Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “Good Lord, you scared me to death. I certainly didn't expect to see you here tonight.” She gestured toward the other woman. “This is my mother, May Montgomery. Mom this is Tom Casey, the private investigator I've told you about.”

  He touched the brim of his hat. “My pleasure, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “Call me May,” she said, extending her hand.

  Hawkman looked at Lisa. “Do you take this shift often?”

  “Occasionally, I'll let Don or Carmen off. Mom joins me and we visit with the residents on a relaxed basis.”

  “Seems like a nice gesture.”

  “Mom has talked several of her colleagues into living here, so we feel it's the right thing to do.” She put a hand on her hip. “By the way, what are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Investigating a murder.”

  Lisa gave her mother a gentle push toward the door. “It's getting late. We've got to get home.”

  Just as Hawkman bid them goodnight and turned to pick up the newspaper from the couch, a shadowy figure left through the door leading into the garden between the two buildings. He raced forward, but it clicked shut before he had a chance to get sight of the person. As he looked through the glass, he noted the walkway between the buildings was shrouded in darkness. The only thing he could see from the faint light coming from the assisted living structure was the slowly closing door.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Early the next morning, Hawkman received a frantic phone call from Maggie. He jumped out of bed, grabbed some clothes from the closet, and dressed.

  Jennifer rolled over and watched him as he sat on the edge of the bed yanking on his boots. “Uh, oh. What's happened?”

  “Another person has died at Morning Glory Haven.”

  “Natural or otherwise?”

  “Don't know yet. I'll call you.'

  He hurried out the door and jumped into the 4X4. Driving to Medford as fast as allowed, he arrived at the home. Several police cars were parked in front, along with the coroner's wagon. Hawkman hoofed it inside and found an officer who told him the action was on the second floor. Taking the stairs, Hawkman found the apartment, glanced inside and saw Detective Williams.

  Hawkman stayed in the hallway and watched as they hoisted the covered body onto the gurney. The lab men immediately went to work on searching for evidence. Williams finally stepped into the corridor.

  “What's the verdict?” Hawkman asked.

  “Not sure yet, but appears suspicious. We won't know anything until they do an autopsy.”

  “Do you think there's been foul play?”

  He pointed toward a man standing with a clipboard in his hand. “He's her doctor and last week he gave her a thorough checkup. Everything looked fine.”

  “Was she a diabetic?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you get through here, I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay, I'll meet you downstairs in about fifteen minutes.”

  Hawkman left the area and took the stairs down to the first floor. He strolled toward the office area and noted the doors were all locked. Mackle might return a day early with this occurrence. As he headed toward the recreation room, Perry Foster charged through the entry. His suit looked like he'd slept in it, and his expression was harried.

  When he saw Hawkman, he stopped in his tracks. “Dear Lord, I can't believe this has happened again.”

  “It could be a natural death.”

  “Not with Hazel. She's been in the prime of health as long as she's been here, full of energy and has regular medical examinations.”

  “Have you contacted Mr. Mackle?”

  “Yes, he's coming home when he can get a flight. He's worried sick.”

  “Where's the rest of the staff?”

  “I haven't had time to contact them. I'll do that shortly. We're going to need all hands aboard today and tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed we don't lose any of our tenants.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I better get up to Hazel's apartment. I'm sure the police are crawling all over the place.”

  Hawkman nodded. “I doubt they'll let you inside.”

  “I need to talk to the man in charge.” Foster took off in a dash toward the elevator and disappeared behind the sliding doors.

  Hawkman strolled outside into the garden area. A tall wrought iron fence enclosed the area, with an opened gate leading to the next building. The shadowy figure he saw leaving last night could have been an employee from the assisted living facility.

  He walked back into the living room area and spotted Detective Williams and Perry Foster standing in the corridor conversing. Hawkman waited for the two men to finish. When Foster veered off toward his office, he stepped forward. “Where do you want to talk?”

  “Let's head for the room I used before. I doubt anything will be going on at this early hour.”

  The residents had started meandering toward the dining room, speaking in whispers and pointing at Hawkman and Williams.

  “News must travel mighty fast here,” the detective said, as he nodded at the people. “Let's get the hell out of their way. I don't need any questions right now.”

  They quickly exited out of the hallway and into the bingo room. Sitting down at one of the tables, Williams placed his clipboard on the surface, rubbed his chin with his hand, and exhaled.

  “How's the sting operation going?”

  “Better than expected. Now, I need to focus on this case. I hope you've uncovered something, I definitely need help.”

  “First tell me, who reported this woman's death?”

  “One of the other residents. She said they always go to an early breakfast on Saturday mornings, then go shopping at the mall. When she couldn't rouse her by knocking on the door this morning, she got worried. No one answered the call at the desk, so she went into her own apartment and pushed the emergency button, which brought the paramedics. We were immediately called, due to the pending case. The rest is obvious.”

  “Did she notice anyone lingering around her friend's room?”

  “No. Now, what were you going to tell me?”

  “I hung around here last night until this place closed up and a couple of things happened that might be worth looking into.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’ heard a rumor that Carmen Sanders might have murdered her mother. I'd like to see if there's a record of any charges filed against her.

  Williams frowned. “How long ago?”

  “Three or so years.”

  “Off the top of my head, I don't recall any. Must not have amounted to anything. Remind me to check next week.”

  Hawkman nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, Lisa Montgomery and her mother, May, were here last night until after ten. I chatted with them for a few minutes on their way out, and they told me they were visiting friends her mom had encouraged to live here. Lisa gave her mother the rush act, so I didn't get any information about the resident's name. They'd no more than left when someone slipped through the door heading out to the garden. I heard the click of the lock and tried to get to the entry in time to see who it was, but the only thing I caught was a shadowy figure entering the other building. I didn't follow because once these doors are hatched down, you can go out, but you can't get back in, unless you have the password. Supposedly, only the top employers have it. So whoever left here, and went into the other building, knew it.”

  Williams leaned back in his chair with a solemn expression. “Sounds like the staff might be involved.”

  “Someone could have stolen or leaked the code.”

  “Wonder if they change it often?”

  “I can ask Perry Foster. He'll know.”

  “Let's go check.”

  As they headed for the man's office, several of the employees came in and went to their stations. Some appeared nervous, while others acted as if nothing had happened.

  The manager's door st
ood open, so Hawkman stepped inside. Perry had the phone pressed to his ear. When he glanced up, he waved for the two men to come inside and motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk.

  Soon he hung up and stared at the two men. “Is there any news?”

  “Not yet,” Williams said. “We won't know the cause of death for a few days.”

  Perry ran his hands over his face. “This isn't good.”

  “We need to know how often the codes are changed for the outside doors?”

  “Once a month.”

  “What type of code is it?” the detective asked.

  Perry produced a small piece of plastic that looked like a credit card. “I have a machine that will put on a new code. The staff members turn them in on the first of the month, then I redo each one and give them back.”

  “Is there any way someone could get hold of the machine, other than you?” Hawkman asked.

  “No, I keep it in the safe. Mr. Mackle and I are the only ones authorized to use it.”

  “What about the people who work in the other sections?”

  “I take care of the whole facility. It's their responsibility to get them to me before the code is changed on the doors. I check off each person, and notify the ones I haven't seen.

  “How do you remind them?”

  “Through e-mail.”

  Hawkman leaned forward. “Mr. Foster, I want an honest answer. What is your opinion of Lisa Montgomery?”

  “Uh.” Perry appeared lost for words for a moment. ‘She's a good worker.”

  “I didn't ask how she worked. Do you trust her?”

  “You really put me on a spot.”

  “This doesn't go any farther than the detective and me.”

  He looked toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, snapped them open, then looked Hawkman straight in the face. “No.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  * * * *

  Hawkman and Detective Williams strolled down the hallway toward the bingo room.

  “You didn't seem very shocked over Foster's answer about not trusting Ms. Montgomery,” Williams said.

  “No, because after talking with other people, I've found her personality is not pleasing to several. Whether she's capable of murder is another question.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “If Carmen Sanders is telling the truth, Montgomery is blackmailing her in a very devious manner. Part of it involves the death of Sanders’ mother.”

  “Anything we can get a handle on?”

  Hawkman shook his head. “No.”

  “Now I can see why you wanted to check on any charges filed against the Sanders woman.” The detective suddenly stopped and removed his cell phone from his belt. “Excuse me, I've got a call.”

  Hawkman stepped out of hearing distance and spotted Lisa Montgomery scurrying toward Perry Foster's office. When Williams hung up, he exhaled loudly. “I'm leaving you to interview some of these people. I've got to get back to the station. I thought this sting had wound down, but my boys have found another place. So we're hitting it tonight. I hope I can be back on this case by Monday. Do you want me to leave a man with you?”

  “No. You'll need all your men for a dangerous operation. I can handle this and report to you if I need help.”

  “Make a citizen's arrest if you have to.”

  “Will do.”

  The detective rounded up the officers he'd brought, and they left the premises. When Lisa came out of Foster's office and went into her own, Hawkman crossed the hallway, opened her door and stepped inside.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I see you've quit bothering to knock.”

  Deciding not to sit down, he looked into her face. “Under the circumstances, you're right. Did you know the woman who passed away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she one of the people your mother encouraged to move into Morning Glory Haven?”

  “No.”

  “Did you visit this woman last night?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see anyone enter or leave her room?”

  “No, but we weren't near her apartment. She lived on the opposite end of where mother and I were.”

  “Why do you dislike Ms. Sanders so much?”

  She frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You've threatened her. Why?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Then why did you leave the note in her mailbox not to talk to me? What are you afraid she might say?”

  “You're crazy, or she is, if she told you such a story.”

  “No, Ms. Montgomery, I happened to follow you the day you were going to get those files you'd conveniently left at your place. You stopped at Ms. Sanders house and left the note. I read it before Carmen did.”

  Lisa's face turned pale. “I never saw you.”

  “I'm trained in surveillance. Now, why don't you level with me on the problem between you and your coworker?”

  She glared at him. “Mr. Casey, our personal problems have nothing to do with your investigation. I don't think I have to answer such a question.”

  “I'm afraid you do. Anything involving Morning Glory Haven is a concern to the police and this investigation. Since you don't want to cooperate, I'd advise you to get a lawyer.”

  She jumped up from her chair. “What are you telling me? Am I a suspect?”

  “Afraid so, Ms. Montgomery. Not only for Gladys Owens’ death, but if the woman who died this morning didn't succumb from natural causes, you can add her to the list.”

  “Mr. Casey, I'm not responsible for anyone's dying in this place. For God's sake, I work here. I definitely don't want to go to prison.”

  “Then you better get your act together before Monday. Detective Williams will want to talk to you.”

  He turned and left her standing with fear in her eyes. When he stepped into the hallway, he met Carmen Sanders at her office door. She looked up at him with tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Mr. Casey, Hazel was the dearest friend I had in this home. I loved her like my own mother. I'd go by and visit her every evening after work. Last night Don had the duty. I so wish I'd been here.” Her voice cracked as she wiped away the tears from her face. She sucked in a breath. “I couldn't believe it when Mr. Foster called this morning. Everyone loved Hazel.” She glanced up with a pleading expression. “How did she die?”

  “We won't know for a few days.”

  “She seemed in such excellent health for her age.”

  “Why don't you go on into your office and pull yourself together. I'm sure Mr. Foster is going to need you to work with the residents. The word has already spread and the police have come and gone. So the people are going to be edgy. They'll need you.”

  She nodded, unlocked her office and went inside.

  He meandered down the corridor and Don Jackson came hurrying into the building from the door leading into the garden. “Hi, Mr. Casey. Is Mr. Foster in his office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Man, I can't believe what's going on here. It gives me the willies.”

  “Why do you say that? A woman died. Don't you expect death in an old people's home?”

  “Well, yeah, but Mr. Foster said the police were swarming the place and he wanted us all here early to help ease the residents’ nerves.”

  “True, but it's mostly because of the questionable death of Gladys Owens. This woman could have died of natural causes. Did you know Hazel?”

  “Yes, a very personable person. I'd chat with her in the dining room, if she sat alone.” His gaze darted toward the office area. “I better get my butt in there and find out what my boss wants me to do.”

  “By the way, what time did you leave the building last night?”

  “I received a call from Ms. Montgomery about eight o'clock. She told me I could leave because she was coming in with May to visit some friends and they'd stay through my shift.”

  “
She do this often?”

  “No, but it's great when she does.”

  “How do you work these long shifts?”

  “They're really just an eight hour day. We come in at one, unless we've made an appointment to show someone around, or need to catch up on some work in the office. We usually like to show people around the home at eleven-thirty because we take them to lunch in the dining room. If the visit spills over into our normal schedule that's okay. We have the six o'clock dinner break and usually eat here because we can get our meals free. Then we leave around ten or a little earlier if things are quiet.”

  “That schedule sounds good to me.”

  Don smiled. “I like it.” He moved away from Hawkman. “I better go check with Mr. Foster.”

  “I'll talk with you later.”

  He sure didn't seem bothered about the woman's death, Hawkman thought, as he walked toward the elevator. When he passed the recreation room, the tension tingled his bones. People stared at him, as if he should have prevented Hazel's demise. He rode up to the second floor and headed for Maggie's apartment.

  George let him in and leaned on his cane as he stared at the floor. “This is horrible. Another death.”

  Maggie pointed a finger at Hawkman and screeched. “You can't let it happen again. This has got to stop. George is going to take me out of here if you don't find the killer.”

  Hawkman put up his hands in defense. “We don't even know if foul play is involved. Once they do the autopsy, we'll know something from the preliminary report; but until then, we've got to look at her death as caused by natural means.”

  She slammed her small fist into the cushions of the couch. “You know she didn't die naturally. Hazel was in excellent health.”

  Hawkman walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “Be calm, Maggie. We should know something by Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, I'm on patrol.”

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  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE