Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (9 page)

"No, and this looks delicious.” He took a plate out of the cabinet. “How'd it go today?"

"Real good. Peggy took over a huge chocolate cake, along with a big bean salad Kay had made. The Perlicks were delighted."

"I'm sure it lifted a burden off Carole's shoulders for you gals to volunteer your services,” he said, scooping large spoonfuls of food onto his dish.

"It would have worn her out to cook for such a crowd. There are still a dozen or more people there."

He moved around the bar and sat down on a stool. “They have many friends."

"Yes, they do.” She plopped down opposite him. “Enough about my day, how'd yours go?"

"Not real productive yet. Still doing background stuff. Once I get it completed, I hope the information will point me in the right direction to solve the problem. If there is one."

"Anything pique your interest yet?"

"I find it sort of disarming all the people passed away in their sleep. I did make a few calls to the relatives of people who'd passed away before the three mentioned Hamptons’ friends."

"Dig up anything of interest?"

"One call bothered me, but didn't concern the case.” He told her about Faith Lambert who was disliked by everyone, even her family.

Jennifer placed her fingers over her mouth. “Oh, my word. What a horrible story. How could children hate their mother so much?"

Sunday morning, Hawkman rolled out of bed and left the house at an early hour. The extra bear claw he'd saved at the office, with a cup of coffee, would make a good breakfast. He drove slowly around Copco Lake, knowing the deer roamed during the dawn hours, and he sure didn't want one to jump out in front of him.

Once on the freeway, he met light traffic, so accelerated to the speed limit, and arrived at the office in record time. He noticed the red light blinking on his answering machine, but first he put on the coffee and removed the pastry from the refrigerator, wrapped it in a paper towel, then zapped it in the microwave for a few seconds. Settling behind his desk with a full mug of steaming brew and the warm delicacy, he punched up the message.

Sybil's son, Jason Patterson, had returned his call and suggested he contact him at his home over the weekend. Hawkman wrote the number the man had recited on the yellow legal pad. He glanced at his watch and figured it was after nine, so probably a good time to call. Washing down the last bite of the bear claw with a gulp of coffee, he punched on the speaker phone and dialed.

"Jason Patterson,” a male voice answered.

Hawkman introduced himself again and explained why he'd called. “I'd just like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, even though I know bad things happen at nursing homes, I researched several, and found no black marks against Morning Glory Haven."

"I've discovered nothing in their background to suggest a problem. My main reason for calling is I wondered if you have any questions in your mind about your mother's sudden demise?"

"Yes and no. Mom had gotten up there in age and had trouble keeping her house clean, along with cooking her meals. My sisters and I were concerned about her using a gas stove. We've heard horror stories of older people catching their garments on fire. We tried to coach Mom into using a microwave for all her cooking as it would be safer. However, she wouldn't have anything to do with these new fangled devices, as she put it. When her friend, Maggie, decided to check into the home, it made it a lot easier on us to talk Mom into going too."

"Getting back to my question. Did your mother have health issues other than old age?"

"Sorry, I got on a tangent there. She was a border line diabetic, but it bothered the family when the doctor told us Mom's heart gave way and she passed in her sleep. We had no idea she had a bad heart."

"Maggie Hampton also said Sybil never mentioned such a condition."

"Oh, Maggie might say anything. She and Mom appeared to be best of friends, but Maggie drove her nuts."

"Really! In what way?"

"She toots her own horn a lot, telling everyone how they've gone from rags to riches. Mom said if she heard the story one more time, she'd pop her one. I got the feeling to hear Mom talk, the woman bragged to the excess."

"I see. Tell me did your mother have a private doctor?"

"She didn't see any specific physician before going into the home, because she seldom got sick, other than an arthritis flare-up now and then. She did go in twice a year and have a blood panel done to keep tabs on the diabetes. We thought her healthy. So her death did come as a shock."

"Was there an autopsy done?"

"No. We didn't suspect foul play. Mother was in her eighties; we just weren't prepared to lose her."

"Thank you for your time. If I have anymore questions, may I feel free to call?"

"Of course, and I'd appreciate a follow-up, if you find anything questionable."

"I'll certainly notify you."

Hawkman hung up and wrote down a few notes, then pulled the phone directory from the desk drawer. It appeared Maggie knew more about George's checkers partner than he did. He flipped open the book to the Parkers and ran his finger down the numerous names and came to a halt on Ed and Grace Parker. It gave an address he recognized as Medford, and he decided it might be a good idea to just drop by. Unplugging the coffee pot, he took his small recorder off the charger, stuck it into his shirt pocket, then picked up the valise, and left the office.

When he arrived at the residence, it surprised him to see cars parked all over the place and people mingling around the yard. It suddenly dawned on Hawkman that he'd come upon a garage sale. He probably wouldn't be able to speak to Grace at this time, but he'd make sure he had the right place. Lucking out, he found a parking place right in front of the house. He wandered around, observing the many things placed on tables, benches and on sheets spread across the lawn. Most of the items seemed to be male oriented. Several wooden checker boards were displayed and Hawkman figured these were Eddie Parker's treasures at one time.

A woman with gray braids wrapped around her head and secured with a large clasp sat on a card table chair near the back. Her braced leg rested on an ottoman. A younger woman accompanied her while several other females floated among the crowd, answering questions, watching customers, and taking money.

Hawkman approached the twosome. “Excuse me, is one of you Grace Parker, the sister of the late Eddie Parker?"

The older woman furrowed her brow. “Are you a bill collector?"

He smiled. “No, I'm Tom Casey, a private investigator."

She threw up her hands. “My word, that's just as bad. Yes, I'm Eddie's sister. I just lost my wonderful brother and am clearing out his stuff. Breaks my heart to do this. So what do you want?"

He explained why he'd been hired by the Hamptons and only wanted to ask a few questions about her brother. “This might not be a good time, since you're busy. I can make it another day."

She gestured toward a vacant stool. “Pull that over. It's as good a time as any."

He carried it over, placed it beside her, and sat down. He pointed to a table containing the checkers boards. “I understand Eddie and George Hampton enjoyed the game."

"Yep, I think they played every night. It thrilled me to know he had a crony to take him on. He loved the challenge and had gained the reputation of the hottest checkers player around. He'd have preferred George come down to his room, because Maggie drove him crazy, but she wanted them right there so she could keep an eye on the two."

Hawkman nodded. “Sounds like you were very fond of your brother."

Tears welled in her eyes. “I loved him dearly and hated being parted when he went into the home. However, he knew I had an arthritic condition,” she said, pointing to her leg. “I couldn't take care of him when he came down with gout. All the medications he took didn't agree with his system and there were days he couldn't even walk due to the pain. It would come and go, but when it hit, it knocked him out of whack for days, and was getting worse all the time. It started in his big toe and just traveled to all the joints in his body."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Were you surprised when he passed on?"

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my yes. I didn't suspect gout was life threatening. I guess it was worse than I thought, and affected his heart. Doctor said it just gave out from his pain and he died in his sleep. At least he went peacefully."

"Did he have a private physician?"

"No, he just went to the hospital when he hurt so much he couldn't stand it any longer."

"Did you by any chance have an autopsy done?"

She shook her head. “What good would it do. He was dead."

He stood. “I'd better leave, so I don't chase off any potential buyers. Before I go, could you tell me why Maggie bugged your brother?"

"All I know is he said she blabbed the whole time, and she was so possessive of George, she didn't want him out of her sight."

"Thank you for your time. If I have anymore questions, may I stop by?"

"Sure.” She waved a hand toward the merchandise. “Might as well check out some of this stuff. There must be something you can't live without."

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Hawkman left Grace's yard sale and drove away. Once he turned a corner, he pulled to the side of the road after his cell phone vibrated against his waist several times. He flipped it open and recognized Kevin's number. Hoping no emergency had occurred, he quickly hit the memory button.

"Hey, what's up?” He listened intently as Kevin related the events of the afternoon.

"Okay, I'll talk to her and clear up the situation. I'm headed over there right now."

Hawkman hung up and drove to Morning Glory Haven. Once inside, he headed straight for Maggie's apartment, and softly knocked. George opened the door.

"Hi, Hawkman. Come on in."

As he stepped inside, his gaze traveled around the apartment. “Where's Maggie?"

"She's out visiting her buddies."

"Why aren't you with her?"

"I can't keep up. My knees just give out."

"I thought you wanted her watched?"

"I do, but she had a fit with your man. He almost quit because she berated him so for following her around."

"His responsibility is to keep an eye on her. You hired my agency for that purpose."

"Yeah, I know. He did his job in spite of her ranting. She got really mad."

"I want to talk to her. Where do you think she is right now?"

He shrugged. “In one of the rooms, I reckon."

Hawkman gritted his teeth. “That doesn't help one bit. I want you to find your wife now and bring her back here."

George harrumphed, stood, didn't move for a moment, then grabbed his cane and hobbled into the hallway. He hadn't been gone five minutes when Hawkman heard the distinct sound of Maggie's voice and a walker scooting down the corridor.

When the two entered the room, Hawkman glared at her. “We need to have a talk, Mrs. Hampton."

She gazed at him with innocent hazel eyes. “My goodness, you look angry."

"Let's just say I'm not happy with you. You're not complying with what we previously set up. Having to put up with your shenanigans makes this job much harder"

She sat down on a chair in the corner and pushed her walking aid to the side. Taking a small mirror from her pocket, she checked her lipstick and hair. “I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me. You gave Kevin fits today. He's only doing the job you and your husband have hired us to do. We expect full cooperation."

She narrowed her eyes. “He doesn't have to follow me all over the building."

"Yes, he does.” He pointed at George. “He should have been with you at this time. From now on, you tell your friends to come by here so your husband or one of us is present at all times."

"Oh, good grief, I'm a big girl. I don't need a chaperone."

"Unfortunately, at this point in the investigation, you do. You're going to find it very awkward if we have to restrain you completely so we can investigate without worrying about where you are. The more you buck us, the longer it will take. Don't you realize if there is a murderer stalking these halls, he or she knows you've hired a private investigator. You could be the next victim."

Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my, I never thought about it in that vein."

"It's time you did. Promise you'll follow my instructions from now on."

She bowed her head. “I'm sorry I've caused this problem."

"Apology accepted. Now I've got work to do. I'll check in with you two later."

Hawkman left the room and took the elevator to the first floor. He doubted he'd find people in their offices today, but thought he'd give it a try. A door stood slightly ajar and the light from inside spilled a long streak across the carpet. He could hear the sound of a printer humming, and the click of fingernails on the keyboard of a computer.

He tapped on the door, forcing it to open a bit more, hoping to get a glimpse of the person before she spotted him. However, the movement caught her eye and she glanced up from her work.

"May I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Tom Casey, the private investigator."

"Oh, yes. Mr. Mackle told me about you. I didn't have a chance to meet you the other night as I was called out of town. I wouldn't normally be here, but needed to catch up on some paperwork. Please come in, and have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Hawkman took the chair in front of her desk and couldn't help but notice her very unusual coiffure. She had very short hair curled tightly on the top of her head, but the sides were straight and split over her ears. Not everyone could wear this style, but it flattered her thin face and long neck. What he could see of her, she appeared to be fairly tall.

"I'm Carmen Sanders, one of the Community Marketing Directors."

"I'm assuming you're familiar with the residents and probably know them by their first names."

She smiled. “Yes, it's part of my job, along with many other duties."

"Have any of the residents seemed hostile or uncooperative?"