"I do."
"Thank you. Yes, in that case you may as well call Mr. Curtis. Paddy says he's one of the best. I've always had a soft spot for Greg."
"I'll call him right away"
Chad paused before getting on the boat. "You're retaining a lawyer for her and her husband?"
"Only for her. I figure the smugglers can fend for themselves. I have a hunch they've managed to put away a nice little nest egg. Go easy on her, okay? It's got to be tough carrying a secret like that."
"She's an accomplice."
"She's his wife."
"Yes." His gaze left hers to scan the horizon. "Amazing what one will do for love."
"Love has nothing to do with it."
"Right you are." He tipped his hat and thanked her again for her help. "This is a break we've been looking for." He spoke softly so Martha couldn't hear. "The smuggling ring was a big one. And they were handling a lot more than toys."
He shook her hand, then climbed aboard.
Helen watched the boat pull away before heading up the hill. Her watch said five-thirty. The day was just beginning, yet she'd already put in three and a half hours. The dusky rose sky promised a clear morning but did little to erase the dark clouds still hovering over her heart. The Search and Rescue team from San Juan Island would arrive soon. They would search every square inch of Paradise for Marcie. Hopefully they'd find her. Helen would help, of course, but first she'd eat and talk to Sarah and Hillary. Then she'd track down Patrick and Ted. As she walked, she offered thanks for the resolution of the investigation and prayed for the little girl's safety. She hoped Marcie hadn't somehow stumbled onto the smugglers. Who knew how far they'd go to protect their secrets?
Helen felt drained and fixed herself another cup of tea, hoping it would revive her. She had just set eggs on the stove to boil and placed a slice of bread in the toaster when she heard a strange high-pitched sound that seemed to be coming from one of the cupboards in the pantry. She opened a long cupboard, then closed it again. The sound she realized was a song, "Danny Boy," a tune she had sung to her own children when they were young.
"Oh Danny boy. . ." the song went on. A child's voice. Marcie!
"Marcie?" Helen swung open several more cupboard doors. "Is that you, honey? It's Helen. Where are you?"
The singing stopped, then, "Help me. I'm stuck in the box and I can't get out."
A box? The dumbwaiter! Helen pressed the button to open the door and leaned inside. The cavern was black and she saw no sign of the child. Apparently the small car hadn't been able to sustain her weight. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm hungry." Her voice broke.
"Hold on, sweetie. I'll get you out."
Helen made her way down the basement stairs, chiding herself for not paying more attention to the broken elevator last night.
She groped along the wall at the bottom of the stairs for the light switch, trying to orient herself as to where the opening to the dumbwaiter would be. She noted the monitors and security system in the main room and moved into a storage area lined with shelves but saw no sign of the dumbwaiter. It must not have extended to the basement. Either that or it had been eliminated in the remodeling. "Marcie! Can you hear me?"
The sound was muffled and seemed to come from behind the wall lined with shelves. There was no way to reach her there. Helen raced back up the stairs and leaned into the opening again. "I'm going for help to get you out. I won't be long."
"Please hurry. I have to go to the bathroom."
"What are you doing?" Hillary waddled in and went straight to the coffeepot.
"Marcie's in the dumbwaiter. The rope broke and the car fell into the basement. Can you stay here and talk with her? I've got to get help."
"Oh my. The poor child. She must be terrified. Of course I'll stay. You should have plenty of help. The Search and Rescue people just pulled in."
Helen went to call Sandra again while the rescue team was preparing to rescue Marcie from her prison. Sandra answered on the third ring.
"Thank goodness you're there. I was ready to report you as a missing person. We've been calling since dinner last night."
"I was with Richard until late. When I came home I crashed. What's wrong? Oh no—it's not Marcie? Is she sick?"
Helen explained that she'd been missing all night. "Found her this morning in the dumbwaiter. She was singing."
"Thank God she's all right. You must think I'm a terrible mother. I'm dressing as we speak." She hesitated. "I should be there by ten."
"There's no need for you to come to the island. I'm just glad I was able to reach you. Patrick's here. He'll can bring Marcie to Anacortes and you can meet him there."
"I will. Thank you."
"Sandy—how is Richard?"
"He's in the hospital. He collapsed while the sheriff was questioning him. Greg is furious. He's trying to arrange bail. Says Richard shouldn't have been arrested in the first place."
"I agree. Hopefully when they get things sorted out, they'll let him go."
Helen told her about the smuggling ring and how Martha, Bill, and Luis had been arrested.
"How awful for her. I must say I'm glad. That gets Richard off the hook, doesn't it? Do you think they killed Paddy?"
"I'm not sure."
"Is Claire there?< Sandra asked. “There's something I should tell her."
"No, she and Fabian went to be with Megan and Peter at the hospital. You have a new grandniece or nephew by now."
"That's wonderful.” She paused. “Did you say Fabian?"
She told her about Fabian's being knocked out and tied up and left in the tunnel.
"Claire must be ecstatic to have found him again. She really loves the guy. Unfortunately, the police are looking for him."
"Yes, well, I think he's been set up. By the way," Helen added, "do you know where Greg is? I left a message on his answering machine. I'd like to talk to him about representing Martha. Is he planning to come back to the island today?"
"I'm not sure. He came to the hospital with us and left around eight."
"Well, I'm sure he'll show up out here. He left his things. It would be nice if he'd call, though."
"Yes. I'm sure he will. He's quite upset by all of this. He's like a member of the family, you know. He thinks Fabian killed the detective and Paddy I tend to agree, Helen. Greg found out that Fabian has completely cleaned out Claire's accounts."
"I see." A heavy lump began to grow in the pit of Helen's stomach. How long had Claire known about the missing funds? She'd mentioned losing some money, but not all of it. "Everything?"
"Apparently so. Greg tried to get her to close the accounts earlier, but she refused. Now she's paying big time."
Yes, well, at least she has her inheritance. Helen left her thought unspoken.
Sandra thanked her again and hung up, leaving Helen to go back to watch the rescue operation and wonder how she was going to manage to get all the mismatched pieces of this bizarre and never-ending puzzle together. She sighed. With any luck at all the police will untangle it, and they'll find that Luis and Bill were responsible for everything, she assured herself. Neither Helen's heart, nor her head, believed that. Nor did she want to believe that her cousin could have had any part in the death of her father.
It was nearly an hour before they could reach Marcie and lift the little girl to safety. After they checked her for injuries, they placed her in her brother's waiting arms. She was bruised, tired, hungry, thirsty, and cold, but otherwise healthy.
"How did you manage to get yourself in this mess?" her brother asked.
"I saw Mom take some stuff out of the dumbwaiter in Daddy's and her room, and it looked like a neat hiding place." Her lower lip quivered. "I didn't mean to break it. I was just scared."
"Why were you scared?" Helen asked.
She lowered her head and peered at Helen through her thick lashes. "If I tell you, do you promise not to tell Mom? She'd be mad. I'm not supposed to go up there."
"You mean Mary's room?"
&
nbsp; She nodded. "I was playing with my Barbie doll and there was a noise in the wall. I got scared 'cause I thought the ghost was coming to get me, so I went in the box."
"How did you get it closed?"
She shrugged. "Just pushed the button outside and pulled my arms in really quick." She looked as though she was about to cry again. "It started going down real slow and jerky. Then it stopped. I wanted to get out, but it wouldn't move so I wiggled it. Then it started again and went too fast and then it hit the ground." She rubbed her behind. "Hurt my bottom. The door wouldn't open and I got scared." She wrapped her arms around Patrick's neck, squeezing her doll between them. "Please don't tell Mom. She'll be mad."
"I won't tell her," Patrick said. "But I have a feeling you will."
"Where is Mom?"
"She's on her way to the marina in Anacortes. She'll meet us there."
Patrick and Ted left with Marcie at 9:00 a.m. The Search and Rescue team left with them. After all the flurry it felt good to Helen to sit out on the veranda with Hillary.
"Looks like the ordeal is over. Poor Martha. What a burden for her to carry." Hillary broke off a piece of scone. "Nothing to do now, I suppose, but put Paddy to rest and move on."
"What will you do now?" Helen asked.
Hillary shrugged. "Travel, maybe. Paddy said he was leaving me a nice nest egg." She looked guiltily at Helen. "I didn't ask."
"I would expect him to leave you more than a little. You were so much more than a nurse and housekeeper. More like a wife."
She closed her eyes as they brimmed over with tears. "I loved him."
Helen patted her hand. "I know."
Hillary dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.
"You're welcome to stay on," Helen said.
"You may not want me to when you hear what I have to say."
Helen frowned. "What?"
"I have a confession."
Helen set her cup on the glass table and looked toward the dock. "Confession?" she repeated.
"Yes. I put the rose in Paddy's room that night."
"I see." Helen let her gaze drift back to Hillary's. She read remorse, grief.
"I . . . I'm the one who plays the music."
Chapter Twenty Eight
And did you kill Paddy?" Helen asked, amazed that she could still speak.
Hillary gasped, sending Helen a look of horror. "Of course not. How could you think that?"
"Why did you put one of my roses in Paddy's room?"
She clasped her hands. "It was Paddy's idea to keep the ghost stories alive. He'd fixed up the gramophone with electricity and a remote so the music could be played when he wanted. He asked me to keep it a secret and to help him carry on the myth. I agreed. After all, every castle needs a ghost."
"Seems to me the stories would have been enough. What about the rose?" Helen asked again.
"Paddy asked me to bring him one of the roses. I'd told him about the reaction you had when Sarah took the first one."
"She told you?"
"Yes."
"How could you lie to me like that? You almost had me believing in ghosts."
"That was the idea. He wanted to convince you. He'd planned to tell you the truth about Mary's ghost eventually. It was really all in fun. . .
"When did you take the rose to him? The sheriff said the security video showed you going in only once to bring him his milk and medications and that Richard was the last one to go
"I don't understand that. When I left him, I went straight up to your room, took the rose, and came back. I had to wait until you and Richard were done talking to him, though. When Richard left, I took in the rose and set it on the mantel."
Helen frowned, trying to make sense of Hillary's story. "All that business about blaming Mary?"
"I didn't know what to do. I was afraid they'd think I killed him, seeing as I was the last one in the room."
"So Paddy was alive after Richard left."
"Alive and in good spirits."
"But your visit didn't show up on the video tape. Which means the security system was disarmed somehow."
"I didn't do anything like that."
"Why didn't you tell the sheriff this when she arrested Richard?"
"I was afraid. Besides, I knew they'd eventually let Richard go. Anyone with a brain could tell the man was too sick to hurt a fly."
"But you accused him. You told me on the phone you thought he was the one who made those attempts on Paddy's life."
"That was before I knew he had cancer. He and Paddy were arguing and. . ..
"You jumped to conclusions." Helen leaned her elbows on the table. "Something isn't right. Richard didn't kill Paddy. You say he was alive when you left him. Did Paddy play the music at two in the morning or did you?"
"He did. I took the remote and the rose to my room the next morning after you and the family left his room. I knew he wouldn't want everybody knowing the music wasn't really Mary. I don't know why I played the music last night. I couldn't sleep. I guess because Paddy would have and done so." She started crying again.
"Oh, Hillary." Helen shook her head in exasperation. She was angry at being deceived by her uncle and Hill, yet at the same time was filled with compassion for the woman. "Why don't you go lie down. We can talk later."
"No." She sniffed and blew her nose in a tissue. "They'll all be here tomorrow for the funeral service. I-I'll feel better working."
Hillary pushed back her chair. "Think I'll go wake Sarah. She needs to know about her folks." She paused. "On second thought, maybe it would be best to let her sleep. She plumb wore herself out last night looking for Marcie."
"I think letting her sleep is a good idea. Personally, I don't relish telling her."
Hillary gathered up their dishes. "You might want to get some rest yourself."
Helen ran a hand through her hair. "I will, but first I think I'll swim a few laps. I'm too wired to sleep. Maybe a swim and a soak in a Jacuzzi will help."
The two women went back inside, Hillary to the kitchen and Helen to her room, where she donned a swimsuit, then called J.B. When he didn't answer, she left a message telling him the case was wrapped up. Even as she said the words she knew in her gut that wasn't quite true.
Five minutes later she dove into the Olympic-sized pool. The cool water felt like heaven. She swam five laps, then moved to a nearby Jacuzzi, allowing the warm water and luxurious surroundings to soothe her troubled mind. Why couldn't she let it rest? Hillary and Paddy were responsible for Mary's ghostly appearances. Bill and Luis had been arrested for smuggling, and there was a strong likelihood that Paddy had discovered their secret. That certainly would provide the police with a motive for murder. They may well have stolen the money from the safe and made the attempts on his life as well.
It all fit if you didn't look at the gambling connection and the detective's death. And that poor woman who'd played the part of Fabian's wife. It made no sense whatsoever that the smugglers would try to frame Fabian.
Somewhat restored, Helen hurried back to her room to shower and dress. She donned a pair of khaki shorts and a white knit top, and added the gold chain necklace and a tennis bracelet she'd gotten as a Mother's Day gift from her grandchildren. It had all their birthstones in it. She smiled, missing them and missing J.B. and Kate and Jason. She thought of the possibility of inviting them all to the castle. It was, after all, a third hers now.
She sighed and pulled her mind back to the investigation. The RCMP had their man, to be precise, two men and a woman. The sheriff had Richard. He made a good suspect with his foray into gambling. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in crossing him off her suspect list. If you took out the smuggling and the attempts on her life and Paddy's life, Richard could have killed Paddy and the detective and framed Fabian. No, he couldn't. There was the matter of hitting Fabian over the head and dragging him into the dungeons. She really needed to go down there and have a look at it herself. Maybe she would. Ted and Patrick had left the door in Mary's room open t
o give the police access. She suspected Chad would be back soon to investigate that. Perhaps Sheriff Stone would as well, since he'd mentioned bringing her up to date.
Rubbing her forehead, she picked up the pad she'd been using earlier. She tore out her old crossed-through notes and dropped them into the wastebasket. There were too many detours. Too many rabbit trails. Too many things to think about. The killer had been sending them in every direction possible except the one that led to him or her.
She needed to corral her thoughts and make some sense of the chaos. The killer had a keen, devious mind as well as a fit body.
She quickly jotted down several names and considered the likelihood of slipping them into the mode of killer. Fabian. Maybe. He did fit the profile that was beginning to form in her gray matter. A sociopath, perhaps someone who was obsessive about detail. Someone who had the ability to reason and reason well. The killer was a man, she decided. Though he might have an accomplice, someone who might benefit from Paddy's death. She thought back to the detective. He had most likely been killed because he found damning evidence against someone. Had that same person killed Paddy to silence him as well?
Memories of her last day with Paddy surfaced, bringing tears and a renewed determination to find proof as to who actually killed him and why. He'd asked her to look into the matter.
Someone had made several attempts on his life. She rubbed at the frown lines on her brow. Had the killer tried and failed? Or were the attempts another part of the scheme to frame Fabian?
On a new sheet of paper, she wrote only the names of those she felt compelled to focus on.
Claire's name popped into her mind again, but not as a suspect. Much of what had happened centered around her. Her jewelry and money had been stolen, her faith in Fabian shaken by the woman who claimed to be Fabian's wife.
Helen was beginning to seriously question whether the motive was money. If not money, then what? Perhaps she was just going down another rabbit trail, but it was one she wanted to take a bit further. She doubted Patrick or Sandra would care much about Claire's love life. So who did? Not Ted and certainly not Peter. She stared at the list, going over each one, then put a line through Patrick's and Sandra's names.
A Haunting Refrain: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 4) Page 23
