Diamonds Aren't Forever (2 page)

Charley stood and plopped on his hat. “Sounds good. Tell your little gal, I'll keep ya out of trouble until she returns."

Hawkman grinned and waved as he headed for his Chevy. “I'll run over to the courthouse tomorrow and see who owns that lot next door."

On his way home, Hawkman thought about his wife. She'd invited him to accompany her on the trip to New York, but when he'd begged off, it pleased him she hadn't balked at making the trip alone. The thought of staying in a boring hotel room all day, while she dealt with her agent and the publishing company didn't appeal to his restless nature.

He parked in the garage beside her van, and strolled toward the front door carrying a grocery sack. Jennifer had reminded him before leaving to pick up bread and milk on the way home. He'd no more put away the items than his cell phone beeped. He unclipped it from his belt and put it to his ear. “Hello."

"Hi, hon. I'm here safe and sound, but exhausted. Had a smooth flight, but didn't get a wink of sleep. Some little kids sat in the seat behind me and whined most of the flight. Drove me nuts."

"You better get to bed and rest up. You have a big day tomorrow."

"First, let me give you my hotel phone number.” She recited the digits.

"Got it."

"I won't be in my room much, but you can always reach me on my cell in case of an emergency."

"Probably best if you give me a buzz when you have a break,” Hawkman said. “I'll be helping Charley get the ground ready for his garden tomorrow."

"You'll be sore. You haven't done hard labor in a long time."

He chuckled. “You're probably right. Love you. Have a good rest."

The next morning, Hawkman arose at the crack of dawn. After showering, he slipped on the eye-patch. He hoped one of these days he'd be able to rid himself of the nuisance, but so far ophthalmology hadn't found a remedy. While shaving, he decided to surprise Jennifer and grow a mustache. He'd been clean faced since they'd married and figured the time had come for a change.

After dressing in work clothes, he put on the coffee pot and opened the bag with the two remaining donuts he'd brought from the office. He zapped them in the microwave oven for a few seconds, and savored every morsel. Why he enjoyed them so much, he didn't know. Maybe because Jennifer disapproved, or perhaps because he loved the smell and taste. He chuckled to himself as he finished his coffee, then threw the empty sack into the trash.

After checking on the falcon, Pretty Girl, he headed for Medford in the old truck. Stopping at the garden rental place, he inspected the rototillers and decided on the one with twenty horsepower. That should do the job. At his next stop, he picked up fertilizer and several other bags of nutrients for the soil.

Hawkman then drove to Charley's, bumped up over the curb and parked near the planting area. He spotted the farmer moving a sprinkler to different spots . “Hey, good thinking,” he said, climbing out of the truck. “Looks like you've got the ground nice and soft. It'll make it easier to turn the soil."

"Yep, I thought about it after you left last night, so put the soaker hose to use."

The two men hauled the rototiller out of the pickup bed along with a couple of gas cans. “I'll take the first shift,” Hawkman said. “Then while you're plowing, I'll run up to the courthouse and find out who owns that lot."

Charley nodded. “Sounds good to me."

Hawkman wrestled the machine for a couple of hours, then cut off the engine and wiped the gritty sweat from his face with an old towel he'd stuck in his back pocket. “You gotta manhandle this thing, Charley. It wants to buck. So take it slow and easy."

"Yeah, I've been watchin’ ya.” He strolled over and handed Hawkman a tall glass of iced tea. “Thought you might be a bit thirsty."

"Thanks.” Hawkman took a big swig. “You're right, this hits the spot.” He brushed the dust off his clothes and headed for the truck. Stomping his boots on the pavement to rid them of any mud, he called over his shoulder, “I'll be back as soon as I get the information. Take a break if you get tired or too hot. There's no big hurry on getting the machine back."

Charley waved and fired up the engine.

The air-conditioning in the truck felt good. Hawkman exhaled loudly, thankful they'd started this job before the weather got any warmer. By the time he reached the courthouse, he'd cooled off. He headed up the stairs and stepped into the assessor's office where there were several employees. Most of them recognized Hawkman and gave a cheerful greeting as he made his way toward the desk of the young woman who usually helped him.

"Hi, Sheila. I need to look up a piece of property located next to the Schyler place here in town."

She smiled. “You wouldn't by any chance know the parcel number. The computer could find it a lot quicker."

He shook his head and grinned. “Nope, gonna make sure you earn your keep today."

"Figures. Okay, let's start with Schyler."

She frowned as her fingers flew over the keys. “Hmm, I don't find anything under that name."

Thinking aloud, Hawkman mumbled. “Bet Jamey never filed the deed."

Sheila turned her head. “Pardon. Didn't hear you."

"Try Rachel Smith."

"Ah, here it is,” she said, pointing at the screen. “Now, you want to know who owns the parcels on both sides, right?"

"Yes, please."

"Looks like I won't have to look far. It states Rachel Smith owns the vacant lots on each side of the house."

"You're kidding.” Hawkman said, leaning over her desk.

"Nope.” She turned the monitor toward him. “Here it is. Looks like close to an acre belongs to her."

Hawkman studied the property map and jotted down the parcel numbers of the two extra lots plus the one of the house, then he slapped his hand on the desktop. “That's all I need to know. Thanks a lot, Sheila."

He left the courthouse, and figured Charley would be elated to find out those three lots were connected. Depending on what the rental agreement said, he might be able to use all the land. Why, he'll be tickled to death if it means two more plots available for gardening.

Driving back to Charley's, he thought about the old fellow wanting to buy the place. He wouldn't be able to purchase the land until Jamey cleared the title of Rachel's name. Damn forgetful woman. Seems to cause trouble wherever she goes. However, it might force her back to the area to get everything cleared up if she wants to sell. Could turn out to be very interesting. He might have to make a little deal with Sheila to keep him informed.

Hawkman pulled up to the back of the house and spotted Charley sitting in the lawn chair fanning his face with the straw hat. Jumping out of the truck, he hurried toward him. “You okay?"

Charley glanced up with a gleam in his eye. “Just finished up and coolin’ off here in the shade. This here's a little tract. You ought to see what I'm used to doin'."

"True. Guess this seems like a small field.” Hawkman plopped down in the extra chair."

"Well, I'm awaitin’ to hear what ya found out."

"This is going to surprise you. The lady you rent from also owns the lots on each side of the house."

Charley's eyes grew wide with surprise. “You're kiddin’ me."

"Nope."

He slapped his hand to his forehead. “You mean I can plant on both sides?"

Hawkman laughed. “Not sure, Charley. You need to check your rental agreement and see what it says. Make sure it includes those two lots. If you don't understand it, call the agency who manages the property and find out from them."

"I've got a copy of the lease in the house. Let me go get it and we'll look it over together. If we can't figure it out, I'll call those people in the morning."

"Hold on a minute.” Hawkman said. “First, tell me. If you find out you can plant those other two lots, what the hell you gonna do with all the food you produce?"

Charley looked at him wide eyed. “Why, sell it, of course. Just think of the people who'll buy fresh stuff right out of the ground. I'll make enough money to buy all three parcels without ever having to go into my savings."

Hawkman shifted his position. “Don't get too caught up with the idea of purchasing this place. It might be harder than you think."

Charley grimaced. “Why?"

"From what I understand, Jamey Schyler never recorded the deed to the property and it's still in the name of her deceased aunt. The title remains clouded until she proves she's the rightful heir of Rachel Smith. All depends on how bad she wants to unload it. It might require some time to get done."

"I ain't got nothin’ but time.” With a gleam in his eye, Charley slapped his knee. “And it gives me something to think about."

"If you really want this place, then I'd press for it. You could definitely do justice to this piece of real estate."

Charley disappeared into the house and returned within a few minutes carrying a couple of frosty bottles of beer in one hand and a large brown envelope in the other. Giving Hawkman one of the brews, he sat down, placed his bottle on the ground between his feet, and pulled a sheet of paper from the sheath.

"This here's a copy of what I signed. Guess I should have read it more closely. It all sounded like the normal stuff in a rental agreement."

Hawkman didn't want Charley to feel stupid, but he pointed to the front page. “You probably didn't pay attention to these parcel numbers as they really didn't mean anything at the time."

Charley squinted at the print. “Don't have my readin’ glasses out here so can't rightly see ‘em."

Hawkman took the copy of parcel numbers from his pocket and compared them to the ones on the lease. “Yep, they match. Looks like you've rented yourself a nice little plot of ground, I'd say close to an acre. And from what I can decipher, anything on these lots is yours to use.” He folded the paper and handed it back to Charley. “Did they by any chance give you extra keys when you moved in?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact they did."

"Could be one is for the padlock on that shed."

Charley's eyes glistened with excitement. He jumped up and almost knocked over his beer. Grabbing the bottle before it spilled, he passed it to Hawkman. “I figured they were spares belonging to the doors and the hot water tank closet. I'll go fetch ‘em."

He hurried into the house and within a few seconds rushed out carrying a large jingling key ring. Charley headed straight for the small storage building, and squatted in front of the door. Hawkman stepped up behind him as the old man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a can of WD-40. He held the lock in his large hand, shot some of the substance into the keyhole, then worked the key inside. On the third try the rusty padlock popped open. Charley glanced up and grinned from ear to ear. Hawkman took the can and sprayed the hinges of the double doors, then the two men gently rocked them back and forth until they stood wide open.

Hawkman reached inside the shed, lifted an old brush hanging on one of the wall hooks and used it to sweep away the spider webs. Charley proceeded straight for the small tractor and opened the gas tank. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Looks like whoever stored this knew what he was doing. He's drained the tank, so hopefully nothing is gummed up. It may take a bit of priming, but that's no problem.” He checked over the engine. “Everything looks in good shape."

Hawkman stepped to the corner and lifted a tarp covering a large item. He poked Charley on the shoulder. “Look at this."

"I'll be damned! A trailer. Now won't that be the berries.” Charley beamed like a happy kid at Christmas. “Help me move this machine outside so I can give it a good once over."

The two men pushed the small tractor through the open doors.

Hawkman pointed at the wheels. “You might need to purchase new tires. The back ones are flat and the two on the front don't look so good."

"That's minor. Now, if I can get the engine to turn over. Wonder how long it's been stored?"

Hawkman rubbed his finger over the new whisker growth on his upper lip. “Well, let me think. I knew the Smiths when they lived here and I have a feeling the machine belonged to them. It's been at least five years, maybe even a bit longer since Mr. Smith took ill. He wanted to go back to Oklahoma where he grew up. So, they took off and rented the place for a little while, then Jamey Schyler came into the picture. But I doubt she even looked inside this shed. She only lived here a few weeks before she disappeared. I'd say that little tractor hasn't been used for about six or seven years."

Charley busied himself with wiping the accumulated grime off the machine. “That's good. I'll know how to work on this little engine then. It's these new fangled computerized things that buffalo me. Why, I'll have this little baby hummin’ in no time."

"You want to keep the rototiller a few more days?"

He shook his head. “Naw, won't need it. I'll get me a little plow to go on the back of this and I'll be set. While I'm workin’ on the engine, I'll soak the ground. We've had some good rain this year, it won't take much water."

The two men rinsed the rototiller's blades, wiped them down and lifted the machine into the pickup. Hawkman felt Charley wanted him to leave so he could get back to his new found toy.

"Don't think you need me anymore today. I'll check by tomorrow afternoon and see how things are coming."

"Let me get the gas cans."

"Those are mine. Just keep them here. You might need the fuel if you get the tractor going."

"I'll pay ya for it later."

"Don't worry about it,” Hawkman said, waving him off as he climbed into his truck.

After dropping off the rototiller at the shop, he headed home and thought about Jamey. She had a streak of greed, and the knowledge of a prospective buyer might lure her back to Medford.

While Charley worked on the tractor for a couple of days, Hawkman figured he'd have time to take Pretty Girl for a hunt. Then he'd talk to Sheila at the recording office and see if she'd agree to alert him of any transactions taking place on the property.