Read Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] Online
Authors: Betty Sullivan La Pierre
He'd stop by Lisa's office when he returned to the home and see if he could find out the relatives of Ms. Owens. Getting this information quickly would be in his favor. Otherwise, depending on what the autopsy revealed, things could become a bit sticky.
When Hawkman returned to Morning Glory Haven, he went to Lisa Montgomery's office. Her door stood open, so he knocked softly on the jamb.
She glanced up from some paper work. “Come in,” she said, her forehead wrinkling into a frown. “I see you've heard the news."
"Yes, and I need to get a bit of information."
"I just talked to Gladys Owens’ daughter.” Lisa shook her head. “I hate that part of my job. The girl sounded devastated. She wanted to complete the move to her new home and planned to take her mother up for a visit.” She bit her lower lip and blinked back tears. “So sad."
Hawkman shifted his stance. “I can't imagine the agony of having to talk with someone whose parent just passed away. It can't be easy."
"No, it isn't.” Wiping her eyes with a tissue, she said, “Forgive me. Please have a seat, and tell me what you need."
He sat down and pulled a small note pad from his pocket. “What is Ms. Owens’ daughter's name and where does she live?"
Lisa opened the file. “Sidney Wilder, and she just moved to Eugene, Oregon.” She stated the address and phone number.
"Any other children?"
"She's the only one listed. Gladys’ husband passed away two years ago."
"Is the daughter coming to pick up her mother's things?"
"Not for a few days. Mrs. Owens’ physician broke the news to her and explained the body wouldn't be available for at least a week."
"What do you do with the deceased's belongings?"
"We clear the room of all the personal items and place them in a sealed container until the family can pick it up. Then we spend hours sanitizing the area."
"Is anything thrown away?"
"No. We leave that up to the family as we don't know what might be of interest to them. Every scrap of paper is put into the box."
He nodded. “Good. I might need to look through her things."
"I can't give you that kind of permission. You'll have to talk to her daughter."
"I understand.” He rose. “Thank you, Ms. Montgomery. You've been more than helpful."
She grimaced. “Mr. Casey, do you suspect foul play?"
"I don't know what to think at this point. I'm hoping the autopsy may give me a lead."
"What happens to the reputation of our wonderful home, if it's found Gladys Owens and some of the others were murdered?"
Hawkman sat back down. “I'd hoped the word wouldn't have traveled that I've been looking into the other deaths. I'd tried to give the impression that Maggie's life had been threatened and we were here as her bodyguards."
"I certainly never told a soul what we talked about. But gossip races through this home, and even the nurses in the other buildings are talking. I'm afraid Maggie's the culprit. She's told everyone why you're here."
He shook his head and threw up his hands. “Guess I should have known she couldn't keep a secret. All we can do is try to keep the lid on as tight as possible. I'll definitely be more closed mouth about what I tell her."
Lisa smiled for the first time since he'd been there. “Good luck."
Hawkman left her office and traveled down the hallway only to meet the Hamptons. Maggie had a purse dangling from her shoulder. “Where are you two going?"
"Maggie wanted to get away from all this trauma, and suggested we go shopping. Such a shame to lose Gladys. I really liked her.” George sighed and brushed his chin with his hand. “We've decided to go to the store, then out to have a late lunch."
"Did you inform Kevin you wouldn't be here?"
George snapped his fingers. “Oh, dang it, I knew I'd forgotten something. I better give him a call right now.” He turned and headed back toward the elevator.
"Hold on,” Hawkman called, removing the cell phone from his belt. “I'll give him a ring. I might not always be here the times you take off. So, please notify one of us of your plans or doctor appointments."
George limped back to them. “Thanks."
After Hawkman informed Kevin he wouldn't be needed today, he walked alongside the couple as they traveled toward the front of the building.
"You should be aware we go shopping about once a week, and pick up a batch of snacks. I also like to run by the house to see Pesky. Then we visit the doctor monthly for our checkups.” She flipped a hand in the air. “Furthermore, it's good for me to get away on occasions. Especially like today.” She made a face. “This isn't a prison, you know."
"How long will you be gone?” Hawkman asked.
"Not more than a couple of hours, three at the most,” George said. “Maggie can't take much longer or she gets too tired."
"Are you seeing your doctor today?"
"No, just shopping and out to eat."
Hawkman pushed open the big swinging door and held it as the Hamptons moved outside. “George, are you going to go home when you return?"
"Naw, I'll stay the rest of the evening."
"I need to talk to you two, so I'll stop by later."
George held open the car door for Maggie, then took her walker and slid it onto the back seat. When he settled under the steering wheel and pushed in the key, Maggie let out a disgusted grumble.
"What's the matter?” George asked, backing out of the parking slot.
"I'm getting a little sick of Tom Casey and that Kevin guy. I don't have a private moment."
"It won't last long."
"You and your brainy idea of having me watched every waking hour. It's nerve wracking. Why don't you tell him I don't need a bodyguard?"
"I want them here when I'm not around. If there's a murderer in Morning Glory Haven, I don't want him after you. So be patient."
"My patience is worn thin. He's so damned nosy. Wants to know everything about us and every move I make."
"Private investigators make it their business to inquire into every aspect. That's the way they get clues."
"Are we suspects?"
George rolled his head. “Come on, Maggie, use your brain. It could be someone connected to us. He's just not going to take a chance. Think about it. Sybil died right there in the same apartment you two shared. If someone murdered her, you might be next. That's one reason I wanted you moved into private accommodations."
She reached over and patted his leg. “I guess you're better at looking after me than I am taking care of myself. Thank you, my honey."
"No more of this kind of talk. Let's enjoy our outing. What do you want to do first?"
"Let's drop by the house so I can see Pesky, and I need to get a couple of things from my closet."
"Home it is."
George pulled into the driveway, and helped Maggie out of the car. While she stood clinging to the door, he retrieved her walker from the back seat. They made their way slowly up the sidewalk to the entry. When they entered the house, Pesky yowled and pranced around Maggie until she giggled.
"I do believe she's missed me.” She reached down and patted the dog's head. “My sweet girl, I wish I could take you with me."
"You could, you know. For an extra five hundred smackers. Then what would I do? I'd for sure lose my mind without Pesky here."
"Oh, George, I wouldn't take her away from you. She'd go crazy cooped up in my small apartment.” She laughed. “I miss her, but not that much."
"Can I help you get what you need from the bedroom?"
"No, give Pesky a treat and I'll tend to my items.” She could hear George playing with the dog as she rummaged in the closet and dresser drawers for the things she wanted. After putting them in a small duffle bag, she stood back and observed the clutter. “Oh, my, George, you are messy.” She returned to the living room, then moved into the kitchen and shook her head. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and the table still had crumbs scattered across the surface. “I'm going to look into getting you a housekeeper."
George frowned. “I don't need one."
She put a hand on her hip. “When did you last make the bed? The covers are all rumpled and half on the floor.” She pointed at the sink. “There must be a week's worth of dirty dishes in there. How come you don't put them in the dishwasher? Look at the lint on the carpet. It needs vacuuming."
"Things got ahead of me this week. Thought you said you didn't want any servants in the house."
"I'm talking about one woman once a week, not a hoard of caretakers running around. It would keep the place presentable. You just make sure you're here when she comes."
George shrugged. “I don't know who to get."
"Don't worry; I'll take care of it.” She abruptly turned and scooted toward the front door. “Okay, we better get going while I'm still up to it."
They shopped and had a light lunch at one of their favorite restaurants, then headed back to Morning Glory Haven.
"This has been a great day, George. I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate you."
He smiled. “Ahh, that's okay. I love you too."
They found Hawkman sitting in the large room as they came in the door.
"Hope you haven't been waiting long,” George said, guiding his wife inside.
"No, just got here about ten minutes ago. I went up to your place first, in case I'd missed you. I found Jessie and Margy huddled around your door as if they were picking the lock. I startled them and asked what they were doing."
George scowled. “What'd they say?"
"They said they were listening to see if you were home. When I asked why they didn't just knock, they said Maggie sometimes didn't answer her door. I told them they should take the hint that maybe she didn't want to be disturbed."
George threw back his head and laughed. “Good for you."
Maggie made a face. “I know those two old bags are harmless, but they're regular pests. They're always wanting to borrow something. I told them to go to the store and buy their own stuff."
Hawkman chuckled. “They both hurried away, mumbling to each other."
Once George had settled Maggie on the couch and placed her walker on the side, he turned toward Hawkman. “What did you want to talk to us about?"
Hawkman explained he'd like to speak with Dr. Karl Bunker, but knew he wouldn't be able to get anywhere without their permission. “I'd like you to call him and give your approval, plus write me a permission slip to check your files."
"Why in hell's name do you need to see our health records?” Maggie asked, frowning.
"It's all a part of this type of investigation. Things show up on health records that might help in a murder investigation."
She cocked her head to one side. “Such as?"
"Pharmacists, nurses, and other doctors who might have a connection to Morning Glory Haven."
"Really?” she asked. “Why wouldn't we know about it?"
"Because, it wouldn't be of any significance to your health."
"That sounds strange,” she said.
"I might find nothing, but on the other hand, a clue might appear."
She shrugged. “George, you better call Dr. Bunker first thing in the morning. I'll write up a permission slip and we can both sign it."
"Thanks, I appreciate your cooperation,” Hawkman said.
Wednesday morning, Hawkman went to the office early as he had the surveillance duty from noon until six. He pondered who to talk to next. So far, Kevin's reports had shown nothing to establish any sort of unusual activity around Maggie, other than her being obstinate on occasions.
It would be a few more days before the results of the autopsy came through, so no use fretting about getting hold of Gladys Owens’ daughter, Ms. Wilder, until the end of the week.
He picked up the phone and called the Hamptons’ physician, Dr. Karl Bunker, and set up an appointment for the next morning just before lunch. Good, he thought, then if we extend a little over the time, it won't matter, unless he has a fetish about eating right at noon.
Placing his notes inside the briefcase, he unplugged the recorder and shoved it into his shirt pocket. He noticed it made a big bulge due to his shoulder holster. Not having a pocket on the other side, he tested the openings on the jeans jacket and discovered they were too shallow. Reluctantly, he placed the small machine in his valise.
He'd grab a sandwich on the way to Morning Glory Haven. Doubting he'd come back to the office, he rinsed out his mug and the coffee pot, picked up his briefcase, then turned out the lights. The cool weather made for a pleasant day as he stepped outside. He brushed a spider off the door, locked up, and headed down the stairs. The aroma of baking pastries circled his head and made his stomach grumble.
After having a bite to eat, he journeyed over to the home and entered the building. Once he embarked from the elevator and turned down the hallway, he heard a familiar loud threatening voice, and hurried toward Maggie's quarters. He found her gripping the walker and barring the entry of her quarters from two women standing on the outside. Her face burned red with rage. He quickly stepped in front of the two females.
"What's going on?” he asked, turning toward Jessie and Margy.
Jessie pointed at Maggie. “She told us she's going to kill us."
"Why?"
"We don't know,” they said in unison.
Hawkman then faced Maggie. “Did you say that?"
"Yes. When George and I came back from visiting with a friend down the hall, I found these two trying to get into my apartment."
"What were you looking for?” Hawkman asked the women.
They shrugged. “Just wanted to visit."
"Can't you take a hint? I'm afraid I agree with Maggie; you've gone a bit too far."
"She wouldn't invite us in, even if we asked. Maggie doesn't like us. She's snooty, and won't even give us the time of day if we pass in the hall,” Jessie said.
Hawkman shooed the women away. “I think you better get going. I'd suggest you stay away from here."
They scurried down the hallway, and Hawkman glanced at Maggie. “Where's George?"