“Is it true you were married at one time?”
“Years ago, but I had it annulled. I was too young and had just graduated high school.”
Hawkman slid the papers back into the case and rose. “I'm sorry to have kept you so long. I'd like to talk with you again.”
She nodded.
He strolled down the corridor slightly behind Carmen until she stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. Curious about where the truth lay, he glanced back at the offices and wondered if he should approach Mr. Mackle. He probably hired her so she wouldn't have to live on the streets after her mother died. Something didn't smell right, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.
His mind spun with different ideas, and he decided to see if Maggie and George would still talk to him. They might be able to clear up a few things. He stepped into the elevator and rode up to the second floor. The noise of the television sounded through the door as he knocked.
“Come in,” George called.
Cautiously, Hawkman stuck his head inside. “Can I talk to you two for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on in,” George said. “We don't hold no grudges.”
Hawkman smiled. “Good, because I need your help.”
Immediately, Maggie put her knitting into a small bag on the floor, then waved her hand at her husband. “George, turn off the television. Mr. Casey needs our attention.”
Hawkman sat down on the overstuffed chair, placed his briefcase on the floor, put his elbows on his thighs and folded his hands. “Tell me anything you know about Carmen Sanders.”
George shrugged. “I know who she is, but seldom talk to her.”
The two men turned their gazes toward Maggie.
“Ms. Sanders is a very kind and caring young woman. There are times after her shift she stops by and has a toddy with the residents.”
“In their rooms or at the bar?” Hawkman asked.
“Both. She's come by here and chatted with me on occasions, brought her own glass and liqueur.” She screwed up her mouth and made a funny face. “I don't like sweetened booze, but that's okay. I have my own bottle and make my own drink. We'll chat for several minutes before she takes her leave to go down the hallway to the next place. She's very cheerful and sometimes very comical. Her jokes are very amusing.”
“The few times I've spoken with her, she seems very reserved, not outgoing at all,” Hawkman said.
Maggie threw up her hands. “No wonder. You're a private investigator and probably grilled her with questions the whole time you conversed.”
He nodded. “You've got a point.”
“She's a fine person and appears to love her job. Very thoughtful, always asking if we need anything and if there are any problems.”
“What do you know about Lisa Montgomery?”
Maggie tapped her chin. “Not much. Only talked with her a couple of times. Once when I registered to live here and another time when there was an emergency down the hall. She's part of the top brass and works most of the time in her office doing book work.”
“What kind of guy is Don Jackson?”
“Now, that's a fine young chap,” George piped in. “He tends to mingle with people in the recreation and dining room. Always a smile on his face and very friendly.”
“George is right. Don tends to meet with people in groups. He doesn't make the rounds to the apartments.” She pointed at George. “That's why he knows him better than Carmen.”
“Does Ms. Sanders always come by after George has left?” Hawkman asked.
“Yes, it's usually after her shift, between nine-thirty and ten or after. She knocks and asks if I'm off to bed or would like to visit.” Maggie laughed. “I'm always up to talking.” She leaned forward and wiggled a finger. “I have a feeling she's very lonely and we here at the home are her only social life.”
“What makes you think that?”
“One night she told me about her mother. They lived together and after she passed away, she had no one. She even made the comment about how lonely she felt walking into an empty house.”
“Did she tell you how her mother died?”
“Stroke, but even though she lived a while afterwards, her diabetes made it very difficult for her to completely recover. She had tears in her eyes telling me how she watched her mother take that last breath.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hawkman left Maggie's apartment, confused about the conflicting information he'd received on Carmen Sanders and Lisa Montgomery. He needed to dig deeper.
Stepping out of the elevator, he stopped at the receptionist's desk.
“Is Mr. Mackle in?”
“No, he's gone to a conference and won't return until Monday.”
“Who's in charge?”
“Mr. Foster.”
“Thanks,” he said, moving down the corridor.
Lisa Montgomery started to step out of her office, but stopped abruptly when she saw Hawkman, and immediately, went back inside, closing the door behind her. He wondered if she'd found out he'd talked with Carmen Sanders.
Hawkman continued down the hallway and knocked on Foster's door. Perry's distinct voice instructed him to come in.
“Hello, again,” Perry said, glancing up. “Take a seat. I finally got Carmen Sanders’ file.” He handed it to Hawkman. “I just copied the whole thing because there isn't much there.”
“Thanks. Could I take another look at Lisa Montgomery's folder?”
“Sure.”
Foster went to the last drawer of the cabinet and removed it. “Here you go,” he said.
“Who else has access to your office besides you?”
“Ms. Montgomery and Mr. Mackle are free to come in and check the files.
“Do you lock your office when you leave?”
“Only in the evening, when I go home, but during the day it's usually open. I don't have anything in here I'd really worry about, except the files. Why do you ask?”
“I'm a private investigator and ask crazy questions.
Perry chuckled. “Makes sense.”
Hawkman glanced through Lisa Montgomery's file and found it intact. “I'd also like to see the one on Don Jackson again.” Perry brought it forth and Hawkman thumbed through it. Satisfied he'd gotten everything of importance, he returned it to him. “Thank you. I hope I won't have to bug you again.”
“No problem. Glad Ms. Montgomery found the Sanders’ file.”
“Me, too.” He slid it into his briefcase and stood. “Oh, I wanted to verify something. I understand the outside doors are locked at ten at night. For a person to get in, he needs someone from the inside to admit him. Is that right?”
“Yes, a resident has to let you in. The employees all have passes.”
“I think the system makes for good security. There isn't much this facility hasn't done to increase its attractiveness.”
“Thank you. We're very proud of it.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“You're welcome. By the way, may I ask a personal question?”
“Sure.”
He pointed at Hawkman's chest. “Do you always carry a weapon?”
“Yes, how'd you know?”
Foster smiled. “My brother's in the secret service and I've noticed the familiar bulge in your jacket each time I've seen you.”
“You're very observant. Most people wouldn't notice. Don't worry, it won't be drawn unless absolutely necessary.”
He left, glanced at Lisa Montgomery's door as he passed, then decided to go up to the Hamptons and ask one more question before going to his office. He knocked and Maggie answered.
“Sorry to bother you, but need to talk to you about one more thing.”
“Come on in,” she said, leaving the door open.” Not using her walker, she wobbled over to the couch, turned her magazine over, then flopped down.
“Where's George?” he asked, sitting on the overstuffed chair.
“He needed to run to town before the hardware store closed, to pick up a faucet for the kitchen sink at home. The plumber told George if he'd get the supplies, he'd only charge him half.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
“What'd you need?”
“How late do you stay up?”
“Usually until about eleven, sometimes midnight. Why?”
“Since they lock the place up at ten, if I needed to come and spy on someone, could you come down and let me in?”
“Of course, just call me. If I don't answer, leave a message. Sometimes I roam the halls late, but am usually back in my room within fifteen minutes. It makes me sleep better, even with a sleeping pill, to walk around before bedtime.” She grinned. “Also, they leave pastries out on one of the serving tables in the dining room, in case people get hungry.”
“Very tempting. When you're out there, do you ever see others coming and going from their apartments?”
“Yes, but we all look like shadows in the night, because they dim the lights in the corridors about the same time they close the doors.” She laughed. “We look like a group of ghosts floating around in a spooky hallway.”
Hawkman rose, and took his valise. “You look all dressed up and ready for dinner, so I'll get out of here.”
“We'll go when George returns. Shopping makes him so hungry.”
He opened the door and touched his hat. “Thanks for your time, Maggie. I'll probably see you tomorrow.”
Wanting to get back to his office so he could go through Carmen Sander's folder, he hurried to the elevator and out the front door. He parked in the alley behind his office and jogged up the stairs. Placing the briefcase on the desk, he opened the window a crack, as the room smelled musty. He booted up the computer, then put on the coffee pot. Hanging his hat on the nail, he ran his hand through his hair and sat down in the swivel chair. He opened the valise and pulled out the copied files.
As he studied the papers, it appeared Ms. Sanders had told the truth. She was the niece of Mr. Mackle and he had hired her on his own. He made the statement in a letter to Perry Foster: he'd give Carmen six months to prove herself. If she didn't work out, they'd find someone else. Hawkman didn't find any application form.
He turned to the computer, clicked into the secure search area, and typed in his password. When the form came up, he decided to look up Don Jackson. Another common handle and he had to eliminate several before finding the right one. He raised his brows as he read the information.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Hawkman printed out the information he'd found on Don Jackson. He sat back and thumped his pencil on the desk. Mr. Mackle must have a big heart. Some of the people's reputations are questionable. However, they'd all been employed there for three or more years, obviously doing good work. He saw no complaints recorded in their files. Picking up one of the sheets on Carmen Sanders, he noted Mackle had put her date of birth on the recommendation to hire her. The woman was thirty-one years old.
The note left on Carmen's door by Ms. Montgomery still baffled him. Why would she leave such a warning? He'd have a talk with both these women and discover what they thought about each other. Could turn out very interesting, if they told the truth.
He decided to wrap it up for the day, but first jotted down Ms. Montgomery's address from the information in her folder. Seeing where a person lives sometimes exposes a bit about their character. He'd drive by her place on the way home. He packed the files into his briefcase, unplugged the coffee pot, turned out the lights and left. A cool breeze smacked him in the face as he jogged down the stairs, which made him shiver. Unlocking his vehicle, he quickly climbed inside. “Winter is upon us,” he mumbled, slamming the door.
Familiar with the area where Lisa lived, he didn't have to enter the street into the GPS. The setting sun's bright rays glanced off his windshield, almost blinding him when he turned westward. Happy to locate the main drag to Ms. Montgomery's home, he turned away from the shafts of light and continued slowly, not exactly sure where her street crisscrossed. He soon spotted it and pulled the piece of paper from his pocket to check the numbers. The neighborhood appeared quiet, the homes neat and tidy. He finally found the address and as he drove by Montgomery's house, the electric garage door slid down over two cars parked in the garage. An older woman came out the front door, walked across the lawn, picked up the newspaper, flipped off the rubber band and shook it on her way back into the house.
He picked up speed as he parted the area and turned onto the ramp for the freeway.
When he arrived home, Jennifer asked him a million questions about what all he'd learned so far. He told her about Carmen Sanders’ file, and Lisa Montgomery's note.
“That's really strange,” she said, her eyes wide. “Sounds like the Montgomery woman might be blackmailing Carmen.”
“I agree, but what about?”
Jennifer shrugged. “Who knows? You're going to have to find out. She's got something on her. Why leave such a note, if she didn't?”
Hawkman lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep didn't want to come and he envied his pretty wife as her breathing had settled into soft whispers at least two hours ago. He knew he had to get up early in the morning, as he wanted to talk with Ms. Montgomery first thing, and hoped he could corner Carmen Sanders before the Friday night plans of a fall festival kicked into play. They'd be too busy to talk to him then. He finally fell asleep and awoke with a jerk as Miss Marple jumped onto his chest and knocked his chin with her head.
“What the heck do you want, you little pest?”
Jennifer rolled over. “Oh, shoot, I forgot to put any dry food out for her last night. Bet her dish is empty.”
“I'll take care of it. I have to get going anyway. Go back to sleep if you can.”
“Thanks, hon,” she said, as she rolled over onto her side.
Hawkman grabbed his clothes in one hand and carried the kitten, balanced against his chest, with the other. He managed to close the bedroom door, so the cat couldn't sneak back in and disturb Jennifer. Sure enough, Miss Marple's dish stood empty. He quickly filled it, gave her fresh water, then went to the middle bathroom where he showered, shaved, and dressed.
When he got ready to leave the house, he smiled, as Miss Marple had climbed into his chair, her tail flicking back and forth, as she watched the falcon out the window. Pretty Girl gave her quite a show, flapping her wings and walking about on her perch.
“You're dreaming, little one. That bird would make mincemeat out of you,” he chuckled, as he closed the door.
Driving toward Medford, he thought about how he'd approach Ms. Montgomery concerning her dealings with Carmen Sanders. Something appeared fishy, but he doubted he'd find it out much today; still he'd give it a try. He pulled into the parking lot, found a vacant slot, picked up his briefcase, and exited the vehicle. On his way inside, he flipped on the recorder in his pocket. When he reached her office, he found the door ajar and poked his head inside. Lisa sat at her desk, concentrating on an open ledger. When he cleared his throat, she jerked up her head.
“Excuse me, Mr. Casey. I didn't hear you knock.”
“Actually, I didn't, your door was open, so I just came in.”
“What can I do for you?”
He noticed a tone of impatience in her voice. “I'd like to talk to you about Don Jackson and Carmen Sanders.”
She took off her reading glasses, dropped her pencil on the desk, and leaned back in the chair. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you and Mr. Foster interview the clients for jobs?”
“Normally, yes. If Perry and I agree the person's a good pick, we give Mr. Mackle our preferences; then he takes it from there. He reviews their applications, our reports, and makes the final decision.”
“How did Don Jackson qualify?”
“What do you mean?”
“I've done some research and he was fired from his last job for sexual
harassment. Didn't you think having him around here might cause a problem.”
Lisa leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk. “Mr. Casey, he's a good looking man and from what I read of the report, a young woman trumped up a charge against him because she couldn't get his attention. These things happen all the time, and it's a shame for it to have to go on a person's record. He told us all about it when we interviewed him.”
“You believed him?”
“Yes.”
“What if I told you, it wasn't the only time he'd been hit with such a suit.”
She frowned. “There was only the one charge on his record.”
“Time might have protected him.”
“How many are there?”
“Three counting the one you know about.”
“Oh, my.” She sat back and rubbed her forehead. “We've had no problems so far.”
“I'm glad to hear it. He might never mouth off again. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson and doesn't want to lose this job.”
“You've really hit me with baffling news. I guess we should search deeper when we're hiring a person.”
“How long have you known Ms. Sanders?”
“For years. Our mothers were the best of friends. Even though I'm a few years older than Carmen, when our mothers would get together, we'd be forced to put up with each other.”
“That arrangement obviously didn't suit you.”
She shrugged. “I would have preferred being with friends my own age.”
“Did you keep in touch with Carmen as you grew older?”
“No, I quit going over to the Sanders home when I got old enough to stay alone.”
“Did your mother ever mention Carmen?”
“She thought Mrs. Sanders let her get by with murder. When Carmen hit the teenage years, she got into drugs, then got married right out of high school. However, it didn't last long and Carmen had the marriage annulled. She went into rehab; then when her father died she had a nervous breakdown and spent over five years in and out of a psychiatric ward.”
“You seem to know a lot about her.”
“Mother kept me updated when I'd come home from college.”
Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] Page 18
