Cause for Murder

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  She straightened after picking up a pair of sandals from the floor. “Oh, yeah. I hadn't thought about that. I guess the best thing is to pile the stuff on the bed and cover it."

  "First, let's move the furniture toward the center of the room so I can maneuver around it. Then we'll get the pictures off the wall."

  "I can see you have a system."

  "Not sure how good a plan it is, but it worked for the living room."

  "It's a good one.” She tossed the shoes onto the bed, and helped him push the furniture toward the middle. Then taking an armful of hanging clothes out of the closet, she dropped them onto the bed. Sam reached above her and took a stack of boxes off the shelf. The top shoe box slid off the pile and plummeted to the floor. When it hit the carpet, the lid flipped off and the contents scattered.

  When he reached down to collect the small digital camera and several pictures, he gasped. “Oh my God."

  Maryann quickly moved to his side. “What is it?"

  He handed her the camera and photos. Placing a hand over her mouth, she stared at the images as tears welled in her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sam nervously gathered up the rest of the pictures and dropped them into the box, then flopped down on an overstuffed chair. “I feel like I've invaded your mother's privacy.” He glanced at Maryann and noted this was the first time he'd ever seen her display any emotion. Those were real tears flowing down her cheeks.

  She took a breath and quickly wiped them away. “I personally showed Mom how to take pictures of herself with this camera. I didn't think she'd ever used it."

  "It appears you taught her well. Those are very graphic."

  "Burke beat her so bad at times, she wouldn't go out of the house for days because she felt so ashamed. I told her to keep a record of his abuse.” She flipped several of the photo's over and checked the backs. “Thank God, she dated them."

  Sam stood. “I'm glad you're here. I don't know how I'd have handled this if I'd been alone. What are you going to do with them?"

  Maryann replaced the lid. “They're going into a safe place. Who knows, she might need the proof of what he did to her in the future."

  Sam pointed toward the closet. “Could you check the rest of those boxes and make sure there's nothing personal inside?"

  "Sure.” She quickly went through the remaining containers, then examined the inside of the closet. “There isn't anything else here you'd be uncomfortable handling.” She picked up the questionable box and headed for the door, but turned before leaving the room. “You can proceed. This will only take me a few minutes."

  Sam continued preparing the room for painting. As he taped the windows, his thoughts went to the pictures he'd just seen. Some showed blood oozing from fresh wounds around Mrs. Parker's mouth. Another showed her eyes almost swollen shut. A couple revealed bruises on her chest and back. He couldn't image the horror the woman must have gone through during such a beating. She probably wondered if she'd survive the next one. A chill ran down his back. Suddenly, he realized he'd stopped taping and was just staring out the window. Shaking his head, he got back to work, thankful Richard hadn't made it in to help him today.

  * * * *

  Hawkman entered his office after negotiating with a potential client at a coffee shop downtown. He'd discovered the majority of female customers didn't want to come to his office, put preferred neutral ground for the initial meeting. The exchange he had today proved true to form, as the woman appeared quite comfortable and relaxed.

  He stored the new folder in the desk drawer and checked his answering machine. Still no message from Detective Williams. His calendar showed no appointments for the rest of the day, so he decided to make a trip over to the Three C's Indian casino to ask a few questions. The strange encounter the boys had last night bothered him. Even though he'd tried to relieve their fears, he had a hunch someone had tailed them. He needed to find out who and why.

  When he reached the casino, he went straight to the manager's office. He'd met Joshua Rainwater on a previous case and found him cooperative. The door stood open and the receptionist, who had the phone to her ear, motioned for him to have a seat.

  After she hung up, she glanced his way and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Casey. How have you been? Haven't seen you in a long time."

  Hawkman nodded. “Real good, Ms. Nancy. Is Mr. Rainwater in?"

  "Yes. Just a moment and I'll check if he can see you right now."

  She left her desk and went into an adjoining office, then returned within a few moments. “Give him a minute or two; he's on the phone. He'll come out and get you."

  "Thanks."

  She'd hardly sat down at her desk before Mr. Rainwater strolled into the outer office and extended his hand toward Hawkman.

  "Hello, Mr. Casey. Good to see you. Come on in."

  As Mr. Rainwater gave instructions to his assistant not to be disturbed, Hawkman took the chair in front of the large oak desk.

  When the manager entered the office, he closed the door. “I'm assuming this isn't a social call, knowing your type of business,” he said, settling into the leather chair. “So, how can I help you?"

  Hawkman leaned forward, placing an arm on the desk. I'm trying to find a man who works for one of the casinos. I don't know which one, so thought I'd start with yours."

  "Is he in some sort of trouble?

  "No. I need to contact him for information about another person."

  "Do you know his job title or better yet, do you have a name?"

  "I don't know his position. And I've only heard him called, Madukarahat."

  Rainwater didn't seem a bit surprised at the single title and immediately turned to his computer. His fingers flew across the keys as he studied the screen. “Hmm, don't see anyone on our staff by that name. Let me check the head office.” After a few seconds, he smiled. “Ah, here he is. Looks like he's what the white man might call a roving cop."

  "Is there an address or phone number?"

  "No, not in this file. You'd have to get that data from headquarters."

  "What does that job involve?"

  "He travels to all our casinos in the area gathering certain reports and statistics. He then transports them back to the main office."

  "Then I'd assume he'd get his paycheck from there?"

  "Yes, they're located in Medford.” He jotted down the address and handed it to Hawkman. “They can probably give you more information."

  "Do you know if he's furnished a vehicle?"

  He looked thoughtful. “I'm sure they'd give him a car, as that job requires traveling every day."

  "When does he hit here?"

  "There's no set schedule. We're required to report casino activity every twenty-four hours. If we slack our duty, we could get a big fine slapped against us from headquarters. So, to keep us on our toes, they don't tell us when he might appear.” He smiled. “He could hit here today, tomorrow or maybe not until next week."

  "Does he report to you?"

  "No, I've never met him. He picks up the reports at the financial office."

  Hawkman stood and held out his hand. “I won't take up any more of your time. I really appreciate the information. It makes my job a lot easier."

  He grasped Hawkman's hand in a firm grip. “Glad I could be of help. Drop by anytime."

  Hawkman felt no need to stop by the business office. Mr. Rainwater had furnished enough facts about Maduk to continue his search. He left the establishment and by the time he arrived back in Medford, the casino head office had closed. He took out his cell and punched in Sam's number. When he received no answer, he hung up and didn't leave a message. Either Sam had left his cell in the truck or happened to be in a poor signal area. Instead, Hawkman decided to bypass the cutoff at Hornbrook and go into Yreka. If Sam hadn't left the Parker's, he could follow him home in case he ran into any more problems. Reaching the house, he saw no sign of his son's truck, so he circled the block and headed toward Copco Lake.

  When he en
tered the house, he found Sam and Jennifer in the living room. Their expressions told him, they were engaged in a very serious conversation.

  "What's going on?"

  Jennifer waved for him to join them. “Come in here and listen to Sam's story."

  Hawkman hung up his hat, adjusted his eye-patch, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you've another tale of woe.” He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, then moved to his favorite chair.

  Sam quickly rehashed what he'd told Jennifer about the box of pictures in Lilly's room. “Man, it made me feel like I'd ventured into a person's personal domain. I've felt bad all day."

  "Don't let it get under your skin,” Hawkman said. “The woman kept them for her own protection. If she ever has to go to court over Burke's death, she has proof the beatings occurred."

  Sam put his head in his hands. “They were horrible. She looked like some monster with swollen eyes. Her face all puffy and blood running out the corners of her mouth.” He shuddered. “How could any man do that to a woman, much less his wife?"

  Jennifer reached over and touched Sam's shoulder. “Unfortunately, there are a lot of sick people in this world. I'm afraid Burke Parker was one of them."

  "I didn't see all the pictures. I didn't want to. But they also affected Maryann. I've never seen her cry, but she actually shed tears when she looked at them."

  "What did she do with the photos?” Hawkman asked.

  "I don't know. She put everything into the box, then left the room telling me she would find a safe place to store them."

  "At least she didn't throw them away."

  Sam shook his head. “Oh, no, I didn't get that impression at all. In fact, she seemed very pleased her mother had taken the shots."

  "Are you going back there tomorrow?"

  "Yeah,” he said, flopping back on the couch. “I want to get that place finished real soon. I'd like to relax the rest of the summer. This whole ordeal is driving me nuts."

  "Did you by any chance see the car again that followed you and Richard?"

  "No. Did you hear anything from Detective Williams?"

  "Nope. But I did a little sleuthing. I know where Maduk works and I hope to find out more tomorrow."

  Sam's eyes grew big. “Where?"

  "He works for the Indian Casino Company and travels from one establishment to the other in this area and collects reports, then takes them to the head office in Medford."

  "Did you see him?” Jennifer asked.

  "No. And it won't be easy, as he's not on any fixed schedule. I doubt seriously if I can get that information out of the head office, as they keep his comings and goings pretty well under raps."

  Sam frowned. “That sounds like a high-ranking job. He must have some sort of a security clearance."

  "He could very well have cleared for one. There's no blemish on his record."

  "But you told me he killed a man,” Sam said.

  "The tribe took care of it. He was never written up in our police records. So when he applied for a job that never showed up. And we only heard about it through word of mouth. So it could never be proven in a court of law. It's all considered hearsay."

  Sam rubbed his hands across his face. “This whole thing about Maduk is mighty complicated."

  Hawkman nodded. “I definitely agree."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sam received a text message on his cell phone from Richard stating he wouldn't be able to help him the rest of the week because of work at the stable, but he'd pick him up early Saturday morning. Sam groaned at the thought of being alone with Maryann for the next couple of days. But he'd brought this mess on himself and couldn't blame Richard. He'd work hard at getting everything painted on the inside, then maybe they could finish the whole job by the weekend.

  * * * *

  Thursday morning, on his way to Medford, Hawkman received a call from Detective Williams.

  "More Parker reports arrived from the lab. You might want to stop by. I think you'll find them pretty interesting."

  "I'll be there within thirty minutes."

  Anxious to see the information, Hawkman pushed down the accelerator. He parked in a visitor space at the police station and hurried inside. When he reached the detective's office, Williams motioned for him to have a seat as he poured them a cup of coffee. When the detective sat down at his desk, he pushed a folder toward Hawkman.

  "Take a gander at this. You're not going to believe it."

  Hawkman took a sip of the hot brew, then opened the file. After reading for several minutes, he glanced up. “Paraquat? My God, that's potent stuff."

  "Thought you'd find it interesting. They found traces around the tissues of his mouth. And toxic reactions were apparent in his lungs, liver, kidneys, the lining of his stomach and intestines."

  Hawkman leaned back in the chair. “I had a vicious case in the Agency involving paraquat. It's a herbicide for weed and grass control. Classified in the States as “restricted use” and can only be purchased by those who are licensed applicators. The US adds a blue dye and a sharp odor to serve as a warning. Yet, this report indicates it was in the original form."

  Williams leaned forward on his elbows and laced his fingers into a pyramid “How the hell do you think someone got hold of the undoctored stuff?"

  Hawkman shoved back his cowboy hat with his forefinger. “It could have been smuggled in from Mexico. We have lots of foreign gardeners in the area."

  Williams nodded. That's possible. Its brown coloring could easily be mistaken for soda or coffee. Or any other brown liquid, as far as that goes."

  "Did they find any traces of it on the eating or drinking utensils you found in the motel room?"

  "Not yet, but the lab noted, since they've identified the poison, it won't take long to run tests on the other items we shipped. We should get those reports within a day or two."

  Hawkman placed the papers back into the file. “I imagine with Burke Parker being in such poor health, it probably hit him like a bomb."

  The detective sighed. “Yep. I doubt he suffered long."

  "Think I'll do a little research on the computer and see what else I can find out about this herbicide.” Hawkman stood and stuck his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “Let me know when you get the other reports. I'll be interested to see if those utensils show any traces. My gut tells me they will.” He tapped the back of the chair with his fingers. “Appears you have a murder on your hands."

  "Yep, sure looks that way."

  Hawkman left the police station and drove to his office. Once inside, he immediately booted up the computer and linked to Google where he typed in paraquat. Years ago, while still in the Agency, he remembered a big debate over this toxin because they found it in marijuana smuggled into the States from Mexico. The US eventually banned the use of this particular herbicide for destroying marijuana fields in the United States.

  A long controversy brewed about banning paraquat for all purposes, but to this day no action has been taken. At least they'd placed serious restrictions on the poison. Hawkman studied several reports, but didn't come across anything he didn't already know. He printed out a couple of recent articles and put them in a file.

  Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his chin with his pencil and tried to figure out how someone could have administered the poison to Parker. Like Jennifer said, anyone in this town might have done it, since no one liked the man. But he wanted to narrow the number of suspects. He'd start by finding out where Parker had been the days before his death, where he'd eaten, and from which liquor store he bought his booze.

  The motel where they found Parker's body was akin to a cheap boarding house. He paid by the week and had no maid service. Williams had questioned the head man, who'd stated he didn't know a thing about Parker other than he paid his bill up front and didn't bother any one. Since the place had no vacancies, the manager didn't hang around, and knew nothing of his patron's visitors.

  The detective had also talked to
the neighbors. They were all drifters or loners and had no idea when Parker came and went. In fact, some didn't even know what the man looked like.

  Sam had mentioned the only reason Lilly stayed married to Burke was for the money he gave her every month. So, he must have done some sort of work as he couldn't pay his rent, keep up his booze habit, and still give his wife money on what little he received through a disability check. Parker more than likely did odd jobs and Lilly probably had no idea where he got his money since the two were on such bad terms. She just took it and ran.

  The Indian also aroused his interest. His gut told him Maduk was somehow involved in the whole scenario. He'd like to meet him face to face and ask a few questions. A thought struck him and he rummaged through his pockets. He finally found the slip of paper Rainwater had given him with the casino headquarters’ location, but no phone number. Hawkman pulled the directory from the desk drawer, found the listing and punched it in.

  Figuring salaries were paid weekly, he took a chance. “Hello. What time will the paychecks be ready? Thank you."

  "Now if the rest could be so simple,” Hawkman said aloud. Tomorrow's going be a busy day, he thought.

  He worked for a couple of hours on other cases, then checked his watch. He wanted to make sure he left in time to swing by the Parker place, just in case Sam got detained and couldn't leave before dark. He felt uneasy about the boy's safety until he learned more about the black Buick. He could call Sam, but didn't want to give the impression of checking up on him. Young men didn't like parents nosing into their business, their egos were sensitive. Hawkman knew if he casually dropped by, he could use the excuse of wanting to see how much they'd accomplished.

  He left the office and arrived in Yreka within an hour. When he drove by the Parker house and saw no sign of Sam's pickup, he headed home. Pulling into the driveway, it relieved his mind to see the small truck beside the house. Sam sat at the kitchen bar with a whopping sandwich on a plate and glanced up grinning.