“Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Liar.”
“That’s pretty harsh, Melinda.”
“It’s the truth. I’d say sit down but then I’d have to make up the couch and there’s no point in doing that since you’re not staying that long.”
She put her purse down on the table, headed toward the small kitchen, and started to unpack her groceries. I sat at the edge of the bed, probably the same bed Francis Hoyt and her shared in the not too distant past.
“You know your boyfriend’s a lying, son-of-a-bitch, don’t you?”
“If you’re trying to get on my good side that wouldn’t be the best way to start.”
“You’re much too smart to go for bullshit. And you know I’m telling you the truth about him. I’m betting by now you’ve Googled him or whatever you women use to find out about men.”
She came back into the room carrying two beers. She handed me one and sat down beside me.
“Thanks.”
“Thank my mother for teaching me manners.”
“You didn’t tell him about our earlier visit, did you?”
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Because we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I didn’t want to upset him.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t tell him because you know all about him now and you’re a little scared.”
“So what if I am?”
“You’re a smart woman. You know enough to fear a man like that when he’s backed into a corner. This is not the kind of life you want for yourself, Melinda. It’s not the kind of life your mother wants for you either.”
“My mother’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know her.”
“I’m sorry for anyone who loses a parent. And I’m sorry for you because you don’t deserve what Hoyt has in store for you.”
“How do you know what he has in store for me?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve known plenty of Francis Hoyts. They all have one thing in common.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“They’re all about themselves. They don’t give a shit about anyone else. He only cares about himself and the minute you get in the way he’ll be finished with you. So, if you think you have any kind of future with him, you’re wrong.”
She began to cry. I don’t know what to do with a woman when she cries. When my wife cried, I left the room. That’s probably why she eventually stopped crying and left me.
I thought maybe I should put my arm around her shoulder, to comfort her. But then I thought that would be wrong. Let her cry. Let her think about what it meant to be involved with Hoyt. Let her think about the consequences of being involved with a man who steals for a living, a man who has no compunction about breaking into someone else’s home and violating their space.
Does this shit make me feel good? No. But I made peace with it a long time ago. It’s an ugly business, but that’s not my fault. It’s the fault of guys like Hoyt and all the other assholes out there who decide it’s easier to lie and cheat and steal and murder than to live the way the rest of us do: by the rules. Believe me, I struggle with myself every time I get in a situation like this, a situation where I have to do something hurtful to someone who’s an innocent bystander. Women like Melinda Shaw and Evie Kerns are victims just as much as the family that has their privacy invaded, their space defiled, their belongings stolen. But I have a job to do and this, as much as I might hate it, is part of the job. I hate people like Francis Hoyt, not only for what they do to people, but for what they make people like me do to people like Melinda Shaw.
She looked at me. Her tears had made dark streaks, like riverbeds, down her cheeks. She wasn’t quite so pretty anymore. She seemed physically smaller, as if she’d shrunk from the tears. I could have let it be but I knew now that I was close, I had to push her over the edge. One day, I knew, I might go over the edge with her. But today wasn’t going to be that day.
“The other woman, Evie Kerns, has disappeared. You know what that means, don’t you?”
She wasn’t ready for words yet so she shook her head.
“It means Hoyt has already seen to it that she can’t help us. You’re the only one left, and believe me it won’t be long until he takes care of you. He’ll figure out you’re the weak link. Maybe he’ll even find out we’ve spoken.”
She looked at me, her eyes daggers. “How would he know that?”
“Maybe he’s having you followed.”
She took a deep breath. The words I was waiting to hear, bottled up in her till now, were ready to come.
“What do you want to know?”
“I need to know everything, Melinda. I need to know where Hoyt is now, what he’s planning.”
“He doesn’t talk to me about those kinds of things.”
“I didn’t expect he would. But women know things. I don’t know how you know them but you do. You know something that can help me.”
She nodded. She got up and went to the small table where she’d dropped her purse. She picked it up and sat back down next to me. She squeezed the purse tightly to her chest. She was still debating with herself as to whether she was going to help me. I knew how this would turn out the minute she got up to retrieve the purse.
“You’re doing the right thing, Melinda. The only thing.”
“I know,” she said in a voice so low I could hardly hear it. This was tough for her but I knew if she didn’t do it it would be even tougher. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“What do you want to happen to you?”
“I wish I knew.”
“You’re going through a tough time now. I know that. I’ve been through it, too. You feel like your life is falling apart. The divorce. Hoyt…”
“I wish I’d never met him.”
“That bridge has already been crossed. But now you’ve got an opportunity to make things right. You can start over.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Getting rid of Hoyt is the first step.”
I felt like a goddamn TV shrink, like Dr. Phil, or, even worse, a priest. I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about but it sure sounded good. Maybe I was right. Maybe getting rid of Hoyt was the first step in getting her life back on track. It couldn’t get any worse, that’s for sure. And for that reason alone, I knew I had nothing to feel guilty about. Getting her to betray Hoyt was the right thing, even if she was doing it for the wrong reason.
She opened her purse and stared into it for a moment. Finally, she dug around and came up with a piece of paper. She handed it to me.
“When he was still asleep I went through his wallet. I found this.”
I unfolded it. “What is this?”
“It’s a motel receipt. Well, it’s not actually the receipt because I didn’t want to take it because he’d know I did. So, I wrote down all the information. The motel. A name. It’s not his name but it must be him.”
The name was Michael Leiman. I seemed to remember from the folder Manny gave me that this was one of the names Hoyt sometimes used. I even recognized the name of the motel. The Enchanted Hunter, in Litchfield County, which was a good area for the kind of antique silver Hoyt was interested in.
“I don’t know if this helps, if it means anything. It’s the only thing I have.”
I folded up the paper and stuck it in my wallet. “Yes,” I said, “I think it might.”
Manny Perez
“I am not here to cause you any trouble, Mrs. Hoyt.”
“I know why you’re here. It’s about Francis. I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Perez, but I don’t talk about my son. He forbids it.”
“I understand, Mrs. Hoyt, but I promise I will only take a few minutes of your valuable time.”
I cou
ld see that her Midwest manners would not let her dismiss me without allowing me to talk to her for a few minutes. I know this mindset quite well, since I have visited my wife’s family several times. It does not matter what they think of me, they still treat me with respect. I could see that this tiny, frail woman, white-haired woman wearing a tattered housedress and orthopedic shoes was cut from the same cloth.
“My husband isn’t home and I don’t use Hoyt any longer. I’m Mrs. Johnson and he doesn’t like me to entertain strangers when he’s not here.”
“I stand corrected. I assure you, Mrs. Johnson, that I am perfectly safe.” I took out my wallet and showed her my badge.
“Well, I suppose…but only for a few minutes and I really can’t speak about Francis. He’d get very upset if he even knew I’d let you in.”
She ushered me into the living room, which seemed to be furnished primarily from Goodwill or the Salvation Army. Most of the furniture was decades old, the flower print fabric on the chairs and sofa faded from age, but the house appeared to be impeccably well-kept.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
A few minutes passed before Mrs. Johnson reappeared with a tray holding two teacups decorated with pink and purple flowers, a matching white pitcher, and a small plate of sugar cookies. She set the tray down on a coffee table, took one of the cups and set it in front of me and poured hot water over a teabag. Before I was able to pick it up she took it from me.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I gave you the wrong cup. Please, take this one.” She handed me the other teacup and as she removed mine I could see there was a slight crack running down the side. “Do you take milk or sugar with your tea?”
“This is perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Cookie?” she asked, holding up the plate. “I didn’t bake them myself, but for store-bought they’re really quite delicious.”
“Thank you.” I took one.
“I’m afraid you’ve come a long way for nothing, Mr. Perez. I know you think Francis is a bad man, but he’s really not. That he got involved in what he did would be quite understandable if you knew how his father treated him. He was just acting out, but now that he’s paid for his actions he’s a changed man.”
“Most criminals have horrendous childhoods, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Oh, no, no, no. Francis had a very nice childhood. He had lots of friends. He did well in school. It’s just that he didn’t get along with his father very well.”
I admired Mrs. Johnson for protecting her child and only thinking the best of him. Perhaps she truly didn’t believe how bad a man Francis Hoyt really was. There is no one so blind as one who cannot see.
“You do understand why we are looking for him, Mrs. Johnson?”
She hesitated a moment. Would she admit to the faults in her son?
“No, I don’t know why, Mr. Perez. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He has spent time in the penitentiary.”
“As I said, that’s in the past. Besides, he wasn’t guilty of anything other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“He was robbing a house in the middle of the evening along with two other criminal associates. That is a very wrong place at a very wrong time.”
She put down her teacup, looked me straight in the eye. “I’m not going to sit here and argue with you, Mr. Perez. Francis has always been a good son. He’s taken care of me and his sister. If you’re asking me to help you find Francis, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Helping me find him would be for his own good. He’s partaking in an endeavor that can only ultimately bring serious harm to him and possibly others. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you? I know you do not wish to see him come to any harm, Mrs. Johnson.”
She put down her cup and hung her head. Her voice was nearly inaudible. “I don’t want to see him in prison again, either.”
I was up against a stone wall. No one is more protective than a mother of a child, even a monstrous child such as Francis Hoyt. But our strategy did not necessarily depend on obtaining her cooperation. All we needed was for her to inform Francis Hoyt that we were doggedly on his trail and that we would stop at nothing to find him and bring him to justice.
“When was the last time you heard from him, if I may ask?”
“Would you like another cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“You seem like a very nice gentleman, Mr. Perez, and that’s why I don’t want to waste anymore of your precious time.” She stood up. “I’m afraid I can’t give you what you want.”
“I fully understand your position, Mrs. Johnson. I, too, am a parent and if I were in your position I am not so sure I would not behave exactly as you are. But I appeal to you as a mother to help us find your son. I promise you that no harm will come to him.”
She shook her head. “Francis has always been able to take care of himself, so I don’t think he needs your protection or anyone else’s. I suppose we could sit here and chat about the weather or the upcoming election, but I’m sure you have better things to do. My husband will be home soon and I haven’t even started preparing dinner. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave now.”
And, so I did.
Francis Hoyt
“Yeah, Ma, I’m glad you called.”
“I didn’t want to bother you, Francis.”
“You’re not bothering me, Ma.”
“Because I know you’re a busy man.”
What the fuck. Yeah, Ma, I’m a very busy man. Way too busy for this shit. So, could you just get the fuck off the phone and leave me alone.
“Never too busy to talk to you. I’m sorry he bothered you. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s just that he worried me, Francis. You’re not in any trouble, are you?”
“No, I’m not in any trouble. I told you, that’s all behind me.”
Fucking bitch wouldn’t let go.
“I gotta go, Ma. I appreciate you letting me know about this and I’ll be sending you a little something very soon.”
“You know you don’t have to do that.”
Then why the hell don’t you send the damn money back?
“It’s my pleasure, Ma. It really is. So, take care of yourself, okay?”
“All right. And remember to call your sister every once in a while, okay?”
“Yeah, Ma. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Now I was getting pissed. These guys were sticking their damn noses where they didn’t belong. Stirring shit up with my mother, what the fuck did they think they were doing? No. Not anymore. I had to put a stop to this. Maybe even a little tit for tat. How’d that little spic like that?
Francis Hoyt
“Francis, I thought you were back up north.”
“I am, Artie.”
“We’re square. You got your money.”
“That’s not what I’m calling about.”
“Knowing you, it’s not to find out how I’m doing. But in case you’re interested, I got this bronchial thing. Doctor doesn’t—”
“You’re right, Artie. I couldn’t give a fuck about how you’re doing. I only care about how I’m doing.”
“Then what’s up?”
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I want you to deliver a message for me.”
“They got the FedEx for that.”
“Don’t be a fucking wise guy, Artie.”
“You think I owe you a favor? The way you talked to me the last time I saw you? Those threats you made. I mean, that was serious shit.”
“That was business. If you’d paid me when you were supposed to pay me we never would have had that conversation. You owe me.”
“How you figure that?”
Fucking asshole was enjoying this. He thought he had the upper hand for a change. But that wouldn’t hold for long.
“Not only for all
the business I brought you over the years, Artie, but let’s face it I know enough about your operation I could bring you down with one lousy phone call. You think I don’t know about the scheme you been running? The boys don’t like that shit. They find out about it you really will be floating in some body of water, but not before they make you feel it, if you know what I mean.”
The line went dead for a minute.
Good. I was getting through. Who’s on top now, asshole?
“I was only kidding, Francis. Of course, I’ll do a favor for you. Anything you want, pal. Anything.”
“That’s what I like to hear. That’s just what I like to hear.”
Charlie Floyd
We had our first real lead on Hoyt. Either he was staying at that motel or he had stayed there recently, since the date Melinda had copied off the receipt was just two days earlier.
After stirring the nest, Manny was back the next day. He checked his notes and marked off three of the most likely targets in Litchfield County, all of them within five miles of the motel where Hoyt either was or had been staying. We could try to hatch some kind of trap to catch Hoyt with the goods in his hands. We knew how he operated and instead of trying to nail him by putting the house or houses under surveillance, we’d try to talk the owners into letting us inside the house, where we could lie in wait and nab him. Manny in one house, me in another. If we guessed wrong, nothing lost. It was a bold plan, a plan where lots of things could go wrong, but it was the only plan we had.
But with the way Hoyt moved around, I didn’t want to limit it to that particular motel and so I went on Google and made a list of at least fifteen other motels or bed and breakfast places in the area.
Second Story Man Page 22