Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14] (6 page)

"Interesting. You said she couldn't write, what about read?"

"Yes, she knows how to read simple stuff, like some of the questions on the forms, but big words threw her. I found it odd, she could only write her name, as you'd think she would have taught herself by just copying words. Of course, it could all be a ploy, so I wouldn't find out too much. She speaks well, but I gather she's had little education. Oh, she doesn't know her address, so I just put ours down. Maybe not such a good idea, but I didn't want getting Randy out of the hospital to become a big problem."

"If we get a bill, we'll just take it to them, if we don't get our heads shot off."

Jennifer soon turned into their driveway and pulled into the garage. “How'd Miss Marple do without me here?"

"She missed you, and hunted through each room trying to find where you'd gone. I even caught her crawling under the bed. Soon, she gave up, then wouldn't let me out of her sight."

When they walked into the house, the feline greeted Hawkman, but completely ignored Jennifer.

"Uh, oh, I'm getting punished. Wonder how long she'll tune me out?"

Hawkman laughed. “Enjoy it."

"These last few days have been quite an experience,” Jennifer said, flopping down in her chair. “It's good to be home."

"How about a gin and tonic?"

"Sounds wonderful."

"I guess you're wondering how come things went so smoothly at the hospital since they'd just admitted a boy with a gun wound?"

"Yes, it did enter my mind. I assumed you had something to do with it."

"I filled out an accident report and faxed it to the doctors in charge."

"It certainly saved us from unnecessary questions."

"How bad is Randy's injury?"

"A clean wound. The doctor put in a few stitches, and didn't want him breaking it open. He warned him not to put any weight on the leg and to use the crutches for a couple of weeks."

"How'd the baby do during your stay?"

"Marcy's a doll. One of the best infants I've ever come across. However, she did come down with an ear infection, and we had a doctor check her. He prescribed ear drops and antibiotics, so she'll be fine in a few days. I worry about Beth. She'll have her hands full, and won't get any help from her sorry husband."

Hawkman brought her drink and took his chair. “There's something fishy about this whole scenario. Since I haven't had a chance to get to the courthouse, I'll go tomorrow and find out who owns the property. If I can contact him or her, it may help us get a handle on this whole situation."

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Friday morning, Hawkman grabbed his clothes, sneaked out of the bedroom and closed the door. He doubted Jennifer had received much rest, considering what she'd been through the last couple of days. After he dressed, he filled Miss Marple's food dish and water bowl, whispering to the spoiled feline who'd wrapped around his leg. “I hope this keeps you from yowling. Let your mistress sleep. You have my permission to stay mad at her for another day."

He left the cat at her feeding station, downed a bowl of dry cereal, and departed. Fortunately, he only had to drive into Yreka to the county courthouse where he'd find the property listed. The only problem he foresaw would be if the land was subdivided between several owners. If his memory served him right, he remembered several years ago a discussion among homeowners about a man who'd bought a huge portion of land in the area near the old railroad. He'd heard nothing about it since, so he hoped it was still held by only one proprietor.

Arriving in Yreka, he drove straight to the courthouse and went inside. He knew a few of the people and spotted Sally behind the counter. “Hi, Sally."

She glanced up and smiled. “Mr. Casey, it's been quite awhile since you've graced our doors. How can I help you?"

"I want to find the owner of some property, but I'll need to look at a map, as I have no statistics to help me."

"Sure. Let's go to my station."

She moved through a swinging gate and he followed her to a desk tucked in the corner of the room. Motioning for him to take a seat, she slid into her chair behind the computer. “Okay, where do we need to go?"

"Slightly northwest of Copco Lake, near the old railroad tracks."

Her fingers flew over the keys, and she soon turned her computer toward him. She pointed. “Is this the area?"

He studied the screen for a moment. “Yes.” Then ran his finger along a line. “I'd like to know who owns the parcels west of this road."

"How far do you want to extend the boundary?"

Hawkman pointed to a creek. “A bit past here."

Sally jotted down the numbers on a sheet of paper, then typed them into the computer. “There are two forty acre parcels, owned by a Jacob Hutchinson. There's a small house, a barn, and several outbuildings on one piece, nothing on the other."

Hawkman leaned forward and furrowed his brow. “Did you say Hutchinson?"

She nodded. “Yes, Jacob Hutchinson."

"How long has he owned this property?"

"Over ten years."

"Where do you send the property tax bills?"

She glanced at the monitor. “Medford, Oregon. You want his address?"

"Yes, please."

She took a pad of paper and wrote it down. “Here you go,” she said, tearing off the sheet and handing it to him.

Hawkman stood. “Thanks, Sally. Appreciate your time."

"No problem. All part of my job. Wish more requests were as easy as yours."

He left the courthouse, baffled by the land being owned by a relative, possibly a father or a brother. Jeb obviously spoke the truth when he said he had permission to be on the property.

When he arrived home, he told Jennifer of his discovery.

She tapped her chin. “I find your bit of news fascinating. So how are you going to move on this information?"

"Jacob Hutchinson has lived in Medford for many years. I might be able to find him on the computer and get a bit of history."

"You think he'll talk to you?"

Hawkman shrugged. “All I can do is try."

"I have a feeling it's the father of Jeb Hutchinson."

"Hard to say. Could be a brother, grandfather or the dad. I'll know more when I see him in person."

"Good luck. Keep me informed,” Jennifer said, as she turned toward her computer, and Hawkman continued down the hallway to his home office.

He decided first to check the Medford phone book out of curiosity, and see if the man was listed. Not finding it in his side desk drawer, where he normally kept it, he wandered back into the living room and searched.

Jennifer raised her head. “Whoops, bet you're looking for the Medford directory. I have it here. I forgot to take it back to your office."

"No problem. Why did you need it?"

"Looking for baby stuff."

He furrowed his brow. “Why?"

She exhaled. “I wanted to see if Medford had one of those consignment shops where they sell used baby equipment. Beth has nothing for the infant, except the handmade cradle, which is lovely, but Marcy will soon outgrow it."

Hawkman studied his wife. “You really like her, don't you?"

"Yes. Also, I feel very sorry for the family. I don't understand why Jeb hasn't piped water into the cabin. There's a windmill near the back of the house, and I bet if he tinkered with it a little, he could get it working again."

Hawkman nodded. “I think he has other things on his mind."

"For instance?"

"I don't know, but I hope to find out.” He scooted the directory out from under Miss Marple. “Sorry, girl, I need this more than you.” He chuckled. “Looks like she's forgiven you for leaving her."

Jennifer laughed. “Yes, she's followed me around all day, making sure I don't get out of her sight."

Hawkman carried the book back to his desk, and opened it to the ‘H's'. Running his finger down the columns, he came to several Hutchinsons. Several had a ‘J’ as the first initial, but no addresses. It appeared he'd have to do a search on the computer.

After the machine booted up, he went to the secure website and put in his password. Once accepted, he typed in Jacob Hutchinson, Medford, Oregon. It only took a few seconds for the site to respond, and the name appeared on the screen. Disappointed with the sparse information, he printed out the couple of paragraphs which stated the man had lived at the same place for twenty years. No background data appeared as to what he'd done for a living or where he'd resided before. Hawkman thought this odd, but some things do get blocked. No reason has to be given. Just like the statistics on himself. There were none; he'd checked.

He shut down the computer and meandered into the living room. Finding his briefcase next to his chair he slid the paper inside.

"Did you find anything of interest?” Jennifer asked.

"Very little. I know it was the same man, as the address matched the one I got at the courthouse. I'll pay Jacob Hutchinson a visit tomorrow."

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As Hawkman rolled across the bridge heading for Medford, he glanced out over Copco Lake as the sun's beams bounced off the still water. It appeared like twinkling diamonds on a woman's finger. A nip in the air gave warning that old man winter wasn't through. He liked this time of year.

His mind went to thoughts of Randy. He'd been schooled at one time, but obviously no one seemed in a hurry to get him enrolled again. This worried Hawkman. The boy had a good mind and it shouldn't be wasted. Maybe Jennifer could talk with Beth about the possibilities of getting him back into school. He had no idea of Earl's age, but figured somewhere around sixteen.

He soon arrived at the outskirts of town; knowing the area of Hutchinson's address, he made the turns which led him into a neighborhood of older homes. A few had well-kept yards; others were overgrown, and needed attention. Once on the right street, he took the piece of paper Sally had given him at the courthouse, and glanced at the numbers. For some odd reason, when he came across the home, it didn't surprise him to find it run-down and in need of a good paint job. The lawn hadn't been trimmed in several weeks and the bushes had grown wild.

Hawkman studied the front for a moment before climbing out. He could see the flicker of light shining through the sheer drapes covering the front window. When he reached the entry and knocked, he heard the barking of a dog and heavy footsteps of someone approaching.

A man hovering around his mid-sixties, beer belly and greasy, dirty gray hair opened the door. “Yeah, whatcha want?” he asked.

A medium sized brown dog stood at his side, growling.

"Shut-up Mutt. Go lay down.” He pointed his cane toward the back of the room. The mongrel lowered his head, and with his tail between his legs, retreated.

The old fellow looked up at Hawkman. “Well, who are ya and why ya here?"

"I'm Tom Casey, private investigator, looking for Jacob Hutchinson."

"The senior edition or the junior."

Hawkman scratched his sideburn. “I'm not sure. Which one owns the property at Copco Lake?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Not sure. That's why I'm here."

"You might as well come in. My legs won't allow me to stand too long."

He opened the screen door and Hawkman stepped inside. The stench almost made him recoil, and flee back to the fresh air. He couldn't tell if it came from filth, spoiled food, or both.

"Are you Jacob Hutchinson? The man who owns the property?"

"Yeah, I'm the guy. My dear old father is in his room. He's eighty-five and not doing very good."

"I'm sorry. So you own the property alone? No wife?"

"She died many years ago. So you wanna buy the land?"

"No, I just wanted to notify you there's someone living in the cabin on your property."

He waved a hand. “I know, it's my no-good son and his redskin woman. He got out of jail about a year and a half ago and couldn't find a job. Since they were living in a tent under a bridge, I told them they could live out there. Figured it'd be better since they have kids.” The old fellow frowned. “Are they causing a ruckus?"

"No, but it's very primitive. No running water or electricity."

He pointed a finger in the air. “There's a beautiful well out there, all he's got to do is get off his lazy butt and get it working again."

"Why was he in prison?"

"Vehicular manslaughter. Driving while drunk as a skunk, ran over a man and killed him. The jury gave him five years, but he got out in three, due to good behavior."

Hawkman headed for the door. “I won't worry about your relatives on the property. I just wanted to be sure you knew about it."

"I appreciate your concern. If you talk to them, you tell them his old man said to behave or he'll have them kicked off. Also tell that lazy no-good Jeb, to get the well going."

"I'll do that, sir."

When Hawkman stepped outside, he gulped in fresh air, as he headed for his SUV. He kept the window down on his way home, as he felt his clothes reeked of the horrible odor. When he reached the house, he went in the side door and disrobed. He shoved all his clothes into the washer and placed his boots outside on the porch to air. Adding soap, he flipped on the machine, then peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. He streaked through the living room to the bedroom, and heard Jennifer howling with laughter as he stepped into the shower.

He finally emerged from the stall, dried, dressed in clean clothes and strolled into the living room. Glancing at his wife, he muttered. “I had a bad day."

"For heaven's sake, what happened? Did you get sprayed by a skunk?"

"Not quite that bad, but almost. You will not believe this story."

"Try me."

He shooed Miss Marple from the chair next to Jennifer's computer, and sat down. “I met Mr. Jacob Hutchinson. A short, dirty man, greasy hair and a filthy cane. He invited me inside and I kid you not, I thought I'd puke at the smell. I didn't dare take a seat, as the couch was covered in stains, the chairs were loaded with dirty clothes, and the dog smelled of urine. I gathered the older Mr. Hutchinson was lying in a gross bed back in one of the bedrooms, probably dying. The stench still lingers in my nose, even though I scrubbed every inch of my body."