Decoys by Richard Hoyt

Author:Richard Hoyt
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781590772737
Publisher: M. Evans & Company

Eleven

PAMELA YEW AND I went our separate ways after our fun with Sam’s boys. I wondered why the federal government would be interested in a piece of art. But Pamela, at least, knew what she was looking for. I didn’t. I found a diner, bought a newspaper and a cup of coffee, and settled down to relax. I didn’t relax long.

On the first page of the metro section was a photograph of a young woman who had been left naked in a filthy alley, beaten to within an inch of her life. Both eyes were swollen shut. She had lost several teeth, not to mention her bruises and two fractured ribs.

Her assailant had left her in the cold rain with a tag wired around her neck. The tag was to the point: “Listen up, sister. Be back by sundown or I’ll finish what I started.”

The story was by Wayne Phillips. It said the woman, in shock and unable to talk, was under police guard at the hospital. The police did not know her name. They didn’t know who her sister was, either.

I knew her name. I also knew her sister. She was Linda Armstrong Hammond. A sadist she had married, for reasons known only to her, had grown tired of waiting for me to call. Why spend a dime for a telephone call when you can get the newspapers to run your message for free? All you have to do is mash your wife’s face in and the photographers will compete to record the results. All of Seattle got to participate in the fun over a cup of coffee.

I was enraged—enraged at her pain, at her humiliation, at the invasion of her privacy. I was enraged at Hammond’s assumption that he was out of harm’s way, that nobody, not the police, not me, could do anything to stop him from having his way. I amused him; I didn’t even carry a gun.

Well, I was smarter than him. What I could do was take from him whatever it was Pamela Yew was after and see his rear in prison. Nobody was gonna stop me.

I looked at the picture again and felt sick, impotent, because I had tried to be civilized.

I thought about calling Wayne Phillips to go with me to the hospital but decided against it. I might find something useful; I needed more for a quid pro quo. When I got to the hospital I found Sergeant Timothy Drummond in charge. Timmy was an okay guy. He was one of the best volleyball players in the department. He played the guitar and wasn’t a bad painter. He also had a daughter Linda’s age.

I told Timmy the girl’s name and asked if I could go inside. Timmy tugged at his belt and looked up and down the hall.

“You say her name’s Linda Armstrong Hammond,” he said. He made a note on a small pad.

“Like I say, she used to be a neighbor of mine back home.”

Timmy bit his lip. “I’m under orders not to let anybody in there, Denson.

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