Angels in Disguise (4 page)

Delia curled a long strand of hair around her finger. “Long story. When Tiffany first wore the hip huggers over here and I noticed the belly button ring, I actually had a tantrum. I carried on something dreadful at Carlotta for ever letting the child get her naval pierced. Unfortunately, this argument occurred in front of Tiffany. Carlotta pointed a finger at my nose and told me I had no business telling her how to raise her child. And if I ever interfered with what she did, I'd never see my granddaughter again. Tiffany let out a scream, ran to the room I have for her here and flung herself across the bed, sobbing. No way could I ever let that happen. Carlotta had every legal right to threaten me. So, I decided then and there, I'd never say another thing about how the child dressed."

"Do you think either Carlotta or Paul had an affair, making their marriage go sour?"

"I doubt my son has time for such a thing. Carlotta is another story. Who knows where she goes or what she does during the hours Tiffany's in school. Her getting shot by an irate wife wouldn't be a surprise.” A cynical grin curved her lips. “In fact, I think it might please me."

Hawkman set his mug on the table. “Mrs. Ryan, I've taken enough of your time. Thanks for the coffee, and I appreciate what you've told me. I'll see about talking to both those women you mentioned. Maybe they can shed some light on Carlotta's disappearance."

Delia showed him to the door. “It's been a pleasure visiting with you. But you know, Mr. Casey, it really won't disappoint me if you never find her."

Traveling back to his office, Hawkman found himself puzzling over the conversation with Ms. Delia Ryan. On one hand, she seemed genuinely concerned over her granddaughter. On the other, she appeared to have a streak of meanness he couldn't quite decipher. He decided to have a chat with Paul and see if he could gain more insight of the inner workings of this woman's mind.

At his desk, he studied the list of names received from Tiffany and Ms. Ryan. The guy who fixed the overflowing toilet could have been a local handyman Carlotta found in one of those toss away flyers, but he'd try the local plumbing companies first. Plopping the phone book onto his desktop, he flipped to the yellow pages and jotted down numbers. Then he looked up the common name of Jack Smith. It would take several calls to find this guy, if it turned out to be his real name, which Tiffany doubted and so did he.

Next he searched for the two women Delia mentioned; Beth Matthews and Tulip Withers. Not finding either name, he dialed information and discovered they both had unlisted numbers. At least they were still in the area. Before going into an extensive search on these people, he decided to dial the long-distance number repeatedly called from Carlotta's house. An answering machine picked up. “You've reached the Divorce and Family Law Specialist of Phillips and Crammer in Grants Pass, Oregon. Our offices will be closed until next Monday due to some extensive remodeling. Your call is important, so please leave your name, phone number and short message after the beep and we'll return your call. Thank you."

That's interesting, Hawkman thought, as he replaced the receiver. Appears Ms. Carlotta had something on her mind besides staying in an unhappy marriage. Divorce could limit the amount of money coming in for personal use. Right now, Paul appeared willing to supply whatever was needed to make sure Carlotta and Tiffany were comfortable. Why would she seek out a divorce lawyer? Unless there's another man involved.

He'd take a trip to Grant's Pass next week if Carlotta didn't make an appearance. It'd be interesting to see how much information he could obtain from the lawyer without having to seek Detective Williams’ help. Who knows, by then, this case could develop into more than a missing person.

Turning to the computer, he punched in the code for the special program he belonged to that revealed unlisted information. Once he located the two women, he jotted down their phone numbers and addresses. Later, he'd drive by their residences and see if they'd talk to him. He felt it a better method than calling on the phone. The surprise factor had paid off more than once.

He glanced up at the computer clock and it read four o'clock. Jennifer should be home from the doctor by now, so he called.

"Hi, Hon, what's the diagnosis?"

"He gave me a strong antibiotic for three days."

"Good. I hope you've started it."

She chuckled. “Don't worry, dear, first dose is down."

"I'll talk to you tonight. Love ya.” He hung up, feeling much better. His attention then went to the plumbing companies. After he exhausted the list in the area and found no one employed called Derrick, with a strange last name, he decided he'd better pick up one of those little flyers of handymen. They were usually distributed at the grocery stores or put on top of the newspaper bins.

After going through all the Smiths in the phone book, he decided the name Jack Smith would forever hang in limbo. A ploy Carlotta and the boyfriend contrived to throw Tiffany off guard, just as the child suspected. He'd hit a dead end as far as the two men were concerned. Borrowing an artist from the police department to sketch out their descriptions given by Tiffany might be his best approach. Then he could go through the mug shots at the police station.

He picked up the notes from his desk and shoved them into his pocket. The apartment houses where the two women lived weren't far away, and unless they had unusual working hours, he'd probably catch them home. He assumed the girls were single, since the phone bills were in their names.

Leaving the office, he drove toward Beth Matthews’ address, as she lived closest. This group of apartments tended to be quite popular with the younger set and the parking spaces were almost filled. He drove through the three building complex, each supporting several stories, and searched for an indication where number seventy-two might be located. When he reached the last structure, he spotted the apartment on the ground floor.

The parking space in front of her unit was occupied, but off to the side he noticed a thirty minute visitor area. He pulled into a vacant slot and strolled to the entry. A light glared through a crack in the drapes and Hawkman punched the doorbell several times before a feminine voice called out.

"Who's there?"

Removing his Private Investigator badge from his billfold, he held it up in front of the peep hole. “I'm Tom Casey, Private Investigator, and I'm looking for Beth Matthews."

"That's me."

"I'd like to ask you some questions about Carlotta Ryan."

A young woman, approximately five foot three, in her early thirties, and still dressed in her tailored beige business suit, opened the door. She placed a hand on her chest, when she saw Hawkman. He'd discovered women were seldom ready for a six foot man with a patch over his eye and sporting a cowboy hat to be standing at their front door.

"What about Carlotta?” she asked.

"She seems to have disappeared and the family hired me to help locate her. Since you're her friend, I hoped maybe you could shed some light on where she might have gone."

Beth frowned. “Disappeared?"

"Yes. May I come in?"

"Let me see your identification again."

He handed it to her and watched as she studied the picture, glancing at his face several times. She finally opened the door wider and invited him to enter.

Hawkman shoved the badge into his pocket and stepped into the living room. She gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat. I just put on a pot of coffee; it should be done. I'll get us a cup. Hope you like it black."

"That's perfect"

He observed the casual, but expensive upholstered furniture decorating the small living room as he sat on the end of a comfortable couch. The only thing out of place was a bouquet of wilted roses that sat in the center of an oak rectangular coffee table. Dried petals littered the polished surface around the bottom of the vase.

Beth carried in two mugs and placed one in front of Hawkman as she took the overstuffed chair opposite him. She appeared concerned as she took a sip of the hot brew. “Now, what's this about Carlotta? But first, let's get one thing straight. I'm not a good friend. You might classify me as a business acquaintance. I've only seen the woman a couple of times."

"So what's your association with her?"

"I met her through Tulip Withers, a client of mine."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a real estate lawyer. But she was looking for one to write up a divorce. Tulip thought I might be able to direct her to a good one. Carlotta wanted someone outside of Medford, so I researched a few names at my office. Then we met for lunch. I suggested a Divorce and Family Law Specialist in Grants Pass. And that's been the extent of my association with her."

So far, that part of the story fit, Hawkman thought. “Did you meet her mother-in-law, Delia Ryan?"

"Yes, she came by Carlotta's home while we were there at the initial meeting and picked up the young daughter. I don't remember the child's name."

Hawkman placed the partially filled mug on the coffee table and stood. “Ms. Matthews, it doesn't look like you can help me. But if you hear anything about Ms. Ryan, I'd really appreciate you contacting me.” He handed her one of his business cards.

"Sure. Be glad to. Sorry, I couldn't be more help."

"Do you know if Tulip Withers is a close friend of Carlotta's?"

"I just assumed they were friends, how close I can't say. Maybe she can help you. I have her address in my files. If you'd like, I can get it for you."

"No, thanks. I already have it."

"By the way, how'd you find me? I'm unlisted."

He grinned. “Private investigators have all sorts of little tricks on finding people. If I told you, I'd give away my secret."

Beth snickered. “Okay, I won't probe. But I certainly hope Carlotta's just taken a trip and hasn't met with foul play."

"Me, too,” Hawkman said, as he headed for the door.

Hawkman had forgotten about this apartment complex outside the city limits. Age had taken its toll on the site. The buildings needed new roofs and the parking area concrete needed repair. At least the structures had a new paint job, plus mature trees surrounding the place helped its looks. The grounds were clean and manicured, giving an old, but quaint appearance. A sign propped on the front lawn stated, ‘Available Apartment, see office at rear of building #1'.

He followed the drive toward the back, looking for number three twenty-four, and finally spotted it on the second floor of the last building. Several empty parking spaces were available, but no section specified visitors, so he pulled into a vacant spot closest to the stairwell.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he hesitated in front of the entry, pulled his badge from his pocket, then knocked. A woman pushed back the drape at the window beside the door.

"Yes, can I help you,” she said.

Hawkman stepped over and placed his identification against the glass. “I'm looking for Tulip Withers. Is that you?"

"Yes."

I'm Tom Casey, a private investigator. I'd like to ask you some questions about Carlotta Ryan."

She furrowed her brows. “Carlotta Ryan?"

"Isn't she a friend?"

"Well, sort of. Hold on a minute."

He stepped back as she opened the door.

"Come in."

"Is this a bad time?"

"I'm due for work in about an hour, so I have a few minutes. Have a seat."

The living room was furnished in an array of thrift shop or garage sale furnishings, a far cry from what he'd just left. Tulip, a tall, stocky woman wore a white waitress uniform. It appeared she'd attempted to tie her hair into a pony tail, but loose stands hung in disarray around her neck and shoulders. Her face had a pasty appearance and dark rings encircled her eyes. She might not look so plain, Hawkman thought, if she'd put on a touch of lipstick. He sat in one of the straight back chairs against the wall.

Tulip let out a sigh and plopped her big frame down on the couch. “Now, what about Carlotta?"

Hawkman explained she'd disappeared. “Would you have any idea where she might have gone or if she went with someone?"

Tulip shook her head. “Not the vaguest. I've known her for years, but we were never really the buddy-buddy type. We usually got together for lunch once a month or so."

"Did she ever mention her marriage to you?"

She smirked. “Carlotta said it bored her silly and advised me never to get hitched.” She tossed her hands up and let them drop. “As if I'd ever have the opportunity."

"You knew she and Paul separated?"

"Oh, yeah, they haven't been living together for some time."

"Did Carlotta have a boyfriend?"

"Not that I know of. She never spoke of another man, only Paul. And she berated him continuously."

"Why? Did he abuse her?"

She flashed him a wide-eyed look. “Oh, no! In fact, I thought it stupid of her to kick him out. My gosh, she had everything she wanted. He spoiled her rotten. But Carlotta called him tiring and dull. He worked long hours, but she didn't view it as his making money so she could have a wonderful life style. She thought he was neglecting her.” Tulip moaned. “A very immature attitude on her part."

"When did you last see Carlotta?"

She tapped her finger on her chin. “Let me think. It must have been at least two months ago. She'd called and asked if I knew a divorce lawyer. I told her no, but knew someone that might be able to help. I thought it a stupid idea.” She shrugged. “But it wasn't any of my business. She asked me to invite the person to her house and she'd serve us a catered lunch. We set a date and I introduced her to my friend who is a real estate attorney. I figured she'd be able to give Carlotta a name or two."

"Did she?"

"Yes, I think she later recommended a firm in Grants Pass, but I don't remember the name. Sorry, I can't be of more help."

Hawkman stood. “I appreciate what you've told me."

"Do you think something terrible has happened to Carlotta?"

"Hard to say, since no one has heard from her. If she happens to contact you, would you call me at this number?” He handed her his card.