Angels in Disguise (22 page)

"Yes. You heard me right."

"All at once?"

"No, spread out through the day."

"When do you start those?"

"Monday."

"Good Lord, how will your body handle all that potent stuff?"

She held up the prescription bottles. “I've been researching the CVP regimen I'll be on. The infusion consists of Vincristine and Rituxin, just like the doctor explained, plus some other stuff, which I'll find out tomorrow. The orals are these: twelve Cyclophosphamide and three Prednisone tablets a day."

"You'll be gagging by evening."

Jennifer grinned. “I think you're right. And for sure by Friday."

"So what are the side-effects of all this stuff?"

She sighed. “Well, let's not go into those. There's plenty, but I might not suffer them all. Let's keep our fingers crossed. In fact, maybe you should read some of the literature the doctor gave me, so you'll be prepared too."

"I will. Where's the packet?"

"It's on the table by our chairs."

He started toward them.

"Wait, before you get involved with those, are you hungry?"

"No."

"Then let's talk about something different for a little while. Tell me how the case is developing. Anything new today?"

"I'll fix us a drink and tell you what happened."

"Good.” She put her computer to sleep and meandered into the living room. Scooting the cancer booklets aside, she flopped down in her chair and waited patiently as Hawkman mixed a gin and tonic.

He handed her the glass and sat down. “Will you be able to have liquor while on chemo?"

"I don't see how a drink in the evening will harm me. Especially after they've pumped me full of battery acid."

Hawkman chuckled. “Me, either."

"Okay, tell me blow by blow what happened when you saw Tiffany."

He related how the child had greeted him, told him about the Gucci, and how he'd pursued the topic. “When she asked me if I'd found her mother's purse, it really threw me. But I decided not to lie and told her I wasn't sure. Then I told her I thought of her as a little angel bringing me clues, also how she'd make a great detective because she observed things and could describe them so accurately."

"You did a great job of distracting her. That was quick thinking."

"Thank you, my love. But how she answered made me suppress a smile. She told me she'd rather be a woman private investigator."

Jennifer laughed. “Good for her."

"Now as far as my examining the handbag, I'm not sure how to proceed."

She gazed at the ceiling tapping her chin with a finger. Then snapped her fingers. “I've got it."

"How?"

"After my chemotherapy tomorrow, it should be close to dinner time. We'll go to Mom's Cafe. Maybe there's some way I can get a glimpse of the purse."

Hawkman raised his brows. “Do you think you'll feel like going out to eat?"

"I understand they give something in the infusion to help cope with the chemo, so I'll probably be fine. Also the doctor gave me a prescription to take today and tomorrow to help my body accept the stuff. So I'll probably do okay the first day or two."

"I just don't want you overtaxed."

Jennifer waved a hand in the air. “I won't be and it will give me something to think about besides cancer.” She pulled her feet up into the chair. “Okay, what happened next?"

"I stopped by my office and found another threatening message on my answering machine. Same muffled voice."

Jennifer's mouth turned down in despair. “Oh, no. Did it mention Tiffany again?"

"Not this time, but it didn't have to. The implication was there. So I called Paul and told him to keep her home another week. We have to make sure no one gets to her."

"This must be a horrible, sick person doing this. Can you tell if it's male or female?"

"No, too distorted. I'd just left Detective Williams, so I haven't told him about the call yet."

She raised a brow. “Why'd you go see him?"

"Oh, just to shoot the breeze.” He again, decided not to tell her his thoughts on the Carlotta case. “I did tell him we weren't getting a divorce. And told him why I'd been such a grouch. It shook him up and he's concerned about you. Told me to tell you his thoughts and prayers are there."

"That's sweet of him."

"He's really a nice guy."

She grinned. “I know. But I don't think you're leveling with me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you two guys don't get together to just blab. You've got something up your sleeve. And you need his help."

"Jennifer, you're uncanny, but I'm not saying any more. I don't have proof of my thoughts and until I do, I'm not talking."

"I'll try to understand. Meanwhile, I'm going to hit the shower, go to bed and read."

She shut down the computer, and headed for the bedroom. Hawkman picked up the literature on the cancer and chemo side-effects. As he read, he felt the hairs prickling on the back of his neck and a tingling sensation radiate down his spine.

Jennifer arose early and dressed, then nudged Hawkman. “It'll take us an hour and a half to drive to Medford. I'm supposed to eat breakfast, and pack myself a lunch."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"No, just get ready and join me in the kitchen."

By the time he joined her, she'd piled bacon, toast, and eggs on his plate, and half eaten her own portion.

"Honey, slow down. We have plenty of time."

She rubbed her forehead. “I know. I'm a nervous wreck. I started the first dose of oral chemo an hour ago. I'm taking it with me, but have to wait two hours after I eat before I can take it again. I'm taking the prednisone with my breakfast."

He stared at her. “How do you feel?"

"Okay, so far."

They were soon on their way to the infusion center. Hawkman parked in the lot and carried her bag of items inside. While she registered, his gaze traveled the length of the room and he sucked in a deep breath. He'd never seen anything like it. People were already in the recliner chairs that lined the walls. Bags of liquid hung from the intravenous carts, and tubes were attached to their arms or led from stents in their chest. Many wore hats or turbans, some slept, while others read or visited.

Jennifer took his arm and brought him out of the stupor. “Come on, the nurse is taking me to my chair."

"You have your own?"

"Honey, go with the flow. We're learning,” she whispered.

They followed the woman, and once seated, the nurse put a yellow identification band around Jennifer's wrist, then took her blood pressure and temperature.

"Everything looks good. Your tests are great, so we might as well get started.” She handed Jennifer a couple of Tylenol and a Benadryl with a cup of water.

"Can I have a copy of the report?” Jennifer asked, after swallowing the pills.

"Sure. I'll get it for you as soon as I get the drip going."

Hawkman turned away as the woman inserted the needle into Jennifer's left wrist vein. He'd seen much worse, why did this bother him? When he glanced at his wife's face, he immediately knew the reason. He loved her more than words could ever tell and he could hardly stand the idea of her body being invaded. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed hard, then pulled a chair next to her. “You okay?"

"Yes, these gals are good. I hardly felt the needle."

He glanced up at the bag hanging from the pole. “That says ‘saline'. Wonder why it goes in first?"

"She said something about flushing my system."

"Interesting."

"Honey, there's no reason for you to stay. Let's find out approximately how long this session will be, then you might as well go do something productive. I asked the gal at the desk if we could use our cell phones in here and she said yes. So, I can call you when I'm about through; then I'll meet you out front."

The nurse returned with Jennifer's copy of the blood test. “Here you go."

"Thank you. Can you tell me how long this session will be?"

She studied the chart. “This is your first time, so we'll take it slow. I'd say six and a half to seven hours. You'll probably be through around four."

Hawkman reached down and scooted Jennifer's bag of goodies closer to the chair. “Can you reach everything?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Okay if I call you in the middle of the day?"

She patted the pocket of her vest. “Yes. I have my cell phone handy."

He leaned over and kissed her lips. “I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

His heart pounding, he left the room and hurried out of the hospital. He could hardly bear the thought of leaving her with strangers, but he had to trust them. They were like angels in disguise, responsible for making her well. He sure couldn't do it.

He climbed into the 4X4 and left the door open a minute to let out the heat. After checking his watch, he reached for the pad of paper on the dashboard and verified the time Elaine's Bouquet opened. He inserted the key, slammed the door shut and pulled out of the lot. Driving toward downtown, he tried not to think about Jennifer, but couldn't help seeing her brave face flash through his head. He knew she must be scared spit less.

As he pulled in front of the cottage, he didn't spot any other vehicles, then saw the sign being flipped over to read ‘open'. Good, he thought. I'll be able to ask questions without a bunch of ladies buzzing around.

He entered the small, but well organized shop. Purses and jewelry were tastefully displayed throughout the one room. He also noticed each item had some sort of mechanism attached so they couldn't be swiped. Good idea, he thought, wandering through the maze of expensive items. Suddenly, a loud boisterous voice greeted him.

"Well, good morning. It's seldom I see a man in the shop this early in the day."

Hawkman turned and faced a short chunky woman, dressed to the hilt in a dark purple pantsuit, white silk blouse and a matching purple tam tilted to the side of her head. Her gray, curly locks twirled around the hat edges, making it appear the hair held it in place. The jewelry around her neck and wrist along with the long dangling earrings all matched her outfit. Her make-up even showed a tinge of purple on her eyelids, cheeks and lips. She had a contagious smile and Hawkman couldn't help but grin.

"You must be Elaine?"

She held out a short stubby hand. “I sure am, honey. And may I ask who you might be?” Stepping back, she gazed into his face. “Oh wait. I know you. You're Tom Casey, the private investigator. Not many men sport an eye-patch and a leather cowboy hat."

He took her hand. “You're right."

"I met your adorable wife, Jennifer, a couple of months ago.” Then she covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh, my, I must quit giving away my secrets. Most men about die when they hear their wives have been in this shop."

He chuckled. “No problem. She can come and look around anytime."

Elaine guffawed. “I love it. Now what can I help you with? Is she having a birthday?"

"I'm really here on business. I'd like to ask about a couple of your customers."

She wiggled a finger in the air. “As long as I don't get anyone into trouble, I'll answer."

"Fair enough. Did you sell a Gucci purse to Carlotta Ryan?"

Her brows furrowed. “I understand the young woman has disappeared."

"Yes. We're trying to locate her and I'm tracking down any lead I can find."

Elaine walked along the counters and rearranged items. “She bought a black leather Gucci about a month and a half ago. I remember it distinctly, because she had her young daughter along. The girl kept telling her mom it's too expensive. Lovely child, but I wanted to wring her neck."

"But she did buy it?"

"Oh, yes, and I gave her a good deal."

Hawkman restrained from asking how much of a bargain. He figured maybe twenty bucks off the going price. “Have you sold an identical purse to anyone else?"

She looked horrified. “Oh, Mr. Casey. I never carry two of the same style in this store. Can you imagine how my customers would feel in this small town if they met each other toting the same handbag.” She put her hands on her ample hips. “That would be disgraceful!"

He stepped back in surprise. “Pardon me. Guess men don't think along those lines."

She pointed a long purple fingernail at him, then threw back her head and whooped. “I wish you could have seen your face."

"So you obviously didn't sell another purse that even looked like the one you sold Mrs. Ryan."

"No. I don't even carry a similar style.” Then her expression turned solemn. “Has there been any word from Carlotta?"

Hawkman shook his head. “I'm sorry to say, nothing."

"Oh my, it certainly sounds like foul play."

"Hard to say. We'll keep looking."

"I hope she shows up."

"Thank you for your help."

She raised a finely arched eyebrow. “But you only asked me about one customer."

"You answered my other question when you said you never sold but one of each style."

"I see.” She narrowed her eyes. “It sounds like you've spotted the purse."

"Possibly, but it could mean someone bought one just like it somewhere else."

"True. But if you get a chance to look inside the handbag, you'll find my little brand burned in one of the corners."

Hawkman gave her a questioning look. “What do you mean?"

"Hold on a minute and I'll show you.” Disappearing behind a curtained door, she soon reappeared carrying a long thin metal rod with the circumference of a pencil. Picking up one of the purses on display, she carried it to the counter where Hawkman stood. She pointed at the end of the rod as she held it near his face. “See this?"

He studied the small branding iron. “Yeah. It's got the initials ‘EB’ on it, but the letters are backwards."

"Right, so that when I put the heated rod down on the leather they brand my store initials into the surface.” She pulled the tissue out of the bag she'd carried forward and held it toward the light so Hawkman could see down into the bottom. “Look closely at the right hand corner. See my little identification?"

"Hey, that's really clever. It's so small no one would notice. Do the companies mind you doing that?"