Diamonds Aren't Forever

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  It made him nervous that Hopkins hadn't shown. Suddenly, he heard a siren and his attention riveted toward the sound. He spotted red lights flashing against the front windows as the emergency vehicle pulled up alongside the building. Some attendants yanked back the tall fence and allowed it to drive partially onto the tarmac. He craned his neck to see what had happened. Had Hopkins secured a rifle and somehow managed to get to the roof? He hadn't heard a shot and noticed Security appeared unfazed as they moved people out of the way of the incoming passengers. Yet, the paramedics were huddled over someone on the ground.

  Detective Williams flashing his badge, raced toward the exit.

  Hawkman followed. “Any of your men spotted Hopkins?"

  "Not a sign."

  A large man heading toward the door bumped into the detective.

  "What happened out there? Williams asked.

  The man shrugged. “Just some lady fainted,” he said in broken English.

  Suddenly, a hoard of people, jabbering their native tongue and laughing, congregated around the man, forcing Hawkman and the detective to push their way through the crowd. By the time they reached the outside, the emergency vehicle was on its way out the gate, lights and siren blaring.

  Hawkman stepped aside and viewed the other passengers entering the terminal. At that moment, his cell phone vibrated. “Casey, here."

  "Hawkman, this is Patti. Shirley Ann Noland has been taken to the hospital."

  "Do you know if she'd been shot?"

  "Dear God, I hope not. The paramedics think she either fell or fainted. She seems okay, but they're going to have her checked out."

  "That's a relief. Where'd they take her?

  "Rogue Valley Medical Center."

  "Thanks."

  Hawkman glanced around for Detective Williams and spotted him on his cell phone heading toward him. Meanwhile he kept an eye out for Carl Hopkins.

  "They've taken Jamey to the hospital,” Hawkman said.

  Williams pointed toward his phone. “Yeah, just got word. You think she planned this?"

  "Anything's possible with that woman,” he said, as they walked back into the terminal.

  "What do you think Hopkins is up to?” the detective asked.

  "That's got me puzzled. I thought for sure he'd be here. But with all the patrol cars around and the police swarming the area, he may have decided it wasn't worth the risk."

  The detective scratched his head. “I think I'll pull my men. Since Hopkins didn't appear and Jamey's on her way to emergency, there's no need to keep them here."

  "You're right. I'm heading for the hospital."

  "What are you going to do when you arrive?"

  "Damned if I know,” Hawkman said, rubbing his chin. “At least I can check and make sure that Carl Hopkins isn't around."

  "Well, he didn't show here, so how would he know that she's been taken to the hospital?"

  Hawkman shot him a look. “He'll find out somehow. This keeping up with Jamey is driving me crazy and you're not helping with those questions. Here we are, trying to protect her, and she's avoiding us like we've got a disease."

  Williams grinned. “She doesn't know what we're doing. Her fear is we've found something against her that deals with the diamond heist. She's scared to death to show her face around law enforcement, afraid we'll arrest her."

  Letting out a sigh, Hawkman nodded. “You're right. And I doubt she has any suspicion that Hopkins is within a thousand miles of here. It's becoming quite a screwy situation."

  "Keep me informed,” Williams said. Meanwhile, I think I'll send a couple of officers to find Hopkins. We need to keep an eye on him."

  The two men walked toward the exit. The detective frowned. “Hopkins probably has several alternate plans. I figure the next in line is the title company. I've got my plainclothesman ready, and I'll have a couple of guys stake out the building.” He stopped and glanced at Hawkman. “The way you've eyed the roof makes me suspicious. Do you think our ex-con has acquired a rifle?"

  Hawkman glanced toward the apex. “I hope to hell not."

  * * * *

  The paramedics had tossed a lightweight sheet over Jamey's body, which she proceeded to pull over her head. When she felt the gurney move, she peeked out from underneath the cover and felt a wave of relief. They weren't taking her through the terminal. Instead they were heading toward the ambulance parked nearby. Once they placed her inside, one man climbed in the back with her and the other shut the rear doors. The driver slammed the side door, whipped a U-turn, flipped on the siren, and headed for an opening in the gate. Jamey noted her purse, hat and bag had been slid in alongside the gurney.

  "Where are you taking me?” she asked, raising her head.

  "To the Rogue Valley Medical Center,” he said, without looking up as he wrote on a clipboard. “A doctor will check you over."

  "I'm okay. I don't need a doctor."

  "We'll let him decide that. Could you give me your name, please."

  She sighed. “Shirley Ann Noland".

  "What's your address?"

  "South America."

  He glanced at her. “Pardon me. Did you say, South America?"

  "Yes. Is there something wrong?"

  "No, not at all. Just surprised me."

  "That's all the information you need. I'll pay whatever the cost in cash for this ride."

  The young man frowned. “It could run you anywhere from three to five hundred dollars."

  She narrowed her eyes. “I said, I'll pay for it in cash. There will be no need for any billing data."

  He slipped the pen into the clipboard holder. “Okay, whatever you say.” Taking hold of her wrist, he checked her blood pressure. “Hurt anywhere?"

  "No.” Jamey said, yanking her arm away. “How long before we're there?"

  "Any minute,” he glanced toward the front. “In fact, we're pulling up to the emergency entrance right now."

  "Could you hand me my purse and hat, please? And put my bag down by my feet."

  Jamey waited until they'd rolled her into the hospital before she climbed off the gurney, pushed on her hat, grabbed her purse and suitcase, then marched into the receiving office. “I want to pay the bill for the ambulance."

  The clerk grimaced. “No doctor has examined you yet."

  "I don't need a doctor."

  "You're refusing care?” she glanced at the paper. “Ms. Noland?"

  "Yes. I'm from out of the country and I'm in a hurry. Please tell me what I owe."

  "I'll need you to sign a release form first."

  "Fine. Where is it?"

  Frustrated, the clerk fumbled around in several file drawers before finally pulling out a piece of paper and shoving it in front of Jamey.

  After quickly reading through it, Jamey signed Shirley Ann Noland, and paid the bill. “Now, where can I get a taxi?"

  The woman pointed toward the pay phone. “You can call from there. There's a number on that sheet of paper hanging on the wall."

  Jamey quickly dialed, ordered a cab and disappeared out the exit. She hurried around to the front entrance and stepped inside the door, figuring Hawkman would soon know she'd been taken to the hospital. He'd go straight to the emergency room. She had to get out of here. Feeling light headed, she dropped her bag at her feet, then tapped her toe and gnawed on her lower lip as she stared out the glass door. It seemed like an eternity before she spotted a yellow taxi coming around the parking lot toward the front entry. She picked up her bag and hurried to the curb.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Hawkman jumped into his 4X4 and took off for the hospital. He figured they'd give Jamey, aka Shirley Ann Noland, a good check-over since she collapsed on City property. They'd make sure they protected their butts, even if she tried to give them a hard time.

  The words of the man who bumped into him and the detective kept running through his head. Something about a woman who had fainted. Hawkman didn't recall Jamey having any health problems.

  It took him ten minu
tes to reach the medical center, and he had no trouble finding a parking spot at this hour. Strolling into the emergency entrance, he stood in line at the admitting window, then asked where he might find Shirley Ann Noland.

  The woman raised her brows. “Why do you ask?"

  "I'm a friend of hers and supposed to pick her up at the airport. They told me she'd been brought to the hospital."

  "Well, she isn't here,” the woman snorted.

  "What do you mean? An ambulance just brought her in about thirty minutes ago."

  She nodded with a look of disgust. “Yes, they did. But that little gal jumped off the gurney, signed a release, paid her bill and took off."

  "Did someone pick her up?"

  "I have no idea. She asked where she could call a cab. Now who she called, I couldn't tell you.” The lady pointed a stubby finger toward the pay phone hanging on the far wall. “I did see her deposit coins and dial. She talked a few minutes, then took off out the door. That's the last I saw of her."

  Hawkman could hardly believe his ears. “Thanks.” He slapped the counter and walked out. Climbing into his Chevy, he mumbled. “Damn, how does that woman manage to stay one step ahead of me?"

  He unclipped the cell phone from his waistband and called Williams.

  "You want me to start tracking down the cabbies?” the detective asked. “It could take several hours."

  "Forget it. No telling where the woman would be by the time we ran down the driver. We'll just wait until the title company meeting, and pray that Hopkins doesn't get to her first."

  Hawkman cruised by the hotel and spotted Carl's and Jake's cars in the parking lot. This bothered him. What did Hopkins have planned next?

  He then noticed the surveillance crew parked in the lot across the street. Williams worked fast. Figuring the situation would be taken care of until morning, he decided to go home and get some rest.

  * * * *

  The cab driver glanced in his rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb. “You okay Ma'am? You look mighty bedraggled."

  "Yes. It's just been a bad day."

  "When you have to visit a hospital, it's usually upsetting."

  "You're so right,” Jamey sighed. “Could you take me to the nearest motel. A nice one, please. I didn't have time to get a reservation."

  "Sure, ma'am. There's one just up the street that's walking distance to the hospital."

  "That will be just fine. Thank you so much."

  He drove up to the front door and Jamey paid the fare, plus a generous tip, and got out. She went inside to the lobby.

  "May I help you?” the clerk asked.

  "I need to use your phone to make a local call."

  "Sure,” he said, placing it on the counter.

  Thankful she remembered the number, she punched it in, then walked away as far as the cord would allow, keeping her voice low. “Yes, this is Shirley Ann Noland. I arrived on the last plane from San Francisco and due to circumstances beyond my control, I couldn't pick up the car I rented. Could you deliver it to the motel where I'm staying as soon as possible."

  "Sure can. What's the address?"

  Jamey pushed some strands of hair out of her face, put her hand over the mouth piece and turned toward the clerk. “What's the street address of this motel?” She relayed the information and asked, “How soon can you have it here?"

  "We're not busy, so I'll send it out right now. I'd say you'll have your car within twenty minutes."

  "Great. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

  She replaced the phone on the hook and smiled at the young man behind the counter. “Do you have a ladies’ room?"

  He pointed to the left. “Right before the entrance to the restaurant."

  "Thanks."

  Dragging the suitcase behind her, she shoved open the door to the restroom, glanced in the mirror and let out a loud gasp. Her hair hung in loose strands around her face and dark half circles appeared under each eye. Then she felt a stinging sensation around her knees. Scooting up her pant's legs, she surveyed large abrasions on her shins, obviously caused by the fall on the runway. “Oh, God, what else can happen?” she mumbled.

  She retrieved her brush and compact from her purse. Taking down her hair, she gave it a good brushing and let it fall around her shoulders. Then she refreshed her face with a little lipstick and powder. While going through all these motions, her mind drifted to her fainting spell on the runway. I've never passed out in my life. Certainly seeing Hawkman in the terminal wouldn't have caused that, so what the hell did? She shrugged her shoulders at her reflection and said aloud. “Stress can do that to a person and God knows I'm under it."

  Checking her watch, she dropped the grooming articles into her purse, adjusted her hat and gave herself a last minute check before leaving the room. She strolled outside and sat down in a chair at the main entrance, placing her bag beside her feet. Within a few minutes, two cars entered the driveway in front of the motel. A man hopped out of the first one with a clipboard in hand.

  Jamey stood as he approached. “Hi, are you Shirley Ann Noland?"

  "Yes."

  "I need your credit card and a picture ID."

  After Jamey showed him the needed identifications, and signed the bill, he handed her the keys. “Have a good stay."

  "Thanks."

  He got into the waiting car and the two men drove away. Jamey climbed into the big luxury Cadillac that she'd requested. That turned out easier than anticipated, she thought. At least I have transportation now.

  She glanced at her watch which showed three o'clock in the morning. Too late for a drink. The bars were closed. But she really needed rest more than anything. Starting the car, she drove out of the lot.

  "A shower would sure feel good,” she sighed. She already knew where she planned to spend the night and drove toward her little house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Charley found it hard to sleep past five in the morning. Living on a farm, it had been his practice for years to rise early, a habit not easily broken. He yawned, stretched his arms above the covers and brought his bare feet to the floor. After scratching his hairy chest, he slipped on his shirt and put his feet into the legs of his bibbed overalls, then hoisted the straps over his shoulders. Pulling on his socks, he stuffed his feet into his work boots and meandered into the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. He rubbed a hand over his two day beard and decided he'd better shave today.

  Chuckling to himself, he thought about what a fit his wife would have, if she could see his overgrown whiskers. “God, how I miss her,” he said aloud.

  He crossed the room to the front door. “Let's see if the paper's here. Might as well read what's going on in the world, as bad as it may be."

  He stepped out on the front porch, with his eyes cast toward the ground. Spotting the paper at the lawn's edge, he shook his head. “Boys used to hit the porch. Now they don't take the time."

  Bending to pick it up, he spied the white Cadillac parked under the front oak tree. “What the...” he grumbled. “Now, who would pull clear up into my yard at this time of the morning?” He tucked the paper under his arm and strolled over to the vehicle.

  Peeking into the fogged up window on the passenger side, he noticed the driver's seat tilted all the way down. He could vaguely make out the outline of a body. Long brown hair hung over the collar of a jacket thrown over the person's shoulders. “Why the hell would some woman drive up so close to the house and sleep in her car?"

  Charley raised his fist to knock on the glass, then decided against it. Maybe I should let her rest. It's still mighty early. I'll catch her before she leaves and find out who she is and what's going on. He went back inside and opened the blinds of the window overlooking that area of the yard.

  Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table so he'd have a good view of the vehicle. Unwrapping the paper, he glanced through the headlines, but couldn't concentrate on any article, as his gaze kept dri
fting toward the Cadillac.

  Time moves slowly when you're waiting for something to happen, he thought, and refilled his coffee cup. He poured a bowl of dry cereal, added milk and munched as he watched. The sun shone down on the car, warming it until the fogged windows cleared. About eight o'clock, he noted some movement inside the car and decided to approach it. He wanted to make sure this person didn't make a habit of sleeping in his yard.

  Moving around the back of the vehicle, he came up to the driver's side and tapped on the window. The sleepy woman ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it aside so Charley could see her face. He stepped back in surprise.

  She turned on the key and rolled down the window.

  "Hi. Guess you're wondering what I'm doing here?"

  "You might say that. You're that young woman I met for lunch a few weeks ago. Said you represented the owner of this house. Let's see your name is Shirley, uh, Shirley Noland. Right?"

  She nodded. “Do you have some coffee made? I could sure use a cup right now."

  "Yeah. Come on inside.” Charley opened the car door and gave her his hand.

  "Oh my, I feel like I've been sleeping in a cocoon,” she said, stumbling. “I'm stiff as a board."

  He laughed. “Get used to it. The older you get, the more often it happens."

  "Thanks,” she said smiling.

  Charley's suspicions grew, based on Hawkman's information about this woman. She really owned the place and obviously played games. Well, he could play, too. Once in the kitchen, he poured her a cup of coffee and set it on the table. “So why are you sleeping in your car?"

  She waved a hand. “Nothing you'd find interesting. I figured I'd be safe here. Believe me, it won't happen again."

  "Safe from what?"

  Jamey picked up the steaming mug and blew on the hot brew. “A man."