Free Derailed by Jackson Neta, Dave Jackson Page A

bein’ squeezed, then it’s not a good idea. But, Harry, maybe he just needs a second chance. He seems to have a decent attitude, better than how you’ve painted him in the past.”
    I cleared my throat in a conspicuous way. “More like third or fourth chance.” But I felt guilty the moment I’d said it. After all, Godhad given me a second chance in so many ways—a second chance at love, a second chance to be a father to my grandson. Still. “I’d like to, Estelle. I really would, but has he really changed? Or just become a better con artist?”
    â€œWell, you’re the cop, Harry. Thought you could read cons from a block away.”
    I hunched my shoulders as the gusty wind picked up. “Yeah, but there’s a reason doctors don’t operate on family members. When people are too close, your vision gets blurry. Whadda they call that—myopia?”
    We’d reached the end of the block. The cross street was one way going west. Kind of a pain navigating one-ways to get into your own block—especially one with a dead end. As we crossed Beecham and headed back up our side of the street, Estelle pulled me back into our conversation.
    â€œWhat would we have to do so we could be more objective, so we aren’t caught in the middle?”
    â€œFinancially?”
    â€œ
Mm-hm
. That seems to be where the rub is.”
    I thought for a moment. “I s’pose we could set up clear expectations for Rodney, and to protect us financially, guess I could go back to work. Maybe I could get my old doorman job back at Richmond Towers.”
    â€œHarry! You were bored silly at that job. Why not the Chicago Police Department?”
    I shrugged. “Maybe. Might have to take a cut in pay, maybe even in rank, but mostly it’d depend on whether they’re hiring right now. The whole city’s pretty much under a budget freeze, ya know.”
    She sighed. “Well, let’s pray, Harry. Let’s pray about it.”
    â€œRight now? Out here in this?” I waved my hand at the bare trees creaking in the icy wind.
    She giggled. “No. I’m freezin’ to death. I mean tonight, before we go to sleep.”
    That was more like it. We stepped up our pace and were almost home, when Estelle gripped my arm and jerked me to a near stop.
    â€œDon’t look now, Harry, but that’s the second time it’s happened.”
    â€œHappened? What happened? What’re you talkin’ about?”
    â€œThe blinds. Everyone on this street has their blinds closed or their drapes pulled. But somebody in that house right there—our neighbor—was peekin’ out watchin’ us until I noticed ’em. Then they jerked the drapes closed.”
    â€œEstelle,” I moaned, “so what? Someone watched us walking by and felt embarrassed that you noticed ’em and closed their drapes. What’s the big deal?”
    â€œYeah, but that’s the second time. It happened when we passed that house right over there.” She pointed at the house directly across from ours. “It’s creepy.”
    â€œWhat if their drapes were open and they just happened to watch us pass? Would that bother you?”
    â€œOf course not. It’s just that . . . they obviously didn’t want me to see them watching.”
    â€œThey’re probably just curious—wondering about the new neighbors.”
    â€œMaybe . . .” We started walking again and turned onto the walk up to our house. “Then I know what I’ll do. I’m gonna go around and meet everybody. Bible says if you want to have friends, you gotta show yourself friendly. So I’m gonna . . . I’m gonna bake cinnamon rolls for everyone on this block.”
    â€œEstelle, we’re not even settled in yet.”
    â€œWell,” she said, hustling up the stairs to our unit, “maybe not tomorrow, but I’m still