Free The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames

it.”
    I turn on the back patio light and step outside. Leaves are skittering across the yard, and I feel a few scattered drops of rain. If there are footprints, the rain will soon obliterate them. And besides, with all the activity here in the last few days, there must be hundreds of footprints.
    Dottie and I sit down in the living room to wait for James Harley. I feel both restless and useless, and the change in weather is making my knee throb. In the back of my mind, I’m trying to make some sense out of Jack’s death. “Do you know if Jack has had a bad run-in with anybody recently?”
    Dottie considers. “I get here at ten o’clock every night, and the other night when I arrived he and his friend Walter were hollering at each other. But by the time he left, they were laughing.”
    â€œYou know what they were fighting about?”
    She sighs, thinks, and then shakes her head. “Something silly. Probably football. That’s what usually gets everybody riled up. I remember thinking at the time it was just an excuse to butt up against each other, to keep from getting bored.”
    â€œAnything else unusual? Anything that struck you as odd?”
    â€œNo more than usual. I always thought Jack was odd. He could have done more for himself, but he seemed more than happy to be taken care of.”
    â€œHe had bad injuries.”
    â€œI’ve seen worse in my years as a nurse. People who could barely move managed to make a life for themselves. People who wanted to be independent.”
    â€œI imagine his was a hard combination. Even if he could get around on crutches, he couldn’t see where he was going.”
    â€œI’m just saying there are those who wouldn’t have taken advantage the way he did.”
    Even though we are expecting James Harley, his sharp rap on the front door startles us. The first thing I see when I open the door is the barrel of a gun.
    â€œJames Harley, put the gun away,” I snap.
    James Harley is plastered up against the front of the house, to the right of the door. He peeks his head around the side. “Everything okay here?”
    â€œWe’re not fixing to shoot you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    â€œOh, for pity’s sake,” Dottie says under her breath to me. “That’s why I called you.”
    James Harley edges into the living room, sticking his gun back in his holster. He’s Rodell Skinner’s favorite lieutenant, being not too bright and inclined to go along with Rodell in most things. He yawns and scratches his considerable belly that seems to get bigger every time I see him. “Chief Craddock, I’ll take it from here. I called the ambulance and they should be along after a while. They’ll take the body to Bobtail. Then it’s T. J.’s problem.”
    T. J. Sutter is the justice of the peace charged with the duties of the medical examiner. In the instance of a murder, the JP usually calls in an ME from Houston or San Antonio to do the autopsy. But it isn’t T. J.’s job to investigate the crime. “Why would it be T. J.’s problem?”
    â€œI just mean he’ll have information for us.” James Harley speaks in a lofty tone to dismiss my impertinent questions. “Jack back there?” He points toward the hallway. I tell him the body is in the bedroom on the right. James Harley saunters into the bedroom, and I don’t hear any movement. When he comes out his expression hasn’t changed, as if observing a grisly murder is all in a day’s work.
    â€œYou going to call in somebody to get forensic evidence?” I ask.
    James Harley glares at me. As former chief of police, I know how all this works. And I also know he never would have thought to get evidence if I hadn’t mentioned it. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he says. “We’re on it.”
    â€œWhere is Rodell?” I ask. “Is he on his