A Dawn of Death Read Free Page A

both of them."
    "I'm sure it is." Helen had seen only the very tip of that particular iceberg at the Wharton Nursing Home. The staff there were extraordinary, and they made caring for dementia patients look easy, but she knew it was an illusion even there where the staff had the advantages of a secure environment, colleagues to share the burden, and a substantial period of time off between shifts. RJ, on the other hand, was apparently trying to do everything all by himself and around the clock in a building that wasn't designed for preventing the patient from leaving.
    "Tell me about your garden plans," Paul said, "so I will know where to put the peas."
    Plans? Helen didn't have anything particular in mind other than to buy plants and stick them in the ground until she ran out of space. She'd have to do some more reading to come up with a plan. "Perhaps I should skip the peas. I wouldn't want to keep you from working on your own plot."
    "A gardener's work is never done," he said, leading the way down the incline from the sidewalk and into the garden, pulling his wagon behind him. "But, in the end, it does not matter what is left undone each day. You do what you can, and if it is not enough, well, there is always another day, another year, and the chance to start over with a freshly plowed bed. There is no guarantee for a do-over when it comes to making a new friend."
    Helen hadn't really expected to make friends here at the garden. She'd been thinking of the activity more as it had been presented in the gardening books, as a solitary occupation that would improve her health and produce a bounty of vegetables. But she could use some more friends. Ever since she'd left Boston and her old way of life behind, she'd been having trouble establishing new friendships, especially with people in her own age group. She'd thought she was making progress in establishing a comfortable camaraderie with the president of the Friends of the Library, Terri Greene, but that had been before the incident with Victor Rezendes last fall, and their budding friendship was a little strained right now. From what Helen had seen so far this morning, the community garden might provide an excellent opportunity to meet some new people who, for a change, weren't murder suspects.
    "All right," Helen said, following Paul down the muddy path, "but I've got to warn you I'm a total newbie in the garden. I've read a lot, but it hasn't quite settled into my brain yet. All I know for sure is that I'd like to grow more of my own food since there's at least anecdotal evidence that a healthy, vegetable-rich diet and moderate exercise might reduce the frequency and severity of my lupus flares."
    "Gardening is good medicine." Paul knelt in the path beside the far corner of Helen's plot and laid out six pea plants on top of the freshly plowed dirt. "This is the northeast corner of your plot. If we plant the peas here along the path, they will not be shadowed by the taller plants you grow beside them."
    "Whatever you say." Helen had read about the different amounts of sunshine that various plants required and how tall different things grew, but there had been too much information to remember it all. She'd have to make some sort of chart when she got home. She was good with charts.
    Paul had all six plants in the ground in less than a minute. He stood, removing the damp dirt from his hands by brushing them against his jeans. "Uh-oh."
    This time, he was facing the road, not the farmhouse, so he couldn't have been reacting to another attempted escape from the Avery farmhouse. Helen turned to see the problem.
    A lime-green smart car had just double-parked next to the Harley. A short, middle-aged man with curly black hair emerged.
    "Here comes trouble," Paul said.
    "He doesn't look bad." In fact, he looked quite good. Even from a hundred feet away, she could see the dark shadow of facial stubble that emphasized his strong jawline and gave the impression that he was confident and