Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (2 page)

However, it didn't take long for one of his nemeses to find him, and a pursuit occurred. It involved Jennifer, his present wife, and he feared for their lives, but together they brought the man down quickly. Many years passed before he had to deal with the second adversary who entered his life.

He took a deep breath, dismissed those memories and leaned forward. Pulling a folder from the drawer, he set up a file for the Hamptons, and wrote on the outside the address and phone number George had supplied. He noted the old fellow lived in a high income part of town, which surprised him, due to his appearance. Maybe money wasn't a problem. You never knew about these old codgers, and definitely can't judge them by their clothes. He jotted down Morning Glory Haven, and the names of the three dead people George had mentioned. Sensing the leg work involved in this case, he figured a big challenge lay ahead. He'd first have to interview the family members of each of the deceased. Many times the residents of these selected establishments chose to stay near familiar territory even though their sons or daughters might live clear across the country. He could only pray he'd luck out.

George appeared serious about surveillance on his wife. The expense would be phenomenal as he'd have to pay top wages for this type of service. Hawkman would present Hampton with the estimated price and continue from there. Gathering up the needed contract and other forms, Hawkman slipped them into a large brown envelope which he placed on the desk.

Since Hawkman's office was in Medford, Oregon, a good hour and a half drive from Copco Lake, he left home early the next morning. Hampton had mentioned a dog named Pesky and he felt it would be a courteous gesture to pick up some doggie treats at a pet shop. He didn't have any trouble making up to canines and usually they'd mind his commands, unlike Jennifer's little scamp, Miss Marple. He chuckled to himself when he thought of the cat and how she tried to get by him with her antics.

Studying the different sized treats in the shop, and not knowing the weight of the animal, he chose medium sized biscuits. He then stopped by the office, picked up the brown envelope, and headed for George Hampton's place. As he drove through the upper class area, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of the architecture. Some house plots had tall fences with big pillars at intervals; others were surrounded with beautiful sculptured shrubs. There were two and three stories with a few single level homes scattered among them. When he reached the address, it didn't surprise him to find a lovely one story dwelling. George suffered from knee and back problems, so the choice made sense. The man must have money, because property here cost big bucks.

Hawkman turned into a circular driveway lined on both sides with a large white chain fence connected to short pillars every ten or so feet. He parked in front of the entry, got out and walked up a short aggregate sidewalk which led up a couple of steps to a porch that extended the width of the house. The front door made of highly polished oak with a beautiful beveled glass insert glistened in the sun. He pushed the bell and could hear chimes ringing through the house. A dog barked and when George finally got to the door, an energetic golden retriever, tail wagging, bounded out, and ran around Hawkman's legs.

"What a beautiful animal."

"Pesky, behave yourself,” George said, then gestured for Hawkman to come in. “Please forgive her. She loves company and gets very excited when anyone visits. Afraid she's not much of a watch dog. I think she'd get in the car with anyone who offered her a goody."

Hampton led Hawkman into a huge den that took his breath away. The walls were covered in rich dark paneling, and beautifully framed paintings of hunting scenes hung on both sides. A huge flat screen television almost covered one end, flanked with stands holding different types and lengths of fishing rods. The furniture was big, heavy duty, but covered with plush leather. The whole area definitely had a masculine touch.

"This is a man's dream room,” Hawkman said.

George stood leaning on his cane, smiling. “Thank you. As you can probably tell, I added my two cents worth in getting it decorated. Have a seat."

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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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?"