Cause for Murder (6 page)

He parked in the front and before he could get a leg out, Mrs. Parker, dressed in a pale blue uniform with a frilly white apron, hurried out the door of the house and headed for the car. Jumping out of his pickup, he scurried around the rear of the Toyota. “Mrs. Parker,” he called.

She whirled around and put a hand to her chest. “Oh, you startled me."

"Sorry,” Sam said holding out his hand as he approached her. “My name's Sam Casey. I don't know if you remember me or not. Maryann and I went to high school together and are now attending the same college."

"Yes, I remember you well. In fact, Maryann told me you and your friend were going to do some repairs on this place.” She turned around and eyed the house.

Sam shifted his position “Maryann said it was all right with you."

She ducked her head. “Umm, but I can't pay you."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Parker. We don't want money. We're doing this to help you."

She peered into his eyes. “Not many around here have that attitude.” Glancing at her watch, she opened the car door. “Oh, my, I better get to work or I'll be late."

Sam pointed toward the porch. “Is it okay if I stack the lumber and supplies under there? Richard and I will be here in the morning to start work.

Hesitating, she lifted a hand and shaded her eyes. “Yes, that'll be okay.” Then she glanced at him. “You'll be here tomorrow morning?"

"Is that inconvenient?"

She waved a hand and shook her head. “No, no, that'll be fine."

He turned and headed for the truck.

After she left, Sam backed into the driveway, donned a pair of gloves and unloaded the lumber.

"My gosh, are you going to rebuild the house?"

The voice startled Sam and he bumped his head as he raised up from underneath the porch. “Ouch,” he said, rubbing his crown.

Maryann hung over the railing, grinning. “Sorry. Didn't mean to alarm you."

"Hi. I just assumed you weren't here after your mom left.” He tugged off the work gloves and stuck them into his back jeans pocket.

"I was in the shower and didn't see you drive up."

Sam scooted a large box of screws out of the truck bed and placed it beside the lumber. He then removed a long span of gutter, along with a couple of sacks filled with brackets and set them under the porch. “Well, that about does it for now,” he said, dusting off his hands. He looked up at Maryann. “Richard and I will be here early in the morning."

"Great. Want to come in for a glass of ice tea?"

He shook his head. “No thanks. I've got lots to do. See you tomorrow."

Maryann, fists on her hips, watched Sam drive away. “Well, he certainly wasn't in a friendly mood,” she muttered. Heading back into the house, she slowly closed the door, her mind still on Sam. When she turned around, her hands flew to her throat and she gasped. “Maduk, you scared me to death."

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

"How'd you get in? The back door's locked."

"You ask too many questions, my daughter.” He circled Maryann, then stepped back and scrutinized her from head to toe. “You've turned into quite a lovely woman."

Maryann felt uncomfortable under his gaze and sat down on the couch. “Why are you here?"

"Where's your mother?"

"She went to work."

"Her hours have changed. Usually she's home now."

"One of the waitresses called in sick and they asked if Mom could come in. She needs the extra money."

His expression turned solemn and he averted his stare to the floor.

Maryann cocked her head and peered at her father. He'd cut his hair and wore a business suit. “You look different."

"I have a new job that requires me to dress this way, but I'd rather be hunting in the woods."

"Does Mom know? She said you hadn't been around much."

"No,” he said, pacing back and forth.

Maryann felt her father's tension. “Why are you here?"

"I need to talk to her about Burke."

She glanced at him in puzzlement. “You know he's dead."

"Yes. Murdered."

Maryann stiffened and her mouth dropped open. “The police gave us the impression he'd died in his sleep."

Maduk's glare cut into her like a shaft. “So they say."

Saturday morning Hawkman decided to go into the office. He figured after he wrapped up the paperwork on a couple of cases, he'd drop by the Parkers’ in Yreka and see if he could help the boys with their refurbishing project. Repairing old houses can be quite a chore and more than meets the eye, especially for a couple of young fellows.

He set to the task as soon as he got behind his desk and worked steadily for several hours. Just as he closed the last file, the phone rang. “Tom Casey here."

"Hey, you work on the weekend, too."

Hawkman laughed. “How's it going, Williams?"

"Glad I caught you in town. If you have a minute, thought you might be interested in dropping by the station. Since you showed an interest in Burke Parker's death, you might want to take a gander at these autopsy reports that came in. Don't have them all yet, but they look mighty interesting."

"Are you saying there's a possibility of something other than natural causes."

"Well, let's say it looks mighty suspicious."

"I'll see you shortly."

This news piqued Hawkman's curiosity. He wondered what had been uncovered. He quickly filed the folders and unplugged the coffee pot. Adjusting his eye-patch, he plopped on his cowboy hat and headed down the stairs. When he reached the detective's office, he found Williams’ door closed and heard his loud voice booming from within. It sounded as if someone was getting a good bawling out. Hawkman lingered in the hallway until two red-faced young officers exited the detective's office. They headed down the hallway without glancing his way.

Hawkman peeked around the door jamb. “Is it safe?"

"Damn kids,” Williams mumbled, waving for Hawkman to come in. “I swear they're graduating them out of the academy earlier and teaching them less."

Hawkman chuckled. “The truth is, we're just getting older."

"Yeah, speak for yourself old man. I haven't aged a bit.” Williams wiped a hand across his mouth, suppressing a grin."

The detective took a folder from the top of his desk. “Poisoning is rare and hard to prove. But the State Crime Laboratory doesn't like what they see and are sending some specimens to a private laboratory where there's a toxicologist. Fortunately, we have a good medical examiner and he'd collected several specimens from Burke's body.” He lifted a sheet of paper from the file and handed it to Hawkman.

After a couple of minutes, he handed it back. “Looks like Burke could have accidentally overdosed on his own medication?"

"That's a possibility, but they've found traces of something else and want to check it out before they come to any conclusions on the cause of death. He also had blistering on the inside of his mouth, stomach and intestines. And extensive liver damage. Probably from alcohol abuse."

"You ever pick up Burke on any alcohol related charges?"

Williams nodded. “Yep. Several.” He pulled another report from the folder. “Over the last five years, we and the Yreka police have run him out of practically every bar in both towns. He tended to get pretty rowdy after several drinks. However, no charges were ever filed, which surprised me."

"Anyone ever talk to his wife about the problem?"

"Only once. It's here in the report. Last summer a neighbor called the Yreka police about midnight and said there was something terribly wrong at the Parker's. She could hear a lot of screaming, then heard a gun go off. When the officers got to the house, they found Burke in the yard with a gunshot wound to his leg. All they could pry out of Mrs. Parker was Burke came home drunk and tried to wreck the house, so she shot at him, but didn't mean to hit him. They had a feeling there was more to it, but she never gave the police any more information about the incident."

"I'm surprised Burke didn't have her arrested?"

The detective shook his head. “Nope. After he sobered up at the hospital, he said he deserved it. Not much you can do if a man won't press charges."

"So how are you going to proceed in this case?” Hawkman asked.

Williams leaned back in his chair and tapped a pencil on his chin. “Not sure. Can't do much until I know the cause of death. However, I might ask a few questions around the neighborhood and see what I can learn about the family. I'll also check out his doctor. We found a couple of prescription drugs in his rented room.” The detective pointed his pencil at Hawkman and grinned. “Be more than happy to have your help. Of course, I can't pay you."

Hawkman chuckled. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped. “Tell me, do you know anything about a Native American man that hung around Mrs. Parker?"

Williams raised his brows. “No. Is this something new?"

"Not sure. Let me get back to you on that."

Hawkman left the police station, his mind whirling with ideas about poisons, herbs, Indians, and a very dysfunctional family. When he parked in front of the Parkers’ house, he saw a shirtless Sam and Richard struggling to carry a large piece of lumber from under the porch. He jumped over a sprinkler the boys had set up to soften the hard soil in the front yard and grabbed the end of the plank.

"What are you guys trying to do?"

"We need to replace a couple of boards in the porch or someone's going to fall through one of these rotten spots and break a leg."

"Sounds like a good plan. Hope you bought screws, they hold better than nails."

"Yeah, I've got plenty,” Sam said.

He helped the boys take up the rotten pieces and replace them with the new lumber.

When they'd finished, Maryann stepped out on the porch and onto the new area. “Boy, that sure makes a difference. It feels solid now, instead of bouncy."

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow with his tee shirt, then slipped it over his head. “That was the idea.” He pointed toward the dangling gutter. “Once we get that fixed, we'll concentrate on sowing a lawn in the front yard, then paint the house. You should have a new looking place in a couple of weeks. You might even want to think about planting something in the front flower beds."

As Richard stood to the side and watched the conversation, he noticed Maryann had eyes only for Sam, but he didn't respond. In fact, Richard thought he saw contempt in his friend's expression.

After Richard slipped on his shirt, he stepped forward. “If you like fresh vegetables, you might consider a small garden. There's plenty of room for one. That is, if you're not going back for summer school."

She turned and gave him a smile. “I'll be here. And you're right. I've never tried my hand at gardening and it might be fun to see if I have a green thumb."

Sam picked up the tools and scooted them under the porch. “Thanks, Hawkman, for your help. I think we'll call it a day."

"You got a lot done.” Hawkman waved and walked toward his 4X4.

Sam motioned for Richard and they jumped into the truck. They'd traveled several blocks before either spoke.

"Did you notice that black car that circled the block several times?” Richard asked.

Sam frowned. “Yeah. Did you ever get a good look at the driver?"

"He looked like a Native American male. His shoulders were very broad and his head almost touched the ceiling of the car. No one I've ever seen before."

"Probably Maryann's dad,” Sam mumbled.

From the look on his friend's face, Richard knew that Sam had let that last comment slip. “I think you know more about Maryann than I do. Why don't you tell me."

Sam glanced at Richard, took a deep breath and related what he knew. When he finished, he let out a sigh. “It's not a pretty story."

Richard brushed some loose hair off his forehead with his fingers and stared out the windshield. “No, it's not. She's more handicapped than I am."

Not knowing how to respond, Sam kept his eyes on the road. It bothered him repeating Maryann's story, but now Richard could form his own decision about her.

"Do you think that might have been her real dad in that car?” Richard asked.

Sam shrugged. “It's possible. Now that Burke's dead, he might feel more comfortable showing his face. But seeing us at the house, he probably didn't want to cause Maryann or her mother any embarrassment. In a small town gossip spreads like wildfire."

He turned into Richard's driveway. “Shall I pick you up at the same time in the morning?"

"It's a lot of trouble for you to come all the way out here and waste your fuel. Seems more sensible for me to pick you up. You're right on the way to town."

"Okay, but only if you let me split the gas cost. After all I'm the one who got you into this mess."

Richard threw back his head and laughed. “I didn't have to accept. But it makes me feel good to do something for someone else. So many people have helped me.” He climbed out of the truck and waved. “I'll see you in the morning."

Sam made a U-turn and headed home. He felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders now that his friend knew the truth. Richard's expression revealed a romantic interest in Maryann and Sam hoped he'd reconsider pursuing a relationship. Perhaps Richard only felt sorry for her. Only time would tell. At least he didn't feel guilty anymore.

He drove into the driveway and parked at the side of the house. When he entered the kitchen, Hawkman and Jennifer were in a serious discussion about Burke Parker. Their remarks piqued his curiosity.

Lilly Parker had worked over ten hours at the restaurant. Her feet felt like clubs. She still had a young firm body and the skimpy uniform she wore while working at the bar revealed a deep cleavage and trim legs. Lilly hadn't told Maryann about her job as a cocktail waitress on the weekends. The money had really helped. She stashed away her tips and any extra she had at the end of the month, in hopes that after Maryann graduated, she'd have enough to buy a newer car. Or maybe even move away from this dump. With Maryann's two friends working on the house as a gesture of kindness, she didn't have to worry about paying anyone to fix up the place before putting it on the market. And with Burke dead, life looked a little cheerier.