"Broken Hearted Killers" - Chapter Fourteen

The following blog entry is one chapter in “Broken Hearted Killers,” a serial novella written by 16 Writers Who Kill. To read the complete story, please begin with Chapter One, published on the WWK blog on February 2, 2023.

By James M. Jackson

While they waited for Gus, Helen asked Nella, “Did Charles tell you who your father is?”

“He told me my father died overseas while serving in Army. He refused me a name. Confidentiality,” he said. Tears leaked down her cheeks. “Iris was going to meet Charles that Saturday and change her will to leave me a quarter-million dollars. Can you believe it? Well, can’t miss what you never had.”

That was a fine attitude, if indeed Nella believed it. Frankly, Helen had her doubts. “Does Ashley know who her biological parents are?”

Nella pursed her lips. “No, but she used the present tense, so she thinks they’re alive.”

One thing was clear—Nella and Ashley weren’t twins. With their skin tones, they certainly had different fathers, and they were at least five years apart in age. And wait—that time with the multi-car traffic accident when all the Page Turners had rushed to donate blood. Iris, Helen remembered, had been blood type AB positive, Helen was the only A, and Gus the only B. Everyone else, including Ashley, was O. Ashley could not be Iris’s biological daughter.

“Nella, do you recall your blood type?”

Nella scrunched her face in confusion. “AB positive, why?”

The obnoxious doorbell ring prevented Helen from sharing her conclusions. Nella popped up and motioned Helen to remain seated. The door opened with a squeak she needed to do something about. In honeyed tones, Detective Diego Torres said, “So glad you’re here. I wanted to see you, too.”

Helen stood and called, “Come in, Detective. Did Gus O’Boyle phone you about the incident?”

Helen smiled to herself as Nella fussed over Torres until he agreed for her to fetch him a glass of water.

Torres waved Helen back to her seat and took the chair opposite her. “I haven’t spoken with Gus since he brought in the red envelope, the pictures, and the toy train. What incident?”

Helen told Torres about the strange man accosting her regarding Ashley. Halfway through relating the incident, she surprised herself and again broke down in tears.

Torres nodded in all the right places and asked what she had done after the confrontation.

“Nella phoned and came over immediately, and then I called Gus. I didn’t want to bother you with a triviality when you have a murder and two assaults to investigate.”

Torres gave her a sad smile. “That number has changed. Significantly. Good news is that Charles regained consciousness and claims his assailant was a husband who discovered his wife was having an affair with Charles.” Torres placed a finger to his mouth. “That’s confidential. I take it you’ve been home for the last two hours?”

Nella used the opportunity to perch on the arm of Torres’ chair and thrust her phone at him. “You can see I called her here.” She pointed at the screen. “Then I came right over. You’re not telling us something. Is Betty the realtor still unconscious?”

“Sadly no, she died. That is now a murder investigation.” Torres turned piercing eyes toward Helen. “When we reviewed the video surveillance at Iris’s condo for the day of her death, the only person we saw was your neighbor Renee. We didn’t see you or Gus enter or leave.”

“I took the freight elevator.”

Nella tapped Detective Torres on the arm. “Iris used the regular elevator, but she hated recording anyone else, so she told everyone to use the freight elevator if it was available and avoid the camera.”

Torres waved for Helen to continue, so she regaled him with the entire story: Renee was wrong about Iris being scared because nothing scared Iris. Since Renee was wrong about that, Nella must be correct that Iris telling Renee to “tell the police to look to Helen Hornsby” was to encourage Helen to help find the answers. So, when Betty gave her the key, it was like a sign that she had to look. “There wasn’t any crime scene tape, so I figured it was okay.”

Torres secured the purloined key in an evidence bag. “So, if Iris was relying on you to solve the mystery, what have you discovered?”

“I don’t have any proof, but….” Helen shared the details about Iris supposedly getting married, contracting for a new home, and planning to sell her condo.

Helen also explained what she had learned during the emergency blood drive. “Iris had the same blood type you have, Nella. AB positive. Ashley is type O. She can’t be Iris’s biological child.”

Nella looked like she had been pole-axed. Torres downed his water and asked Nella for more. She left in a zombie state. Torres pulled a blown-up mug shot from his attaché and handed it to Helen. “Could this be the man you saw?”

Helen’s mouth went dry. He could be Nella’s twin. Same dark bronze complexion, narrow nose, wide mouth, straight eyebrows, and hairline. Cover up his mustache and you had Nella. She snuck a look at Torres to see if he’d cottoned to the resemblance.

“Interesting, right? Did you read the details?”

Typed below the picture were his name and vitals. Jared Ahlgren—he was Ashley’s ex! His height and weight could fit her assailant. Reading his date of birth, her heart skipped two beats, then thumped back into action. Jared Ahlgren and Nella were twins. Was it possible that Iris was Nella’s mother—Nella and Jared’s? Was that why Iris was going to leave Nella a quarter million dollars?

“Gus told Nella Jared was AWOL from his work-release program. Do you know where Jared is?”

“We do. Sadly.” Torres traded Helen a sealed plastic bag for the mugshot.

Nella returned with the water glass. “What’s that?”

Helen’s stomach clenched. “A bloody letter opener.” She turned to check the top of her desk. Missing.

Torres said, “It has an HHH monogram. Yours, I assume?”

Helen mutely nodded, then asked, “Where did you find it?”

“Unfortunately, in Mr. Ahlgren’s heart. You kept it on the desk? Who’s been here since you last used it?”

Helen found herself unable to form a thought. Nella said, “The three of us,” waving her hand to include Torres. “Oh, and the realtor Betty August. And we asked Renee to check on her because she looked ill. They knew each other.”

Torres scratched notes. “But not Gus?”

Nella looked at Helen, who found her voice. “No, and no one other than Nella has a spare key.”

Torres’ face darkened. “I’m afraid I have more bad news. I hate to break it to you like this, but we found Gus in the same alley with Mr. Ahlgren. Preliminary indication is he died of a heart attack.”

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Jim Jackson is a founding member of Writers Who Kill. As James M. Jackson, he authors the Seamus McCree series. Full of mystery and suspense, these domestic thrillers explore financial crimes, family relationships, and what happens when they mix. August 2022 saw publication of the 7^th novel in the series, Granite Oath. Jim splits his time between the wilds of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and the city life in Madison, WI. You can find more information about Jim and his books at https://jamesmjackson.com or contact him at jmj@jamesmjackson.com.