Death of the Yellowhammer

Neighbors were already gathering on the sidewalk as the two homicide detectives – Danny Spiro and Maisie Petra – arrived at the split-level ranch-style house on Summerville Avenue.

The pair had only worked together a short time, and Petra, a sinewy former college decathlete, provided quite the contrast to Spiro with his five o’clock shadow and beer gut.

Officer Ben Clampett had been called to do a wellness check on the occupant, Charlie Chandler, after neighbors reported that they hadn’t seen him in the past three days and he didn’t answer his cellphone or door.

Clampett found an unlocked window near the back of the house and crawled through, where he spotted Chandler slumped over in his chair.

He was dead, and had apparently been dead for several hours.

“What do we have here, Ben?” asked Spiro, as he and Petra approached. “Hey, Danny. And Officer Petra, is it? Welcome to the precinct. Yeah, it might be nothing, but I’m not sure Mr. Chandler’s death is just a case of an old man dying of old age. Come inside.”

The trio approached the body as it lay in the hallway. There was no sign of blood or bruises, or anything to indicate a struggle, for that matter. But clutched in Chandler’s right hand was a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

There was a crude drawing of what appeared to be a blueprint of some sort and below that the words, “Havoc Club at large. Activate Violet Femme.”

“I saw that,” Clampett said, “and it just seemed, I dunno … ominous.”

Spiro looked at the corpse and then glanced at Petra, who seemed visibly shaken.

“You OK, partner?”

“Yeah … just never easy to find someone like this.”

Spiro was familiar with Chandler, and assumed since Petra had just transferred in from out of state, she probably wasn’t.

“Charlie was no stranger to the precinct,” he explained. “In fact, he was pretty much a regular. He was quite a character. He was always dressed in yellow and black and claimed to be a crimefighter named Yellowhammer – although he made us promise not to reveal his identity to anyone. Otherwise, the Havoc Club might find him.”

“That’s why I called you guys,” Clampett said. “I know he had an active imagination and all that, but the fact that he had that note makes me wonder if something might have happened to him.”

Petra put on rubber gloves and carefully examined the note.

“So, why did he say he was – what did you call it – the Yellowhammer?”

“Yellowhammer, yeah,” Spiro said. “He started coming to us years ago, saying he had intel about criminal activity and could help us stop it. And the weird thing is, sometimes he did. I mean, he got a lot of information off the police scanner and I guess did some amateur detecting on his own, but he had some really good tips a lot of the time. Not sure how he knew as much as he did. We even looked into him as a suspect from time to time, but he was always clean. Anyway, he said he was Yellowhammer, who was kinda like a dispatcher for people he called ‘better superheroes.’ He liked to say he saved the big stuff for the big guns, but wanted to help us out, too.”

“What do we know about Havoc Club and Violet Femme?”

Spiro chuckled.

“Havoc Club? We don’t know anything about ‘em because they don’t exist,” he said. “They might as well be the League of Shadows or the Sinister Six. And Violet Femme? Maybe he was just a fan of folk punk and didn’t know how to spell Violent Femmes. Look, I don’t mean to joke at a time like this. Charlie was a good guy and whatever happened is worth looking into, for sure. But I don’t think we need to follow comic book leads. Let’s just examine the body and go from there.”

“Still,” Petra asked. “Is it OK if I go over this note a little closer? You know, check for fingerprints, try and see if this blueprint means anything, stuff like that?”

“Knock yourself out, partner,” Spiro said. “Tell you what, we’ll get this place dusted and I’ll wait on the medical examiner, so you can knock off for the night. I know it’s been a tough day. Let’s regroup and get back at it first thing in the morning. I’ll ride back with Ben … you can take the car.”

“Nah,” she said. “I need to walk and clear my head. Besides, it’s just a few blocks from the subway. See you tomorrow, Danny. And thanks.”

Petra swiftly walked away from the crime scene and turned right at the end of the street. Finding Yellowhammer dead was shocking, to say the least, but she had no choice but to keep her grief in check.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small, black, cylindrical device, and punched the red button in the center.

“Yellowhammer is gone, I just confirmed it,” she said. “He was murdered, and it’s got Havoc Club’s fingerprints all over it. He did leave us a blueprint, though. Sending a picture of it now … get it to Clue Monger and have him figure out if this is their base. If it is, I need to suit up and get there as soon as possible. “Violet Femme signing off … I’ll report back when I know more.”