Checked Out for Murder, page 24
“I thought so at the time. Helen must have been ten years younger than I was then, but she took me under her wing. She saw to it that I knew my way around the craft store and could deal with customers if I was ever left on my own. I discovered she was a talented craftswoman herself, and sold her work to various galleries. Her specialty was beautiful macramé wall hangings.”
Sheila glanced at me. “Helen also made items using cord and small beads, like the picture frames you saw hanging in my living room. When she caught me admiring them, she sat me down one day and taught me how to make them.” She laughed. “But mine never turned out as good as Helen’s.”
“Did you tell her how Chet was treating you and the children?” John asked.
Sheila frowned. “She saw a bruise on my arm and asked me how I got it. At first I wouldn’t say, but Helen was persistent. I never talked about my family situation, but somehow people in Clover Ridge knew. In fact, a lawyer in town had been offering to help me get a divorce.” She shuddered. “But whenever I thought about Chet finding out, I imagined he’d try to kill me.”
“How did Helen react when you told her Chet was beating you?”
“She got angry. She said I didn’t have to put up with that crap. From the way she spoke, I got the feeling she’d had to deal with an abusive husband herself.” Sheila drew a deep breath. “As things between us got more involved, she tried to convince me to leave Chet and move in with her. I told her I couldn’t leave Daphne and Billy. Helen said they were old enough to fend for themselves. That really upset me.”
“Did you ever consider ending it with Helen?” John asked.
Sheila nodded. “Often. My life was a total mess. I hated myself for all the bad choices I’d made—marrying Chet when I knew he had a drinking problem, turning to the first person who showed me warmth and kindness.” A small bitter laugh escaped. “Not that there weren’t plenty of men in town who had been willing to do the same. At least I’d been smart enough to avoid them. Only to end up with someone as controlling as Chet. I was numb. Too frightened to end things with Helen. Too frightened not to.”
“Did Helen notice the change in you?”
“Yes, but she had no idea that she was starting to frighten me—almost as much as Chet. She thought I was afraid to tell Chet and the children. She threatened to talk to Chet herself. I begged her not to, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Each conversation we had got worse and worse. Finally …”
We waited.
“I came home late one night from working at the craft shop and ran into Helen on the stairs. I asked her what she was doing there, but she only put her finger to her lips and rushed past me. When I walked through the open door, I saw Chet lying on the floor with a knife sticking out of his chest.”
“What did you do?” John asked.
“I ran through the apartment, looking for Daphne and Billy, but neither of them was there. Then I called the police and told them I’d come home from working at the craft store and found Chet stabbed to death.”
“And never mentioned Helen,” John said.
Sheila shook her head. “I couldn’t. I knew she’d done it for me. For my sake, so we could be together.”
“But you didn’t remain in a relationship with Helen.”
“Of course not. The police questioned me that evening, and Daphne and Billy when they came home. We couldn’t even stay in the apartment but had to spend the night with neighbors, where I finally fell asleep close to dawn. The following day, I went to Helen’s apartment and confronted her for killing Chet.
“‘That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘Of course not!’ I said. ‘I never told you to come to my apartment and stab my husband.’
“‘I didn’t go there intending to kill Chet,’ she said, ‘but he went crazy when I told him we were in love and came after me. I wasn’t going to let him knock me around like he did you and the kids, so I jabbed him a few times. It was self-defense.’
“‘Where did you get the knife?’ I asked. Helen said she always carried one for protection.” Sheila bit her lip. “When she saw how horrified I was instead of showing my gratitude for taking care of our problem, she turned ugly.
“I’d seen her like this once before, but never directed at me. This time she went on the attack. She said if I ever told the police or anyone that she’d killed Chet, she’d say she did it because I’d begged her to finish him off once and for all. Then I’d go to prison, same as her.”
Sheila lowered her gaze. “I couldn’t bear the thought of standing trial, of spending years behind bars, and so I flew out of her apartment, ran home, and gathered up some clothes and my money and left. Not very admirable, I know.”
The sound of shattering glass startled us. I raced to the living room and gaped at the smashed window that faced the river. I started for the door, but two pairs of strong arms held me back.
“Are you crazy?” Dylan asked. “Whoever it is could still be out there.”
John released his grip on me and ran outside as a car took off at top speed. When Smoky Joe entered the room to investigate the commotion, Sylvia swept him up and shut him inside my bedroom.
Dylan peered out the front door. Outside, John stood staring at the road when his cell phone rang. He said a few “Uh-huhs,” then disconnected.
“That was Danny Brower,” he told us. “He was parked halfway between here and Dylan’s house when a vehicle drove up. Not five minutes passed before it came speeding like a bat out of hell from this direction. He gave chase but lost whoever did this.”
My mouth fell open. “You had Danny watching the cottage because Sheila was coming to dinner?”
“I did.”
I noticed that neither Dylan nor Billy seemed surprised by his news.
“They knew!” I said.
“Uh-huh. A lot of good it did.”
“Did Danny get the number of the plate?” Dylan asked.
“He’s running it as we speak.”
Sheila huddled into herself. “Even now I’m bringing trouble to everyone.”
“No, you’re not!” Aunt Harriet said.
“She’s still here! I never should have come back to Clover Ridge,” Sheila said.
“You came back because you’re courageous and want to do what’s right,” John said. “The fact is she’s frightened and trying to drive you away.” He exchanged glances with Billy. “I think it would be best if you and your mother spent the night at a hotel.”
He turned to Sheila. “I’d like you to come down to the precinct tomorrow morning and go over everything you told us tonight. Meanwhile, I’ll start searching through data files. There has to be a clue somewhere that leads us to this Helen Stravos.”
John looked at each of us in turn. “And I’m ordering you not to discuss what Sheila has told us with any living soul. I’ll get to the bottom of these homicides if it’s the last thing I do.”
We all nodded solemnly. The evening was over. John got into his car and followed Billy and Sheila to Billy’s apartment; they would pick up a few overnight items, then drive to a local motel. While Aunt Harriet, Sylvia, and I cleared the table, Dylan called Jack Norris, the property’s handyman, and arranged for him to remove the broken glass and call a glazier first thing in the morning.
Uncle Bosco and Aunt Harriet left to drive Sylvia home. I gathered up some clothes, cat food, and Smoky Joe’s litter box, slipped the unwilling cat inside the carrier, and went to spend the night at Dylan’s manor, as I privately called his large house.
“That was some story Sheila told us,” I said as Dylan and I were getting ready to go to sleep. “I only hope she doesn’t decide it’s too dangerous to remain in Clover Ridge and takes the first ferry back to Long Island.”
“Now that she’s told us about her involvement with this woman, I’m pretty sure Sheila will do all that she can to help John track down Helen Stravos through various criminal databases.”
“But what if she doesn’t have a record?” I asked.
Dylan stared at me. “Are you kidding? A woman tough enough to carry a knife for protection? I can’t imagine that Chet Harper was her only victim.”
I shrugged. “Just sayin’. She wasn’t a thief. At least, she was working in the craft store when Sheila knew her. And selling to various galleries.”
“She’s volatile and she wasn’t afraid of confronting a known abuser.” Dylan kissed my cheek. “John’s getting closer, babe. This Helen’s running scared.”
“And I’m scared that she’s on the loose.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
News of last night’s incident had already reached the library by the time I arrived at work on Thursday morning.
“I heard someone threw a rock through your living room window,” Angela said, looking worried. “Weren’t Billy and his mom there for dinner?”
“As were my aunt and uncle and John and Sylvia. Thank goodness no one got hurt. The glazier was heading for the cottage to replace the window as I left for work,” I said. “How did you find out so quickly?”
“Danny’s mother called Mom while we were having breakfast.”
I laughed. “I should have figured.”
“What did Billy’s mother have to say?” Angela asked.
“John’s sworn us to secrecy, but I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”
Angela’s eyes lit up. “I can hardly wait.”
I had no sooner unlocked the door to my office than Evelyn appeared. Since John had told us not to breathe a word of last night’s revelations to any living soul, I felt free to share Sheila’s story with her.
“Poor Pattie, or whatever she’s calling herself these days,” she said when I’d finished. “Are you thinking that Hattie Fein is Helen Stravos?”
“Difficult to say. Hattie has black hair and Helen’s hair was auburn. But people dye their hair all the time. Hattie’s in her fifties, which Helen would be now. And she was here in Clover Ridge when both women were murdered. Not to mention the barrette that’s the same kind of crafty work Helen Stravos did all those years ago.”
“I’m sure John is checking out this Helen Stravos every which way he can,” Evelyn said. “I think he’s getting closer to resolving these homicides.”
“So do I,” I said. “The stone thrower’s license plate number might be the best lead we have.”
John called me just before I was about to leave for the Cozy Corner Café with Angela. “I figured you’d appreciate an update after last night’s revelation.”
“I sure would.”
John exhaled a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, there’s not much to report. Billy brought Sheila in early this morning. I went over her story, checking for details. I tracked down Bob, who used to manage the craft shop. He’s now retired in Arizona. He remembers both women. Remembered Helen Stravos better, since she worked part-time at the craft shop for almost two years. Said she was beautiful and talented and had one hot temper. She disappeared the same time Pattie Harper’s husband was found dead and Pattie took off.”
“And there’s nothing about her anywhere?” I asked.
“Zip.”
“Maybe she changed her name,” I said.
John laughed. “To Hattie Fein?”
“It’s possible,” I said defensively. He had no business mocking me. “Hattie’s a tall woman. A bit heavier, twenty years later. Remember, she was wearing a barrette very similar to the macramé work that Helen Stravos taught Sheila to do.” I thought a minute, then added, “I did read her bio online, but she could have made that up.”
“I’ll look into it,” he said.
“What about the license plate number Danny was checking?”
John exhaled loudly. “A dead end. A rented car. Whoever rented it used a disposable cell phone for the transaction and picked it up when the place was closed. The car was found abandoned behind a supermarket.”
* * *
Sheila called after lunch. “Carrie, I want to thank you for dinner last night. It was so thoughtful of you to have us over.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m sorry the evening ended so abruptly.”
“Me too. Especially since whoever threw the rock had me in mind.”
“I’m glad it didn’t send you packing on the first ferry back to Long Island.”
“Believe me, I considered it, but John—Lieutenant Mathers—told me that the person’s intent was to frighten me and stop me from talking about Helen.”
“Does John think it was Helen who threw the rock?”
“He thinks there’s a good chance she threw it. He also thinks she had no idea that he was there at your house, since he and Sylvia drove to your cottage in Sylvia’s car.”
Interesting. “What else did John say?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“I happened to be in his office when he received a report on some fibers and hairs found at the murdered actress’s home. The dark hairs were from a woman, it turns out, but there’s no proof that they came from the killer.”
How interesting he shared this with you and not me.
“Carrie?” Sheila’s tone was hesitant.
“Yes?”
“I hope you weren’t, er, put off by what I said last night—about my relationship with Helen.”
“Not at all, Sheila. I’m only sorry she turned out to be such an awful person. You met her when you were vulnerable and at a low point in your life.”
“I keep going over those last few days—when Helen and I were arguing constantly and I thought things couldn’t get worse. But they did, didn’t they? Helen murdered Chet, and I ran, terrified of being charged as a coconspirator. At the time I thought Mitch Flynn was simply questioning Billy as he had me and Daph. I had no idea he’d make it look like Billy had stabbed his father. My poor son! And now Daphne’s gone. I should have prevented all that from happening.”
She began to sob.
“Sheila, you were very brave to come back here and tell John what you know about this woman. I feel certain that he’ll track her down before she does any more harm to anyone.”
“If only—”
I cut her off before she could heap more blame on herself. “Sheila, it doesn’t help to dwell on what’s already happened. You need to be strong for your husband’s sake and your own. And now you have Billy back in your life.”
“I have you to thank for that,” Sheila said, sounding stronger. “I can’t believe he doesn’t hate me for abandoning him.”
“He loves you and he needs you,” I said.
“I know, and I thank God for that every day.”
“I have to get back to work,” I said. “Dylan and I will see you at the play reading Saturday night?”
“Certainly,” Sheila said. “Billy has a few outings planned before then. I’m heading home on Sunday.” She gave a little laugh. “My husband’s missing me, and I just got some good news. Recently I’ve started working on a few craft projects again. My husband encouraged me to bring samples to two local galleries. This morning one of the galleries called to say they’re interested in carrying my work. Can you believe it? Starting over again at my age.”
“I can believe it, since I’ve seen your handiwork.” I was pleased that, despite the tragedies she’d experienced, Sheila was finding fulfillment in her life.
* * *
The next few days passed without any incident. My mother called, upset after hearing about the rock-throwing incident. I let her believe it was a random act of vandalism and didn’t mention that I’d had dinner guests that evening.
“Dirk’s been riding the cast like a taskmaster,” she said. “Working them from early morning to late in the evening to finish shooting on schedule.”
“How’s Tom taking it?”
“He hates the pressure, though he’s giving the performance of his life. The upside is, if there are no more snags, the movie will be in the can a week from Saturday,” my mother said. “Earlier than Dirk thought. We’ll fly home that Sunday. I hope we can meet for dinner one night before then.”
“Of course!” I said, more heartily than I felt. “You and Tom will come for dinner one night next week.”
“We’d be delighted,” my mother said.
Charlie called me a few times to make sure everything was in order for Saturday night’s performance. After the third call on Friday, I exploded.
“Charlie, our custodians are conscientious workers. They carry out our instructions in a responsible manner. Everything here will be set up as you requested.”
“I’m glad to hear that!” he boomed. “By the way, Ralph will stop by this afternoon to make sure the sound system is in working order.”
“I’m impressed by your attention to every aspect of the performance,” I said.
“Of course! We don’t want any unpleasant surprises tomorrow night.”
“We sure don’t,” I answered. I’d had enough surprises to last me a lifetime.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Saturday evening, Dylan and I left his car in front of the new Thai restaurant where we’d enjoyed a delicious dinner before walking the few blocks to the library. With so many people attending the play reading, I knew we’d never find a parking space in the library lot. It was a balmy night, and the streets around the Green were filled with pedestrians enjoying the fine weather along with residents lucky to have gotten tickets to the play reading.
We greeted Sally, who stood outside the library’s main entrance checking tickets. Since this was a community event, as Sally put it, I was relieved of guard duty. Whatever the reason, I was glad Dylan and I had seats in the meeting room downstairs. Still, I had every intention of strolling about the main level early on in the performance to make sure the audience sitting there could hear every word. Though Ralph had assured me the temporary system he’d installed was working properly and I hadn’t arranged this particular event, I still considered it my job to see to it that all was running smoothly.
“Happy?” Dylan asked as he squeezed my hand.
