Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  When he went outside, the wind had died down considerably. At least he wouldn't have to hold onto his hat, or end up chasing it across the parking lot. He drove to a fast food place, ordered a hamburger, fries, and soda to go. Deciding to eat on the premises, he found a vacant slot at the front of the building and parked.

  As he headed back to Morning Glory Haven, he tried to evaluate what he'd learned so far. It made him a little on edge to know Maggie had insulin in her room, and he wouldn't be there to protect her. He realized the murderer could be diabetic, and have plenty of insulin on hand to carry out a horrible deed. If he or she wasn't diabetic, they'd have to get the insulin from another source. George seemed to lose his pens or mess up a dose fairly often, and Hawkman doubted Maggie kept track of the amount on hand except when it got low. How many people had she complained to about her husband's carelessness?

  If the guilty party had heard her rants, and observed her behavior, the person would know how often she left the room. Now, with George her only guardian, it wouldn't take long for the perp to discover things were back to normal. The minute the Hamptons disappeared down the hallway, it would only take a minute to pick the lock on Maggie's quarters, and take the insulin without ever getting caught.

  Hawkman decided to talk to Detective Williams about checking the amount of insulin the diabetics had stored in their apartments against a next day count, minus what they'd used; then they'd know if any had disappeared. It would also help in knowing who had insulin available. It might help in tracking down the culprit. He was willing to try anything, as he didn't want another unnecessary death to occur. These people deserved every day of life they could muster.

  When he reached Morning Glory Haven, he immediately went to find Williams, only to find the door locked. Searching through the first floor, he came across an officer guarding the corridor and asked where the detective had gone.

  “He was called out on an emergency and should be back shortly,” he said.

  “Are the residents cooperating?”

  “So far, except for the Hampton woman on the second floor. She doesn't want to stay in her quarters.”

  Hawkman suppressed a grin. “Figures. Where does she want to go?”

  “I walked with her up and down the hallway as she knocked on almost every door and said goodnight.”

  “Sounds mighty calm so far. By the way, do you know if Detective Williams got a list of the diabetics?”

  “Yes, he got them on all floors and we've talked with each person. They all keep extra insulin in their rooms. We recorded the amounts and the detective has the information in his files.”

  “Good. How about Maggie Hampton?”

  He nodded.

  Since Williams had already gotten the information, he didn't need to bother Maggie again. She didn't appear in the best of moods, and he didn't particularly care about hearing her tirade again. He headed toward the front door and since the lab had found sleep inducing chemicals in Mrs. Owens’ body, he wondered if she'd taken an extra dose on her own? He needed to talk to her daughter. Tomorrow he'd speak to Ms. Montgomery and ask if Sidney Wilder had come to pick up her mother's things yet.

  His thoughts were interrupted when he spotted Detective Williams hurrying toward the makeshift headquarters. He motioned for Hawkman to follow. After turning on the lights, Williams flopped down in the chair at the table and opened the file he had in his hands.

  “I received the full autopsy report on Gladys Owens. We now have the brand of insulin administered. The problem is, it's very popular and every pharmacy in town carries it, plus the mail-in places where it would be almost impossible to check, unless we found a receipt.”

  “Did the report tell what kind of sleeping aid they found? Hawkman asked.

  “Yes, a prescription drug called Halcion. Very strong medication. I'm going to check with her physician and see if it was prescribed.”

  “She must have had trouble getting a good night's rest.”

  Williams nodded. “Sure sounds like it.”

  “Have you scheduled a follow up on the insulin each person has in his or her personal stash?”

  “Yes, we'll compare it with the record we have each day, minus new prescriptions and the amount used.”

  “Good. Of course, until we have another death, which I hate to think about, we might not find our scoundrel.”

  “Unless we can catch the perp in the act.”

  Hawkman rose. “I'm going to call it a night and head out of here. I'll see you in the morning.”

  Williams raked his fingers across the stubble on his chin. “Soon as the fresh crew checks in, I hope to take off, get a shower and a few winks of sleep myself.”

  “See ya tomorrow.”

  Hawkman left the building, climbed into his SUV and journeyed home.

  * * * *

  Tuesday morning, Hawkman arrived at his office before the donut baker had the ovens fired up. He made a pot of coffee and sat down at his desk to go over the Hamptons’ financial statement. After writing out the hours Kevin had documented and his part of the fee, he discovered George would owe about five hundred extra dollars over the initial payment. He leaned back in his chair and wondered if Maggie had figured this out herself, and decided they'd paid him enough. Grinning at the thought, he wrote out a check for Kevin, addressed an envelope, and planned to mail it on his way to Morning Glory Haven. He tucked the invoice for George into his pocket and had just unplugged the coffee urn when the phone rang.

  Punching on the speaker, he gave his usual greeting.

  “Hawkman, Detective Williams. I'm glad you're at the office. I need your help in trying to talk some sense into your ex-client.”

  “The Hamptons?”

  “Yeah, the Mrs., she's a spitfire and won't cooperate with my officers.”

  “Okay, I'll be right over, but not sure I can do any good. Is George there yet?”

  “No, and I can't reach him on the phone. Tried several times, but no answer.”

  Hawkman frowned. “That's odd. He's usually there by now. I think I'll run by his place and check on him.”

  “You think there might be a problem?”

  “He's diabetic and not good about checking his blood sugar. His doctor told me he worried about him. I better make sure he's okay. Has Maggie tried to reach him?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn't seem too concerned. Says he might be in the shower or running an errand.”

  “I'll be there after I run by his place.”

  Hawkman hurried out of the office and drove to the Hamptons’ home. When he pulled up in front, he noticed the white Cadillac sitting in the driveway and not tucked in the garage. “Looks like he's been out this morning,” he mumbled, heading for the entry.

  He heard Pesky barking as the doorbell chimed. It sounded as if she was running back and forth for George to hurry.

  “Stay,” he heard Hampton say, as he opened the door.

  When he saw Hawkman, his face clouded. “Something wrong?”

  Pesky darted by George and ran around Hawkman's legs. He reached down and petted the beast to calm her. “I don't know. Got a call from Detective Williams a few minutes ago. He said you hadn't shown up and he couldn't reach you, so thought I'd drop by.”

  George stepped back. “Come in. I ran to the pharmacy to pick up some insulin; I was running low. What's the problem? Is Maggie okay?”

  “As far as I know she's fine physically, but giving the police a hard time, not sure what about. I'm headed over there now.”

  George threw his hands in the air. “I don't know what I'm going to do with that woman. I'd like to bring her home so I could keep an eye on her. All the attention she gets over there makes me unhappy. I'm afraid someone's going to hurt her.”

  “Since you're okay, I'm going to head over to Morning Glory Haven and find out what's going on.” Hawkman turned to leave, then swiveled around, and pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket. “Oh, before I forget, here's the invoice for my services. You owe five hundred.
Thanks for hiring me.”

  “I'll get a check to you. Sorry it was a short haul. I'd been happy to keep you on until this whole mess was solved.”

  “I understand.”

  “Tell Maggie I'll be there shortly.”

  Hawkman left Hampton holding Pesky by the collar and trying to get her back into the house. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced in the side mirror, and noticed George must have finally succeeded in getting his pet inside, as he'd shut the front door. His mind went back to their conversation. What did he mean about all the attention Maggie got at the home? Hawkman wasn't sure what to make of it, but shook it off as one of George's offhanded remarks.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Hawkman arrived at Morning Glory and went straight to Maggie's room without stopping to check with Detective Williams. Stepping out of the elevator he almost ran into Carmen Sanders. She let out a yelp as he grabbed her shoulder so she wouldn't fall.

  “Forgive me, I had so much on my mind I wasn't paying attention,” Hawkman said.

  Straightening herself, she forced a smile. “No problem. It's been a bit hectic around here. I don't think any of us are in our right minds at the moment.”

  “How are the residents taking the rumor of a possible murder in the facility?”

  She shook her head and gazed at the floor. “Not good, I'm afraid. Many are talking about moving out, even though I've told them Mrs. Owens death could have been an accident caused by her own hand.”

  “I'm sure they fear for themselves.”

  Nodding, she stepped past him and moved into the elevator. “Have a good day.”

  He watched the door slide shut and heard the hum of the pulleys as the machine carried her to the ground floor. Moving down the hallway to Maggie's apartment, he knocked.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Not knowing what reaction he'd meet with when Maggie saw him, he turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. She sat on the couch near the window, and he could hear the clicking of her knitting needles. A woman who could go from one mood to the next in a blink of an eye, Maggie looked very serene at the moment.

  When she glanced up, her facial features turned sour. “Damn, I just dropped a stitch. What are you doing here?”

  Hawkman stepped inside. “A couple of things. First, George told me to tell you he'd be here shortly.”

  “You didn't have to come up here to tell me. I just talked to him on the phone. Our life was quiet and calm until you entered the picture. Now everything is turned upside down.”

  “Really? I don't understand your statement. George hired me, I didn't go to him.”

  She threw her knitting in the basket. “Okay, what's the other thing?”

  “Detective Williams asked me to talk to you about your behavior. He said you were giving his officers trouble.”

  “Oh, my, what a bunch of baloney. I got hungry last night and went to the dining room before it closed, got a bite to eat, then stopped and worked on a jig saw puzzle.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “I didn't want to come back to my apartment and told them so.”

  “Don't you think a little cooperation with the police might help? They won't be here long and want to keep everyone safe. You make it hard when they can't keep track of your whereabouts.”

  “Why do they care about an old crippled woman using a walker? Do they think I'm a killer?”

  “They don't know.”

  She pointed a finger. “You tell them.”

  “I don't know either, Maggie.”

  Her mouth dropped open, then she frowned. “What do you mean, you don't know?”

  About that time, George entered the room, glanced at the two, tossed the sack he carried in his hand onto the coffee table, then flopped down on the couch, leaning his cane against the arm. “I can tell by the looks on both your faces, things are not peaches and cream.”

  “Your dear private investigator just called me a murderer.”

  George straightened and threw a disarming look at Hawkman. “Why?”

  Hawkman scowled. “I told her, I didn't know if she was one.”

  “What the hell brought this on?”

  He quickly related their conversation. “Maggie is determined to cause problems. If she continues in this vein, it wouldn't surprise me if Detective Williams didn't haul her down to the jailhouse and let her spend a couple of days behind bars.”

  “He wouldn't do that,” Maggie said with disgust.

  “If you're hindering an investigation, he certainly could. I'm just warning you.” He glanced at George. “It's up to you to keep her under control. I'm just passing along the message.”

  Hawkman put his hand on the door knob. “I won't be bothering you anymore, so please heed my words.”

  He left the apartment and went in search of the detective and found him in the makeshift headquarters reading through a stack of papers.

  Williams glanced up. “Pull up a chair. Did you talk any sense into the Hampton woman?”

  “All I can say, is I tried. I told her you might take her to jail for a day or two if she didn't straighten up.”

  The detective smirked. “I doubt she believed you, but let's hope she thinks about it.” Williams then pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack, and handed it to Hawkman. “Thought you might be interested in this last report from the lab on Mrs. Owens’ tests.”

  After reading it, he frowned. “This sounds like the woman committed suicide.”

  “I'm not buying it. I spoke with Mrs. Owens’ doctor this morning and he has no record of prescribing Halcion. He said she never complained about having trouble sleeping. I also spoke with her daughter. She swears her mother never had suicidal tendencies, was a happy person, loved Morning Glory Haven and was excited about her upcoming visit to their new home. Owens’ friends have said much the same thing.”

  “Then it sounds like someone drugged her, but how?”

  “This stuff dissolves in alcohol, and Ms. Owens liked her toddy at night. They found residue of Halcion in her glass.”

  Hawkman rubbed his chin. “Sounds like someone stopped by for a drink.”

  Williams pointed his pencil. “She didn't have a roommate, so it could have been anyone. Since she let them inside, she obviously knew the person.”

  Hawkman leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “It means all her friends are under suspicion.”

  Williams nodded.

  Scratching his head, Hawkman made a face. “Did any of the residents see anyone coming or going from her room that evening?”

  “No one.”

  The detective leaned back in his chair. “Tell me again why Mrs. Hampton keeps extra insulin in her room?”

  Hawkman explained about George and his neglect of his own health. “Why are you interested in them?”

  “What do you know about George personally, besides his health history? Do you know what kind of business he had before he retired?”

  “Now that you've asked,” Hawkman shrugged. “No, I don't know, other than he must have done quite well.”

  “I did a little checking. He had a machine shop, and on the side, he worked as a locksmith. A very skilled one from what I understand. The man could get into these apartments with little effort.”

  Hawkman reared back in his seat. “You're not suggesting George is a killer?”

  “His wife played a major role in their business. She knew how to run the machines and make keys. She even went with him when a home had several locks to change. Her skills were as good as his.”

  “Why would they hire me to investigate?”

  “They also fired you. Probably because you were keeping too close an eye on the misses. I'd say it's a clever scheme. The ploy kept the heat off them, until they thought you were getting too near the truth.”

  “That's really hard for me to buy,” Hawkman said, shaking his head.

  “Maybe, but give it some thought. It's hard for me to
believe a successful businessman can't keep track of his insulin.”

  “What's their motive?”

  “Who knows. There have been stranger cases.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Hawkman left the detective's makeshift office and wandered into the big recreation room. Williams had planted a devastating seed into his head. It made sense, but he didn't like it. He thought about returning to Maggie's apartment, gave it a second thought, and decided it wasn't the right time to approach the Hamptons about this problem. The police would converge on them soon enough, and he knew Maggie wouldn't stand for it. All hell would probably break loose in the next few days. The whole scenario worried him.

  He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and chewed on it. A cigarette would taste mighty good right now. He leaned against the wall and observed what the people were doing. Several were playing card games, some men were concentrating on their checkers, and a few others were relaxing with an open book on the comfortable chairs in the library area. Everything looked so peaceful. No one seemed uptight about what was going on.

  Out of the corner of his eye, a movement caught his attention. He turned his head and recognized the Marketing Director, Carmen Sanders, coming down the hallway with a sweater draped over her arm. Hawkman pushed away from the wall and touched his hat. “Hello, Ms. Sanders, you seem in a hurry.”

  “One of our ladies always forgets to take her sweater when she goes to the dining room, and asked me to get it.”

  “Do they give you their key to do these chores?” he asked.

  “Sometimes, otherwise, I use my master key. Excuse me, I need to deliver this to her before she has one of the waitresses call me.” She turned abruptly, and headed toward the dining area.

  Hawkman watched as she disappeared around the corner and wondered how many master keys floated around the place. It could put a few more people under scrutiny. He decided to talk to Williams about such a possibility.

  He poked his head into the room, only to find a couple of officers conferring in a serious tone with the detective. Figuring this wasn't an appropriate time to disturb him, he backed out of the room and decided to try Mr. Mackle's office.