A Haunting Refrain: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 4)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "Definitely not, but I've an idea. Suppose you go on ahead. Check out Hillary's claims. Scope out the place. Talk to whoever deals with criminal activity out there, probably the county sheriff. I'll deal with the contractor and see if I can get him to hurry the job. Maybe offer them a bonus. There's no reason why this can't be done in a week's time."

  "A week?" Helen laughed. "You are a dreamer. At the rate they're going, it'll be more like a year."

  "If not for Chuck's hunting trip to Alaska, it would be done by now." J.B. rubbed his chin. "With the right incentive, he might be persuaded to hurry the job."

  The contractor had taken two weeks off for his "trip of a lifetime." A trip, which Helen later discovered, he made every year.

  "Do you really think it's possible?" Helen had her doubts. She'd seen the disorganization and lack of communication firsthand. "There's so much stress, and you. . .."

  "I can handle it just fine," he interrupted. "I'm not an invalid, you know."

  She gave him a knowing smile, remembering their romantic tryst at the Stephanie Resort in Cannon Beach last weekend. With J.B. still having the physique of a much younger man, it was sometimes hard to imagine him having health problems. "The doctor said you should take it easy."

  "And I'll be doing just that. Believe me, luv, most of the stress around here lately has come from you. Truth be told, the builders are beginning to complain."

  "Me! It's my house. I have a right to supervise." Helen didn't relish the thought of leaving her home in the builders' hands, or J.B.'s. "There are so many details to attend to. Decisions to make." Decisions she didn't trust anyone else to make.

  "And you don't trust me to make them. Is that it?"

  She stood there a moment longer, hands on her hips, ready for battle. "It isn't that exactly."

  J.B. wheeled the office chair around and went back to his desk. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with the house. But I can see you don't think so. You'll have to call your uncle and tell him you can't make it."

  Her anger deflated in an exaggerated exhale. She'd done it again. "I'm sorry." Helen came up behind him, settling her hands on his broad shoulders. "I guess I've been independent for too long. You have a point. Maybe I have been a little overbearing."

  J.B. clasped her right hand and brought it to his lips. "More than a little, I'm afraid, but I forgive you."

  She sighed and nuzzled his neck, kissing him just below the ear. "I have to go. Paddy's been like a father to me. I couldn't bear it if something happened to him."

  "I know." He turned back around and pulled her onto his lap. "And there's no cause for you to worry yourself about me or the house. We've talked about what we want done, right?"

  "Mm." She nodded and settled into his embrace.

  "And we're in agreement."

  "That's true." They'd picked out everything, carpeting, tiles, fixtures.

  "Then there's really no problem. If anything comes up, I can call you."

  "I suppose." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his.

  "Well then, luv." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Now that we've taken care of that, you'd best leave me to my work."

  Helen reluctantly wriggled out of his lap and went to the window. "I guess I need to pack. The boat is picking me up in Anacortes at three tomorrow, so I'll have to leave early."

  "Right." He winked at her. "Tonight we'll have dinner out and you can brief me on any last-minute details regarding the house."

  "I'd like that." She chewed on her lip.

  "Relax, luv," J.B. reminded her again. "Everything will work out fine. When you come home, you'll have a beautiful new addition."

  "I hope so."

  You're doing the right thing, she told herself as she left JB to his work. Uncle Paddy needed her. If his life really was in danger, she had no choice.

  A truck rumbled into the driveway. "Looks as though our doors and windows have arrived." Helen watched two of the workers pull a plate-glass window from the Watson Glass Company's delivery truck. The glass teetered as one of the men stumbled. In slow motion it crashed to the ground.

  J.B. joined her at the window when he heard her gasp.

  "Looks as though I spoke too soon," he said.

  Helen closed her eyes and set her jaw, determined not to let their bungling get the best of her. "Would you like to go down there and take care of it," she asked, "or should I?"

  "You need to pack." J.B. squeezed her shoulders. "I'll see to it."

  Helen followed J.B. downstairs, and while he went out to supervise the construction crew, she called Hillary back.

  The older woman answered on the first ring.

  "Oh, Helen, I'm so glad you've called. You will be coming, won't you?"

  "Yes. I talked to J.B. and he's agreed."

  "Praise God." She breathed heavily. "What with all the strange happenings out here, it'll be none too soon.''

  "Tell Paddy I'm looking forward to seeing him."

  "I'll do that. He'll be pleased. Oh . . . and Helen, you might want to bring your gun. Just in case.

  Chapter Two

  Over tea the next morning Helen and J.B. listened to the disparaging weather report.

  "We have another big front coming in, bringing high winds and poor visibility along the coast," the weatherman informed them. "We could see gusts up to sixty-five miles an hour. A good day for building a fire in the fireplace and staying inside. That is, if the wind doesn't blow your roof off." He chuckled as if he'd found his attempt at humor funny, then went on to report the five-day forecast, which called for sun after the storm blew through.

  "Looks like you won't be flying," J.B. said.

  "True." The night before, she'd thought about taking their Cessna to the island. Both she and J.B. were pilots, but since his heart attack J.B. had been grounded. Helen glanced at the green digital numbers on the microwave. Six-thirty. Soon time to leave.

  Driving would take around seven hours, since she planned to stop in Portland on her way to see her daughter, Kate.

  Even with the storm warnings, she was looking forward to the trip. She enjoyed driving, and being away from the construction mess would be a blessing. Still, it would be difficult to leave it all behind.

  "Perhaps you'd best wait out the storm." J.B. sipped at his coffee. "The fireplace idea sounds like a good one, and I doubt we'll have any workers about. We could strip off the drop cloths now that the patio door is in place. Spruce up the living room a bit. You could catch up on your reading."

  "As delightful as that sounds, I'll have to take a rain check. The storm is coming in from the west. If I hurry, I may be able to outrun it."

  "Ah." He sighed, feigning disappointment. "In that case I shall have to resort to writing. I assume, since you're so anxious to leave, you've decided you can entrust the care of the remodeling project to me?"

  "Absolutely." Helen smiled. "As much as I hate to say it, you were right. Chuck seems to work better for the man of the house."

  "Don't take it personally, luv. Our tool man is living under the false impression that men still rule the world."

  "While you, my darling, have no illusions." She squeezed his shoulder as she walked by. Taking a chair, she said, "At least that explains his antagonistic response toward me."

  "And you, my dear, seem to have forgotten your people skills, at least where our contractor is concerned. I've a hunch you're resisting the change."

  "True. Thanks to you, I'm feeling much better about it, especially after last night."

  J.B. had taken her to dinner as he'd promised, and then checked them into a lovely bed-and-breakfast for the night. The room, a suite, actually, featured a gas fireplace and hot tub for two. It couldn't have been more romantic or relaxing.

  This morning when they'd returned home, it was to find that Chuck, bless his heart, had stayed until ten the evening before to insert the patio door and complete the finish work around it. The workmanship was superb, and Helen could hardly imagine the old
wall. She felt certain that Chuck's extra effort had to do with J.B.'s little talk with him after the broken window incident. Or perhaps he was simply celebrating the fact that she'd be gone for the next week. Helen's spirits rose and her optimism returned.

  When it was time to leave, J.B. helped load the luggage into her restored 1955 red Thunderbird convertible. The top was up, of course, and rain pelted the black leather. Standing in the shelter of the porch, she and J.B. exchanged a long good-bye.

  "Are you sure you'll be okay?" Helen held him close. Second thoughts broke into her resolve to leave him alone.

  "You mustn't worry yourself, luv. I don't plan to stop living because of a mild heart attack." He placed a finger over her lips and shushed her protest. "Besides, the most strenuous things I plan to do over the next week are work on my book, oversee construction, and take an occasional walk."

  "I know, but. . ." His lips covered hers, cutting off her objections. The last time she'd left him had been to go to the Long Beach Peninsula to do research for a guidebook. She'd ended up in the middle of a murder investigation and he'd suffered a heart attack. He didn't like being reminded of that. She didn't like thinking about it, but one needed to face facts.

  "Now, off with you." J.B. gave her a gentle push. "Call me when you arrive. Say hello to Paddy from me. And your cousins, Claire and Richard, right?"

  "Yes. It'll be good to see them again."

  "Have fun, then. I'll see you in a week."

  She came back for one more kiss. "I love you."

  "And I you. Now go on before I change my mind and haul you back inside." He grinned at her departing figure and waved as she backed out of the driveway drove past the new addition, and out of sight.

  Forty-five minutes later Helen crested Murray Hill Summit in the Coastal Mountain Range. The clouds disappeared and the sun shone warm and brilliant in the clear blue sky as she escaped the storm front. The transformation happened quickly, as if some forest nymph had waved a magic wand.

  She passed through a wide, muted rainbow thinking the pot of gold was all hers. God had sprinkled it over the hills. Autumn colors dotted the hillsides as she made her way to Salem and the Interstate 5 freeway that would take her through Seattle and to Anacortes, where she'd board Paddy's yacht. The sunshine dispelled her latent fears, filling her with a joy she hadn't felt since before J.B.'s heart attack. She was leaving the storm behind in more ways than one.

  Wanting to enjoy the sun and fresh air more fully, Helen pulled off the road on a wide shoulder to put the top down.

  "Thank you, Lord," she sighed, "for this glorious day." The only cloud darkening her horizon hung over Paradise Island. Maybe that, too, would be gone by the time she arrived.

  On the road again, Helen plugged a CD into the car's stereo system and crooned along with John Denver as he sang about sunshine on his shoulders.

  She was just passing through Salem when her cell phone rang.

  For a moment her heart stopped. Had something happened to J.B.? Had the wind torn down the framing for their new addition, or blown the roof off the house? Turning down the vol­ume, she ventured a tentative, "Hello?"

  "Oh, Helen," a woman's voice responded. "I'm so glad I caught you. J.B. gave me your cell phone number."

  It took her a moment to regroup. "Claire, is that you? What's going on? Is Paddy all right?"

  "As far as I know. J.B. told me you'd already been summoned and were on your way. I talked to Hillary last night. Apparently she'd been trying to reach me all day. I'd gone up to Bellingham to see Megan. She's teaching at the college this year. Loves it."

  "That's great, about Megan, I mean. Are you going to the island?"

  "Yes. Unfortunately, I have a transportation problem. Fabian has my car and . . . um . . . it's a long story. The thing is, I need a ride to Anacortes. I thought if you were going . . ."

  "Say no more. I'd be happy to pick you up. Who is Fabian, not the Fabian?" Helen pictured the rock star and heartthrob of their youth. He'd be about their age now, and the idea of Claire knowing him was not that farfetched. Many well-known celebrities made it a point to stay at Paddy's luxury resorts.

  "No. This one is younger and even more good-looking. I meant to call you. I met him on my last cruise. You'll love him, Helen. I think I've finally found Mr. Right."

  "Really." Helen hoped she didn't sound as skeptical as she felt. Claire had found several "Mr. Rights." Six, to be exact. With the exception of her first husband, every one of them had either been unfaithful or absconded with whatever part of her fortune they could get their hands on. Bill Fairchild, her first and perhaps only real love, had died of cancer at the age of thirty-five. They'd been married only five years and had one daughter, Megan.

  With Bill's death, Claire inherited the Fairchild fortune and a year later married the first of her gigolos. Helen couldn't even remember his name. Like many widows, Claire was under the misconception that she needed a man in her life, a father for Megan. Unfortunately, she became the target of men who promised her the world and left her with nothing but a broken heart and a little less money.

  While Claire may not have had good taste in men, the family attorney, an old friend and school chum of Bill's, made certain her suitors couldn't get their hands on the bulk of her fortune. Perhaps that's why they all eventually left.

  "He's not like the others," Claire said after a long pause. "Fabian is, well, you'll like him. Megan thinks he's an opportunist, but she doesn't know him that well yet." The halting uncertainty of her words told Helen that Megan's assessment might be more to the truth.

  "I look forward to meeting him." It wasn't a lie, not really.

  "I'm sure he'd like to meet you too. Unfortunately, he's not here right now. Which is why I'm without wheels. Megan says he's gone for good and that he took my Mercedes and jewelry with him. Which is so silly. I mean, just because my jewels were stolen doesn't mean he did it. He couldn't have. He was as upset as I was when we discovered they were missing."

  Helen refrained from commenting. From the sounds of it, poor Claire had been taken in again, but it would be better to save that conversation until they were face-to-face.

  "I hate to bother you about the ride." Claire changed the subject. "In fact, I was going to try to catch a ride with Richard, but Sandra said he went out to the island yesterday."

  Helen switched gears, as well, thinking now about Hillary's accusations against Claire's older brother and the attempts on Paddy's life. Deciding not to worry Claire, she said, "It's no bother at all. In fact, I look forward to it. It’ll give us a chance to catch up. It's been too long."

  "Nearly two years. Time flies, doesn't it? When will you be here?"

  Helen checked her watch. "I'm stopping in Portland to see Kate; and Jason, if he's free. That should put me in Seattle around noon. We'll grab a bite to eat, then head up to Anacortes."

  "Terrific. See you then. Oh, Helen, Megan says hi. She's coming to the island too. She'll meet us at the dock."

  "Sounds like we'll have a nice reunion. See you soon."

  Helen set the cell phone back into its holder. Rubbing away the beginnings of a headache, she drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She tried to set her worries about Paddy, Richard, and now Claire aside, but the thoughts kept coming up like a stuck record. Both siblings stood to inherit a great deal of money when Paddy died. She couldn't envision either of them hurrying the process along. Unfortunately, people changed, as did circumstances.

  If this Fabian had somehow found a way to abscond with Claire's money, might she try to hasten her father's death? Helen shook her head, refusing to entertain the thought. Claire, with her sweet and trusting disposition, might have a weak spot for men, but she would never harm her father.

  She thought again of Fabian, Claire's latest heartthrob. Could he somehow be involved in the attempts on Paddy's life? If he'd taken off with Claire's car and jewelry, might he also try to get more?

  Frustrated, she shook her head to dispel the absurd th
oughts. "It does no good to speculate," she lectured herself aloud. "You haven't even met the man. You need to get the facts first." She turned up the volume of her CD again and then belted out the last strains of "Calypso." When the song ended, she pulled off the road and got into the drive-thru line at Starbucks. While waiting, she picked up the cell phone and called Kate.

  "Mom, hi. What's up?" Dishes clattered in the background, and Helen imagined her wiry, dark-haired daughter standing at the sink and loading the dishwasher.

  "I'm coming by. I thought it might be a good idea to let you know."

  "Great! When will you be here?"

  "In about an hour. I'm leaving Salem now."

  "Are you staying? The guest house is a mess, but it won't take me long to clean it. The kids would be thrilled."

  "No, just passing through. I should have called last night, but things have been rather hectic." Helen told her about the call from Hillary and brought her up-to-date on the building project. "I couldn't very well pass through Portland without stopping to see my favorite daughter."

  Kate laughed. "Your only daughter."

  "That's a moot point."

  "Are you stopping to see Jason too?"

  Jason was Kate's twin. "No time to stop. I would like to see Jason, though. Maybe you could invite him to have coffee with us."

  "I can try, but you know how busy he's been lately. Seems there's at least one murder in Portland every day. It's gotten as bad as L.A. I don't know how he does it."

  "True, I noticed." Helen chewed her lip. "See what you can do. Invite Susan, too, of course."

  "Trying to make up for all the time you've been avoiding us lately?

  "I haven't been avoiding you. It's that remodeling business. I just didn't expect it to take so much time."

  "I could have told you that. In fact, I think I did when I designed it for you."