Gin Jones - Helen Binney 01 - A Dose of Death (17 page)

The p
olice had to be wrong that the Remote Control Burglar had killed Melissa. Jack hadn’t had any reason to hurt Melissa or even target her for one of his retribution raids. Melissa hadn’t treated him badly, hadn’t even talked to him as far as Helen knew.

Unless
…

Melissa hadn
‘t treated Jack badly, but she’d treated Helen badly, and Jack had taken on the role of Helen’s protector. He might have targeted Melissa’s remote controls, not for upsetting him, but for upsetting Helen. She still couldn’t imagine him killing anyone. Surely, he wouldn’t have killed Melissa on Helen’s behalf.

Could he? He
‘d once asked if she wanted him to take care of Melissa, but…no, that was ridiculous. Jack wasn’t a killer. Even if he’d taken it on himself to scare Melissa off, he wouldn’t have killed her. He knew Helen had wanted the nurse to leave her alone, not to die.

No, Jack would never have done anything violent. He was a talker and a passive-aggressive type, not a murderer.

Unless the death had been an accident. Helen—and apparently the police—had been assuming the killer had picked up the bloody branch that forensics had taken away, and intentionally hit Melissa with it. But what if she’d been pushed and fell, hitting her head on the branch? Tragic, of course, but not intentional. Not murder. Anyone, even Jack or Helen herself, could have been involved in that kind of an accident.

The only problem with that theory is that there wasn
‘t any reason why either of them—Melissa or Jack—would have been at her house before 9:30, engaging in some sort of physical confrontation. It was possible, though. Melissa could have been staking out the cottage, to make sure Helen didn’t leave, and Jack could have been keeping an eye on the cottage to make sure Helen wasn’t bothered by Melissa.

Helen became aware that Jack was still talking without noticing her distraction. He was describing a more recent passenger who
‘d annoyed him. Probably the Remote Control Burglar’s next victim.

It was one thing for her to remain silent about his past burglaries, but she couldn
‘t be complicit in his future crimes. Now that she knew what he was doing, she had to convince him to stop before he did hurt someone. Or before he was caught and charged with a crime he hadn’t committed.

While Helen resented help that was foisted on her when she didn
‘t need it, she also knew when she was in over her head and had to ask for assistance. She didn’t know what to do about Jack, and the police wouldn’t be any help.

Tate would know what to do.

Jack continued to chat through the rest of the trip to the cottage, oblivious to Helen’s distraction. He left with a cheerful wave, and a promise to return with Marty on Monday to begin installation of her security system.

Helen toasted one of the left-over bagels, and melted cheese on top of it for dinner. She ate at her desk, studying the spreadsheet of burglary data, searching for a flaw in her theory that Jack
was the Remote Control Burglar. After a while, too tired to look at the screen any longer, she had to conclude that there just wasn’t anything to exonerate Jack.

The next morning, when she was more alert, she tried again, but everything still pointed to Jack as the burglar. She paced the great room, waiting for Tate to appear at his new workshop, unable to stay away from his passion, even on a Sunday. If there was a flaw in her theory, he would find it.

Helen stopped her pacing long enough to check in with her nieces by email, to confirm she was still alive and well and didn’t need them to come check on her again. When she finished and looked out the window, she was surprised to see that Tate’s car was parked outside the garage. She’d been so engrossed in her email that she hadn’t heard the crunch of its arrival on her gravel driveway. Now, though, she could hear some thumping inside the garage. She grabbed her cane and headed over to the garage, where she let herself in through the half-open door.

Tate looked up from the box he
‘d been emptying. “For someone who wants to be left alone, you sure do like to socialize.”

“
I talked to Geoff Loring yesterday, and I know who the Remote Control Burglar is.”

Tate
‘s eyebrows rose. “So Geoff had the missing piece of the puzzle, after all, and didn’t even know it? He must be thrilled that he’s finally got a real scoop.”

“
He doesn’t know,” she said. “I only figured it out on the way home from seeing him. Jack is the Remote Control Burglar.”

“
Jack who?” Understanding dawned on his face. “You mean Jack Clary? Your driver?”

Helen nodded and waited for Tate to convince her she was wrong.

“Hunh.” Tate leaned against his worktable and crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose you could make a case against him. What’s your evidence?”

She told him about the long list of passengers who
‘d annoyed him, and his desire for a little payback, and the way his schedule coincided with the timing of the thefts.

“
It fits,” Tate said, “but it’s pretty circumstantial.”

“
But if I’m right?” Helen said. “I don’t want to get him into trouble, but we need to convince him not to commit any more crimes.”

“
Good luck with that.”

“
I think he’d listen to me, especially since he’s got to know how risky it is, now that the police are paying more attention to the burglaries,” Helen said. “But what if I’m wrong about him? What if he isn’t the burglar?” 

“
He’ll be outraged by your accusation, and he’ll never let you forget that you thought he was a criminal,” Tate said. “The Clarys do tend to hold grudges. He’d probably decide to become your own personal burglar, stealing your remotes. He’d come back, again and again, every time you replaced them. You’d have to turn on your television manually for the rest of your life.”

“
That does sound like him. I’d deserve it too. If I were wrong. I don’t think I am.” After a moment of silence, Helen said, “He’d take the intervention better if it came from you.”

Tate shook his head.
“Not my job. I’m retired.”

“
What if you knew he was going to commit another crime?” she said. “Don’t you have an obligation, as an officer of the court, to do something to stop him?”

“
Not as long as he doesn’t use me to help him commit the crimes.”

“
If we caught him in the act, we’d know for sure that he was the burglar,” Helen said.

“
Are you planning to stalk him? Follow him everywhere he goes until he strikes again?” Jack said. “It could take weeks. Months, even, before he decides to steal another remote. Especially given his most recent collection of fourteen of them.” 

“
He’s going to act soon. He was talking about someone today, and it sounded like he’d chosen a new victim. If we knew who his recent passengers were, we might be able to figure out who he was targeting, and catch him at it. Then we’d know for sure that he’s the burglar.”

“
You’re going to do this with or without my help, aren’t you?”

“
Jack’s in over his head,” Helen said. “If he goes ahead with another burglary, and the police catch him, they’re going to charge him with murder, and they might make it stick. He’s not a killer, and we both know it. You can’t let it get that far.” 

“
I know the owner of the limo company,” Tate said reluctantly. “I might be able to get some information from him. Not until sometime tomorrow, though, if you don’t want him to be overly suspicious that I called him on a Sunday.”

“
I don’t want Jack to lose his job. You can’t tell his boss why you need the information. “ 

“
He knows better than to ask,” Tate said. “If Jack’s past becomes public knowledge, it will hurt the limo company’s reputation too. It’s better for everyone if it stays a mystery. As long as you can convince Jack not to steal again.”

“
I’ll convince him,” Helen said. “I’ve had years of experience with convincing people to do what’s in their best interest.”

“
Interesting,” Tate said. “You’ve never learned to take that kind of advice yourself.”

“
I don’t need people telling me what to do.”

“
I bet that’s what your victims thought too,” Tate said. “Just stay out of trouble while I work on getting the passenger list. Don’t make me miss out on my retirement for nothing.”

“
I’ll be at the nursing home, visiting some friends,” Helen said. “How much trouble can I get into there?”

*  *  *

Late on Monday morning, Jack drove Helen back to the nursing home. She’d been a little worried that she might betray her suspicion of him, but he was preoccupied with telling her about his latest run-in with inconsiderate passengers.

Helen left him waiting in the Town Car, already immersed in a game on his smartphone, and went to find Betty and Josie. The receptionist referred her to the common room, where the two women were seated in their favorite places in front of the fireplace, busy with their yarns and needles and hooks.

Betty raised her knitting and waved it at Helen. “Come join us.”

“
I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“
Don’t be silly,” Josie said. “We’re old, but we can still multi-task.”

The two women did, indeed, continue making perfectly even little stitches without even watching what they were doing.
“How long have you been knitting and crocheting?”

“
Forever,” Betty said. “I started when I was a teen, and Josie started in college. We both tried to give it up at various times over the years, but it’s an addiction, and we kept coming back to it.”

That was what Helen needed for her retirement: something she enjoyed so much that she couldn
‘t give it up, even if she wanted to. “You mentioned teaching me to make hats, and I was going to stop at the crafts store on the way here, but I didn’t know what I’d need.”

“
Not a problem.” Josie tucked the hat she was working on into the space between her hip and the chair, and dove into the Hello Kitty backpack that was on her lap. “We’ve got more yarn in our stashes than we’d be able to use in the combined lifetimes of everyone in the nursing home, and I always carry a few extra hooks. I like having options for new projects. Besides, I’m always dropping them, and sometimes it’s easier to just use another one until I can find someone to pick it up for me.”

Betty nodded.
“Crochet is easier for a beginner. Josie will set you up, and once you’re comfortable working with one hook, we’ll show you how to knit with two needles, so you can decide which you prefer.”

Helen pulled up a third chair and leaned her cane against the armrest. At least here she wasn
‘t the only one carrying such an ugly thing.

Within minutes, Helen was pulling loops through each other, forming first a long chain and then something that looked vaguely like the very wobbly edge of a cap.

“This yarn is pretty,” she said, trying not to feel that she was doing it a disservice.

“
You missed a stitch.” Josie pointed to a gap in the fabric. “It takes some practice before you can talk and work at the same time.”

“
I can listen and work, though,” Helen said. “I’m curious about what Geoff Loring has been up to here, and I bet you two know.”

Betty and Josie shared a glance, before Betty confided,
“We hate to speak ill of anyone who’s down and out, but Geoff doesn’t have any idea what’s going on here. Not the people, not the politics, not the finances. Or the ways that all three intersect.”

“
But you two know.”

“
Mind your stitches,” Josie said amiably. “You made two in one hole right there, and for now we’re working on keeping the cap the same size, not increasing or decreasing.”

“
It’s ironic, really,” Betty said. “Geoff didn’t have a lead on anything more exciting than the memoirs of some old has-beens, but someone thought he did. We heard that he was in the emergency room this morning, getting a cast on his arm. It seems he was jumped by a bunch of thugs who told him he’d better stay out of the nursing home, or else. And then they broke his wrist, so he couldn’t type up his story.”

“
Geoff was attacked?”

“
By Neanderthals.” Josie rolled her eyes. “Even the oldest resident here knows that computers can take dictation these days, with the proper software. Breaking arms just isn’t as effective as it used to be.”

Helen realized she couldn
‘t concentrate on both her stitching and her listening, after all. She showed the yarn mercy and let it fall into her lap. “So Geoff’s going to write his story, after all?”

“
That’s the irony,” Betty said. “He didn’t have a story that anyone would be upset about. Still doesn’t. No one here has told him about anything that’s happened in the last ten years.”

“
You know,” Josie said, picking up the abandoned mess in Helen’s lap and pulling out the last dozen stitches. “He might have had a lead without realizing it. He interviewed Melissa a few weeks ago, and now she’s dead. Maybe she told him something she shouldn’t have, and it got her killed and him assaulted.”

“
You don’t think the Remote Control Burglar killed Melissa?”

“
Please,” Josie said, sounding more like a teenager than an octogenarian. “He’s been stealing remote controls for at least five years without going on a murderous rampage, or even escalating to stealing something valuable, like the televisions that are operated by the remote controls. Why would he suddenly escalate to murder?”

“
Melissa’s death could have been an accident,” Helen said. “The police think she might have surprised him, and she got killed in the course of the burglar’s escaping.”

“
Her death could have been a lot of things, but I don’t think it had anything to do with burglary,” Betty said, agreeing with her friend. “I think it started out as a romantic rendezvous and something went wrong. Melissa was meeting her lover in your lovely woods, and…I don’t know. Maybe there was another lover, and he saw Melissa kissing the other man, and in a fit of jealousy, he tried to kill them both, but the lover got away and only Melissa died. Her killer probably hovered over her dying body, weeping and going insane with regret.”

Helen had a hard time picturing any scenario in which Melissa was the heroine, and this one seemed even less likely than the theory that Melissa
had tried to stop the Remote Control Burglar. “Did Melissa even have a lover? Her boss said she didn’t even have any family or close friends.”

“
It’s possible,” Josie said eagerly. “No one talks about their romantic triangles, after all. The whole point is to keep them secret. Not that anyone is very good at hiding things from us. You wouldn’t believe the things we see while we’re just sitting here, quietly making hats.”

“
Anything that might explain why Melissa was killed?”

The two women looked at each other and shrugged. Betty answered for them.
“Not really. Everyone’s been talking about it, but no one here really knows anything about what goes on outside our walls. Mostly, what we hear is just gossip about the residents and the staff. Melissa’s been gone long enough that half the people here have forgotten they ever knew her.”

Josie snorted.
“The residents here aren’t exactly reliable witnesses. Half the time, I forget what I’m crocheting until Betty reminds me. It’s a good thing I learned to crochet when I was a kid, because I’d hate to forget that.”