Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (7 page)

He settled behind the desk and moved a yellow legal pad toward him, took a big bite of a bear claw and washed it down with a swig of coffee. “Aaah, that's good,” he said out loud.

Punching on the recorder, he went through the interviews of Lisa Montgomery and Perry Foster. When he finished writing down the needed information, he read through the notes. Fred Horn's personal physician, Dr. Eva Paulson, might well be worth a visit to determine what she thought about her patient's death. It would be interesting to find out more information on those who'd previously passed. He hoped the relatives would be cooperative.

Hawkman gathered up his notes, and put them into a folder, which he then slid into his briefcase. When he left the office, he met Clyde as he came around the corner of the building.

"Hey, you're working late tonight."

The baker stopped and smiled. “Needed to clean the ovens and it always takes longer when I decide to mop the sticky floors."

"Sounds like a messy job to me."

He nodded. “Appears you're working overtime too."

"Yep, new case,” Hawkman said. “Have a good evening."

Both men waved and walked toward their vehicles.

Driving home, Hawkman went over the people involved in this case and wondered if anything would come of it. It seemed odd to have murders in an old folks home where the patients were destined to spend their last days. The world is a strange place, he mused.

He felt the tension leave his body as he rolled over the bridge and could see his house. Jennifer had every light on. She usually sat at her computer, but it looked like tonight, something had taken precedence. He drove into the garage and strolled in the front door. The smell of meat baking swirled around his nose.

"My word, what's going on? I've never seen so many cooking utensils out at one time in this house."

A dish towel flung over her shoulder, she moved a pan to the pile in the sink and lifted a large fancy bowl from the cabinet. “Hi, honey. Remember, I told you there had been a death in the Perlick family, and many people have journeyed to their home. A group of us got together and decided to take turns furnishing a dinner for a few days, until the company slows down. I'm fixing it for tomorrow."

"That's a very kind gesture from all of you."

"You know Carole would do it for us."

"Yes, she would.” He placed his briefcase on the counter and sniffed the air. “It sure smells good. What are you fixing for these lucky people?"

She counted off on her fingers. “I decided on ham, baked beans and potato salad."

He frowned. “So it's all going down the street? I love your potato salad and baked beans, not to mention ham."

Patting him on the shoulder, she grinned. “Don't worry, I'm making extra, so there will be plenty for us to have for our meal on Sunday."

His sad expression dissolved. “Great, it will give me something to think about besides eccentric old people."

She raised her brows. “Shame on you. We'll be old one of these days."

He rocked back on his heels and looked at her mischievously. “Didn't you tell me when I took on this case that it'd be a doozie? I'd be talking with a bunch of people who couldn't hear, have a hard time getting around and wouldn't remember what happened fifteen minutes ago."

Her cheeks turned pink. “Well, I really didn't mean it. However, you still might have trouble getting reliable information."

The timer dinged and she turned off the burner under a big pot of potatoes, put on a couple of mitts and carried it over to the sink where she poured the white cut up vegetables into a colander to drain, then checked the oven. She placed a big butcher block on the counter, then lifted out the pan containing a huge ham, and set it on the board to cool.

"I can't stand to see all this food in here when I can't have any. I'm going back to my office.” He lifted his briefcase off the counter.

"Expect Miss Marple to join you. Her nose is really out of joint because I won't allow her in here while I'm cooking."

He glanced behind him and sure enough their pet cat was at his heels. “Come on, little nosey. You're welcome to join me tonight. We're being punished something terrible.” Hawkman grabbed the toy stuffed bunny from the floor, then he and Miss Marple disappeared down the hallway.

Saturday morning, Hawkman arose quietly, so Jennifer could sleep. He had no idea how long she'd stayed up. When he hit the sack, he could still hear her banging around in the kitchen. He grabbed his jeans and a clean shirt out of the closet, then stopped at the guest bathroom to dress. When he went to the kitchen, Miss Marple stood in front of her empty bowl and let out a yowl.

He put a finger to his lips. “Shush, you silly feline. I'll get you some food. No sense in waking up your mistress. She had enough on her mind last night without worrying about you. Anyway, you need to lose some weight.” Reaching down, he stroked her back as he poured some dry food into the bowl. “I must say though, you are a pretty animal."

While a pot of coffee brewed, he had a bowl of dry cereal and milk. He needed to get to Morning Glory Haven, as they were having a couple of events today and he wanted the residents to get used to seeing him and Kevin with Maggie. Then he hoped to reach some of the sons or daughters of the deceased.

He rinsed out the bowl, and fixed a small thermos of coffee, leaving the rest for Jennifer. Tiptoeing back to his office, he picked up his briefcase and started to shut the door when he noticed the cat's toy on the carpet. He picked it up and tossed it into the living room as he passed. She bounced on it like a tiger after its prey. Smiling to himself at the sight, he scribbled a quick note to Jennifer and left it on the counter, then softly closed the front door.

Driving toward Medford, he planned his day. The bingo games at Morning Glory would begin at one this afternoon. Then tonight at six-thirty they had a magician scheduled. He doubted the events would use the same room. He planned to attend with Maggie, if she felt like going to them both. He'd have time this morning to try and reach some of the relatives.

Soon he arrived in the alley behind his office, parked and jogged up the steps. He unlocked the door, then set the briefcase next to the computer and noticed an envelope on the floor in front of the mail slot. He quickly scanned Kevin's report, which didn't indicate any unusual goings on, and Maggie had showed him a good time. Chuckling, he folded the sheet of paper and put it into his valise. So far, no clues were evident at Morning Glory Haven. He then removed the Hampton file and sat down at the desk.

The first name on his list was the beloved Marion Carter with only one leg. Her son lived on the East coast. More than likely, this number belonged to a cell phone; so hopefully, he'd be able to reach Jerry Carter without much of a problem. He picked up the receiver, punched in the digits, then pushed the speaker button. Flipping over a sheet on his tablet while waiting, he readied himself to take a few notes.

"Jerry Carter speaking."

"Hello, Mr. Carter, my name's Tom Casey. I'm a private investigator looking into deaths that have occurred at the Morning Glory Haven. I believe your mother passed away while a resident there."

"Uh, yes. Is there a problem?"

"Nothing we've uncovered yet. George and Maggie Hampton have hired me because they feel uncomfortable about three of their friends who have died, so I'm going back a little farther in time to see if there were any questions about others."

"I met the Hamptons. Very pleasant people. Mother had no serious health problems that we knew about, so her death came as a shock. Of course, we miss her. She was always so positive."

"I understand she was loved and always laughing."

His voice caught. “I wanted her to come live with me, but she insisted on staying in the area she knew. I could understand, so we put her in the best home there. I tried to come out and see her at least three times a year. I'd scheduled a visit the week after she passed away."

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard on you. But if you don't mind answering a few questions, it would help my investigation."

"Of course."

"Did you have an autopsy done?"

"No, the doctor said her heart gave out and she died peacefully in her sleep."

"Did she have her own personal physician?"

"Yes, but once she went into the home, she felt like going to see him on a regular basis would be too expensive, even though I told her I'd pay for it. Parents can be very stubborn. However, he did drop by and see her occasionally."

"What was his name?"

"Dr. Phil Hart. I believe he's associated with Mercy Hospital."

"Do you know if she ever saw any other doctor?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Would your mother have changed doctors for any reason?"

"Only if he was cheaper."

"I see. Thank you, Mr. Carter. This information helps a lot. If I have any more questions, may I call you again?"

"Certainly, any time. I pray you don't find any foul play."

"Me, too."

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Hawkman sat back in the chair and tapped the pencil on his desk. Then he leaned forward and circled the name Dr. Phil Hart at Mercy Hospital. Checking the list of the deceased, Faith Lambert appeared next, a woman not well-liked by the residents of Morning Glory Haven. He'd soon find out how the family felt.

Punching the speaker button, he dialed her daughter, Janis Hamel, and after five rings, a breathless woman answered.

"Hello,” she panted.

"I'm calling for Janis Hamel."

"Speaking."

Hawkman identified himself, and explained his mission. “May I ask you a few questions about your mother's death?"

"You can ask all you want, but I'm glad she's gone. She drove my brother and me nuts."

Not expecting such a response, it took him a moment to regain his composure. “Could you tell me the cause of her death?"

"Old age and crankiness. The woman hated life and everything about it. She bitched and complained until no one wanted to be around her. Even as kids we could hardly wait to get out of the house."

"Surely something physical occurred, like a heart attack or an ailment of sorts. Did she have diabetes or any other malady?"

"Yes, she had diabetes, but the doctor said her heart stopped. She died in her sleep."

"Who was her doctor?"

"I don't remember his name."

"Were you concerned about the sudden death of your mother?"

"Are you kidding. We were all relieved."

"So, you probably didn't have an autopsy done?"

"No way. We could hardly wait to bury her."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Hamel."

"You're welcome. Bye."

After hanging up, Hawkman stared at the phone for several seconds, then took a deep breath and jotted ‘forget this one’ alongside her name. As he arose from his chair to pour another cup of hot coffee, he wondered if Mrs. Lambert's kids could have done her in. He just couldn't fathom a mother being so hated by her own children.

Leaving it on speaker, he dialed the number of Lillian Nichols in Grants Pass, Oregon, one of Jacob Thompson's daughters. A young male voice answered.

"May I speak with Lillian Nichols please?"

"Who's calling?"

"Private Investigator, Tom Casey."

"Just a moment."

Hawkman could hear the boy yelling, “Mom, a private investigator wants to talk to you."

"Who?” a woman asked, as footsteps approached the phone. “Hello."

"Is this Lillian Nichols?"

"Yes, who are you?"

Hawkman again went through the dialog of explaining his purpose.

"I've talked with the Hamptons several times when Dad and I would take a walk around the building. So tell me again why they've hired a private investigator."

"They're concerned about the recent untimely deaths of three of their friends. I'm going back a little farther in time to see if the families of others who have passed away were anxious over their losses."

"Dad suffered from heart problems, so it didn't shock us too badly. We were thankful he passed away peacefully in his sleep. Of course, we never imagine our parents leaving us. When Mom went, it devastated the whole family. Dad was never the same after she died. He just seemed to lose all hope and became quite depressed. We couldn't seem to bring him out of it. Neither Nancy, my sister, nor I, could talk him into coming to live with us. We thought it might help to be around his grandkids. He wouldn't have any part of it and decided he wanted to live at Morning Glory Haven. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to lift him out of the slump."

"I understand. It must have been hard, and I hate to freshen the ache, but could I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure."

"Did your dad have a private physician who attended him?"

"No, he'd just make an appointment with any of the heart specialist at the hospital and go see them."

"Did those doctors confirm his problem?"

"Yes. So when we got him situated at Morning Glory Haven, I talked with one of the physicians he'd seen. He assured me he'd keep an eye on dad. Now whether he did or not, I have no idea. Dad was very private about his health."

"Did you request an autopsy?"

"No, we didn't think it necessary."

"I want to thank you, Ms. Nichols, for your time. If I have any more questions, may I call you?"

"Certainly. I'd like to hear back from you also. It's disturbing to think there might be a problem at Morning Glory Haven."

"We have no evidence of any wrong doing. I will definitely let you know if we find anything."

"I'd appreciate it. Have a great day."

"You, too."

Hawkman checked his watch and had enough time to call one more person. He again pushed the speaker button and dialed the wife of Ronald White.

"Hello."

"Is this Mrs. Edna White?"

"Yes, and if you're a salesman I don't want any."

He chuckled. “No, I'm a private investigator hired by George and Maggie Hampton."

"Oh, my goodness, why do they need you? Has something happened?"