No one answered. "That's funny." Claire tried the door to the cabin. "Wonder where they are. You did say Richard was with him?"
"That's the report I got." Helen glanced at her watch. "We are early It's just quarter to three. Maybe they decided to go out for a snack."
"Maybe, but it's not like Dad to leave when he's expecting guests. He's usually sitting on deck sipping his suds a half hour before anyone is due to arrive. He loves greeting people and playing admiral. In fact, that's what he likes to be called when he's operating the boat."
Claire dug through her bag, producing a set of keys. "You'd think if he was gone Mel would have mentioned it. But you're right. It is early. We'll just make ourselves at home and wait."
They let themselves in and stashed their luggage in one of the three berths below, then settled topside with iced tea and memories. They'd been there twenty minutes when someone slid open the door below.
"Mom? Helen? Hello is anyone here?"
"Megan." Claire bounced from her cushioned seat and leaned over the railing. "Up here, honey."
Helen joined her cousin at the rail. Megan dropped two bags in the cabin, then went down the steps to retrieve another. She glanced up and waved, a wide smile dimpling her round cheeks. She'd inherited her mother's red hair and had molasses brown eyes. Megan had gained weight since the last time Helen had seen her, her once athletic frame now rounded with an apparent late-term pregnancy.
"Helen, hi.”
Helen returned the greeting.
“Where's Grandpa?"
"He's not here," Claire called down. "I'm starting to get worried."
"Starting. I'd think you'd be frantic. You know how punctual he is." Megan sounded like a mother talking to an errant child. Helen had recently dealt with this herself. Kate seemed to think she needed a keeper. Daughters, especially, seemed to slip into the parental role as their parents aged.
"Let me stash this stuff and I'll go up and check with Mel." Megan panted as she made her way up the stairs again.
"You look beat. Why don't I run up and talk to him?" Helen started down the winding teakwood stairs to the main cabin.
"That would be great." Megan collapsed into the nearest chair.
Claire nodded toward Megan. "You look exhausted."
"Not easy carrying around all this extra weight," Megan retorted. Her smile returned. "But it'll soon be over."
"I'll be right back." Helen scurried off the boat and down the steps.
Richard was just driving through the gate when she arrived. It was well after three, and neither Mel nor Richard had any idea where Paddy might have gone.
"I took off as soon as we docked." Richard looked gaunt and pale. Like Claire, he'd lost weight and on him it did not look good. "Wanted to check out the casino near Mount Vernon." The disdained look in his eyes told her the experience hadn't been a pleasant one. "'Course, I didn't tell Dad that. He was planning to go into town for supplies."
"Which he did." Mel opened a logbook. "The admiral went out at two and came back in at three, just a few minutes after you and Claire came in." He glanced back at a row of garages. "The door is closed, so his car should be in there."
Helen dragged a hand through her hair. "Then we'd better have a look around. I think the best place to start would be his car."
"Good idea." Richard leaned through the open window of his shiny red Corvette. "I'll park and help look."
Helen and Mel made their way to the garages. "These are reserved for the long-staying guests who want to pay the extra money they cost," Mel explained. "Paddy uses one, since he's on the island most of the time"
Mel pointed a garage-door opener at garage number one and the door slowly ground open. Paddy's black Cadillac was parked inside, the trunk open. A bag of groceries was on the floor, its contents spilling out.
Paddy's body lay still and unmoving beside a broken bottle of Irish Creme.
Chapter Six
Uncle Paddy!" Helen hunkered down beside him and checked for a carotid pulse.
"Is he alive?" Richard crouched on the other side, careful not to step in the latte colored liquor that Paddy lay in.
"I'm getting a strong pulse. He must have fallen." The smear mark of a shoe through the edge of the puddle testified to the probability.
Paddy groaned and touched an angry red bruise at his hairline and tried to sit up. "What the devil is going on?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," Helen said. "What happened to you?" The bump on the top of his head was inconsistent with a fall. Had someone attacked him? "How did you get that?" Helen reached up to touch it. "Looks like someone hit you."
He winced and brushed her hand away. "No one hit me. That dad-gummed garage door came down on top of me. Reached up to stop it. Not sure what happened after that. By the looks of things, I must have dropped my Bailey's." His hand shot out to his son. "Give me a hand up."
"No, wait. You shouldn't move" Her warning to stay put went unheeded. "We should call an ambulance."
"No need." He rubbed the back of his head. "Cracked myself back here too. Must have been when I fell."
"Uncle, please. At least let's get you to a doctor," Helen pleaded, knowing full well the stubborn Irishman would resist.
"No doctors. I'm fit as a fiddle."
"But you were unconscious. You've got two nasty bumps that need ice."
"Now, Helen." The man seemed to gain strength with each opposition he made. "You're sounding too much like Hillary. Nothing wrong with me that a little cleaning up won't cure." He grimaced at his stained white pants and the mucky liquid dripping from his sweater sleeve.
"Forget it, Helen." Richard released his father's hand once he'd pulled him up. "Talking to Dad is like talking to a brick wall. If he says he's fine, then he probably is. Not much can hurt that hard head of his anyway."
Helen shook her head and sighed. "All right, I'll go along with you for now, but if I see anything that looks remotely like a concussion, I'm taking you in."
Paddy ignored her and seemed to concentrate on standing upright. Leaning heavily against the car, he barked, "If you want to make yourselves useful, you can hand me my cane and salvage what's left of the groceries."
Richard handed him the cane that had landed just inside the garage door while Helen began gathering up the spilled items.
"You be careful of all that glass," Mel said. "I'll get something to clean up the mess and bring the groceries down. Might be best if you and Richard help the admiral down the ramp."
"Don't need any help," Paddy claimed as he limped out of the garage. Helen agreed with Mel, however, and seconds later she was walking beside the two men. Paddy resisted their help, choosing instead to hold on to the railing. Despite his injuries and age, he managed to carry himself erect. His color wasn't the best, Helen noted, but she wouldn't comment on it.
"Dad! What happened?" Claire and Megan rushed out to greet them as they approached the boat.
"Just had a little run-in with the garage door. Nothing to worry your little heads about. I look worse than I feel." His features softened as he stepped aboard and the two women closed in for a hug.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Megan leveled an accusing look at her uncle Richard, then at Helen. "Why are you letting him walk by himself? He should be seeing a doctor."
"Hogwash. What's a doctor going to do, Megan? Tell me I got a bump on the head and send me home? I'm too busy for messing with the likes of them."
Claire slipped an arm through Paddy's. "I couldn't agree more, Dad. Come on. You need to clean up so we can get underway."
"That's what I've been trying to tell these boneheads." Paddy relaxed some, leaning slightly in Claire's direction as he maneuvered the steps and boarded his craft.
Helen watched the exchange with humor. Claire knew exactly how to handle her father, or thought she did. He tolerated her efforts gallantly. While Paddy cleaned up, Helen and Richard told Claire and Megan what had transpired.
"He's adamant that it was an a
ccident." Helen settled into one of the stools at the bar. "I still haven't been able to figure out how the door came down on him."
"Maybe he started to close the door too soon," Megan offered. She'd apparently forgiven them for not taking better care of her grandfather. "I've seen him do that. He'll hit the switch and slip under the door. There's usually plenty of time."
"For someone who moves quickly," Richard reminded her. "Remember, though, he had packages and a cane."
"It's possible, of course, but I'd think Paddy would be more careful than that." Helen ran her hand along the raised edge of the smooth teakwood bar. "I keep thinking about what Hillary told me about someone trying to kill him."
"Are you saying someone brought the door down on him on purpose?" Claire gaped at her openmouthed.
"What attempts?" Megan asked. "What are you talking about?"
"There have been some accidents on the island," Claire said. "Hillary is exaggerating, I'm sure."
"Tell me." Megan lowered herself onto the leather couch and eased her shoes off.
"Well, you know how they say things happen in threes." Claire bit her lip. "Of course, this would be the fourth, wouldn't it?"
"Mother! What happened?"
"For heaven's sake, Claire, get to the point." Richard paced across the carpet to the open sliding glass door and back. "Megan, it wouldn't hurt for you to develop a little patience."
"That's calling the kettle black, isn't it?" Claire cast him a disparaging look. "Maybe you'd better tell her, Richard, since you're so much better at it than I am."
"Well, somebody better tell me." Megan stretched her legs out on the coffee table. "How about you, Helen? Maybe we should go topside and leave Mom and Uncle Richard to their arguing."
Helen shifted uncomfortably. Their animosity seemed out of character. Though they had their differences, Richard and Claire had always gotten on well. In fact, she'd never seen Claire so defensive. They'd been at each other's throats since his arrival. She made a mental note to ask them both about it later. "I'm afraid I have no details, Megan. I'd like to hear more as well."
"If you want details, then I'll have to defer to my brother." Claire settled onto the couch next to Megan, arms folded. "According to Hillary, he's the one who caused them."
"That's ridiculous. The woman's histrionic." Richard tipped his head back in resignation and claimed one of the easy chairs. "I only know what Dad told me, which isn't much. The first incident happened about a week ago. He'd gone out fishing like he usually does on Monday mornings. Best time, he says, because most of the weekenders are gone. Unfortunately, his boat sprang a major leak and went down about five miles from Paradise. He had a life jacket and managed to swim to one of the smaller islands. It was uninhabited but not too far from the route the ferries take to Sydney. Fortunately, a passenger on the ferry spotted the orange life vest through binoculars and reported it. The captain notified the Coast Guard and they picked him up."
"Why didn't he radio the Coast Guard for help before he went down?" Helen asked.
"He didn't have a radio on board. It was one of the small fishing boats."
"Did they find his boat?"
"Afraid not. Dad said he couldn't get the thing turned over. It went down and all he could do was swim ashore."
"Do you think it was an accident?" Helen asked.
"I'm not sure. Dad claims it was. The thing is, he's always kept his boats in excellent condition. If there was a weak spot or a leak in the boat, he would have seen it right off. I don't know. Maybe he's slipping. I got to thinking it might not be safe for him to be piloting the yacht anymore."
"My grandfather is not slipping and you know it. You said there were three incidents. What was the second?" Megan pulled one leg up and began massaging her swollen ankle.
"There was a landslide on the trail near the summit. He lost his footing. Managed to catch a snag and pull himself to safety." Richard smiled. "Tough old bird, got to admit that. Had to be in good shape to survive that one. I'll admit the slide could have been an accident. It would be hard to stage something like that. I doubt the last one was an accident though. Day before yesterday someone shot at him."
"What? Mom, I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"I didn't want to worry you." Claire reached for Megan's hand. "Dad said it was probably a stray bullet from a poacher."
"How likely is that, Richard?" Helen picked up a terra-cotta coaster, admiring the carved orca whale.
"I suppose it's possible, but not likely. Security is pretty tight on the island. The chances of a poacher slipping in undetected aren't too great. On the other hand, if someone is trying to kill him, they're doing a lousy job of it."
"Has Grandpa called the police?"
"I doubt it," Richard answered. "I told him to, but you know how well he listens."
"Who listens?" Paddy emerged from the lower quarters. He'd changed into a white uniform that made him look like an admiral. A cap completed the outfit and covered his injuries. "What's this about calling the police?"
"Richard was just telling us about the attempts on your life," Megan said.
"Humph. I'll thank you kindly not to be talking behind my back. But since you seem bound and determined not to mind your own business, I'll set your minds to rest. I informed the RCMP and Sheriff Stone about the poacher. Not that it did much good. They'd rather fight about jurisdiction than solve crimes."
"You told them about the other incidents, as well, didn't you?" Helen slipped off the stool.
"What for?" He looked her up and down. "You're looking fit, Helen. That spy taking good care of you?"
"Very good." Helen smiled. "Not that I need much taking care of."
He spread his arms. "Come give your old uncle a proper greeting."
Helen moved into his arms for their customary hug. "It is good to see you again, Paddy." She drew back and looked into his clear blue eyes. Normal. The bumps on the head didn't seem to be having any ill effects on him. Still, he'd bear watching. "Kate and Jason said to tell you hi. J.B. too. He'll be up later this week if our building project goes well. I hope you don't mind. I thought we'd spend a day or two enjoying the resort."
"Stay as long as you like. That goes for all of you. Providing. He shifted his gaze to Richard and then to Claire. “You two can stop treating me like an invalid."
Richard dragged his hands down his face. "Dad, I'm only looking out for your best interests." When Paddy started to object, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, have it your own way. You always do."
Richard turned to Helen. "Guess it's my turn to give you a proper welcome, too, Helen. Like Dad says, it's good to see you."
He rose and pulled her into a less than exuberant hug. "I'm afraid you haven't caught us at our best."
"No need to apologize." Resting a hand on his bony shoulder, Helen asked, "Will Sandra be joining us?"
"Not today. She has to take Marcie to a music recital tonight. They'll come out tomorrow."
"Good. I was hoping to see them. What is Marcie now, about ten?" Marcie was their midlife surprise, born twenty years after their son, Patrick. A darling girl with an exceptional talent for music. As Helen recalled, she played the violin.
"Ten going on thirty." Claire chuckled. "You'll hardly recognize her."
Looking at Claire, Richard said, "I told them they could take your boat out. Is that okay?"
"Sure, but why not yours?"
"The broker has a couple of potential buyers looking at it tomorrow. He wants it available all day. It's not a problem, is it?"
"Of course not." She glanced down at the glass in her hand. "I'm not using it much these days anyway."
"What about Patrick?" Megan asked. "Is he coming?"
"If he can get away."
"Of course he'll be there." Paddy began the ascent to the upper level. "This is it for today, Helen," Paddy said. "If everyone is ready, we'll be underway. Which one of you wants to play deck hand?"
Claire saluted and volunteered.
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"Shouldn't we wait for Mel to bring the supplies down?" Richard asked.
As if on cue, Mel lumbered down the ramp with the remaining groceries. The two plastic bags swung from his beefy hands as he walked. He puffed his way to the steps, where Richard met him. Handing the bags off, he said, "Got it all cleaned up. The admiral doing okay?"
"Ornery as ever. Thanks for your help." Richard handed the bags up to Helen and reached into his wallet for a tip.
Mel nodded his head in thanks. "You folks have a good trip."
Hopping on board, Richard mumbled something about the return trip being better than the one coming in. He helped Helen take the groceries to the galley. She set the perishables and drinks in the icebox while Richard stashed the rest in the pantry.
"Paddy told me you were sick on the trip in," Helen said when they'd finished. "Are you not feeling well?"
He sent her an odd look, which she took to mean it was none of her business. It wasn't until they were both standing at the railing watching Claire deal with the last rope that he answered. "I've had a rough couple of months." He turned around, his back against the rail. His thoughts seemed far away. Though Helen prided herself in being able to read faces, she was having difficulty with his.
"Want to talk about it?" Helen adjusted her stance to maintain her balance as the boat moved away from the dock.
He dropped a hesitant gaze to hers. "Not just yet. I'm working up the courage."
"What an odd thing to say."
His thin lips lifted in a half smile. "Guess I could tell you part of it, though. You'll all find out tomorrow. Sandra is divorcing me."
"Oh no. Richard, I'm sorry."
"It's been a long time coming." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "Think I'll go lie down."
Even as they'd been talking, his skin tone had faded. "Sounds like a good idea. Can I get you anything? I have some ginger in my purse. It helps with nausea."
He shook his head. "I have something. Talk to you later."
Helen watched him walk unsteadily across the deck. Catching the rail, he descended to the lower level. Her mind played with possibilities. He was definitely sick. And it was more than a flu bug, she felt certain of that.
A Haunting Refrain: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 4) Page 6
