"I really lucked out,” Sam said, huffing, as he carried a large bundle to the edge of the yard and dropped it onto the ground. “Some guy had just finished putting in a sod lawn and had all these left over pieces. When I told him what we were doing, he just loaded them right into my truck without ever taking them inside the garden center. I'm sure we have enough to cover the whole front yard."
Maryann peered into the bed and pointed to a dozen paint cans stacked against the cab. “That says interior paint. You're not going to use that for the outside, are you?"
"No, I already have those under the porch. The paint shop next door to the garden center was going to dispose of that line of colors to make room for a new batch and the owner asked if I wanted them. Naturally, I accepted. So, if your mom wants us to paint the inside, we can do that too."
Maryann noticed Richard attentiveness, even though he continued to unload the large rolls. She imagined he'd grasped the gist of the conversation.
"Oh, Mom sent me out here to tell you she's making fried chicken for you guys and it will be ready in about an hour. She wants to do something to show her appreciation for all you're doing."
Sam's eyes lit up. “Richard, did you catch that?"
"Yeah,” he said grinning. “Makes me hungry just thinking about it."
"Good. I'll leave you alone so you can continue. I'll let you know when the food is ready."
"Tell your mom, thanks,” Richard said.
Richard wanted to inform Sam about Maryann's request to keep quiet about being together over the Memorial Day weekend, but realized his monotone voice carried a great distance and he didn't want to risk Maryann overhearing. He decided to wait until they headed home.
They wet down the soil and Sam filled the rented roller with water. It weighed about eight pounds to the gallon, making it one heavy piece of equipment. They took turns running it over the moistened ground, then worked hard laying the sod. They had about half of it down, when Maryann called from the front door.
"Food's on."
Sam patted Richard's shoulder and motioned toward the house. “Time to eat."
The boys removed their heavy work gloves, brushed off their clothes and stomped on the cement sidewalk to knock off as much dirt as possible from the soles of their boots. Then they washed their hands under the hose and slipped on their tee shirts before heading for the house. When they entered the living room, they both sniffed the air.
"Oh, man, does that smell delicious,” Sam said.
Lilly smiled and motioned toward the table set for four. “Sit down. I'll join you as soon as I get the dinner rolls from the oven."
"Wow, this looks like a feast,” Richard said. “We won't want to work after eating this, we'll need to take time out for a siesta."
Maryann laughed as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “I think you're right. I'll definitely be stuffed for the rest of the day."
"They filled their plates and ate in silence for several minutes, until Sam broke the quietness. “Mrs. Parker, this is excellent. Thank you so much."
Richard nodded. “It's delicious."
Lilly patted her mouth with a napkin. “Thank you, boys. I'm glad you're enjoying it."
Sam raised his hand. “Oh, Mrs. Parker, before I forget. The paint shop next to the garden center donated some interior paint and there's plenty for several rooms. If you'd like, we can also paint the inside."
She smiled. “Oh, my, that would be nice. But you boys are using up your vacation on my house."
"We don't mind. In fact, we're both glad to help."
Lilly stared at her plate for a few moments. “I guess you noticed the police were here this morning and you're probably wondering what's happening."
Maryann dropped her fork and glanced at her mother. “Mom, I doubt the guys are interested in our private life."
Lilly raised her head and fixed her gaze on Sam. “Your dad is a private investigator and has close contact with Detective Williams. I'm sure he knows there's a question about whether Burke died of natural causes."
"Uh, I'm not sure what he knows,” Sam stuttered. “He doesn't confide in me about such things."
She smiled. “Well, I just want you to be prepared while you're here, and see police officers around the house. It's nothing to worry about. They only want information about Burke."
Maryann studied both boys, but couldn't make out what they thought about her mother's outburst. However, they appeared very uncomfortable and hurried through their meal. They soon excused themselves and went back to the yard work.
Maryann rose from the table, picked up a couple of the plates, then sat them back down and put a hand on her hip. “Mom, why did you bring up the police?"
Lilly shrugged. “Might as well be upfront, so they don't think we're hiding anything. They recognized the detective and officer. And let me tell you.” She pointed a finger at her daughter. “That young Sam knows more than he's letting on."
Maryann frowned. “What makes you think that?"
"Didn't you see his expression? Even his face flushed. I have a suspicion he knows about Maduk. Have you ever told him about your father?"
"Yes."
Lilly glared at her. “That's too bad. We may be in for more trouble than I expected."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sam and Richard finished laying the sod and instructed Maryann to keep the ground damp for a few days so it'd take root. The boys drained the roller then dropped it off at the garden center. Both felt they'd had a good workout for the day.
As they drove toward home, Richard told Sam about Maryann asking him not to mention their being together over the Memorial Day weekend.
Sam frowned. “What the heck? Seems mighty weird. She got something to hide?"
"My thoughts exactly."
"Did she give you any type of explanation?"
"No, just said she didn't expect me to understand."
"What'd you tell her?"
"I wouldn't lie."
Sam punched his friend on the shoulder. “Good for you. I'll bet it has something to do with Burke's death.” He put a finger in the air. “And you know, I thought it odd her mom mentioned Detective Williams came by just wanting information and for us not to be concerned."
"Yeah, me, too. Why did she think she had to say such a thing?"
Sam raised his hands and dropped them on his thighs. “This whole Burke thing looks mighty suspicious."
Richard nodded. “It's pretty unnerving to be at their house when all this is going down."
Sam glanced at his friend. “Hey, Richard, you don't have to help. I sucked you into this deal, so you're not obligated in any way."
"Hey, buddy, don't take me wrong.” A sly grin curled the edges of his mouth. “In fact, I find it rather exciting to be involved in a murder investigation and not be the suspect."
* * * *
Jennifer noticed when Sam arrived home, he seemed unusually quiet. The only thing he asked was when Hawkman might be home. He didn't even seem interested in dinner. After showering, he walked out on the deck and meandered down to the dock where he stood staring out across the water. She watched from the window, wondering if his pensiveness had something to do with Maryann and the death of Burke.
When Hawkman's vehicle came in sight and rolled across the bridge, Sam hastened up the gangplank toward the house. Jennifer's curiosity piqued and she hoped he'd voice his concerns in front of her and not make it some man-to-man thing.
The minute Hawkman entered the door, Sam hit him with a barrage of questions.
"Did you know Detective Williams and a police officer came by the Parkers’ today? Have you heard any more about the cause of Burke's death? The garden center gave me a bunch of sod and the paint store donated a dozen cans of interior paint. So it looks like we'll be painting the inside of the house. too."
Hawkman raised his hand. “Hold it, hold it. One thing at a time, please.” He gave Jennifer a peck on the cheek. “Did he hit you with all this when he got home?"<
br />
She smiled. “No, he waited for you."
Hawkman hung up his jacket, removed his hat and adjusted his eye-patch. “Think I'll get a beer, then we can sit down and talk."
Sam paced the living room, his hands clasped behind his back. Then he gazed out the picture window until Hawkman strolled in and sat down on the hearth.
"Now, what's this about Williams coming to the Parker's?"
Sam sat down on the couch facing his dad and told him about the day's events. “When Mrs. Parker fixed that big fried chicken meal and told us not to be concerned about the police hanging around, it really set off an alarm in my brain. Why would she say that? It just makes them look guilty. Maryann even tried to avoid it by telling her mom we weren't interested in their private life. It sort of put Richard and me in a spot, especially when she said I probably knew a lot about Burke's death because my dad was a private investigator."
Hawkman raised a brow. “I wonder if she thinks I'm on the case? Did she mention what the detective wanted?"
"No, she never alluded to what they talked about. And it beats me what she meant by the crack about you, but it sure made me uncomfortable. Like she thought we were spying on her. Then coming home, Richard really blew me away when he told me what Maryann asked him to do."
Hawkman set his beer bottle on the brick beside him and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I'm all ears."
After Sam related the conversation between Richard and Maryann, Hawkman frowned. “I don't like the idea of her asking him to lie. Why would she care if anyone saw her in town that weekend?” He took a swig of beer. “Unless..."
Sam scooted forward. “Unless what?"
Hawkman strolled into the kitchen where he took the hanging calendar off the wall. He brought it into the living room and pointed at the dates. “The police discovered Burke's body in the motel on this day.” He tapped the Wednesday square after the Memorial Day weekend. The coroner's report estimated he'd been dead at least three or more days judging by the condition of the body.” He then moved his finger over the previous weekend. “It means he died sometime over this holiday."
Jennifer had been listening as she leaned against the back of the couch. “Do you think Maryann had anything to do with Burke's death?"
Sam dropped his head into his hands. “Man, I don't know. She's a weird one, but I never thought her capable of murder.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Maybe she's trying to protect someone else."
"Who?” Jennifer asked.
"Maybe her real dad, Maduk. He definitely had a motive. And he'd probably know how to make poisons."
Hawkman raised his hand. “Hold on, you two. Let's not get carried away. Just because the coroner's report stated Burke's death wasn't due to natural causes, doesn't mean murder. He could have died of an overdose of a drug or his own medications mixed with alcohol could prove fatal. We do know his mouth and stomach showed signs of something caustic and unusual in the body. But it hasn't been identified yet."
"You're right,” Jennifer said. “But it's still strange Maryann suggested Richard not mention she'd visited the area over the long weekend."
"Yes, it's very intriguing.” Hawkman drained the last of his beer and turned to Sam. “By the way, have you seen Maryann's real father around since you've been working there?"
"Richard and I spotted a guy driving by the house several times in a luxury black Buick on the first day we were there. Neither of us got a good look at the driver. But we compared notes and came to the conclusion, he resembled a Native American. It might have been him.” Sam shrugged. “Or someone looking for an address."
"But he never stopped and asked directions?"
"No."
"Did you say her father's name was Maduk?” Hawkman asked.
"That's what Maryann calls him. His real name is Madukarahat, or something like that. She said it means ‘giant'."
"Has she seen him lately?"
Sam shook his head. “Not that I know of, buy she gave the impression months elapse between their visits. However, I got the feeling her mother sees him often."
"What gave you such an impression?"
"I don't know.” Sam shrugged. “Just a feeling from the way Maryann talked."
Jennifer came around the couch and sat down. “It's odd we don't hear much about the affair between Lilly and Maduk. Probably because many people didn't really blame her. Everyone knew about Burke's alcoholism. And rumor has it, he abused her terribly. I've never heard anyone say they'd seen Lilly with another man, nor ever heard the name Maduk or Madukarahat associated with her. However, the grapevine gossip always referred to her lover as a Native American."
Sam glanced at her. “Well, if there's a murder investigation, they'll have to find him."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sam received a text message on his cell phone from Richard inviting him over to play a new game he'd just uploaded on the computer. He decided to ride his motorcycle and took off shortly after dinner. Soon after Sam left, Hawkman slipped on his shoulder holster and plopped on his leather cowboy hat.
Jennifer eyed him and put a hand on her hip. “It looks like my men are all deserting me. You're obviously going into town to see what you can find out about Burke Parker. Which will probably involve bar hopping."
Hawkman grinned. “When you read my mind, it scares me."
"It's not hard to figure, since the man's name monopolized the whole evening's conversation."
"Hope you don't mind being alone for awhile. I probably won't be real late. The bars close early on Sunday."
"Not really, it'll give me a chance to catch up on my writing. I've fallen way behind since Sam's been home."
He gave her a peck on the cheek and a pat on the bottom. “I'll see you later tonight."
She grinned and gave him a wink. “Don't get any clever ideas of waking me up at two in the morning."
He poked his thumb into his chest. “Who, me?"
Hawkman left the house with a smile on his face. How he loved that woman. He felt sorry for those who didn't have a good wife and stable home. Burke Parker came to mind. If the rumors were true, sounded as if the fellow liked his booze more than his woman.
Next week, he'd stop by Curly's in Medford and ask if he'd ever heard of Parker. But tonight, since the bars closed early, he'd check around Yreka. He could pretty much count on the old timers frequenting their hangouts nightly.
Most of the night clubs or bars in the small town were located on Main Street. And he remembered chatting with an old fellow named Harley sometime back when he needed information. Long ago, the old guy had hung out with a bunch of motorcycle riders and acquired the nickname Harley only after he'd relinquished his motorcycle for a bicycle in his later years. He lived in a shack on the outskirts of town and had no family as far as Hawkman knew.
He pulled into the parking lot of the bar called The Ranger where he'd found Harley before. Locking his vehicle, he scrutinized the area and adjusted his jacket so his gun stayed concealed. When he entered the bar, he hesitated for a moment inside the door for his sight to adjust to the dim lighting. Music blared from the overhead speakers as he glanced around the room. He noted the bar stools were full, but didn't recognize any of the customers, so he meandered back to the booth area, looking for Harley.
He felt eyes upon him and turned. The bartender stood with his fists on his hips, a big grin on his face. “Hawkman, you son-of-a-gun, where've you been keeping yourself?"
Hawkman stepped up to the counter and held out his hand. “I'll be damned, Skillsaw, the last time we met, you were fighting fires in the Siskiyou County forest."
"Yeah, I'll never forget those days. You were on a case hunting down some missing young girl and we found her body buried up there in the hills while cutting a fire line. It was one of the most gruesome things I'd ever seen. I still have nightmares."
"So have you given up fire fighting?"
Skillsaw nodded and let out a sigh. “Had to. Several of us got corner
ed in a fire storm. Big burning tree limb fell on me and I lost a foot. I'm lucky. I got out alive. Two of our boys didn't make it."
Hawkman frowned. “Sorry to hear that."
Skillsaw shrugged. “All part of the job. You know the risk when you go in. Now tell me, what can I get you to drink."
"I really stopped by to see if I could find Harley. Is he still kickin'?"
He laughed. “Oh yeah. We're usually on his schedule for Friday night. Try up the street at the Dude or Larry's.
Hawkman touched his hat. “Thanks. I'll stop back in when I have more time. Good seeing ya."
He then drove to the Dude, scouted the interior, but didn't find Harley. The bartender told him the old fellow visited them on Saturday night. Hawkman figured he should keep notes about Harley's rounds in case he needed him again. Larry's bar was located on the next street, so Hawkman hiked over, leaving his SUV parked at the Dude.
A smaller pub than the other two, Hawkman immediately spotted Harley's big round floppy hat in a booth at the far corner. It appeared he and a buddy were engrossed in a game of checkers.
Hawkman ordered three beers and carried them to the table. “Hello there, Harley. Are you whipping your buddy's butt."
A cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, Harley grinned, exposing several empty spaces between his teeth. The ashes fell to his lap when he let out a big whoop and jumped three of his friend's checkers. “Yep. old Frank here, now owes me three beers."
The man shook his head and got up. “Can't take any more, Harley. You're too good."
Hawkman handed Frank one of the beers. “Here's for trying."
"Why thanks, partner.” He picked up the walking stick resting against the table and limped away.
"Who's your friend?” Hawkman asked, sliding into the booth. “Don't think I've ever seen him before."
"That's Frank Smith, or so he calls himself. He wandered into the area about a year ago. Says he lost his whole family in a fire."
"Sounds like a pretty sad story. Where's he from?"
"Don't rightly know or where he's staying, but he seems okay. He don't cause no trouble."
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