Angels in Disguise (17 page)

He felt like he'd slid back to square one. The only other detail he had to go on was the possible weight of the person who did the deed. Shaking his head, he felt like his brain had filled with mush. He had too much to think about and needed to clear the channels so thoughts would run smoothly. Something didn't fit the puzzle, but what?

It bothered him to hear Tiffany made those phone calls. When the young girl spoke of Tulip, he got the impression she thought of her more as a joke than a person she'd confide in. Could the child know more than she's telling?

Strange, neither Tiffany nor Delia mentioned going to Mom's to eat. But since it didn't appear to have anything to do with Carlotta's disappearance, the family probably thought it insignificant. Maybe he should speak with them and emphasize how important it is to tell him every detail leading up to Carlotta's disappearance, regardless of how minor it might seem.

He came to a stop sign, pulled his cell phone from his belt and punched in Delia's number. She may have already left to pick up Tiffany from school. The phone rang four times before the answering machine came on. He decided not to leave a message. He then phoned Detective Williams.

"Hey, Williams, surprised I caught you in the office."

"A nice quiet day. We've just had a few robberies and disturbances of the peace until the phone rang."

"Well, we can't have it so calm at the police station."

"I'm sure you're going to make chaos."

Hawkman chuckled. “I've questioned Paul and Ms. Tulip Withers. They both have good reasons for their prints being on the suitcase. And their stories check out."

"I'd like to hear them. You think those two could be in cahoots?"

"Anything's possible, but I have my doubts. Found out another little tidbit, probably not important, but might have a bearing on the case. I'm going to speak with Tiffany and her grandmother. I'll let you know what I discover."

"Sounds mighty suspicious. Don't tell me you think that kid pushed the suitcase under the house?"

"No. Her weight doesn't match the ground measurements. And as far as her prints being on the bag, she could have touched it anytime. I'm sure our killer wore gloves, but what I find curious is, why the prints weren't smudged. The person must have just handled the cloth area. Why did they do this? Or did they have a motive in the back of their mind?"

"Hmm, you've got a point. Possibly playing a game to throw off the authorities."

"My thoughts exactly,” Hawkman said. “By the way, talking about fingerprints, made me think about something else. Why don't you have your lab team go over Carlotta's car. Supposedly, no one has driven it or been inside the vehicle since she vanished. I'd like to know for sure. I've told Ryan to expect you some time soon."

"Good. I'll give him a call and get my group over there this evening or first thing in the morning. Keep me informed on what you find out."

"Will do."

Hawkman signed off and headed toward Delia's house. He doubted he'd find them home, knowing she and her granddaughter could be shopping or at the ice cream parlor. When he rounded the corner, to his pleasant surprise, the garage door stood open and he could see the big Cadillac parked inside. He pulled to the front curb, climbed out his 4X4 just about the time he heard the two talking and slamming car doors. As they backed out and the garage door rolled down, Delia spotted him and braked. She stared out her window with a curious expression, then rolled down the glass and stuck out her head.

"Hi, Mr. Casey. What brings you here today?"

He stepped up to the car. “I wanted to speak with you and Tiffany."

"Can it wait, she has a school project due and we've been working like crazy to get it completed. Now we need to get to the library and store."

"No problem. Will tomorrow about this time be all right?"

Tiffany gave him a big grin and a little wave from the passenger seat.

"Yes, much better. Thanks. By the way, any news?"

"Nothing.” He moved away from the car as she backed out of the driveway.

Some inner feeling drew him toward Tulip Withers’ place, even though he assumed she'd already gone to work. As he slowly cruised by her apartment, it surprised him to see Alfonso's van parked in front of her place. Hawkman pulled into an empty slot on the opposite side and killed the engine. Figuring Alfonso wouldn't pay much attention to his vehicle unless he recognized him, so he slipped on a pair of sunglasses, removed his cowboy hat, and slapped on a ball cap. He then adjusted the rear mirror so he could get a good view of the front door. Not seeing Tulip's car anywhere, made him wonder what the handyman was doing there. She didn't seem the type to allow anyone inside without her being present.

Hawkman picked the clipboard off the passenger seat, and placed it on the steering wheel. He noted the time and jotted it down along with the license plate number of the van, then waited. A faint glow glistened through the curtained window of her apartment in the area of the kitchen, but he couldn't see any shadows or silhouettes.

Thirty minutes passed before the light flickered out and the front door slowly opened. He slid lower in the seat as Alfonso stepped outside with a tray of tools, placed them in his van and drove away without ever glancing across the parking lot. Hawkman waited a few moments, then drove by the intersection where Alfonso lived, and spotted the man going into his apartment.

If the two didn't know each other, what was he doing repairing something inside her place? Hawkman drove to Mom's Cafe. The evening crowd hadn't hit yet and he found Tulip refilling the salt shakers.

"Good evening, Ms. Withers."

Her head snapped up and she forced a smile. “Hello, Mr. Casey. I see you've returned for more of Mom's cooking."

"No, I just came from your apartment, hoping to catch you before you left and instead found a man inside."

She spilled salt across the table. “In my apartment?"

"Yes, looked like a handyman."

"Oh, whew. You scared me for a moment.” She cleaned up the scattered salt, then scooted the shaker to the end of the table and gave the surface a final swipe. “It's about time they fixed that leaky faucet. The complex said they'd send a repairman as soon as they found a new guy to replace the one who'd retired.” Then she furrowed her brow and gazed at him. “Why did you want to see me?"

"I wondered if Tiffany had called you since her mother disappeared?"

"No. And I miss her. She's such a sweet little girl. I guess Delia cooks her meals now. Carlotta sent Tiffany out a lot, which I personally didn't think a healthy habit. But she hated to cook.” She sighed. “Poor Paul, guess he never ate a good home-cooked meal while living with her. That woman definitely didn't know how to treat a man."

Hawkman touched his hat and turned toward the exit. “Thanks for the information. Have a good evening."

As he drove toward the office, he mulled over what Tulip had said about the apartment complex hiring Alfonso as their handyman. He obviously carries a master key and has access to all the units. It made Hawkman wonder how close they'd checked the man's record. He could just hear the calls coming into their main office when items of value started disappearing from the renters.

He parked in the alley and took the stairs two at a time. Jennifer would be proud of him for resisting the wonderful aroma of doughnuts coming from the bakery. The afternoons were getting warm and the office felt stuffy. He left the door ajar and opened the window, letting a nice breeze blow through. He noticed the red light on the message machine blinking and sat down. Picking up a pencil and placing a yellow legal tablet in front of him, he punched the play button.

The first dispatch hung up. The second communication came from Delia asking him to hold off coming by tomorrow until four as she needed to talk with Tiffany's teacher before coming home from school.

The third made him stare at the machine as a muffled voice came across the line. “Drop the Carlotta case or Tiffany will be hurt."

Hawkman saved the message, then listened to it several times trying to recognize the muffled voice, but to no avail. He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and leaned back. The situation with Tiffany bothered him. He punched in Williams’ number.

"Detective Williams."

"Hawkman here. Just received a call threatening Tiffany's welfare if I continued to pursue the Carlotta case."

"Par for the course. Did you get the I.D.?"

"Pay phone downtown."

"Figures."

Hawkman picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk. “I don't like the child being involved. Worries me. Maybe protection should be provided until we get to the bottom of this."

"Don't have the manpower right now. Have a big drug sting in progress. You might have to hire one of your guys. The problem with Carlotta's case is we have no proof there's been any foul play. No body, blood or anything."

"Maybe I haven't been looking in the right places. I have a gut feeling that woman's corpse is close."

"You find it and my department will get serious."

"You're a lot of help."

"Sorry, I'm strung out like a tight rubber band. And unfortunately, the Ryan case has slipped to the back burner. But before it did, I received the report from our lab on the prints in the car. All we found were Carlotta's and Tiffany's."

"Thanks, appreciate the information."

After hanging up, Hawkman called Paul.

"Mr. Ryan, could you drop by my office on your way home from work? I have something very important to discuss."

Within the hour, Hawkman glanced up at the tap on his door. “Come in."

Paul entered, his expression strained with worry. He crossed the room to the front of the desk. “It makes me very nervous when I get these types of calls from you."

"You should be. I want you to listen to something."

Hawkman punched on the machine and played the message. Paul dropped down in the chair, his face pale. “My God. Who would want to hurt Tiffany?"

"Do you recognize the voice?"

He shook his head. “No, it's so muted, it's even hard to understand."

"I feel someone is playing a game. But to be on the safe side, I want close surveillance of your daughter. Don't let her out of your sight. Note any strange car or person in the neighborhood. I also think you better keep her home from school for the next few days."

Paul furrowed his brow. “She isn't going to be happy.” His eyes wide, he glanced up at Hawkman. “What reason am I going to give her?"

"I think you better tell the truth. If she realizes the danger, it will make her more aware of her surroundings."

"Yeah, but at her age, it could cause nightmares."

"It might, but it's a risk you're going to have to take. Better than having her kidnapped or hurt. In fact, it might be a good idea if you stayed at Delia's for the rest of the week. Don't take off work, but be there at night. I imagine your mom can handle anything during the day."

Paul stared at the floor. “What's someone trying to do, other than put the fear of God into us?"

"I wish I knew, but they obviously think we're getting close to something or they wouldn't have made the call."

"Would you mind dropping by my Mom's with me, so I can prepare her for this. I could use your moral support."

"Sure. I'll take the recording, so she can hear it.” Hawkman slid the CD into his pocket and the two men left the office.

Delia heard the car pull into the driveway and peered out the window. When she saw Paul and Mr. Casey coming up the sidewalk, she could tell by her son's expression and rapid walk there'd been a breakthrough in the case. She took a quick look down the hallway toward Tiffany's bedroom and could hear the computer game playing.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she opened the front door and studied both men's solemn expressions. “What's wrong?"

"Mom, we need to talk in private, then we'll speak with Tiffany."

She led the two men into the den off the kitchen and closed the door. “Okay, what's going on?"

Hawkman walked over to the computer and booted it up, then inserted the CD. After the message played, Delia's face expressed horror. “What the hell? Who would hurt Tiffany?"

Paul put an arm around his mother. “We don't know. Mr. Casey received this on his answering machine today and feels we should take every precaution to protect her. Which means keeping Tiffany home from school for the next few days."

She gaped at Hawkman. “How will we explain it to her and the school?"

"School's no problem,” Paul said. “You call and tell them she's sick. As far as Tiffany, Mr. Casey suggests we tell her the truth."

Delia raised her arms in disbelief. “You can't tell a ten year old child her life might be in danger from some idiot. She won't know how to handle it. News such as this could affect her for the rest of her life."

"That's true,” Hawkman said. “How would you deal with it?"

She put her hands on each side of her face and paced. “I don't know."

"Sit down, Delia,” Hawkman instructed. “The child has accepted the fact her mother has disappeared. And I have a feeling she pretty well knows she's dead."

Delia plopped down in a chair. “I think you're right."

Hawkman observed the two adults. “Then why not involve her in the truth, instead of trying to skirt around it. The child's smart enough to figure things out for herself. The minute you keep her home from school and she catches you watching her every move, she'll put it together."

"How serious is this warning?” Delia asked.

"I'm not sure. It could be a scare tactic with no action following. But I don't think we want to chance it."

"No, we can't,” Paul said. “Mom, why don't you get Tiffany in here. We might as well get this over with."

Delia left the room and soon returned with her granddaughter in tow. The young girl stared at each person, then sidled up to her dad. “No one looks very happy. Is something wrong?"

Paul took Tiffany's hands. “We need to talk."

"What about?"

When they'd finished explaining the danger, Tiffany turned to her dad. “Will you stay with us?"