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

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "Claire, after you've talked to Megan, see if you can rouse Martha and Sarah. I'm going to call the RCMP. I think we're far better off having the police here, and Chad seems the more reasonable choice."

  Patrick and Ted left the room. Claire seemed reluctant. "Please, Helen. No police," she whimpered.

  "I think Officer Powell will listen to what Fabian has to say and look at the evidence. If Fabian really has been in the passageways all this time, they'll be able to find evidence to cor­roborate his story."

  "It's all right, darling." Fabian wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I have nothing to hide."

  "But all the evidence against you and that detective. . .."

  "Helen's right. The police should be able to prove I was being held a prisoner. The ropes he used to tie me up with would still be there, and the trash I left. I'm an innocent man, Claire."

  Helen refrained from commenting. First of all, she wasn't absolutely convinced of the man's innocence. Second, if the evidence against him was strong enough, even if it had been planted, he could be found guilty. Prisons were full of people who supposedly had been framed.

  "I don't understand any of this," Fabian continued. "Someone is trying their best to implicate me. As I think back on it, it must have started soon after Claire and I got married. Remember that phone call you got from a woman claiming to be my wife, honey?"

  Claire nodded. "You said you'd never heard of the woman."

  "And I hadn't. I'd never been married before. You still believe me, don't you?"

  "I-I want to." She glanced at Helen and back to Fabian. "Yes." She set her jaw with determination and leaned against him. "Of course I do."

  He kissed her forehead.

  "You think this phone call may have been part of a plan to discredit you or set you up?" Helen asked.

  "It's possible. At the time I thought it was a case of mistaken identity. Maybe it has nothing to do with what's been going on here, but now I wonder."

  "So what happened? Did you meet this woman?"

  He glanced at Claire. "Yes. I arranged to meet her. But not until she'd called a second time. I wanted to see who she was and find out why she was making these ridiculous claims. I was afraid she might be trying to break up our marriage. I thought she might have been an old girlfriend or something."

  "You never told me that." Claire stepped away from him.

  "I was afraid to. I thought if you found out, you'd be upset. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you."

  "You should have told me." Claire looked as though she were going to cry. "How can I trust you if. . .."

  "Honey, nothing happened. I swear."

  Claire folded her arms. "Where have I heard that before?"

  Fabian closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Please don't let this hurt our relationship. I love you."

  "If anything is going to ruin our relationship, it would be your not being completely honest with me."

  "I'm trying to be."

  "I'm sure you are," Helen interjected, wanting to get back to the woman in question. "I know you two will need to talk more about the personal implications, but I'd like to know more about the circumstances. You say you met this woman?"

  "At the waterfront in Seattle. By the ferry dock. She seemed to recognize me, and before I could say a word, she came up and put her arms around me and kissed me."

  "Kissed you?" Claire sank onto the sofa and cradled her head in her hands.

  "I'd never seen her before in my life. I don't know why she did it. I haven't a clue. I pulled her arms away from my neck and asked her what she thought she was doing. She gave me a dynamite smile and made some lame excuse about thinking I was someone else. Then she turned around and walked away, just like that."

  "Strange. It almost sounds like a setup for blackmail." Helen paced across the floor and back. "Did you notice anyone taking photos?"

  He shook his head. "No one ever contacted me."

  "What did she look like?"

  He blew out a gust of air. "Beautiful. Long, dark brown hair, tall, her dress barely covered her. . ..." He glanced at Claire. "I don't remember much else." He frowned. "She had a mole, a small beauty mark just above the right corner of her lip."

  "And you never heard from her again."

  "Never." He reached over the back of the sofa and grasped Claire's shoulder. "A couple of weeks later someone broke into the house and took Claire's jewelry. The police were ready to arrest me."

  "Fortunately, he had an alibi," Claire said. "Like I told the police, Fabian would have no reason to take what was his."

  Helen raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you say you had a prenuptial agreement?"

  Claire chewed on her lower lip. "I. . .."

  "She does." Fabian hauled in an exaggerated breath. "There's something else. I didn't have an alibi. Claire lied to protect me. I told her she didn't have to do that."

  "They were going to arrest him, Helen. He didn't do it."

  "I see." Either Fabian was lying or someone had gone through a great deal of work to set him up for Paddy's murder. "If you didn't steal the jewelry, then who did? The police said it was an inside job."

  Fabian rubbed the back of his head. "I wish I knew. It's probably the same guy who stole Paddy's money from the safe that day and abducted me."

  Helen resumed pacing. All they'd accomplished so far was to muddy the waters even more. About the only thing she was fairly certain of was that the killer was a man. A very busy man. Or a team.

  "As I said before, we need to get everyone together."

  "We'll go round up the others," Fabian said. "You're right. We need to somehow get to the bottom of all this."

  "Good. I'll call Chad."

  She waited for them to leave, then made her way down to her bedroom.

  Several minutes later Helen gripped the receiver and released a long breath. "Chad . . ." She sank onto her bed. "I'm so glad I caught you."

  "Not hard at this time of the morning." He sounded groggy. "What do you need?"

  "I'm afraid Sheriff Stone has the wrong person."

  He made a soft chortling sound. "So what else is new?"

  "Officer Powell, we've found Fabian. The day he came out to see Paddy, he claims to have been attacked. He remembers going back to the mainland with Richard and Greg and driving away. He says he noticed his ring was missing and may have come back for it. At any rate, he has the injuries to back up his story. Says he's been locked up in the passageway the entire time."

  "Passageway? Is this a joke? There really is a secret passage?"

  "There is. You were right, you know. It's a perfect spot for smuggling contraband."

  "I knew I was on to something."

  "At any rate, we need to find out if Fabian was there the entire time like he says. I'm still not totally convinced. If he's telling the truth, he couldn't have killed the detective or Paddy."

  "Helen. There's something you need to know. Claire's car was found at the airport in long-term parking. There was a gun in the glove compartment and papers in the trunk. Fabian's prints are all over the stuff. It's the same gun that killed the detective."

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Oh, my." Helen swallowed hard. She'd just sent Claire off alone with him.

  Chad cleared his throat. "There's more. One of the reports found in the trunk of Trace Peterson's car had some photos attached to it. States in the report that the woman in those photos was Fabian's wife. There's also a photocopy of their marriage certificate. Pictures show him meeting and kissing a very attractive woman. In the last one she's walking away in a huff and he's looking like he'd like to get her back or kill her. Which is what he may have done."

  "I'm afraid I don't follow."

  "I saw the photos on Tiffany's desk yesterday and thought I recognized the woman from our files. Turns out she's a Jane Doe that turned up last week. Found in an alley in downtown Victoria. Died of an apparent drug overdose. They haven't been able to identify her."

  "How awfu
l. I suppose you think Fabian killed her."

  "Sure looks that way. In searching her apartment we found a marriage certificate and Fabian's phone number."

  Gathering her wits, she said, "Well, I admit I had my doubts about him, but not anymore."

  "You think he did it?"

  "Absolutely not. I can't believe anyone would be that sloppy. He wouldn't leave the files and incriminating photos behind. His story is that the woman contacted him, met him, kissed him, probably for a photographer, and then left, saying she'd made a mistake. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to build a substantial frame around Fabian."

  "Maybe.'

  "It makes perfect sense. Frame him, then make it look as though he disappeared. I don’t understand why the killer didn’t kill Fabian right away instead of keeping him here at the castle. Unless he wanted to make us all believe Fabian had run away and absconded with all the jewelry and money he could get his hands on Which is exactly what we thought. He probably didn't want to kill him until he d achieved his purpose. '

  "I see where you're going. Fabian would eventually end up dead and the police would wrap up the case. With that much evidence there wouldn't be any need to investigate further. A matter of taking the easy way out, which I'm afraid happens all too often"

  "I hope for Claire's sake I'm right. She never stopped believing in him."

  "Yes, but let's not forget the possibility that Fabian himself may have set all this up."

  Helen shook her head. "I doubt that. All I can say is I'm glad I'm retired and don't have to sort it all out."

  He chuckled. "You don't fool me for a minute. You won't rest until every detail is straightened out. It's in your blood Am I right?"

  "Maybe."

  They spoke for a few more minutes, then hung up, with Chad promising to get there within the hour.

  Helen glanced at her watch. They should all be gathering downstairs by now. It would be light soon. Marcie was still missing. Sandra still hadn't called.

  "Helen!" Claire rushed into the room, interrupting her thoughts. "Peter's gone and I'm afraid he's taken Megan with him."

  "What?"

  "It's true. He's taken the Celtic Moon."

  It took Helen all of ten minutes to solve the mystery of the missing duo. The answer came in the form of a hastily scribbled note left on the dining room table, where they'd be sure to see it when they came down for breakfast.

  Baby coming—gone to hospital, Peter. His signature trailed down the page.

  Taking the note into the drawing room where Fabian was consoling Claire, Helen said, "You can stop worrying." She handed the note over. "Megan must have gone into labor last night."

  Claire jumped up, nearly knocking Fabian off the arm of the couch. "Why didn't they wake me?"

  "Perhaps they tried and couldn't find you. We were up in Mary's room for quite some time."

  "That must be it." She put her arms around Helen. "I'm going to be a grandmother." Her excited gaze drifted to Fabian. She looked up at him hesitantly. "I know you're too young to be a grandfather, but. . .."

  "Claire." He leaned over and kissed her, effectively silencing her objections. His broad smile and warm blue eyes released the rest of Helen's suspicions. This man truly loved Claire. He slipped an arm around Claire's waist. "I'm old enough. I'll admit it took me a while to get used to the idea, but now I can't wait. Let's go welcome our grandchild into the world."

  "Helen?" Claire came back to her and took both hands in hers. "Would you like to come with us?"

  "Yes, but I can't. Chad should be here any moment. I should wait for him."

  "Oh. Do we need to wait too?"

  "No. If he needs to talk to you, we'll know where to find you. Which hospital?"

  "Sisters of Mercy, I imagine. I'll have my cell phone. I'll call you if it's different." Her eyes brightened again. "I'm going to be a grandmother." She giggled, then choked back tears. "Dad won't get to see the baby."

  Fabian drew her out of the room. "He'll be with us in spirit, honey. Knowing Paddy, he's up there with the angels, cheering and dancing an Irish jig."

  Claire smiled and glanced back at Helen. "Come join us when you can."

  "I will. Call me when you hear anything."

  When they'd gone, Helen went into the kitchen intent on getting a cup of tea. Martha punched down a mound of bread and spread flour over it.

  "Where's Hillary?" Helen secured a cup and filled it with water from the teakettle on the stove.

  "I sent her back to bed. Poor woman's so worked up over what's happening, she can hardly see straight."

  "She's been through a lot."

  "More'n that." Martha stopped kneading and leveled an annoyed gaze at her. "I know you suspect she might have been the one to kill Paddy. Lord knows she blames herself well enough. Thing is, Helen, that woman loved Paddy O'Donnell." She punched the bread again. "She's alone in the world now. Not only grieving about him, but wondering what she's to do with the rest of her life. And now, with the child missing, she's beside herself."

  "I wonder if it would help for me to talk to her." Helen lifted the lid on the rosewood tea box and selected an Earl Grey tea bag.

  "Might help so long as you don't go bullying her."

  "Have you seen Patrick and Ted?" Her plans to gather everyone into one place had failed miserably with the news that Peter and Megan were gone.

  "They came in here a few minutes ago. I told them about the baby and they took off again. Patrick said he was going to try to find Marcie." She glanced at the clock on the oven. "I suspect the Search and Rescue team will be here shortly to help."

  "Did Ted and Patrick go into the passageways?"

  Martha frowned. Something akin to fear flitted into her eyes. "What do you mean?" She rolled the dough into a neat ball and set it into a bowl to rise, then washed her hands.

  Helen told her about the elaborate network of passages throughout the castle. "But you already knew about them, didn't you?"

  "Why would you say a thing like that?"

  Of course. Helen chided herself for not thinking of it earlier. "Your husband worked on the remodeling, didn't he?"

  "What of it?"

  Helen had no idea what she was unearthing. The woman looked like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. Martha was the last person she'd suspect of killing Paddy. Her husband though was another matter.

  "Did Paddy know about the tunnels and the passageways?"

  "I imagine he did." Clearly agitated now, Martha dried her hands on a towel and opened a drawer. Half a second later she turned around to face Helen, clutching a butcher knife in her hand.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Uncle Paddy didn't know about the passageways, did he?" Helen set her tea on the counter. Years of training and a hefty dose of adrenaline drew Helen's body and mind into a fight mode. Though she didn't move or show alarm, she was ready. She felt no fear in facing this adversary, however. One strike would knock the knife away. A back arm twist would render the woman harmless. She'd thrown full-sized men to the floor in less time than it took to tie a shoe.

  Martha glared at her, then dropped her gaze to the knife. A horrified expression stole across her face as she set it on the butcher block. "I told him not to do it." Tossing a misty look at Helen, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out two large chickens.

  "Your husband," Helen said in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact tone. Her lungs deflated in relief.

  "Bill's a good man, but the temptation was too much. He and Luis. . .." She stopped. "I've already said too much." She whacked off a chicken leg with such fervor, Helen took a step back and collided with the counter.

  "Let me guess." Trying to look casual, Helen picked up her tea and took another sip. "They decided to use the tunnel to smuggle contraband across the border. Paddy found out, so they killed him."

  "No." She spun around and waved the knife in the air. "They didn't kill him. They. . .."

  The kitchen door opened and Chad Powell strode in with ano
ther RCMP officer behind him. "I see you've wrapped up the case for us, Helen." He cast a smile in her direction, then introduced the other officer as Jerry Smith. Smith nodded and straightened into a position reminiscent of a palace guard.

  Martha sliced off another piece of chicken. Her shoulders slumped over the birds. "I told him not to get involved. He's a good man."

  Chad took a step toward her. "I'm sure he is, Martha. I'm afraid I'll have to bring you in for questioning." He turned to the other officer, then to Helen. "We'll have the Coast Guard pick up Luis and Bill. Saw them fishing out on the east shore near the caves as I was coming in. I have a hunch they were doing more than fishing, eh?"

  "They weren't smuggling in drugs or liquor or anything like that." Martha washed her hands again and mopped up her tears with the corner of her apron, which she then untied and set on the counter. "Just those cute little stuffed animals. Nothing dangerous. What could be so bad about that?"

  "Stuffed animals?" A wry smile crept over Helen's face as she remembered the conversation she'd had with Claire the day they'd arrived.

  Martha nodded. "Oh, I know they were counterfeit. I read about it in the paper. I told Bill it was the same as stealing, but he said the company wouldn't go broke on what little they made."

  "Little?" Helen shook her head.

  "They broke the law, Mrs. Briggs," Chad said. "Smuggling contraband across the border is an international offense."

  Helen walked down to the docks with the RCMP officers and Martha. She should have felt elated but didn't. The poor woman was openly weeping now. She'd been arrested and charged as an accomplice. Who could blame her? Her family had just been torn apart.

  "Mrs. Bradley." Martha stopped and turned toward her once she'd boarded the boat. "Could you see to Sarah? Maybe Hillary could take care of her until I can arrange something. Tell her— tell her. . .."

  "I'll take care of it," Helen assured her. "Do you have an attorney?"

  "N-no."

  "I'll take care of that too. Do you have a preference?"

  "I have no money."