Free New Hope for the Dead by Charles Willeford

well-to-do widow after Hoke’s mother had died, and the two of them lived very well in a large house on the inland waterway.
    Frank Moseley was seventy now, and he still went to the store every day. He had never given Hoke a share of the profits, nor did Hoke expect to get anything when he died. Hoke suspected that the bulk of the estate would go to thewidow and to Hoke’s two daughters, Sue Ellen and Aileen. The old man doted on his granddaughters, and Patsy was wise enough to drive down from Vero Beach often enough to maintain the old man’s interest, yet not often enough to become a nuisance. Hoke had not seen his girls since Patsy divorced him and moved to Vero Beach. Patsy thought it would be better that way. The most recent photographs he had of the girls were from four years ago. He had never paid much attention to the children when they had lived together, Patsy said, and she didn’t want their new lives upset by occasional, so-called duty visits.
    Patsy was unfair in this regard, Hoke felt, but there was enough truth in what she said to discourage him from pursuing the matter legally.
    Thanks to Hoke’s M.P. background, limited though it was, he had no trouble getting into the Riviera Beach Police Department, and he and Patsy were happy enough during the three years he spent on the force as a patrolman. As a hometown boy—and a “Conch”—Hoke got along well with people, and Riviera Beach, before the 1970s boom and the unforeseen development of condominiums on Singer Island, was relatively crime-free. Patsy kept busy with the children all day, and Hoke drove a patrol car, alternating between day and night shifts. During his off-duty time, he either fished or went to the beach at Singer Island, the widest and nicest beach on Florida’s east coast.
    One night Hoke stopped a speeding Caddy. The driver dismounted with a gun in his hand when Hoke approached the car, and Hoke shot the man without even thinking about it. There were three kilos of cocaine in the trunk of the Caddy. The driver had been killed instantly; Hoke was cleared almost immediately and received a commendation from the chief. The rest of his police work at Riviera Beach was routine.
    A few months later, after three years on the Riviera Beach force, Hoke applied for and was accepted by the Miami Police Department. It had been pleasant living inRiviera Beach, and Patsy had some family there, too, but with the girls growing up, Hoke needed the larger salary he could earn as a Miami policeman.
    It was difficult at first. Hoke made more money, but it cost more to live in Miami. To earn extra money, Hoke volunteered for overtime, and he always worked the football games on Saturdays and Sundays in the Orange Bowl during his off-duty time. He neglected Patsy and the girls, but after she started to nag him and make his life unpleasant at home, he spent even fewer hours there. He met Bambi, began an intense affair, and studied for the sergeant’s exam in the downtown public library. The girls were noisy at home, and he couldn’t concentrate. Then Patsy joined a neighborhood “consciousness-raising” group, found out about Bambi, and their marriage was over.
    Without any family obligations, except for endorsing and mailing every other check to Patsy, Hoke had prospered in the department. He had enjoyed his earlier work in Traffic and liked being a detective even better, especially after he was promoted to sergeant. But the life had taken a toll on his face.
    Without his false teeth, Hoke looked much older than forty-two, and this morning, when he looked into the mirror, still thinking about Loretta Hickey, he wondered if she would ever be interested in him as a lover. She could hardly be interested, he thought, if she saw him without his teeth. His eyes were his best feature. They were chocolate brown, a brown so richly dark it was difficult to see his pupils. During his years in the Miami Police Department, this genetic gift had been useful to him on