Authors: Gin Jones
Helen hurried over to him. "Geoff? Are you all right? Your uncle, is he okay?"
"What? My uncle?"
"You don't look good," she said. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. Uncle Tad is fine." Geoff pulled a smartphone out of his rumpled khaki pants. "I just got called to a crime scene."
"I'm sorry." Four months ago he would have been racing for his car with the hope of his first big scoop. Today, if he did any running, it would be to hide from his editor, pretending he hadn't gotten the message. "What kind of crime?"
"Murder," he said faintly. "Suspected, anyway. They've got a search warrant to look for a body."
"I thought you'd switched from hard news to features."
"I did. But the
Wharton Times
is a small paper, and sometimes we need to fill in for each other. I'm the only reporter available right now."
"Maybe the police won't actually find anything."
"That would be good," Geoff said, with a hopeful smile. "I'd be able to write about the search and then turn it over to someone else to figure out what happened to Angie Decker."
Helen drew in a startled breath. "Angie? That's whose body they're looking for?"
"I assume so," Geoff said. "I heard you talking to Betty and Josie the other day about Angie's disappearance, and the search warrant is for the Deckers' home."
* * *
Helen had limped all the way back to the Bentley before Geoff forced himself to leave the safety of the nursing home entrance's top step and head for his own car. As she got into the passenger seat she told Jack, "Change of plans. I need to get to the Deckers' house."
"Anything you want, Ms. Binney." He started the engine while she tugged the heavy but smooth-moving door shut behind her.
"The police are on the way there to search for Angie's body." Helen buckled her seatbelt. "And hurry, please. Ralph isn't prepared for being suspected of murder."
Jack grinned at the opportunity to really test the Bentley, and the car shot forward.
Helen called Tate, but there was no answer. He was probably busy with his lathe and had either turned off the phone to prevent being interrupted, or he was wearing his ear protection and couldn't hear the ring.
She got his voicemail and said, "The police are searching for Angie's body at the Deckers' house."
For most people, that would have been enough to at least pique their curiosity, but she needed something more to convince Tate to leave his workshop and come help Ralph. "I'm on my way there now with Jack. Just being on the premises won't get me arrested for interfering with a police investigation, will it?"
That should do it. Tate wouldn't be able to resist the chance to see her in handcuffs.
* * *
Cruisers with flashing lights prevented anyone from coming within a block of the Deckers' house. Jack dropped Helen off a short distance away from one of the barricades. A commercial truck idled in front of the Deckers' house with a backhoe on the bed of its trailer.
Jack left to find an inconspicuous spot to park the Bentley, while Helen mingled with the dozen or so people gathered to watch the commotion. Helen casually inspected the nearest cruiser. It was empty, and she assumed its assigned occupants were with Detective Peterson and the rest of the uniformed officers huddling over the idling truck, where two streets intersected at the corner of Deckers' lot.
Peterson was standing next to his car, giving instructions to six officers who must have been roasting in their dark uniforms and heavy black boots. Judging by the way he was pointing at various areas of the Deckers' yard, they were discussing their plan of attack. They hadn't noticed her yet, but she couldn't count on their continued blindness if she made a beeline for Ralph's yard.
To her left Francesca and her cat were peering out their front window. If she could just get to Francesca's house without being stopped, she might be able to get from there to the Deckers' yard.
Helen made her way up Francesca's front path and knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened just wide enough to reveal Mel's face at Helen's eye level, where Francesca held him against her chest.
"What's going on?" Francesca whispered.
Helen kept her voice low too. "They've got a search warrant."
"Poor Ralph," Francesca said. "He doesn't deserve this."
"That's why I'm here. I need to get to Ralph before they do so he doesn't say something stupid. I've got a lawyer on the way." She hoped, anyway. "Do you think you could distract them long enough for me to slip into the yard?"
Francesca stared at where Detective Peterson was still working out the search strategy and hugged Mel until the cat squeaked.
"I know it's scary, but I can't get past them without your help," Helen said. "You don't want Ralph to be arrested for something he didn't do."
"No, he's a good guy. He got the police to leave me alone after Angie complained, and he helped me with an insurance claim once, even though I wasn't insured through his agency." After one last look at Detective Peterson, she took a deep breath, released her too-tight hold on the cat, and said, "Okay, what do you want me to do?"
Helen took in the location of the various vehicles and officers. She could probably get behind the backhoe without the officers noticing her. If they saw her at all, she would look like a local resident heading back over to join the group of rubberneckers at the end of the block. Geoff had arrived finally and joined them, staying inconspicuously toward the back of the group. He held his smartphone, but instead of taking notes he had it hugged to his chest, much like Francesca held her cat for comfort.
Helen considered the shortest route to where she could hear Ralph methodically nailing shingles to the gazebo. Peterson had his back to her, and the other police had never paid any attention to her before, so there wouldn't be any reason for them to start now as long as she stayed within their expectations of her. Even they couldn't ignore her if she was marching right in front of them into Ralph's yard, and there was no way she could sprint faster than they could. She needed them to be distracted for at least a minute or two so she could hobble unnoticed up the driveway and across the construction debris.
"I need to get to Ralph's back yard without the police stopping me," Helen said. "Can you get their attention for a couple minutes once I'm ready to step out from behind the backhoe? I'll move as fast as I can, but that's not saying much."
Francesca stared in horror at the police before nodding grimly. "I wonder if being stared at will be any easier when I know it's helping someone else."
"I'm sure it will." Raising her voice a bit in case anyone was paying them any attention, Helen said, "Sorry you can't come shopping with me today. Maybe next time when there isn't any excitement going on in your front yard."
On her way back to the street, Helen gave the police a few curious glances, assuming she'd appear more suspicious if she ignored them completely. If Peterson turned around and saw her, he'd immediately know something was up, but the others would only notice her if she did something unexpected.
Helen got into place behind the backhoe and signaled to Francesca. A moment later she responded with a loud shriek.
"Mel! Oh no! Come back!" Francesca hobbled down the steps, her forearm crutches clattering with each step. "Help!"
Helen took it as her cue and limped as fast as she could up Ralph's driveway and through the tools and supplies scattered around the back yard. She forced herself not to look back to see if anyone had noticed her. From across the street she heard babbling about an escaped cat and the need for help before Mel was run over by the police cars or the backhoe.
Helen aimed for the pathway through the construction debris which she'd used earlier in the day. It was a little more clogged than it had been an hour earlier, but still passable.
Ralph was calmly nailing another perfectly cut and placed shingle to the gazebo, his ear protection rendering him oblivious to the idling diesel engine in front of his house.
"Ralph." She tapped him on the arm to get his attention. Once he'd taken off his ear protection, she said, "The police are here to search your property.
He looked at her blankly. "Whatever for? I've got a permit to build the gazebo."
"No time to explain. I didn't want you to be alone for this." Helen finally dared to look back toward the road, half expecting Detective Peterson to be shaking handcuffs at her.
There were no visible handcuffs, but Peterson was coming up the driveway and heading for the Great Wall of Abandoned Stuff. He took up a position beside it with four uniformed officers flanking him. He pulled a packet of papers out of his jacket pocket. "We've got a warrant to search the premises, Ralph."
"Just don't make a mess," Ralph said. "If you do, Angie will be furious, and you don't want her mad at you. She never forgets or forgives."
"I'll have to risk it," Detective Peterson said. "We have a duty to do everything we can to find her."
Helen couldn't resist pointing out, "You weren't in a rush the last time I talked to you."
"We didn't have any reason to believe there was anything to investigate then," Detective Peterson said. "Even Ralph here didn't think anything was wrong. It's hard to investigate a missing person when the closest relative doesn't think she's missing. It does raise the question of whether that closest relative might be hiding something, though. I hope we won't find anything, but we have to look."
Helen had a feeling the real reason Peterson was finally doing something was that Betty and Josie had finally convinced his uncle to put some pressure on him to do his job.
"If it will help you to find Angie and make sure she's safe, you're welcome to look at her things," Ralph said, raising the nail gun to gesture at the house. "The side door's unlocked."
Peterson gestured for two more uniformed officers who'd been waiting on the sidewalk to join him before heading inside the house. He left the other four officers in the yard, presumably to make sure Ralph didn't try to run. Helen couldn't imagine anyone less likely to either a) kill his wife or b) try to evade police after committing a crime.
"Shouldn't you call your lawyer?" Helen said.
"Why?" Ralph said. "I've got nothing to hide."
Tate would have shaken his head in dismay at those words. Helen could imagine him saying everyone had something to hide, and she agreed with him on that. Very few people were hiding evidence of murder, but everyone had secrets. And an investigator looking for evidence could misconstrue otherwise innocent things.
Before Peterson reached the house, raised voices out by the street caught Helen's attention. One of them belonged to Jack. He deserved a raise after this. He had to be nervous, but he was so determined to protect her that he was willing to run the gauntlet of police officers between her and the street. Some of them had probably suspected Jack of being involved in Charlene's disappearance or at least of stealing from her, and yet Jack was halfway up the driveway, having left his precious Bentley unguarded. The closest uniformed officer shouted at him for a second time to stay where he was.
Jack greeted the officer by name, keeping his hands away from his body and in clear sight. "I'm Ms. Binney's driver. I just want to make sure she's okay. I'm not here to steal anything from Ralph. You can ask him. He doesn't mind my being here."
The uniformed officer turned uncertainly, looking to Detective Peterson for instructions.
"Well?" the detective said to Ralph. "Has anything been stolen from you recently?"
"Why would Jack steal anything from me?" Ralph said. "Never mind. Nothing makes any sense today. I haven't noticed anything missing, and I trust Jack. He's welcome here anytime."
When Peterson still hesitated, Helen added, "Jack isn't a threat to anyone. He has no history of violence, not even from when he was foolish and did some illegal things. If you remember, he was also completely cleared of my nurse's murder when the real culprit confessed. You can't keep blaming him for everything that goes wrong in this town."
"All right." Detective Peterson gestured to the officer to let Jack pass. "But now you've got an escort to your car—it's time for you to leave."
"Ralph was just about to get me a drink of water," Helen extemporized. "I need to take my medication."
Ralph didn't move from his dazed seat on the gazebo's steps.
"Come on, Ralph," Helen said, tugging on his arm. "I need you to show me where the glasses are in the kitchen."
"Oh. Right." Ralph stood up slowly, unbuckling his tool belt and dropping it beside the nail gun. Detective Peterson nudged the power tool aside with his foot, and one of the uniformed officers picked it up with a gloved hand and put it in an evidence bag.
Once she and Jack were in the kitchen and Ralph was searching for a clean glass, Helen pulled Jack aside. "Tate isn't answering his phone, and I think Ralph needs him. I don't want to leave Ralph here alone, so would you go see if Tate's at my cottage working in his studio?"
"I can't leave you here all alone. Your nieces—" Jack stopped abruptly. "I mean, it's not safe for you to stay here. You've got as much baggage with Detective Peterson as I do, and he's expecting you to leave with me."
Jack might not be on her nieces' payroll, but he was every bit as much of a babysitter as if he were. She didn't find it as annoying as she might have four months earlier. There were times when she did need some back-up. Just not right now. "I'll be fine for the amount of time it will take you to go get Tate. Perhaps swing by his nephew's office if Tate's not at the studio. I'll come up with a reason why I can't leave just yet. I really don't think Peterson's going to arrest me for anything. It wouldn't look good, dragging pitiful little me downtown in handcuffs."
"He might question you, though, and get the wrong idea about your involvement in Angie's disappearance."
"There's nothing you could do to stop that," Helen said, "but Tate could. That's why you need to go get him."