“No thanks. I’m trying to cut back.”
“In that case, I’ll get right to the point. I haven’t discovered anything missing, except my fireplace tools.”
Joe nodded. “I forgot to tell you, the CSI people took them. They found the poker on the rocks about ten feet from the body”
“I see.”
“You had something else to tell me?”
“Yes. I think whoever killed Janelle staged the house to make it look as though someone had broken in.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The place looks a mess, but everything has been placed in an orderly fashion. Nothing is broken. The books, for instance, had been taken out of the bookcase and stacked, not strewn about.”
“Interesting.” Joe said.
“I’m not sure what it means yet, but it’s something to keep in mind.”
Joe nodded. “I have something for you as well. I’ve been looking for information on Janelle and it turns out she doesn’t exist, at least not in any of our data bases. We have no prints on file. There’s no social security number, no driver’s license, nothing. We’re doing a statewide search. I have no idea who this woman is.”
Helen sank onto the couch. “But she’s been watching my house for the last four years. She’s a friend. She’s…”
“So where did she live?” Joe asked. “Did she have a car?”
“I have no idea.” Helen stared out the patio door to the place they’d found Janelle’s body the night before. “I’d like to find out.”
“I thought you’d probably say that.” He handed her a photo. “The medical examiner faxed it to me this morning. I took the liberty of making you a copy. It would save us a lot of time if you were to check with anyone who might have known her. Also, you mentioned that she worked for one of the property management places. Any idea which one?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. I didn’t call any of her references. That wasn’t too smart, but she seemed trustworthy and kind and someone at church recommended her.” Helen rolled her eyes. “I might have a copy of the references she gave me in my file drawer.”
Helen hurried upstairs into the bedroom she used as an office. Like everything else in the house, the room was a disaster. Covers had been stripped off the bed; files pulled out and left on the floor. Her desktop computer was the only thing that hadn’t been moved.
She doubled back to the living room where she’d left Joe pacing. “Sorry, but it’ll take a while to find her file up there.”
“Well, if you learn anything new, let me know.”
“I will. Did the CSI technicians find anything useful?” Crime Scene Investigators worked out of Portland and would probably not have much to report for a few days, but maybe the preliminary investigation had turned up something.
“You know how that goes. Nothing so far. I called Jason earlier to see if he could shake things up a little. He’s the one who told me they couldn’t find any trace of Janelle. Something else that seems a bit strange. There were no discernible prints here. Looks like someone may have wiped everything down and then used gloves to mess things up.”
It was shortly after noon when Joe left. Helen decided she needed a break from cleaning. She also needed food. Unfortunately, her refrigerator was as empty as her stomach. She stashed the photo of Janelle in her purse along with her fully charged cell phone. After slipping into her lightweight jacket, she locked the door and remembered that she still needed to call a locksmith. Something she would do later.
Helen’s mind buzzed with questions about Janelle as she drove into town and turned into the large parking area in front of Rosie’s. Upon entering the book store/coffee shop, she called out to her friend.
“Coming.” Rose called from the kitchen behind the counter. “Just have to take out my last batch of brownies.”
Helen wandered back to the kitchen. “No hurry. It’s just me. Can you close for lunch? I need to eat and we need to talk.”
“Sure.” Rosie eyed her warily as she slid the tray of brownies onto the stove top. “What’s going on?”
“You know our friend, Janelle. The one who was killed in my back yard?”
Rosie frowned. “I know that look. What’s up?”
“Janelle Cooper doesn’t exist. At least not according to the police.”
“That’s crazy. We know her. She…”
“I know. You and I are going to make a list of everything we know about her and everyone she knew. I have a lot of blanks to fill in and I thought maybe we could do it over lunch.”
Rosie went over to the coffee shop’s entrance and turned the open sign over. “There. Officially closed. I’ll make sandwiches. I have bread rising and can’t really leave the shop right now. How about a chicken cranberry cashew salad and some fresh croissants.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Rosie ducked into the kitchen again and came out with two croissants, butter lettuce leaves and a bowl of a delicious looking salad. She set it all on a small round bistro table near the fireplace and disappeared into the kitchen again and then came back with plates, napkins and utensils. “Set these on the table and I’ll get us some coffee. Your usual?”
“Why not? I’m already wired, might as well go big.”
Rosie laughed. “I’ll do half decaf for both of us.”
A few minutes later, Helen spread chicken salad on the buttery croissant and topped it with a couple of lettuce leaves. “This is perfect.”
Once she’d taken a few bites and had a couple sips of her latte, Helen pulled her note pad out of her bag. “Now, talk. What do you remember about Janelle.”
“Her mother is in the nursing home here in town,” Rosie said. “I think her name is Betty. I visited the nursing home last Christmas and brought goodies for all of the residents.”
“I remember that. Is Betty still alive?”
“One way to find out.” Rosie disappeared upstairs for a few minutes and came back down with a phone directory. “Here’s the number. Why don’t you call the facility and ask about her?”
Helen did just that. Yes, Betty Sullivan was still alive, but her daughter hadn’t been in for over a week.
“I have some bad news, I’m afraid,” Helen told the woman from the facility, “Janelle Cooper has died.”
“Oh, no, that’s too bad. I’ll let her mother know. I don’t know that telling her will do much good though. She has Alzheimer’s, you know.”
Helen didn’t know. “I need to get some contact information on Janelle. We’d like to notify her next of kin.”
“Hold on a minute.”
“Would it help if I came over there? Maybe I could talk to her mother as well.”
“Sure, but I’m not sure it will do much good. I just looked up Betty’s file and there’s nothing here about Janelle.”
“Not even a phone number?”
“Well, yes. I do have that.” She read off the number and Helen thanked her, then immediately dialed the number.
“Hello, this is Janelle, please leave a name and number and…”
“Hello,” a familiar male voice interrupted the recording.
“Joe? Is that you?”
“Yeah. How did you get this number?”
“I called the nursing home where her mother lives. Are you at Janelle’s home?”
“No, this is her cell phone.”
“So she had the phone on her when she was killed?”
“She did, but the phone and the number are registered to Betty Sullivan.”
“Her mother.” Helen sighed. “Rosie and I are trying to come up with more information about Janelle. I thought I’d do some research on Betty as well. I’m planning to drop by the facility to see her. She has Alzheimer's, but I might be able to learn something.”
“Good luck with that. I just got a memo on Betty Sullivan. She never had a daughter, let alone one named Janelle.”
Helen blew out a long breath. “This case is getting stranger by the minute.”
Chapter Four
“Can you give me more information on Betty’s family?” Helen asked Joe. “With Janelle gone, someone will need to be listed as a contact in Betty’s file.”
“As I said, her son died a couple of years ago from cancer. Left a wife and daughter. But the wife wasn’t Janelle. It’s possible that Janelle was adopted or a foster child. I’m checking with children’s services.”
“Out of curiosity, what was the son’s name and who did he marry?”
“His name was Brett Sullivan and his wife is Sherrie. We’ll work on locating her.”
“All right, thanks. I’ll head over to the nursing home and talk to Betty and the staff.”
“One more thing,” Joe said, “the facial recognition software came up with nothing. If we didn’t have her body laid out in the morgue, I’d swear the woman never existed.”
After hanging up, Helen relayed Joe’s information to Rosie. “Our Janelle Cooper doesn’t exist as Janelle, but she had to be someone else before she changed her name.”
“Makes you wonder if she was running from someone.” Rosie drained her cup and began to take her empty plates to the kitchen.
“There are a lot of reasons to change one’s name. Witness Protection. She could have been involved in criminal activity. Or been the victim of abuse.” Helen examined her sandwich before taking a bite.
“She could be using an alias to carry out fraudulent activity,” Rosie suggested.
“Or scamming someone.”
“Hard to believe that of Janelle.” Rosie poured herself another cup of coffee and then went to turn her sign back to open.
Once she’d finished her sandwich, Helen took her dishes to the counter. “Thanks for the lunch. That chicken salad was wonderful.”
“Thanks. I’m thinking of offering it as a lunch option.”
“Yum. I’ll be a regular customer.”
Rosie grinned. “You already are.”
Helen chuckled. “I should get going. Maybe I’ll turn up something at the nursing home.”
“Okay, I’ll keep trying to come up with information on Janelle. Oh, one thing, you said she didn’t have a driver’s license. She may not have had a car. I’ve seen her walking and riding a bike, but never noticed a car.”
“Thanks.” Helen added that bit of information to her scanty bio of her house-sitter. Before heading out, Helen scanned the sky for clouds. Seeing only a scattering, she put the top down. Even with all the craziness, there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the ride and the sun.
Several minutes later she drove up to Vista Ridge Convalescent Center. She didn’t much like places like this, but they were necessary when the elderly and infirm needed long term and twenty-four hour care. And some of the facilities, she had to admit, were quite nicely appointed.
Vista Ridge was one of the nice ones. The view from the reception area and large social room showed off their exceptional view of the coast.
“Can I help you?” The question came from a young woman behind the counter at the nurses station.
“Hi,” Helen stepped up to the counter. “I’m Helen Bradley and I called a little while ago about Betty Sullivan.”
“Oh right.” The girl, Mindy, according to her name tag, didn’t look much more than sixteen, but the wedding ring on her finger and a photo of a small child on a bulletin board near her desk, said she was probably in her twenties. The older one got, Helen mused, the younger these under-thirty people seemed. “She’s in the community room. The supervisor told her about her daughter, but she didn’t respond.”
“Is your supervisor here?”
“Sure. Hang on a sec and I’ll see if she’s free.” A phone down the hall rang. “Helen Bradley is here to talk with you about Betty’s daughter.”
The woman must have responded positively as Mindy gave Helen a generous smile and said, “Mrs. Madison be right with you.”
And she was. The supervisor grinned and extended a hand. “Helen. Good to see you.”
“Sandra.” The woman, a member of Helen’s church, had three teenage children, a full time job and was somewhat of a social butterfly. “I’d forgotten you worked here.”
“No wonder, you’re not around all that often.”
“Too true.”
“Come on back to my office.”
Once Helen had taken a seat in one of two armchairs in the spacious office, Sandra snatched a file off her desk and joined her. “I understand we have a bit of a mystery in the making.”
“It certainly appears so. I came home last night to find my home had been ransacked and Janelle Cooper lying dead in my backyard. In trying to find next of kin, we’ve hit a brick wall. Janelle Cooper, according to the police, doesn’t exist. Rosie Monahan and I remembered that Janelle’s mother lived here.”
“I have to tell you that I’m shocked we don’t have more information on Janelle. We always have contact information, but with Janelle it was only a phone number.”
“The phone number is listed under Betty’s name. And we’ve learned that Betty never had a daughter, only a son.”
Sandy frowned. “There must be some mistake. Janelle made the arrangements for Betty to be admitted here. There is no mention of a son on her chart.”
“He died several years ago.”
Sandra pressed her lips together and made a note on the chart. “Janelle was always so attentive to Betty. We had no reason to think there might be a problem. However, now that I think about it, it does seem strange that Betty never mentioned having a daughter. I’ve spoken with her numerous times and she always asked about her son. In fact when I told her that her daughter had passed away, she said she didn’t have a daughter.”
“Which is apparently true,” Helen said. “There is a possibility that Janelle may have been adopted or been a foster child. The sheriff is looking at that angle.”
Sandra frowned. “Though Janelle doesn’t seem the type, there is another possibility. I’m sure you’re aware that some people prey on the elderly. There was one case not long ago that a couple of so called ‘care-givers’ swindled an elderly man out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. They ended up with power of attorney and took everything. Ironically, they were never charged because they had legal documentation.”
“I’ve heard of things like that happening. Do you know anything about Betty’s finances?”
“Only that her social security checks come to us. Janelle paid for any additional expenses over Medicare. She has a small amount for miscellaneous personal needs in an account here. As to what she might have outside of that, I wouldn’t know. According to the admittance forms, Janelle had been caring for her at home until she was no longer able to do so.”
Helen nodded. “I appreciate your talking with me. If it’s okay, I’ll visit with Betty for a few minutes.”
“Of course.” Both women stood. This time Sandra reached out for a hug and Helen complied. “Good to see you again, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”
“You too. Be sure to call me or the sheriff if you think of anything that might help the case.”
“I will. And if you find a next of kin we’d like to know.”
On the way home from Vista Ridge, Helen stopped at the grocery store for a few items that she could turn into a light dinner. Her brief visit with Betty had brought nothing but sadness and frustration. Betty barely acknowledged her. She’d have to find out what the connection was between Betty and Janelle some other way. The best place to start, she determined, was with Betty’s daughter-in-law.
Once home, Helen cut up carrots, celery and onion and sautéed them. To that she added hamburger, a small jar of green chilies and spices and then drowned the mixture in chicken broth, diced tomatoes and tomato sauce.
Setting the chili
on simmer, she went upstairs to her office and clicked on the computer. Once it had booted up, she began searching for Brett Sullivan. Minutes later, she’d found the man she thought was Betty’s son. A funeral home in Santa Barbara had posted his obituary. He’d died five years ago leaving a mother, Betty, a wife and eighteen-year-old daughter. By tracking down Brett, she now had a phone number for Sherrie.
When a woman answered, Helen immediately thought it shouldn’t be this easy. And of course, it wasn’t. Yes, the woman’s name was Sherrie Sullivan and yes, she was a widow who’d been married to Brett. She also admitted to having a mother-in-law named Betty.
“Why are you calling me?” Sherrie asked.
“I’m trying to track down Betty Sullivan’s family.” Helen switched her phone to her other ear and picked up a pen. “Do you know a woman named Janelle Cooper?”
“No, sorry.” The woman hesitated. “Look, I wish I could help you, but we haven’t been in contact with Betty since before Brett died. I sent her a note saying that Brett had cancer and didn’t have long to live. She never responded. They didn’t have a close relationship and I took her silence as a lack of interest. After Brett died, I tried to reach out to her again. Our daughter wanted to visit her grandmother, but again, there was no response. To be honest, I let it go. I did send Christmas cards thinking maybe she’d like to know about Caitlin. The cards never came back and she made no attempt to contact us.”
“She’s in a nursing home and a woman named Janelle Cooper told people here that Betty was her mother. Janelle was killed and we’re trying to find next of kin.”
“Betty didn’t have a daughter.”
“So, she didn’t ever adopt or care for a foster child?”
“Never.” Sherrie cleared her throat. “You said she was in a nursing home?”
“Yes, but not until two years ago.” Helen mulled over the information. “Do you still have Betty’s address?” Helen didn’t like the direction her mind was taking, but she’d pursue it anyway.
Helen wrote down the address and thanked Sherrie.
Death on Arrival: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 1) Page 3
