"Or in a hurry. You did interrupt him." Helen brought her husband his tea and sat across from him. "I'm glad you came back down. I've been thinking about Isabelle's missing files and trying to remember what was in them. My guess is that whoever has been breaking in has been doing so with the express purpose of making certain I haven't found what Isabelle found. Which makes no sense at all. If there was a question, why not just kill me? They've killed two, maybe three people already. What's one more?" She rubbed the back of her head, remembering the incident on the bunker. "Of course, it's not as if they didn't try. Someone went through my papers then too."
J.B. frowned and wagged his head from side to side. If he'd spoken, Helen suspected he'd have said something like, I'll not be hearing any more of that foolish talk.
"I know. But it seems strange they'd be developing a conscience now." She sighed and, placing her elbow on the table, rested her chin on her fist. "The more I look, the more questions I find."
What sort of questions? his cocked eyebrow implied.
"Like why had Isabelle put a star in front of Adam's name? Had she been listing suspects and marked those she thought responsible for whatever crime she'd uncovered? I can't imagine Adam being involved in any wrongdoing, but he has changed. Don't you think?"
We all change, he wrote.
"True, but as you pointed out, Adam seems more sullen and disgruntled with life. Bitter. Perhaps his disappointments, his mother dying, losing Shells to Scott, have taken their toll? Still," she went on, "Adam seems more resilient than that."
She paused for a moment, then added, "Then there's Dan. He and Adam are both obsessed about placing the blame on Scott. It doesn't seem possible that both of them would want Scott put away simply because Shells had chosen him over either of them."
Maybe they've lost their objectivity, J.B. noted on his pad. Easy to do in light of the evidence.
"I suppose that's true." Isabelle had listed a number of names. Mike Trenton and Hank and Bill Carlson. They were three of many fishermen who hadn't sold out to Scott. Why had
Isabelle mentioned only them? Helen continued bouncing ideas off J.B. until they finished their tea. By then she was more than ready to sleep.
The next morning Helen express-mailed the blood sample and Band-Aid wrapper to Tom, then called him to let him know they were on the way.
"I thought that case was closed," Tom said. "That's what Jorgenson told me."
"Yes, well, someone hit J.B. over the head last night and stole my laptop and my manuscript. Mandrel is in jail. The sheriff doesn't think it's connected, but I'm certain it was. That means Mandrel is either innocent or has someone working with him. I need someone from the outside to look at the evidence."
"We'll check them out. But you know if the prints aren't on file. . .."
"Right, but let's not worry about that just yet."
"How's J.B.?" Tom asked.
"Coming along. He's not taking the prospect of retiring well."
"I can imagine. I was afraid something like this might happen."
"What do you mean?"
"I got some of his test results back today. Report shows he has a mild arrhythmia along with high cholesterol and high blood pressure."
Helen rubbed her forehead and leaned against the wall of the phone booth. "Do you think he knew?"
"Maybe. Knowing J.B., he probably figured he could manage it on his own."
"I can't believe he didn't tell me."
"Don't be riding him too hard, Helen. It would be tough for a man like J.B. to admit his health was failing. I have a feeling that's why he didn't want to retire. Maybe needed to prove he still had it."
"That is so stupid."
"True, but I can't fault him. I'd probably do the same myself."
As angry as Helen felt, she thought it best not to confront J.B. just now. He seemed in a much better frame of mind this morning, and she didn't want to hang clouds on a perfectly clear day. J.B. insisted he was feeling much better and wanted to go down to the docks and check on the Hallie B. Helen didn't argue, thinking the fresh air would do him good. Besides, how could she argue with a note that said, I'm needing some time alone.
After dropping J.B. off at the docks and settling him on the boat, Helen returned to the bed and breakfast, where she used Emily's desktop computer to put in the finishing touches on the guidebook. She e-mailed the manuscript, to her editor. After making an extra copy on her jump drive, Helen heaved a monumental sigh of relief. It wasn't a final draft, and she'd be revising it at least once, but at least she'd gotten through it.
To celebrate, she went to a local coffee house, picked up two lattes, and drove to Ilwaco to rendezvous with J.B.
"Checking up on me?"
Helen's gaze moved from the paper to his eyes, wanting to see if he was amused or annoyed. A smile tugged at his lips, and his blue eyes had that teasing twinkle she'd grown to adore. "Yes, but I missed you too. Brought you an almond latte."
They took their drinks to the bridge and sat on the sun deck. The soothing moments brought back memories of their wedding day in the south of France, and of their honeymoon cruise in the Caribbean. She watched J.B. as he wrote a long message on his pad. Why hadn't she seen the warning signs? Had there been any? High blood pressure was often called the silent killer. He'd been more anxious of late, and tired more easily. She'd attributed that to his frustration over retiring. Had it been more?
But no, this thinking was getting her nowhere. Next thing she knew she'd be blaming herself. Best to concentrate on the here and now and on making the necessary changes in their diet and their lifestyle. J.B. had never been as health conscious as she but now would be the time to change that.
The day had been uncharacteristically warm. The sunshine and activity had given J.B. a healthy glow. Definitely an improvement.
He handed her the writing pad. I've been fooling myself. I thought I could outwit time. Now I see that time will always win. J.B. basically repeated what Tom had told her, then apologized for not telling her. I didn't want you and the children fussing over me, telling me what I should do and what I should or shouldn't eat. It was foolish of me to take the boat. I'd been having mild chest pains all day. Would have served me right if I’d had a massive coronary and died.
Helen swallowed past the lump in her throat. He'd been working on this letter to her for a lot longer than the few minutes she'd been on board. Maybe this was why he'd felt the need to get away. She read on.
I've been doing some serious thinking the last few days. Once I got over being angry with God for letting this happen to me, I realized that I should be thanking Him instead. He’s given me a second chance. More time to be with you and to be a grandfather to those lovely grandchildren of ours. At first retirement seemed a nasty word. Now I'll be looking at it as a blessing. At least I'll try. I just hope you won't mind putting up with an old fool for the rest of my days.
Helen brushed the tears aside and let the pad drop to the floor. Words were difficult to come by. His honesty, even if it was late in coming, intensified her love for him. Leaving their chairs, they met halfway and embraced as they had done so many times before. "You're not an old fool," she murmured into his neck. "You're wonderful and sensitive and, perfect." She leaned back so she could look him full in the eyes. "No matter what happens, to either of us, we'll work it through together."
He kissed her as deeply and thoroughly as he could with a mouth full of wires, then released her and picked up the pad she'd dropped. He scribbled a message and held it up against his chest. Now that we've cleared all that up, perhaps you could get lost for a bit longer. I’ve decided to go back to write my life story and could do with some quiet time.
Helen gave him a light blow to the shoulder and laughed. "Just remember that next time I'm writing." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "What about dinner? Shall I come get you?"
He shook his head and wrote. Plenty of food on board. I'll stay the night. Why don't you pick me up tomorrow?
&nb
sp; "Tomorrow? You're really serious about this, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Of course.
Helen left the Hallie B with a spring in her step. J.B. was going to be just fine. She walked past the slips where the Merry Maid and the Klipspringer were usually docked. A perfect day for fishing. She mentally sent up good wishes for a good catch. Halfway up the dock a shiver ran through her. She paused and glanced around. Though she saw no one, Helen sensed someone was watching her. The premonition followed her to her car, and the uneasy feeling left its residue in her mind like the smelly, grimy algae she'd seen on the sand.
Chapter Twenty Three
I'm taking you to dinner tonight," Emily called from the front porch. "And I won't take no for an answer. You'll only be staying here one more night, and besides, I think we should celebrate your getting the guidebook written."
"Sounds great." Helen could think of no good reason to resist. J.B. already had plans, and she did feel like celebrating.
Since it was nearly five, Helen quickly showered and dressed in fresh jeans, a bright pink T-shirt with a tropical fish motif, a matching vest, and her lightweight black jacket. They ended up at Shells' Place. Helen grew suspicious when she and Emily were led away from the main dining area into a back room. A whoop of surprise greeted her. The entire writer's group along with Earl Wilson, Mike Trenton, the Carlson brothers, Adam, Dan, and just about everyone else she'd met during her stay on the Peninsula had showed up. She was surprised to see Earl and made a note to talk to him later.
"I can't believe you guys did this. I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything." Emily nudged her forward. "Just think of it as a celebration for you and Isabelle and the guidebook."
Shells provided them each with a drinks, with which they toasted Helen and Isabelle. Helen thought briefly of sending Adam over to the Hallie B to invite J.B. but decided against it. He'd seemed intent on writing. Besides, she'd planned a cozy dinner for two the next evening at the one of the area's best restaurants. Better to let him rest.
Dinner consisted of tender chicken breasts topped with cherry sauce, one of Shells' specialties. On the side she'd served cranberry muffins, brown rice with mushrooms, and assorted sautéed vegetables. A scrumptious meal. The dessert was even better, a decadent fudge torte with coffee and tea. The conversations with her table mates, Emily on one side, Joanna Black on the other, related mostly to writing.
"I know you've been busy," Joanna whispered at one point, "but have you given any more thought to who might have killed poor Isabelle? I'd swear on a stack of Bibles it wasn't Scott Mandrel. I still think Dan should go after Mike. He's the most obvious suspect. Remember what I told you about him killing Harry."
"Give it a rest, Jo." Her husband nudged her. "This isn't the time or the place. Besides, the evidence all points to Scott. All we can do is hope his lawyer can get him off."
Before Helen could comment, one of the writers sitting opposite her asked, "What are your plans now that you've finished the guidebook?"
"My husband and I will spend the weekend at North Head, then drive back down the coast to Bay Village. I'm due for a vacation. Maybe we'll take another cruise. After these last two weeks, J.B. and I could both use some down time. Then I suppose I'll go back to writing travel articles."
"Well, you deserve a rest." Emily pushed her chair back and addressed the group. "Excuse me, everyone, but I have a few words to say, and now's as good a time as any."
Emily waited for the group to settle down, then called Shells in from the kitchen to thank her for the meal. Shells bowed to the applause, then snagged a chair and sat near the door, where she could watch the restaurant and still be part of the gathering.
"As you all know, when I first heard Isabelle's publisher was sending a writer to finish the guidebook, I had my doubts. I truly feared the next one to take over the book was jinxed and that Helen would meet the same kind of fate Isabelle did."
"She almost did," Joanna said. "Let's not forget that incident up at McKenzie Head."
"True enough, but I'm thinking now that Dan may have been right. Maybe it was a vagrant after all. At any rate, the good Lord has laid my fears to rest. As you can see, Helen is alive and kicking."
Emily paused while several of the partyers whistled and applauded, then went on. "I wasn't sure I wanted Isabelle's book finished, especially by an outsider. But the more I got to know Helen, the more I realized that the publisher couldn't have chosen a better person for the job. I'm certain now it's what Isabelle would have wanted. I know I feel better knowing it will soon be in print."
The group agreed and urged Helen to speak. She finally acquiesced, thanking everyone and saying how much she'd enjoyed the project. "Most of all, though, I'm pleased to have made so many new friends. Now that I know how many wonderful things there are to do here, I plan to come back often. And Shells, you can be sure I'll send a lot of people your way. I may even write an article for Tour and Travel on the many fine eating establishments here. Yours will top the list."
"Thank you. That's so kind. I only wish you didn't have to go so soon." Shells blinked back tears. Her big brown eyes were filled with so much hurt, Helen wanted to bundle the girl up and take her home. She looked away, wishing she could have done more.
When Helen finished speaking and received the congratulatory cards and well-wishes from those attending, the Blacks, Libby, Mike Trenton, Hank and Bill, and several others said their good-byes and left. She tucked the cards and gifts into her backpack and walked into the main part of the restaurant.
Earl came up behind her. "I heard you say you'd be leaving the Peninsula soon. Wanted to tell you good-bye and wish you good luck on your book."
"Thanks. I have to admit I was surprised to see you here. You didn't come all the way down here for the party, did you?"
"No, not to say that I wouldn't have." Earl winked at her. "But no. I had to come down to finish my inspection and file a report. Hope to head home for the weekend."
Bill was still standing at the cash register talking to Shells. When Helen approached he tossed her a companionable grin. "It's been nice getting to know you, Mrs. Bradley. Too bad you can't stick around and help us find out who's really bringing those drugs in down here."
Shells sighed. "I'm sorry to see you go too. But I guess I already said that. Maybe if you have time over the weekend you and your husband can come for lunch or dinner. I'd like to talk to you again before you leave for good. There has to be something we can do to free Scott."
Dan came up beside them. "I'm sure Helen has better things to do than to help you play detective, Shells. Sooner or later, you'll realize it's a lost cause. Besides, I think we've got the situation well in hand." He straightened and tugged at his belt. As he did, his chest lifted and broadened like a strutting pigeon. "We closed down a meth lab up at Klipsan Beach today, biggest one in the state. Drug use was up all right, but not from stuff coming in from the outside. Thousands of pounds of crank were being made here and shipped upriver to Longview- Kelso and the Portland-Vancouver area."
"Quite a bust." Adam joined them. "J.B.'s the one who figured it out."
"J.B.?" Helen frowned. No wonder he'd been in such good spirits. Why hadn't he told her? One thing for certain, he had some explaining to do.
"He was out on his boat this morning," Adam continued. "Saw some kids hauling coolers down to a couple of cabin cruisers. Nothing out of the ordinary at first, but one of them got greedy. Thought no one was looking, so he opened his cooler and helped himself to a couple bags of something that looked suspiciously like crank."
"Don't tell me J.B. went after them."
Adam chuckled. "You know J.B. better than that. He knows his limitations. Besides, we were after bigger fish. J.B. radioed me and I got hold of Dan. We watched them and let them go about their business. They eventually led us to the houses they'd been using."
Dan clasped Adam's shoulder and grinned. "We expect to make more arrests when the boats m
ake it to their destination upriver."
"That's wonderful." Helen switched the heavy pack from her sore right shoulder to her left. "I'm curious. How does Scott Mandrel figure into it?"
"He doesn't." Shells shoved the cash register drawer closed after giving Adam his change and leaned on the glass counter.
Dan ignored her. "Well, we're not certain yet. We still have Kendall's testimony that Scott was responsible for the bombing and Chuck's death. So far we haven't made a connection to him and the local drug dealings, but we're working on it. I have a feeling he set the whole thing up."
"Why can't you get it through your thick skull that Scott is innocent?" Shells frowned. "You have no real proof. All you've got is the say-so of a drug addict, and he's dead."
Earl, who'd been on the sidelines waiting to pay his bill, jumped to his brother-in-law's defense. "Steve may have had some problems, but he had no reason to lie. If he named Mandrel as the one who hired him to kill Frazier, then that's who did it."
"Right," Shells tossed back. "Someone paid him to frame Scott. Or maybe he was running the show, or you!"
"Oh, come on." Earl shook his head. "You're crazy."
"Hey, people," Dan cut them off. "There's no point in arguing. We'll straighten it out eventually." He paused and said, "I sure don't know what you see in that guy, Shells. You deserve so much better."
"Someone like you?" Shells gave him an odd look, one Helen couldn't read. They'd probably been over that ground before.
Helen stepped back, not wanting to get into the middle of the ongoing debate. It would take weeks to straighten things out and get the testimonies needed to ascertain who had done what to whom and why, if they ever did. Knowing the complexity of some drug operations, she wondered if they would ever get to the truth.
"Think they'll ever find out who killed Isabelle?" Emily asked when they'd reached their cars. Helen and Emily had driven separately, as Helen had planned to check in on J.B. and perhaps surprise him by staying the night on the Hallie B. That is if he wanted her to.
Red Sky In Mourning: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 3) Page 18
