Diamonds Aren't Forever (3 page)

He didn't know why he cared whether Jamey came back or not. The police seemed reluctant to do a damn thing. But after reading the reports on the heist, he surmised Jamey and the diamond courier were in cahoots. And somehow, she'd smuggled enough rare jewels out of the country to set herself up for life. The authorities weren't concerned since no evidence ever materialized connecting Jamey to the robbery. And as far as they were concerned, she hadn't broken any laws. The last he heard, Oklahoma still had a warrant out for her lover's arrest, so he doubted the man would take the chance of coming back to the States. Therefore, Jamey would travel alone. The thought intrigued him. He'd definitely keep his eyes and ears open.

The next morning, Hawkman loaded the falcon and her portable perch into the old truck and headed toward the Clifford place where the hawk loved to hunt. He knew the young deaf lad, Richard, still had about six weeks before college let out. When he pulled up their driveway, he spotted Uncle Joe painting a white picket fence around the farm house.

Joe stopped working and approached Hawkman's vehicle with an extended hand. “Hey, how's it going? Haven't seen you in quite awhile."

"Thought I'd take Pretty Girl out for a short hunt. Boy, you've really got this place fixed up."

"I'm going to surprise Richard when he gets home. I haven't told him about the fence. He'll love it."

"How's the boy doing?"

Joe beamed. “He made the Dean's List at the University. I'm so proud of him."

"Always knew he had a lot on the ball. Give him my congratulations."

"Will do. Good talking to you."

Joe stepped back and waved as Hawkman started his truck and headed for the small hill where Pretty Girl always found a good meal.

When Hawkman returned home, he let the falcon sit on the railing of the deck as he cleaned out the aviary. He supplied her with fresh water and put a little extra food in her container. But he doubted she'd eat anymore since he'd spotted her earlier through his binoculars devouring a dead squirrel. Right now, she seemed mighty content just preening herself.

He placed Pretty Girl on her perch inside the clean cage, then padlocked the screen door. After hanging the broom on the nail next to the cage, he went into the house and called Detective Williams.

"Hey, detective, don't tell me you're in the office going through reports. I thought they hired you some help."

"Yeah, but she can't sign my name. So to what do I owe the honor of this call?"

"Got to thinking about Jamey Schyler and her involvement with the Oklahoma diamond heist. Have you heard any more about the case? Did they ever make an arrest?"

"As far as I know, it's still open and there's a warrant out for the diamond courier. I'm not sure if the insurance finally paid off or not. So why the sudden interest?"

"Charley Sullivan is renting Jamey's house and wants to buy it. But I've discovered the title's clouded. Ms. Schyler never recorded the deed and it's still in her aunt's name."

"Yeah, go on. I know there's more to this than what you're indicating."

"Just wondered if she ever showed up, is there any cause to take her into custody?"

"Nope, not unless she came in toting those jewels. And you can pretty well bet those gems are long gone and they're living off the proceeds. Or if she brought her courier along. But that shrewd lady wouldn't go that far. She's not going to risk her keeper."

"Not even with Carl Hopkins swearing she helped him with the heist? Or what about the two diamonds she pawned off on the jeweler, Ludwig Kaufman? Wouldn't there be some charges there?"

"No proof on the Hopkins deal, and since they retrieved all but forty or fifty of those diamonds, the company wrote them off, thankful for what they got back. As far as Kaufman's concerned, he had a massive heart attack and passed away shortly after Jamey disappeared. But he'd already turned the stolen gems over to us before his death. So he's not here to press charges. Sounds like you're grasping at straws."

"Well, she's a greedy little broad and since there's a buyer for the property, I think she'll unload it as fast as she can. So, there's the possibility Ms. Jamey Schyler might show up in Medford to clear the title."

"Why would she do that if a lawyer could handle the transaction."

"Knowing Jamey, I doubt she'd trust anyone in this neck of the woods, especially if she saved money and time by doing it herself."

"You make an interesting point. However, we have no reason to go after her. So, it's moot to even think about."

"You're probably right. Just thought I'd check and see if anything new had developed."

"Sorry I can't help you out. But you might let me know if she happens to show up in town. We should keep an eye on her in case she has more diamond heists on her mind."

Hawkman chuckled. “Indeed, I will."

Hawkman decided to leave the office early and stop by Charley's to see if he had gotten the small tractor running. Also, he wanted to encourage the old fellow to drop in at the rental agency. He needed to let them know he meant it when he mentioned purchasing the place, so they'd move on the matter.

But first, he'd go by the recorder's office and talk to Sheila. He closed the journal he'd been working on, stood and stretched. He felt the stuffiness of the office without a breeze blowing through, especially when the bakery ovens from below were running full bore. Soon, he'd have to turn on the air-conditioning. Strolling over to the open window, he looked out. A dove nestled on her familiar perch glanced at Hawkman without fear. She continued rearranging the new twigs her partner deposited. Closing the window gently, to avoid startling her, it amazed him how the eggs remained in such a disheveled nest.

Arriving at the courthouse, he met Sheila coming out of the office. “Is this a bad time?"

"No, I'm going to the lounge for a break. Want to tag along?"

"Sure."

Sheila flopped down on the couch and let out a groan. She removed her shoes and propped her feet on the coffee table. “I never should have bought these clogs. They didn't feel right when I tried them on. Oh well, I'll pay for my sins."

Hawkman grinned and sat down on a chair opposite her. “Yep, you should have left them at the store."

"So, what you need?” she asked.

They'd been friends for years and Sheila had helped Hawkman in the past with many details on clients’ property problems. He trusted her explicitly.

"When I checked out that property the other day, I didn't tell you Rachel Smith had passed away. Charley Sullivan, the man who's renting the place, wants to buy it. But it will be impossible until the title is clear and put into Jasmine Louise Schyler's name. So what's the procedure?"

"So why are you interested in this?"

Hawkman squirmed in his seat. “Ms. Schyler left the area under suspicion and fled to South America. I'd like to know if or when she shows up to clear the title."

Sheila raised a brow. “I see. Well, does Ms. Schyler hold the deed? Or is the property involved in the estate proceedings?

"I don't have the foggiest idea."

"Let's assume the aunt deeded the property before her death. That would simplify things. Ms. Schyler doesn't have to appear in person. All she'd have to do is send it in."

"Well, obviously, she hasn't done that yet,” Hawkman said.

"A lawyer can also take care of this type of proceeding without her being present."

"True, but I doubt this young woman wants to get involved with a lawyer."

"That bad, huh? So what's her problem?"

"Unfortunately, nothing we can prove, only speculate."

"If she plans on selling the place, the only thing that would force her to appear in person is an encumbrance on the property by someone with a similar name. The title company would require her to return and prove she's the person on the deed. She'd accomplish this with a social security number, personal information and signature."

"So everything can be done through the mails as long as there's no encumbrances on the title?"

She nodded. “Right."

He sighed. “Well, if you see any action taking place with the Smith property, mind giving me a call?"

"Sure. No problem."

He gave her a business card and wrote his cell number on the back. “I really appreciate this. You can always reach me at this number."

She put the card in her purse, then pushed herself up from the couch and moaned as she struggled into her shoes.

Hawkman left and drove to Charley's. He spotted the old farmer riding the tractor on one of the extra lots, twisting in the seat as he kept an eye on the small disk mechanism which he lifted when he made a turn. Hawkman circled the house and parked in the back under the shade of one of the large oak trees surrounding the small cottage. He made his way to the edge of the field and waited at the head of the furrow. Charlie glanced up and smiled.

"This machine's a gem,” he called over the noise of the engine. He brought the tractor to a halt beside Hawkman. Taking off his hat, he wiped his head with a small towel hanging from the steering wheel and climbed off.

"Sounds like you have the engine humming,” Hawkman said.

"Didn't take me long at all. The biggest problem was findin’ the plow.” He waved his hand. “After searchin,’ I finally found the only one in town. Otherwise, a catalog order would've taken weeks to arrive.” He pointed toward the two chairs under the oak tree. “Let's go sit for a few minutes. These days are gettin’ mighty warm, especially when you're in the direct sun. And the tractor's too small to rig up an umbrella over the top."

Charley pulled a large thermos from under the chair before sitting down. “Want a drink of water?"

"No thanks, I'm fine right now,” Hawkman said, staring at the plot of tilled ground. “I'd like to try out that little rig. Looks like you've made a lot of headway. You going to do the other side of the house too?"

"Not this year. Too much shade.” He pointed toward the large trees. “Need to thin out those big limbs and branches so the sunshine can get through. But sure don't want to cut ‘em down. They'll keep my house cool. Then I'll have to figure out a crop that likes the shade."

Hawkman rubbed his chin. “You talked anymore to the rental company about wanting to buy this place?"

Charley shook his head. “Haven't had time. But I plan on running over there tomorrow to let them know I'm really interested. I'd rather pay a mortgage than rent to some gal in South America."

"Good point,” Hawkman chuckled. “The more you bug them, the sooner they'll have to contact the owner or get into legal trouble.” He stood. “Think I'll try the tractor out. Maybe I can get a few furrows done while you rest. Anything I need to know about how it works?"

"Nope, easy as pie. The lever for the disk is on the right side."

Hawkman felt like a kid trying out a new toy. Surprisingly, when he sat down on the seat, his long legs didn't get in the way and his feet rested easily on the side channels. Once the engine turned over, he pulled up the disk and turned the tractor down the next row. Charley had it right; this worked a hell of a lot easier than using a rototiller.

He labored for a couple of hours and finally pulled to a stop at the end of the furrow. He shut down the machine and strolled over to where Charley sat with his head slumped on his chest, fast asleep. Hawkman plopped down in the other chair, pushed back his hat, flipped up his eye-patch and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “Just about done,” he said softly, hoping to avoid making Charley jump out of his seat.

The farmer snorted a couple of times and opened his eyes. “Got me a nice little nap while you sweated it up."

Hawkman laughed. “Why you old buzzard, I think you had that all planned."

Charley snickered, stood and stretched his back. “Not a bad idea, I'd say. Never worked with my kids though. They moaned and whined from the minute they boarded the tractor.” He glanced out over the land. “Why, I'll be damned. You almost finished."

"Thought I'd better get as much plowed as possible since Jennifer's due home in a couple of days. At least I can show her what we've accomplished while she's been gone."

"I can finish this up tonight and tomorrow we can throw some fertilizer on the soil and wet her down. Should be able to start planting in a few days."

"Sounds good. I'll leave you to finish and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. In the morning, go down and badger the rental people and see if you can get something started on buying this place."

"I'll be there when they open their doors."

Hawkman headed for home. He felt somewhat guilty at pushing Charley to hassle the rental agency. But that's where he had to get the ball rolling. Once the title company cleared everything, Charley could purchase the property. He questioned his own motives for being so persistent. Even if Jamey showed up, he'd only be able to stand back and watch. Who knows, she might choose to come into town incognito. In that case, she'd be long gone before he ever discovered her presence.

The next day at noon, anxious to hear what Charley had to say about his trip to the rental agency, Hawkman changed into work clothes in the confines of his office and headed out. He parked at the back of the house and had just climbed out of his 4X4 when Charley emerged from the back door.

"Hey there, Hawkman. Just got back from town."

"How'd it go?"

Charley meandered down the stairs shaking his head, then turned and strolled toward the wooden lean-to. “What's happened to the human race these days? Seems they don't understand just plain ole straight talk. I bet I told three different people in that office I wanted to buy this piece of property and needed to know what steps I should take. None of ‘em acted like they understood. Probably ‘cause they'd lose a rental if this place sold."

"Did you make any headway?” Hawkman asked. following him into the shelter.

"Yep, I finally spoke with the head man who said they'd talked with Ms. Jamey what's-her-name in South America."

This piqued Hawkman's interest. “Schyler."