Read Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] Online
Authors: Betty Sullivan La Pierre
"What would you look for that would make you request one?"
"There is the possibility an older person might ingest a poison without even knowing what he's doing. If a person dies of toxic poisoning, there are signs, such as facial contortions or limbs drawn up, and usually they could call for help before death. With insulin overdose the patient may not be aware they need help, especially if they've taken a sleep aid."
"Dr. Grahm, I'm not sure how the police will look at this situation. I'd just advise you to have a lawyer handy. I appreciate your confiding in me, and I'll certainly come to your defense. Right now I think you'd better contact the police, and let them know what has been discovered. It's possible Ms. Owens was murdered."
His shoulders slumped and his mouth turned down in a grim line. “I had a feeling you'd give such advice. I've already contacted an attorney and will call the authorities before the afternoon is over. I'm sure you'll know when they've been notified, as uniformed men will invade Morning Glory Haven."
Hawkman left a shattered doctor and headed for Morning Glory Haven. He wanted to warn them of the upcoming confusion, so they could handle the situation in a calm manner. The case now took on a new look as his mind kept traveling back to this morning, when he found the full insulin pen in Maggie's room.
Hawkman stopped on the side of the road before reaching the home and called Kevin. He explained what he'd just learned and warned him to be very vigilant on guarding Maggie, and double check anyone loitering around her apartment. Kevin understood the graveness of the problem and assured him he'd be on high alert. After hanging up, Hawkman exhaled loudly.
He stared out the windshield as he rang his friend, Detective Williams of the Medford Police Force. After warning him of what might be coming down the pike, he pulled back onto the pavement and continued toward Morning Glory Haven.
Hawkman worried mostly about the time span during which George supposedly kept an eye on his wife. He knew Maggie had her husband tied around her little finger and could get away with murder. “Ugh,” he murmured, as he drove into the parking lot.
When he entered the building, it appeared more quiet and subdued than normal.
He wondered if the news had already reached the staff. Riding the elevator, he stepped out on the second floor, and turned toward Maggie's quarters. Margy and Jessie hurried past him coming from the opposite direction and he suspected they'd been harassing Mrs. Hampton again.
When he knocked on the door and received no answer, he roamed up and down the hallway searching for any sign of her or Kevin, but to no avail. “Where the heck are they?” he hissed. Then it dawned on him. There could be a program going on in the entertainment hall. He hurried back to the main floor and down the corridor leading to the center.
The door stood open to the area where he'd joined George and Maggie for bingo. He poked his head inside, and spotted Kevin in a chair against the wall, his head bobbing up and down as he caught a snooze. Maggie sat at the table in front of him concentrating on an array of artificial flowers as she worked them into a small vase. A woman stood in the middle of the circle of tables talking about colors and how to compliment your bouquet.
Hawkman quietly made his way down the side until he arrived beside Kevin and gently poked him on the shoulder. Almost jumping out of his seat, Kevin jerked around and stammered. “Yeah, time to go?"
Hawkman shushed him and pointed to the door.
Kevin brushed his hand across his mouth. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly as Maggie glared at him.
The two men exited into the hallway.
"Thanks for rescuing me,” Kevin said. “Some of these programs are not my choice of entertainment."
"I'm concerned we might have a real problem on our hands,” Hawkman said, stopping before they got out of sight of the craft room.
"From what you told me on the phone, it could be a horrible situation."
"Possible murder. The police will be here soon, and they'll want to question all the residents and staff; but I have my suspicions they'll concentrate on the diabetics. They're going to want to know what kind of insulin George uses and no telling what else. I just wanted you to be prepared when you see the uniformed guys entering the home."
"Does the director know about this turn of events?"
"I'm not sure if Mr. Mackle's been notified, but I'm heading for his office right now."
Kevin looked at the floor and shook his head. “You want me to tell Maggie? You know they're going to ask about the other deaths."
Hawkman shrugged. “If you want, or I can tell them both when George comes back this evening. I don't think there's any reason to scare Maggie about getting questions on the other deaths. Only if they classify Owens’ death as murder, will there be a deeper investigation and then the bodies might have to be exhumed."
As he leaned against the wall, Kevin's expression turned grim. “Any of these people could be suspect."
"True, and anyone who has access to insulin."
He shot a look at Hawkman. “You mean Maggie, too?"
"Yes."
Running a hand through his thinning hair, Kevin let out a sigh. “Maggie's not going to take this news lightly, and George is going to wish he'd never consented for his wife to live here."
"I agree with you on both accounts. You better get back to the craft room. I've got to catch Mr. Mackle before he leaves. I'll see you upstairs shortly."
Kevin headed back to retrieve Maggie. At the doorway, he, turned and watched his boss striding toward the row of offices.
Hawkman stopped in front of the closed door marked ‘Director’ and knocked. A young woman he hadn't seen before poked out her head. “Yes, may I help you?"
"Is Mr. Mackle in?"
"Yes, do you have an appointment?"
"No, but would you ask him if he has time to speak with Tom Casey."
"Okay, I'll check.” She closed the door, but within a few seconds was back holding it open. “Please come in."
The office was larger than the others he'd been in. A partition separated the receptionist's desk from the main room where a large oak desk took up much of the floor. A computer and other business paraphernalia cluttered the surface. Four leather chairs were situated around it in an orderly fashion. Mr. Mackle stood staring out the window, his thick gray hair shining under the light. His suit jacket hung over the back of the desk chair, and his white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up as if he'd been working manual labor. He turned abruptly.
"Ms. Lindsay, why don't you take a fifteen minute break. I need to speak with Mr. Casey in private."
"Okay.” She grabbed a small handbag off her desk and exited.
"Have a seat, Mr. Casey. Unfortunately, I know why you're here. I received a call from Dr. Grahm about thirty minutes ago. This is a very serious situation. Many jobs are at stake, not to mention the reputation of this institution."
"I realize your dilemma. This could have been an accident, but if a murder was committed and the culprit is outside the realm of the staff, the home will regain its credibility in no time."
Mackle flopped down in the chair behind the desk. “I realize what you're saying is true, but during the length of an investigation, how many of my residents will leave or be yanked out by relatives fearing for their loved ones’ lives? News like this travels like wildfire and I won't be able to fill those apartments until people know it's safe. The home will lose so much financially, it could force us into bankruptcy. Also, I'm fearful of lawsuits. We could be inundated with them from former relatives whose loved ones have passed away at Morning Glory Haven.” He dropped his head into his hands. “It's a nightmare, Mr. Casey. A horrible, horrible, nightmare."
"I'm sure your insurance will cover many things, plus I'm assuming you have lawyers to protect the establishment."
Mr. Mackle, leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “Yes, of course. I'll be in touch with them first thing. Right now I'm just trying to absorb what's happened."
"The police will be here soon. Have you informed your staff?"
"No. I should do that immediately.” He rose from the chair. “They'll be scared spit-less when the uniforms start coming through the door."
"I'd advise it, and you might want to have the residents stay in their rooms instead of roaming the halls. This way it would be easier to keep track of everyone."
"Mr. Casey, you must excuse me so I can get things in order before all chaos breaks loose."
"I understand,” Hawkman said, as he headed for the door. “If you need any help, I'm available."
"Thank you."
As Hawkman stepped out of the office, the group of seniors had just exited the craft workshop. He stood back and watched as they paraded down the hallway toward their quarters. Each clutched a vase or flat dish holding their creations. When Maggie and Kevin filed by, he fell into the line and followed.
Once they arrived at her apartment, she pushed her walker to the side and flopped down on the small sofa in the sitting area. “Okay, what's going on? Kevin wouldn't tell me a thing about why you called him outside."
"I didn't think it appropriate to give you bad news in a public place,” Kevin said, placing the artificial flower bouquet on the coffee table. “Now that Mr. Casey is here, he can explain the situation."
Her gaze lit on Hawkman. “Well?"
After he told her about Dr. Grahm receiving the results of the autopsy and what it revealed, her hands flew to her ashen face. “Oh, my, this is morbid news. Who in the world could have done such a deed?"
Hawkman raised his hands. “Hold on. I'm not saying it was murder; it could well have been an accident. I just wanted you to know the police will probably be here shortly and everyone will be questioned. Especially those who have access to insulin."
"What if some stranger killed her?"
"Now, Maggie, you're jumping to conclusions. We don't know anything yet. But the police will come. They'll question all the employees and residents extensively, then make a decision if they feel foul play is involved."
Maggie shook her head. “What about the other poor souls who died earlier?"
"I have no idea whether they'll exhume the bodies or not. It'll depend on the conclusion of the lab tests on Mrs. Owens."
George walked in at the tail end of the conversation, and his eyes grew wide as Hawkman clued him in on what had occurred. He sat down beside Maggie and took her hand. “I want to get you out of here and take you home. We'll manage somehow."
She pulled away, and looked him in the eye. “I have round the clock protection. Why should I go home and end up yelling at you to come help me all the time?"
He looked at her with pleading eyes. “I'd do it."
"That's not the point, George. We don't have to make each other miserable. I don't want to hear anymore about me going home until I can care for myself."
Hawkman pulled up a chair so he faced the Hamptons. “You two can discuss this at another time. Right now I need to talk to you about what's getting ready to come down the pike."
Maggie frowned. “How does this involve us?"
"George is diabetic and insulin is available. I need you to keep track of all the pens, how much insulin he's taken, and what's left. There's a possibility some may have gotten stolen. The times you thought George lost his, it might have ended up in a murderer's hands."
She hugged herself. “Oh, my word. I can't believe someone would steal insulin. Sleeping or pain pills I can see, as people get addicted to those.” An expression of fear flashed across her face. “Is it possible we could be suspects?"
Hawkman nodded. “Yes."
She grabbed George's arm. “We could go to jail."
"Let's not go to extremes here,” Hawkman said, leaning forward. “I want you to listen and do what I tell you. For the next few days, as hard as it may seem, I don't want you leaving your apartment. I'm hoping Mr. Mackle will give those instructions to all the residents. Every item in here will probably be searched by the police or an investigation crew. Don't try to hide anything, because they'll find it, and it will make you look guilty."
Suddenly, their heads all jerked toward the commotion in the hallway. Hawkman quickly crossed to the door, where he saw a couple of the staff members, followed by two police officers herding a group of residents down the hall. The seniors’ voices had become excited with fear as they scuffed down the corridor.
"Things are going to be okay,” one of the management kept reassuring them. “We'll stay with you if you like."
Hawkman turned to the Hamptons. “The police are here. I'm going to go talk to the detective. I'll be back shortly. Stay calm."
"I'm leaving too,” Kevin said, as he followed Hawkman. The two men stepped out of the elevator and strolled toward the front of the building.
"I'll see you tomorrow,” Kevin said as he exited.
Hawkman waved, then continued the search for his friend, Detective Williams. When he passed the entry to the dining room, he saw several of the kitchen crew huddled in clusters of two or three. He knew they were scared and worried. His gaze traveled over the group of officers and plain clothes-men guarding the entry. He spotted one he knew, and approached him.
"Hi, Matt."
"Mr. Casey, what are you doing here?"
"Long story. Is Detective Williams with you?"
"Yes.” He pointed toward the row of offices.
"Thanks.” He headed for Mackle's, where the door stood ajar.
The young receptionist he'd seen earlier in the day stood against the wall biting her fingernails, a frightened look on her face. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him, and she edged farther down the hall.
Hawkman stopped outside the door for a second, until he heard and recognized Williams’ voice. Then he stepped inside.
The detective twisted around and held out his hand. “Hello, Casey, looks like we have a complicated case developing."
Mackle looked at one, then the other, his brows furrowed. “You know each other?"