

  "Did you kill him?"

  She raised her head slowly, a blank look in her eyes. "No. No matter how bad he was, I couldn’t do that."

  Helen patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I had to ask. I want to ask you something else, too. About Irene."

  In one deep breath Stephanie seemed to gather herself back together. She adjusted her glasses and except for her red-rimmed eyes and the blotches on her face, one would never have known how distraught she'd been only seconds before. "What about Irene?"