Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] Read online

  Pesky had followed them in and eyed their guest with big begging eyes.

  “I think she smells the treats I've brought.”

  George let out a hearty laugh. “Well, for heaven's sake, don't make her suffer. Give them to her.”

  Hawkman pulled the bag from his pocket and before he could take one out of the package, George butted in. “Make her do a trick. She can do about anything you ask.”

  Hawkman tested her with certain commands and the dog proved her worth of receiving all the goodies. When finished, she went to the rug on one side of the room and lay down.

  “Smart and very friendly dog. I like her.”

  “I enjoy her company very much. Especially, since Maggie's not here.”

  Hawkman placed his arms on his knees. “Forgive me for asking, but it looks like you have plenty of money. Why didn't you just hire a driver and a nurse to take care of your wife, instead of putting her in a home?”

  George shook his head. “Maggie going into Morning Glory Haven was not my idea. She insisted.”

  “With all this luxury, why would she want to go?”

  “We weren't born with it. It took lots of work from both of us to get to this stage in our lives. We married young and worked hard. Then one day Maggie and I decided to start our own company. She couldn't have children, so we struggled together to build our fortune. When I sold out, it brought us enough to live very comfortably for the rest of our lives. However, Maggie never got over the feeling of being poor. She said she'd worked out the expenses. It would take four or five house servants to take care of things, and she never liked the idea of having strangers running around our home. So she figured going into the independent living place would be half the price. The driver, food and entertainment were all included in the fee. I couldn't talk her out of it.”

  “Do you think she'll return one of these days?”

  George sighed. “I don't know. She really enjoys all the people who surround her and she's staying pretty healthy. The doctor says her condition is about the same.” He waved a hand in front of him. “I don't think she'll ever come home.”

  “I'm assuming you were serious about keeping a watch over her during the hours you weren't there, until we decide it's safe. What about the nights?”

  “Yes, I'm serious about having someone there during the day. It won't be necessary at night, as she can lock the door. Since Sybil passed away, I've told the staff I want Maggie in a one bedroom unit. It's about five hundred dollars a month cheaper. They'll move her into one when it's available.”

  “Remember I warned you, the cost is exorbitant when I have to bring in an extra man to do this type of work. I can come in some of the days, but I have other cases and need to give time to those.”

  “I understand.” George said. “What do you have in mind?”

  “We need to set up a schedule.”

  “Okay, I can be there at eight in the morning and stay until noon. I can usually run my errands in three or four hours.” He raised his hands and let them drop on his thighs with a thud. “Takes me longer with these danged knees. I'll make sure I'm back by six o'clock to take Maggie to the dining room. Would that work?”

  Hawkman jotted down the information. “Yes, I think so. Once I line up one of my guys, we should meet at your wife's room so she can be introduced to me and the one who will be sharing her day. Then my man can get familiar with her routine. We'll need to check with the head of the place and get his approval. He may not take to strangers lingering around your wife. It could make for an uneasiness.”

  “No, problem. I'll handle that end.”

  “Does Maggie know what you're up to?”

  “Not yet. I plan to tell her tonight.”

  “How do you think she'll take it?”

  “Oh, she'll have a fit. This is one time I'll stand my ground and not give in. When she realizes I mean business, she'll simmer right down, give me a kiss and a hug for loving her so much.”

  Hawkman opened the brown envelope and removed the papers. “Here's the contract, and the extra page I typed up for the service of another person. I'll need a down payment to get started.”

  Hampton took a pair of reading glasses out of his pocket and read through the agreement. “This is a very good document, and easy to understand.” He signed both copies, then worked his way to the edge of the couch, pushed himself up with the armrest and latched onto his cane. “Let me get my checkbook and we'll start this process rolling.”

  Hawkman wondered why the man had never gotten his knees fixed. He definitely had the money. Of course, he didn't know George Hampton's medical condition and doubted he'd ever get it out of him. Hampton returned in a few minutes and handed him a check.

  “Will this do for now? I can always write another when the money runs out.”

  Hawkman glanced at the sum of five thousand dollars. “This should do us for quite a spell. All depends on how long this case will drag on. I'll get in touch with you when I line everything up.”

  Hampton pointed a finger. “I expect to hear from you tomorrow.”

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  CHAPTER THREE

  Hawkman deposited the check at the bank, stopped at a fast food drive thru, grabbed a hamburger and drink, then drove to the office. His mind churned with the first orders of business on this case. He needed to contact one of the two retired police officers, Kevin Louis or Stan Erwin, who usually helped him out. It would be interesting to hear their reaction to watching an older woman in a senior's home. For sure, the job wouldn't appeal to them, but the pay might.

  He pulled into the alley, parked and climbed the stairs carefully so as not to spill the soda. When the aroma of pastries wrapped around his nose, he mumbled to himself, “Wonder which has the most calories, my lunch or a bear claw?”

  Once inside, he sat down at the desk and unwrapped the sandwich. As he ate, the thought rolled around in his mind that George Hampton might have gone over the top in assuming murders had taken place. People were usually old and some sickly when placed in these homes. Many needed twenty-four hour care, and would spend their last days in this type of environment. He looked forward to seeing the facility.

  Once Hampton got permission from the management to allow him to do his job, it'd be interesting to see how the staff of Morning Glory Haven liked their routine being interrupted by a one-eyed investigator hovering around one of their female residents. He figured George would float a few bucks in front of the top guys and the plan would probably go down okay. Money always seemed to talk.

  After finishing his lunch, he pulled the yellow tablet containing his notes in front of him and dialed Kevin Louis, then punched on the speaker phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Kev, Hawkman here. How's life treating you?”

  “It could be better. Had to take my pickup in for repairs and it cost me an arm and a leg. I hope you're calling to offer me a job. I could use a little extra dough right now.”

  Hawkman chuckled. “You must be living right, as that's exactly why I'm contacting you. The pay is good.”

  “Well, so far it sounds interesting, but when you beat around the bush, I get antsy.”

  Hawkman laughed, then explained the situation, the salary and what Kevin's role would be. “Does that sound intriguing?”

  “Not at all, but I'll take it. When do I start?”

  “We'll meet at Morning Glory Haven tomorrow evening so you can meet George and Maggie Hampton. I'll get back to you about the time.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Hawkman hung up, drummed his fingers on the desk and smiled to himself. “Yep, money talks,” he said aloud.

  He pulled the phone directory from the drawer in his desk and looked up the number of Morning Glory Haven, wrote it on the folder, then picked up the receiver.

  “Yes, could you put me through to Fred Horn's room, please.”

  He listened a moment.

  “Oh, no, this can't be true. I'm an
old service buddy of his just passing through town, and thought I'd pay him a visit. Can you give me the name of his nearest kin so I can contact them and give my condolences?”

  Hawkman jotted down the daughter's name and phone number.

  “Thank you so much. This really makes me sad. I'd so hoped to see him.”

  He hung up and leaned back in his chair. It surprised him to get the information so easily. Maybe because the guy had died, they figured there wouldn't be any threat to the home.

  Not wanting to try the same method to get information about Eddie Parker, he decided to let George take on that job as they were checkers buddies, and the staff knew they were close. The same with Sybil Patterson. Since she shared a unit with Maggie, they probably confided in one another. If not, Maggie had the advantage of finding out her former roommate's nearest relative more quickly than he could.

  He also needed to get a list of the staff. It would be big. He had no idea how many residents the place held, but the buildings spread over acres of land. Some of the employees had to be there twenty-four hours every day, ranging from professionals, aides, to the guys or gals who mop the floors and keep the bathrooms clean. If George's accusations were correct, any one of them could be a killer, and they all had access to the rooms. He doubted the management would turn the names over to a private investigator, due to the privacy act, and he certainly didn't have any evidence showing foul play, so a subpoena was out of the question. He might have to do a little snooping during odd hours.

  He glanced at the name of Fred Horn's daughter. Susan Palmer lived in Ashland, Oregon. At least she lived close by and not in another state. Just as he slid the meager notes into the folder, the phone rang. He reached over and punched on the speaker. “Tom Casey, Private Investigator”

  “Mr. Casey, I'm so glad I caught you. This is George Hampton. I'm visiting Maggie right now and she's having a fit. Says she won't consent to my plan unless she can meet you tonight. Is there a chance you could drop by here on your way home?”

  “Sure, I can be there within thirty minutes.”

  “Whew, what a relief. See you soon.”

  Hawkman grinned as he hung up. What will Maggie think of a private investigator with an eye-patch, who wears a cowboy hat, jeans and boots to work? Too bad he didn't live closer. He'd drop by and pick up Pretty Girl, then walk into her room with the falcon perched on his arm. He chuckled as he stood, placed the file in his briefcase, slipped the recorder into his pocket, and headed out the door.

  When Hawkman arrived at Morning Glory Haven, he realized he didn't know Maggie's room number. He was very impressed with the outside appearance as he strolled into a large open foyer that looked like an elegant living room. A woman was working at an oak desk, her head bent over a bulky ledger. He stopped and observed a nurse pushing a man in a wheelchair toward an elevator.

  After several moments, he crossed the room toward the person at the desk. She wore a suit, instead of a white uniform, and looked more business oriented. When he stopped in front of her, she glanced up and her eyes widened.

  “Uh, may I help you?”

  “Yes, I'm looking for Maggie Hampton's room.”

  She started to thumb through the papers on her desk, then laughed. “I'm sorry, she's not in this section. This is the assisted living group. Maggie is in the independent building.” She pulled another book toward her. “Mrs. Hampton was just moved into a one bedroom unit on the second floor, room 202. She pointed toward a double glass door. “Go through there to the next building. The elevator is on your right. Is she expecting you?”

  “Yes.” Hawkman touched the brim of his hat. “Thank you.” He walked briskly through the doors into a beautiful area lined with river rocks, a large fish pond and a waterfall splashing down a stepping stone structure. Luscious green plants surrounded the border. He couldn't help but stop and admire the sight before him.

  Going through the next set of swinging doors, he walked into a lovely alcove furnished with overstuffed couches and an oak coffee table. A large fireplace and high hearth took up one wall. Straight ahead and facing him was a huge comfortable living area with a colorful jukebox in the corner. Several round tables with white iron cushioned chairs filled the right side of the room. To the left, a large couch and a couple of leather mini sofas separated by another oak coffee table, also faced a fireplace. The walls were lined with colorful paintings, and vessels filled with real flowers of different hues were scattered throughout the room. It surprised him to see the space empty; then it dawned on him it was near dinner time. More than likely, everyone had gathered in the dining room.

  He quickly located the elevator and took it to the second floor. Stepping out on the carpet, he glanced at the door numbers and soon found Mrs. Hampton's quarters. He flipped on the voice activated recorder in his pocket and softly knocked. George opened the door and ushered him inside.

  “Maggie, this is Tom Casey, the private investigator I told you about.”

  She held a vase of flowers in one hand as she maneuvered her walker toward the table in front of the large window overlooking the fishpond. She glanced his way. “I'll be right with you. I just moved into this smaller unit and it's taking me a while to get things the way I want them.”

  “It's very pleasant,” Hawkman said, as he glanced around the interior. The doors were open where he could see into a large bathroom, and a bedroom big enough for a king size bed along with two bedside tables on each side.

  Maggie moved toward him and stopped within a foot of his body and glared up into his face. “So you're a private investigator. Bet you scare the hell out of anyone who approaches you.”

  Hawkman stared down at the frail woman. She wore a dark green pantsuit which emphasized her sparkling hazel eyes. Her short, thin silver hair clung softly to her head, but separated over small ears adorned with tiny emerald earrings. Artfully applied make-up with a touch of soft pink lipstick gave her a delicate appearance. She raised her hand.

  “A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Casey. May I call you Hawkman, like George does?”

  He took hold of the small fingers. “Of course.”

  She gestured toward the chair. “Please take this seat. I have many questions.”

  “I hope I have all the answers,” he said, sitting down.

  She plopped on the couch, folded and pushed her walker to the side, then pointed to his eye-patch. “Is that for show or for real?”

  He smiled. “It's for real. Due to an old injury, I have difficulty processing light in the eye.”

  “Maybe one of these days you can tell me the story.”

  “Sure.”

  Maggie glared at her husband. “Right now, I have a problem with George hiring a private investigator without my knowledge. We both have reservations about the causes of death of our friends, but we're not sure if they were murdered or died of old age.”

  “I understand. All I can promise, is we'll look into all possibilities.”

  “George says you have a man who will watch over me when he's not here.”

  “Yes, I've hired him already.”

  She let out a sigh. “I really don't like the idea of strange men hanging around my place. No telling what kind of scuttlebutt will soar through these halls.”

  “I don't think any rumors that emerge will hurt your reputation. You can always squish them with the rebuttal that you've had threats on your life and we're your bodyguards.”

  Her face lit up with a big smile. “Oh, you're good. I like the thought.” She rose and took hold of her walker. “Don't mind me. I have to stroll around occasionally or else my hip aches.”

  George moved to her side.

  She gave him a gentle shove. “I don't need any help. Just get out of my way.”

  After Maggie scooted around the perimeter of the room a couple of times, she flopped down on an overstuffed chair and chuckled. “Gives me a bit of exercise too.”

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  CHAPTER FOUR
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  Maggie glanced at the watch pendant hanging around her neck. “George, don't let me forget to take my medicine.”

  “You want me to get it now? he asked, starting to stand.

  “Of course not, we have a guest,” she grumbled. “It just makes me sleepy and I'd prefer to be alert.”

  He frowned. “If you don't take your medications regularly, it throws you off schedule.”

  “I doubt thirty minutes is going to make a hoot of a difference,” she replied curtly.

  George nodded.

  Hawkman watched the two with interest, then turned his attention to Maggie. “Do you take medication every night?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I've missed the ending of many movies because of it. I should change my schedule. I mean, who cares what time I go to sleep or wake up. It's not like I've got an appointment. I can eat anytime because the dining room opens at seven in the morning and serves anything you want all day. I really like this place. It's clean, orderly and the staff's efficient.”

  “It certainly has lovely grounds.” Hawkman said.

  “The next time you're here, I'll take you on a tour. There's a billiard room, a place to watch movies on a big screen, puzzles to work and events happening all the time. They even have bingo.”

  “Interesting. I'd like to walk around the area.” He pointed out the window to the structure across the way. “I didn't realize I'd come in the wrong way. The woman told me that first building houses the assisted living group, and you lived over here in the independent wing. So what's the difference between the two?”

  “The people living in the assisted quarters need twenty-four hour care, so there is staff available night and day. In the independent living group, we've just gotten to the point in our lives where we don't want all the responsibilities of trimming lawns and the upkeep of a home, but are very capable of taking care of ourselves.” She gestured toward a door. “However, there's an emergency pull cord in the bathroom if we need help. It's the one I pulled when I couldn't wake Sybil. The staff rushed up here and called 911. We don't have any medical assistance on this side, so none of the personnel touch us if we fall for fear they might do more damage. They'll cover us with a blanket and stay until the paramedics get here. Which usually only takes minutes.”