Angels in Disguise (7 page)

"I've only had a slight show of blood in the urine."

He frowned. “You never told me."

She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “It sounded too scary."

"You said you have a twenty-four hour preparation before this test. What does it involve?

"I have to completely clean out my intestinal tract on Sunday. I don't do well with laxatives, so I have a feeling it's not going to be pleasant."

"I'll be here with you. And we'll see how things go tomorrow and Saturday morning. If no problems arise, I'll keep the appointment. It shouldn't take too long and I'll have my cell phone charged to the hilt. If anything happens, promise you'll call me immediately."

She moved around her computer terminal and put her arms around his waist. “Honey, I love you. Everything's going to be fine. Now, let's talk about something else."

He let out a sigh and hugged her close. Stroking her long brown hair cascading down her back, he closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. “You'll never know how much I love you."

Her hazel eyes glistened with moisture, she gently pushed away and smiled. “Tell me about your day."

He removed a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “I need your input on something. I found a clothing store where Carlotta shopped the day before she disappeared. The clerk made me a copy of the items she'd purchased. I want you to look them over and tell me what you think."

"Still no word from Carlotta?"

"Nothing. And not a clue to where she's gone. It's a real baffler."

Jennifer sat down at the kitchen bar, unfolded the sheet and read the list aloud. “Bathing suit with matching jacket, seven pairs of bikini panties, four lace uplift brassieres, silk robe with matching negligee and scuffs, three sets of shorts, a pair of designer jeans, three packages of hose, two silk blouses, and two pairs of shoes.” She raised a brow and glanced at Hawkman. “Judging from these items, I'd gather this woman had a jaunt planned with a man."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the sexy nightgown and underwear."

"Even if this is her normal attire, would those purchases still indicate a trip?"

"I think so, because she's practically replenished her wardrobe. My guess is she's taking a cruise or going to a warm place because of the bathing suit and shorts."

"Hmm. Interesting. I found no airline or cruise ticket purchases on her credit card."

Jennifer placed the list on the counter. “Of course not, a man probably invited her and the vacation's already set up."

Hawkman tapped the top of the bar with his finger tips. “Now to find the man. The two clowns Tiffany described, don't sound like they'd have the money. But one never knows."

"Have you located either of them?"

"No. The names she supplied didn't pan out. The appointment I have set up on Saturday is with one of the artists from the police department. He's to meet me at Delia's place around two in the afternoon. I'm hoping Tiffany can give good enough descriptions so I'll have something to go on."

"Good idea. I'll be interested in seeing those drawings."

Hawkman hung around the house Friday, not letting Jennifer out of his sight for more than a few minutes. Saturday morning, he paced the floor wondering if he'd made the right decision to leave. Finally, she came up behind him and poked him on the shoulder.

"Honey, you better get going. You want to be there when the artist arrives at Delia's."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"So far, I'm fine. So don't worry, I'll call you if there's any change."

Reluctantly, Hawkman left the house and headed for Medford. He parked in front of Delia's house about fifteen minutes before the scheduled appointment. Tiffany ran out of the door, toting the new kitten over her arm. He also noticed she had on a pair of normal cut jeans along with a colorful tee shirt that covered her midriff.

"Hi, Mr. Casey."

"Well, hello, Tiffany. How's the new kitten doing?"

"I really like her and Grandma says she's really a smart kitty. And she's so funny when she plays. Makes me laugh a lot.

"I'm happy she's turning out to be a good pet. Have you named her?"

"I call her Princess.” She pointed at the cat's white ears. “See this little gray circle of hair? It looks like a small crown."

"Yes, I see it. You picked a good title. Tell me, are you nervous about talking to the artist?"

She rubbed her nose against the cat's head. “No, I think it'll be great."

"Good, he should be here any moment."

About that time, an older Honda Accord pulled up and a man in his early thirties got out carrying a large sketch book. He had twinkling blue eyes with a short trimmed beard and neat mustache.

"Hi, there. I'm Jack Franklin.” He came forward with his hand extended. “You must be Tom Casey."

They shook and Hawkman turned toward Tiffany. “This is Ms. Tiffany Ryan. She's looking forward to talking with you."

He smiled and petted the feline's head. “Hey, I may have to take time to sketch this beautiful kitten, too."

Tiffany's eyes opened wide. “Really?"

Delia opened the front door. “You guys coming inside or are you going to stand out there all afternoon."

"We're coming, Grandma.” She grabbed Jack's hand and practically dragged him toward the entry. They were both laughing by the time they entered the house.

Hawkman followed and smiled to himself. The man definitely knew how to handle children.

When they all arrived inside, Delia led the artist and Tiffany into the dining room overlooking the pool. She'd put a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies on the table, then motioned for Hawkman to go into the kitchen. “I don't think we want to bother them,” she whispered.

He nodded. “You're absolutely right. We want no distraction from the business at hand.” He tried to concentrate on his conversation with Delia, but his attention wandered to the male voice in the other room. He heard Tiffany laugh a couple of times, then their conversation lowered to soft and serious.

Hawkman excused himself and exited to the front yard where he phoned Jennifer. “Hi, hon, how are you doing?"

"Fine, no problems. Is your artist doing the sketches?"

"Yes. And he's definitely got a way with kids. He's even had Tiffany laughing. I'm anxious to see the drawings. He should be through shortly and I'll get home."

"Okay, no hurry. I'm doing okay."

Hawkman strolled back into the house just as Tiffany jumped up and took the sheet of paper Jack handed her.

"Oh, this is perfect,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “Look at this, Mr. Casey.” She turned the sheet toward him showing a very accurate picture of her holding Princess.

"It almost looks like a photograph,” Hawkman said.

Delia studied the picture and beamed. “We'll get this framed immediately. Mr. Franklin really caught your sweet expression, Tiffany. And it appears Princess is going to jump right out of your arms.” She smiled at Jack. “You're excellent."

He shrugged and grinned. “Thank you."

The two men walked to the car, where he showed Hawkman the sketches of the men Tiffany described.

He held up the first drawing. “This one Tiffany called ‘Derrick’ and said he had a funny last name she couldn't remember.” He flipped the page over. “She called this man ‘Jack Smith', but doubted that's his real name. He handed them to Hawkman. I've sprayed the drawings so they won't smudge."

"Did she have any trouble remembering the men?"

"No. But she did say the man with the scar on his cheek had mean eyes. I got the impression he scared her."

"Yes, I had the same feeling.” Hawkman handed the artist a check. “Thanks for your time. I really appreciate it."

"It's great doing the things you love. I hope these work out."

"So do I."

Hawkman gently placed the two sketches on the middle seat of his 4X4. He'd study them closer when he got home, then later encase them in plastic for protection. It took the artist a little longer than two hours to get the drawings done, but he did an excellent job and had a way of making his young subject relax. Hawkman glanced toward the house. He still had a few questions only Tiffany could answer, but they'd have to wait until he didn't have so much on his mind. These positive events would only make things easier when the time came.

His concern over Jennifer made him edgy. He hopped into his vehicle, waved to Jack and took off. It seemed like the trip home took forever, but soon he passed over the bridge and parked in the garage. He carefully carried the portraits into the house.

Jennifer looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hi."

It relieved him to see her in her normal spot. “You look mighty perky."

"I feel just fine. Still have symptoms, but hopefully we'll know what they are by Monday."

"No pain?"

"None."

"That's good.” He placed the drawings on the dining room table.

She got up and moved next to him. “Very interesting. The artist is good. These almost look like black and white photographs. But these guys certainly don't look meek and mild. They're pretty rugged looking characters."

Hawkman pointed to the one where the artist had written ‘Jack Smith’ in the corner. Mr. Franklin told me Tiffany appeared frightened of this one."

"I can understand why. He's definitely not good looking with that jagged scary scar on his cheek below those scornful eyes. Is he the plumber?"

"No. Not sure what he does. Tiffany had no idea and didn't think her mother called him by his correct name. The neighbor, Sue, suspected both were handymen of some sort as they carried tools when she saw them enter the house. I figure she spotted them on their first visit, because Tiffany implied they both returned at later dates. However, I got the impression they only visited a few times before Carlotta gave them the boot or at least didn't continue any sort of relationship in front of her daughter"

"Then why are you interested in these men?"

"Because, one never knows what lurks in the minds of a jilted lover."

"Well, if anyone's gotten a dirty deal, how about her husband, Paul?"

"I haven't ruled him out either."

She frowned. “But he hired you to find Carlotta."

"Doesn't matter. It's a good cover-up."

Hawkman stared at the pictures. “Have you ever seen either one of these men?"

"No, but wouldn't you imagine they'd roam around Medford instead of our area?"

"Probably.” He held up one of the drawings. “By the way, do you have something I could back these with? I don't want to tear them."

"Sure.” Jennifer went into the kitchen and came back carrying a couple pieces of cardboard and a box of plastic wrap. She helped Hawkman secure and cover the sketches.

"Thanks. Now they don't feel quite as fragile."

"How are you going to find these men?"

"I don't know. Sure didn't have any luck with the plumbing companies or the phone listings, so thought I'd see if they're in the mug books at the police station. If I don't find them there, I'll have to do some leg work."

She picked up one of the drawings and studied it. “I hate to say it, but if looks have anything to do with it, I'd suspect these men of taking or dealing drugs. Both have shallow looking eyes, with long and unkempt hair.” She pointed to Jack Smith. “His beard and mustache are really scraggy and the scar doesn't help his appearance.” Placing them back on the table, she put a hand on her hip and scowled. “Why in the world would Carlotta be interested in this type of man, when she has a good looking guy who can supply her every desire? Do you think she's into drugs?"

"Anything's possible. Tulip said she'd complained about what a boring life she had with Paul."

Jennifer folded her arms. “Well, she might find she's bitten off more than she can chew if she's going to attempt to handle the likes of these creatures."

"Very true. One of the reasons I'm interested in talking with them is to find out what they thought of Carlotta and when they saw her last. Let's hope they're still in the area so I can locate them."

The next day, Jennifer started the laxative regimen and it hit her immediately. She spent most of the day in the bathroom. Since she couldn't eat any solid foods, Hawkman made her Jell-O and gave her liquids, which soon made her gag.

"Oh, my, I'll be glad when tomorrow is here,” she said, flopping onto the bed and holding her stomach. “I'm so miserable."

By nightfall, Hawkman felt relieved when she finally went to sleep. The next morning, he took her to the hospital for the intravenous pyelogram. He tried reading a magazine in the waiting room, but couldn't sit still, so he paced and prayed if they found a stone they'd be able to crush it right away.

An hour and a half passed before Jennifer left the x-ray room looking pale. The doctor followed her out.

"Mrs. Casey, don't leave. I'm going to check with the radiologist and see if they discovered anything."

He left the room only to return shortly, motioning for Jennifer and Hawkman to come into his office. Once they were all seated, he glanced at the report in front of him and took a deep breath. “Mrs. Casey, the technician found no stone. However, there's something pressing against the ureter where it joins the bladder. I'm going to set you up for a CAT scan, also an appointment with a kidney specialist so we can see what's going on. Your urine specimens have been erratic. One time they showed a high white cell count, but the last one was normal. It doesn't make sense."

Jennifer gnawed her lower lip. “How soon will you set these up?"

"I'm putting a ‘stat’ on the requests, which means immediate attention, so hopefully within the next day or two. I'm hoping to get the CAT scan before your appointment with the urologist, but we'll take what we can get. Someone will call and make arrangements for the time."

Hawkman listened with concern. “Doctor, is this serious?"

"We won't know until we get more tests done."

They left the building in silence. Hawkman held onto Jennifer's arm and helped her into the SUV. As he walked around the rear of the vehicle, he placed a toothpick between his teeth and clamped down hard, then climbed into the driver's side. “You comfortable?"