Free Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island by Sandy Frances Duncan, George Szanto

her.”
    â€œMmm.” Jason considered the question. “Don’t really know. He likes her, you can see that. Doesn’t tell me much. If he talked about her more, it’d be with Linda.”
    Like son, like father, Kyra thought. “I had a sense Linda doesn’t find Cindy a total charmer.”
    â€œIt’s not so much she doesn’t like her, it’s—I don’t know, kind of—see, they’re both so young, Linda thinks Derek’s got to finish his schooling, find a profession—he’s good with big machines, but he needs to get work. Cindy’s okay, but—you know what I mean?”
    Could mean lots of things, Jason, but I don’t know which ones you mean.
    â€œLet’s find Sarah McDougal,” said Noel.
    Jason returned to the car. Kyra and Noel went up the walk to a white-shingled house. Kyra rang the bell. From behind the door the sharp yips of a dog. Then a voice said, “My daughter’s not here.”
    Kyra said, “It’s you we want to talk to, Mrs. McDougal.”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œWe’re investigating the beating of the young man. We hear you found him.”
    The door opened a crack, a chain across the space. White curly hair, thick glasses covering brown eyes above a red nose. The dog yipped harder. “Go lie down!” The dog shrank away. “You’re not the police.”
    Kyra said, “No, we’re friends of the young man’s father, we’re trying to help him.”
    â€œWell, come in.” The door closed, re-opened wider without the chain. “This was once a peaceful neighbourhood.” Noel closed the front door. Using a walker, she led the way into a living room to the right. She sat on a straight-backed red-upholstered chair. “Have a seat.”
    Noel and Kyra sat on a white couch. “Can you tell us about that evening?”
    â€œToo many cars, too many.”
    â€œCars?”
    â€œWillie and I were going to take a walk—” she pointed to the dog, now lying on a blanket—“that’s Willie. All these cars kept roaring by, right up to the cement blocks. And one across the street. And they parked there for a while.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œTen minutes? Fifteen? I don’t know, I didn’t have a watch.”
    â€œDo you know what kind of cars?”
    â€œAnd trucks. I told all this to the police.”
    Noel asked, “How many trucks?”
    â€œThat I know. One up there. And two cars.”
    â€œOld? New?”
    â€œI don’t know those things. I don’t follow vehicle styles.”
    â€œAnd where were you?”
    â€œJust outside the door. Willie didn’t want to go for his walk with all those people there. Did you, Willie?” Willie looked up for a moment. “We waited till they left and—oh, we waited after that too. I think.”
    â€œAnd why was that?” Kyra spoke as gently as she could.
    Mrs. McDougal squeezed her eyes tight. “I’m trying to remember . . .” Her eyes opened wide. “The other truck. Across the street. Somebody had got out. He was the second. He walked toward the first truck, I remember that. Then I didn’t see him anymore. Then the other cars came, and finally they drove away. Roaring down the road. I just wanted them gone so we could go for our walk.”
    â€œBut they didn’t?”
    â€œThe cars, yes.” She sounded confused. “I just said that, didn’t I?”
    â€œYes, you did,” Kyra said softly.
    â€œThen the man came back to the truck here and got in and made a U-turn and he was gone too. But the other truck was still up there. Willie and I waited. And then, I thought I’d figured it out—maybe the people from the truck had gotten rides in one of the other vehicles. So if nobody was up there it was safe to go for our walk. I said that to you, didn’t I, Willie?” Willie thumped his