Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (17 page)

"Oh, yeah. We've worked on and solved many cases together. You couldn't have a better man on your side,” Williams said.

He then continued his conversation with Mackle. “You say the apartment has been cleaned and wiped down with a disinfectant?"

"Yes, we always go in and do that after a person passes on. We have to get it ready for the next occupant. Little did we realize we had anything but a natural death on our hands."

"What did you do with Mrs. Owens’ belongings?"

"We still have those, as the daughter lives in another town and the doctor informed her of the autopsy, explaining it would be several days before she could pick up her mother's body. So she asked us to store the items."

"I'd like my lab group to go through them. Do you have the daughter's phone number? It would be good to get her permission; then I wouldn't have to go through a judge."

Mackle nodded. “Understood. I'm sure my Business Manager has the information; she's been instructed to cooperate with the police."

"We're interviewing your employees as we speak and will do this throughout the next twenty-four hours so we can reach each one. We'll be around for several days and would like you to follow any schedules you've set up, and keep things as normal as possible. The only thing we might ask is to have the residents remain in their apartments, so we can find them when we're ready to talk to each individual."

"That might be a little hard to do, but we'll do the best we can,” Mackle said.

"I'll check in with you on a regular basis."

The detective and Hawkman left the office and stood in the hallway.

"Any idea what's going on here?” Williams asked.

"Not yet. I'll let you know when I get a handle on it."

Williams put a fist on his hip as he surveyed the area. “Sad to see the reputation of such an exquisite place go down due to a murder investigation. It will plummet for a while."

"Yes, I know and I'm hoping none of the staff are involved,” Hawkman said. “That will help it rebound."

The detective nodded. “I'm at loss why autopsies weren't ordered on the last few deaths. I'm glad you stepped in and insisted on this one."

"Yeah, me too. I'm going to stop by the patient coordinator's office and get a list of all the diabetics in this wing of the home. It might give us some clues. Whoever did this has access to insulin."

"Good idea. Make a copy for me."

"Will do."

The two men separated, Hawkman went to Lisa Montgomery's office and Williams left to check the progress of the investigation.

Once Hawkman finished persuading Ms. Montgomery to bend the rules and give him a list of the diabetics, he folded his copy of names and slipped them into his pocket, then dropped off the other to Detective Williams. He then went up the elevator and headed down the hallway where he spotted Maggie and George coming out of the room across the hall.

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Hawkman stood at Maggie's doorway, with his arms crossed, as she and George made their way across the corridor. “I can see you two don't follow orders very well."

She glared at him. “Mr. Casey, these people are scared to death. I decided to go over and let them in on the scuttlebutt about what's going on."

He stepped aside so they could enter the room. “You should leave that to the authorities. We're not even sure there's been any foul play. If you used the word murder, you've probably scared them worse."

"People should know the truth. They handle situations better."

Hawkman pointed a finger at her nose. “Okay, you've done your good deed. Now I want you to stay in your room, take stock of the insulin and write it down. Do you keep it in the refrigerator?"

She shook her head. “No, only if it's been opened. They've improved it so much; I can keep the extra in my dresser drawer."

"I'll be back in about an hour and I expect a list.” He diverted his attention to George. “Do you bring insulin here for Maggie to store?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Do you know what you have at home?"

"Not off the top of my head."

"Tonight take inventory, just so you know what you have."

He nodded. “Will do."

Hawkman stepped out of the apartment and continued down to the first floor in hopes of finding Detective Williams free. Noticing the entry area had cleared except for a couple of guards at the door, he asked the officers if the detective had left.

They gestured toward the craft room. “He's set up headquarters in a small room down that hallway."

Hawkman gave a wave. “Thanks.” He crossed the room and moved down the corridor. When he entered the opened door, he found Williams sitting at a small table talking to a couple of police detectives. He glanced up when Hawkman entered.

"Come on in and put in your two cents worth."

Hawkman scooted up an empty chair and sat down. “So what's your first line of attack on this problem?"

Williams hooked a thumb toward the two men sitting next to him. “These guys are getting ready to split up the list of diabetics and ask a few pertinent questions. Then Dr. Grahm will be here in an hour. He volunteered to come in and assist as much as he could."

Hawkman raised his brows. “That's interesting."

"Really, why?"

Not wanting to sound negative, Hawkman skimmed the surface of his meeting with Grahm. “I think he's petrified at being in this predicament. He'll more than likely be very cooperative."

Williams leaned back and looped his arm over the nearby chair. “You think he's guilty of anything?"

"I doubt it. He's just in deeper than he ever thought a so called volunteer job would get him."

The detective came forward and put his hands on the table. “Give it to me upfront. I know you've got some idea of what's going on. Clue me in."

Hawkman raised his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his hair, then pushed it back on his head. “I wish I had an inkling, but right now I don't have the vaguest idea who's doing these people in."

Williams raised his brows. “People? I thought there was just one."

"I think more have died under suspicious circumstances, but there's no proof unless you want to exhume some bodies.” He gave him the rundown on the deaths of the last six months.

The detective hit the table with his fist. “Damn, sounds like we've got a serial killer on our hands."

"Could be. I figure one or two of those deaths were natural. However, I think the others were murder, and the killer is right under our noses."

"Why do you think so?"

"The victims were all diabetic. They gave themselves their insulin shots. I could understand a mistake or two, but not with all of them. It appears someone was fooling with their dosages."

"What about the staff?"

"I've chatted with each of the employees at one time or the other. None of them aroused my suspicions. However, I haven't done an in depth investigation on any of them yet. One could very well be skilled at killing people."

"What about the outside contractors?"

"All the people who work here are in-house employees. The only one contracted is the yard maintenance and none of them come inside."

Williams shook his head. “What the hell would be the motive for getting rid of old people?"

"Some weird cases have occurred throughout history, but many boil down to putting people out of their misery. Doesn't make sense in this scenario because some of these just had bad arthritic conditions or were at a phase in their lives where they didn't want the responsibility of a home and yard anymore. Oh, sure, each one had some sort of medical problem, but not to the point of dying the next day, if you know what I mean.” Hawkman took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, all the people who have passed away are somehow connected to my clients."

Williams tilted his head and stared at him. “You're joshing, aren't you?"

"I wish.” He then related the story of how George had hired him. “So it really doesn't surprise me, as they thought something didn't smell right. I went back a few months in the books with the patient coordinator and we discovered several deaths had occurred within a six month period. I can't put a finger on a motive."

"Did the victims have something in common besides being diabetic?"

"They knew each other. Maybe not as close friends, but acquaintances."

The detective ran his hands over his face. “I can see right now, we've got a complicated mess on our hands."

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"I worry about getting any reliable information from these people.” Hawkman raised a hand and wiggled it in front of him. “Many don't have good eyesight and half the time they don't remember from one minute to the next. It's not going to be an easy task."

"What about the ones who are delinquent in their bills?” Williams asked.

"I've checked it out. Everyone is paid up, even the ones who passed away had their payments up to date. Mackle is worried many residents will move out after they hear about the murder investigation, and he won't be able to fill the apartments, causing a financial burden on the facility. So mark him off your list. He'd have no reason to kill off a paying customer."

"What's in these other wings of the building?"

"One holds the assisted living group and the other one is Alzheimer patients. The Alzheimer section is completely locked off from the other two groups. There's no way they can even get into either section without being discovered immediately."

Williams slapped a hand on the table. “You have any suggestions on where the hell we should begin?"

"I'm hoping Mackle can get it through the residents’ heads to stay in their rooms after dinner, so you can find them. Why don't you station a couple of men in each hallway, so if someone leaves they can keep an eye on their apartment and make sure no stranger enters the place. Try to keep the daytime events going so the people don't get too nervous."

"Can you hang around awhile and show us the ropes, since you're more familiar with the territory?"

"Sure."

Williams rose. “Let's go talk to my men and get a routine scheduled."

The two headed toward the entry where the police officers had gathered.

Maggie finished jotting down the insulin supplies she had stored in the dresser drawer, and pushed her way into the living room where George had the television on. She waved the paper. “Okay, I've got it all written out for our dear Mr. Casey."

He twisted around in the chair. “Good girl."

"George, turn off that boob tube. We need to talk."

He frowned. “What about?"

She hobbled toward the couch and flopped down. The paper still in her hand, she held it up. “About all of this."

He turned off the television and tossed the remote on the coffee table. “Yeah, what's the problem. Hawkman said the police would want a list."

"Well, it's not just about the inventory of the medications. I'm sick of the whole thing. I'm tired of being followed around, told I can't leave my quarters and scolded like a kid. I want you to let Mr. Casey go."

George's mouth dropped open. “Why? He's protecting you. I can't take the chance of you getting hurt, especially now."

She shook a finger at him. “I'm a grown woman. I don't need to be hovered over, and it's very irritating. Half my friends are afraid to come visit me because of all the attention this whole mess is getting. They don't like being stopped at the door by a guard."

George held up his hands in protest. “Get off your high horse. He's only doing what I pay him to do, and it won't last forever."

"That's another item we need to talk about.” She stared at him, her eyes narrowed into slits. “He's costing us a small fortune and we can get the same thing free from the police."

"Maggie, you don't seem to understand. Mr. Casey is concerned only about you. The police are spreading themselves thin over the whole place and you won't get the personal attention."

She let out a loud sigh. “Exactly. No one will be breathing down my collar."

"You still won't be able to leave and roam around. They've already put out the order that all residents are to stay in their apartments after dinner."

"Well, they'll have a hard time enforcing it."

"Maggie,” he spat, “they're trying to find a murderer. Don't you want to cooperate?"

"I think this whole fiasco is a farce."

"How can you say such a thing? Gladys died because of an insulin overdose. Someone gave her a fatal shot."

Maggie pointed a crooked finger. “How do we know it's true?"

"The autopsy proved it."

"If you hadn't hired Tom Casey to begin with, Morning Glory Haven would never be in this mess. He has stirred up a bumble bee's nest and see where it's got us.” She raised her arms in frustration. “The whole place is in an uproar."

"Someone would have gotten suspicious eventually."

"Who would have disputed a doctor's diagnosis? No one was the wiser until that smart ass detective you hired came into the picture."

"You were also worried about the other deaths."

She harrumphed. “I had no idea you'd go out and hire a private investigator agency. Little did I realize what a pain in the butt it would be having a crew of men monitoring my every move. They've even gotten you so involved, I can't be out of your sight for a minute."

"The reasoning all makes perfect sense to me. Why can't you see it?"

She sighed, kicked off her shoes and rested her feet on the couch. “Just get rid of Casey and his helper."

"I'll have to think about it."

"If you don't, I'll fire him."

George rose from his chair, his cheeks flaming red. He grabbed his cane resting at the side and jammed it hard against the floor. “Woman, you make me so mad, I want to spit fire. Trying to do the right thing for you is like chewing nails."

She raised a hand and flitted her fingers in the air. “You'll get over it."

George limped toward the door, banging the walking stick against the entry tile on each step.

"Where are you going?"

He turned and scowled. “I'm going to go find Mr. Casey and fire him."