Angels in Disguise (19 page)

"When did you last see Carlotta?"

The butcher reached inside one of the refrigerated counters and rearranged the display. Hawkman noticed a tic in the man's left cheek. “Hmm, hard to say. I don't recall seeing her for a long time. I'm pretty much stuck in my shop, so I'm not tooling around town."

"Have you encouraged Tulip to be attentive to Paul since Carlotta threw him out?"

Hank stepped back and raised his bushy eyebrows. “Why not? He's the catch of the town with Carlotta out of the picture. It sure as hell can't hurt."

"Why do you say Carlotta's out of the picture."

The man's face flushed. “Well, she's up and vanished. No one's seen her for weeks."

"True, but she might show up out of the blue."

"Well, I wouldn't bet any money on it."

About that time the bell above the door jingled and a customer walked in.

"I've got work to do, and I have nothing more to say."

Hawkman touched his hat. “Thanks for your time."

Back in the confines of his SUV, Hawkman thought about the dialog he'd shared with Hank Withers. The butcher knew a lot about the Ryan family, but he felt the man had lied about when he'd last seen Carlotta.

Tulip reached her father, only to be turned off by his telling her he had a store full of customers. She quickly told him the private investigator had been there asking pointed questions.

"Don't worry, I'll handle the son-of-a-bitch,” he'd hissed.

Tulip paced the floor, then jumped into the shower. Letting the hot water beat against her back, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. She felt guilty for wasting energy, but at the moment she felt her sanity might be more important.

She finally stepped out of the stall into the steamy bathroom and toweled dry. After wrapping the large terry around her body, she peeked out, never knowing for sure whether her father might have let himself in with his key and be standing at her bedroom door. He'd never touched her, but she'd caught him staring at her with a look that sent chills down her spine.

Pulling a fresh uniform from the closet, she dressed for work, then glanced at herself in the mirror and groaned. One of these days, I'm going to try some make-up, she thought, as she rebraided her hair, wrapped it around her head, then secured it with two butterfly pins. She grabbed a clean apron from the dresser drawer and tied it around her waist as she headed for the kitchen. Snatching her purse off the counter, she hurried out the front door. Tonight her dad would surely come over and maybe they could discuss this whole debacle about Carlotta and Paul.

Hawkman decided he'd drop by Delia's and talk to Paul before he went home. Tomorrow would be taken up with Jennifer's doctor's appointment and it would be Friday before he could follow up. As he cruised through Delia's neighborhood, he noted the vehicles and saw nothing strange or out of order. When he arrived at the house, Paul's car sat in the driveway and he answered the door.

"Mr. Casey, is every thing all right?"

"I'd like to talk to you out here in the yard, if that's okay."

"Yeah, hold on a minute. I don't want Mom and Tiffany to be alarmed when I don't come back inside."

He returned in a few moments and the two men stepped away from the house. Hawkman stood in the grass, his thumbs hooked in his jeans front pockets.

"Are you good friends with Hank Withers?"

Paul's expression turned pensive. “I don't know how good, but we're friends. I've traded at his butcher shop for years, along with my parents. Mom still shops there too. Why?"

"Did you ever talk to him about Carlotta?"

"No more than the normal chitchat. He used to tease me about never seeing my wife buy meat. I guess in time, he figured out Carlotta didn't do much cooking."

"Did you ever confide in him about your marriage situation?"

"I might have told him we were separated. I don't really remember."

"Tiffany ever go with you when you went into the shop?"

"Oh, yeah, many times. He always kept a jar of suckers for the kids. He loved to talk to the younger set. Many times I had to rush him on my order, so I could get home and fire up the bar-b-queue."

"Do you ever remember him pumping Tiffany for information about her mother?"

Paul frowned. “Boy, I sure don't like this line of questioning. Do you suspect Mr. Withers of having something to do with Carlotta's disappearance?"

"I'm not sure. But I've got to follow every lead. You know, he'd like to see his daughter married to you. And I'm wondering how bad he wants this wish to come true."

Paul stepped back and stared at Hawkman. “My God, surely not enough to murder Carlotta."

Hawkman raised a hand. “Hold it, Paul. I didn't say anything about murder. I'm just wondering if he ever had any contact with Carlotta. Did he encourage her to leave you? Maybe to set you free so he could push Tulip your way? How much did he know about the friendship between his daughter and your wife? These are some avenues I feel are worth investigating and any light you could shed on this would help.

Paul tread back and forth on the sidewalk, then faced Hawkman. “Man, I don't know the answers to any of those questions. Carlotta pretty much did whatever she pleased. She never confided in me about who she saw or contacted during the day. And once I moved out, I have no idea what she did."

"I doubt Mr. Withers would take the time off from his shop to go by Carlotta's house during the day, but he might have stopped by in the evening. I didn't think much about it at the time. But didn't Tiffany mention the butcher man had been by?"

Paul glanced toward the front door. “I could ask her."

"Don't do it right now. Wait until you have an opening that won't alert her to something suspicious. I don't want her to have any ill feelings toward Mr. Withers if it's not warranted."

Exhaling, Paul nodded. “Okay. I get the picture."

"Call me on my cell as soon as you talk to her."

"I will."

Hawkman started to leave, but then turned. “I hate putting you through this, but it's the only way we're going to get to the bottom of Carlotta's disappearance."

"This whole thing gives me a skull thumping headache, but I understand.” His shoulders slumped, Paul trudged back into the house.

Hawkman climbed into his vehicle and started home. He didn't like the gruesome ideas forming in his head. But he had to explore every lead and prayed his morbid thoughts wouldn't come true.

Hawkman felt the bed jiggle as Jennifer arose early. He watched her as she moved toward the bathroom. She left the door open and stood in front of the mirror brushing her long hair. As she fingered the strands, he could see her gnawing her lower lip and could imagine her thoughts. She'd talked about the effects of chemotherapy and the possibility of losing her hair. It would be a shock, but from what he'd read, it would grow back, maybe even prettier than now.

He moaned and stretched, then swung his feet to the floor. “Good morning, my pretty lady."

She glanced at him and snarled. “Wonder how gorgeous I'll look when I'm bald?"

"Let's not worry about that until we talk to the doctor. Who knows what kind of treatments they have today."

"I've pretty well searched the internet for all the information I could find. And they haven't developed any medications without the side effects yet. They're close, but not there. So I have a feeling I'm going to be on chemo. Which means I'd better be prepared to lose my locks."

Not knowing quite what to say, Hawkman decided to change the subject. “You going to shower first?"

"Yes. Why don't you go put on the coffee. Let's just have cold cereal this morning. I'm not in the mood to fix a big breakfast."

"No problem.” He slipped on his eye-patch, and stepped into his jeans. Bare-chested, he exited to the kitchen. As he waited for the coffee to perk, he examined a wig catalog Jennifer had placed on the counter. This had definitely been on her mind. A chill traveled up his spine when he considered what she had ahead of her.

They entered the doctor's waiting room and the nurse soon ushered them back to one of the small examination rooms. The attendant handed her a flimsy gown and asked Jennifer to remove her clothes from the waist down. She climbed upon the table with the drape around her body. The doctor soon entered and examined her abdomen, then moved to his computer.

"The diagnosis according to the biopsy report is: Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma. It's in the lymph nodes in your groin."

"And what does that mean?” Jennifer asked.

"It's a low grade non-Hodgkins lymphoma and usually has a relatively slow growth rate. We'll use chemotherapy to treat it."

"Which one are you recommending?"

He eyed her. “Sounds like you've done your homework.

"I did do some research on the internet."

"Good. I plan on using CVP-R, which is a Vincristine injection with Rituxin included in the treatment, along with a five day oral regimen of Cyclophosphamide and Prednisone tablets. The chemotherapy is repeated every three weeks. The total course consists of six treatment cycles. We'll run a CAT scan after the fourth treatment and see how things are progressing."

"Does the chemo start working immediately?"

"Yes."

"What's the prognosis?” Hawkman asked.

"Very good. We can usually knock it into remission and if it comes back, we can hit it again. If she had to develop cancer, this is the one to have. We can treat it very successfully and keep it under control. I'll give you a pamphlet which will help you understand the whole process."

Hawkman nodded. “Good."

"Will I lose my hair?” Jennifer asked.

"Yes."

"How long does it take?"

"Three weeks."

"I guess I better see about ordering a wig."

The doctor smiled. “That's a good idea.” Then he moved to her side. “What I want to do now, is get a bone biopsy to see if it's in the marrow. I can extract it from your hip."

Hawkman rose from his chair. “Does that make a difference if it's there?"

"Don't worry, the chemo will take care of it."

Hawkman stared at him. “You're going to put a needle into her bone without deadening it?"

"I'll use a local anesthetic. It's not that painful and it'll only take a few minutes."

Jennifer tugged on Hawkman's arm. “Honey, why don't you go into the waiting room."

He looked into her eyes. “You think I should?"

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Once he left her, he stuck a toothpick into his mouth and paced the floor. Fifteen minutes passed before Jennifer appeared carrying a packet of literature. He went to her side, took the package and placed an arm around her. “Honey, you're pale as a ghost. Are you okay?"

She sucked in her lower lip. “Well, it wasn't fun, but it's over and he'll let me know as soon as he gets the report back.” They sauntered slowly down the corridor toward the exit. “Meanwhile, I start chemotherapy this coming Monday."

He stopped her and stared into her face. “You're kidding. So soon?"

She clutched his arm. “It's cancer, hon. You don't fool around with this stuff."

Hawkman bit down on the toothpick and it cracked into two pieces inside his mouth. Spitting the small splinters into his hand, he tossed them into the trash receptacle outside the door. “You're right."

"Also the kidney doctor is setting up an appointment to put in a stent."

"Why?"

When they reached the 4X4, he helped her in and jumped into the driver's side. “Please explain to me about this stent."

"The nodes are pressing against my bladder near the ureter, blocking the free flow of urine, causing my right kidney to swell. He doesn't want any damage done and to make sure, a stent will be placed into the ureter leading from my bladder to my kidney. It will relieve the pressure. Then he'll remove it at the end of the chemo."

"So what does this entail?"

"I'll have to go under anesthesia, but it's really a very minor procedure."

"When did you see this doctor?"

"Yesterday. I didn't think it necessary you go with me. My oncologist isn't real happy about it, but if it will save the kidney, he'll go along."

"What's the date for this procedure?"

"His office will contact me."

Hawkman reached over and grasped her hand. “My sweetheart, I wish it was me going through this and not you."

"Just stick with me and I'll whip the big ‘C'."

He squeezed her fingers. “I'll be there. Believe me, I'll be by your side every step of the way."

Friday morning, Hawkman felt reluctant to leave and roamed around the house until Jennifer finally stepped into his path.

"Honey, there's nothing you can do for me today but drive me to distraction. So please go work on the Carlotta case. I'll call if I receive any news. The only thing I ask is that you hold Monday free to take me to the infusion room in Medford."

"Do I stay with you during your treatment?"

She shook her head. “No. I called the nurse and talked to her about the procedure. She said, unless I particularly wanted you present, there wouldn't be a need. My first infusion could take six to seven hours."

Hawkman raised his brows. “Six to seven hours! Holey-moley, that's a long time to have a needle in your arm."

"They go slow the initial visit. So there's definitely no reason for you to be there and be bored. I'll take plenty to do, along with some flyers to distribute about my books and plenty of reading material. We'll make sure our cell phones are charged and I can call you periodically to let you know what's happening."

He scratched his head. “That's a good plan. I can hang around my office; there's plenty to keep me occupied. Then you notify me a few minutes before you're through and I'll pick you up."

She gave him a hug. “Things are coming together pretty good. So go work today and don't worry."

"If you say so. I still can't get used to the whole damn idea of what's going on."

She patted him on the arm and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you dear, now, get going."