The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “Sounds like she's a good shot. You know Laura King?”

  “Yeah, she's Cindy's friend. A nice gal. I like her, but she's awfully shy.”

  “I'm sure your friend told you I'm looking for someone who is capable of shooting up an office and harassing my client. Do you know of anyone who might be doing such stunts?”

  “Only the Wallace brothers. They're brazen and ornery. My dad would skin me alive, if I got into any sort of crazy trouble. You scared poor Jason; he thought you were accusing him. He didn't recognize you, but I did the minute I saw you at the door. Most people know you as Hawkman. You have the reputation of being fair and honest. When Jason told me ‘Tom Casey', it didn't register who you were, but the minute I saw the eye-patch, cowboy hat and boots, I knew immediately.”

  Hawkman glanced at him. “Thank you. Have we met before?”

  “Not personally. But several years ago, you brought your falcon to the high school and gave a talk on wild birds. You demonstrated how you'd trained the bird to fly off, then come back to your arm when you whistled. It really impressed me. Do you still have the hawk?”

  “I remember that lecture. I have a new falcon now, her name is Pretty Girl. Pretty Boy died of old age.”

  “Is she as good?”

  “Yes. More demanding, but that's a female for you.”

  Blake laughed.

  Hawkman stood, and held out his hand. “It's been a pleasure talking to you. Tell Jason not to fear me. I'm only doing my job. When people have nothing to hide, it shows in their demeanor. He showed fear, but not evil.”

  “Thanks, I'll tell him. It will relieve his mind,”

  “If you hear any scuttlebutt around the campus about someone bragging on shooting up offices or causing flat tires with their arrows, would you give me a call?” He handed Blake his card.

  “Sure, be happy to.”

  “Have a good week.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Hawkman headed toward Cindy Brown's address. Something in his gut told him to be prepared for a different experience. The feeling didn't pertain to her being female. He'd gotten the impression, from the boys’ comments, along with Laura's, that Ms. Brown just might be a bit sassy and arrogant.

  Approaching the neighborhood, Hawkman noticed the upgrade from where the boys’ lived. Each home appeared architecturally different, and the landscapes distinct from one another. Not as high class as where the Wallace's lived, but close. Hawkman found the house, and parked in front. The three car garage door stood open and he observed a Cadillac, Porsche and the latest red Corvette convertible parked inside.

  He meandered up the curved, aggregate side walk to the front door and pushed the bell. The chimes, sounding like a million bells, rang throughout the house. He reached into his pocket and turned on the recorder before a silk skinned young woman popped open the door and met his gaze with big, beautiful blue eyes. She looked about five feet five inches, slim, very long naturally, blond hair, and cleavage you could see extending beyond the top button of her denim blouse. She wore tight jeans and a pair of athletic shoes. Cindy Brown did not look like a bowman. She also seemed a bit surprised when she saw Hawkman.

  “Oh, hello. Sorry, I was expecting someone else. Can I help you?”

  “I'm looking for Cindy Brown.”

  “I'm Cindy. Who are you?”

  “Tom Casey, private investigator.” He showed his badge.

  She frowned. “What do you want with me?”

  “I'd like to ask you a few questions concerning your compound bow class.”

  “Really? What the heck does that have to do with a private investigator?”

  “Maybe nothing. I just hoped you could provide information about the students.”

  “Who hired you to look into the group?”

  “I'm not at liberty to give you that information.”

  “Sure sounds fishy, but come on in.”

  She led him down a long hallway, where they met a servant, clothed in white attire, and carrying a stack of linens. Cindy stopped for a moment. “Greta, I'll be in the den if anyone wants me.”

  The woman nodded and continued her trek to a set of huge double-doors, which she opened and disappeared behind.

  Cindy turned into a large room furnished with a television flat screen, which almost took up one wall, and was encircled with plush, overstuffed couches. She led him over to a corner where a small group of chairs surrounded a small oak table. A dictionary and thesaurus lay on the surface. She pushed the books to the side, and gestured at one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

  After Hawkman sat down, she positioned herself on the opposite side.

  “Okay, ask your questions, but first, how'd you know I took the archery class?”

  “I interviewed your teacher, Roy Summers. He threw your name out, along with Jason Calderidge and Blake Russell as some of his students.”

  “Did he say anything good?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “He said not all women can handle the compound bow, but you were doing a noble job.”

  “Thanks, I love it.” She put her hands up as if handling the bow and releasing the arrow. “When you hit the bulls-eye, it gives you such a high.”

  “Have you ever used it on game?”

  “Not yet, but I can hardly wait. Right now, I don't have time to go hunting, I'm too busy attending classes at the college.”

  “Do you have your own bow?

  “Oh, yes. Having your personal gear makes a great difference.”

  “What do you think of Jason and Blake?”

  “They're okay. We have a lot of fun laughing, and carrying on. Sometimes things get mighty dull on campus, and a sense of humor can carry you far.”

  “What about Laura King?”

  Cindy jerked her head around and Hawkman would have sworn he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. “We have a couple of classes together, but she doesn't bow shoot. So what does she have to do with this line of questioning?”

  “Nothing. I've already talked with Jason and Blake. They both mentioned you and she were friends.”

  Cindy shrugged. “We're cozy on campus, but that's about as far as it goes. She doesn't socialize; therefore, we don't have much in common.”

  “Do you date Jason or Blake?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Heaven's no. They at least socialize, and go to some of the dances, but I have a boyfriend.”

  Hawkman raised a hand. “Back to the archery class. I'm being harassed by someone who's using a compound bow to shoot arrows into my office building and vehicle. Would you by any chance have heard anyone bragging or mentioning these incidents? Sometimes people gloat over their bad acts.”

  She shook her head. “No. The only people who'd do such things are the Wallace brothers. One of these days those two are going to be thrown into jail and the key tossed away.”

  “I've heard this from several people.”

  “Well, it's true. They're down right evil.”

  “Have you ever dated one of them?”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Good grief, no. They've asked, but I wouldn't touch either of them with a hot poker. Not only are they vile, they're beasts.”

  Hawkman took a business card from his pocket. “If you hear of any foul play going on, would you give me a call?”

  “Sure. Sorry I couldn't help out.”

  He stood. “Keep your eyes and ears open. It just might help.”

  Cindy walked him to the door.

  He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat as he stepped onto the porch. “Thanks for talking with me.”

  “You're welcome. I'll give you a call if I hear anything suspicious.”

  Hawkman turned off the recorder and left the area. Cindy didn't appear to be a spoiled brat, like he halfway expected. The thing that bothered him was the fear he saw in her eyes when he mentioned Laura's name. Was she an artful actress pulling the wool over his eyes or
is there something he missed about Laura? Maybe Cindy felt a tinge of jealousy when he mentioned her, since Laura appeared as a natural beauty with a flawless complexion, and Ms. Brown tended to overwear the make-up. Jennifer had tried to enlighten him about how the female mind works, but he'd never been able to figure it out. No sense in trying now.

  He still felt no closer to catching the villain, as he did the first day he started this case and it frustrated him. Someone kept harassing Laura King and making him the target of the arrows.

  The cell phone on his belt vibrated against his waist. He pulled to the side of the road, and put it to his ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Who's this?”

  “Your threats don't scare me.”

  Hawkman took the phone from his ear and stared out the window. The same voice he'd heard before made the threatening call, but he still couldn't place it. It appeared there were several people in this caper; he just hadn't connected the dots. The Wallace brothers were suspect. Then Jason and Blake came to mind, but he really doubted those two would be involved in such a risky deal due to their parent's influence.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Cindy stepped into the small waiting alcove beside the front door, and peered out the sheer curtains covering the windows. While staring out at his vehicle, she flipped the business card between her fingers. Once he drove off, she tore the card into pieces and tossed them into the wastebasket in the corner.

  Strolling out of the small room, she met her mother coming down the hallway. “Hi, sweetheart, who rang the bell?”

  “A man from the school, taking a survey on my archery teacher.”

  “That's interesting. Why would they do an inquiry on Mr. Summers?”

  “Because he's hired from outside the school community. They probably want to make sure he's doing a good job.”

  She smiled. “I hope you gave him high marks. He's certainly won you over.”

  “Oh, I did. I wouldn't want anyone to replace him. He's an excellent teacher.”

  “I'm going out for the day. Is Brett taking you to dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be sure to tell Kay not to fix anything for you.”

  “Okay. Have a good day, Mom.”

  “You too, dear.”

  Cindy pranced toward the kitchen with a smile on her face. “I'm so good,” she mumbled.

  Kay, the cook, turned as Cindy entered. “My goodness, girl, you look happy. Is a good looking young man coming to court you?”

  Cindy laughed. “Yes, you won't need to fix me any dinner. We're going out.” She put a finger on her chin. “Which dress should I wear?”

  Kay put a hand on her ample hip. “The blue one. Sets off those eyes of yours like fireworks.”

  “You're right.” She gave the cook a big hug, and ran out of the room.

  Monday morning, Hawkman dropped by the police station to see if Detective Williams had received the lab reports on the arrows. He put his head inside the door and found the detective hunkered behind the desk, as usual, his hair fallen across his brows, bent over a stack of papers. “You told me a couple of years ago you were going to get some help with signing all that crap.”

  Williams jerked up his head. “Are you kidding me. They've cut our budget to the point, I'm lucky to have a job. I don't even complain anymore.”

  Hawkman moved into the room, scooted up a chair and sat down. “I'm almost afraid to ask if you've heard anything about fingerprints on those arrows.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He shuffled some papers and pulled out two sheets, then lifted a sack from beside his chair. “Here are the arrows in case you might need them for evidence. This all came in this morning. Don't think you're going to find it much help.”

  “Really?” Hawkman said as he took the reports and glanced through them. “Looks like they couldn't get clear prints. What's this one mean? It states, ‘print on shaft appears to be feminine rather than masculine'.”

  “I'd take it as a smear, but the lines were a little finer. So they're just making an observation. It wouldn't hold up in court.”

  “Interesting. They only found this on one of them?”

  “Yeah, that one came from your office. The ones Deputy Tom sent in, nothing could be pulled off. Too smudged.”

  “Tell the techs I appreciate their effort. Are these reports for me to keep?”

  Williams nodded. “Have you had any more incidents?”

  “A phone call or two. They're now warning me to stay clear or else. Whatever that means. Nothing I need your assistance in yet.”

  The detective shook his head. “They don't seem to realize threats make law officers more eager to hunt them down.”

  Hawkman smiled. “You're absolutely right.” He got up and placed the chair back against the wall. “I won't keep you from your work.”

  “Let me know if you need my help.”

  “Will do. Have a good one.”

  Hawkman stuffed the papers into the sack of arrows, and left the police station. He tossed the bag onto the passenger seat and drove toward the Kings’ ranch. Figuring Laura would be at class, he thought it would give him the opportunity to talk to Olly about his hired hand, Ed. He'd also like to know if Violet followed through with her threat about calling Al Wallace. While traveling, he flipped on the personal GPS which tracked Laura's whereabouts and found her on the campus in a classroom. Satisfied she was safe, he turned it off.

  He parked at the front of the house, still not feeling comfortable in going to the back, as he considered it the family entrance. After he knocked on the front door, Violet answered and a wave of fear swept across her face.

  “Is Laura okay?”

  “Yes, she's fine. Just checked her out on the tracker and she's in class. I needed to check with Olly on a couple of things.”

  “He's at the barn; come on through, no sense in you walking all the way around the house.”

  As they meandered along, Hawkman said. “My curiosity is burning to know if you called Al Wallace about his boys’ behavior in the parking lot.”

  She placed a hand at her neck. “I usually don't do impulsive things, but I was so mad. After you left the house, I went right to the phone and gave Al a piece of my mind about his two ornery kids.”

  “How'd he react?”

  “He apologized all over the place, and told me he'd handle it. He said those two would rue the day they'd mistreated one of their mother's friends.”

  “I hope he sees it through.”

  Violet cocked her head and gazed up at Hawkman. “You know, I think he will.” Then she pointed out the back door. “Olly's in the big barn over there.”

  He stepped outside, as she held the screen open. “Thanks.”

  When Hawkman reached the structure, he yelled through the huge door, “Mr. King, are you in here.”

  “Yeah, over here by the feed bin.”

  Following the sound of the voice, he sidestepped a cow patty, and carefully avoided the rear of a mule munching on a bucket of feed. He found Olly at the far end of the building, raking dirty straw into a pile. He glanced up.

  “Is my little girl okay?”

  “Yes, she's fine. I just came out to see if you'd checked on Ed's bow, and if it was still hanging in his garage?”

  Olly pushed back his straw hat, leaned on the rake, and narrowed his eyes. “It's not there. Ed and I were standing outside his place in front of the open garage and I casually asked him where the bow went that had hung in there for years.”

  “What'd he say?”

  “He didn't know. Figured some of the extra hands we hired last year to work in the fields stole it. He got so used to seeing it hanging there, he hadn't paid much attention. Then suddenly one day he noticed something missing, and realized the bow had disappeared, along with the quiver holding several arrows. He had no idea how long it had been gone. It bothered him to think someone had walked into his garage and run off with it. Ranger,
his dog, was probably with him in the field, because he's very protective of their property, and wouldn't have let just anyone wander into one of the buildings without putting up a big fuss.”

  “So, he has no idea when it vanished?”

  “Say's he doesn't. I can understand.” He waved a hand around the barn. “There's stuff stored in here I wouldn't ever miss.”

  “You think Clay might have taken it to practice out in the field?”

  Olly shook his head. “Not without askin'. Besides, the bow was old and probably needed work. Clay wouldn't know beans how to fix it.”

  Suddenly, Hawkman felt a thud against his back; then his body took a flying leap across the floor where he landed on his knees in the pile of straw. He drew his gun and flipped around, taking aim at the old mule he'd cautiously walked around earlier.

  “What the hell?”

  He glanced over at Olly, who was laughing, and slapping his thighs so hard, he could hardly catch his breath.

  “Wish you could have seen your face when you went a flyin'. You were standing in Long Ears’ path out of the barn and he don't step around nobody. He just knocks them out of the way.”

  Hawkman holstered his gun, and watched the old mule slowly trod out the barn door.

  Olly wiped the laughter tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “A big laugh is good for the soul. That one will do me for a week or more.” He placed the rake against the wall, then reached over and gave Hawkman a helping hand. “Hope he didn't hurt you none.”

  Grinning, Hawkman brushed off his jeans. “No, just bruised my dignity a bit. Believe me, I'll stay out of Big Ears way.”

  They walked up to the house. “Want a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I've got work to do, so I'll be on my way.” He exited around the house and climbed into the 4X4. As he headed down the road, he chuckled to himself, thinking about Olly telling Violet of the episode in the barn.

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