One Good Deed

Chapter 34

“No enemies that I can think of, Archer,” said Jackie.

She and Archer were sitting in the front room of Ernestine’s bungalow. Ernestine had gone to the evening service at the Methodist church, but she’d left her gun with Jackie.

“You sure?”

“What, do you think I go around ruining people? Hank did that, not me.”

“Which means there are a lot of folks who might have wanted to kill him.”

She shivered. “I woke up and saw that awful man hovering over me with a knife.”

“Dickie Dill standing over anybody, man or woman, would have been a disturbing sight.” He paused. “He, um, he didn’t do anything to you before he tried to kill you, did he?”

“No, but—” Jackie started to weep and reached out to him.

Archer took the woman into his arms. “It’s okay, Jackie, that man’s not going to hurt anyone ever again.”

She gently touched his damaged face. “Does it hurt?”

“Not compared to being dead, no.”

She composed herself and sat up. “But why would they want to kill me?”

“You mentioned it yourself the other night. They maybe thought you knew something that they were afraid of. Did they ask you anything? I mean, about Hank or such?”

“No. I just heard a noise, woke up, and there he was. I started screaming.”

“Lucky we were outside and heard it.”

“How is Shaw?”

“He’s fine. Tough man.”

“It was sweet of Ernestine to let me stay here.”

“Once you two get to know each other, I think you’ll be friends.”

“She’s very nice.”

“So, did you two gals talk about me?” He said this in a joking way, but underneath, a nervous Archer wanted some genuine answers.

“Talk about you? How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess how gals talk about guys.”

She sat up straighter, pursed her lips, and said in a disapproving tone, “What, like comparing performances in the sack?”

“I never slept with Ernestine.”

“Says you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, it’s not like I would care, Archer. We’re not married.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling a bit disappointed by her response.

“She thinks you’re nice. And you saved my life, so you’re okay in my book, too.”

“You’re a funny gal, Jackie.”

“No, I’m just not what you’re used to encountering in a ‘gal.’”

“You speak the truth there,” he said.

This seemed to defuse her standoffishness and she curled up next to him and said, “What about the debt that my father owes Marjorie Pittleman?”

“What about it?”

“In case you forgot, you were supposed to go out there again and get it paid.”

“Hell, I had pretty much forgot about that.”

“I don’t see how you can afford to do that. It’s a lot of money, Archer. Unless you want to keep butchering hogs.”

He mulled this over. “Well, the fact you’re no longer with Pittleman is a good thing. Your daddy might pay based on that. Hell, Marjorie might need the money now.”

“Five thousand plus interest,” she said. “That would come in handy.”

“You been giving this some thought, I see.”

“What else do I have to do?” she shot back, but then smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

“But your daddy made it pretty clear that the only way he’ll pay the debt, and me, is if you come back home, Jackie. And you’ve made it just as clear that you’re not gonna do that.”

She fingered his lapel. “But what if I agreed to... to meet with him?”

Archer glanced sharply at her. “Why would you do that?”

“He is my father. And you do need the money.”

He held her at arm’s length. “Jackie, don’t base this on me getting paid.”

“But I could meet with him. In fact, it might be best.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know, Archer, but I think I have to try. Me almost getting killed? Well, it makes a person think, you know.”

“Look, you don’t have to worry about it now. You just need to stay here and rest and, well, just get right in the head. Somebody trying to kill you takes time to get over.”

“No, I think I need to get this resolved, Archer.”

“Okay, but how? Would you go out there to meet with him?”

He saw her perceptibly shudder.

“No, I can’t go out there. But... but you could tell him that I can meet him at my house.”

“You sure about that?”

“I am. Can you go tomorrow and tell him?”

“If that’s what you want. What time do you want him to meet you?”

“Say around nine o’clock tomorrow night.”

“Fine. I’ll be right there with you.”

“No, Archer, I don’t want you there.”

“But why? Why meet with the man alone?”

“I won’t have to. Ernestine can come with me.”

“But she doesn’t know anything about this.”

“Which is why I think she’s the right person to be there. She won’t have to be with us while we’re meeting, just in the house.”

Archer thought about Ernestine’s skill with a gun, which might come in handy. But if Tuttle brought his shotgun...

“Look, if he has his shotgun, you don’t let him in.”

“He won’t have his shotgun, Archer. Good Lord, he’s my father.”

Archer studied her for a moment. “Look, you’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you?”

She suddenly glared at him. “Why do you ask that?” she snapped.

“No... no reason.”

“You do have a reason. What else did he tell you when you were in the car with him?”

“I already told you.”

“Not everything.”

“Jackie, you don’t need to hear this now.”

“Yes, I do,” she snapped. “I’m tired of you keeping things from me, Archer.”

“He said that you and your ma were a lot alike. Beautiful, but...”

“But what?”

“I guess you two butted heads a lot.”

“We didn’t see eye to eye on everything. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“No, sure there’s not.”

“What else did he say?”

“Look, Jackie, I’m not...”

“Did he say we were unstable?” She grabbed his jacket. “Did he?”

He looked at her, searching the woman’s eyes for what was really inside her head right now. What he saw was a person who was starting to unsettle him. “He didn’t use that word. But, like you just said, he told me you were both strong women. And that he was—”

“He said we were violent, didn’t he? That he was afraid of us?”

“Look here, Jackie, won’t you tell me how your mother died? Desiree said it was an accident, but she wouldn’t say how.”

“Did my father talk about it?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“What did he say?”

“That... that maybe it wasn’t an accident.”

“Tell me exactly what he said. Now!”

Archer blurted out, “He said something about the truth destroying people and maybe it was better not knowing it, something like that.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I guess I come down on the side of knowing the truth is better than not knowing it.”

Jackie said nothing for several long moments. She simply stared off.

“She fell.”

“Fell? How?”

“From the barn, the second story where they winch the bales up to the hayloft. She died from the fall.”

“Good Lord.”

“I found her,” said Jackie quietly. “I found her body.”

Archer held her tight. “I’m really sorry, Jackie.”

She abruptly pushed away from him. “I’ve gotten over it.”

“I doubt you ever get over something like that.”

“You’re wrong, because I have. I’m... I’m going to lie down now. I’m tired.” She rose, picked up her purse from the side table, and tossed him a set of keys. “For the Nash. Just leave them in the glove box when you’re done.”

He caught the keys and looked up at her. “Okay, Jackie.”

She disappeared into the bedroom.

Very disturbed by what had just happened, Archer was about to take his leave when the door opened and Ernestine walked in. Her churchgoing clothes were charcoal in color and modest and demure in design. Her hat had a little veil, and her hair was once more done up in a tight bun.

When she saw him, she looked around. “Where is Jackie?”

“She just now went to lie down. How was church?”

“Soothing.” She took her hat off and said, “Would you like some coffee?”

He eyed the bottle of Rebel Yell.

She followed his gaze, smiled resignedly, got two glasses and filled them with a finger each, and handed him one. They sat on the couch and sipped their drinks.

“Is Dickie Dill really dead?”

“Dead as they come. It was a close thing. Little man almost did me in.”

He was surprised to see her lips tremble at this. “I’m so very glad that he did not.”

He flashed her a grin to reverse her anxiety. “Hey, it’s all good.” He glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “Did Jackie talk to you at all?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything, I guess.”

“She was very frightened. And she was very grateful for what you and Detective Shaw did.”

“Nothing about her father, maybe?”

“No, not about him.”

“Okay. Uh, anything about me in particular?”

“Like what?”

“Just anything.”

“She likes you. She’s comfortable around you. She thinks you’re a good person.”

He nodded, feeling ashamed for trying to pry information from the woman.

“Can I ask you a question, Archer?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you care for Jackie? I mean, do you love her?”

This was not what he had been expecting.

“I’m, uh, well, to tell the truth, I’m not sure what love really is, Ernestine. If it’s feeling good with someone, liking how they look, and wanting to be around that person, then yeah.” He paused, glanced down for a moment, and then decided to say it. “But that could apply just as much to how I feel about you.”

A part of him wanted to keep looking away from her, but a stronger part of Archer compelled him to stare directly at her.

“I see,” she said, eyeing her lap.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. And I know that I put you on the spot with my question. But your words were spoken with a great deal of sincerity.”

“So, how do you feel about me?” he said quietly.

She glanced up at him, perhaps sensed the urgency, the necessity of having an answer showing clearly in his features.

“I like being around you too, Archer. Very much. But perhaps not in exactly the same way that you want to be with me.”

He nodded slowly. “Well, a man can’t ask for a straighter answer than that.”

They fell silent for a few moments. Then Archer said, “Jackie wants to meet with her father at her house, tomorrow night. And she wants you to be there with her. I’m sure she’ll talk to you about it, but I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“What will they be talking about?”

“Lots of things. Some I know, some I don’t have a clue about. But are you okay with that?”

“I am. If that’s what she wants.”

He finished his drink, rose, and fingered his hat, looking nervous.

“Is there something else?” she asked quietly, peering up at him.

“My old man, rest his soul, was a good father. He, uh, he stood up for me a lot when I was a kid. I grew into my height and all later on. So some of the bigger kids would rough me up and such. But my dad was always there.” Archer held up a fist. “He taught me how to fight proper and all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Sometimes my father would go too far, though. He beat up a couple older kids that had knocked me around. Police got called out on him. He almost went to jail, but in the end didn’t. It was bad all around for everybody, and back then I got mad at my old man for doing it. But the thing I came to understand is that he did what he did because he loved me. It really was that simple.”

Perhaps involuntarily, Ernestine glanced in the direction of her bedroom and where the scrapbook lay before her large and now sad eyes came to rest on him once more.

“Do you understand what I mean?” Archer said, his look unsure and anxious.

“I think I understand exactly what you mean, Archer,” she replied.

She looked at him with an expression that Archer couldn’t entirely fathom. It was sort of caught between hope and heartbreak, he supposed.

“Ernestine, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Archer, thank you. I hope everything works out for you.”

“Yeah, me too. Well, good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” she said with something akin to finality, at least in his eyes.

Troubled by this odd impression, he left.