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

tail.
    Kyra nudged Sarah McDougal on. “So you headed up the road.”
    â€œYes. And Willie was already there and barking his head off. I was hobbling along, but Willie had found that poor boy. He just lying there, there wasn’t much light but I could tell he shouldn’t be lying like that. And when I got close I could see what was maybe blood, and I was scared—wanted to get away from there quick as I could.” She smiled, a sad little curve of the lips. “Which wasn’t very fast.” The smile went away. “But faster than usual, and I got home and I told Marcie, that’s my daughter, what I’d seen, and she grabbed her cell phone and ran up the road and she called 911. Well, the police came, sirens and all the lights flashing. Everybody on the block was there. And the police asked me questions, but I was so upset I couldn’t remember very much.”
    â€œDid they talk to you the next day?” Noel now, fearing Mrs. McDougal would tire.
    â€œOh yes, and once after that. I told them everything. The poor boy. How is he?”
    â€œHe’s in a coma,” Kyra said. “Is there anything else you can remember?”
    â€œI don’t think I know anything else.”
    Noel stood, and Kyra. She said, “Thank you, Mrs. McDougal. You’ve been very helpful.”
    Grabbing the arms of the walker she pulled herself to her feet. “Have I? I told all this to the police. Have they found out who did it?” She led them to the door.
    â€œThey’re working on it.”
    She opened the door. “I can’t remember . . .”
    Kyra said, “What’s that, Mrs. McDougal?”
    â€œIf I mentioned—the truck across the street. With a canopy on the back, or maybe it was a van. Can you ask them that? If I did?”
    â€œWe will. Thank you again. Goodbye.”
    They headed back toward the Honda, the foliage along the sidewalk thick but penetrable. A man in a second truck or a van. With the group? What was that all about? They walked past Jason in the car and approached the yellow gate. Noel said, “Three groups meeting. One of them is Derek. A fourth arrives earlier. Two, then the fourth, leave. Derek, left lying on the ground. How do you see it?”
    Kyra studied the path ahead, the trees along the side. She walked to the curve and followed the road. Open but overgrown—not a place for a casual stroll. No broken branches or empty matchbooks advertising a locale the mayhem provider usually frequented. No footprints on the dry ground. She needed to pee; a little privacy? She came back to the gate. “Okay. Either Derek was beaten by whoever was in the truck and the car that parked up here, and then they left. Or they left and Derek was okay and didn’t leave with them. Maybe waiting for the guy in the truck across the street, or maybe not expecting him but that’s who beat him up.”
    â€œRight,” said Noel. “Does that get us anywhere?”
    â€œWe’ve got a couple of hypotheses.”
    He grinned. “Moving forward, partner.”
    â€œWe’d better find Derek’s doctor.”
    In the car they told Jason what they’d learned from Sarah McDougal. He’d heard all that from the police. Including the second truck? He didn’t remember. They drove down Evergreen. “Jase. Does Derek get along okay with most people?” asked Noel.
    â€œWhat d’you mean?”
    â€œAnybody who didn’t like him? Enough to beat him up?” She watched as Jason’s left shoulder slowly drooped. “What, do you suspect somebody?”
    Jason’s head shook, just a little. “No. I wish I did.”
    Noel glanced at him. “You think it was gratuitous? Derek just happened to be here? It could’ve been anybody passing by?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhat was Derek doing here?”
    â€œI don’t know that either.”
    â€œWho