Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (19 page)

"Stay,” he heard Hampton say, as he opened the door.

When he saw Hawkman, his face clouded. “Something wrong?"

Pesky darted by George and ran around Hawkman's legs. He reached down and petted the beast to calm her. “I don't know. Got a call from Detective Williams a few minutes ago. He said you hadn't shown up and he couldn't reach you, so thought I'd drop by."

George stepped back. “Come in. I ran to the pharmacy to pick up some insulin; I was running low. What's the problem? Is Maggie okay?"

"As far as I know she's fine physically, but giving the police a hard time, not sure what about. I'm headed over there now."

George threw his hands in the air. “I don't know what I'm going to do with that woman. I'd like to bring her home so I could keep an eye on her. All the attention she gets over there makes me unhappy. I'm afraid someone's going to hurt her."

"Since you're okay, I'm going to head over to Morning Glory Haven and find out what's going on.” Hawkman turned to leave, then swiveled around, and pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket. “Oh, before I forget, here's the invoice for my services. You owe five hundred. Thanks for hiring me."

"I'll get a check to you. Sorry it was a short haul. I'd been happy to keep you on until this whole mess was solved."

"I understand."

"Tell Maggie I'll be there shortly."

Hawkman left Hampton holding Pesky by the collar and trying to get her back into the house. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced in the side mirror, and noticed George must have finally succeeded in getting his pet inside, as he'd shut the front door. His mind went back to their conversation. What did he mean about all the attention Maggie got at the home? Hawkman wasn't sure what to make of it, but shook it off as one of George's offhanded remarks.

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Hawkman arrived at Morning Glory and went straight to Maggie's room without stopping to check with Detective Williams. Stepping out of the elevator he almost ran into Carmen Sanders. She let out a yelp as he grabbed her shoulder so she wouldn't fall.

"Forgive me, I had so much on my mind I wasn't paying attention,” Hawkman said.

Straightening herself, she forced a smile. “No problem. It's been a bit hectic around here. I don't think any of us are in our right minds at the moment."

"How are the residents taking the rumor of a possible murder in the facility?"

She shook her head and gazed at the floor. “Not good, I'm afraid. Many are talking about moving out, even though I've told them Mrs. Owens death could have been an accident caused by her own hand."

"I'm sure they fear for themselves."

Nodding, she stepped past him and moved into the elevator. “Have a good day."

He watched the door slide shut and heard the hum of the pulleys as the machine carried her to the ground floor. Moving down the hallway to Maggie's apartment, he knocked.

"Come in,” she said.

Not knowing what reaction he'd meet with when Maggie saw him, he turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. She sat on the couch near the window, and he could hear the clicking of her knitting needles. A woman who could go from one mood to the next in a blink of an eye, Maggie looked very serene at the moment.

When she glanced up, her facial features turned sour. “Damn, I just dropped a stitch. What are you doing here?"

Hawkman stepped inside. “A couple of things. First, George told me to tell you he'd be here shortly."

"You didn't have to come up here to tell me. I just talked to him on the phone. Our life was quiet and calm until you entered the picture. Now everything is turned upside down."

"Really? I don't understand your statement. George hired me, I didn't go to him."

She threw her knitting in the basket. “Okay, what's the other thing?"

"Detective Williams asked me to talk to you about your behavior. He said you were giving his officers trouble."

"Oh, my, what a bunch of baloney. I got hungry last night and went to the dining room before it closed, got a bite to eat, then stopped and worked on a jig saw puzzle.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “I didn't want to come back to my apartment and told them so."

"Don't you think a little cooperation with the police might help? They won't be here long and want to keep everyone safe. You make it hard when they can't keep track of your whereabouts."

"Why do they care about an old crippled woman using a walker? Do they think I'm a killer?"

"They don't know."

She pointed a finger. “You tell them."

"I don't know either, Maggie."

Her mouth dropped open, then she frowned. “What do you mean, you don't know?"

About that time, George entered the room, glanced at the two, tossed the sack he carried in his hand onto the coffee table, then flopped down on the couch, leaning his cane against the arm. “I can tell by the looks on both your faces, things are not peaches and cream."

"Your dear private investigator just called me a murderer."

George straightened and threw a disarming look at Hawkman. “Why?"

Hawkman scowled. “I told her, I didn't know if she was one."

"What the hell brought this on?"

He quickly related their conversation. “Maggie is determined to cause problems. If she continues in this vein, it wouldn't surprise me if Detective Williams didn't haul her down to the jailhouse and let her spend a couple of days behind bars."

"He wouldn't do that,” Maggie said with disgust.

"If you're hindering an investigation, he certainly could. I'm just warning you.” He glanced at George. “It's up to you to keep her under control. I'm just passing along the message."

Hawkman put his hand on the door knob. “I won't be bothering you anymore, so please heed my words."

He left the apartment and went in search of the detective and found him in the makeshift headquarters reading through a stack of papers.

Williams glanced up. “Pull up a chair. Did you talk any sense into the Hampton woman?"

"All I can say, is I tried. I told her you might take her to jail for a day or two if she didn't straighten up."

The detective smirked. “I doubt she believed you, but let's hope she thinks about it.” Williams then pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack, and handed it to Hawkman. “Thought you might be interested in this last report from the lab on Mrs. Owens’ tests."

After reading it, he frowned. “This sounds like the woman committed suicide."

"I'm not buying it. I spoke with Mrs. Owens’ doctor this morning and he has no record of prescribing Halcion. He said she never complained about having trouble sleeping. I also spoke with her daughter. She swears her mother never had suicidal tendencies, was a happy person, loved Morning Glory Haven and was excited about her upcoming visit to their new home. Owens’ friends have said much the same thing."

"Then it sounds like someone drugged her, but how?"

"This stuff dissolves in alcohol, and Ms. Owens liked her toddy at night. They found residue of Halcion in her glass."

Hawkman rubbed his chin. “Sounds like someone stopped by for a drink."

Williams pointed his pencil. “She didn't have a roommate, so it could have been anyone. Since she let them inside, she obviously knew the person."

Hawkman leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “It means all her friends are under suspicion."

Williams nodded.

Scratching his head, Hawkman made a face. “Did any of the residents see anyone coming or going from her room that evening?"

"No one."

The detective leaned back in his chair. “Tell me again why Mrs. Hampton keeps extra insulin in her room?"

Hawkman explained about George and his neglect of his own health. “Why are you interested in them?"

"What do you know about George personally, besides his health history? Do you know what kind of business he had before he retired?"

"Now that you've asked,” Hawkman shrugged. “No, I don't know, other than he must have done quite well."

"I did a little checking. He had a machine shop, and on the side, he worked as a locksmith. A very skilled one from what I understand. The man could get into these apartments with little effort."

Hawkman reared back in his seat. “You're not suggesting George is a killer?"

"His wife played a major role in their business. She knew how to run the machines and make keys. She even went with him when a home had several locks to change. Her skills were as good as his."

"Why would they hire me to investigate?"

"They also fired you. Probably because you were keeping too close an eye on the misses. I'd say it's a clever scheme. The ploy kept the heat off them, until they thought you were getting too near the truth."

"That's really hard for me to buy,” Hawkman said, shaking his head.

"Maybe, but give it some thought. It's hard for me to believe a successful businessman can't keep track of his insulin."

"What's their motive?"

"Who knows. There have been stranger cases."

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Hawkman left the detective's makeshift office and wandered into the big recreation room. Williams had planted a devastating seed into his head. It made sense, but he didn't like it. He thought about returning to Maggie's apartment, gave it a second thought, and decided it wasn't the right time to approach the Hamptons about this problem. The police would converge on them soon enough, and he knew Maggie wouldn't stand for it. All hell would probably break loose in the next few days. The whole scenario worried him.

He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and chewed on it. A cigarette would taste mighty good right now. He leaned against the wall and observed what the people were doing. Several were playing card games, some men were concentrating on their checkers, and a few others were relaxing with an open book on the comfortable chairs in the library area. Everything looked so peaceful. No one seemed uptight about what was going on.

Out of the corner of his eye, a movement caught his attention. He turned his head and recognized the Marketing Director, Carmen Sanders, coming down the hallway with a sweater draped over her arm. Hawkman pushed away from the wall and touched his hat. “Hello, Ms. Sanders, you seem in a hurry."

"One of our ladies always forgets to take her sweater when she goes to the dining room, and asked me to get it."

"Do they give you their key to do these chores?” he asked.

"Sometimes, otherwise, I use my master key. Excuse me, I need to deliver this to her before she has one of the waitresses call me.” She turned abruptly, and headed toward the dining area.

Hawkman watched as she disappeared around the corner and wondered how many master keys floated around the place. It could put a few more people under scrutiny. He decided to talk to Williams about such a possibility.

He poked his head into the room, only to find a couple of officers conferring in a serious tone with the detective. Figuring this wasn't an appropriate time to disturb him, he backed out of the room and decided to try Mr. Mackle's office.

When Hawkman approached the receptionist, she glanced up and sucked in her breath.

"Hello, Mr. Casey. Can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Mackle. I only need a couple minutes."

"I'll see if he's available.” She left her desk, knocked softly on the closed door between the two offices, then stepped inside. Returning within a few seconds, she gestured for Hawkman to enter.

"He'll see you now."

Mr. Mackle stood and held out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Casey. I hope you don't have bad news."

"Neither bad nor good. I need to know how many master keys are floating around."

He frowned. “Only my top staff are issued them. We have to be able to get into the flats in case there's an emergency. It would be foolish to only have one set in my office, which could cause a delay in getting help."

"I understand. How many are out there?"

"Six."

"Who has them?"

"I have one, plus an extra in my safe. The others were given to, Lisa Montgomery, Perry Foster, Don Jackson, and Carmen Sanders."

"Do they carry them or are they left in their offices?"

"Preferably, they secure them on their main key rings. I've instructed my employees not to leave the keys in an unlocked office. That would be asking for trouble."

"Have you ever had a resident complain about an invasion of their rooms?"

Mackle shook his head. “Never."

"I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for being candid with me. I appreciate it."

"No problem. The sooner we can get the police out of here, the happier I'll be."

"How are the people doing?"

"My staff are nervous wrecks. A few of the residents have complained about having to retreat to their rooms after dinner. I've assured them all, things will be back to normal very soon. One advantage in dealing with the older population, they do adjust well. However, I don't want to lose any tenants, and their patience will only hold out so long before they feel their freedoms are being trampled on. I can't blame them, they want to be able to take care of themselves as long as possible. This investigation is hampering their independence."

"Hopefully, things will be resolved quickly."

Hawkman left Mackle's office and went back to see if Williams was free. When he entered the makeshift office, he saw him reading what looked like a report. The detective glanced up, put it down, and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm going to go question the Hamptons in a few minutes. I hope the Mister is there too. You want to come?"

"George should be at her apartment by now. I think I better stay out of it. Maggie's not happy with me, and it would just hamper your interrogation."

"Have you stumbled onto anything that might help us out?"

"I spoke with Mr. Mackle about master keys. It appears several employees carry them, and have access to the apartments."

"Did you find out their names?"

"Yes, but haven't had a chance to examine their resumes."