The Hanging of Samuel Ash by Sheldon Russell Page B

after hours. I don’t much give a damn if they’re killing scabs or not, though I got my doubts there’s one among them with the grit for hanging a man.”
    Hook searched for a cigarette. “Did Samuel Ash say anything about being in the army?”
    â€œHe didn’t say nothing about nothing, and that’s more than I wanted to know.”
    Hook turned to leave. He paused.
    â€œIt’s hard to understand why a man decides to kill someone, Slope. Maybe he just wants to know what it feels like. Or maybe he reaches his limit. Maybe he’s just pushed too far on the wrong day. It’s something to think about, though.”
    *   *   *
    Hook cut by the Harvey House on his way back to the depot. He stopped to light a cigarette just as the chef stepped out the back door.
    â€œHook,” he said. “You come to pay that ten dollars. It never showed up in my tip jar.”
    Hook hiked his foot on the bench and lit his cigarette. “I meant that money to be for taking care of my dog while I solved crimes,” he said. “Far as I can tell, Mixer didn’t get any attention whatsoever. Poor devil could barely stand on his feet. Another day and he’d have starved to death.”
    â€œHe ate better than I did, Hook, not to mention what he stole out the back. On top of that, he terrorized an old lady’s poodle so bad it went into shock and had to be revived.”
    â€œI didn’t pay ten dollars for my dog to be set loose on stray animals. Intelligent dogs, being high-strung as they are, shouldn’t be coaxed into fighting without cause.”
    â€œIf Fred Harvey ever hears what happened in his dining room, I’ll lose my job and maybe my life.”
    â€œLook,” Hook said. “I’ll pay you the ten, even though you failed to earn it, strictly speaking, but I’ve had a run of bad luck with my health.” Hook rubbed at his shoulder. “I’ll just cut back on the medicine and make payments along, if that will be alright?”
    â€œI don’t remember you saying nothing about making late payments when you left that dog here in the first place, Hook.”
    â€œA few days’ wait is the least a man can do for a sick friend,” Hook said.
    â€œIf I have to wait for my money, I should be getting fifteen dollars instead of ten, interest for the inconvenience, so to speak.”
    â€œI could do twelve, though a man’s health is not under his control, you know. Anyway, if Fred Harvey gets word of Mixer’s indiscretions, I’ll take full responsibility for it myself.”
    â€œTwelve, then,” he said. “But no more delays.”
    â€œYour patience and understanding of my situation is noted, Chef, and I don’t forget a favor. I’ll be doing business with you again.”
    The chef opened the kitchen door. “You and your business can go to hell, Hook, and that crazy mutt right along with you.”
    *   *   *
    Popeye pointed to the desk drawer. “Another security badge came,” he said. “They must have a factory working overtime.”
    â€œMaybe you could just point it out minus the commentary, Popeye.”
    â€œIt’s in that drawer,” he said.
    â€œThanks,” Hook said, opening the drawer.
    He dropped the badge in his pocket and helped himself to the peanuts Popeye kept hidden in the back.
    Popeye lifted his brows. “You’d think a yard dog could keep track of his own badge, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œNeed to use your phone, Popeye, if you’re through questioning my ability.”
    â€œJust go ahead but try not to lose it somewhere before you’re done,” he said.
    Hook kicked his feet up and dialed Eddie Preston.
    â€œSecurity,” Eddie said.
    â€œEddie, Hook here.”
    â€œRunyon, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
    â€œI’ve been working that wigwag case. Turns out the