When Shadows Fall: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 5)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  "I almost didn't come," Helen said.

  "Well, I'm glad you did. The water's hot. Did you still want some tea?"

  "Yes." Helen followed her through the entry. "In fact I can't think of anything I'd like better. Earl Grey, if you have it."

  "I'm sure I do. Why don't you come with me into the kitchen. We can talk in there without anyone disturbing us."

  Helen settled into the straight-backed wooden chair with woven seat at the kitchen table and watched Eleanor pour the already-hot water into cups.

  "Where are Brian and Nancy?" Helen asked.

  "I suspect Nancy's in her room. She and Melissa were going to play Scrabble. Brian hasn't been home." Her tone indicated disapproval.

  "I take it you're not too happy with him."

  She brought the cups to the table, then went back to get a wooden tea chest. "Disappointed."

  Helen chose her tea from a wide assortment and ripped off the wrapper. "He seemed quite angry at the restaurant."

  Eleanor scowled. "He got in a huff over something I said. I can't remember what. It was my fault. I thought going out might cheer us up. I guess no one, especially Brian, wanted to be cheered. I'm sure he's upset about losing his father. They didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. In fact, the last time Brian was here, they had argued over something. I'm not sure what it was. Ethan was disappointed in Brian's life-style. When I spoke with the pastor earlier today, he suggested that maybe Brian is feeling some guilt over that last visit. There had been no time for them to reconcile."

  "How sad," Helen mused.

  "At any rate, I didn't ask you here to talk about Brian." Eleanor reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a white standard-sized envelope. Setting it on the table, she rested her hand on it. The stones in her rings sparkled under the artificial light. "I wanted to ask your advice."

  "My advice?" Helen dunked the bag into the water several times.

  "You see, it's rather a delicate situation. I was going through some of Ethan's things looking for burial clothes when I found this." She pushed it across the table. "I'm still not sure what to make of it. Do you think it's real?"

  Helen examined the envelope. There was no address or postmark. Only Ethan's name, handwritten in the center and, at the right edge, a logo depicting a pastel drawing of Rosie's Victorian house and the caption Past Times with the address. Helen pulled out the contents and unfolded the papers. A photo of Alex fell out, identical to the one Helen had found on Rosie's dresser. On top was a letter with no date. To Ethan from Alex. The second paper was a copy of Alex's birth certificate. Helen turned her attention back to the letter. In it Alex explained how he'd come to find Rosie. He then wrote:

  I've been searching for a long time and couldn't believe my luck in finally locating Rosie and now you. I don't expect anything from you. I just want you to know that you are my birth father. I know you already have a family, and I will understand if you don't want me in your life.

  All I ask is that we have a chance to meet. Your son, Alex.

  Helen looked up at Eleanor and said, "This must have come as quite a shock."

  "Quite." Eleanor closed her eyes. "You were close to Rosie. Did you know?"

  "Not until today."

  "He's the one who's been arrested for Ethan's death, isn't he?"

  "Yes." Helen sipped at her tea.

  "Do you believe Alex is really Ethan's son?"

  "I'm not sure how to answer that. If the birth certificate is authentic, then yes, Rosie and Ethan are his parents. Rosie says the dates are right."

  "Is she sure it's Ethan's child? She didn't list a birth father."

  “She's sure. They dated in high school."

  "I know." Eleanor picked up the photo and examined it more closely. "He does favor Ethan, doesn't he?"

  "Yes, I noticed it right off." Helen puzzled over Eleanor's calm. "Do Nancy and Brian know?"

  "I haven't told them." Eleanor set the photo down and concentrated on the contents of the tea box, then made a selection. "I thought it might upset them too much"

  "You'll have to tell them eventually. Rosie indicated that Ethan planned to tell you and them."

  "Did he? That's good to know. I'll tell them after the funeral." Eleanor folded her arms around her waist and stared at a spot on the table.

  "You don't seem too upset about the news."

  "I've had time to process it. I couldn't believe it at first. I was furious and felt certain it was some sort of con. Now that I've had some time to adjust, I think it's probably true. Rosie and Ethan were very much in love back then. It's just wish Ethan had told me. He never said a word. Not one word."

  "Ethan didn't know until a day or so before his trip. Perhaps he meant to tell you when he returned," Helen said.

  "But he didn't get the chance. I suppose he was afraid of what my reaction might be. But I would've understood. I knew he and Rosie dated in high school. When she left, he was heart­broken. I never dreamed she left because she was pregnant. If I'd known that, I'd . . . well, I doubt things would have worked out the way they did. Ethan would have married her. I knew he loved Rosie. But after she left and he realized she wasn't coming back, he decided to get on with his life." Eleanor looked away. "He eventually grew to love me too."

  "I'm sure he did." Helen blew ripples across the surface of her tea, wondering whether or not to bring up the issue of Rosie and Ethan's affair.

  "Well." Eleanor straightened and seemed to gather strength as she inhaled. "We can't relive the past, can we? It's best to pick up the pieces and move on."

  "That's not as easy as it sounds."

  "Helen." Eleanor leaned forward. "I would like your advice. I'm not sure what to do about Alex."

  "What do you mean?" Helen set her cup down.

  "As Ethan's son, Alex has a right to part of his father's estate. I know Ethan would have wanted to include him in his will."

  Had she heard right? Helen had expected outrage or denial, but not acceptance. Certainly not acceptance. "Eleanor, I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. Are you serious about giving Alex a portion of the inheritance? The man is being held as a suspect in a double homicide."

  "Apparently they have the wrong man. I went to see him today, you know."

  "No," Helen gasped. "I didn't know."

  "After I found the letter. I felt I should meet him. We talked for a long time and, Helen, that young man did not kill Ethan."

  Helen couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped. And it took several seconds before she could engage it again. "You actually went to see him?"

  "Well, he is my stepson. I wanted to see for myself. To be sure. He told me he'd lied about killing Ethan because he wanted to protect Rosie. I believe him."

  "If you already knew, why did you ask me about him?"

  "I wanted another opinion." Eleanor reached across the table to take the envelope and papers back.

  "Mine? Wouldn't it be better to talk to Brian and Nancy about it? They have a right to know."

  "And what do you think their response would be?" Eleanor shook her head. "No, I'm doing the right thing. Of course, I've asked the medical examiner to do a paternity test, to find out if Alex really is Ethan's son. And if he is, there's only one thing to do."

  She offered a half smile. "I've made up my mind. Brian and Nancy are not going to be happy about my decision. I know it's terrible for a mother to say negative things about her own chil­dren, but they are both too selfish and spoiled. It's my fault as much as Ethan's. We gave them everything. Unfortunately, we didn't teach them enough about getting through life's problems. Not that they're bad, you understand. Neither of them was ever into drugs or illegal activity of any kind." She glanced at Helen, then focused on her cup. "Though Nancy has been drinking too much of late. At any rate, I don't intend to tell them about Alex until I've taken care of the details. They'll find out when the will is read. They won't be happy, but by that time it will be too late."

  "Too late?" Helen echoed. "Are you plann
ing to change Ethan's will?"

  "Oh, goodness, no. Ethan's estate was to be divided equally between his children. I'm going to see to it that Alex is included."

  "That's very generous of you."

  "Not generous, Helen. I'm not doing this out of a kind heart. It's more a matter of doing what's right. It's what Ethan would have wanted." Eleanor's right hand fluttered, obviously dismissing the subject. "There's something else I want to discuss with you."

  Helen didn't know if she could take any more surprises. "It's getting quite late. Maybe we could save it—"

  "Nonsense. You need to finish your tea. Besides, this won't take but a minute."

  Helen lifted her cup and drew in a long swallow of the luke-warm brew in a salute. "All right."

  "Good." Eleanor scooted her chair closer to the table. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but. . .." She paused and settled a concerned expression on Helen. "It's about Rosie."

  Helen tensed. "What about Rosie?"

  "I know she's a good friend, but after talking to Alex and Joe, I wonder if you haven't developed a blind spot."

  "Look, Eleanor, I think I know where you're going with this. You think because Alex confessed in order to protect his mother that Rosie actually might have. . .."

  "Killed Ethan," Eleanor finished. "Yes, I do."

  "That's crazy. Rosie would never hurt anyone."

  "Joe told me she pulled a gun on you yesterday when you went to tell her about Ethan. Now I ask you, why would she do that?"

  "She was afraid Alex might have been involved. She needed time to sort things out."

  "Doesn't that seem like a strange reaction to you? I'm sorry, Helen, but I just don't buy it. If I had been in her shoes, I certainly wouldn't have pulled a gun on my best friend and run

  away. Not if I were innocent. Would you?"

  "No, but Rosie wasn't thinking clearly. And in her mind, I probably posed a threat."

  "In what way? You certainly weren't going to arrest her. You're no longer a police officer. But you are her friend. How could she behave so outrageously toward you?"

  "She was frightened. When I told her about the murder weapon being her letter opener, she panicked." Helen had no idea why she was so adamantly defending Rosie.

  "Of course she panicked, because she'd been found out. If she were innocent, why would she be afraid? And why would she automatically suspect her own son? I know the authorities look closely at the family in these cases, but never for a moment have I questioned whether or not Nancy or Brian had anything to do with their father's death. I wouldn't even consider such a thing."

  Why had Rosie been so quick to suspect Alex? Helen wondered. Anyone could have walked off with the letter opener.

  "Then there's the money," Eleanor continued. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that Ethan would pay her such a large amount? He certainly didn't buy that many books. And as far as I know, he wasn't planning to purchase her store."

  "Joe told you about the money?" That seemed odd. Joe wasn't ordinarily so free with information, especially not during an investigation.

  Eleanor sighed impatiently, like one might do when explaining a math problem to a difficult student. "No, Alex did. He said Rosie didn't want the money and tried to give it back. I don't believe that. After all, she deposited it."

  "Rosie explained all that to me. When Ethan refused to take the check back, she deposited it and wrote a check to Alex for the same amount." As Helen spoke, she wondered about Rosie's motives, her thoughts echoing Eleanor's next question.

  "But if Rosie really didn't want the money, why didn't she just tear up the check?"

  "Maybe she thought, as you do, that Alex was entitled to a share of Ethan's estate."

  "I could understand that. But there's more. You see, Helen, I found something else while I was going through Ethan's things."

  "I'm listening."

  "Ethan had a personal checkbook. One that's separate from the account we have together and the one for his business. He used it for miscellaneous expenses. There were two checks written out to Rosie. The first for one hundred thousand, written a little over a week ago. The second was written last Thursday, the day he left on his trip. Helen, it was for five hundred thousand dollars."

  Helen's insides bunched into a gigantic knot. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely. I'd show you the check register, but Joe insisted on keeping it as evidence."

  "Both made out to Rosie?" Helen moved her eyes across the table, onto the doily, and up to Eleanor's face. She'd expected to see a smug look, an I-told-you-so look. She found neither. If anything, Eleanor seemed as disturbed as Helen felt.

  "I couldn't believe it either," Eleanor went on, "but there it was in black and white. Now, Ethan may have felt remorse and guilt over what happened to Rosie, but I doubt he'd have parted with that much money. As much as I hate to say it, I'm afraid Rosie may have been blackmailing my husband."

  Chapter Twenty Three

  There was no point in arguing with Eleanor. She'd made up her mind. Rosie was an adulteress, a blackmailer, and a coldblooded killer. There was simply no other explanation. And no reason to look further for the murderer.

  Helen couldn't entirely dispute Eleanor's logic. Not that Eleanor noticed Helen's lack of support. She said her piece, then dropped the matter as though she'd suddenly run out of steam. Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment and, in the time it would take to change a CD, began talking about the arrangements for the funeral.

  "I'm anxious to have it over with." She ran her fingers over the beige-and-pink place mat. "I suppose that sounds brash and uncaring, at least that's what Nancy accuses me of being. I feel as though I'm in some kind of twilight zone."

  "I can understand that.'' Helen had experienced a similar feeling with Ian's death. "What with the investigation into the bombing and getting the officials in Beirut to release his body, Ian's funeral was delayed for six weeks after we learned of his death."

  "Six weeks! That must have been unbearable."

  "Unsettling. Somehow I kept thinking there had been a mistake and that he'd walk through the door at any moment. He didn't, of course. When a loved one dies, it's important to have closure. I couldn't really accept his death. Even now, there are times . . ."

  "Yes. That's how I feel. Like it can't be true. And it's all been a terrible nightmare." Eleanor rubbed her forehead. "I hate having to wait like this."

  When she raised her head, there were tears in her eyes. "Have you any idea how long it will be before Dr. Fisher can release Ethan's body for burial?"

  "I'm not sure." Helen shoved her chair back. "I should go. I promised George I'd see him at the hospital."

  Eleanor frowned. "Hospital? This time of night? Whatever for?"

  "He was shot."

  Eleanor stiffened and made a shrill, chirping sound. "How. . . ?"

  "After we left the restaurant, we went for a walk along the seawall. Someone driving by in a pickup tried to gun us down. George took a bullet in the hip."

  "Oh, how awful. You should have said something sooner. I'd never have expected you to come by tonight."

  "It seemed important to you." Helen shrugged. "At any rate, I'm sure it'll still be a while before I can see him. He's in surgery."

  Eleanor clicked her tongue. "A drive-by shooting, of all things. I can't believe something like that could happen here at the coast." Walking Helen to the door, she added, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We've had two murders here in Bay Village in less than four months. A person isn't safe anywhere these days."

  Brian came in before Helen could respond. Judging by the scowl on his face, his anger hadn't abated much. "What are you doing here?"

  "Brian, please. I asked her to come. I don't know what your problem is, but as long as you're staying here, I expect you to be civil to my guests."

  "Fine. I'll get my things."

  "Brian!" Eleanor started to follow him. She stopped at the stairs, then turned back to Helen. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's
gotten into him."

  "Go ahead." Helen glanced at the stairs. "I'll let myself out."

  Helen had no sooner reached her car than Brian slammed out of the front door. He came to an abrupt halt beside her. "You still here?" He sounded more civil.

  She held up her hands and examined her palms. "Apparently."

  He smiled at that. "Look, I'm sorry I was so rude. I've been blowing up a lot lately Mom was right, I had no business being angry with you."

  "You just lost your father. I suppose you have a right to be angry at the world."

  He shook his head. "I am pretty bummed out about that. It wasn't just losing Dad, though, it was gaining a brother."

  "Alex?"

  "You know about him?" Brian hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder.

  "Yes, but I'm surprised you do. Your mother just told me she didn't plan to tell you until after the funeral."

  "I didn't realize she knew."

  "She says she found the information on Alex in one of your father's desk drawers." Helen opened her car door. "How did you find out?"

  He gave her a lopsided grin. "I . . . ah. . . . Don't suppose you'd give me a ride down to the Bay View Hotel, would you? I could tell you on the way"

  Helen shrugged. "Sure, hop in." As soon as the words were out she wondered at the wisdom of going off alone with him.

  "Thanks." He settled his lengthy frame into the passenger seat of her car. His hostility seemed to have melted, and while she didn't feel a sense of immediate danger from him, she still didn't trust him. Also, she reminded herself, the ride into town would provide an excellent opportunity to hear his side of things.

  Once they'd buckled up and backed out of the driveway, Helen asked him again about Alex.

  "Dad called me from the airport in Portland when he got in.

  "Sunday? What time?"

  "Around three in the afternoon. Said he had something important to tell me and wanted me to meet him down here that night."

  "And did you?"

  "No. He'd been leaning on me pretty hard lately, so I told him no way was I driving clear to the coast. If he had something to say to me, he could say it over the phone."