Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  He put a finger to his lips. “Shush, you silly feline. I'll get you some food. No sense in waking up your mistress. She had enough on her mind last night without worrying about you. Anyway, you need to lose some weight.” Reaching down, he stroked her back as he poured some dry food into the bowl. “I must say though, you are a pretty animal.”

  While a pot of coffee brewed, he had a bowl of dry cereal and milk. He needed to get to Morning Glory Haven, as they were having a couple of events today and he wanted the residents to get used to seeing him and Kevin with Maggie. Then he hoped to reach some of the sons or daughters of the deceased.

  He rinsed out the bowl, and fixed a small thermos of coffee, leaving the rest for Jennifer. Tiptoeing back to his office, he picked up his briefcase and started to shut the door when he noticed the cat's toy on the carpet. He picked it up and tossed it into the living room as he passed. She bounced on it like a tiger after its prey. Smiling to himself at the sight, he scribbled a quick note to Jennifer and left it on the counter, then softly closed the front door.

  Driving toward Medford, he planned his day. The bingo games at Morning Glory would begin at one this afternoon. Then tonight at six-thirty they had a magician scheduled. He doubted the events would use the same room. He planned to attend with Maggie, if she felt like going to them both. He'd have time this morning to try and reach some of the relatives.

  Soon he arrived in the alley behind his office, parked and jogged up the steps. He unlocked the door, then set the briefcase next to the computer and noticed an envelope on the floor in front of the mail slot. He quickly scanned Kevin's report, which didn't indicate any unusual goings on, and Maggie had showed him a good time. Chuckling, he folded the sheet of paper and put it into his valise. So far, no clues were evident at Morning Glory Haven. He then removed the Hampton file and sat down at the desk.

  The first name on his list was the beloved Marion Carter with only one leg. Her son lived on the East coast. More than likely, this number belonged to a cell phone; so hopefully, he'd be able to reach Jerry Carter without much of a problem. He picked up the receiver, punched in the digits, then pushed the speaker button. Flipping over a sheet on his tablet while waiting, he readied himself to take a few notes.

  “Jerry Carter speaking.”

  “Hello, Mr. Carter, my name's Tom Casey. I'm a private investigator looking into deaths that have occurred at the Morning Glory Haven. I believe your mother passed away while a resident there.”

  “Uh, yes. Is there a problem?”

  “Nothing we've uncovered yet. George and Maggie Hampton have hired me because they feel uncomfortable about three of their friends who have died, so I'm going back a little farther in time to see if there were any questions about others.”

  “I met the Hamptons. Very pleasant people. Mother had no serious health problems that we knew about, so her death came as a shock. Of course, we miss her. She was always so positive.”

  “I understand she was loved and always laughing.”

  His voice caught. “I wanted her to come live with me, but she insisted on staying in the area she knew. I could understand, so we put her in the best home there. I tried to come out and see her at least three times a year. I'd scheduled a visit the week after she passed away.”

  “I'm sorry. I know this is hard on you. But if you don't mind answering a few questions, it would help my investigation.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you have an autopsy done?”

  “No, the doctor said her heart gave out and she died peacefully in her sleep.”

  “Did she have her own personal physician?”

  “Yes, but once she went into the home, she felt like going to see him on a regular basis would be too expensive, even though I told her I'd pay for it. Parents can be very stubborn. However, he did drop by and see her occasionally.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Dr. Phil Hart. I believe he's associated with Mercy Hospital.”

  “Do you know if she ever saw any other doctor?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “Would your mother have changed doctors for any reason?”

  “Only if he was cheaper.”

  “I see. Thank you, Mr. Carter. This information helps a lot. If I have any more questions, may I call you again?”

  “Certainly, any time. I pray you don't find any foul play.”

  “Me, too.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Hawkman sat back in the chair and tapped the pencil on his desk. Then he leaned forward and circled the name Dr. Phil Hart at Mercy Hospital. Checking the list of the deceased, Faith Lambert appeared next, a woman not well-liked by the residents of Morning Glory Haven. He'd soon find out how the family felt.

  Punching the speaker button, he dialed her daughter, Janis Hamel, and after five rings, a breathless woman answered.

  “Hello,” she panted.

  “I'm calling for Janis Hamel.”

  “Speaking.”

  Hawkman identified himself, and explained his mission. “May I ask you a few questions about your mother's death?”

  “You can ask all you want, but I'm glad she's gone. She drove my brother and me nuts.”

  Not expecting such a response, it took him a moment to regain his composure. “Could you tell me the cause of her death?”

  “Old age and crankiness. The woman hated life and everything about it. She bitched and complained until no one wanted to be around her. Even as kids we could hardly wait to get out of the house.”

  “Surely something physical occurred, like a heart attack or an ailment of sorts. Did she have diabetes or any other malady?”

  “Yes, she had diabetes, but the doctor said her heart stopped. She died in her sleep.”

  “Who was her doctor?”

  “I don't remember his name.”

  “Were you concerned about the sudden death of your mother?”

  “Are you kidding. We were all relieved.”

  “So, you probably didn't have an autopsy done?”

  “No way. We could hardly wait to bury her.”

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. Hamel.”

  “You're welcome. Bye.”

  After hanging up, Hawkman stared at the phone for several seconds, then took a deep breath and jotted ‘forget this one’ alongside her name. As he arose from his chair to pour another cup of hot coffee, he wondered if Mrs. Lambert's kids could have done her in. He just couldn't fathom a mother being so hated by her own children.

  Leaving it on speaker, he dialed the number of Lillian Nichols in Grants Pass, Oregon, one of Jacob Thompson's daughters. A young male voice answered.

  “May I speak with Lillian Nichols please?”

  “Who's calling?”

  “Private Investigator, Tom Casey.”

  “Just a moment.”

  Hawkman could hear the boy yelling, “Mom, a private investigator wants to talk to you.”

  “Who?” a woman asked, as footsteps approached the phone. “Hello.”

  “Is this Lillian Nichols?”

  “Yes, who are you?”

  Hawkman again went through the dialog of explaining his purpose.

  “I've talked with the Hamptons several times when Dad and I would take a walk around the building. So tell me again why they've hired a private investigator.”

  “They're concerned about the recent untimely deaths of three of their friends. I'm going back a little farther in time to see if the families of others who have passed away were anxious over their losses.”

  “Dad suffered from heart problems, so it didn't shock us too badly. We were thankful he passed away peacefully in his sleep. Of course, we never imagine our parents leaving us. When Mom went, it devastated the whole family. Dad was never the same after she died. He just seemed to lose all hope and became quite depressed. We couldn't seem to bring him out of it. Neither Nancy, my sister, nor I, could talk him into coming to
live with us. We thought it might help to be around his grandkids. He wouldn't have any part of it and decided he wanted to live at Morning Glory Haven. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to lift him out of the slump.”

  “I understand. It must have been hard, and I hate to freshen the ache, but could I ask you a few questions?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did your dad have a private physician who attended him?”

  “No, he'd just make an appointment with any of the heart specialist at the hospital and go see them.”

  “Did those doctors confirm his problem?”

  “Yes. So when we got him situated at Morning Glory Haven, I talked with one of the physicians he'd seen. He assured me he'd keep an eye on dad. Now whether he did or not, I have no idea. Dad was very private about his health.”

  “Did you request an autopsy?”

  “No, we didn't think it necessary.”

  “I want to thank you, Ms. Nichols, for your time. If I have any more questions, may I call you?”

  “Certainly. I'd like to hear back from you also. It's disturbing to think there might be a problem at Morning Glory Haven.”

  “We have no evidence of any wrong doing. I will definitely let you know if we find anything.”

  “I'd appreciate it. Have a great day.”

  “You, too.”

  Hawkman checked his watch and had enough time to call one more person. He again pushed the speaker button and dialed the wife of Ronald White.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Mrs. Edna White?”

  “Yes, and if you're a salesman I don't want any.”

  He chuckled. “No, I'm a private investigator hired by George and Maggie Hampton.”

  “Oh, my goodness, why do they need you? Has something happened?”

  “They're concerned about some of the untimely deaths of their friends and have brought me in to see if anything is awry.”

  “You mean at the home?”

  “Yes, but we haven't found any problems so far.”

  “Well, that's a relief.”

  “Tell me about your husband, Ronald.”

  “He made me put him in Morning Glory Haven, because he knew I couldn't take care of him. I didn't want him to go, but he insisted. He said we were getting old, didn't have the energy or stamina we used to have, and he didn't want me to go downhill because of him.” She sniffed. “I miss him so much.”

  “I'm sure you do. What ailment did he have?”

  “He had lymphoma. The cancer didn't seem to affect him, but the chemotherapy knocked him for a loop, because of the diabetes. He'd be sick for days.”

  “Wouldn't he have gotten over it?”

  “The doctor thought he would. However, months passed after the treatments and he didn't get much better. He felt he was strong enough to handle his own problems, but he knew it would worry me constantly. At Morning Glory, he didn't have to drive to get where he wanted to go.” She laughed. “To tell you the truth after we visited there, he figured he'd get a lot better food too.”

  “So did his doctor think putting him in the home was the best thing?”

  “Yes, he thought it a good idea for both our sakes. It's a very pleasant place and Ron loved it. I figured it wouldn't be long before I'd join him. He and George Hampton had so much fun. When I'd go spend the day, those two guys would watch sports on the television and I'd join Maggie. We'd watch a movie or play cards at her apartment.”

  “I imagine your oncologist kept a good eye on your husband.”

  “I guess he did. Ron would make a trip to see him about once a month. The doctor didn't think he could take any more treatments.”

  “What's the oncologist's name?”

  “Dr. Stephen Riley out of Mercy Hospital.”

  “Did your husband die of the cancer?”

  “No, his heart gave out. Guess it just couldn't handle the diabetes and cancer. He passed away peacefully in his sleep.”

  “You didn't by any chance have an autopsy done?”

  “No, didn't see any need.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hawkman took a deep breath after ending his call with Mrs. White. No autopsies done on any of these people. He could understand their passing would be anticipated at some point, as they were getting older. The relatives didn't question the doctor's listed cause of death in any of these cases. Now, with this background, he felt more comfortable approaching the three relatives of the Hamptons’ friends. He placed the notes in the briefcase, checked his watch, and headed for Morning Glory Haven.

  When he reached the parking lot, he left the files in the vehicle under the driver's seat, locked up and hurried toward the front door. Maggie had just turned the corner, scooting the walker, as George leisurely walked at her side.

  She glanced up and smiled. “I didn't think you'd make it.”

  Hawkman fell in alongside. “Why, I wouldn't miss this adventure. Not sure I remember much, but you two can help me.”

  Maggie stopped in her tracks. “You've actually played bingo before?”

  “Oh, yeah, but it's been about five years when I worked on a case.”

  “Really?” George said, as they continued slowly toward the entertainment center. “What in the world happened at a bingo hall that would require a private investigator?”

  “A young woman never returned home from a night of fun. Her dad hired me to find her.”

  “Did you?” Maggie asked.

  “Yep. Safe and sound. A scary ordeal though.”

  “How do you keep track of all your cases?”

  “I code name them. Like the bingo hall one, I call Blackout.”

  “When you have time, I'd like to hear some of the other names,” Maggie said, as they entered the large room filled with tables.

  Heads turned and attention focused on the tall cowboy with the eye-patch.

  “You're certainly getting a lot of attention,” Maggie smirked. “Okay, ladies, focus your eyes to the front. He's mine.”

  Twitters of laughter filled the air.

  They strolled down an aisle, stopped at a table, paid two dollars for a packet of papers, then hunted for a place to sit. The room soon filled to capacity. A large bingo machine took up one end of the room and stood on a slightly elevated stage, high enough so everyone could see the caller.

  Once situated at the table, Hawkman noticed they had free coffee and figured this would give him an opportunity to roam around before the games began. “You guys want some Java?”

  “None for me,” Maggie said, as she took a bottle of water from her bingo bag. “I get the jitters if I drink too much caffeine. I have my water.”

  “I'll have a cup,” George said. “Black, please.”

  Hawkman rose and moseyed around the long way, studying the patrons as he went. A small table occupied one corner where a woman sold daubers, candy bars and assorted chips. He soon returned to the group with two plastic cups of coffee and sat down next to Maggie.

  The noise level had gone up several decibels, almost to the point of hurting one's ears. It seemed most people felt they had to yell at one another to make sure the other person heard them. When the noise level lowered, George pushed a blue dauber toward Hawkman.

  “You'll need one of these.” He pointed toward the stage area. “The caller's here, so we'll be starting any minute.”

  “Good luck, guys.” Maggie said, as she placed a miniature elephant on the table.

  “What's that for?” Hawkman asked.

  “Gives me good luck.”

  He grinned, as he watched the man flip on the machine.

  “Okay, everyone ready?” the caller asked.

  “Yeah!” they all yelled.

  When the session ended, Hawkman walked back to Maggie's apartment with the couple. “Do they have the magician's show in the same place?”

  “No, it will be in the big room with the jukebox. They set up a small portable stage so the entertainer is h
igh enough for everyone to see. Makes it more like a small auditorium,” George said.

  “This place sure has much to offer,” Hawkman said. “No wonder you enjoy being here, Maggie.”

  “It should have a lot of stuff. It's expensive enough,” George said.

  “I agree. I saw a breakdown of the costs.”

  “I'm going to rest awhile,” Maggie said, heading for the bedroom.

  “You feeling okay?” Hawkman asked.

  “I'm fine, just a bit pooped. I'll see you tonight.”

  “Shall I meet you downstairs where the show will be held?”

  “That'll be fine. No need for you to come all the way up here. I don't think we'll miss you. You definitely stand out in the crowd.”

  “Okay, see you two tonight.” He strolled out of the room and ambled down the hallway. A couple of women stood against the wall not far from Maggie's quarters and stared at him. They had their hands in front of their mouths, talking as if he could read their lips. He touched his hat. “Hello, ladies.”

  One of them pointed. “Mister. What's your name?”

  He stopped. “Tom Casey.”

  “Why are all you strange men coming and going out of Maggie's room?”

  “We're her bodyguards.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Why does she need someone to protect her?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. It doesn't affect anyone here, so please, don't let our presence disturb you.” He stepped closer. “What are your names?”

  “I'm Jessica, but everyone calls me Jessie, and this is Margy.”

  “Have a good day.” Turning on his heel, he strolled to the elevator, then left the building.

  Hawkman parked in the alley behind his office, grabbed the briefcase from under the seat and hurried up the steps. Once inside, he went over his notes and shook his head. The people were all diabetic and each had died of heart failure. It sort of made sense as diabetes was not a disease you could ignore. He'd found nothing to make him suspicious of anyone at the Independent Living place. However, since George had hired him to look into the deaths of their friends, if foul play was involved at the facility he couldn't eliminate the risk of Maggie's life being in danger.