Cause for Murder

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  When the front door slammed, she jumped. “Mom, is that you?"

  A small, tired looking woman walked around the corner of the room. Her pale blue eyes lit up when she saw Maryann. “Honey, I didn't know you were coming home. What a wonderful surprise.” She gave her daughter a hug. “I noticed the lights on in the house, but just figured I'd forgotten to turn them off in my hurry to get to work."

  "So you're still waitressing at that cafe?"

  Lilly nodded. “There isn't anything else available. Believe me, I've tried. But with Burke giving me less and less as time went by, I had to take what I could get. And now that he's dead, there's nothing coming in and I need to survive."

  Maryann nodded. “Can I fix you something to eat or drink?"

  Her mother glanced around the kitchen. “Oh my, you've cleaned this place until it's gleaming.” Then she waved a hand and shook her head. “I'm not hungry. Had a meal at the restaurant, but I'd love a whiskey and water."

  "Sure. Go sit down and take off your shoes. I'll fix us both one and join you in a minute."

  Lilly snapped her fingers. “Oh, first, let me put my leftovers out on the porch for Frank."

  Maryann shook her head. “Mother, why are you still feeding that old homeless man when you hardly have enough to eat yourself?"

  "Frank walks the streets day and night looking for food. Bless his heart, he needs some nourishment. And he's surprised me several times by doing little odd jobs around here when I've been at work."

  Maryann put a hand on her hip. “Like what?"

  "Last week he raked up a bunch of debris that had gathered under the porch and carport, then put it in the dumpster. But it doesn't matter, the restaurant would have just thrown this good food out anyway.” She took the plastic container out of the bag she'd carried into the kitchen and hurried to the front door. Within a few seconds she came back in and flopped down on the couch.

  Maryann thought about scolding her mother for the risk she might be taking as a woman living alone, but decided tonight wasn't the time. She wanted to find out more about Burke's death and her dad, Maduk.

  * * * *

  The sun had barely set when Sam drove over the bridge, and heard the sound of the Klamath River cascading beneath his truck. The air smelled sweet and pure making him yelp with joy at finally being home. The lights were on inside and he could see Jennifer peeking out the kitchen window as his headlight beams hit the glass. She ran out the door and greeted him before he managed to get out of the truck. He embraced her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then glanced up at a grinning Hawkman standing in the doorway.

  "Glad you arrived safe and sound,” he said, giving Sam a big hug and pat on the back.

  "Oh, man, I've so looked forward to getting here. That danged fire held us up for a couple of hours."

  They unloaded the truck and carried the items to the boy's room.

  "This place looks great,” Sam said, dumping a load of stuff on the bed.

  Hawkman eyed the pile of dirty clothes and grinned. “Yep, there's nothing like coming home."

  After dinner, they settled in the living room.

  "Catch us up on your news,” Jennifer said.

  "What do you want to know?” Sam asked.

  "Do you have plans for the summer, or are you going to hang around here?"

  "I plan on hanging out right here, fishing, riding my bike and relaxing."

  Hawkman chuckled. “Sounds like you plan on being down right lazy."

  Sam laughed. “Well, it's a nice thought. But when I saw the house that Maryann's mom lives in, I offered my services to help get it back in shape. Maybe I'll be doing a bit of hard labor, too."

  Jennifer looked puzzled. “What do you mean?"

  "The Parker place is falling apart. I thought I'd talk to Richard and encourage him to help, at least on the weekends."

  Hawkman leaned forward. “What kind of repairs are you talking about?"

  Sam shrugged. “Oh, painting the outside, fixing gutters that are hanging loose from their brackets. And the porch is sagging, it needs some shoring up or someone's going to get hurt. In fact, the house looks like it's in shambles. Even the lawn is burned to a crisp and taken over by weeds."

  Hawkman raised a brow. “You might have offered more than you can do. Sounds like it could take a hunk of money."

  "I thought I'd talk to some of the merchants I know in town. Maybe they'd be willing to donate some paint and stuff, if I did the labor. Especially, since Mr. Parker just passed away.” Sam sat up straight in the chair and faced Hawkman. “By the way, how'd he die?"

  "We don't know,” Hawkman said. “They found him in a motel room, and the autopsy report isn't out yet."

  "He couldn't have been very old,” Sam said.

  "Did Maryann say anything about her dad?” Jennifer asked.

  "Yeah, more than I really wanted to know."

  "I'm sure she's upset."

  He shook his head. “Maryann isn't the least bit bothered by his death. In fact, I got the impression, she's glad he's gone and so is her mom."

  Jennifer frowned. “That's sad."

  "It's what she told me on the ride home.” Sam scooted to the edge of the seat and rested his arms on his knees. “You want to hear her story?"

  She nodded. “Yes."

  After Sam finished relating Maryann's tale, he threw up his hands. “You can see why it doesn't bother her that Mr. Parker's dead."

  Hawkman rubbed his chin. “Her story sounds plausible, but do you really know how much is valid?"

  Sam grimaced. “I never gave it much thought. I guess because all the evidence points to the truth. Look at Maryann's skin tone and hair. Obviously, Burke realized she wasn't his daughter."

  "How much do you know about the girl?” Hawkman asked.

  "Not much really. I dated her a couple of times in high school and she pesters me at college, but she turns me cold. My thoughts went toward her mother living in that rundown house. Guess I felt sorry for her since she doesn't have a man around to do the repairs any more."

  Jennifer remained silent for several minutes before speaking. “Do you think Maryann's lying?"

  Sam shrugged. “Not sure now. Her story sounded very convincing at the moment. But I don't trust her."

  Jennifer frowned. “Why not?"

  He scratched his head. “It started back in high school and continued into college. She's fickle. Not so much toward me, but with my buddies."

  "How's that?"

  "Remember when I asked her to the Senior Prom?"

  "Yes."

  "I didn't realize at the time, Jim had already asked her and she'd accepted. When I called, she agreed to go with me, then called Jim and broke their date."

  Sam shook his head. “I felt really bad for the way she'd treated my buddy and never dated her again."

  Hawkman waved a hand in the air. “Women do that all the time."

  Jennifer shot him a look. “No respectable female does that to a man.” She turned to Sam. “Go on."

  "I found out later she'd done this to several of my friends. Eventually no one asked her out, afraid at the last minute she'd turn him down if she got a better offer. She obviously didn't learn from the experience, because at college she developed the same reputation. Even the girls stay out of her way as she's tried to steal their boyfriends. She's just a real bitch when it comes to dealing with people."

  "Is she still pretty?” Jennifer asked. “I haven't seen her in several years."

  Sam rolled his eyes. “She's one beautiful babe, I kid you not. The guys go nuts when she walks past them going to class."

  Hawkman went into the kitchen to get a beer. “My gut tells me she might be trouble, so beware."

  "Don't worry, I've got her pegged.” At that moment, his cell phone beeped, and he grabbed it from his pocket. “All right! Got a message from Richard."

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next morning, Hawkman knew Sam would be up early to ready his bike for the impending ride wit
h Richard. He meandered outside, picked up the hose and pretended to focus on watering the flower beds near the garage. Sam stepped out the front door and headed for the tool bench where he had his bike implements stored. Once he had everything laid out in front of him, he pulled the cover off the motorcycle.

  "Oh my gosh!” He dropped the tarp and dashed out of the garage. His gaze darted from Jennifer standing on the porch to Hawkman off to his left, both were grinning.

  "Th..That's a brand new bike,” Sam stuttered, pointing toward the shiny machine.

  "Like it?” Jennifer asked.

  "Oh, man, it's a beauty. But, what'd you do with my old one? It still worked great and had plenty of riding miles left."

  Hawkman raised a finger in the air. “Sold to Uncle Joe. Richard's old bike finally conked out. So now you two can ride the hills without worry of mechanical problems."

  "Oh man, what a surprise. How can I ever thank you?"

  Hawkman strolled over and patted the boy on the shoulder. “Just work hard and keep up those grades like you're doing."

  "No problem,” Sam said, smiling from ear to ear.

  He went back into the garage, donned his helmet and pushed the Honda XR400R onto the driveway. “I'm not due at Richard's for a couple of hours. Think I'll take a ride and get used to handling this machine."

  "Good idea,” Hawkman said. “I took it for a couple of spins. The baby really hums. Keep in mind that's a powerful piece of equipment."

  Sam gave a wave and took off down the driveway, then turned left onto the asphalt road. Jennifer ambled down the gravel pathway and joined Hawkman. She put her arm around his waist as they watched the boy cycle toward the old dumping area.

  "He's a good kid,” Hawkman said, as they strolled toward the house.

  "I hope he has a fun summer. You realize this will probably be his last long visit at home?” She blinked her eyes against the well of tears. “This time next year he'll be out in the world making it on his own."

  Hawkman gave her a comforting hug. “You can't keep a boy like Sam away from this paradise for long. He loves to fish and hunt too much."

  In an hour, Sam rode into the driveway. Hawkman grinned as he watched his son through the kitchen window rub at a spot on the polished metal with his shirt sleeve.

  "That's one neat dirt bike,” Sam said, entering the house, a smile gleaming across his face. “Smooth as silk and goes up a hill in nothing flat. I can hardly wait to show Richard."

  "Glad it meets your approval,” Hawkman said.

  Sam opened the refrigerator. “Jennifer, you got any sandwich makings? I want to take a lunch so we don't get hungry."

  She joined him in the kitchen and removed several different types of lunch meat from the meat drawer. Soon, Sam took off for Richard's place with a backpack full of food and drinks.

  Hawkman slapped on his leather hat. “Hon, I'm going into town. Talked with Detective Williams a few minutes ago and he'll be in his office this afternoon."

  "Doesn't that man ever take off on Sundays?” she asked.

  "Very seldom."

  * * * *

  Hawkman parked in one of the visitor's slots at the police station. The place appeared pretty deserted when he entered the lobby. He waved at the officer attending the main desk and proceeded down the hall toward Williams’ office.

  He poked his head around the door jamb. The detective sat at his desk, deeply engrossed in reading a report. Hawkman tapped lightly on the inside of the wooden frame.

  Williams glanced up and waved him in. “Good to see you. It gets a bit boring around here on Sunday. Of course, you'll probably put an end to the serenity, as I'm sure you're not here on a social call."

  Hawkman laughed. “This visit is mostly out of curiosity."

  The detective rolled his eyes. “That can spell all kinds of trouble. So, what are you questioning today?"

  Hawkman removed the clipped article about Burke Parker from his pocket and handed it to the detective. Wondered if you knew anything about this man's death?"

  Williams scanned the article. “You know him?"

  "Not personally. Sam's a friend of his daughter, Maryann. They went to high school together and now attend the same college. She rode home with him yesterday and related some pretty weird stories about her family."

  Williams stood, stretched his arms, then went to the coffee urn. “Want a cup?"

  "Sounds good."

  "Yeah, Yreka asked us to help investigate Parker's death. They're a small town and understaffed. The one detective they had in their department moved on to the big city.” Williams handed Hawkman a mug of the steaming brew, then sat down at his desk. “We asked the paper to keep the story under wraps until we notified the family. Turns out they must have shoved it aside and didn't figure it any big deal, because the the news didn't come out for almost a week."

  "Are you saying the death isn't recent?"

  Williams nodded. “Our coroner did the autopsy, but everyone's behind schedule. He's overworked due to his assistant leaving and he's gotten several corpses behind.” The detective scowled. “I hope he finds some help soon. It's hard to keep people in these small towns.” He raised a hand. “Anyway, I just got the autopsy report last night and it states Parker had been dead several days before they found the body."

  Hawkman took a sip from the mug. “Can I see the report?"

  "Sure.” He pulled a file from under some papers and handed it to him.

  After Hawkman thumbed through the photographs of the body, he glanced at Williams. “It definitely appears the man had been dead for some time."

  "The coroner figured from four to six days."

  "How'd that get by the motel owners?"

  Williams shook his head. “Real shabby place. No attendant is ever on duty. The place is full of derelicts and it stinks to high heaven. Doubt anyone even noticed the smell."

  Hawkman continued to read and wrinkled his forehead. “It says he died of an alcohol related disease along with a mixture of drugs. But it doesn't explain what kind. The coroner just notes scoring of the mouth, tongue and esophagus."

  "Some stuff had to be sent out for testing. You'll notice on the bottom it states, ‘incomplete report'. Sometimes it takes weeks to get back the full results."

  "Do you suspect he died naturally, accidentally or foul play?"

  Williams shrugged. “Right now it's hard to say. There were no traces of anyone occupying the room except Parker. No signs of a struggle. It seems the man just collapsed."

  "Were you the one who notified his wife, Lilly?"

  The detective leaned back in his chair and scowled. “Yeah, weird lady."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "She acted strange. I couldn't really tell if she was distraught or angry.” Williams waved a hand in the air. “I shouldn't make that kind of judgment. People react differently when they receive personal death news. But when I asked if I could call a relative to be with her, she said it wouldn't be necessary, she'd handle it. That's the last I've seen or heard from her. We've received no calls asking about when she could have the body picked up. Seems sort of odd. You'd think she'd want to make some sort of arrangements."

  Hawkman nodded. “Fits the picture."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Sam arrived at the Clifford place, he noticed how neat and clean the whole area looked. Quite a difference from Maryann's house. He spotted Richard pushing his old bike, sparkling like new, out of the large open door of the freshly painted barn. Midnight, the black dog Richard had rescued from the hermit's place, trotted happily after him.

  Sam rode up alongside Richard, hopped off his cycle, removed his helmet and lightly cuffed his friend on the shoulder. “Good to see you."

  Richard grinned. “I thought you'd never get home."

  Uncle Joe stepped out the back door of the house, hat in hand and waved. “Hey, Sam. How's it going?"

  "Real good, Mr. Clifford. Good to see you."

  "I'm going into town to get some groce
ries. You guys have a good ride."

  "Thanks."

  Richard screwed up his mouth and looked at Sam. “What'd he say? He turned his face away before I could tell."

  "He's going in for groceries."

  "I knew that,” Richard said, laughing.

  Sam pointed at the motorcycle. “How's the bike working out?"

  "It's great. I'm sure happy Hawkman talked to Uncle Joe before he sold it to anyone else.” Then Richard strolled around Sam's new bike and let out a whistle. “Wow, what a beauty."

  "I'll let you ride it once we get up into the hills."

  Richard cocked his head. “Man, I don't know. I sure don't want to be the first one to put a scratch on it."

  Sam shook his head. “I'm not worried. You ready to go?"

  With a nod, Richard pulled on his helmet, donned his gloves and jumped on the bike. The two rode off toward the mountains.

  After a couple of hours of steep climbs and following deer paths, they came to a stop in the shade of a tall oak tree. They steadied their bikes and flopped down on a flat rock protruding from the soil. Richard pointed up the hill where you could barely see the mouth of a large cave.

  "Remember that?"

  Sam glanced in the direction and smiled. “I'll never forget. That's where I found you after your escape from Jerome.” He pulled some water bottles out of his knapsack and handed one to Richard. “You ready for a sandwich?"

  "Sounds great. Glad you thought to bring food."

  Sam handed him one. “By the way, do you still work at the stables?"

  "Yeah, but they've moved a lot of their horses into town because of the mountain lions, so I'm not as busy. Why?"

  "Would you like to help me do a volunteer job on the weekends?"