Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (22 page)

Hawkman now became more interested in what Lisa wrote than following her. He waited until she turned the corner before he parked in front of the house. He strolled up the sidewalk and knocked. Knowing his height would shield the mailbox from the street's view, he lifted out the paper and quickly read the content. ‘URGENT! I need to speak to you immediately. Do NOT talk to Mr. Casey before seeing me. Lisa.’ He dropped the note back inside, and stepped off the small porch. Why would she leave such a message? It might be best to wait right here and catch Ms. Sanders before she had a chance to read her mail.

Hawkman stayed in his vehicle and watched Carmen's house until twenty minutes before she was due at work. He doubted now she'd come home, but would go straight to Morning Glory Haven. Turning the key, he drove away.

Driving back to the facility, he had second thoughts about hitting Carmen immediately about the note. He didn't want to turn her off completely and decided it might be best for him to question her about what he'd found on the internet and how she qualified for the job. Laying a little ground work might be best.

When he arrived at the home, he parked in the same slot as before, and noticed Lisa Montgomery had returned. Not knowing the make of Ms. Sanders’ car, he decided to go inside and check her office. If she hadn't shown up, he'd wait in the lobby. She'd have to pass through there first.

Pushing on his hat, Hawkman grabbed the briefcase, hopped out of the SUV and went to the front door. The recreation room had several people reading the paper, talking and playing cards or checkers. This time they didn't pay much attention to him, which made him feel less conspicuous. He went to Carmen's office, and tried the door, only to find it locked. He detoured back to the main waiting room, and stopped at the receptionist's desk.

"Hi, Julie. Could you tell me if Carmen Sanders is in?"

She glanced at the roster. “No, she hasn't signed in yet, but is due any minute."

"Thank you. I'll wait.” He drifted over to the large couch, but before he could sit down, Ms. Sanders came hurrying through the entry. Waiting for her to check in, he then stepped in front of her. “Ms. Sanders, I need to talk with you. It's of utmost importance."

Her expression turned solemn. “What about?"

"I'd rather talk in private. Could we go to your office?"

"I guess, but I don't have much time. I've been running late all morning and must get to my duties."

"It will only take a few minutes."

He followed her down the corridor and into her small cubicle. She instantly went to her desk, removed the portable intercom, turned it on, picked up a clipboard and stood, glaring at him. “Well, what is it you want to see me about?"

"How'd you get this job?"

She furrowed her forehead. “Pardon?"

"From what I've read about you, you're not qualified. How'd you land this position?"

"Why is that important? That was three years ago. I thought you were investigating a murder."

"I research anyone I hold as a suspect."

Her mouth dropped open. “You think I'm a murderer?"

"I'm suspicious of everyone who works here. Now please answer my question."

She dropped into her desk chair, gripped a pencil until her fingers turned white. “Mr. Casey, I've well proven myself. I'm not only very good at my job, I love working here. I'd never do anything to jeopardize it."

"I don't doubt your good intentions. I just need information. Who helped you get this employment?"

"I hope it was on my own merit."

Hawkman reached down, opened his briefcase and handed her a sheet of paper. “I found this about you on the internet. I see nothing indicating you're qualified."

Carmen read the content, and handed it back to him. “Mr. Casey, I had a rough time growing up and am not too proud of my past. Those years are all behind me now.” She stood and picked up her clipboard and intercom. “If you'll excuse me, I really must get to my duties."

"Someone had to pull some strings for you to get this job. Who?"

"If you must know, Mr. Mackle is my uncle. He's my deceased mother's brother."

"Is it true you were married at one time?"

"Years ago, but I had it annulled. I was too young and had just graduated high school."

Hawkman slid the papers back into the case and rose. “I'm sorry to have kept you so long. I'd like to talk with you again."

She nodded.

He strolled down the corridor slightly behind Carmen until she stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. Curious about where the truth lay, he glanced back at the offices and wondered if he should approach Mr. Mackle. He probably hired her so she wouldn't have to live on the streets after her mother died. Something didn't smell right, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

His mind spun with different ideas, and he decided to see if Maggie and George would still talk to him. They might be able to clear up a few things. He stepped into the elevator and rode up to the second floor. The noise of the television sounded through the door as he knocked.

"Come in,” George called.

Cautiously, Hawkman stuck his head inside. “Can I talk to you two for a few minutes?"

"Sure. Come on in,” George said. “We don't hold no grudges."

Hawkman smiled. “Good, because I need your help."

Immediately, Maggie put her knitting into a small bag on the floor, then waved her hand at her husband. “George, turn off the television. Mr. Casey needs our attention."

Hawkman sat down on the overstuffed chair, placed his briefcase on the floor, put his elbows on his thighs and folded his hands. “Tell me anything you know about Carmen Sanders."

George shrugged. “I know who she is, but seldom talk to her."

The two men turned their gazes toward Maggie.

"Ms. Sanders is a very kind and caring young woman. There are times after her shift she stops by and has a toddy with the residents."

"In their rooms or at the bar?” Hawkman asked.

"Both. She's come by here and chatted with me on occasions, brought her own glass and liqueur.” She screwed up her mouth and made a funny face. “I don't like sweetened booze, but that's okay. I have my own bottle and make my own drink. We'll chat for several minutes before she takes her leave to go down the hallway to the next place. She's very cheerful and sometimes very comical. Her jokes are very amusing."

"The few times I've spoken with her, she seems very reserved, not outgoing at all,” Hawkman said.

Maggie threw up her hands. “No wonder. You're a private investigator and probably grilled her with questions the whole time you conversed."

He nodded. “You've got a point."

"She's a fine person and appears to love her job. Very thoughtful, always asking if we need anything and if there are any problems."

"What do you know about Lisa Montgomery?"

Maggie tapped her chin. “Not much. Only talked with her a couple of times. Once when I registered to live here and another time when there was an emergency down the hall. She's part of the top brass and works most of the time in her office doing book work."

"What kind of guy is Don Jackson?"

"Now, that's a fine young chap,” George piped in. “He tends to mingle with people in the recreation and dining room. Always a smile on his face and very friendly."

"George is right. Don tends to meet with people in groups. He doesn't make the rounds to the apartments.” She pointed at George. “That's why he knows him better than Carmen."

"Does Ms. Sanders always come by after George has left?” Hawkman asked.

"Yes, it's usually after her shift, between nine-thirty and ten or after. She knocks and asks if I'm off to bed or would like to visit.” Maggie laughed. “I'm always up to talking.” She leaned forward and wiggled a finger. “I have a feeling she's very lonely and we here at the home are her only social life."

"What makes you think that?"

"One night she told me about her mother. They lived together and after she passed away, she had no one. She even made the comment about how lonely she felt walking into an empty house."

"Did she tell you how her mother died?"

"Stroke, but even though she lived a while afterwards, her diabetes made it very difficult for her to completely recover. She had tears in her eyes telling me how she watched her mother take that last breath."

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Hawkman left Maggie's apartment, confused about the conflicting information he'd received on Carmen Sanders and Lisa Montgomery. He needed to dig deeper.

Stepping out of the elevator, he stopped at the receptionist's desk.

"Is Mr. Mackle in?"

"No, he's gone to a conference and won't return until Monday."

"Who's in charge?"

"Mr. Foster."

"Thanks,” he said, moving down the corridor.

Lisa Montgomery started to step out of her office, but stopped abruptly when she saw Hawkman, and immediately, went back inside, closing the door behind her. He wondered if she'd found out he'd talked with Carmen Sanders.

Hawkman continued down the hallway and knocked on Foster's door. Perry's distinct voice instructed him to come in.

"Hello, again,” Perry said, glancing up. “Take a seat. I finally got Carmen Sanders’ file.” He handed it to Hawkman. “I just copied the whole thing because there isn't much there."

"Thanks. Could I take another look at Lisa Montgomery's folder?"

"Sure."

Foster went to the last drawer of the cabinet and removed it. “Here you go,” he said.

"Who else has access to your office besides you?"

"Ms. Montgomery and Mr. Mackle are free to come in and check the files.

"Do you lock your office when you leave?"

"Only in the evening, when I go home, but during the day it's usually open. I don't have anything in here I'd really worry about, except the files. Why do you ask?"

"I'm a private investigator and ask crazy questions.

Perry chuckled. “Makes sense."

Hawkman glanced through Lisa Montgomery's file and found it intact. “I'd also like to see the one on Don Jackson again.” Perry brought it forth and Hawkman thumbed through it. Satisfied he'd gotten everything of importance, he returned it to him. “Thank you. I hope I won't have to bug you again."

"No problem. Glad Ms. Montgomery found the Sanders’ file."

"Me, too.” He slid it into his briefcase and stood. “Oh, I wanted to verify something. I understand the outside doors are locked at ten at night. For a person to get in, he needs someone from the inside to admit him. Is that right?"

"Yes, a resident has to let you in. The employees all have passes."

"I think the system makes for good security. There isn't much this facility hasn't done to increase its attractiveness."

"Thank you. We're very proud of it."

"Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome. By the way, may I ask a personal question?"

"Sure."

He pointed at Hawkman's chest. “Do you always carry a weapon?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

Foster smiled. “My brother's in the secret service and I've noticed the familiar bulge in your jacket each time I've seen you."

"You're very observant. Most people wouldn't notice. Don't worry, it won't be drawn unless absolutely necessary."

He left, glanced at Lisa Montgomery's door as he passed, then decided to go up to the Hamptons and ask one more question before going to his office. He knocked and Maggie answered.

"Sorry to bother you, but need to talk to you about one more thing."

"Come on in,” she said, leaving the door open.” Not using her walker, she wobbled over to the couch, turned her magazine over, then flopped down.

"Where's George?” he asked, sitting on the overstuffed chair.

"He needed to run to town before the hardware store closed, to pick up a faucet for the kitchen sink at home. The plumber told George if he'd get the supplies, he'd only charge him half."

"Sounds like a deal."

"What'd you need?"

"How late do you stay up?"

"Usually until about eleven, sometimes midnight. Why?"

"Since they lock the place up at ten, if I needed to come and spy on someone, could you come down and let me in?"

"Of course, just call me. If I don't answer, leave a message. Sometimes I roam the halls late, but am usually back in my room within fifteen minutes. It makes me sleep better, even with a sleeping pill, to walk around before bedtime.” She grinned. “Also, they leave pastries out on one of the serving tables in the dining room, in case people get hungry."

"Very tempting. When you're out there, do you ever see others coming and going from their apartments?"

"Yes, but we all look like shadows in the night, because they dim the lights in the corridors about the same time they close the doors.” She laughed. “We look like a group of ghosts floating around in a spooky hallway."

Hawkman rose, and took his valise. “You look all dressed up and ready for dinner, so I'll get out of here."

"We'll go when George returns. Shopping makes him so hungry."

He opened the door and touched his hat. “Thanks for your time, Maggie. I'll probably see you tomorrow."

Wanting to get back to his office so he could go through Carmen Sander's folder, he hurried to the elevator and out the front door. He parked in the alley behind his office and jogged up the stairs. Placing the briefcase on the desk, he opened the window a crack, as the room smelled musty. He booted up the computer, then put on the coffee pot. Hanging his hat on the nail, he ran his hand through his hair and sat down in the swivel chair. He opened the valise and pulled out the copied files.

As he studied the papers, it appeared Ms. Sanders had told the truth. She was the niece of Mr. Mackle and he had hired her on his own. He made the statement in a letter to Perry Foster: he'd give Carmen six months to prove herself. If she didn't work out, they'd find someone else. Hawkman didn't find any application form.

He turned to the computer, clicked into the secure search area, and typed in his password. When the form came up, he decided to look up Don Jackson. Another common handle and he had to eliminate several before finding the right one. He raised his brows as he read the information.