The Last Death of Jack Harbin Read Online Free

since.
    To give them a few minutes to visit, I walk back to Bob’s workshop. The house is built on a sizeable piece of land shaded with pecan and post-oak trees, and the workshop is in a shed tucked against the back fence.
    The sliding door to the shed is open, and I glance inside. When Bob decided to take care of Jack, he quit his job with a construction company in Bobtail and started doing small appliance repairs. Everybody brought their things to him to repair, and there are lots of things lined up on shelves with tags on them. An ancient radio in a handsome wood cabinet has been pulled apart on the workbench. It would probably be cheaper to buy a new one, but you’d never find one with that art deco style. I slide the door shut to keep out the weather and the varmints, but I crack it open a few inches. People might want to slip in and get their goods without bothering Jack and Curtis.
    When Elva is gone, I say to Jack, “What would you think about going over to the café to get some lunch?”
    â€œThat would be really good. You think you can push me in my wheelchair?”
    â€œI don’t see why not.”
    In the kitchen, Curtis is on the phone. He shoots us a furtive look as we roll past. It occurs to me that Jack and I ought to have a chat with Earnest Landau, the funeral director, while we’re in town, in case Curtis is trying to pull something.

Although it’s barely eleven o’clock, Jack and I both order the Mexican special, a plate of enchiladas and tamales made by Johnny Ochoa’s wife, Maria. When the food arrives, Lurleen has stripped the cornhusk off the tamales so Jack doesn’t have to grope around and do it himself.
    Once we’re eating, I ask Jack how he’s going to get himself taken care of. “Looks like your brother isn’t going to be much help.”
    â€œThat self-righteous son of a bitch. He wants me to sell Daddy’s place and go into a veteran’s home. That’s so he can get half the money from the house.”
    â€œHe lives somewhere in East Texas, doesn’t he?”
    â€œUsed to, but now he’s in Waco with a bunch of other wackos. Gun nuts. They call themselves survivalists. I’d like to see them survive in a real fight.”
    Lurleen checks on us. “Jack, you haven’t eaten very much. Want me to bring you something else?” Her voice is soft. She touches his arm. She has recently had her hair cut short in little spikes all over her head like a little porcupine. It looks cute on her.
    Jack smiles for the first time, tilting his head toward the direction of her voice. Damn, the boy would do well to use that smile a little more freely. “Lurleen, you’re always trying to fatten me up. But you know, I don’t have much appetite today.”
    â€œShame to waste Maria’s Mexican food.” Lurleen is one of the good ones. She has continuing trouble with a belligerent ex-husband, but she always has a sweet way about her.
    â€œOkay, here goes. Big bite. See?” Jack stuffs an over-sized chunk of tamale into his mouth.
    â€œOh, you’re awful!” Lurleen giggles. “You’re going to choke, and it will serve you right.”
    Jack’s mouth is too full to reply, but his lips crook into a smile while he chews.
    When the meal is cleared away, I circle back to the subject of Jack’s prospects.
    â€œDaddy always banked my disability check and we lived on what Daddy made from his business.”
    â€œSo you’ve got money put away.”
    â€œYeah, it’s a good bit. But Curtis thinks that full time help would run through the money in no time. That’s why he’s talking about a veteran’s home.”
    Seems to me like it’s none of Curtis’s business how Jack spends his money. When it’s gone, there will be plenty of time to go to a veteran’s home. Still, if he went now, at least he’d have company at a vet