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Chapters (73)
  1. Goodbye to the Dead
  2. Also By Brian Freeman
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. CONTENTS
  8. PROLOGUE
  9. THEN
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. NOW
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. 59
  70. 60
  71. 61
  72. FROM THE AUTHOR
  73. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Clyde labored on an over-tight screw with a wrench that had seen a lot of seasons. He wore coveralls that were greasy with oil stains and a pair of old Converse sneakers. He was shorter and skinnier than his handsome older brother. He wore his hair in a bushy Afro that looked like a throwback to the 1980s. His beard was scraggly and untrimmed. He had a reddish birthmark on his cheek shaped like a turtle with its head and legs poked out.

‘Yeah, Jay was honest, and that scares people,’ Clyde said. ‘People around here don’t like a black man messing with their privileged little lives.’

‘I’m not sure many people in Duluth see themselves as privileged,’ Stride said.

‘Well, that’s the point, right? Jay was just telling it like it is. Like that cop of yours. Skinner. Jay knew what that boy was all about.’

‘Nathan Skinner made a mistake,’ Stride said. ‘I never said he didn’t.’

‘His mistake was getting caught. You know Skinner came after Jay after you gave him the boot, right? Took a swing at him over by the Saratoga bar?’

‘I do. Nathan was drunk. He spent a night in jail.’

Clyde spit on the floor. ‘One night.’

‘We’re talking to Nathan,’ Stride said. ‘We’re talking to everyone who might have had a grudge against Jay. Is there anyone you think wanted Jay dead?’

‘Other than that bitch of a wife? Yeah, okay, it was a long list with Jay. He pushed people’s buttons. Got everybody riled up. That was his job. Remember that column he did on suburban drug addicts last July?’

Clyde got to his feet and wiped his hands. He strolled to a bulletin board in the back of the garage. Stride could see that Clyde kept many of his brother’s newspaper columns pinned there on thumbtacks. The man pawed through yellowed clippings and grabbed one, tearing it and leaving a scrap behind on the board. He brought it to Stride.

‘Folks were talking about this one for weeks,’ Clyde said.

Stride read it, and he remembered the column.

Think you’re safe? You’re not.

Think you know who you should be afraid of? You don’t.

Case in point: I was in line behind a woman at a pharmacy this week. Me, I like my New York steaks, and if that means 40mg of Lipitor a day, so be it. This woman ahead of me, let’s call her Holly. That’s not her real name, but it doesn’t matter. You know who she is. She could be your next door neighbor. Your wife. Your sister. Your boss. Mrs. Everywoman.