"Appears to be nice enough.” Hawkman grinned. “Even though he didn't do well on the checker game."
Harley rubbed his chin and studied Hawkman. “I never forget a face. Especially a pirate with an eye patch. I know you, don't I?"
Hawkman scooted a beer in front of Harley. “Yep. About two years ago you helped me break a case."
"The old fellow's bleary blue eyes lit up like sparklers. “Oh, yeah, now I remember. They called you a bird's name.” He scratched his sideburn. “But damned if I can remember which one."
"They call me Hawkman."
Harley pointed a bony finger at him. “That's right. You're a private investigator."
Hawkman chuckled. “You're correct."
The old fellow frowned, and the wrinkles around his eyes made deep crevices across his temples. “How'd I help ya?"
"Well, you gave me some great information on a missing person. Without your help, we might never have found the young girl alive."
Harley snapped his fingers. “Got it! That was the guy I spotted putting a little pretty thing into a van. I thought it odd how she didn't want to go, but he forced her inside. I memorized his license plate. But never thought much more about it as kids can do the dangest things. Then you came into The Ranger one night asking questions."
"Yeah, that's exactly right, Harley. You have a good memory."
"I hope they put that son-of-a-bitch away for a long time. I've hurt people in my day, but never a child. They were always my soft spot. I love seeing kids playing and having a good time. Brings back wonderful memories when I was a young whipper snapper.” His crooked grin perked up his face as he lit another cigarette. “Now, you must need some more information or why would you be searching for an old fossil like me."
Hawkman smiled. “You're right. No sense in beating around the bush. Did you know a man named Burke Parker?"
Harley nodded. “They found him dead in a motel room, didn't they?"
"Yes. Did you know him well?"
"Naw, a blowhard of a fellow. No one liked him. Couldn't play a decent game of checkers either."
"What do you mean, a blowhard?"
Harley threw a hand in the air. “Didn't hold his liquor well and he had a loose tongue. He blathered on about his wife having an affair with an Indian for years and that she'd given birth to an Indian squaw. People got sick and tired of hearing it. Many wondered why his wife didn't leave him."
"Do you think she knew about his ravings?"
Harley blew out a puff of smoke and gray circles floated across the table. “No doubt. After all those years, she's bound to have noticed her women friends whispering behind her back in the grocery or drug stores. Gossip travels in a small town."
"Do you think people believed the rumors?” Hawkman asked.
"More'n likely, because I saw Parker's daughter a couple of times. A black haired, brown eyed beauty. No way did she belong to him."
Hawkman leaned back in the booth and took a swig of beer. “Wonder why Lilly never left him?"
"Scared and money."
"Scared?” Hawkman asked.
Harley raised his bony hand. “Leaving the bar at night, Parker bragged about how when he got home, he'd have a piece of tail whether she wanted it or not. We also got the idea he beat her. A couple of people seen Lilly with bruises on her face. Then to make matters really bad, when the girl got old enough, he boasted about having his own young squaw. A damned son-of-a-bitch if you ask me.” He leaned forward. “But there's a catch."
"What's that?"
He closed one eye and pointed a crooked finger at Hawkman. “No one ever saw Lilly with any man except Burke. Now, you'd think if some affair went on for all those years, someone would have caught her and the lover together. Now wouldn't ya?"
Hawkman nodded. “Yes, you'd think so."
"Well, it didn't happen. There ain't a soul in this town who can swear on a Bible and state they know her lover."
"That's interesting. But there's a man who might help me on that subject, if I can find him."
Harley raised a brow. “Yeah, who's that?"
"Madukarahat"
The old fellow stiffened. His eyes registered fear as he took the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in the ashtray. “He's one dangerous man to be questioning."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hawkman shifted his position and stared at Harley. “You're serious, aren't you?"
"You damn right.” Harley took a big gulp of beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He carries a long blade, sharp as a razor, and believe me, he knows how to use it. He fights like an old-time warrior, knows the tricks and uses them. He's a big man and his name really comes from the Karok tribe meaning ‘giant', but he claims he's from the Shastas, even though they've banned him from the reservation."
Hawkman raised his brows. “Really?"
"Yeah, he killed one of his own people with that knife. The tribal counsel agreed he fought in self-defense, but didn't want him living amongst their people.” Harley shrugged. “Guess they figured if he did it once, he might do it again."
"Seems odd they'd ban him for self-defense. Sounds like there's more to the story than just a fight."
"Can't say. The white man is only privy to so much information."
"I still don't get why you call the man dangerous, if that's the only black mark on his record."
The old fellow sighed. “I ain't told ya everything.” He pushed up the sleeve on his right arm. A thin even scar extended from his shoulder to his elbow.
Hawkman leaned forward and studied the wound. “He cut you?"
"Yep, but can't say I didn't deserve it. I'm lucky he didn't kill me."
"You want to tell me about it?"
"Hell, might as well. It happened several years ago when I still rode a big bike. Me and a couple of my buddies were haulin’ ass up in the hills. We'd bought some white lightening from an old man who brewed the stuff and were feelin’ our oats. We came upon this campsite and thought we'd have a little fun. This huge Indian fellow stepped out of his tent. He held a knife in his hand and the blade sparkled like a cat's eyes at night. An awesome sight when you think about it."
"So what happened?"
Harley rubbed his chin,and pulled a smoke from his pocket. He flicked a wooden match against his fingernail and lit the cigarette, then shook out the flame. “We were a bunch of smart asses then and weren't afraid of nothin'. So one of the fellows headed for the guy's tent on his motorcycle, but he didn't make it. That Indian grabbed the handle bars and threw ole Johnson off his bike. Then he slit the tires and tossed it aside like a toy.
Full of booze and feeling no pain, but lots of macho, I decided to git rid of the food he had cookin'. Just as I came upon his campfire, I saw the gleam of the knife when he swung it up like lightening speed. I felt a great big sting on my right side and looked down at my arm. It scared the hell out of me when I saw my blood runnin'. Needless to say, I headed for town.” He chuckled. “I had a hell of a time explaining to the doctors that I'd fallen on my bike. They questioned how such a nice even slice down my arm came from glass on the road."
"What happened to your other friend?"
"He didn't like what he saw and high tailed it out of there."
"So you think Madukarahat is dangerous because he protected his belongings?"
Harley shook his head. “No, that just taught me to stay out of his way. Don't get me wrong, he knows how to use his fists too. He used to come into town to do handy work for people and would occasionally drop by one of the bars. Usually the bully of the night tried to take him on. Never worked. He'd beat the pulp out of him. The men soon learned to stay clear of the big man."
"Has he been around lately?"
"Nope. Haven't seen him in several months. Rumor says he's gone to work for one of the Indian casinos."
Hawkman slapped the table with his hand and stood. “Thanks, Harley. Appreciate the information. Another beer's on the way."
"So
unds good to me. Sure you don't have time for a game of checkers."
"Not tonight. Besides, I don't want to break your winning streak."
Harley guffawed. “Yeah, all good hens cackle when they lay an egg. Good to see ya again."
Hawkman left the bar after sending a couple of brews Harley's way. He strolled down the block toward his 4X4, thinking about the information he'd acquired. The stuff about Parker pretty much coincided with Maryann's story to Sam.
The information about Madukarahat came as a surprise. The man appeared to be a loner and possibly dangerous. He'd check with Williams tomorrow and see if the Indian had a record or if any charges had ever been filed against him. If this man turned out to be Maryann's real father, he could very well be under suspicion, if Parker was murdered.
Hawkman climbed into his vehicle and debated about running up to the Three C's casino, but decided against it as there'd be a skeleton crew working and he'd rather talk to the head guy. He'd save the trip for later, after he talked with Detective Williams. The Burke Parker case hadn't officially been declared a murder, but according to the latest test results, something appeared amiss. Whether Parker overdosed on his own medication in his drunken state or someone administered a second drug remained to be seen. He hoped Williams had talked with Parker's doctor. That might shed a little light on the subject.
* * * *
When Sam arrived at the Clifford's place, Uncle Joe greeted him at the door.
"Richard's in his room. Figured you guys might be hungry after all that hard labor, so I'm fixing some sandwiches and will bring them in a few minutes."
Sam smiled and even though he'd eaten, he wouldn't think of turning down the hospitality. “Thanks, Mr. Clifford."
The two young men settled in front of the computer, but before they could read the instructions to the new game, Uncle Joe brought in a tray heaped with food and a couple of sodas.
Soon, they were laughing and enjoying an exciting game of pitting their skills against each other in a full fledged space battle. After two solid hours of concentration, they both flopped back in exhaustion.
"I think I worked harder at that game than I did on the Parker's yard,” Sam said, pretending to wipe his brow. “I had to think about it. Shoveling dirt and pounding nails doesn't take much thought."
Richard laughed. “You're right, this game is quite a challenge.” He left the room and returned with two more cans of soda. He sat down on the chair facing his friend, his expression somber. “I've been thinking about Maryann."
Sam felt his stomach squeeze. “Yeah."
"I don't trust her. I've thought about all the things you've said. You were right and I want to thank you for not telling me I'd be an idiot to fall for the girl. You made me see it for myself."
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He reached over and cuffed Richard's knee. “Good. I'm glad you saw through her. She uses people, then drops them like a hot potato."
"When she wanted me to lie, I immediately knew she didn't respect me."
"I'm glad you came to your senses before you got hurt."
Richard rested his arms on his thighs. “Do you think she had anything to do with Burke's death?"
Sam raked his fingers through his short blond hair. “Boy, that's a good question. Especially, now that we know Burke might have died over the Memorial Day weekend."
"I think she has the guts to pull it off,” Richard said.
"What makes you think so?"
"Her eyes are like blank glass marbles and she shows no emotion in her face. Not even happiness. When she smiles, it's like she has to concentrate to make it happen.” He waved a hand in the air. “You know, it's not spontaneous."
"You're right,” Sam said. “It seems for her, contentedness takes effort. Of course, if what she told me about Parker's abuse toward her is true, I can see why she'd have trouble communicating with people."
Richard reached over and shut down the computer. “And it's a reason for her to kill him."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hawkman arrived home shortly after twelve thirty. When he pulled into the garage, he noticed Sam's bike, and felt relieved his son had gotten home safe and sound from Richard's, a feeling he hadn't experienced while the boy had been away at college. Seems when they're at school you don't worry about them. The human mind is a strange thing, he thought.
He slipped quietly down the hall and into his bedroom. When his gaze drifted to Jennifer's form under the sheet, his heart raced. The moonlight coming through the sliding glass door played across her body. She lay on her side with one tanned leg exposed on top of the sheet. Her long brown hair draped across the pillow like a fan and glistened in the pale light.
Dropping his clothes to the floor, he slid in beside her. When he scooted closer, he discovered she was naked. His hands roamed over her hips and up to her firm breast. She groaned and turned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I told you not to wake me at two o'clock,” she said, nuzzling her face under his chin.
"Oh, I didn't, it's only twelve thirty."
"Well, that's even worse, because I'm more dangerous now than ever.” She nestled closer, running her hand over his back and down his buttocks.
"I'm going to remember that,” he said, loving her every touch.
Not being able to control himself for much longer, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately.
Hawkman awoke early the next morning and glanced over at his beautiful wife. He smiled to himself as he gently tucked the sheet around her shoulders then slipped out of bed. That's some woman, he thought, grabbing his holster and eye-patch off the night stand, jeans off the chair, then quietly snatched a clean shirt out of the closet. Adjusting his eye-patch, he headed for Sam's bathroom, where he dressed.
Meandering into the kitchen, he put on the coffee pot and thought about what he wanted to discuss with Detective Williams before visiting the Indian casinos. If he had a picture of Madukarahat, it might make finding him easier. Some people in town knew what he looked like. At least that's the impression he got from Harley. And the old biker appeared scared to death of the big Indian. Interesting that no one connected Lilly with Maduk. Somehow those two people had kept their secret well. He definitely wanted to find out more about this Native American.
Maryann had told Sam more than most people knew and Hawkman wondered why she'd confided in his son. Possibly because she had a crush on him, and thought her story of woe might catch his interest. Or, because of Burke's death, she felt more free to tell her story. But according to Sam, she hadn't influenced him. He still didn't trust her.
This girl also piqued Hawkman's interest. Why would she want Richard to lie? Did she have something to hide? He'd look a little closer into her stories and background. But he might have to get Williams to help him out, since the schools were getting a bit finicky about releasing information on former students. He'd probably do just as well talking to some of her past instructors. They'd remember her, as rumors fly in the faculty's lounge. Sam could supply the names of her teachers.
Hawkman poured himself a cup of coffee and turned around to find Jennifer standing in front of him with a sly grin on her face. “Good morning, sexy woman.” He took her into his arms and gave her a big kiss. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you'd like to sleep in this morning."
"It's no fun in an empty bed."
"Shall we go back?"
She laughed and playfully pushed him away. “No. I've got lots to do today. And getting an early start will help. By the way, why are you up?"
"I found out some interesting things last night and want to investigate further."
Her eyes grew big. “Tell me."
He chuckled. “Later."
"Oh, Hawkman. You tease me and then make me wait."
"You'll manage to pull it all out of me eventually. But right now, I want to catch Williams in his office. So just be patient."
"That's not one of my virtues."
"I know,
but I love you anyway."
She shook her head and smiled. “You're such a stinker. You always have the right answer."
Hawkman downed his coffee, gave her a hug and left the house. When he reached the police station, he parked in the visitors slot and spotted Williams’ unmarked car near the door. Good sign he's in his office, unless he'd left in a black and white.
The police station buzzed with activity. Even the part-time assistants were scurrying to and fro. Hawkman speculated the detective might not have time to see him if this indicated a sign of serious police business. When he entered William's office, he found the detective with his head bowed and signing a stack of papers.
"Pardon me, sir, do you have a minute?"
Williams glanced up and motioned him to come in. “Hey, glad to see you.” He dropped his pen and flexed his hand. “It gives me time to let my fingers rest. I swear we get more paperwork every day. We can't even scold a man for littering without having to write up a report. It's crazy."
"Guess you have to protect your butts or you'd be sued more than you are now,” Hawkman said, pulling a chair to the front of the desk.
"So what brings you here today? I'm sure it's not a social call. You could do that on the phone."
Hawkman nodded. “Any more reports come in on Burke Parker?"
"No. But I expect them this week. Why?"
"I'd like to know the names of the chemicals they find in Parker's body."
"Any special reason you're interested?"
"Yeah, but I'm not going to say just yet. What I'm really curious about is a Native American called Madukarahat, or Maduk for short. Wondered if he's ever been arrested?"
Williams scratched his head. “Name sounds familiar.” He rose out of his chair and went to the filing cabinet. After thumbing through several files, he pulled out a slim folder and carried it to his desk. “Let's see if this is the same guy. Of course, I doubt there are many people with that name.” He flipped it open, and fingered through the few sheets, then pulled out a photo. “Is this the man?"
Hawkman leaned forward and looked into a very strong and tough looking face. “I'm not sure. I've only heard about him. What's the file say?"
Cause for Murder Page 8
