"Shouldn't you have gone to the police if you're afraid of bodily harm?"
She glanced up at him with innocent green eyes. “Oh no, it's just a personal thing. My life's not in danger."
"Well, that's a relief. You had me worried there for a minute. Where do you live anyway? Are you from around here?"
"Uh, no.” She suddenly changed the subject. “Is there any chance I could take a quick shower? I know that sounds awfully presumptuous. But, I'll get out of here right afterwards."
Charley figured he could give Hawkman a quick call while she had the water running. This seemed like a mighty strange request. He hoped she didn't have any ideas of getting him into trouble. From what Hawkman had told him, this was one devious little woman.
She interrupted his thoughts. “By the way, did Jamey ever get in touch with you?"
"No, but the title company did. She has to sign some papers before the deal can go through."
"Oh, I see.” She glanced up at him. “Is it all right if I take a quick bath?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Thanks.” She got up and headed out the door. “I'll get my bag out of the car."
"Okay, I'll get you some clean towels."
"When she came back in lugging her suitcase, she headed straight toward the bathroom."
"Looks like you're familiar with this place."
He'd swear he noted a red tinge appear on her cheeks.
"Oh, I've been in this house before when Jamey lived here. It's changed a lot but I know where the bathroom is."
"I see,” Charley said.
* * * *
Jamey closed the door and leaned against the wood. She'd better be careful. The old man knows more than he's putting on. Hawkman has probably told him all about me, she thought. She reached over, turned on the spigot, then opened the door just a crack and placed her ear near the opening where she could hear him punching numbers on the phone. Even though he spoke low, his voice resonated through the room.
"Hey, Hawkman. Just thought I'd let you know that little gal Shirley Noland, who told me she represented Jamey whats-her-name? Well, thought you'd like to know she's here. She slept in her car last night right outside my house."
Charley paused.
"Doubt it. She says she's leaving as soon as she gets through showering."
Jamey softly closed the door, stripped off her clothes and jumped into the tub. She hoped he'd called Hawkman at home. If so, she had a good hour before he would reach Medford. That should give her plenty of time to get lost until the meeting. Of course, Charley would tell him what kind of car she drove. Her hands trembled as she rubbed the soap onto a washcloth. How would she ever get out of Medford without Hawkman catching her? He probably even knew her departing flight. She hoped the disguise she brought would fool him. At least until she boarded the plane.
Scrubbing her body, she kept remembering Bob's assurance that the authorities had nothing on her, and she shouldn't worry about it. Then why did she still have that damn chill running down her spine?
Jamey dried, dressed, put on fresh make-up and fixed her hair in record time. She felt a hundred percent better, but she'd better move rapidly.
Hurrying out of the bathroom, she headed straight for the door.
"Wait,” Charley called. “You don't have to leave now. Let me fix you a bite to eat."
She put on her best smile. “Oh, I've been enough trouble. Anyway, I have an appointment in town and if I don't get moving, I'm going to be late. Thanks so much for all you've done. I really appreciate it.” She charged outside, threw her bag into the car and hopped into the driver's seat.
She noticed Charley standing in the doorway with his fists on his hips. “Sorry, old man, I'm not hanging around to get picked up by Hawkman and his police buddies. I'm going into town to sign that deed so you can buy this house. That's all you can expect,” she murmured.
Jamey headed straight for the airport and came to a screeching halt in front of the rental car place. She turned in the Cadillac for a blue Honda Accord. Tossing her suitcase into the back seat, she climbed in and disappeared down the road.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jennifer opened the refrigerator, took out the eggs and bacon while Hawkman hurried from the back of the house and grabbed his hat off the rack. He had one foot out the door when she whirled around. “Wait. Where are you going? I don't have your breakfast ready."
He stepped back inside. “Don't worry, hon. No time to eat. Got a call from Charley. He discovered Jamey sleeping in her car outside his house this morning. She's still there."
Jennifer sighed and returned the food.
"I told him to try and delay her."
"Hawkman, you know that woman won't hang around. She's smart enough to know Charley will notify you as soon as he can."
He walked over and gave her a hug. “You're right. But I have to go. If I have a chance to get close enough, I'm going to warn her about Hopkins. The man is getting scary."
Jennifer frowned. “Do you think he plans to kill her?"
"It looks that way."
She grabbed his arm. “I pray you can keep it from happening. But please be careful in the process."
He kissed her cheek. “I will."
Pushing the speed limit, Hawkman made it into Medford in forty-five minutes. When he rounded the turn going toward Charley's place, he didn't spot any cars around the house. He stopped in front and bolted out of the 4X4.
Charley met him at the door and threw up his hands in despair. “She's gone. I tried bribing her with food to keep her here, but she took off anyway."
Hawkman exhaled. “I figured that would happen. What kind of a car did she have?"
"Just like before. A big white Cadillac."
"Did she give you any hint of where she might be heading?"
"Nope. Said she had an appointment and had to get going or she'd be late."
"How'd she look? Had she changed any?"
Charley looked puzzled and scratched his chin. “Whadda ya mean?"
"Did she look like she did before? You know, brown hair and green eyes?"
"Oh, yeah. A little tired looking, but the same."
"How was she dressed?"
"After her shower, she looked kinda spiffy."
"What'd you mean?” Hawkman asked, raising a brow.
Charley shrugged. “Dressed up. You know, she looked like she might be goin’ to church, hat and all. But in my day gals didn't wear pants to go worship."
Hawkman nodded. “Gotcha. Do you by any chance remember the color of her outfit?"
"Yeah, I do.” He rubbed his chin. “It matched her eyes making them almost glow."
"Green?"
"Yep."
"Thanks, Charley. I'll talk to you later."
* * * *
Carl Hopkins lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He wondered if this whole mess with Jamey would be worth it in the long run. He'd risked his life once before and the woman left him. Then when he caught up with her in Medford, she set him up to take the fall. If she'd only stayed in South America and not returned to the area, he might never have found her. And none of this would be happening. He didn't want to think about who might end up the loser. But this woman had to pay for what she did wrong, just like him.
Crawling out of bed, he went into the bathroom, washed his face and brushed his teeth. He'd forgotten he'd shaved off his beard and cut his hair the night before and the reflection in the mirror startled him for a moment. About that time, a loud knock sounded on the door.
"Yeah?"
Jake's familiar voice echoed. “Church group is down in front with a breakfast cart if you want some."
"Okay, thanks."
Carl decided to pass this time, even though his stomach grumbled. He didn't want anyone to see him clean-shaven just yet. Especially that bunch of cops across the street. That brought up another problem. He needed to get to the title company without being spotted, but the cops now recognized both his car and Jake's, thanks to the nosy private investig
ator. A cab would be out of the question.
Walking over to the window, he opened the shade. The view faced the wrong direction for him to see the front area, and the neon sign blocked the rest. But as he meditated on how he'd get to the title company, he spotted the city bus picking up passengers on the street. He smiled to himself. Of course, that would work perfectly. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
He placed the computer on the small table and plugged it into the phone outlet. While waiting for it to boot up, he sat down, stared at the monitor and tapped his fists on the wood surface. When the laptop finally completed its cycle, his fingers flew across the keys. It took him a few minutes to find Medford's public transportation schedule, but it soon popped up. He wrote down the numbers of the buses stopping in front of the hotel and sketched his route to the title company. Things were looking brighter.
Carl leaned back in the chair and planned how he'd leave the hotel inconspicuously. He figured after dressing in the suit, he'd go out the back door of the hotel. Most of the residents would either be in their rooms or out and about. He'd come up the street from the opposite direction and catch one of the earlier buses, then get off a block before reaching the title company. This would give him time to observe how many cops were staked out in the area. Once he calculated his risk, then he'd be able to make a wiser decision on when to make his move. His heart beat faster in anticipation.
He checked the time and figured he had close to three hours before he should leave. Going over to the chest of drawers, he took out a small jar where he kept extra coins and counted out the bus fare. Some drivers didn't carry change and he didn't want to take the chance of missing the ride. He reached under his pillow where he'd slid the gun last night, checked the chamber and made sure he had it on safety, then placed it on top of the dresser. He stood back with his fists on his hips and glanced around the room. Taking inventory, he eyed the suit, boots, money and gun. Everything seemed in order. Now, his patience would be tested.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Being on the alert for a white Cadillac, Hawkman drove up and down streets near the title company. He had no idea where to look for Jamey, but checked the parking lots of restaurants, motels, and filling stations, anywhere he thought she might stop. But he found no trace of such a car.
Patti told him Shirley Ann Noland had scheduled a flight to San Francisco at six that evening. Then she'd leave out of San Francisco on a ten o'clock flight for South America. A very close timetable with all the security checks at the airports.
He pulled into a station to fill the Chevy's tank and called Williams while the attendant pumped the gas. “Anything on Carl Hopkins?"
"Not a blasted thing. The man hasn't left the hotel. His and Jake's cars haven't moved since last night."
"I suspect we'll see some action around one o'clock."
"I hope so. My guys are getting bored. Anything on the girl?"
Hawkman gave him a quick rundown on Charley's call. “And I have no idea where the woman might be right now."
"Little hard to hide a big Cadillac."
"That's what I thought."
"I'll be at the stake out,” Williams said. “My man will be inside the title company. So let's hope something goes down or we've spent a lot of taxpayers’ money for nothing."
"Yeah, you got that right. I'll keep in touch."
Fingering his new mustache, Hawkman mulled over what to do next. He had over two hours before Jamey's scheduled meeting to clear up the deed on the property. His mind churned with different scenarios.
He figured she knew Charley had contacted him. So what plan did Jamey have in the back of her mind? He put himself into her head and completely eliminated Carl Hopkins from the picture. Jamey's first concern would be to elude him and the police. So, her first step would be to get rid of the car, since Charley could describe it. Step two, change her appearance.
Since she'd had plenty of time to switch rentals, so he could forget about looking for a white Cadillac. He certainly didn't have time to check on what type of vehicle she might be driving now. The next mystery, is what type of disguise this woman could rig up on a short notice? He shook his head. Hell, she might have rented a pickup truck and dressed like a hick. The woman boggled his mind. If it weren't so early in the day, he'd go have a beer.
After a few minutes, he decided he'd better just concentrate on Carl Hopkins and make sure he didn't get anywhere near Jamey. He turned at the next corner and headed for the hotel. Pulling next to the car of the two-man surveillance team, he poked his head out the window. “Any action?"
"Jake left. But no sign of Hopkins. His car's still in the parking lot."
Hawkman stared at the hotel. “Something's wrong. It's almost one o'clock. I figured Hopkins would be gone by now. I'm going to check him out."
"Williams won't like it,” said one of the men.
"I don't think he'd care at this point. There's something damn fishy going on."
Hawkman drove across the street, parked next to the old Toyota, and headed for the front entry of the hotel. When he threw open the door, he bumped into the caretaker carrying a stack of towels tucked under one arm. The man spun around, dropping the linens onto the floor. Hawkman caught him by the shoulder to keep him from toppling over.
Straightening himself, the man shook his forefinger at Hawkman. “What the hell's your hurry. Slow down.” Then he threw back his shoulders and yelled as Hawkman took the stairs two at a time. “Hey, I've already told you there ain't no rooms available."
"No problem, I've come to see my friend."
The caretaker picked up the towels, grumbling to himself.
Hawkman knocked on Hopkins’ door. When he didn't get an answer, he pulled the lock-pick from his pocket.
* * * *
Carl Hopkins dressed with care, combed his hair and checked his appearance in the wavy glass of the dresser mirror. “Not bad,” he muttered, slipping the gun into his inside pocket and dumping the loose change into the outer one.
He peeked out his door at twelve-thirty and found everything quiet. Most men on this floor took a nap around noon. Perfect timing he thought, as he eased into the hallway and softly closed the door. As the lock clicked, he realized he'd forgotten the feather. Shrugging, he figured he didn't need it anymore.
He glanced down the corridor and thought about going out the emergency exit, but decided he didn't trust the old metal ladder that supposedly lowered you to the ground in case of fire. It probably hadn't been oiled or maintained in years and would groan like hell if he put his weight on it, waking everyone in the building.
Instead, he moved quietly down the stairs to the first floor. When he reached the back door, he looked out the small double glass window that had wire mesh embedded between the panes. He scoured the area before stepping outside. Hurrying toward the alley, he cut over to the sidewalk and walked casually toward the bus stop.
Not turning his head, he could see out of the corner of his eye, the surveillance team still parked in the lot across the street. His back toward them, he waited near the bench. When the bus stopped, he boarded and took a seat so he could view the cops as they passed. The car made no movement to follow. Carl smiled to himself. So far, so good, he thought. He adjusted his jacket and leaned back in the seat.
It didn't take long before the bus arrived at the destination Carl had in mind. He exited with several others and headed toward the corner coffee shop that had outdoor tables placed along the front sidewalk. It's locale was perfect for viewing the front door and parking lot of the title company. He strolled inside, ordered the cheapest cup of coffee on the menu and almost choked at the price. Where were the good old days when one could get a cup for twenty-five cents? He meandered back outside and had a choice of several tables. Sitting down at the corner one with the best view, he searched the area for cops. Not seeing any at the moment, he decided to follow the plan he'd thought through last night. He got up, tossed his styrofoam cup into the wastebasket and strolled ac
ross the street.
* * * *
Hawkman entered Carl's room within seconds. He reached up to feel for the feather, but discovered it gone. Hopkins must have left in a hurry, he thought. Softly closing the door, he immediately went to the dresser. Careful not to leave any fingerprints, he pulled a bandana out of his pocket and used it around the knob. When he didn't find the gun in it's normal spot, he checked the rest of the drawers, then searched other places in case Carl had changed the hiding place. Exhausting this area, he stepped into the bathroom. The first thing that caught his eye were clumps of hair all over the sink and floor. He glanced into the wastebasket and discovered it almost full of cut locks.
"Damn!” Hawkman exclaimed, aloud. “I should have expected something like this now that Hopkins feels backed into a corner."
Moving into the main room, he searched the closet, and found an empty wooden clothes hanger covered with a big black plastic garbage bag. He figured this had protected a suit or sports jacket from getting dusty. He pulled up the corner of the mattress and found the laptop nestled in its hiding place.
After checking the hallway, Hawkman hastened out of the room. He needed to contact Williams immediately. He hurried down the steps only to come face to face with the caretaker sweeping the front entry.
The man stopped, holding the broom to his side, and glared at him.
Hawkman sidestepped around the man. “Uh, have a good day."
"I plan to. Who's your friend?"
Hawkman hurried out the door without answering.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jamey drove onto Interstate 5 going north and pulled off at the first exit that showed advertisements for gas and food. Parking at the side of a Shell station, she sorted through her suitcase and removed certain articles, then stuffed them into a large plastic bag. She secured the car and carried the sack into the restroom, throwing the door lock behind her. Yanking off several long sheets of paper towels, she laid them across the floor, then carefully placed the items from the bag atop the paper. She hadn't planned to use this disguise until time to leave, but after hearing Charley's conversation with Hawkman, she figured the private investigator would show up somewhere around the title company.
Diamonds Aren't Forever Page 15
