The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames

wasn’t able to give you much help with your sister,” I say.
    She looks small, standing on the porch, illuminated just by the light from my front porch. “I have to go see her to settle my mind. Maybe I’ll get a girlfriend to go with me.” She laughs bitterly. “I guess Curtis isn’t going to kill me if I show up with a witness.”
    â€œYou really think he’s that dangerous?”
    â€œI don’t know. But I won’t feel good until I see my sister.”
    After I escort her to her car and she drives away, I stand looking at the sky. In the past couple of days the early mornings have been cooler, with high clouds that dissipate by mid-morning, and then the heat comes back in force. But the clouds are piled up in the west this evening. The weather will be changing. I’m ready for the heat to go.

Taylor is as excited as a teenager when she stops by my house to pick me up Friday night. She bounces out of the car wearing a blue jean skirt and a green and gold T-shirt, Jarrett Creek school colors. She has scared up her old cheerleader pom-poms, and waves them around with a jaunty dance. “I’m counting on you to not let me get too wild. I’m a wife and mother now, and it won’t do for me to get into trouble.”
    As soon as we get settled in the stands, people Taylor went to high school with swarm around us. Everyone is chattering, catching up on old times. I don’t see Woody and Laurel and I wonder why, since they usually come to the games. I wonder who is going to bring Jack Harbin. Bob always had him here early and they sat right behind the team bench. Bob would keep up a running commentary, and when he ran out of steam, there was always somebody there to pick up where he left off.
    It’s Walter Dunn who wheels Jack down in front. The team hasn’t come out yet. Gabe LoPresto is there, too, and he and Dunn carry Jack up the steps to his seat, and set the wheelchair aside.
    You’d get cited for a fire hazard in some stadiums if the wheelchair blocked the aisle, but Panther stadium is made out of local stone. It was built as a WPA project, and is unburnable.
    I leave Taylor to her gaggle of friends and go down to spend some time with Jack and his posse. There’s no drinking in the stadium, but they’re passing around a flask, and I doubt anybody would object.
    Walter Dunn scoots over so I can sit down next to Jack. I ask Jack how he’s feeling today.
    â€œOkay, I guess. Besides having a hangover, that is. At least Curtis has gone back home. Makes things a little more relaxed.”
    â€œWith Curtis gone, have you moved into the house?” I ask Dunn.
    He grimaces. “Struck a little bump in the road on that one.”
    Jack laughs. “His old lady read him the riot act. Said he had to get his ass back home at night.”
    â€œMe and the boys offered to take turns spending the night,” Dunn says. “But Miz Gant says she’d just as soon make a little extra money and she’s not charging much.”
    â€œHow’s that working out, Jack?”
    â€œI like her,” he says. “She doesn’t take any shit off me. And she knows how to laugh.”
    Before I can ask what kind of arrangements he has during the day, the crowd starts to holler as the team trots out of the clubhouse.
    â€œThere they come,” Dunn says.
    â€œHanging their heads from last week’s loss,” somebody behind us comments.
    â€œHell, it wasn’t their fault,” LoPresto says, turning around. “They’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
    I notice Walter Dunn is quiet, and staring at the team, frowning. He leans forward and gets LoPresto’s attention and points over at Boone Eldridge. “Is that the coach?”
    â€œThat’s the SOB that lost the game,” LoPresto says.
    â€œJack,” Dunn says, “that coach looks like a regular person. The way everybody talked about him after