Page 40 of Over the Edge

“The friend who gave you this is causingyoutrouble. This bracelet was stolen last Friday.”

Pop shook his head. “My friend doesn’t steal.”

“Then he or she won’t be in trouble if you give me their name.”

The man studied him, his expression suggesting he was trying to work through the logic of that but having difficulty. As if too many hard years had dulled his brainpower.

“I don’t think I should do that.”

A different tack was in order.

Jack returned the envelope to his pocket and leaned back, adopting a casual tone. “Where do you live, Pop?”

“Down by the river most days, unless it gets too cold and I have to go to a shelter. But I don’t like shelters.”

“Why not stay with this friend of yours on cold days?”

“Nope. Three’s company, you know.” He grinned, revealing a gap where his left lateral incisor should have been.

“Your friend is married?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When did this friend give you the bracelet?”

“Yesterday. Not in person. Someone delivered it.”

“Who?”

Pop took another chug of coffee. “Don’t know his name. Another homeless guy who was passing through. He left this morning.”

Dead end.

“How do you know the bracelet was from your friend?”

“There was a note with it.”

“What did it say?”

“That I should bring it here and use the money to buy myself a warm coat and a pair of boots for winter.”

“You still have the note?”

“Nope again. I was supposed to throw it away after I read it, so I did.”

“Where?”

“I tore it up into little pieces.” Pop pantomimed the motion. “Then I tossed it into the river.”

In other words, the note was gone—assuming this whole story wasn’t a fabrication.

Yet every instinct in Jack’s body told him the man was being truthful.

Even if he wasn’t the perpetrator of the robbery or the murder at the Robertson house, though, the bracelet said he had a connection to the killer.

On to plan B.

“You know, Pop, you’re in possession of stolen jewelry. And you were trying to sell it.”

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