Angels in Disguise (15 page)

He picked up the phone and gave Jennifer a call. “Don't worry about dinner tonight. I'm bringing home filet mignon."

"Oh, yummy. That sounds delicious. I'll make a salad and get the baked potatoes ready."

"If you insist, but I'll be glad to fix the whole nine yards."

"No problem. Give me some idea when you'll be home."

"I'll leave here in an hour."

"Okay. I'm looking forward to the meal."

After hanging up, he decided tomorrow he'd take the falcon for a hunt, and Jennifer out in the boat, as she seldom fished anywhere but off the dock. Not that she couldn't drive the Boston Whaler wherever or whenever she wished; it was just fun being together. Satisfied with his plans, he turned his attention back to the file and scribbled some notes.

Hawkman soon left the office with the steaks and chocolates in hand. When he reached the house, Jennifer had finished making the salad, the bakers were ready to pop into the microwave and a loaf of sweet french bread sat on the cutting board ready to be sliced.

That night in bed they lay cuddled in each other's arms. Holding her close, he caressed her hair, wondering if she'd lose those beautiful long locks if she needed chemotherapy? Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to imagine her with a bald head, but couldn't make the picture materialize.

Jennifer's body relaxed and her breathing fell into a rhythmic pattern. He realized she'd fallen asleep. Kissing her forehead, he savored her sweet smell before gently pulling away and tucking the covers around her shoulders. He positioned his arm tenderly around her waist and closed his eyes.

The next morning, Hawkman quietly slid out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a tee shirt, then padded to the kitchen in his bare feet. He plugged in the coffee maker, then removed a pound of bacon from the refrigerator. Turning on the burner under the big black skillet, he removed several strips and threw them into the pan. Taking out four eggs, he placed them carefully on the counter.

Even with the exhaust fan sucking most of the smell to the outside, the aroma of frying bacon floated through the air. Hawkman checked down the hallway several times wondering how Jennifer could sleep through the wonderful smell of food. He shook his head, musing how women just didn't have the sensory appreciation men did when it came to great grub.

His attention went back to the browning meat when two arms encircled his waist.

"Boy, you sure know the way to a woman's heart."

Hawkman laughed and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I wondered how long it would take to drag you out of bed. My plans today call for us to get an early start."

She stepped back and pointed a finger at her chest. “I'm included?"

"You bet. Bring your camera and we'll take Pretty Girl out for a hunt, then we'll come home and I'll take you out in the boat to do some fishing. I'm in the mood to catch a big bass or trout."

She put a hand on her hip. “My goodness, what brought on all this spoiling, plus you surprising me with the fabulous box of chocolates?"

He handed her a filled plate and ducked his head. “Guilt. I've neglected my beautiful wife too long."

"Hmm,” she grinned. “I like your change of heart."

After breakfast, they took the old truck and the falcon up into the hills. While the bird soared above their heads, Jennifer snapped pictures of a big four point buck, a covey of quail and a couple of wild turkeys scurrying across the road. It didn't take long for Pretty Girl to find herself a nice meal of squirrel. They waited for her to eat, then Hawkman whistled. The bird circled high in the sky, then slowly descended, landing on his protected arm.

When they arrived home, Jennifer sat on the deck reviewing the pictures she'd taken with her digital camera while Hawkman filled Pretty Girl's water and food dishes before placing her back into the aviary.

"These pictures are great. I can hardly wait to load them onto the computer. The one of the buck turned out fantastic. He stood like a king on top of that rock ledge."

"I sent word to the big guy to find a good spot so you could get the perfect shot."

She grinned. “Right. And he minds well."

"Let's gather the fishing gear and give the lake a try. It's been awhile, and I'm wondering if those bass still hang out in those holes where I used to frequent?"

"Nothing like the present to find out.” She placed the camera into its case and went inside.

Jennifer fixed a lunch to take, while Hawkman loaded everything into the boat. Several hours later they returned in good spirits with a stringer full of fish. Hawkman noticed she sat quietly as he tied up the craft.

"Hon, you okay?"

"All of a sudden I'm extremely tired."

He helped her from the boat onto the dock. “You go on up to the house and relax. I'll bring the gear and clean the catch.” Watching her stroll up the gangplank, he noticed her usual feisty step had lost its pep. This worried him. He hoped he hadn't overextended her energy level and planned to be more careful in the future.

Later that evening, he sealed the last of the perch with the vacuum packer and stored them in the freezer. When he glanced into the living room, Jennifer had stretched out on the couch with an afghan tossed lightly over her body and appeared sound asleep. His stomach wrenched. The cancer seemed to be taking its toll, and he prayed she could conquer the challenge that lay ahead.

Monday morning, Hawkman lingered around the house until Jennifer peered over her computer. “Aren't you going into work?"

"I wanted to wait and see if you got a call."

"If I do hear from the doctor today, all he's going to tell me is the biopsy's verified there's cancer and what kind. We have to accept the fact it's churning inside me."

"But won't he tell you the next step?"

"I'll definitely find out, but I can relay the news to you by phone. Nothing else is going to happen today. You don't have to hang out here wasting valuable time you could be spending on the Carlotta case."

"Are you telling me to get out of your hair?"

She sighed. “Yes. You drive me crazy pacing the floor. I can't focus knowing you're so worried."

He nodded. “You're right. I'm heading for Medford. Promise you'll call the minute you hear anything."

"I promise."

When Hawkman reached the city, he drove straight to the police station. He hadn't heard from Williams, but decided he'd stop by in case they'd had time to compare the prints. He found the detective's office locked, so he stopped by the front desk.

"Detective Williams around?"

"He's at a meeting in town and probably won't be back for a couple of hours. Can I give him a message?"

"No, I'll call him later."

Hawkman left and drove to his office. When he unlocked the door, stale air filled his nostrils. He crossed the room and opened the window. Peering up at the dove's ratty nest, he saw the pair had departed their temporary home again. Seemed these two doves had trouble conceiving fertile eggs. No new hatch after three tries.

The days were warming up, and he'd soon have to turn on the air conditioner. Stepping to his desk where he'd left Carlotta's file, he flipped open the folder. He'd memorized everything in it, but he scanned his latest notes. The question marks in the margins reminded him of what he needed to pursue.

He put on the coffee pot, then sat down and listened to the two messages on his answering machine. The first came from an automated telemarketer, which made him frown. He hated receiving those on his business phone. The other came from a previous client who needed an extension on his bill. He'd had a medical emergency and it would be next month before he could pay the balance. This didn't bother Hawkman as he knew the person well and he'd eventually get paid.

Until he heard from Williams about the fingerprints on the suitcase, he couldn't proceed to question his suspects. Waiting made him restless, but he knew he couldn't push the detective who'd call as soon as he had anything to report.

Then the aroma of freshly baked delicacies wafted through the window. Hawkman's stomach growled, even though he'd eaten a hearty breakfast. He'd come to the conclusion this wonderful aroma would forever be a weakness he couldn't control. Trotting down the stairs, he entered the bakery. The old man with flour dusted hair glanced up and grinned, then shoved a long pan filled to the brim with goodies onto the counter.

"I knew you wouldn't last long up there. Take your pick. Today it's on me. We're celebrating our tenth anniversary of business."

Hawkman pointed at a large bear's claw. “Congratulations! I had no idea it'd been so long. Time sure flies. But I can see why you've stayed in business; your products are one of the best and I'm addicted."

The old man stood taller. “Thank you. We take a lot of pride in our baking."

Hawkman carried his choice up the steps and placed it on the desk while he poured himself a cup of coffee. Just as he closed his mouth over the pastry the phone rang. Washing the bite down with a swallow of the hot brew, he punched on the speaker phone.

"Casey, Private Investigator."

"Hi, thought I'd let you know I heard from the doctor."

Hawkman stiffened in his chair. “What'd he say?"

"The biopsy verified it's follicular lymphoma. He's set up an appointment with an oncologist for Thursday."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “So it really is cancer?"

"Honey, we pretty much knew it. But the doctor assured me they can make it go into remission with treatment. We'll make up a list of questions, so we'll know exactly what to ask when we see him."

"Good idea.” He glanced at the bear claw held in his hand and noticed he'd clenched it so tight that his fingers had dug through the dough.

"I'll talk to you more when you get home. Did you find out anything about the prints you gave to Williams?"

He dropped the pastry onto the napkin and sucked on his fingers to get off the sticky. “Uh, no. Williams had a meeting and wouldn't be back for a couple of hours, so I'm waiting for his call."

"What are you doing?"

"Licking sweet stuff off my hands."

"You've been at the bakery again."

"Yeah, you know I can't resist."

"You do have a fondness for sweets,” she said, laughing. “We better get off the line in case the detective tries to call. I'll talk to you later."

He punched off the speaker phone and leaned back in the chair. Feeling like he'd been smacked in the jaw by her news, he wiped the back of his hand across his lips expecting to find blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

When the phone rang, he jumped, the sound bombarding through his brain like a loud firecracker. He grabbed the receiver. “Casey here."

"Don't bite my head off."

"Sorry, detective. Didn't mean to come on so strong. Had my mind focused elsewhere."

"I think you better drop by as soon as you can. Have some interesting results from those prints. I think you'll find the report rather astounding."

Hawkman pulled himself together and drove to the police station. When he reached the detective's office, he gave a quick knock on the door jamb and stepped inside.

Williams looked up from his desk. “You certainly didn't waste any time getting here."

"I've been waiting for these results before delving deeper."

The detective handed him the report. “I think you'll find this rather interesting. I made you a copy."

Hawkman scooted a chair forward and sat down. Reading through the report he raised his brows. “It looks like several people handled this suitcase."

"Yeah, the lab even found one of the little girl's prints at the bottom of the rail near the rollers."

Pushing his hat back with his forefinger, Hawkman scratched his sideburn. “This is going to be more complicated than I suspected. I'd hoped this would have told us who shoved the bag under the house."

"Nothing's easy. The prints on the handle are the clearest, you might want to pursue those first. There are several of Carlotta's on the metal areas, which we expected."

"It's reasonable for Paul's to be present, since he's the husband. But the most interesting are Tulip's. Why would her fingerprints be on Carlotta's suitcase?” He glanced back at the report. “I see Delia's not mentioned."

"No, nothing matched her prints.” Williams picked up a file he had on his desk. “I've decided to open this case as one of ours. The woman's been missing for close to two weeks and you're going to need help. This case is getting more involved by the day. We won't take an active role yet. So go ahead with your investigation. We'll be here to assist."

"Appreciate the work you've already done. Yes, I'm afraid it's getting to the point where I might need a search warrant to do some snooping.” Hawkman stood. “Guess I better get myself in gear and do some serious questioning."

Williams cocked his head and stared into Hawkman's face. “Everything okay with you?"

"That's the second time you've asked that question. Do I look like something's bothering me?"

"Yes and no. But I've noticed lately you aren't your witty self. Much too serious."

"Got a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not right now. Maybe down the road.” Rolling up the fingerprint paper, he hit it against his other hand. “I'll get back to you when I get some answers."

The detective's gaze followed his friend as went out the door.

Hawkman climbed into his vehicle, checked the time and phoned Paul. “Hello, Mr. Ryan, Tom Casey. We need to talk. When will you be home?"

"Have you found Carlotta?"

"No. But I have some important questions."

"I'll meet you at my apartment in fifteen minutes."

"See you then."

Hanging up, Hawkman turned the key in the ignition and headed for Paul's place. Driving into the complex, he noted the black Lexus already parked in front. He pulled alongside and hopped out. As he stepped to the front door, he could hear a muffled male voice. Assuming his client might be on the phone, he knocked softly. The voice became silent and after a few moments, Paul opened the door.