Angels in Disguise (2 page)

They stepped into a well furnished living room with an entertainment center, including everything from a DVD player to a wide screened television. Since Paul furnished the house, obviously money was no object. The recent day's mail lay scattered in front of the door slot, which Paul immediately gathered and stacked on a counter with the rest he'd picked up previously. He glanced around, then raked a hand over his hair.

"It doesn't look like Carlotta's been here since I came by the other day."

"Is there an answering machine on your phone?” Hawkman asked.

"Yes."

"Have you checked it for messages that might give you a clue as to where she might be?"

"No, I hadn't thought about that."

"When you listen, don't erase anything. Might be something on there that will give us a hint."

Hawkman waited in the living room as Paul disappeared down the hallway and turned into a room which he assumed was either a study or bedroom.

Soon Paul returned, shaking his head. “There were eight messages, but most were from my Mother trying to contact Carlotta. A couple of hang-ups and one from Tiffany's friend. Nothing indicating where Carlotta might have gone. Of course, she could have erased those messages before she left."

"True. Mind if I sort through the mail? I'd like to check phone and credit card bills. If they're not here, could you furnish me with the latest ones?"

"Sure."

Hawkman lucked out and found both bills in the stack. “I'd like to make some copies of these and I'll get them back to you in plenty of time for payment."

"No problem."

"Let's take a look at your wife's car."

The men walked through the kitchen and into the garage. Hawkman slipped on a pair of gloves and carefully searched the interior of the Camry, then reached down on the driver's side and opened the trunk hood. After searching through it, he turned to Paul. “Nothing suspicious here,” he said, closing the lid. He took off the gloves and returned them to his pocket. “So far, there's no clue where your wife has gone. Maybe I could talk to Tiffany now."

The two men went back inside to the living room, and Paul called his daughter. “Hey, sweetheart, could you come here for a few minutes."

She slowly wandered in and studied Hawkman.

"This is Mr. Casey. He's a private investigator I've hired to help us find your mother. He'd like to ask you some questions, so please answer truthfully."

She glanced up into Hawkman's face with big brown moist eyes. “I really miss my Mom."

"I'm sure you do, honey. Why don't we sit on the couch.” Once seated, Hawkman pulled out a small paper pad and pin from his pocket, then leaned back. “Did your mom tell you why you'd be spending a few days with your grandmother?"

"No."

"She gave you no hint where she might be going?"

Tiffany shook her long pony tail. “No."

"I know this might be painful. But did your mother have any men visit her while your dad wasn't here?"

She shot a look of fear at her father.

"Go ahead and answer, Tiffany. We have to know."

Ducking her head, she mumbled. “Yes. Two of them I didn't like and told her so."

"Why not?” Hawkman asked.

She clutched her hands in front of her. “Because they were mean."

"What did they do?"

Glancing at her dad again, she bit her lower lip and tears welled in her eyes. “One of them pulled my pony tail and told me I was a spoiled brat. When mom told him not to touch me, he just laughed."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Derrick something or other. He had a funny last name."

"Was he just a friend?"

"I'd never seen him before. He came by to fix the toilet when it overflowed."

"Oh, so your mom called a plumber?"

Tiffany nodded.

"Did he pull your hair on his first visit or did he come by other times?"

"The first time he came over, he just took care of the problem and left, but then he came back two or three more times. The last time he came is when he grabbed my hair and yanked it really hard. I think Mom told him to get lost, because he never showed up again as far as I know."

Hawkman jotted down the name on his pad. “So you don't remember his last name or even how it sounded?"

She shook her head. “No."

"Did you see his truck the first time he came by? And by any chance if it had a company name on the side?"

She shook her head again.

"Okay, you said there was another man you didn't like. What was his name?"

"Mom called him Jack Smith. I'm not sure it was his real name because he always snickered when she said it."

"Did he come to fix something around the house?"

"I don't think so, unless he came while I was at school. He walked in with her one day after she'd been shopping. I'm not sure where he came from."

"You said he was also mean. What did he do?"

"He'd tell me to get lost when he came over. Then once he tried to kiss my Mom in front of me. She pushed him away and told him to stop. He twisted her arm until she squealed, then he kissed her anyway."

"I see. Did he come back several times, too?"

"Yes. But I'd run to my bedroom, because I didn't like him at all. One day, he opened my door and peeked in. I told him to get out."

"What'd he say?"

He put a hand on his hip and wiggled his butt, and said. “You're a mighty sassy little girl. Maybe I ought to take some of that cockiness out of you.” But about that time, Mom grabbed his arm and pulled him away telling him to leave me alone."

"Were there others?"

"Just Mr. Withers from the meat market."

Hawkman patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Tiffany, you've been very helpful."

"Do you think my Mom is with one of those horrible men?"

"I have no idea. But maybe we can find out."

Picking up her duffle bag from the floor, she rested it on her lap, and fidgeted with the strap. “Dad, when are we leaving?"

"As soon as Mr. Casey's done."

Hawkman stood. “I'd like to look through your wife's bedroom."

Paul led him to the end of the hallway, and let out a sigh as he opened the door.

"I'd like you to come in with me and tell me if anything looks amiss."

"Sure,” Paul said. “Of course, I haven't lived here in some time, so I'm not sure I'd recognize anything out of sorts."

"Does Carlotta work?

"No."

"So you pay the household bills?"

"Oh yeah. I pay her a healthy monthly allotment to keep things going. And to make sure Tiffany has everything she needs."

"Is she a good money manager or does she keep wanting you to up the wage?"

"Only once or twice has she asked me for more and it was for Tiffany's school stuff."

Hawkman nodded as he slid open the closet door. “There's a large suitcase in here. Do you know if this belonged to a set?"

Paul poked his head around the edge. “Yeah. It has three pieces. That one, a medium size and then one smaller. I don't see the middle one."

"Check the bathroom and see if her make-up is still there."

He went into the small room, opened the medicine cabinet, then checked the drawers and cabinets underneath the sink. “Nope, it's not here."

"Do you think you'd notice if any of her clothes were missing?"

"I doubt it. She likes to shop and had a continuous new wardrobe."

"Do you think Tiffany might know?"

"Possibly.” He poked his head out the door. “Tiffany, come in here for a minute."

She moseyed into the room, and flopped down on the unmade bed, her ams folded. “What do you want?"

"Would you look and see if any of your mother's clothes are missing?"

"Hmm, I'll try.” She slid off the mattress and went to the closet. Putting a finger to her lips, she flipped through the hung dresses and shuffled through the shelves. “I don't see her real fancy blue dress or her black Gucci handbag. Her jeans are gone along with two or three of her tops.” She glanced down at the floor. “Her silver high heels are missing, and her tennies. She quickly glanced under the bed. And I don't see her pair of black floppies she wears a lot around the house That's all I can tell right now. She's always buying clothes, so I'm not sure if she had anything new."

Hawkman raised a brow. “Are you sure it was a real Gucci purse?"

Tiffany grimaced and glanced at Paul. “Dad, don't get mad, but I was with Mom when she bought it and it cost a bunch. It has the silver logo right on the front."

Hawkman smiled as he flipped his notepad shut and put it into his pocket. “You've been a lot of help, Tiffany. Thank you.” He turned to Paul, “The information I've acquired so far will get me going. If I need to come back, I'll give you a call."

Paul grabbed a sack from the kitchen pantry and put the mail inside. “Guess I better pay some of these bills."

As they stepped outside, Tiffany ran toward their car and jumped into the passenger side. Paul locked up the house and picked up the stray newspapers. “Guess I better cancel the Daily News, too."

The two men stood in front of the house for a moment. “I'd like to talk to your mother soon,” Hawkman said. “But first I'll go through what I have and see if any interesting clues show up.” He patted his pocket. “I'll get these bills back to you tomorrow."

"Have any idea as to what might have happened?” Paul asked.

"Right now it looks like she took a long holiday without telling anyone. I'll speak with some of the neighbors. Who knows one of them may have dropped her at the airport. I'll do a quick study of those bills, and perhaps find she bought a ticket on her credit card or made some informative calls. They might reveal something."

Tiffany tooted the horn. “Hurry up, Dad ... it's hot in here."

Hawkman went back to his office, copied the bills and made notes of more questions. He wanted Paul to check his bank statement, especially if his and Carlotta's names were on the same account. It was possible he'd taken her off because of the monthly payments. Hawkman needed to make sure no money had been withdrawn without Paul's knowledge and if so, when.

Next, he hastily checked through the credit card bill and saw no sign of a plane ticket purchase. There were lots of clothing shops and restaurant charges, but nothing out of the ordinary that caught his attention. The phone bill proved a little more interesting. Several long-distant calls were made to the same number and many to one local residence. The digits looked familiar, so he flipped through the sheets of notes he'd taken during the interview with Paul and found the phone number belonged to his mother, Delia Ryan. It seemed odd, particularly since she didn't care for Carlotta. Why would those two women be communicating so much on the phone? Of course, it could be Tiffany calling her grandmother. Something to check into, he thought.

He circled the phone numbers on his copy to check out tomorrow. Folding the original bills, he shoved them back into their envelopes, then into his pocket. He'd run them by Paul's place on his way home. After taking care of some unfinished business, he checked the time and figured he better head out or it would get too late to drop by Paul's. The man probably hit work at sunrise and more than likely hit the sack early. He must make good money, since he could afford to take care of Carlotta's bills, plus pay for a two bedroom apartment of his own.

Hawkman shut down the computer, and locked up the office. He arrived at Paul's complex, and remembered when the construction of these new buildings went up. They couldn't be much over a two years old and were very lavish. One weekend during their grand opening, he and Jennifer had gone through some of them for fun. She'd gotten a lot of expensive ideas from the decorative displays and came home jabbering about the beautiful interiors. He had a time talking her out of buying new stuff for their own home. Smiling to himself, he climbed out of the 4X4 and made his way to unit 102.

A soft light glowed through the draped window. He knocked lightly as not to disturb the neighbors. Paul opened the door as far as the safeguard would allow. “Mr. Casey,” he said, hurrying to undo the chain. “Have you found Carlotta?"

"No. Sorry to get up your hopes.” Hawkman held out the envelopes. “I just wanted to return these bills so you wouldn't be delinquent."

"Come in, please.” Paul took the invoices and gestured toward the luxurious living room. “Have a seat and I'll fix you a cocktail."

Hawkman stepped inside, and sank down on the soft leather sofa. “No thanks on the drink. Don't think it'd be too wise. I have a ways to drive. I'll only stay a moment, but there are a couple things I'd like to ask."

Paul picked up a half-f drink sitting on the bar, and took a swig. “Sure, go ahead."

"First of all, did you have a joint checking account with your wife?"

He strolled to the overstuffed chair opposite Hawkman and plopped down. “Used to, but when she kicked me out, I took her name off everything. I didn't want her skipping town leaving me high and dry."

"Wise move."

"This way at least I know where the money is. Otherwise I wouldn't have a clue."

"The other thing, I noticed on the phone bill that there are several calls to your mother's house. Did Tiffany call her grandmother everyday?"

"Yeah, Mom insisted she call when she got home from school. She worried because Carlotta left Tiffany alone a lot. It really griped Carlotta and she told me to tell Mother not to instill so much fear into our daughter."

"What did your mom say about it?"

"She didn't pay any attention and told me there's too much going on with little girls nowadays. It didn't hurt Tiffany to pay heed to what's happening around her. And I had to agree. You can't turn on the news without hearing about a pedophile raping and murdering some little girl. It certainly didn't harm her to be aware."

Hawkman pointed to the envelopes Paul had placed on the counter. “There are several long-distant phone calls to the same number. Would you check and tell me if you recognize it."

Paul unfolded the bill and studied the numbers, then frowned. “Have no idea who that is."

"Okay, I'll check it out tomorrow.” Hawkman stood. “Won't keep you any longer. It's getting late and I need to get home. I'll touch base with you later in the week, and probably talk to your mother sometime within the next two days. Hopefully, I can time it so Tiffany's still in school."