"No. We'd get you out on bail."
Her eyes filled. “But I couldn't come home."
He sat down beside her and ran his hand under her short skirt “Who says? We'll just smuggle you out of the country. You know I can't live without you.” His hands fondled her until her breath came in short gasps. He gently pushed her down on the bed while removing her underwear. Kissing her passionately, he stepped out of his slacks, then lay down beside her, slipping his hands under her blouse. He molded his palms around her bare full breasts and circled the rigid nipples with his fingers. Her hips hunched and she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him atop her.
"Yes! Now!"
After a passionate session of lovemaking, they lay in each others arms. Bob entwined a piece of her hair around his finger. “Oh, my sweet Jamey, I'll never let anything happen to you."
She sighed, rolled out of his grasp and headed for the bathroom. “I've got things to do.” Then she peeked around the bathroom door with a grin on her lips. “I'll certainly miss these romps if I get thrown into jail."
He pitched a pillow at her. “Stop talking like that. Nothing's going to happen."
Jamey filled the bathtub to the brim, then eased into the warm water. She pushed away the bubbles that tickled her nose, then closed her eyes.
* * * *
Bob knew better than to bother Jamey any more, so he dressed and left the room. As he went downstairs to the den, he wondered if he should send a bodyguard to accompany her. She appeared unusually bothered about this trip. He couldn't imagine why this Hawkman guy upset her so much. Did the man know something that could get her into trouble? Or had Jamey let her imagination wander?
The woman made a wonderful sex partner and delighted him to no end. But no way would he gamble going into the States. Beautiful or not, she wouldn't be worth the risk of going to jail.
He paced the floor. Her anxiety had rubbed off on him and he wanted to put his mind at ease. Trying to convince her that she had nothing to worry about didn't seem to help. This Hawkman fellow really had her freaked out. He knew he couldn't hire a man to accompany Jamey without her approval. She'd have to agree before he took action or it could send her off on a tangent. He'd approach her about the idea as soon as she came downstairs.
An hour later, Jamey came bounding into the den looking fresh and sparkling. She'd pulled her hair back in a neat bun with little ringlets framing her freshly made up face. She plopped down on the couch beside Bob. “I've checked with the airlines and they aren't booked up for the late Monday night flight, so I shouldn't have a problem. Same goes with the return trip. So I think I've got it whipped in that department. Now, let's hope the title company doesn't goof up."
Bob put his arm around her. “Sounds good. I've been thinking about maybe sending a bodyguard with you. What would you think about that idea?"
She shook her head. “I don't think it's necessary. A big hunk of a man walking behind me might bring more stares than I'd desire.” Kissing his cheek, she smiled. “Thanks for the thought though."
Rising from the couch, she took his hand and pulled him up. “Let's go out on the town tonight. I don't want to sit around here thinking about this trip the whole evening. Dinner and dancing would take my mind off the whole deal."
He laughed. “You've got a date."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hawkman spent several hours at the office without Jamey on his mind.
When the phone rang, he punched on the speaker phone. “Tom Casey"
"Charley here."
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Thought I'd let you know I got a visit from that Hopkins guy. Why don't you drop by on your way home and I'll tell you about it."
Hawkman felt the muscles in his back tighten. “I'll be over in a few minutes.” Things were happening too fast. Obviously, Hopkins had discovered the house belonged to Jamey.
He slipped the files he'd been working on into the desk drawer, but before he could get out of his chair, the phone rang again. This time he picked up the receiver. “Tom Casey."
"Hawkman, Detective Williams. Thought I'd try your office and see if I could catch you before you left. Wanted to let you know I heard from the title company. They've made arrangements with Jamey for an appointment next Tuesday around two o'clock."
Leaning forward, Hawkman picked up a pencil and scribbled some notes on a paper pad. “Doesn't give us much time. Did you by any chance ask them how they contacted her?"
"Yes. By e-mail. And that's how Jamey responded."
Hawkman let out an audible sigh and tapped the eraser on the desk. “Not good. I'm sure Hopkins has already hacked into the title company. From what Jennifer tells me, they do a lot of their transactions on the computer. Saves time and money. Looks like we need to tighten the circle around our ex-con."
"You think he's found out that Jamey owns that house?"
"I'm positive. Just received a call from Charley and he says Hopkins paid him a visit. I'm headed there now."
"Let me know what you find out."
"Will do."
Hawkman hurried from the office and drove to Charley's place. He wished the old fellow would have divulged the information over the phone. But knowing Charley and how he hated to talk on the ‘teleyphoney', as he called it, Hawkman felt it best to speak to him in person. He parked on the street near the garden and spotted the farmer standing with hose in hand, watering the plants.
Charley glanced up, waved, then meandered over to the faucet where he turned off the water. He lifted his hat, brushed hair out of his face, then plunked it back onto his head.
Hawkman stepped out of the truck and could see the twinkle in the old man's eyes as he motioned him toward the shade.
"Nice day, but always warm in the sun,” Charley said, flopping down in the chair.
Hawkman nodded, sat in the other one and got right to the point. “When did Hopkins come by?"
Charley wrinkled his forehead. “Must have been somewhere around three or four this afternoon.” He pointed at the garden. “He caught me pullin’ weeds and the minute I seen that old gray Toyota pull up, I knew who it was.” He slapped a hand on his thigh and whooped. “Didn't have a chance to pump my shotgun though."
Hawkman couldn't resist a grin. “Probably just as well. What did he want?"
"He asked me if I was the hired hand. I told him no, I lived here."
"How did he respond?"
"It appeared to stun him at first. When he got himself back together, he asked me who owned the house."
Hawkman sat forward in his chair. “What'd you tell him."
Charley shrugged. “Told him I had no idea. I paid a rental agency and they took care of everything."
"Good thinking."
"Yeah, but then he asked a question that floored me."
"What?"
"Aren't you going to buy the place?” Charley leaned forward, rested his arms on his thighs and stared at Hawkman. “Now, how the hell did he know that?"
"If I told you, you'd think me nuts."
Charley leaned back in the chair. “Try me."
Shifting in his seat, Hawkman pondered if he should tell the old man. Scratching his sideburn, he studied Charley's weather-beaten face.
"Well, are you just gonna sit there and gawk at me?"
Hawkman snickered. “How much do you know about computers?"
"Damn little."
"That's why I'm not sure you'd understand. But I'll try to explain. Hopkins is what they call a computer hacker. Which means he knows how to break through some of the security systems installed on companies’ computers. This allows him to view private documents on their systems."
Charley nodded. “I follow you. I've heard the term before.” Then snapped his fingers. “So you're saying he hacked into the title company's business?"
"That's what I figure."
"Then how come he came over here if he already knows who owns this house?"
"I assume he wanted to see what you looked like and f
ind out how much you knew about Jamey. Since you told him you didn't even know who owned the house, he probably decided you didn't have any beneficial information."
"You think this guy's dangerous?"
"Yes.” Hawkman waved a hand. “But not to you. Only to Jamey Schyler."
Charley frowned. “She's going to have to come back here and clear up that title. Will he know when?"
"I'm afraid so, as the title company does a lot of correspondence over the internet. I received a call from Detective Williams before I left my office. He informed me the company had received an e-mail message from Ms. Schyler. She's arriving Tuesday.” Hawkman rubbed his chin. “Makes me think Hopkins didn't check his computer before he came by here."
The old man shook his head. “Don't think I like them machines."
"They're a great invention for those who use them right."
"You use one?"
"Sure do. Saves me a lot of footwork."
Charley pointed a finger at him. “Well, they'll never replace a home grown garden."
Hawkman chuckled. “You're right. It'll be a while before that happens.” He rose from his chair and patted Charley on the shoulder. “You let me know if that Hopkins guy comes around again."
"Will do."
He left Charley's place and headed for the airport. Stopping at a candy store, he picked up an expensive box of chocolates and had it gift wrapped. When he arrived at the airport, he went inside and proceeded toward the ticket counter. He spotted Patti as she left the work area and headed down the passage way.
"Patti,” he called, jogging to catch up.
She turned and smiled. “Hello, Hawkman. What are you doing here today?"
"You're not going to believe this, but I need another favor."
Throwing back her head, she laughed. “Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"Am I keeping you from a meeting or something?"
"No, I'm on a break. Thought I'd go get a cup of coffee and a roll. Want to join me?"
"Only if I can treat you."
"Sounds good."
They settled at a small round table in the coffee shop. He placed the wrapped gift in front of her. “I really appreciate what you've done so far."
"Oh, thank you. But you didn't have to get me anything."
"I know. But you refuse to let me pay you."
She wrinkled her nose. “If I ever got caught giving out information without a court order, I could be in big trouble with my superiors."
He raised his hand and crossed his heart. “They'll never hear your name from my lips."
"Okay, so what do you need now?” she asked, cutting her roll with a fork.
"Are you working Monday night?"
She rolled her eyes. “I work every night."
"That's good.” Then he smiled. “Well, for me. But maybe not for you."
"So what do want me to check this time?"
"I want you to see if there's a flight reservation into Medford for Shirley Ann Nolan on Monday or early Tuesday morning. And while you're looking, see if she has a return trip scheduled."
She grimaced. “That's the same woman you had me check on before."
"That's right. However, there's a chance she might use the name Jasmine Louise Gray or Jamey Schyler. Or she could come incognito as a young male. Is there some way you could tell if a man or a woman arrived from South America?"
"Sure. The ticket should have all that information imprinted on it, even if they changed planes in Los Angeles or San Francisco.” She glanced at him with wide eyes. “You mean she could even try to disguise herself to look like a man?"
"I wouldn't put it past her."
"Boy, this gal must be something else. Tell me, why are you so interested in this woman's comings and goings?"
"It's a long story, but it boils down to the fact that her life could be in danger."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Patti dropped her fork on the table with a clatter and stared wide-eyed at Hawkman. “You mean someone's out to kill her!” After her loud response, she quickly glanced around the room at the turned heads. Picking up her napkin, she dabbed her lips and in a muffled voice apologized. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be so loud. It just shocked me.” She picked up her utensil and, fighting for composure, forced a smile. “That sounds like quite a book. Remind me to read it so I can find out the ending."
People chuckled and continued their conversations.
Hawkman grinned and leaned forward. “You're a fast thinker."
She blushed. “Thanks. But what makes you believe she might be murdered?” she asked in a softer voice.
"I can't say for sure it's that extreme, but there's a definite threat. That's why I need to know when she arrives and her time of departure. I figure she'll only be here for one day. If you can help me narrow those hours, then I might be able to prevent something from happening."
Patti nodded. “You can count on me."
He wrote on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to her. “This is my cell phone number. Contact me anytime day or night. I always have it with me."
"I'll call the minute I learn anything."
Hawkman stood. “I'll leave so you can finish your break in peace. Thanks so much for doing this."
He left the airport and drove into town. Swinging by Curly's bar, he circled behind the building and recognized Hopkin's car parked in the alley. Satisfied the man would be at work for a few more hours, Hawkman headed for the old hotel. Now that he knew Jamey's arrival day, he should be able to verify if Hopkins had hacked into the title company records by checking the man's computer.
At this late hour, he hoped the caretaker of the hotel had closed up and gone to bed. He sure didn't want to bump into him again. Parking across the street, he made his way toward the dark front entry. As his boot landed on the first concrete step, a gruff voice came out of the dark.
"Gotta a dollar you could spare?"
Hawkman stopped in his tracks. He focused his gaze on a figure sitting on the landing, with legs dangling over the side. The burning end of a cigarette held in the mouth silhouetted a man's scraggy face.
Ignoring the question, Hawkman brushed past the vagrant and went inside. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the lobby doors closed. Heading up to the second floor, he didn't waste any time in using his pick to open room number twenty-three. Then he quickly rescued the feather off the top of the door before it had time to float to the floor. He pulled the laptop computer from under the mattress and set it atop the bed. It took a minute or two to boot up. Several files cluttered the desktop, but the one that drew his attention had the name of ‘title'. When the folder opened, he found an icon inside named ‘mail', and clicked on it. A message from the title company to Jamey Gray or Jamey Schyler appeared. So Hopkins had succeeded in penetrating their files.
He then went online and found Hopkins had a message. Should he risk reading it? Recognizing the server, he knew he could ‘save as new’ and Carl would never know he'd opened it. But just as he put the pointer over the icon, squabbling voices penetrated the hallway. He closed the lid and stood beside the door. His hand automatically went to his shoulder holster where he released the cover and rested his hand on the gun grip.
Two men were loudly arguing right outside Hopkins’ room. They'd soon have the whole place awake if they didn't cool it. Then down the way someone yelled, “Shut up!"
It seemed to work as the two lowered their dispute and the sound trailed off down the hallway. Then a couple of doors slammed. Hawkman hurried back to the computer and opened the e-mail which came from Jamey. It stated she'd be at the meeting at two o'clock on Tuesday afternoon. No mention of her arrival or departure. Hawkman toyed with the idea of permanently deleting the e-mail but knew that Hopkins had the talent to find wherever the computer might hide deleted mail. And then he'd know someone had messed with his machine. Also the message didn't give any new information. So, he clicked on ‘save as new'.
He found nothing else of
interest, turned off the computer and slid it back into its hiding place. He inspected the dresser drawer again and found the gun still wrapped in underwear.
The room appeared pretty much the same as before, so he grabbed the feather off the dresser, replaced it on top of the door and slipped out. He'd no more stepped down the first few steps than he recognized Hopkins backing in the front entry and shouting at the vagrant on the landing.
"Why don't you get the hell out of here. No one has any money around this place. Go to some fancy hotel, you stupid old man."
Thank God for that tramp, Hawkman thought, as he quickly turned and hightailed it up the stairs to the third floor. He stood in the shadows out of sight until he heard Hopkins’ door close. Quietly, he eased back down the stairwell keeping an eye on room twenty-three, then hurried down the next flight, and dashed out the door. He noticed the old derelict had disappeared off the porch.
* * * *
Carl ran his fingers over the top of the door and rescued the feather from its hiding place. He then stepped inside and dropped the piece of fluff into a cup sitting on the small table in the corner. Immediately, he reached under the mattress and pulled out the laptop. Odd, he thought, running his hand over the top, it feels warm. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to keep it under there where it can't get any air circulation to cool down. He sat on the bed and opened the lid. A tinge of excitement ran through him when he heard the voice say, ‘you've got mail'. He'd set it up so anything coming through to American Title with the name ‘Jamey, Schyler or Gray’ would also come to him.
"So, she'll be at the title company, Tuesday at 2 o'clock,” he said aloud. “I'll be there, my pet, Jamey. That is, if I don't find you beforehand.” He did a quick search on the airlines and noticed several flights coming into Medford from Los Angles and San Francisco. He shoved a pillow behind his back and leaned against the rickety headboard. “If it's true what the one-eyed investigator says, you'll be coming from South America,” he mumbled. “That's a long haul. You'll more than likely fly in Monday evening and spend the night at a motel."
Diamonds Aren't Forever Page 8
