“You know damn well what happened. I was the last one seen with him, so I got arrested and stood trial.”
This is purgatory for me. Hearing the truth of what happened sears me through, but I press on. “Did you do time?”
“No. My lawyer put up a good fight and I was acquitted of murder, but I still bore the stain. With nobody else arrested for the crime, folks thought me guilty, and worse, that I’d gotten away with it.”
“I am sorry, Jack. Sorrier than you can know.”
He sets aside plate and towel, turns to face me, folds his arms across his chest, and studies me for a second or two. “Feel better now?”
“No, I feel worse, as is my due. I’m ashamed of what I did, Jack. That shame has been a constant companion all the years.”
“So you came here to get shed of it?”
I have to think on this. I finally say, “I’m not certain on details or reasoning. I just know I couldn’t get on with life any longer without settling things with you.”