Free Justice for Hire by Rayven T. Hill

shot.”
    “Shot?”
    Hank nodded. “He has been killed.”
    Mrs. Mitchell sat quiet and still, in shock as she tried to grasp the news. Then, in a hoarse voice, “Murdered?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “But who? Why? What happened?” Her brow wrinkled. “Are you sure it was Bobby?”
    Hank nodded slowly. “It’s him, ma’am. We’ll need you to make a formal identification later, but there’s no doubt, it’s him.” He watched Mrs. Mitchell, unsure of what else to say.
    Annie stood, stepped around the coffee table, and sat on the edge of the loveseat, facing Mrs. Mitchell. She grabbed a few tissues from a box on a nearby stand and pressed them into Mrs. Mitchell’s hand. Placing her arm around her shoulder, she attempted to comfort the distraught woman.
    Mrs. Mitchell dabbed at her eyes with the tissue as her body quaked, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. “Bobby,” she whispered. “My darling Bobby.”
    Hank sat fidgeting on the couch and watched as Annie tried to comfort the woman. He dabbed at a couple of tears that had broken free, and then gained control, and was thankful he’d asked Annie to come along. He dug out his notepad and pen, flipped through to a blank sheet, and made a notation at the top of the page.
    In a few minutes, Mrs. Mitchell blew her nose, turned to Annie and smiled weakly. “I’ll be ok.” She cleared her throat, attempting to compose herself, and asked, “How did it happen?”
    Annie held the woman’s hand and looked into her reddening eyes, her makeup smeared. Annie’s heart broke for this grieving woman who’d obviously loved her nephew as her own son. She spoke softly, “We don’t know the reason yet, or the identity of the shooter. The police are working on it, and they’ll soon find out more.”
    Mrs. Mitchell nodded. “Did he suffer?” she asked.
    Annie looked at Hank. “It’s not likely, ma’am,” he said.
    “And you don’t know why?”
    “Not yet,” Hank replied. “We’re hoping you can help with that.” He cleared his throat again. “Do you know if Bobby had any enemies, or anyone who might wish him harm?”
    “Mrs. Mitchell shook her head slowly, the distress she felt evident in her eyes. “No. I don’t believe so. Bobby was such a good boy. Well liked by everyone who knew him.” She blotted away another tear that had escaped.
    “What did he do in his spare time? Did he have any friends you may not know?”
    “He came to church with me every Sunday, and then he would go again in the evening. He was there for Bible study on Wednesday as well. He never missed it.”
    “What’s the name of the church?”
    “Richmond Baptist.”
    “I know the place.” Hank jotted in his notepad, and then asked, “Anything else?”
    “He helped out at Samaritan Street Mission once a week, every Tuesday, sorting food and serving meals.” She thought a moment before saying, “Other than that, Bobby worked hard and was home every evening. He took care of himself. He didn’t drink, or smoke, and he certainly didn’t do any drugs. He was trying to get his life back on track after . . .” Her voice trailed off, her lower lip quivered and she drew a deep breath.
    Hank nodded. “Yes, we realize Bobby had spent some time in prison.”
    “He was innocent, you know.” Mrs. Mitchell sighed and dropped her head. “My darling Bobby lost five years of his life in a terrible prison, for something he didn’t do. And now . . .” She sighed again.
    Hank knew, technically, Bobby wasn’t innocent, but he was aware of the circumstances of the case, and believed the judge had been harsher than necessary. He was only going by memory, and he made a mental note to look into the case a little further.
    Annie moved her arm from around the woman and sat back against the end of the loveseat, still facing her. “Has Bobby lived here since he was released?” she asked.
    “Yes, he came to live with me right after his parents, my brother, was killed, and he has been here