Free The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames Page B

investigate this crime, he’ll make short work of it.
    Schoppe turns to the patrol duo. “If Samuel is on this, we might as well go home. He’ll have it cleared it up in no time.”
    â€œOh, no. Not me. You’re right. I retired from law enforcement a long time ago. This is up to you fellows.”
    Schoppe points to the highway patrolmen. “We’re not really assigned to this case. Me and these THP officers have been out since midnight on a big wreck out near Dimebox. We got diverted over here on our way back home.” He jerks a thumb in James Harley’s direction. “This deputy here says his chief should arrive before too long.”
    James Harley has his hands on his hips and his legs spread wide, like he’s trying to look bigger than he is. His hat is tipped back on his head. “Yeah, Chief Skinner should be coming along any minute now.”
    The highway patrol contingent looks frazzled. Schoppe throws a worried look my way, and I can see that he’s read James Harley Krueger’s shortcomings. “I was just telling Deputy Krueger that we’ve got a big problem. We’ll be glad to go in there and take evidence, get photos and what not, but it’ll be a while before we can sort out our findings. These budget cuts are killing us. So it might be better if your police officers take the lead.”
    Getting wind of where this is headed, James Harley says. “Well, I’m going to have to leave you boys to get on with it. I’ve got some things to see about. Rodell will sort it out with you.”
    Schoppe straightens even taller and gives James Harley the once-over. He’s not a lawman who would think of leaving a crime scene until he was sure it was properly secured. I can see he’s about to ask James Harley what’s so all-fired important that he has to drop a murder investigation for, when I butt in.
    â€œI’ll tell you what, James Harley. I’ll stay here until somebody from the department gets here. I promise I won’t interfere with your job.” I have no intention of waiting around for Rodell or any of his men to show up, but I’m afraid if Schoppe says anything to James Harley, he’ll stick around and get in the way.
    â€œI guess that would be all right,” he says.
    The four of us watch him scurry to his car. Just then a bolt of lightning scatters across the sky and we pause, startled, and wait for the thunder. It takes several seconds, which means the storm is still some distance away. The wind whips up in a flurry and the smell of rain is strong, although it’s no more than a promise, and could come to nothing.
    â€œIf that doesn’t beat everything,” Schoppe says as James Harley drives away. “Just leaving us to it.”
    â€œI don’t want to say too much, but you’re not losing a whole lot with him gone,” I say.
    â€œNo surprise there.” Schoppe turns to the highway patrol pair. “Let’s get our gear and collect the evidence so we can head on home.”
    Investigation of capital crimes in small towns in Texas is convoluted. Not that we have all that many murders, but when we do, state authorities have jurisdiction. That can be highway patrol, but more likely Texas Rangers, working with the county sheriff’s office.
    The medical examiner in the nearest big city also gets involved with the examination of the victim. And sometimes even the FBI gets called on certain cases. But it’s not unusual for a good bit of time to pass before much investigation gets done. That is unless it’s a serial crime, a mass murder, or some kind of political thing.
    I help Schoppe carry in the forensic gear. “How’d you happen by here anyway?” he says.
    I tell him how my morning unfolded. “I came back because I had a feeling James Harley wasn’t going to take care of business.”
    â€œWhere’s the chief?”
    â€œLikely on a