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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "We'll have to tell her." Helen straightened.

  "I know." Claire covered her face and sobbed. "I married a murderer, Helen. How could I have made such a terrible mistake?"

  "Some people are very good liars." In an automatic gesture, Helen began massaging her cousin's shoulders as if she could somehow rub out the pain. Her own eyes misted again in sympathy. If Fabian had killed Paddy and the detective, where was he now? How had he come and gone from the island without being detected?

  "Why, Helen?" Claire murmured. "Why would Fabian kill Dad? It couldn't have been the money. He didn't end up with that much."

  Helen's head was beginning to throb. "I have no idea. Maybe he was afraid they'd find condemning evidence against him and go to the police." Had Paddy met with Trace before coming back to the boat? Had Fabian seen them talking together? She felt an overwhelming urge to escape this room and castle and all the unanswered questions.

  "Claire, I don't mean to sound insensitive, but I really need to get out of here for a while. Why don't you come with me?"

  "Where are you going?" She sniffed and blew her nose. "They won't let us leave the island."

  "Then let's go for a walk around the island. You said there was a trail."

  "All right. But we'll need to change."

  Looking down at her sandals and dress, Helen agreed.

  At the stairs Claire started up, but Helen lingered behind. "Aren't you coming?"

  "In a minute. I'm going to make us a snack and something to drink. I'll be right there."

  Helen did plan to stop in the kitchen, but only after she found the RCMP. He and Greg were walking up the path from the marina. "Where is the sheriff?"

  "Viewing tapes in the security room. We were hoping to see them, too, but she didn't want company."

  "I see. Maybe the three of us can have a look when she's finished." Glancing at Chad she added, "If that's okay with you."

  "Sure. Six eyes are better than two."

  Helen should have taken her information directly to the sheriff, but she didn't. "Since the sheriff is indisposed," she directed her remark to Chad, "I'll have to talk to you."

  "Would you like me to leave?" Greg asked.

  "No, you'll see it eventually anyway." She told them about the report Claire had found in Paddy's desk. "Fabian appears to be the link between the two deaths."

  "Poor Claire." Greg brushed a hand through his thick hair. "Maybe I should talk to her."

  "She's gone to her room to change. I'm taking her for a walk around the island."

  "That's good." Greg shook his head. "She deserves so much better than the likes of Fabian. I don't know where she digs up these guys."

  "I'd like to have a look at Peterson's report," Chad said.

  "It's on Paddy's desk." Helen walked in with them. "By the way, where is Father Daley?"

  "He was heading upstairs to talk with Richard and Sandra the last I saw," Greg answered.

  "Good. Maybe he can help Richard. That family could certainly use some priestly intervention." Helen left the men at the entrance and went around to the kitchen. Martha was washing dishes.

  "What can I get for you?"

  "Claire and I are going for a walk. Thought I'd fix a snack."

  "It's as good as done. Just come by and pick it up when you're ready."

  "I hate to trouble you."

  "Believe me, it would be more trouble to have you underfoot." She grinned and pushed Helen out. "Besides, I know just what you need. We packed snacks every day for our hikers dur­ing the summer."

  Helen gave up and hurried up the stairs and into her room. She could hear the water running in Claire's room. She undressed, used the facilities, and pulled on a stone-washed tur­quoise T-shirt from Key West, a pair of black cotton shorts with matching socks, and sturdy brown leather hiking boots.

  When thoughts about Paddy and Trace came up, Helen dismissed them. All she wanted to do right now was clear her mind of the disjointed thoughts clogging her ability to reason. Later she'd sift through everything again. At the moment she was too caught up in her own emotions to think clearly.

  She pulled her backpack from the closet floor and dumped the contents into a drawer. She loved her multipurpose bag. It was perfect for shopping, hiking, carrying around a camera and food, as well as her laptop. Placing her camera in its special outside pocket, she zipped it up.

  Helen paused to count her roses. Ten remained. At least she'd solved that mystery, or part of it. Sarah had taken two of them. But who had taken the third, placed it in the room with Paddy, then returned it?

  Fabian? Not likely. Killing one man execution style and the other with cyanide, then leaving a rose? The pieces just didn't fit. She sighed and promised herself not to think about any of the craziness.

  When she emerged from her room, Claire was waiting. Even though she'd reapplied her makeup, her face was still blotchy. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, but then why should it?

  "We'll stop by the kitchen to pick up our snacks," Helen said. "Martha said she'd put something together for us."

  In the kitchen Martha handed Helen a paper bag. "I put in some fruit rolls, energy bars, trail mix, apples, cheese sticks, and carrots."

  "My goodness, we're only going out for the afternoon," Helen exclaimed.

  "Takes a lot of energy to hike five miles. That is, if you're planning on taking the loop trail."

  "It's perfect, Martha. Thanks." Claire's voice was flat and lifeless.

  Martha took two water bottles out of the refrigerator and placed them in the backpack. Helen slipped it on and adjusted the straps over her shoulders. It was heavy, but nothing more than she was used to.

  They left then. Helen was eager to escape before something happened to detain them. Claire must have had similar feelings because she jogged for the first quarter of a mile, slowing only after they'd passed the pools and entered the forest.

  As if remembering she had a companion, Claire stopped and turned around. Helen nearly ran into her. "I'm sorry," she panted. "I forgot you were carrying the pack. Want me to take it?"

  "No. It's fine for now. We can change every couple miles or so if you want."

  They walked along in companionable silence through the woods. Tall, thick timbers, pine, cedar, and fir, were interspersed with vine maple, rhododendron, wild huckleberries, and salal to make up what Helen suspected was a virgin forest. A rare find in the Northwest these days with so much of the forested land being owned by the large timber companies. She drew in the refreshing woodsy scent. Fresh, yet slightly musty. Comforting.

  Claire stopped and pointed to the trail ahead of her. Two does stood in a clearing snacking on leaves. Their heads snapped up. Their bodies tense and ears pricked, the deer warily eyed the two strangers.

  Helen wanted a photo but didn't want to frighten them by taking off her pack. "My camera is in that big outside pocket," she whispered. "Can you get it for me?"

  Claire eased behind Helen and slowly withdrew the camera. "Shall we try to get closer?"

  Helen took a couple of shots using her telephoto lens, and then crept toward the animals. She got another shot before they bolted. She hung the camera around her neck as they walked on. After another half mile the wooded trail opened onto a bluff overlooking the water.

  "Remember the caves we saw coming in? Clair asked. “One of them is right under us."

  Helen ventured a few steps off the trail. Looking down she saw nothing but jagged rocks, similar to those near her home. The only sign of the cave entrance was the water swirling in an unusual pattern where the current moved through. Helen lifted her camera to look through the lens, snapped a photo, then focused on a small craft about two hundred feet offshore. Two men were on board, both in scuba gear. Interesting but not something she wanted to do, especially at this time of year. She loved scuba diving, but not in the Northwest. The water was far too cold. She preferred the reefs and the colorful sea life off Key West and Hawaii. But despite the chilly water, diving schools flourishe
d.

  "Come on, Helen. If you keep stopping to take pictures, it will be dark before we get back." Claire walked on ahead.

  Helen put the camera back in the pack so she'd be less apt to stop. Besides, she could always get more photos later. Even though she'd decided on a break from writing, her mind began to formulate an article about Paradise for one of the travel magazines she wrote for. "I'm coming." She ran to catch up. For the next mile the trail moved in and out of the woods, most of it hugging the shoreline on one side and the mountain on the other. At the eastern end of the island, the trail forked. One path led to the summit and was a one-and-a-quarter-mile loop. At the edge of the trail was a rustic and weathered wooden bench.

  "Are you up for the climb?" Helen asked.

  "Not really." Claire dropped onto the bench. "Go ahead if you want. I'll just sit here and enjoy the view."

  Helen was torn. She wanted to go up to the summit for several reasons. She felt like climbing, expected to get some great shots, and wanted to get a better feel for the island itself. But she didn't want to leave Claire. "I'm not sure either of us should be alone."

  "Don't be silly. We'll be fine. I'll sit here for a while, then go on up the trail where you'll come out. If you don't stop to take too many pictures, it'll only take you forty-five minutes or so. In fact, why don't you leave the backpack. You'll be able to go faster. We can eat when you come down."

  "All right." Helen suspected Claire needed some time alone. She didn't argue. Removing her camera and water bottle, she took a long drink, then returned the bottle to the pack. "See you in a few."

  Helen jogged the first part of the summit trail. The gentle uphill slope was no more difficult than using an aerobic walker. She slowed when the switchbacks started, and by the time she reached the top she could feel the strain in her hips, legs, and lungs. Another bench awaited her, and without hesitation she sank onto it. She took a few minutes to rest and enjoy the spectacular view. She could see several of the islands and the Olympic Mountain Range. The water was a sapphire blue. She took more photos as she walked around the periphery, which had been framed with a wooden rail. The top of the mountain was a plateau of sorts, patches of rock and grass along with some shrubs and intermittent wild flowers. Although it wasn't manicured like the castle gardens, it had definitely been landscaped. Looking to the southeast, she noticed the boat she'd seen earlier. The divers were apparently still exploring the depths. She wondered briefly if they might be in the cave. Helen wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the caves extended all the way to the castle. That would be one way to get in without being detected. She’d look into the possibility later.

  Helen paused to examine a break in the railing. The upper pole was split and needed to be replaced. If someone leaned on it, they'd fall over the ledge for sure. Helen shuddered and took a step back. Her shoulders collided with a solid mass that propelled her forward.

  She shot through the broken railing and over the ledge.

  Chapter Twenty

  Helen wasn't sure how it happened. Perhaps it was an angel who righted her. Or perhaps it was gravity. That part didn't really matter. What did matter was that God's design of humans and the earth had just saved her life.

  Sometime during her free fall, Helen's rear end slammed into a vine maple that was growing out of the rocks. The trunk, only about two inches around, bent and tossed her off like a bucking bronco.

  Impulse, not rationale, caused her to grab the branch, which in turn interrupted her fall. Looking down, Helen was surprised to see the ground only about six feet below. If the terrain had been grassy and smooth, she'd have jumped. But the uneven, rocky ground looked unwelcome and dangerous.

  She clung to the branch thanking God and willing her heart to resume its normal rhythm. As her adrenaline rush subsided, her brain kicked in. The maple's root system seemed to be holding firm. Using the branch as one might use a rope in rock climbing, she backed off it until it bent far enough for her to get her feet against the cliff wall. Then hand over hand she let herself down, fighting limbs and leaves on her face and arms. Helen got to within a foot from the top of the tree, which was now the bottom, and stretched full out. She was still three feet or so from the ground. Helen sucked in a deep breath and let go. Three feet was not a great distance for a kid. For Helen it was enough to do some serious damage if she didn't land right. She bent her knees on landing to soften the blow and leaned toward the cliff wall.

  She'd done it. Shaken up and slightly battered, she looked up at the little tree that had saved her life. It was still swaying up and down like a wave good-bye.

  Now that she was safely on the ground, her knees buckled. Her teeth chattered and her hands began to shake. She collapsed on a rock, gulping in large chunks of air and willing the nausea to go away.

  She examined an angry, red scratch on her arm and brushed dirt off her knees. Her hips hurt, but other than a few scrapes, she'd escaped major injury. While she was delighted in her good fortune, she knew someone would not be. That someone had maliciously and purposefully pushed her off the cliff.

  Helen began to list possible suspects. Who knew where she and Claire had gone? Greg and Chad. Martha. Had they told any of the others? Was Fabian still on the island?

  She wondered briefly if Claire could have gone around the other side and given her a shove. But why would she? Why would anyone? The only explanation Helen could come up with was that Paddy had named her executor of his will and in that capacity she had become a threat. The entire scenario seemed irrational.

  When Helen recovered enough to walk, she set off in hopes of finding the trail. She came upon one after only a few minutes. Luckily it led back to where Claire was waiting.

  "That was fast." Claire scrambled to her feet.

  "I took a shortcut." Helen grabbed a water bottle out of the open pack.

  "What happened to you?" Claire reached up and removed a twig from Helen's hair. "Did you fall?"

  "Only about fifty feet." She tipped the bottle up and drank, then poured some on her face, letting it mingle with her sweat. She rubbed it around and down her neck.

  "My goodness, how did that happen?"

  "Someone pushed me." She capped the bottle, then patted her face dry with the bottom of her T-shirt. "Part of the railing was broken, and while I was stupid enough to be standing in front of it, someone shoved me over the cliff."

  "Oh, Helen. How awful. Are you hurt?"

  "Not seriously." She returned the bottle to the pack and lowered herself to the ground. "A tree broke my fall."

  "Thank goodness. You could have been killed." Claire's shock seemed genuine enough. Helen just wished she could be certain.

  Maybe she was getting paranoid, but she no longer trusted anyone except the sheriff and the RCMP. Not even they were above suspicion. "I think that was the idea."

  Claire glanced guiltily at the half-eaten power bar in her hand. "Do you want one? I was going to wait, but. .

  Helen shook her head. "I don't want anything except to get back to the castle and find out who tried to kill me."

  "This is crazy." Claire zipped up the backpack and put her arms through the straps. "Do you think it has something to do with your inheritance? If it does, Richard and I may be the next to go."

  "My inheritance? From Paddy? I doubt it." Helen fell into step beside Claire. "If he left me anything at all, it would be minimal. If the motive here is the inheritance, the killer would be after you and Richard, not me."

  "That's not quite true." Claire reached for Helen's hand and pulled her up.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I take it Dad didn't get a chance to tell you about the will."

  "That was planned for today, remember? All he told me was that he wanted me to be the executor." Helen drew her fingers through her hair in an effort to undo the mess the tree had made of it. "I just don't understand why that would be a problem."

  "It's not. Not for me, anyway. I don't think Richard was too pleased, but there isn't much
he can do about it."

  "Except get me out of the way."

  "You can't be serious. We both know he wouldn't have the strength to come clear out here."

  "He couldn't walk, maybe, but he wouldn't have to. There's a bench up there, and paved areas, flowers, and, of course, the fence. My guess is that there's a road going up there for maintenance vehicles and handicap access."

  "Yes, there is. Paddy wanted everyone to be able to enjoy the summit, and people can take the golf carts up the trail on the other side."

  "Well, I guess the next step is to find out what Richard has been doing for the past hour."

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Helen was angry at Paddy for dragging her into this mess. Angry at whoever tried to do away with her. Part of her wanted to leave the island immediately and never come back. Another part of her had no intention of leaving until she'd figured out what was going on. Putting up with the remodeling was nothing compared to being caught in a murder investigation, not knowing who was going to die next, and knowing very well it could be her. "Claire?"

  "Hmm."

  "The last thing I want to do is cause problems for you and Richard. I didn't ask for the job of executor and would gladly give it up. I mean, someone is obviously upset about it."

  "No, you shouldn't. It's what Dad wanted. He picked you to be the executor because you're the best suited. He's always treated you like a daughter, and you're fair and honest." She stopped. "What I'm trying to say is that Dad split the bulk of his estate between the three of us, you, me, and Richard. We're all to get equal portions. If my calculations are right, that should be about six million each in investments, plus whatever the remaining real estate is worth. That's what this meeting was all about. He was afraid Richard would contest the will and wanted to make his wishes known ahead of time."

  Helen's jaw dropped. "That changes the picture, doesn't it? If I'm out of the way, you and Richard each get half of eighteen million. Wow! I didn't realize Paddy was worth quite so much. That amount of money makes a pretty powerful motive."