Chapter 35
As Richard Carlan drove toward the St. Francis homeless shelter, he had a sudden idea.
He turned on Franklin Avenue and drove through downtown to the west side, pulling up in front of the Hardaway residence. They were still up, though it was nearly midnight.
He knocked on the door. There was that frightened pause on the other side of the door that every homeowner would take when there was a loud knock so late in the evening. Carlan sensed that he was being examined through the spyhole. Then the door was flung open in welcome and Howard Hardaway was beckoning him in.
“Everything all right, officer?” Howard asked.
“Call me Richard, for goodness’ sake.” He was annoyed that they still seemed to believe he was a stranger. Not for long, if he had anything to do with it. “I just w
