The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] (7 page)

Glancing out the window, it surprised him not to see icicles hanging from the gutters, nor any snow on the ground. The brown grass glistened with frost and when the early morning sun beams streaked across the roof of the fire house, it twinkled like diamonds.

Jennifer strolled into the room wrapped in a heavy robe with furry house shoes. “Brrrr, it's cold."

"It is. I wanted to cuddle this morning, but found an obstacle in my way,” he said, eyeing the cocky little cat.

Jennifer reached down and stroked the feline's back. “She knew where to get cozy."

"Want a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds wonderful."

They sat at the kitchen bar and chatted, then Hawkman glanced at his watch. “I'm going into town and see if I can catch Detective Williams. I'm going to ask if those Wallace brothers are known by the police."

"You be careful; I'm sure there's black ice on the road. The four-by-four won't help you there."

"I will.” He reached over and gave her a kiss, shrugged into his Marlboro coat, then picked up the briefcase and arrow, left out the front door, and closed it quickly to prevent any frigid air from entering.

Hawkman rolled into the police department's lot and parked. Leaving the valise and arrow under the passenger seat, he stepped out of the warm vehicle, turned up the collar of his coat and held onto his hat as a cold brisk breeze whipped around the corner of the building. He hurried into the department's main lobby, greeted familiar faces and headed down the hall to Williams’ office. The door stood open, so he poked his head around and noticed Williams at his usual task of signing papers.

"Do you ever get writer's cramp?” Hawkman asked.

Williams glanced up, raised his hand and twitched his fingers, then broke into a big grin. “Hey, buddy, good to see you. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Busy on cases.” He pointed to the stack of papers on the desk. “I can see you've had your share."

The detective shook his head. “It never stops.” He gestured toward a chair. “Have a seat and tell me what's on your mind."

Hawkman gave him a quick run-down on Laura King and how an arrow had been shot at his door. “I'm trying to find the culprit. I'm sure the incidents are connected due to the note. However, I have no eye witnesses, nor has Laura ever seen her stalker. She doesn't have an inkling who it could be. So I've been questioning people and came across a couple of names I thought I'd ask you about."

"Shoot."

"The Wallace brothers."

Williams groaned. “God, don't tell me you've encountered Steve and Greg Wallace."

"Not yet, but obviously they aren't strangers to you."

"They're a couple of rowdies. We've had them in here numerous times for one thing or another. My officers are constantly pulling over their black pickup for speeding or reckless driving."

"Have they ever been jailed?"

"Their dad, Al Wallace, is one of the wealthiest men in the county. He bails them out and sends them home to do the same thing the next day."

"Certainly doesn't sound like they're learning any good lessons."

"They're a couple of wild ones and it will be only a matter of time when the old man can't bail them out."

"Would you by any chance know if they're owners of a compound bow?"

"Yep. We've confiscated a couple off them."

"What were they doing?"

"Showing off at the county fair. They'd been denied an entry into the bow competition, but barged into the arena toting their bows and the police had to haul their butts out. They're a couple of law breakers and have no respect for rules and regulations."

"How old are they?"

Williams scratched the stubble on his chin, making a sound like sandpaper. “They're in their early twenties, but right off the top of my head I can't remember their exact ages, but they're really close. Not more than eighteen months apart; and to look at them, you'd think they were twins."

"I hate to ask, but do you have any mug shots?"

"I'm sure we do. Hang on a second and I'll see if I can pull the files."

The detective left the room for a few minutes, then returned. “Alice will do that little chore for me, and I told her to make a copy of each. She'll bring them in."

"Great. I don't know if these guys have anything to do with what I'm looking for, but they're the first lead I've had."

"You have to start somewhere. By the way, how's that pretty little wife of yours?"

"She's great and still writing mystery stories."

"With all the information you supply, she has plenty to write about."

"Tell me. She pumps me all the time about my cases."

Williams chuckled. “She's a great lady. Count yourself lucky. Not many like her around."

Hawkman nodded. “She's my life."

Alice walked in with papers in her hand. “Well, hello, Hawkman. Williams didn't tell me it was you who wanted copies of these two rascals."

"How are you, Alice?"

"I'm doing just fine.” She handed the copies to the detective. “Sure glad the holidays are over; maybe things can return to normal. Seems Christmas comes around faster every year.” She started to leave the room, then turned. “Tell Jennifer I said hello, and am waiting for her next book."

Hawkman lifted a hand. “I'll do that."

Williams passed a copy of the sheets to Hawkman. He glanced through the stats, then looked up at the detective.

"Says here the mother is deceased. When did she die and how?"

"About seven years ago, if my memory serves me right. She had breast cancer and didn't discover it in time. Even though she had a double mastectomy and went through a couple of years of chemotherapy, it came back. But this time, all over her body. She was a fine woman. It about killed Al Wallace. I think he lets those boys go without discipline because he couldn't stand the thought of hurting them in any way, especially since they lost their mother."

"Sad, but he isn't helping them by paying their way out of trouble. Do Greg or Steve have jobs or go to school?” Hawkman pointed to the papers. “Doesn't say here."

"Nothing we know about. I think Steve started college, then dropped out after his Freshman year. I'm not sure Greg ever started."

Hawkman stood. “I better get out of here so you can finish penning your name to those papers. Don't want you blaming me for getting behind."

Williams grinned. “You're already the bad guy; you've delayed me at least forty-five minutes."

"I'm out of here."

Before Hawkman could get through the door, Williams called, “Let me know if you need my help."

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Hawkman sat in his vehicle for a few minutes and read through the reports on the two Wallace brothers. He could definitely see where the boys looked like twins from their mug shots. Same jaw lines, noses, mouths, and they wore their hair in similar cuts. The eyes were shaped a little different, but they were good-looking young men. The pictures were black and white so he had to read the description. They both had black hair and green eyes; and one was five feet, nine inches tall, the other five feet, ten inches. Noting the address, he realized the Wallaces lived in the most elite neighborhood in town. Hawkman shook his head as he placed the papers on the passenger seat. “A couple of rich spoiled brats,” he mumbled, as he turned on the ignition.

He decided to drive by their home, and get a feel for what he could be in for when he decided to talk to them. As he entered the area, the scenery took his breath away. Each lot consisted of at least an acre, surrounded by a stone or brick wall. Elaborate displays of fountains or statues decorated the front center of lawns. Sculptured shrubs lined the sidewalks leading up to the fancy entry ways. He didn't notice many flower gardens in the front, but figured they were in the backyards where the family or guests would gather around the pools and patios. He finally found the Wallaces’ place. A regal two story palace. It stood on a corner lot, and as he turned onto the next street, he could see a tennis court at the back, surrounded by a high wire fence. Tall spot lights, which would light up the whole area for a night game, were erected on high poles at each corner. Past the court, and through the breaks in the large redwood trees, he could make out the outline of a pool area with all the amenities money could buy. “What a mansion,” he gasped aloud.

He made a U-turn and as he turned onto the street facing the house, one of the three doors of the garage opened and a late model black pickup backed out. The door slid back down and the vehicle turned and went around the circular driveway coming out in front of him. They blared their horn as they charged onto the street, forcing Hawkman to hit his brakes hard to avoid hitting the truck. The two young men gave him the finger as they surged ahead, leaving rubber on the pavement. Hawkman watched the pickup fishtail, then speed down the road. He prayed he wouldn't have to deal with those two scalawags.

Driving toward his office, he didn't come across the black pickup again, and wondered how those two spent their day. After he parked and started toward the stairs, the smell of fresh pastries hit his senses and he detoured to the bakery. A bear claw in hand, along with the briefcase, he jogged up the stairwell and entered his workplace.

He placed the valise on the desk, and had put on the coffee pot before he noticed the red blinking light of the answering machine. Pushing the button, he heard Laura's voice.

"Mr. Casey, I'm between classes, and discovered I had a voice message on my cell phone. It's from the caller. I've saved it and will drop by your office about two-thirty when I'm through for the day."

It would be interesting to hear this guy's voice, and he hoped it would record onto his machine, so he'd have a copy. He quickly checked the battery power on his voice activated recorder. It showed almost full, but he plugged it in anyway, so he'd have a full charge.

Hawkman glanced at his watch and realized she'd be here in about an hour. He wouldn't have time to go see the archery expert, beforehand, so he'd wait until Laura left.

While waiting for the young woman, he poured a cup of coffee, and munched on the pastry as he again read through the Wallace brothers’ reports from Detective Williams. He'd ask Laura if she knew these young men.

It wasn't long before a soft knock sounded on his door. “Come in,” he called.

Laura stuck her head in first. “Hi, Mr. Casey. I hope I didn't cause a problem leaving a message on your machine."

"Not at all. I'm glad you did. I'm anxious to hear the voice of this person. Come on in and have a seat."

She entered the office looking like a typical college student, wearing jeans, a hooded sweat shirt and cowboy boots. Scooting into the chair in front of his desk, she unzipped her fanny pack, pulled out her cell phone, and placed it on his desk.

"Will your parents worry about you if you don't arrive home at a given time?"

She shook her head. “I called and told them I'd be stopping by your office, so I'd be a little late."

"Good. Okay, let me hear what this guy had to say."

Hawkman put the phone to his ear and listened. He frowned as he heard the message. Once the voice stopped, he unplugged the recorder, and placed the phone over it, then pushed the button so the message would repeat. After the recorder stopped, he played the communication.

"Hello, pretty one. I love to watch you walking down the street swinging your butt. Gives me a hard on every time. I sure want to get between those shapely legs of yours.” Laura blushed as the words played. Then the guy laughed and dropped the connection.

She reached up and put her hands on her ears. “I hate him and I don't even know who he is."

Hawkman stared at the phone for a moment. “He's very crude. Definitely not a gentleman. It's strange he'd say such things if he really wanted to get close to you. It puzzles me."

Laura nodded. “I don't understand it either. I never talk dirty or use foul language, so if he knows anything about me at all, he should recognize the fact I'll never be his girlfriend when he talks like that."

"You think he might have you mixed up with someone else?"

She shook her head. “No. He knows exactly who he's talking to, because he repeated my whole name and where I live."

"He's called you Laura King before?"

"Yes. In one of the first calls I received from him a month or so ago. He called me by name and described our house."

"The outside or inside?"

"Outside, along with our barn and my pet lamb, Wendy."

"Sounds like he's been to your place."

She looked at him wide eyed. “When?"

"Did your dad ever make a list of his hired hands?"

"I don't know. I'll ask him tonight."

"Do you know Greg and Steve Wallace?"

She turned her lip up, forming a scowl and wrinkled her nose. “Yes, everyone knows those two. They're wild and do horrible things. No one likes them."

"Have you ever met with them in any way?"

"No. I keep my distance from those two."

"What about your neighbors?"

"Which ones?"

"The Higgins. There're boys in that family."

"They're nice. They've always helped us out when we needed it, and Dad has always been a good neighbor to their family."

"Tell me about them."

"John and Margy have three sons, Jim, Jerry, and Joey. Jim and Jerry are the oldest."

"How old?"

"She squinted her eyes. “I think in their late twenties. They love the farm and have always stayed close to home. Joey just graduated from high school and plans on going to college next year. He doesn't care for the outdoor work like his brothers."

"How do you know so much about these fellows?"

"Gosh, we've been neighbors for as long as I can remember. When we were little, we used to play together. Their family is always part of the social gatherings, also Mom and Margy are real good friends, as are our dads."

"What about the Rileys?"

She shrugged. “I don't know much about them. They moved into the farm house about three years ago and are quite a bit younger than my folks. I think they have a couple of little kids, not sure, as they stay pretty much to themselves; but they seem like a real cordial family."