Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  He worked on trying to organize his notes until about thirty minutes before the magic show, then headed out the door. Driving toward the home, he thought about what the magician might be like. This place had definitely gone all out to make the life of the residents not only comfortable, but enjoyable. No wonder Maggie didn't want to go home. She had everything at her fingertips.

  He pulled into the parking lot and it surprised him to see it almost full. Several cars trailed behind him, so he quickly found a slot before they were all taken. Checking his watch, he still had close to ten minutes before show time. He observed the people as they climbed out of their cars and headed for the entrance. Several children accompanied the adults. A pleasant outing for them; not only would they be able to see their grandparents, but would also be entertained. Good psychology, he thought.

  Hawkman climbed out of his vehicle and ambled toward the entry. When he walked inside, a line of people weaved down the hallway toward a small table with a person selling tickets. The room had been roped off and people entered once they'd bought in. He didn't see the Hamptons, so decided to go up to the second floor. When the elevator door slid open, the Hamptons were waiting and stepped inside.

  “I didn't realize these were public shows,” Hawkman said, moving over.

  “They aren't,” Maggie said. “Only family members of the residents can attend and we're allowed to bring a guest. Of course, we have to pay for them. Hope you brought some money.”

  “I'm covered. How much?”

  George pulled out his wallet as they strolled to the end of the line. “Five dollars a head, and three for children under twelve.”

  Hawkman gestured toward the crowd. “From the looks of this large group, the expenses should be covered.”

  “They usually get a good turnout on these types of shows,” George said. “Kids love a magician, and Saturday is a good time to come see grandma or grandpa.”

  The line moved swiftly, and they found good seats almost immediately. Hawkman noted they had a stage and a spot light from the ceiling, along with large speakers on each side. He leaned toward the Hamptons. “This is a great setup. Bet it cost a small fortune to buy all these props.”

  George nodded. “Believe me, we pay for it.”

  The lights dimmed and the show began. The magician did an excellent job. He held everyone's attention by telling funny stories along with doing tricks, and involving the audience which kept the younger set in stitches. After the performance, Hawkman walked the couple back to Maggie's apartment.

  “I really enjoyed myself,” he said. “The guy was good. He even had me laughing at his antics.”

  Maggie flopped down on one of the small couches in her cozy living room. “Their entertainment here is usually excellent. I don't think we've seen a show yet we didn't like. In the warmer months they have all sorts of festivals between the buildings around the fish pond. Very pleasant.”

  “No wonder there's a waiting list for this place. I'm sure the word has gotten around about all the benefits.”

  Maggie put her feet up on the ottoman. “George, could you pull off my shoes and get my scuffs out of the closet? These are not my most comfortable pair.”

  He obliged and shook his head. “Women. I don't understand why they have to have everything a size smaller than they wear.”

  “Oh, George. They're the right size, they're just made different.”

  Hawkman raised a hand. “Before I forget, tell me the schedule for meals on Sunday? Do you have the normal three a day routine?”

  “Oh, yes.” Maggie said. “The dining room is open all day, just as it is during the week.” Maggie looked at him questionably. “Why are you interested in the meal schedule?”

  “Just curious. What about people who are vegetarians, or allergic to certain foods?”

  George stroked his fingers across his chin. “On the menu are special dishes you can order. So it's no problem.”

  “How is it you get to eat in the dining room, but don't live with Maggie?” Hawkman asked.

  “We pay a small extra fee for me to have at least two meals a day.”

  “Hawkman nodded, then turned toward Maggie. “I'll get out of here so you can prepare for bed. Thanks for a pleasant evening, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Maggie rose, tottered a moment, then grabbed her walker. “Oh, I hate almost losing my balance.” Once stable, she added. “Have a good evening.”

  Hawkman headed down the hallway, wondering why Maggie appeared anxious for him to leave. He glanced over his shoulder as he waited for the elevator, and spotted her coming out of her room, pushing the walker at quite a rate of speed.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hawkman thought about returning to Maggie's apartment, but decided against it, as George could handle her antics. He realized Maggie's freedom to roam the halls and visit her cronies had been squelched by her hovering bodyguards. She probably felt like a caged animal and needed a breather. Also, she needed to reassure her friends that things were okay.

  Driving home, he thought about his schedule for tomorrow. He planned to arrive at the office early, then later in the day drop in on Maggie and see if anything new had developed. He still needed to get in touch with Gracie Parker, the old maid sister of George's checker partner, Eddie, and to touch base with Sybil's son.

  When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the faint glow of a lamp through the kitchen window. Entering the house, he put his briefcase on the counter and found Jennifer lounging on the couch with a throw over her legs, engrossed in a television program. Miss Marple cuddled beside her, raised her head for a moment, then nestled back in the groove of Jennifer's arm.

  “Hi, Hon,” Hawkman said.

  She put a finger to her lips. “Just a minute, it's almost over and I don't want to miss the ending.”

  He nodded and opened the refrigerator. His mouth watered at the sight of the potato salad and baked beans she'd saved for their Sunday dinner.

  “I could see you drooling all the way in here,” Jennifer laughed. She crossed into the kitchen, pulled out the bowls of food and a large package of ham wrapped in foil. “Go ahead, there's plenty for tomorrow too. I gather you didn't get a chance to eat.”

  “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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  * * *

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  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.”