Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “Do you know what you have at home?”

  “Not off the top of my head.”

  “Tonight take inventory, just so you know what you have.”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  Hawkman stepped out of the apartment and continued down to the first floor in hopes of finding Detective Williams free. Noticing the entry area had cleared except for a couple of guards at the door, he asked the officers if the detective had left.

  They gestured toward the craft room. “He's set up headquarters in a small room down that hallway.”

  Hawkman gave a wave. “Thanks.” He crossed the room and moved down the corridor. When he entered the opened door, he found Williams sitting at a small table talking to a couple of police detectives. He glanced up when Hawkman entered.

  “Come on in and put in your two cents worth.”

  Hawkman scooted up an empty chair and sat down. “So what's your first line of attack on this problem?”

  Williams hooked a thumb toward the two men sitting next to him. “These guys are getting ready to split up the list of diabetics and ask a few pertinent questions. Then Dr. Grahm will be here in an hour. He volunteered to come in and assist as much as he could.”

  Hawkman raised his brows. “That's interesting.”

  “Really, why?”

  Not wanting to sound negative, Hawkman skimmed the surface of his meeting with Grahm. “I think he's petrified at being in this predicament. He'll more than likely be very cooperative.”

  Williams leaned back and looped his arm over the nearby chair. “You think he's guilty of anything?”

  “I doubt it. He's just in deeper than he ever thought a so called volunteer job would get him.”

  The detective came forward and put his hands on the table. “Give it to me upfront. I know you've got some idea of what's going on. Clue me in.”

  Hawkman raised his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his hair, then pushed it back on his head. “I wish I had an inkling, but right now I don't have the vaguest idea who's doing these people in.”

  Williams raised his brows. “People? I thought there was just one.”

  “I think more have died under suspicious circumstances, but there's no proof unless you want to exhume some bodies.” He gave him the rundown on the deaths of the last six months.

  The detective hit the table with his fist. “Damn, sounds like we've got a serial killer on our hands.”

  “Could be. I figure one or two of those deaths were natural. However, I think the others were murder, and the killer is right under our noses.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “The victims were all diabetic. They gave themselves their insulin shots. I could understand a mistake or two, but not with all of them. It appears someone was fooling with their dosages.”

  “What about the staff?”

  “I've chatted with each of the employees at one time or the other. None of them aroused my suspicions. However, I haven't done an in depth investigation on any of them yet. One could very well be skilled at killing people.”

  “What about the outside contractors?”

  “All the people who work here are in-house employees. The only one contracted is the yard maintenance and none of them come inside.”

  Williams shook his head. “What the hell would be the motive for getting rid of old people?”

  “Some weird cases have occurred throughout history, but many boil down to putting people out of their misery. Doesn't make sense in this scenario because some of these just had bad arthritic conditions or were at a phase in their lives where they didn't want the responsibility of a home and yard anymore. Oh, sure, each one had some sort of medical problem, but not to the point of dying the next day, if you know what I mean.” Hawkman took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, all the people who have passed away are somehow connected to my clients.”

  Williams tilted his head and stared at him. “You're joshing, aren't you?”

  “I wish.” He then related the story of how George had hired him. “So it really doesn't surprise me, as they thought something didn't smell right. I went back a few months in the books with the patient coordinator and we discovered several deaths had occurred within a six month period. I can't put a finger on a motive.”

  “Did the victims have something in common besides being diabetic?”

  “They knew each other. Maybe not as close friends, but acquaintances.”

  The detective ran his hands over his face. “I can see right now, we've got a complicated mess on our hands.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I worry about getting any reliable information from these people.” Hawkman raised a hand and wiggled it in front of him. “Many don't have good eyesight and half the time they don't remember from one minute to the next. It's not going to be an easy task.”

  “What about the ones who are delinquent in their bills?” Williams asked.

  “I've checked it out. Everyone is paid up, even the ones who passed away had their payments up to date. Mackle is worried many residents will move out after they hear about the murder investigation, and he won't be able to fill the apartments, causing a financial burden on the facility. So mark him off your list. He'd have no reason to kill off a paying customer.”

  “What's in these other wings of the building?”

  “One holds the assisted living group and the other one is Alzheimer patients. The Alzheimer section is completely locked off from the other two groups. There's no way they can even get into either section without being discovered immediately.”

  Williams slapped a hand on the table. “You have any suggestions on where the hell we should begin?”

  “I'm hoping Mackle can get it through the residents’ heads to stay in their rooms after dinner, so you can find them. Why don't you station a couple of men in each hallway, so if someone leaves they can keep an eye on their apartment and make sure no stranger enters the place. Try to keep the daytime events going so the people don't get too nervous.”

  “Can you hang around awhile and show us the ropes, since you're more familiar with the territory?”

  “Sure.”

  Williams rose. “Let's go talk to my men and get a routine scheduled.”

  The two headed toward the entry where the police officers had gathered.

  * * * *

  Maggie finished jotting down the insulin supplies she had stored in the dresser drawer, and pushed her way into the living room where George had the television on. She waved the paper. “Okay, I've got it all written out for our dear Mr. Casey.”

  He twisted around in the chair. “Good girl.”

  “George, turn off that boob tube. We need to talk.”

  He frowned. “What about?”

  She hobbled toward the couch and flopped down. The paper still in her hand, she held it up. “About all of this.”

  He turned off the television and tossed the remote on the coffee table. “Yeah, what's the problem. Hawkman said the police would want a list.”

  “Well, it's not just about the inventory of the medications. I'm sick of the whole thing. I'm tired of being followed around, told I can't leave my quarters and scolded like a kid. I want you to let Mr. Casey go.”

  George's mouth dropped open. “Why? He's protecting you. I can't take the chance of you getting hurt, especially now.”

  She shook a finger at him. “I'm a grown woman. I don't need to be hovered over, and it's very irritating. Half my friends are afraid to come visit me because of all the attention this whole mess is getting. They don't like being stopped at the door by a guard.”

  George held up his hands in protest. “Get off your high horse. He's only doing what I pay him to do, and it won't last forever.”

  “That's another item we need to talk about.” She stared at him, her eyes narrowed into slits. “He's costing us a small fortune and we can get the same thing f
ree from the police.”

  “Maggie, you don't seem to understand. Mr. Casey is concerned only about you. The police are spreading themselves thin over the whole place and you won't get the personal attention.”

  She let out a loud sigh. “Exactly. No one will be breathing down my collar.”

  “You still won't be able to leave and roam around. They've already put out the order that all residents are to stay in their apartments after dinner.”

  “Well, they'll have a hard time enforcing it.”

  “Maggie,” he spat, “they're trying to find a murderer. Don't you want to cooperate?”

  “I think this whole fiasco is a farce.”

  “How can you say such a thing? Gladys died because of an insulin overdose. Someone gave her a fatal shot.”

  Maggie pointed a crooked finger. “How do we know it's true?”

  “The autopsy proved it.”

  “If you hadn't hired Tom Casey to begin with, Morning Glory Haven would never be in this mess. He has stirred up a bumble bee's nest and see where it's got us.” She raised her arms in frustration. “The whole place is in an uproar.”

  “Someone would have gotten suspicious eventually.”

  “Who would have disputed a doctor's diagnosis? No one was the wiser until that smart ass detective you hired came into the picture.”

  “You were also worried about the other deaths.”

  She harrumphed. “I had no idea you'd go out and hire a private investigator agency. Little did I realize what a pain in the butt it would be having a crew of men monitoring my every move. They've even gotten you so involved, I can't be out of your sight for a minute.”

  “The reasoning all makes perfect sense to me. Why can't you see it?”

  She sighed, kicked off her shoes and rested her feet on the couch. “Just get rid of Casey and his helper.”

  “I'll have to think about it.”

  “If you don't, I'll fire him.”

  George rose from his chair, his cheeks flaming red. He grabbed his cane resting at the side and jammed it hard against the floor. “Woman, you make me so mad, I want to spit fire. Trying to do the right thing for you is like chewing nails.”

  She raised a hand and flitted her fingers in the air. “You'll get over it.”

  George limped toward the door, banging the walking stick against the entry tile on each step.

  “Where are you going?”

  He turned and scowled. “I'm going to go find Mr. Casey and fire him.”

  With a smirk, Maggie stood, slipped her feet into her shoes and grabbed the walker. “I'm going to dinner. You can join me if you wish.”

  “I'm not hungry. Enjoy your meal.” He lumbered out of the room and down the hallway.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  George stepped out of the elevator, then hobbled down the corridor, hardly noticing the nods or greetings of residents heading toward the dining room. He had no idea if Tom Casey still lingered in the building, but he'd do a search to make Maggie happy. Stopping for a moment to rest his knees, he glanced around the large room and immediately recognized the tall, lanky figure with the cowboy hat perched on his head standing near the front door. He and another man appeared to be in a deep conversation. Out of breath, George decided to wait and sat down on one of the plush sofas in the living room area.

  The Marketing Director, Carmen Sanders, happened by at the moment. “Are you all right, Mr. Hampton?”

  He nodded. “I'm fine. Just waiting for Mr. Casey.”

  She smiled and headed down one of the corridors.

  Soon, Hawkman glanced in his direction, and motioned for the other man to follow. George stood for a moment as he shook his bones into shape, then using his cane for support, limped toward the private investigator.

  “Hello, George. Have you met Detective Williams?”

  After they shook hands, George addressed Hawkman. “I wonder if I could speak to you a moment in private?”

  Detective Williams backed away. “I'll be in the facility headquarters if you need me.”

  Hawkman waved and turned back to Hampton. “You want to go back to Maggie's room?”

  George shook his head. “No, let's go outside.”

  “It's nippy out there. You think your sweater will keep you warm enough?”

  “I'll be fine. This won't take but a minute.”

  Hawkman noticed Maggie scooting by with her walker, but she didn't even glance in their direction. He held the door open, and they stepped out into a gusty breeze. “Let's stay within the alcove.” Hawkman said. It will protect us from that cold wind.”

  George leaned against the wall, clutched his walking stick with both hands, and scowled. “I want you to know I'm not happy about what I'm about to say.”

  Hawkman frowned. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, Maggie wants me to fire you.”

  Surprised, Hawkman stepped back and stared at George. “Why?” Then he raised a hand. “Don't tell me, I bet I know. She's sick of being followed.”

  “Yep,” George nodded, “and she argues I shouldn't have to pay you for protection, when the police will give it to us free.”

  “Does she realize she won't get the same individual attention from the force as from me?”

  “I tried to talk some sense into her, but she waved it off. She's my spouse, and this is all very frustrating for her. I can't have my better half upset, so guess I'm going to have to let you go.”

  “I'm sorry she feels that way.”

  “Let me know what I owe you and I'll write out a check.”

  “I haven't done the paperwork on the case yet. I'll send you a bill if your advance didn't cover all the hours we've put in. Or I'll reimburse you for anything left.”

  George rubbed his arms. “Thank you, for all you've done.”

  Hawkman reached over and opened the door. “You better get in out of this cold. Tell Maggie her freedom begins now. I'll get in touch with Kevin and tell him of your decision.”

  George hobbled inside, glanced toward the dining hall, took a deep breath, and limped toward the eatery.

  * * * *

  Hawkman headed out into the parking lot where he'd get a better signal with his cell phone. Holding onto his hat, he braved the gusts of wind and sought shelter behind his 4X4. He dialed Kevin and told him the news. He grumbled a little about not having the easy job anymore, but assured him he wouldn't miss it.

  Hurrying back into the building, Hawkman made his way to the detectives’ headquarters where he found Williams bent over some paperwork at his makeshift desk. “Good grief, does the paper trail follow you, even when you're out on an active case?”

  Williams glanced up. “It follows me to bed at night.” He placed the pen on top of the stack and leaned back in the chair. “So what did Hampton want?”

  “He fired me. Said no need to pay for what the police would do for him free.”

  The detective threw back his head and guffawed. When he regained his composure, he leaned forward. “Sorry about that my friend, but it just struck my funny bone.”

  Hawkman grinned. “It hit my wallet.”

  “I bet it did. Are you going to abandon the case completely?”

  “Not if you don't mind me hanging around. I'm in this pretty deep and would like to see what else I can find out.”

  “Glad to have you, but unfortunately can't put you on the payroll.”

  “No problem.” A shadow caught Hawkman's eye, and he glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “The doctor's here. I'll leave you two and stroll the halls for a bit.”

  Dr. Grahm slowly moved inside the doorway. “Hello, Mr. Casey. I hope I'm not interrupting.”

  “Not at all. I'm just leaving.”

  Hawkman stepped out into the stream of residents leaving the dining hall. He crossed through the group where he didn't have to worry about being slowed by someone pushing a walker or using a cane. Not seeing Maggie, he assume
d George had joined her and they were going to be a bit late getting out. He'd like to have one last chat with her before deleting the case from his books.

  He stood in the corridor awaiting the Hamptons return when he noted Margy and Jessie coming back from dinner. As they moved past him, he wondered if the women were related. They had the same gestures and even resembled each other in their facial features. He'd stop by Lisa's office one of these days and ask her.

  “What are you doing hanging around my door?”

  Hawkman jerked around to find Maggie standing in the arms of her walker, her face contorted in a frown.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “I thought George let you go?”

  “He did. I just came by to tell you Kevin won't be bothering you anymore. I called and relieved him of his duties.”

  “Thank goodness. I'll have an evening of peace. I can hardly wait to tell my friends, so they'll feel comfortable in coming around again.”

  “Remember Maggie, everyone is confined to their rooms after dinner.”

  She waved a hand. “That's a bunch of baloney. Do they suspect any of us old cronies are killers?”

  “Very possible, so I wouldn't cause any problems. The police are not patient and might haul you off to spend the night in a jail cell.”

  She tossed her head, hitched the walker around, and headed into her room.

  “Oh, by the way, where's George?”

  “I sent him home. He drives me as batty as you and your helper.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Hawkman shook his head as Maggie disappeared into her room. He strolled to the elevator, and as he stepped onto the main floor, the smell of food made his stomach growl. He decided to go grab a sandwich and return later. First, he checked the bulletin board, and observed no event had been scheduled for today, so that would help keep the traffic down. Making his way toward the front door, he noticed the large room stood empty of residents who usually lingered and chatted after dinner. He figured they'd gone directly to their rooms.