Read Online The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames - Free Book Online Page B

I’m searching for something to say.
    â€œThat smoke is awful. He wouldn’t let me open a window in here. I don’t see why a man with all his health problems wanted to make it worse. But I’ve seen that before.”
    Nudie magazines, veteran’s affairs publications, and paperbacks are scattered around the bed, and some have spilled onto the floor in the struggle. His taste in books runs to detective novels with lurid covers, depicting buxom women and guns. Then it strikes me, once again, that Jack couldn’t have seen any of these books and magazines.
    â€œDid people read to him?”
    â€œYes, he liked to be read to.”
    â€œAnd these?” I point to a copy of Hustler .
    â€œHis friends got great pleasure out of describing the women to him.” Her voice borders on the disapproving, but she keeps her expression neutral. Dottie is a devout churchgoer, and she’s taken to heart the adage not to cast stones.
    The bedside stand is crowded with plastic medicine bottles. I crouch down so I can read the labels without touching them.
    â€œI don’t know why he didn’t cry out. I’m a light sleeper. I would have heard him.”
    â€œDarvocet. Did he take that all the time?”
    â€œOnly when he was in pain. But I think he needed a lot of it.”
    â€œIf he took one of those, he might have been too sound asleep to know anybody was in the room. And by the time he woke up enough, it was too late to cry out.” I’m wondering how the killer could see in the dark. The light is on, and Dottie said she didn’t touch anything. But it seems strange that someone would risk turning on the light. “Did Jack sleep with a light on?”
    â€œAlways. He told me it was so Bob wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark. And I kept it up for the same reason.” Dottie gazes at Jack with deep pity. “I don’t know how somebody could have been mean enough to do this. What harm could he do anyone?” Her voice breaks and she swipes at her eyes. “He was in a good mood when I put him to bed. We joked. I told him some funny stories about my grandson and he was laughing. Seems like I would have heard something with all this mayhem.”
    I lay a hand on her arm. “This is not your fault, Dottie. It may have been good that you didn’t hear anything, because whoever murdered Jack might have killed you, too.”
    â€œWell, I hadn’t thought of that.”
    I go into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, and while it drips through, I call down to the police station and rouse James Harley Krueger. He tells me he’ll call Rodell and the coroner’s office in Bobtail and then he’ll come right over.
    â€œNo need for the siren,” I say, wanting to spare the neighbors. James Harley uses the siren liberally.
    When I get off the phone, Dottie has put on a sweater, smoothed her hair into its usual bun, and applied some lipstick, although her face is still deadly pale. I tell her I’ve called the police, but that I’ll wait a couple of hours to call Curtis. “Nothing he can do right now anyway,” I say.
    â€œI’m sure he’ll appreciate not being bothered,” she says. From the sarcasm in her voice, I can tell she shares my opinion of Curtis.
    Marybeth should be told what happened, too. But this time I’d better go tell her in person.
    I wander into the living room and see that the back door is open an inch. “That’s how he got in,” I say.
    Dottie stares at the door, frowning. “I know I closed that door.”
    â€œBut was it locked?”
    â€œNo, not locked. Jack said he hadn’t bothered to lock the doors since his daddy died. I guess for a few days his friend Walter was camping in the backyard and that door was left unlocked in case he wanted to come inside for anything in the night, and Jack didn’t get back in the habit of locking up. But I know I closed