Angels in Disguise (16 page)

"Come in, Mr. Casey.” He gestured toward the living room. “Have a seat. You sounded so grim on the phone, I hurried right home."

Hawkman chose the chair facing the couch where Paul sat down. “Things are not looking good. Have you checked Carlotta's credit card bill lately?"

"Yes, right after you called in case you asked. Nothing."

Leaning forward, Hawkman placed an arm on his thigh. “I'm concerned we might not find Carlotta alive."

"What do you mean?"

"I found her suitcase filled with newly purchased clothes under the house. I doubt your wife is the type to go on a trip without her new wardrobe."

Paul came forward, his expression somber. “Under the house?"

Hawkman studied the man's face. “Yes, and the bag had your fingerprints on it."

Paul's eyes widened and his coloring turned ashen. “I haven't handled that suitcase in a long time.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Wait, I did use it when I took a business trip back east a month ago. I borrowed it from Carlotta."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes, I'm sure work has an invoice of the trip."

"Good. You're going to need it. Also someone who saw you with that particular suitcase."

Paul's mouth dropped open. “Mr. Casey, you're scaring the hell out of me. I'm not sure I can provide someone who would recognize the bag."

"I think you better try. Maybe a busboy at the place you stayed would remember. The police are getting involved and you better have plenty of proof of your whereabouts for the past three weeks. More than likely you'll become a prime suspect for the murder of your wife."

"Murder!” Paul launched from his seat and walked around the couch. “You haven't found her body, have you?"

"No, but everything is pointing to the fact that your wife didn't leave on any trip. Doesn't that sound mighty suspicious to you?"

"Hell, yes."

"You've already lied to me about Carlotta taking Tiffany to your mother's."

Paul's head drooped forward, his hands clutching the back of the couch. “I just assumed Carlotta had taken Tiffany over. I was very upset and Mother later corrected me."

"Did she set you straight after I talked with Tiffany and she showed me the note Carlotta had left or before?"

Paul lowered his eyes. “After."

"How many other fabrications have you told me?"

He straightened and raised his right hand. “None, I swear. It was just a misunderstanding."

"I'm trying to believe you. Another thing I need to know is, if anyone has driven or been inside Carlotta's car since she disappeared."

"Not that I'm aware, but I should call Mom and find out. She or Tiffany would be the most apt to get into the car for some reason."

"Maybe you should check right now."

Paul stepped into the kitchen. Within a few minutes he returned to his seat across from Hawkman. “No, neither of them have even been near the Camry. Mom didn't think it a good idea for Tiffany to be reminded of her mother's disappearance."

"I'm going to have it dusted for prints. So you better be telling the truth. If we find any evidence you've been in that car, your butt is fried."

"I loved my wife, Mr. Casey, I wouldn't have harmed her."

"They all deny it, Mr. Ryan. It won't hold up, so I'd advise you to answer all my questions truthfully."

"I will."

"How often do you see Tulip Withers."

Paul stared at him. “Tulip?"

"Yes."

"Seldom. Only when Carlotta has her over for lunch or dinner."

"How about phone calls?"

"Mr. Casey, Tulip's had a crush on me since high school. She calls my office, apartment and leaves messages on all my phones. I've tried to discourage her, but with no luck."

"What kind of messages?"

He shifted his position and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, she tells me what a wonderful living I make for my family. And how Carlotta doesn't appreciate me. Silly high school stuff."

"Do you like the woman?"

Paul ran his fingers along the cushion seam. “She's okay, but I'm certainly not attracted to her if that's what you're implying. I'm courteous for Carlotta's and Tiffany's sake. They both seem to care about Tulip. To tell the truth, I feel pity for her because she has no one but her dad."

"Has she called since Carlotta's disappearance?"

He nodded. “Yeah."

"What did she want?"

"Oh, she wants to bring me dinner. Figures I'm lonely and not eating right. Tells me how worried she is about Carlotta, wonders when she'll return, and can't understand why she left such a precious daughter."

"How do you respond?"

"I don't. I screen my calls and know it's her, so I don't answer."

"When did you hear from her last?"

Paul scratched the back of his neck, and screwed up his mouth. “About two days ago."

Hawkman stood and moved toward the door. “I'd suggest you find yourself a good lawyer."

"Wait.” He jumped up and stepped in front of Hawkman. “Will you stay on the case and find Carlotta?” He choked back the tears. “Dead or alive."

"Yes."

Hawkman left Paul's apartment, not sure what to think about the man's responses. He played the innocent quite well, and acted genuinely frightened at the prospect of being accused of his wife's murder.

Tiffany's fingerprints on the suitcase didn't bother him. He figured the child could have handled the bag many times. No reason to even question her about it, since he doubted she'd even remember touching it.

He swung by Tulip Withers’ place, but found it dark and the old blue Honda he'd seen parked in front missing. On the way through town, he drove by Mom's Cafe and spotted her car in a slot near the restaurant. He would catch Tulip at home tomorrow, before she went to work.

This woman baffled him. If she hid the suitcase under the house, why didn't she wipe off the prints? He couldn't fathom anyone being so naive as to think the bag wouldn't eventually be found and the impressions lifted. Tulip didn't appear super smart, but it didn't mean she couldn't think.

As Hawkman drove toward Copco Lake, his thoughts shifted to his wife. He felt pretty good for staying focused on the Carlotta case most of the day. Jennifer would want to hear the latest, and he hoped she'd been successful in concentrating on her writing. They'd compare notes when he got home.

Then he remembered she'd told him to think about questions for the oncologist on Thursday. Several popped into his mind immediately. He felt his jaw tighten at the thought of a cancer doctor. Now he knew how people felt who said it could never happen to them. “It can,” he mumbled and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

When he came in sight of Copco Lake, he took the splintered toothpick from his mouth and dropped it into the ashtray. Driving across the bridge, he rolled down the windows and let the sound of the rushing water soothe his nerves. He took several deep breaths as he turned into the driveway and parked in the garage. As he stepped inside the house, it did his heart good to see Jennifer at her computer. She glanced up and smiled.

"Hi, you're home earlier than I expected. Make any headway on the case?"

"Yep. As a matter of fact, I did."

Her eyes lit up and she left the computer. “I can hardly wait to hear about it."

He grinned. “Let me take a breath or two first."

"You want a drink or a beer?"

"Beer will be fine,” he said, hanging his hat and shoulder holster in the Hawkman corner.

She handed him a frosty bottle, then mixed a gin and tonic for herself. He fingered through the envelopes piled on the counter top as he waited. “Lots of junk mail."

"It seems we get more each day."

They settled in the living room and Hawkman told her about the visit with Paul. “I can't quite figure whether the guy's innocent or guilty as hell."

"Did you check out the business trip with his company?"

"Not yet. It's on my list of things to do."

"If he did go on one and used the suitcase, it would definitely be reasonable to expect his prints on it. And from what you've told me about the man, it seems he cared very much for Carlotta, even though they weren't living together. I think he hoped they would eventually patch things up."

"It's possible. But not sure I trust him. There's something about him that rubs me wrong, but I can't put my finger on it."

"What about Tulip Withers?"

"Going to see her first thing in the morning. She'd already gone to work by the time I finished up with Paul."

"And Delia?"

"None of her prints were on the bag."

"I guess she couldn't have wiped them off without taking the others too."

"True. The fact the police found Paul's, Tulip's and Tiffany's prints on the bag baffles me,"

Jennifer frowned. “Tiffany's?"

"Her prints were near the rollers. She could have touched the suitcase anytime. She doesn't worry me. I'm not even going to question her."

"Good."

"So how has your day gone?"

He hazel eyes glowed. “Great, I wrote two chapters on my new book."

"Excellent."

Picking up a clipboard on the end table, she took a pen from beneath the clip. “As much as I hate to bring it up, let's think about some questions for the oncologist on Thursday. We can add to them each day."

"I've already thought of a few."

Late Tuesday morning, Hawkman left the house and headed for Medford. If Tulip liked to sleep in, he didn't want to roust her too early and risk uncooperative behavior toward this private investigator. He stopped by his office first to pick up the phone bill in case she denied talking with Carlotta as often as it stated.

When he arrived at the complex, he parked in the vacant slot next to Tulip's Honda. He sat for a minute studying the apartment. Having only been in the living room, he didn't know for sure if she had one or two bedrooms. He scanned the other flats in the building and they all appeared about the same size.

Climbing out of his vehicle, he meandered up to the door and knocked. The curtain moved at the window and Tulip's face came into view.

"Hi, Mr. Casey. Hold on, I'll be right there."

He heard the chain lock rattle and the click of the dead bolt turn before the door opened.

"Come on in and have a seat. I hope you have good news about Carlotta."

Hawkman sat down in the chair he'd used at his last visit. Tulip's hair hung in a long braid down her back. Wisps had escaped and were clinging to her cheeks. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a sloppy shirt several sizes too big. Flopping down on the couch, she shoved the loose hair behind her ears with her fingers.

"I wish I had favorable news, but unfortunately, I'm here to ask more questions,” Hawkman said.

Tulip folded her arms at her waist. “I don't know what else I can tell you."

"You told me you only spoke or saw Carlotta occasionally. Yet her phone bill indicates you talked quite often."

She leaned forward. “I told you, I seldom heard from Carlotta,

Hawkman removed a copy of the bill from his pocket and showed it to her. “I've marked the calls coming to your phone number in red. It appears you talked with someone from her number about twice a week up until Carlotta disappeared. Could you explain those to me?"

Tulip studied the bill, then touched her chin. “Oh, those came from Tiffany."

Hawkman raised a brow. “Tiffany?"

"Yes, if you'll notice all these calls came after school let out.” She pointed at the time's listed as she handed him the sheet of paper. “Tiffany liked the food at Mom's and many times Carlotta left money for her grandmother to take her out to eat. Delia usually brought her over to the restaurant because she could get a good meal.” Tulip rolled her eyes. “Even though I'm sure the girl would have rather gone to McDonald's. Tiffany would call before I left for work and ask me about the special of the day. If she liked it, she asked me to save her favorite booth for her and her grandmother. Otherwise, I guess they ended up eating at a fast food place."

Hawkman returned the bill to his pocket, then stared into Tulip's face. “We found Carlotta's suitcase."

She avoided his gaze. “What suitcase?"

"The one I presumed she'd be taking on the trip as it had all her latest purchases inside."

"Where'd you find it?"

"Under the house."

"What!"

"That's right. And it had your fingerprints on it."

Tulip stiffened and her face paled. “How could my fingerprints be on her suitcase? I don't even know which one she took. She has a set containing about three or four bags."

"How'd you know?"

"Because about a month ago, when I stopped by for lunch, Carlotta asked me if I could reach one of them in the top of her closet. She said Paul needed it for a trip and would be by to pick it up later that day. I'm quite a bit taller than her, so I gave it a try and managed to haul it down."

"Do you remember how you grabbed it."

"Yes, I took hold of the handle. I remember because it slipped out of the notches and I whacked myself in the shin as it came down off the shelf. Had a good sized bruise for about a week."

"Guess that explains why your prints were on the bag.” He let out a sigh, pulled down his hat close to his brow, and stood. Then he pointed at the doorway leading from the living room. “How many bedrooms does this apartment have?"

"Two."

"Isn't it more expensive than having one?"

"Oh, yes, but my dad supplies me with lots of meat, so I had to have an extra room to keep a chest freezer. The money I save on beef and pork pays for the extra cost.” She rose from the couch. “I also have a daybed in there in case I ever have company."

"I bought some filets from your dad the other day. He said he'd trained you to be a butcher, but you'd rather be a waitress than help him at his store. How come?"

She shuddered. “I've never liked cutting up dead animals."

Hawkman drove away from Tulip's apartment in a quandary. He wouldn't have believed her tale except for the fact she'd mentioned Paul's trip which tied right in with his story. Whoever pushed the bag under the house only touched the cloth portion or wore gloves. Maybe he didn't wipe off the handle or metal parts on purpose hoping any prints left on the suitcase would draw attention away from him.