One Good Deed

Chapter 14

The patrol car was parked in the gravel drive of the house. It was a wonder to Archer that they didn’t hear it drive up. It was a four door, big-grilled Hudson Hornet with a chrome engine spoiler, a single red light on top, and a chrome-plated searchlight mounted on the driver’s-side door. It was an intimidating vehicle that was, unfortunately, painted a dull yellow with a brown stripe down the side. It might qualify, Archer thought, for the ugliest damn car in the whole country.

Archer retook his seat when he heard the squeak of the front door opening, and the mumbling of words exchanged.

Then he heard Jackie say in a louder voice, “What?”

Footsteps came down the short hall, and two uniformed men dressed all in brown except for black stripes down the sides of the pant legs appeared behind Jackie. One was short and pudgy and about fifty. His eyes were planted on the woman’s backside, accentuated as it was by the tightness of the robe and revealing that she had not a drop of anything on underneath. The other deputy was Archer’s height and age. Their faces were both weathered and their hair, when they took off their wide-brimmed tan Stetsons, was smooshed flat.

When they saw Archer, both lawmen’s faces creased to frowns.

“Who might this be?” the older one asked.

Archer slowly rose. His manner of dealing with men who wore badges and carried guns was to appear forthright and cooperative, without making sudden moves or giving away anything of importance in the way of information.

“Name’s Archer. I was just over visiting my friend.”

“Mighty early for a visit,” said the younger man.

“I was thinking the same thing, Jeb,” said his partner.

Archer looked at Jackie. She looked like she might be sick. “What is it?”

“They just... they just told me that Hank was found dead.”

“Dead? How? Where?”

The pudgy deputy said, “So how do you two know each other again?”

“What the hell does that matter, Bart?” snapped a distraught Jackie.

“Now, look, Miss Tuttle, we’re just trying to get some information,” he said soothingly, now staring at her chest, where, in her distress, the robe had opened, revealing enough cleavage to apparently captivate the lawman.

“How about you find out who killed Hank, how about that?” she snapped.

“Killed?” said Archer. “Somebody killed him?”

“Hell, yes they did!” proclaimed Jeb excitedly. “Bloody as all get out. Never had one like that in Poca before.”

“How do you know Hank Pittleman?” Bart wanted to know.

“He hired me to do a job for him.”

“What sorta job?” asked Bart.

Archer hesitated, wondering how best to describe what he was doing for Pittleman without getting himself involved in the man’s murder.

“Hey, fella,” barked Jeb. “You better give us the straight dope or we’re taking your butt in for some questions. And we don’t ask nice in Poca City.”

Before Archer could say anything Jackie blurted out, “Oh, hell, Hank just... he just hired him to collect a debt from my daddy.” Jackie now had a good deal more twang to her voice than Archer had previously noted.

“Collect money from your daddy?” said Bart.

Through teary eyes, Jackie said, sharply, “Yes, okay? What the hell does that matter? Hank’s dead. You have to find out who did it!” She drilled a finger into Bart’s broad chest.

“Okay, okay, we will. Now, this debt? Do you know where the paperwork for it is?”

Archer involuntarily ran his hand along his jacket pocket where these very papers were.

Jackie stifled her sobs, covered her mouth for a moment looking like she might be sick, and said slowly, “He kept them in his coat pocket. Last time I saw them, they were there.”

“We didn’t find nothing like that in his pockets.”

Jackie glared at him. “Then do your job and look somewhere else! How’s that for a plan, Bart!”

An angry Bart turned his attention to Archer. “Where you from, son?”

“East of here. Took a bus in.”

“From where?” the lawman asked again, his features flexing raw and determined.

No way around it. Archer said, “Tartupa.”

Bart and Jeb exchanged glances.

“One thing in Tartupa that I know of,” said Bart. “And the bus does come here, sure enough it does.”

“What are you going on about?” said Jackie, more tears starting to collect in her eyes.

“Carderock Prison’s in Tartupa,” volunteered Jeb. “Ex-cons come here for parole.”

“Archer isn’t an ex-con,” she said, turning to him. “Are you?”

Now this was a predicament, Archer had to concede. But it wasn’t like he could lie about where he had come from. All they had to do was check his name or go to Ernestine Crabtree and ask her. And you lie to the law, they never seemed to forget. They seemed to take it personally, in fact.

“I did my time,” said Archer.

“What?” exclaimed Jackie. “Then you are an ex-con?”

Bart looked triumphant, even as his partner’s hand stole to the .45 long-barreled pistol riding in his holster. It was a movement not lost on Archer.

“What did they have you busting rocks for?” Bart asked.

“Breaking the law.”

Bart’s triumphant expression vanished and his hand, too, went to his gun, as Jackie, looking confused, took a step back.

“I’ll ask you one more time and one more time only,” Bart said.

“The law said I stole something.”

“What was that?”

“A car.”

Bart snapped, “Shit, they don’t send a man to no Carderock Prison for stealing a damn car. You lying to me, boy. I won’t have it.”

“This was a special car.”

“What kind of special car?”

“It was the car belonging to the mayor of the town I was passing through.”

“Okay, but still.”

“And his daughter was in the car with me.”

Jeb guffawed, but Bart didn’t look pleased.

“You kidnapped the mayor’s daughter?”

“No, she was there voluntarily.”

“Oh really?”

“Well, she had her suitcase with her, with all her worldly possessions in it. Fact was, she didn’t want to spend her life in some Podunk town, and I was her ticket out. But we didn’t have a ride, so we borrowed—”

“You said you stole it,” interjected Bart.

“No, I said the law said I stole it. The daughter was the one who took the car. And since it belonged to her father, I don’t see how that could be stealing. We were going to drop it off in the next town over and take the train. Things didn’t work out that way.”

“What happened then?”

“They caught up to us before we could get on the train, and the mayor got his daughter to say things about me and what happened that weren’t true. And that got me sent to Carderock for a spell.”

Bart rubbed his cheek while Archer glanced at Jackie to see her staring at him with hurt eyes.

Bart said, “Well, that ain’t why we’re here. The fact is, Mr. Hank Pittleman was killed and we’re here to tell Miss Tuttle.”

“Why her?” asked Archer.

“Because they were friends.” Something glinted in Bart’s eyes. “Hey now, where you staying?”

Archer had wondered when the lawman would get around to that.

Jackie answered for him. “He’s staying at the Derby, same as Hank.”

Bart wheeled around on Archer. “Oh, you are, are you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Bart,” said Jackie, who had finally settled down and dried her eyes. “He didn’t kill Hank any more than I did. Hank hired the man. With him gone, so is Archer’s job. How does that make sense?”

Bart’s gleeful look faded. “Is that a fact?”

“That’s a fact,” confirmed Archer.

“Have you told Marjorie yet?” asked Jackie sharply.

When Archer looked at her, he could tell the woman’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour.

“We just found the body,” said Bart. “Maid walked in on him and almost lost her damn breakfast in the process. You know it’s a hike out to their place, but we’ll get there. Wanted to come by and tell you since you’re closer.”

Jackie nodded and managed a brief smile. “Well, I appreciate that, I truly do.”

Archer was having a hard time following all this but waited until the lawmen, who each gave him a stern, suspicious look, had departed.

Jackie sat down and looked vacantly across the room, while Archer went to the window to confirm the law was actually leaving him alone. For now.

He sat down opposite the woman and said, “Can you explain something to me?”

“What’s that, Archer?” she said wearily.

“The law knows about you and Pittleman?”

“Yes. So?”

“Just strikes me as a little odd. And the fact that they’d come here first and tell you before even letting his widow know.”

“Well, like Bart said, I’m a lot closer. It’s nearly an hour out to Marjorie’s.”

“Is this not a God-fearing place?”

“Come again?”

“I mean that people just accept the fact that you and Pittleman have this... arrangement and they’re all good with it? Having met his missus, I know that she knows about you, which strikes me as even odder.”

“Oh, that,” said Jackie. “Well, I saved their marriage, in a way. I guess folks appreciate that. Maybe even Marjorie.”

Archer could tell by the way that she said this last part, the woman didn’t fully believe it.

“In what way would that be?” he said, looking at her funny.

“Hank would have left her for sure if it weren’t for me. Everybody knows that.”

“I’m not following any of this. So just slow it down and let me have it. Take your time. I want to understand this.”

“I don’t have time to take my time, Archer,” she said curtly. “But I’ll tell you this. Hank doesn’t — didn’t — love Marjorie anymore and would have thrown her over in a minute. I mean, divorced her and married someone else. And there were several eligible ladies waiting in the wings, I can tell you that. But then I came along, and I fed Hank’s need. Not just in the bedroom — at his age he wasn’t really interested very much — but in having a pretty young thing on his arm to show off to folks in town. You saw that in the bar, certainly?” Archer nodded. “Well, it made him feel, well, more virile. You know that word?”

“I’ve heard it, yeah.”

“Hank spends time with me in town and then he goes home to Marjorie for a couple of days and comes back to town on Mondays. Marjorie knew I had no interest in marrying the man.”

“Wait a minute, how did Marjorie find out about all this between you and Pittleman? I suppose he told her?”

“No, I did.”

“You!”

“I insisted on it. I’m not going behind another woman’s back like that.”

When Archer still looked confused, she came over to sit next to him. “I know it’s complicated, but it was sort of like a negotiation. I wanted money and a place of my own. Hank wanted a young woman to walk around with and show off. And Marjorie wanted to stay in her big house. In the end, everyone got what they wanted.”

“So, are you happy?” asked Archer.

“Well, I was until I found out Hank was dead.”

“And now?”

“Now, who knows? I’m sort of left out in the cold.”

“Your daddy—” he began.

“—does not figure into the equation of my happiness,” she said firmly. Then her expression changed. “I should go out and see Marjorie later today. We’ll need to let Bart tell her first, of course. You want to come with me?”

Archer looked at her for the longest time until he nodded yes.

“What in the world do you think happened to Hank?” she said. “Who could have killed him? How did he die? Jeb just said it was bloody.”

“Beats me,” replied Archer.