Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (13 page)

"I'm here,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “I figured my dear wife could handle those busy bodies."

"Can't you report them to the head people?” Hawkman asked.

He shook his head. “We don't want to cause a problem, nor do we want Maggie to get the reputation as a trouble maker."

"Yes, but if they're trying to pick your lock, they should be reported."

Maggie flopped down on the overstuffed chair. “If they ever make it inside, I'll talk to the authorities."

"Do be careful about threatening people. If something happened to one of those women, you'd be the first the police would question."

"No one heard me."

"I could hear you almost the moment I stepped out of the elevator. If I recognized your voice, anyone near this room would have."

Maggie waved a hand in the air. “I'm not worried. Those two drive us all crazy. It'd be no loss if one of them disappeared."

George jerked his head around. “Don't talk like that. We've lost enough friends."

She made a face. “They are not my friends. I can't stand either of them. No one in this wing likes those two. They're crazy, and should be in a mental institution."

"Settle down Maggie, before your blood pressure goes up.” George said, reaching over and stroking her arm. “You shouldn't get so upset."

She pushed his hand away. “I'm fine. Don't preach to me. The next time I catch them near my place, I'll clobber them with my walker."

Hawkman observed George's spouse. He'd never seen her in this state. Margy and Jessie better not come around again, because Maggie sounded like she meant what she said. He'd heard of strange incidents happening in old people's homes, but had never witnessed these problems until he got involved in this case.

"Okay, George, I'm doing the watch today, so you can go home or run your errands."

"Sorry you had to come upon this situation. Hopefully, it will settle down for the rest of the afternoon, and you can enjoy some peace."

"Don't bet on it,” Maggie grumbled. “I'll have a dozen people poking their heads in the door, and asking about the commotion."

"It'll keep you busy,” Hawkman said, smiling.

George gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek. “Be a good girl, my darling. I'll see you tonight. Is there anything you'd like me to pick up before I return?"

"No, I'm fine."

Once George left, Maggie headed for the bathroom. “Got to freshen up a bit, Mr. Hawkman.” She suddenly stopped, jerked her head around and nodded her approval. “You look okay to attend a lecture on aging gracefully."

Hawkman groaned. “Whatever you want to do."

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George returned shortly after six and Hawkman greeted him with a grin. “You missed a great lecture on aging gracefully."

Hampton wrinkled his forehead. “I don't believe a word you say."

"Have a good evening,” Hawkman said, chuckling. “I don't think Maggie has anything else planned."

He left the premises and headed toward Copco Lake. It bothered him having no clue at what might be going on at Morning Glory Haven. When he arrived home, Jennifer met him at the door and frowned.

"What's the matter?” he asked.

She ran her fingers across his forehead and down his cheek. “Your worry wrinkles are showing. They don't do your strong, tanned face justice. Even the little dimple in your chin doesn't show. So what's going on?"

"Have you taken up a new hobby of face reading?"

She gave him a hug. “No, but a woman can read her man's expression after so many years. I could tell the minute you walked in the door things weren't right."

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Guess, I better always stay on the straight and narrow, as I wouldn't have a chance telling you any white lies."

She shook her head. “Nope."

"What's cooking? It smells delicious."

"A roast, but it won't be ready for another thirty minutes. I didn't expect you home quite so early. So you've got time to tell me what's going on.” She took the valise from his hands and placed it on the counter. “Where do you want to sit?"

"The living room. Let me get a beer, first."

They settled in their matching chairs and their cat, Miss Marple, strolled in and wound her way around Hawkman's boots. “Okay, Miss Prissy, what do you want?"

She jumped upon his lap, banged her head against his chin a couple of times, then settled on his thighs.

"I wish she'd find another way of expressing love. Sure glad you don't do that."

Jennifer laughed. “That's our kitty."

He flipped up his eye-patch and rubbed his eyes. “This is the most clueless case I've ever encountered. In fact, I'm not sure any murders have been committed. I'm eager to hear the results on Mrs. Owens’ autopsy."

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"Probably won't hear anything until next week, and those reports will just be the preliminaries. I don't know how deep of an examination they'll do. I'm lucky Dr. Grahm even told me he'd put in a request to Ms. Owens’ physician."

"So you didn't hit it off with him very well?"

Hawkman looked at the ceiling. “Not at all. He showed his disgust at the first meeting we had. I have a gut feeling he isn't a competent doctor, and he knew I'd already figured it out. I think he's covering his butt."

"What do you think he's done?"

"Probably nothing. He's just a fill-in, which tells me he's probably getting a salary for his services, even though he says he volunteers. What's hard for me to swallow is believing all those people died of heart failure and none of the relatives were aware of any cardiac problems. Mighty fishy, if you ask me."

"You think this doctor is afraid of getting sued?"

"I'm sure it's entered his mind that I might suggest to the family of any of the deceased patients he'd seen, to throw a malpractice charge against him."

Jennifer slid to the front of the chair, concern written across her face. “That's a pretty strong statement."

He exhaled loudly. “He knows I'm an investigator, and he gave the impression he's not comfortable with any type of law officer."

"I don't imagine any physician would be, under the circumstances. Are you any closer to figuring out what's happening?"

Stretching his arms above his head, he let his hands drop to the armrest with a loud slap, sending Miss Marple fleeing from his lap. “No, and it's really bugging me."

"What's on your schedule for tomorrow?"

"I have an appointment with George and Maggie's doctor."

She furrowed her brows. “Why do you want to see their doctor?"

"I need to know about their medical conditions. It still puzzles me why Maggie is at Morning Glory Haven and not at her own home with round the clock nurses to take care of her needs. Money is no problem."

"Have you talked to George about it?"

"He gives me a song and dance story about Maggie not wanting strangers in the house. She supposedly doesn't like young women combing through her stuff. However, she told me this afternoon she's going to hire a cleaning woman, as George doesn't keep the house like she thinks it should be. A bunch of nonsense if you ask me, but he's fallen for it hard."

Jennifer shrugged and rose. “Let's eat."

Hawkman watched her cross the room and into the kitchen. He moved to the bar and slid onto one of the stools. “I figured you'd have a comment."

She took the roast out of the oven and placed the hot pan on a cold burner on top of the stove. Her mouth was set in a straight line as she took a couple of plates from the cabinet. The solemn expression indicated to Hawkman she had some deep thoughts on the subject.

"Okay, sweetheart, what's going through that beautiful head of yours."

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I'm not sure I agree with you on the idea that Maggie not wanting strangers in the house is nonsense."

"Give me your explanation; maybe you'll change my mind."

Jennifer dished up their meals and handed Hawkman his, then scooted his silverware toward him. She sat down on the opposite side of the kitchen bar with her dinner and placed a large napkin on her lap. He sat patiently until she settled.

"Anytime you're ready,” he said.

She sighed. “If I put myself into Maggie's shoes, I can understand why she wouldn't want a group of people running around her house. She probably has some expensive items in her home and the thought of having one of them stolen would prey on her brain. Having to watch every move of paid help could be quite taxing, or she might feel she'd have to hide everything before they showed up. There'd probably be a big turnover in the servants or nurses and the whole thing could become a real pain in the neck, as she'd be in constant worry. Hired workers can sometimes be more trouble than they're worth, especially day in and day out.” Jennifer took a bite, then looked into husband's face. “Having a housekeeper once a week would not present such problems. Those are my comments on the subject."

He nodded. “Very good ones, too. I hadn't looked at it from a woman's point of view."

She smiled. “See how much you need me?"

Laughing, he reached across the kitchen bar and patted her hand. “I couldn't live without you."

The next morning, Hawkman checked the charge on his recorder, placed it in his pocket, then left for Medford around nine. The appointment with the Hamptons’ doctor wasn't until eleven, but he wanted to give himself plenty of time. Even though he felt familiar with that area of town, he didn't know the exact location of Dr. Bunker's office.

When he reached the complex of medical buildings, he had to circle the parking lot several times before he finally spotted a car pulling out. He debated about taking in the briefcase, but decided against it. After removing the Hamptons’ permission slip, he slid it back under the passenger's seat.

When he entered the office, the young receptionist glanced up, then immediately averted her gaze to the surface of the desk. Hawkman smiled to himself. He must remember to ask Jennifer why the eye-patch seemed to intimidate all females.

Approaching the young woman, he noticed her posture shifted and she appeared uneasy. “My name's Tom Casey and I have an appointment with Dr. Bunker."

She quickly pulled her book toward her without ever making eye contact. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Casey. You're the next patient."

Hawkman made his way to a vacant chair, and had no more sat down when a woman came out of a hallway which must have led to the examination rooms. The receptionist got to her feet and disappeared down the aisle, then returned within a few minutes and called his name.

"Follow me, Mr. Casey.” She stopped in front of a door with ‘Dr. Karl Bunker’ stenciled across the wood. “He'll see you in his office.” Knocking lightly, she then turned the knob and poked her head inside. “Mr. Casey is here."

"Thank you, Amanda, have him come in."

She gestured for Hawkman to enter, then left.

A distinguished looking man, probably in his early fifties, with graying brown hair stood. Hawkman guessed him to be approximately six feet tall and from the looks of his well muscled shoulders, he more than likely worked out. When the doctor smiled, Hawkman figured all the women in the office swooned. His white coat with the stethoscope still looped around his neck, gave the appearance of a super model advertising the latest lab attire.

"Hello, Mr. Casey,” he said extending his hand. “It's a pleasure meeting you in person. George and Maggie have spoken highly of you."

"Thanks. I'm assuming one of the Hamptons called and explained why I wanted to speak with you, and gave their permission. I also have written authorization."

"Yes, have a seat. I would like to have the consent for my files."

Hawkman handed him the sheet with the Hamptons’ signatures.

The doctor sat down and dragged two very large folders toward him from the corner of the desk. “I pulled their medical files so we could discuss them. Before we get started, I'm very curious why you're interested in their files since they're the ones who hired you to investigate the deaths of some of their friends."

"My profession is similar to yours. I need background checks. You need to know a person's symptoms and medications before ever examining him or her. I need to know who's hired me and why."

He nodded, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. “Which one would you like to start with?"

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Hawkman pointed at the files. “The one on top will be fine."

Dr. Bunker lifted the folder and placed it in front of him. “This is George's. Where would you like to begin?"

Hawkman removed his recorder from his shirt pocket and flipped it on. “Hope you don't mind if I use this; it's more efficient than my notes."

He looked a little surprised, but nodded. “Sure, no problem. I use one myself."

He put the small black box on the edge of the desk. “I know Mr. Hampton has several medical problems. One being diabetes. What are the others?"

The doctor let out a sigh. “I really think he should be at Morning Glory Haven with Maggie. His health has gone downhill for the past two years. I worry about him being at home alone."

"Why?"

"George is a type two diabetic, but he's not good about keeping track of his blood sugar. He should be taking insulin based upon the readings. I'm afraid he doesn't pay much attention, and could go into a coma. He's very careless. Always ordering more insulin because he's lost a dose by misplacing his pen or dropping it and breaking off the needle. Without Maggie at home with him, he appears very reckless. So what I did was order an extra batch so she has it at her apartment. That way, when George is there, she can take his blood count and administer the insulin, or at least make sure he gets what he needs."

Hawkman leaned forward. “I read up on the disease. Why can't he use an insulin pump?"

"Good question. I've even mentioned it to George, but he doesn't want to fool with it. He said he knows how to use the pen, but these new fangled gadgets with all the digital numbers blow him away. He doesn't trust the technology and is afraid it might pump more into his body than he needs, sending him into shock."