Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (14 page)

"I can see George thinking along those lines. Is the diabetes the reason he's never gotten his knees fixed?"

"Yes, he's afraid. Not only of surgery, but the therapy afterwards might be more than he can bear. After hearing stories from his cronies, he wants nothing to do with such an operation. George always adds the comment afterwards, that being diabetic puts him at risk. I figure it will take him the agony of not being able to get out of bed and walk, to force him to reconsider. I'm more concerned about heart disease and strokes which are more prevalent among diabetics, along with keeping his weight under control. He needs to lose a few pounds."

"I'm sure you've elaborated on these things."

"Lectured him numerous times, but to no avail."

"Sounds like you've at least tried to keep the bases covered."

He laughed. “I try. Not sure how successful it's working, but lately, George has done better."

"What other ailments does he have?"

"So far, so good. He has a little skin irritation, but with creams and lotions we've been able to keep it under control. His kidneys are in good condition, and his other organs seem to be functioning normally right now.” Bunker raised his hands and let them drop to the desk. “It's only a matter of time."

"I can understand your frustration.” Hawkman motioned toward the other file. “Let's go to Maggie."

He closed George's and pulled the other one forward. “She's a bit more complex."

"How's that?"

Dr. Bunker grinned. “Are you married?"

"Yes."

"Then surely you understand how complicated women can be."

"Definitely,” Hawkman chuckled. “I thought you meant Maggie's medical condition was a challenge."

"That too.” Frowning, the doctor fingered through some papers. “Her arthritis is really bad, and when she broke her hip several years ago, it never healed properly. Then she came down with pneumonia, which really knocked her immune system for a loop. I thought we were going to lose her. Regardless of all the trauma her body has been through, her heart seems strong and her other organs are working fine. She's very stubborn and a fighter"

"And mighty feisty,” Hawkman added.

"Yes, sometimes to her detriment."

"What do you mean?"

"I had Maggie set up for therapy, but she never went, telling me she could walk just fine with the walker. I tried to explain she could probably give it up if she did the exercises. She goes her merry way, content with the pain pills and sleep aids."

"How do you find Maggie's attitude?"

"It varies. Sometimes she's hostile and negative, but mostly I find her fairly happy. However, she does have George wrapped around her little finger. He'll do anything she wants, which isn't always the best for either of them. Like her insisting to go live at Morning Glory Haven."

"You didn't think it necessary?"

"Not really.” He shrugged. “Maggie has never gotten used to the fact she and George have plenty of money. They worked very hard to get where they are now. She developed a few strange quirks, and became very possessive of her belongings, such as her spouse, and their home. She doesn't want to pay any stranger to invade her private life."

Hawkman leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. “You think those feelings are strong enough for her to uproot from her own place and go live in a costly home? Doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't. At first, I thought she really thought about George's health and how he wouldn't be able to take care of her needs.” He waved a hand in the air. “I might add, he wouldn't have been able to take care of her properly. However, as time went by, I discovered Maggie loves to be in control. When she and George had a big business, she hired and fired. Once they sold and retired, she lost that power. She knows many of the residents at the home want to be close to her and they try to worm their way into her circle of friends. The thought of being able to keep some at bay makes her feel more in charge again."

"I've seen her in action. I pity the ones who've tried to get her attention and failed.” Hawkman stood when he noticed the doctor checking his watch. “I've kept you long enough. Is there anything we might have left out about these two?"

"No, I think we've covered their lives. If you have more questions, don't hesitate to give me a call, or stop by.” He rose and held out his hand. “It's been a pleasure."

Picking up the recorder off the edge of the desk, Hawkman punched the off button and dropped it into his pocket. “Thanks for all the information. Have a good lunch."

Leaving the medical center, Hawkman tried to sift through what Bunker had told him, but decided to wait until he could listen to the recording before making any judgments.

When he reached his office, he noticed the answering machine blinking. He poked it with his finger and his attention immediately piqued when he heard Dr. Jeff Grahm's voice.

"Mr. Casey, I wanted to inform you the preliminary test on Gladys Owens are in. There were some discrepancies and the lab is sending the body to a forensic laboratory for microscopic, chemical-toxicological and biochemical analyses of tissue and body fluid samples. It might take up to two weeks before any results are sent back, depending on how busy they are. I will let you know when they've arrived."

Hawkman leaned back in his chair. Sounds suspicious, he thought, twirling a pen between his fingers.

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Hawkman figured evidence of poison or drugs had been found in Mrs. Owens’ body, and they needed the experts to decipher what kind. It's possible the woman could have overdosed on her own medication. It's been recorded patients have saved enough pills to commit suicide.

He didn't feel a murderer broke into the apartment. There would've been signs of struggle, not only on the body, but within the room. So whoever killed Mrs. Owens was someone she knew. The question of how they induced poison into her body, if that's what happened, baffled him. Could the killer be a resident taking out some sort of crazy vengeance on innocent souls? He'd be anxious to see the autopsy report.

While listening to Dr. Bunker's interview off the recorder, he paced the floor, mulling over what he'd learned so far, which didn't appear to be much. Flopping down in the chair, he swiveled around to face the desk, took off his cowboy hat and hung it on hook he'd installed on the wall nearby. He opened the Hamptons’ file and read through all his notes again, then scratched his head as he studied the scribbling, knowing he must be missing something. Soon he slammed the folder shut and grumbled, “Not a clue."

Frustrated, he snatched his hat, shoved it on his head, threw the file into the briefcase and left the office.

Friday morning, Hawkman strolled out on the deck to visit his falcon and decided he had time to clean the cage before heading into town. Miss Marple, her tail slowly waving back and forth, sat on the inside ledge of the picture window, scrutinizing his every move. When Pretty Girl squawked, the cat jumped to the floor in terror and dashed across the living room carpet.

"Brave little tiger we own,” he laughed.

When he stepped out of the enclosure carrying the water and food tray, his pet let out a loud protest. “I know, you want to hunt, but I don't have time today. Maybe this weekend. However, I have a great treat for you inside."

Hawkman went to the freezer and pulled out a whole frozen dove he'd saved from one of his hunts. He defrosted it in the microwave while filling the water tray.

"She's definitely going to like that,” Jennifer said, glancing up from her computer as he walked by with the morsel resting on the falcon's food tray. “Maybe it will keep her happy for another day or two."

"I hope so. I feel bad about not taking her out to hunt. Just haven't had time since I took on this case."

"Maybe I can take her out again in the next few days."

"Thanks, hon, I'd appreciate it."

He returned from the deck with a pleasant expression. “Pretty Girl attacked the dove like she'd caught it herself.” He glanced up at the kitchen wall clock. “I've got to get out of here. I want to talk to Kevin, and I have no idea what Maggie has planned for him today.” He laughed. “Remind me to tell you about all the things she drags us to.” He dashed back to his home office, grabbed his briefcase, threw Jennifer a kiss and headed out the door.

Driving toward Medford, he wondered if he'd get any information out of Kevin he didn't already know, but figured two heads were better than one. A few ideas rumbled through his mind, but he felt them premature and didn't want to act on anything until he heard more about the autopsy. There might be a problem for Dr. Grahm to tell him the results, since he wasn't Gladys Owens’ personal physician.

Hawkman arrived at Morning Glory Haven and made his way to Maggie's apartment. He could hear the low volume of the television and knocked on the door. Kevin let him in.

"Boy, you're decked out,” Hawkman exclaimed stepping back and giving him the once over. “All dressed in slacks and sports coat. I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but a uniform or jeans."

Kevin wagged his head back and forth. “Yeah, Maggie told me I had to dress a little better, so when we go to events people won't think her escort is a bum."

Hawkman looked around the room. “Where is she?"

Kevin thumbed toward the closed door of the bedroom. “Getting ready so we can attend a piano concert down in the big recreation room."

"The entertainment in this place appears first class."

"Yeah, I really haven't minded attending these events with Maggie. I have to admit it's a change from watching television.” He shook his head. “However, she's one strange woman. I don't see how George puts up with her day in and day out.

"Oh, yeah. Tell me about it."

Kevin shot a glance toward the bedroom and lowered his voice. “Her mood can change from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. One minute she's as sweet as pie and the next she's ranting and raving. It's like treading on egg shells. You never know what will set her off. Glad I only have six hours every other day to put up with her behavior."

"Other than Maggie's temper tantrums, have you noticed anything unusual going on?"

He raised a finger. “One thing sort of nags at me."

"What's that?"

"One of the employees, a Carmen Sanders, I believe she said her title is ‘Marketing Manager'. She wanders these halls an awful lot."

"It's part of her job to mingle with the residents."

Kevin frowned. “I don't see much mingling, more like invasion."

Hawkman gave him a questioning glance. “What do you mean?"

"I saw her go into one of the rooms, using her master key."

"There could be an explanation."

"For instance?” Kevin asked.

"Someone could have asked her to retrieve a coat or jacket. She could also be checking on a sick resident and used her key so the person wouldn't have to get out of bed to answer the door."

"You've got a point. They're very organized around here, and seem genuinely concerned about their patrons. I have to admit, this is a unique place."

Maggie came out of the bedroom dressed in a blue silk pants suit, silver shoes and to top off the attire, a matching blue pill box hat resting on the back of her head.

Hawkman let out a whistle. “My goodness, you look spiffy."

"Thank you, Mr. Hawkman. Doesn't our Mr. Kevin look handsome?"

"Yes, you two make a charming couple. Does George mind you being escorted by this strange man?"

"Are you kidding?” she smirked. “He's so relieved he doesn't have to go. Social events are not my hubby's thing.” She motioned for Kevin. “Come on, we've got to get going or we won't get a good seat."

Hawkman accompanied them down to the main floor, where he zigzagged through the crowd and departed out the front door. He drove toward his office with Maggie on his mind. There'd been several negative remarks about her, and he came to the conclusion she was definitely headstrong. If the truth be known, he imagined few people really got along with her. It made him wonder what she might be capable of doing. However, the people who'd passed on were supposedly dear friends of the Hamptons. He couldn't imagine her murdering them. But one really never knows.

When he reached the office, he immediately sat down at his desk and jotted down a few pertinent points, closed the file and decided to wrap it up for the day. A cold breeze snapped at his ears as he stepped outside. He hooked up his collar and jogged down the stairs where he met Clyde the baker coming around the corner of the building, bundled in a heavy coat.

"Good evening, Mr. Casey. I think winter is upon us,” he said, hurrying to his vehicle.

"I believe you're right. The northerner the meteorologist warned us about has hit,” Hawkman said, as he hastened to the SUV. A gust of icy wind slammed into him before he could get the door closed and vibrated the whole 4x4. He quickly inserted the key, turned on the heater, and headed home.

When he arrived, he immediately went to Pretty Girl's cage, lowered the wooden window and buckled down the tarp so she'd be protected from the cold weather. Jennifer had pulled on a sweatshirt and had the fireplace going. Miss Marple lay curled up on one side of the hearth.

"I think old man winter has arrived,” she said, as he stepped inside.

"Yeah, with a vengeance."

Saturday morning, Hawkman crawled out of bed and shivered. He immediately flipped on the furnace and glanced out the kitchen window. A light layer of snow feathered the ground and flakes were slowly drifting from the heavens. The overcast appeared heavy, which would make for a dreary day.

He dressed, had breakfast with Jennifer, then slid into his sheepskin jacket and left for Medford to do his turn of chaperoning Maggie. The roads weren't icy yet, but if rain mixed with the snow, it wouldn't take long. Very treacherous driving under those circumstances, because even the four-wheel drive wouldn't do much good on slick pavement.

Driving more cautiously than usual, he made it into Medford without incident and drove to Morning Glory Haven. When he walked down the halls, he noticed there weren't many walking the frigid corridor, and those who were had bundled in sweaters and heavy coats. When he approached Maggie's apartment, George stood outside the door with a cup of coffee.