Diamonds Aren't Forever (7 page)

She jumped up, paced back and forth in front of Bob, and ranted about what an idiotic thing she'd done. He finally took hold of her shoulders and pushed her down in a chair.

"Look, it's no big deal,” he said, sitting down opposite her.

"Oh, yeah!” she yelled. “Now I have to go back to that hick town to prove Jasmine Louise Gray and Jamey Louise Schyler are one and the same person."

"Can't you just fax them some documents?"

She picked up the e-mail and held it in front of his face. “I have to go to the title company in person and present my birth certificate, social security number and any other document that proves who I am.” She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. “I don't want to go back there again."

Bob reached across the table and took her hand. “Then don't. You don't have to sell the house."

"You don't understand. I want to rid myself of the burden."

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Honey, we don't need the money. We have enough to live on comfortably for the rest of our lives."

"I don't need the responsibility of that place. But I don't want to run into Hawkman either. The man scares me."

Bob stood and looked down into her eyes. “If you really think you need to make this trip, then do it the same way you did before. Go in quickly and get out. Give yourself a few days to get ready. Make an appointment with the title company, so they'll know the date of your arrival. And make sure you have all your paperwork."

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “You're right. I'll go next week."

Hawkman came into the office late and immediately put on the coffee pot. He hadn't slept much the last two nights since he'd been on surveillance until three in the morning. A father wanting full custody of his two small children had hired Hawkman to follow his estranged wife and prove her to be an unfit mother. So far, the woman had done nothing wrong. He'd asked one of his helpers to take over the mission today, so he could catch up at the office.

Just as he sat down at the desk and booted up the computer, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

A long-haired, bearded man poked his head around the edge. “You busy?"

"Not at the moment. What can I do for you?"

The tall seedy looking male wearing worn Levi's and a ragged tee shirt, slowly walked into the room, his gaze took in every piece of furniture and each picture on the wall.

"Have a seat,” Hawkman said, motioning toward the chair in front of the desk.

He sat down and stared at Hawkman with piercing blue eyes. His gaze didn't waver for several seconds. “You don't recognize me, do you?"

"No, but you look vaguely familiar."

The man reached up and brushed a hand over his mustache and beard. “You met me when I didn't have all this hair on my face."

"Yes, that alters a person's appearance dramatically. What's your name?"

"Carl Hopkins."

Hawkman felt his stomach tighten. “Yes, I remember you now. What are you doing here in Medford?"

"Looking for Jasmine Louise Gray or Schyler, which ever name she happens to be going by now. I'd like to find her."

"Why? I'd think you'd prefer to get as far away from that woman as possible."

He shrugged. “Because, I still love her. And I don't know where she went."

"She obviously didn't return the feeling. So, I'd advise you to forget the lady and find someone else."

"I searched the police files on the computer and didn't see anything about her getting arrested over the diamond heist. Did she get away?"

Hawkman didn't like the feel of these questions and doubted the man still loved Jamey. Carl had an ulterior motive, so Hawkman thought it best to guard his answers and get him out of the office. “I suspect she left the country. No one's seen or heard from her in over a year."

Carl's eyes narrowed with a threatening gaze. “I have a criminal record. I can't get a job and my life is ruined. All due to Jamey Gray, who got off scott free. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it Mr. Private Investigator?"

Hawkman stood, prepared to pull his gun from the shoulder holster if necessary. “You made the choice and suffered the consequences. I don't think you can blame anyone but yourself."

"I got conned into the whole thing. She and that bastard diamond courier set me up."

"Mr. Hopkins, forget revenge. It will only cause you trouble and you'll end up back in prison."

Carl rose abruptly and headed for the door. His hand on the knob, he turned and winked at Hawkman. “You tell Jamey to watch her back. Carl's out there. I'm going to find her one way or the other.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Hawkman strolled over to the open window and watched Hopkins climb into an old beat up gray Toyota sitting in front of the donut shop. He grabbed his binoculars off the file cabinet and quickly memorized the license plate. Through the open window, he heard the engine sputter several times before it caught. Then the vehicle limped out of the parking area and onto the street.

He recalled Jamey referring to Hopkins as a computer hacker and saying he'd taught her how to use the machine. Hawkman wondered if he still had those skills. A year ago, Hopkins wouldn't have found any evidence of Jamey in the Medford area. But now she had a recorded piece of property. Since Jamey's interest in the man revolved around stealing diamonds, he doubted she'd ever confided in him about the house or her late aunt. If Hopkins got on a computer and discovered this information, there'd be no telling how far he might go. It appeared Carl Hopkins had nothing to lose.

Hawkman stood at the window and watched the Toyota until it disappeared from his sight. Hopkins’ apparent instability concerned him. Not only about Jamey's life being threatened, but also Charley's safety.

Jamey's return to Medford to clear up the title mess appeared imminent. He figured she'd show up within the next two weeks. She'd move quickly, but it might not be fast enough. Her having no clue that Carl Hopkins was in the area, made it even more dangerous than Hawkman cared to think about.

And even if Hopkins appeared in front of Jamey, she'd never recognize him with the long mop of hair and a beard hiding half his face. But Carl would definitely know her, even if she arrived in disguise. Grisly thoughts ran through Hawkman's mind. Maybe he should speak with Detective Williams about Hopkin's visit so he could put his police force on alert.

He wrote down the license plate number and description of the Toyota, then went on the internet where he had special access to motor vehicle registrations. After finding the car, which had indeed been registered in Carl Hopkins’ name and purchased from a private party, he printed out the information and tucked it into his pocket.

Hawkman shut down the computer and had his hand on the door knob when the phone rang. He let the answering machine pick up until he heard Curly's familiar voice, then he hurried back to the desk and punched the speaker phone. “Curly, you son-of-a-gun. You caught me in the nick of time. I had my foot out the door."

"Hey, am I keeping you from a big business deal?"

He laughed. “Nope, just getting bored and thought I'd go buy a donut."

"That's an important mission, so I'll only keep you a minute. Had an interesting visitor at the bar last night and didn't think a whole lot about it at the time. But it's nagged me all day, so thought I'd give you a call."

"Go on, I'm listening."

"This longhaired, bearded guy came in. Don't get me wrong, I get lots of these types, but his questions threw me."

"Yeah."

"He asked when I'd last seen Jamey Schyler. Then he wanted to know if I knew where she'd gone."

Hawkman sat down and picked up a pencil. “So what'd you tell him?"

"That I hadn't seen her in over a year. And had no idea where she went. I thought it odd that some guy out of the blue asked about her. Is there something going on I should know?"

"You remember when Jamey worked for you and one night a guy came into the bar asking questions? She hid in the kitchen and another waitress pretended to be her?"

"How could I forget that ordeal. You were sitting right there on one of the stools. And the man got so mad I thought I'd have to call the cops. Don't tell me it's the same guy?"

"Yep. That's him. He also paid me a visit."

"I'll be damned. Where's he been for the past year?"

"Jail."

"Uh, oh. Doesn't sound good."

"Well, Jamey's not around, so he shouldn't cause any problems. Let's hope he gets out of town and forgets about her. Thanks for letting me know. If he shows up again, give me a call."

"Will do."

When Hawkman left the office, his gaze traveled across the parking lot searching for the gray Toyota. He climbed into the 4X4 and headed for the police station, keeping a watchful eye on the rearview mirror.

Hunched over his desk, Detective Williams had the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he signed papers. When he plopped a stack into the basket, he glanced up at Hawkman standing in the doorway and motioned for him to take the chair in front of the desk. A few minutes later, a young woman in her mid-thirties dashed into the room, grabbed the outgoing bunch of papers and placed more documents in front of him.

William finally hung up the phone and raked his fingernails over the day old stubble on his chin. “Man, we've had a busy morning."

"What's been happening?"

"Kids are runnin’ amuck. We don't have enough jobs in the city to keep them busy."

Hawkman frowned. “That's odd, I see ‘help wanted’ signs all over these fast food places."

"The wages aren't high enough. They want a salary to match their dads'. Craziest thing I've ever heard. Kids don't seem to realize that one works up the ladder, life doesn't start at the top.” The detective sighed, then glanced at him with a puzzled look. “You look different. You get a haircut?"

Hawkman chuckled, thinking of his new mustache. “Nope. I've lost weight."

Williams nodded. “What can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to give you a heads up warning."

The detective frowned. “Yeah?"

"Remember Carl Hopkins?"

"The diamond heist guy?"

"That's him. He paid me a visit this morning."

"Boy, time passes fast. Guess he's been released. What the hell he want?"

"To find Jamey Schyler."

Williams’ expression turned solemn. “I don't like the implications of that request."

"Neither do I, especially since the girl might be coming into the area."

The detective's head jerked up. “What! How do you know this?"

Hawkman told him the events of the past two weeks. “I'm pretty sure this Shirley Ann Noland who met Charley for lunch was Jamey Schyler in disguise."

The detective slapped a hand on the stack of papers. “Seems wherever that female shows up, there's trouble."

"I agree. I figure if she comes into town, she'll only be here a day or two to clear up the title. And I'm praying Carl Hopkins never spots her."

"Do you have any idea when she'll arrive?"

"None. And I doubt Charley will be informed. But we might be able to get the information from the title company."

Williams leaned back in his chair. “I'll go over there on police business. And make sure they inform me if and when she's coming in."

Hawkman raised his brows and grinned. “That's a great idea."

"It's a hell of a lot better than having a murder on my hands. Maybe we could supply some sort of protection."

"If you find out her arrival time, let me know and I'll tail her."

"Sounds good. Did you by any chance get a description of Hopkins’ vehicle?"

"Sure did. And checked it out. Appears he bought it locally.” Hawkman removed the paper from his pocket and handed it to the detective. “It's a real junker. He definitely won't be outrunning any cop cars."

Williams studied the report then glanced at Hawkman. “Wonder if he has a gun?"

Hawkman cocked his head and rubbed his jaw. “Good question."

Williams picked up a pen and signed his name to the next form. “Sure would be useful to know,” he mumbled.

Detective Williams checked a ledger on his desk. “In fact, why don't we run over to the American Title company right now. I've got a couple of free hours."

Hawkman liked that idea. “Sure, let's go. We can take my 4X4."

Williams nodded. “I think the police force will approve."

The two men left the station and drove to the title company. When they entered the office, a young receptionist at the front desk, a handsfree microphone clamped over her head, glanced up and smiled. “May I help you gentlemen."

Williams flashed his badge. “I'd like to talk to the person handling the Rachel Smith property."

Her smile never faded as she spoke softly into the mouth piece and then typed on the computer. Within seconds, she pointed toward some cubicles that lined the far wall. “If you'll have a seat in the second unit, Marge Randolph will be right with you."

This information pleased Hawkman, as the woman in charge of the title transfer appeared to be Jennifer's friend. They went into the small office where the detective took the chair in front of the desk and Hawkman took one against the wall.

A slim woman, dressed in a gray tailored pants suit, her dark brown hair styled in a neat ‘bob’ coiffure, entered the office. Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled at Hawkman. “Good to see you. How's Jennifer? I can hardly wait to read her new mystery series."

Hawkman stood. “She's working hard on them.” He then introduced Detective Williams.

Marge shook his hand. “I've seen you here on several occasions, but don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you. Our receptionist says you're interested in the Rachel Smith property.” She walked around the desk and sat down.

The detective also sat, then leaned forward. “Yes. I'm here on police business and very interested to know if Jamey Schyler will have to come in person to do any of the transactions on this property."

She frowned. “Is this woman in trouble with the law? I can't help but wonder with your interest in this transaction."