The Last Death of Jack Harbin Read Free Page A

Craddock,” Jack says. I pull up a metal lawn chair with frayed plastic webbing that has faded to a pale gray.
    â€œYou boys veterans?” I ask.
    They nod. One of them flicks a cigarette butt into the backyard.
    â€œMy band of brothers,” Jack says, sarcastically.
    â€œRight on.” The speaker is a squat man with a shaved head and covered with tattoos. His eyes are so red you can’t tell what color they are.
    â€œThat’s Vic,” Jack says. “The rest of you guys introduce yourselves like civilized people.
    Johnny B., the one who showed up with Dunn, has a big, knotted scar running along his jaw line. Mike is a slightly built, handsome man with a dark thatch of hair and a shy smile.
    â€œWe call Mike ‘Pretty Boy,’” Jack says. The way Jack is settled back in his chair tells me he’s able to relax with these men.
    Dunn comes out with my coffee. “I had to brew a new batch.”
    Suddenly another man steps out the back door onto the patio. It takes me a second to recognize him. It’s Jack’s younger brother.
    â€œWell Curtis, I’ll be damned.”
    â€œHello, Chief Craddock.” He comes over and says for me not to get up, but I do anyway. The hand he offers me to shake is soft and well-manicured. He tells me he drove in late last night. Ramrod straight, he’s clean-shaven, his hair cut short and trim, and dressed in slacks and a golf shirt.
    I never much cared for Curtis. He was a furtive kid. As soon as he was old enough, he grew a scruffy beard and started going around dressed in old army fatigues. He spent most of his time in the woods, hunting everything from squirrels to snakes. Marybeth used to worry about him because he’d go out camping for several days at a time. Frankly, I was surprised that it was Jack, not Curtis, who signed up for the army. Loretta told me that Curtis hooked up with some kind of survivalist group that lives out in the woods up in East Texas. You wouldn’t know it from his soft hands.
    The vets go quiet and their stares are cold. “How long are you in town for?” I ask. I wonder if Curtis plans to stay a while and take care of his brother.
    â€œI have to get back to work as soon as the funeral is over. Trying to get His Majesty squared away here in the next couple of days.” He nods toward Jack.
    Although the words seem nothing more than a mild jibe between siblings, Jack’s face twists with anger. “Fuck you, Curtis.”
    Curtis’s face gets red. He forces a laugh, but no one joins in.
    â€œYou boys have the funeral arrangements taken care of?” I ask.
    â€œWe would if Curtis wasn’t such a cheapskate,” Jack’s voice is belligerent.
    Curtis shoots a hard look at Jack. “I’m being realistic about money, Jack. The funeral you’ve got set up is going to cost a lot. You think you’re sitting pretty, but when you have to pay somebody to do everything Daddy did for you, you’re going to get a hard dose of the real world.” He speaks slowly, as if Jack is not only wounded, but brain-damaged as well.
    â€œWhat do you know about the real world?”
    I break in to ease things. “Curtis, I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age. You don’t get down here too much.”
    â€œNo, my job and my family keep me pretty busy.”
    â€œHow many kids you got?”
    â€œFour. Two boys, two girls.”
    â€œThat would keep you busy all right. What do you do for a living?”
    â€œI manage an outfit that sells at gun shows.”
    Jack snorts. “Didn’t have the guts to go off to war himself, so he’s arming for his own private little war.”
    Jack’s friends look at each other and rise as one. “We need to get out of here,” Dunn says to me. “Our buddy Eric’s at the shop by himself and he’s going to be some pissed off if we don’t show up pretty soon.”
    Each man shakes