CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hawk and Janita got out of that Maserati feeling as if they’d been on a wild circus ride the way Von drove them there, but Von bounced out from the driver’s seat like a young man living the dream. They all headed for Greta Jacobs’ front door.
“Is that her car?” Janita asked as they walked past an older model Toyota Corolla.
“I have no idea,” Hawk said. He didn’t know what his secretary drove. He didn’t know anything about her personal life nor the personal lives of any of his staffers. Which, now that he thought about it, was a shame.
He rang her doorbell, got no answer, and then knocked vigorously on her front door. But still no answer.
While Janita looked through the windows around front, Von went to the side. “Hawk!” he yelled out.
When they heard him call, they hurried around to the side of the modest home too. Von was at a sliding glass door. “It’s unlocked,” he said.
Hawk quickly slid it open and then the three of them walked inside what was a kitchen area. He and Janita had their guns drawn.
“Greta?” Hawk called out. “Greta, it’s me, Hawk. Greta?”
But he got no response at all. From what they could see in the kitchen, everything was neat and tidy and orderly. Nothing looked out of place. But when they walked out of that kitchen, through her smallish dining room, and then into the living room, that was when everything changed.
Greta Jacobs was leaned back in a recliner with a tray of food on her lap. She looked as if she was taking a nap. And that would have been their conclusion. Until they saw the bullet hole in her forehead.
“Ah man!” Von said as soon as he saw her. He quickly turned away. That was the part of the job he couldn’t stomach.
Janita couldn’t stomach it either, but instead of turning away from it, she held her revolver with both hands, and began looking around.
Hawk went over to Greta and felt for a pulse. There was none. And by the stench she might have been dead for more than one day. He tightened his grip on his revolver, too. “DeVontay?”
Von reluctantly turned back around. “Sir?”
“Keep an eye on your sister,” Hawk said as he began walking toward the back of the house.
Von knew not to even try to contain Janita, but he refused to let her out of his sight as she looked around the kitchen, the dining room, and then back into the living room.
But Von remained in the kitchen, checking for false doors in the walls and even beneath the cabinets.
After what happened at Ellen’s Boutique, he was taking no chances.
But when Von was still in the dining room and kitchen, Janita was once again checking out the living room. And that was when she saw it. Or at least she thought she saw it. Until she got up closer. “What the?”
At first, she frowned. She had to have seen it wrong. Had to! She even went even closer to that fireplace mantel for a better look. When she realized she wasn’t seeing things, she called for Hawk.
Hawk, who saw nothing in those backrooms, rushed back up front. “What’s wrong?”
Janita looked at him. Then she motioned toward the various pictures on the mantelpiece. “Look.”
Hawk looked. At first, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Just photos of Greta with various people.
But then . . . He frowned. And he leaned in closer.
“It can’t be,” he said with a perplexed look on his face as he reached near the back of those picture frames and grabbed the one both he and Janita could not believe.
But while they were staring at that picture, the sliding glass door in the kitchen opened again, and Shelly walked in, along with Eagle Records chief of security Bob Lassiter.
“Hawk!” Von called out. “Shelly and some man just came in!”
Shelly smiled.
“What man?” Hawk asked as he and Janita hurried to the kitchen. When they made it into the kitchen, and Hawk saw Shelly with Lassie, he exhaled. “You scared the shit out of me, Von.”
“Who is he?” Janita asked.
“That’s Bob Lassiter. My chief of security.”
“Oh!”
“Where’s Gret?” Shelly asked. “I see her car’s still parked in her driveway.” But when Hawk shook his head, Shelly was concerned. “What?”
Hawk led the entire group into the living room. When Shelly and Lassie saw Greta, they both stopped in their tracks. Then Lassie hurried over to check her pulse. “Damn,” Shelly said. “Somebody murdered her?” Then he looked at Hawk as if Hawk did it. “Why would somebody murder Greta?”
“How should I know? But check this out,” Hawk said as he handed that picture to Shelly.
“What is it?” Von asked, as he looked too. And he was as floored as they were. “Chief Donnally?” he asked with shock in his voice. “That’s Chief Donnally!”
And that was exactly who it was. Greta Jacobs was in that photo being hugged by Dale Donnally of the Brackenridge Police Department.
But Shelly was more confused than shocked. “I had no idea Greta knew that bastard.”
“Neither did I,” Hawk said as he took the frame from Shelly, turned it over, and took out the photograph. But he found a second photo hidden behind the first one.
When they saw who it was, Hawk and Shelly looked at each other. It was a photo of Percy Jacobs, the young man who attempted to assassinate Hawk at Eagle Records. He was standing alone in the photograph, smiling into the camera. “I’ll be damn,” Hawk said.
Then Hawk searched for any write up on the back of both photos. And he found it: To Dale, for coming to my rescue. Thank you for being you, was the handwritten caption on Donnally’s photo.
The handwritten caption on the back of Percy’s photo was even more telling: “To my beloved baby boy. Your death will not be in vain.”
“Shit,” Hawk said. “If that don’t sound like revenge, I don’t know what does.”
“But Percy was her son?” Shelly was still blown away by that fact alone.
“She never once said a word about that boy being her son. Even when he and that sorry-ass band of his was trying out for a contract with Eagle, Greta never once said a word. She even asked me what happened long after he was killed, as if her ass didn’t already know.
And he was her son? Lassie and his guys took out her son? Shit!”
Lassiter came from searching the back of the house and took a look at the photos too. “Who’s the big guy?”
“The police chief of our illustrious hometown,” said Shelly snidely. “Racist bastard.”
“I see,” said Lassiter with little to no emotion, which caught Janita and Von’s attention. He didn’t even respond to the fact that Percy Jacobs, the young man he had a hand in killing, was his co-worker’s son. Like he already knew he was.
“Wonder what she means by Donnally coming to her rescue?” Janita asked.
Hawk searched the date stamps on both photos. “Donnally’s photo was taken after Percy’s,” Hawk said.
“Which means Percy was already dead when he came to her rescue.”
Hawk nodded. “Right. Which undoubtedly means he came to help her avenge her son’s death.”
“But how would Donnally even know her?” Shelly asked. “And why would he help her? What was in it for him?”
“I don’t know,” Hawk said. “But I’m going to find out.”
“How you want me to play it, Boss?” Lassiter asked.
“Order your guys to get over here, wait until they get a call from you, and then they’ll call the cops. I don’t want to have to answer to the LAPD until I talk to Donnally. He’s the key,” Hawk said as he began hurrying out of that side door.
“I’ll wait here,” Lassiter said.
“No, you won’t.” Shelly nixed that plan. “We may need you in Brackenridge. You’re coming too,” he said, as they all hurried behind Hawk.