Free The Wrong Man by Jason Dean Page A

down at her and said, ‘Hey, beautiful,’ out of one side of his mouth. ‘Stranger bothering
     you?’
    He had a small towel in his hand and he wiped sweat from his muscular arms. His dirty-blond hair was the kind loved by some
     women and the hazel eyes looked intelligent. Insightful, even. He purposely didn’tlook at Bishop.
    ‘Oh, Lucas,’ she said, still smiling, her tone lowering on the second word. Bishop looked past Lucas and watched the other
     three players strolling towards the bench. The two larger men were laughing at something the smallest was saying as he gesticulated
     wildly with his hands.
    Bishop turned to the woman and said, ‘I preferredhis late sixties stuff, myself.’
    She shook her head and smiled. ‘The fifties and Sun Records is where it’s at.’ Another sip. ‘But “In The Ghetto” was pretty
     great, I admit.’
    Lucas finally looked at Bishop and said, ‘Maybe you’d like to play.’
    ‘You wouldn’t like me any more than you do now.’ Bishop shrugged. ‘Less, probably.’ Then he said,‘Don’t forget “Suspicious
     Minds”.’
    He usually avoided alpha-male bullshit, but couldn’t help himself on this occasion. Something about the guy grated and it
     had been a long time since he could say something without having to deal with the threat of being stabbed.
    The woman started humming the familiar tune and Bishop listened for fiveseconds, enjoying the sound. When Lucas sat down
     between them he rose and walked towards the three men. The conversation stopped as soon as he was within five yards. Like
     Lucas, all woresleeveless sweatshirts or vests, shorts, and sneakers that probably cost more than Bishop’s entire get-up, leather jacket
     included. Bishop put them all in the same age bracket as thewoman.
    ‘Help you?’ asked the smallest guy.
    ‘Only if your name’s Aleron.’
    The speaker turned to the biggest man. ‘Know him?’
    The man was about six-two and Bishop guessed about twenty pounds heavier than him. His hair had been shaved close to the skull
     and from a distance he looked pretty intimidating. But he had friendly eyesand he wore a genuine half-smile. He tilted his
     head slightly, looking Bishop over. ‘That’s the question. Do I?’
    Bishop nodded at him and said, ‘Owen.’
    The man raised his eyebrows and took a few steps away from his friends. Bishop followed. ‘That’s the magic word,’ Aleron Falstaff
     said. ‘You seen my brother recently?’
    ‘Threeor four days ago. He gave me your name as someone to see. Told me you played here on Sundays.’ He put his sunglasses
     back on and said, ‘My name’s Bishop.’
    Aleron showed a flicker of recognition and frowned as he looked over at his friends gathered around the woman on the bench.
     ‘I heard the last time anyone broke out of Greenacres was twelve years ago. How’dyou end that run?’
    ‘They carried me out in a box.’ Aleron smiled. ‘Was he on the level or am I wasting my time?’
    Aleron flashed some teeth. ‘Wasting time’s what Sunday mornings are for. Relax. I heard what you did for him. Give me a second
     and we’ll walk back to my place. It’s not far.’
    Aleron left Bishop standing in the bright sunand walked over to talk briefly with his three co-players. They each knocked
     fists with him and he leaned down in front of the girl. She placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder as she listened to
     whatever he was saying.
    Then she stopped smiling and kept her eyes on Bishop as he followed Aleron towards the park exit.

EIGHTEEN
    ‘One more for luck,’ Aleron said.
    Bishop looked straight at a reflex camera that was attached to a tripod in Aleron’s basement. He kept his expression neutral.
     Not happy, not angry, just eyes open, mouth closed.
    After the shutter clicked, Aleron opened the side of the camera and extracted a small memory card.He went over and reached
     under the desk to turn something on before inserting the card into his Power Mac. Laid-back music