Hinky (14)

The easiest time to hide a crime is when it is committed. All the elements are present and capable of being disposed of. A decade or more later, it is impossible to know what traces have survived and who, in fact, may be interested in them. Yates had lived with the belief that he was officially free and clear of his past even though it was accurately recorded in the memories of three—now two—participants and vaguely noted amongst a hierarchy that preferred not to know further details if it could be avoided.

That he had been relegated to the rank of sergeant in perpetuity had been sufficient punishment in the eyes of the Department. An innocent would have demanded a formal inquest to clear away the innuendo and open the path to higher rank; something Yates, for good reason, had not done. Thus, he had accepted his status of pariah and the matter had been put to rest. Recent events, however, evidenced that it had not only come back to life, but someone seemed to have a vital interest in catalyzing it into some form of retribution.

What bothered Yates was not knowing who could possibly have taken an interest. Jessie Joe Patterson had been eliminated from the equation, both literally and figuratively, and Horvath could have no sane reason for drawing attention to the matter. Clive was a wild card and a phantom of sorts, but was he the interested party or a representative? What was motivating the action; blackmail, revenge?

As he sat in his car in the garage of his apartment building, the idea that what you don’t know can’t hurt you passed through his mind. Yates knew this to be erroneous. He then gave thought to the A.A. prayer, “God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change…” that a Department psychiatrist had tried to impress upon him under the mistaken assumption that Yates’ antipathy for just about everything stemmed from an addiction to the bottle. This, owing to its acceptance by what seemed to be a majority of people on the planet, gave him a small amount of comfort as though it might provide some sort of immunity.

Having entered into this uncharacteristic, philosophical frame of mind, Yates looked up to see a man aiming a shotgun at him. He registered the blast emanating from the barrel before embracing a profound darkness full of quiet.

More to folow...
(c)2006 Stephen Mitchell