Diamonds Aren't Forever (4 page)

"Yeah, that's her name,” Charley said, dragging out a bag of fertilizer and handing it to Hawkman.

"Did they tell you her response?"

"Said she'd get back to them.” He picked up another big sack and threw it over his shoulder, then marched toward the garden.

"Well, at least they've talked with her."

"They said they'd give me a call as soon as they heard anything. I'll give ‘em a week, then bug ‘em some more."

Hawkman grinned. He had no doubt Charley meant what he said. Hoisting the bag onto to his shoulder, he followed the farmer. Charley had purchased a small rake like tool that attached to the tractor and he smoothed the soil as Hawkman walked in front, spreading the fertilizer. Taking turns on the tractor, the men worked until they finished. Then they watered down the soil and Charley commented he'd give the ground a couple of days of good soaking before he planted.

When Hawkman arrived at his own home, he knew he'd sleep well. He felt the tightening of muscles he hadn't used in a long time. It gave him a good feeling. Checking the answering machine, he thought it odd he hadn't heard from Jennifer today. Yet, on the other hand, knowing his wife, Hawkman figured if she had good news, she'd want to give it to him in person when he picked her up at the airport tomorrow. He'd be ready.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to announce we'll be landing in Medford, Oregon, a few minutes ahead of schedule. Thank you for flying with us and have a pleasant stay."

Jamey closed her book and slid it into the side pocket of the large purse sitting on the floor beside her feet. She tightened her seat belt and watched the runway rise rapidly to meet the jet that had carried her from San Francisco.

The rental agency called and informed her the man, Charley Sullivan, who rented the house in Medford, Oregon, had inquired again about purchasing the property. She wanted to rid herself of the place as soon as possible and with an interested buyer at her fingertips, she needed to move fast. But first, she had to get the damn title cleared.

The idea of coming back to this burg gave her an uneasy feeling. But she didn't want to hire some lawyer who'd rake in half the profit and take forever to get things settled. Bob assured her there'd be no danger, so she decided to do it herself. He told her by the time the newspapers printed the legal notice, she'd be long gone. And besides, the police didn't have a thing on her, other than she'd disappeared without a trace.

As far she knew, no one had connected her to Bob. However, a warrant for his arrest hung menacingly over his head for the diamond heist, so he couldn't accompany her to the States. She remembered how he'd thrown back his head and laughed when they were finally reunited. “You were so good,” he'd roared, giving her a big hug. The memory made her smile.

She had collected all the needed papers, plus her legal identification. Bob had acquired a new passport and driver's license in the name of Shirley Ann Noland for her to use on the plane and when she reached Medford.

He'd convinced her if she dyed her hair, covered her brown eyes with green contacts, wore sunglasses during the day and altered her make-up to give her a more subdued look, no one would recognize Jamey Schyler. She let out a sigh and hoped this trip wouldn't take long.

When the plane's landing gear touched the runway, she removed the silver compact from her purse and checked her lipstick. She fluffed the soft ringlets of curls framing her face, then patted the tight French braid looped into a bun at the crown of her head. She slid the clasp of the long pearl necklace around to the back where it belonged, picked up her beige Gaucho hat she'd placed on the neighboring seat and adjusted it over her hair. Inspecting herself one more time, she replaced the mirror into her bag. Once the plane rolled to a stop, she stood with the other travelers and waited for the doors to open. She smoothed down her skirt and adjusted the jacket as she stepped into the aisle.

Jamey Schyler, alias Shirley Ann Noland pulled her carryon bag from the overhead rack and made her way through the crowd. As she headed toward the rental car agency to pick up her car, a tall good looking guy with a cowboy hat and eye-patch came hurrying toward her from the opposite direction. Her heart leaped and she almost tripped over her own luggage as she fumbled in her purse for the sunglasses. One couldn't mistake Hawkman, the very person she'd hoped never to see again.

Quickly regaining her composure, she slipped on the glasses and veered toward the far wall, hurrying past a line of people. Dear God, she never suspected he'd be at the airport. She glanced back and figured he'd not seen her as he appeared focused on something else.

Hawkman hastened toward the gate. Jennifer had called him at dawn informing him she'd gotten an earlier flight and would be home an hour sooner. Her voice echoed with excitement, but she didn't elaborate and gave the excuse she had to hurry. He'd checked the flight number at the main entrance and it had the plane's arrival marked on time.

He made it to the gate just as Jennifer strolled out of the debarking area toting a large round hat box. She greeted him with a hug.

"I've got great news."

Hawkman laughed. “Will you hurry and tell me before I explode."

Her eyes sparkled and a big smile lit her face. “I've signed a contract for my mystery series."

He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a big kiss. “Wow, congratulations. My gut told me you had good news, so I have a bottle of champagne cooling in the refrigerator at home."

She stepped back and grinned. “Super, and you're growing a mustache."

"Yeah. Like it?"

"Very much. You look like a movie star."

He linked her arm in his and they headed for the baggage department. Before they reached the carousel, Hawkman spotted a turmoil at the exit. Someone's suitcase had literally burst open and clothes were strewn over most of the area in front of the doors. A woman wearing a beige suit struggled with her piece of luggage trying to climb over the clutter to the outside. Hurrying to assist, a young man lifted her bag over the mess and pushed open the door. When she turned to thank him, she glanced in Hawkman's direction and dropped her purse, spilling some of the contents onto the floor. The man quickly retrieved it and gathered up the loose items. When he handed them to her, he frowned.

"Ma'am, you okay? You're white as a sheet."

She nodded and threw the strap of the purse over her shoulder. “Uh, oh, yes. I'm just exhausted. Thank you.” Grabbing the handle of her luggage with a shaky hand, she rushed out the door.

Hawkman turned away from watching the woman at the door and concentrated on the variety of luggage plopping onto the merry-go-round. He soon retrieved Jennifer's two suitcases from the pile. “Sure glad you packed light."

She held up the box in her hand. “Got a little carried away when I went shopping in New York. Brought you back a surprise."

He glanced at her and smiled. “You shouldn't have. What is it?” he asked, as if he didn't know.

"I'll show you when we get home."

"Are you too tired to drop by and see Charley's garden?"

"No, but I'm hungry. A bag of peanuts didn't hack it. Let's stop and get a bite to eat first."

"No problem. Anything special?"

"Yes, Mexican."

After a huge meal of burritos, fried rice and tacos they climbed back into the 4X4.

"Now I'm stuffed,” Jennifer said, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Me, too,” Hawkman said, parking in front of Charley's place. Jennifer stared out the window. “Boy, someone really spruced up this little place."

"Yeah, it looks nice."

Then she pointed at the plot next door. “Oh my gosh, Charley's plowed that up too. He could get into deep trouble."

Hawkman laughed. “Thought you'd notice. No problem. He's safe. I found out Jamey also owns the lots on each side of the house. The old farmer is salivating to buy this piece of property.” He told her the story about the tractor stored in the shed, which prompted his trip to the courthouse, where he learned Jamey hadn't filed the deed. “Until the ownership is cleared up, Charley can't purchase this place."

"Has someone contacted Jamey to let her know she has a potential buyer?"

"Charley's bugging the rental agency. So more than likely they've contacted her."

"If you're hoping Jamey will return, you better get that out of your head. She can use the postal service or a lawyer to take care of a deed.” Jennifer frowned. “On second thought, I doubt she'd use a lawyer after the diamond heist episode. But if she did decide to show up in person, could the police arrest her?"

Hawkman shook his head. “They have nothing on Jamey Schyler. I've already checked."

"Then she might make an appearance. She's brazen enough to take the chance.” Jennifer shot him a knowing look. “You'd sure like to see her taken into custody, wouldn't you?"

"Yep."

Shirley Ann Noland had a luxury rental car waiting. Throwing her luggage into the trunk, she glanced toward the baggage department just as Hawkman and his wife came out the door. Fortunately, they headed in the opposite direction toward the parking area. Her anxiety pushed her to leave as quickly as possible, so she slid under the steering wheel of the Cadillac, flipped on the air-conditioning and sped out of the airport. She drove down Biddle Road where she recalled there were several nice motels.

Why did she feel so nervous? Hawkman obviously didn't recognize her when he watched the purse dropping incident at the airport. If he had, he'd have confronted her. Calm down, she told herself. And why worry; he has nothing on me. Other than I disappeared before his eyes. She smiled to herself. Outwitted by a woman. I'm sure his bruised male ego has given him reason enough to want to see me behind bars.

She turned into one of the higher class lodges, parked at the front door and hopped out. Registering as Shirley Ann Noland, she paid cash for three nights, hoping her business would be finished before then. Pulling the car around to unit five, on the first floor, she lugged her suitcase inside and closed the door. Turning the lock, she collapsed onto the bed and let out a long sigh.

She closed her eyes and wondered how Hawkman would feel if they met face to face. Would he recognize her? She thought of the contrast in her appearance today and how she looked when she worked at Curley's. Even without changing her hair and eye color, she had transformed into a mature woman and dressed more sophisticated. But deep in her heart, she knew he couldn't be fooled. His quick glance at the airport might have blown her cover. She needed to complete this transaction at the title company as soon as possible and get back home.

Rolling off the bed, she decided to change clothes and run by the cottage to see how it looked. She'd paid the agency to revamp the place and wanted to make sure she'd gotten her money's worth.

On the drive over, she wondered if Mark, Curly's son, had ever gotten out of school. Nice guy, but he didn't have much to offer. Maybe a life of debt, and a house filled with kids. The thought made her shudder.

She turned the corner toward her little cottage and stiffened. Two men and a woman stood at the edge of the street facing the property. She recognized the tall one with the cowboy hat. “Damn! Hawkman again,” she said aloud. “Is he going to show up everywhere I turn?"

There were no side streets until she passed the house. A U-turn would draw attention, so she drove by with her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hawkman glanced her way. A chill ran down her spine, a sure sign of trouble.

She hardly recognized the little house where she'd resided for a few weeks. The company had done a good job and the place looked terrific. Too bad she couldn't see the inside. It appeared the nosy private investigator and the tenant were friends, so Hawkman had probably warned Mr. Sullivan about the clouded title. She took a deep breath. Clearing this mess up better not take long; she could already smell trouble. Maybe she should forget the whole thing and go back to South America. She gritted her teeth. But why should she? After all, she owned the property.

Turning at the next block, she headed toward the motel. Tomorrow morning she'd be at the recorder's office as soon as they opened. They didn't need any identification, only the deed. She'd deal with the back rental payments deposited in her aunt's name later. That procedure could be handled through the mail or by the rental agency.

She needed to contact Charley Sullivan and settle on a price. Maybe she'd use her alias, Shirley Ann Noland and pose as a representative for Jamey Schyler. Why not? The tenant didn't know what she looked like. Not wanting to chance Hawkman's showing up at the house, she'd make an appointment to meet Mr. Sullivan at a coffee shop or restaurant.

While Charley explained his garden plans to Jennifer, Hawkman stood patiently and glanced at the big white Cadillac cruising by. He watched the car until it turned the next corner and thought it odd, as one usually didn't see many expensive vehicles in this neighborhood. Then he brought his attention back to the conversation. They soon said their goodbyes with Charley promising Jennifer she'd get a nice batch of the crops when they ripened.

After they arrived home, Jennifer placed the hat box on the kitchen counter and warned Hawkman with a shake of her finger, not to peek until she got back in the room. She hooked her hand around the handle of the luggage and pulled it back to the bedroom. He scooted the box around on the cabinet and spotted the word ‘Stetson’ on one side, which piqued his interest.

"Hurry up,” he called. “I want to see my hat."

Laughing, Jennifer hurried back into the room. “Okay, you can look now. I want you to know I had to purchase that box to protect if from getting crushed on the plane."

Hawkman chuckled, then quickly lifted the lid and pulled out the felt Catera; the color of bark with a leather band. “Oh, man, is this ever good-looking.” He immediately removed his old leather hat and plopped on the new one. “It fits perfectly."