The Last Death of Jack Harbin Read Online Free Page A

facility.
    â€œThere’s one in Temple. Not that far away. Your vet buddies could visit.”
    Jack kneads his hands, his thin shoulders hunched. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
    â€œWhat do your friends say?”
    He snorts. “Those boys are as hare-brained as I am. They all say they’ll take care of me, not to worry. But all of them have families, except for Vic.”
    That takes me by surprise. I had pictured them as loose cannons, as unattached as Jack. “You mean wives and kids?”
    â€œOh yeah. None of the wives are all that fond of me.” He grimaces. “Seems like I can’t be trusted to behave like a gentleman around the kids.”
    â€œWhy am I not surprised?”
    That drags a grin out of him.
    It’s noon and people are drifting into the café. Gabe LoPresto, a football team booster, swaggers over to our table with a couple of his cronies. They pull up chairs and crowd around, LoPresto straddling his chair backwards. He wears black snakeskin boots, a string tie, and a suede hat, but he still looks like a businessman who works in an office, which he is. LoPresto is an arrogant man, and can be annoying, but he provides fresh uniforms for the team every couple of years, which buys him a fair amount of good will.
    There’s nothing new that can be said about last Friday’s football game, but people won’t be done rehashing the subject until next Friday’s game replaces it. LoPresto kicks off the discussion, declaring in an aggrieved tone that Coach Eldridge was stupid to bench the quarterback for a minor infraction of his rules. “The man’s got no sense. There are other ways he could have punished that boy. Instead, he punished the whole damn town.”
    â€œThat wasn’t the only mistake he made. It was one after another the whole game,” Harley Lundsford says. He shakes his head in disgust. “I swear! Letting the clock run down too long to get in another play . . .”
    LoPresto says, “Jack, I heard you got into it with Eldridge after the game.”
    That’s the first I’ve heard of it, but LoPresto makes it his business to know pretty much everything people are up to in the football community.
    Jack shrugs. “We had a few words.”
    â€œI’m glad you spoke out to him. He couldn’t have done worse if he threw the game deliberately. Did he ever tell you what his thinking was?”
    Jack frowns. “Coach isn’t much for explaining himself, but he said he wished he had it to do over, that he made a mistake.”
    LoPresto perks up. “When was this?”
    â€œHe came over Sunday night to smooth things out between us. He brought a nice peace offering—a bottle of Cuervo. We did the bottle some damage.”
    All the men laugh.
    â€œWell, that says something, I guess,” LoPresto says.
    â€œDoesn’t change my opinion that he should have handled it different,” Jack says.
    â€œJack, you know your opinion counts for a lot. You’re still the finest high school quarterback I ever saw play the game.”
    We spend some time arguing over the relative merits of the teams from the years since Jack played. LoPresto finally unwinds himself from his chair, brushing off his hat before settling it back on his head. “I’d better be getting back to work. But Jack, I want you to be thinking on this business with Eldridge. Maybe we’d be better off with a different coach.”
    On the walk back to Jack’s place, we stop off at the funeral home. Earnest Landau is busy, but his assistant, Belle, says everything is going the way Jack wants it.
    â€œDid Curtis call over here?” Jack says.
    â€œI think he did.” Belle cuts her eyes at me. Belle is about five feet tall and fierce as a banty rooster. I can’t see anybody getting the best of her in an argument.
    â€œWhat did he want?”
    â€œHe complained a little