One Good Deed

Chapter 38

“You nervous, Archer, about seeing this gal?” asked Shaw as they trudged along later that morning. The rain had passed, leaving a clear sky and crisp temperatures. They had decided to walk rather than drive.

“Not really. I was nervous when me and my company were surrounded by Germans who outnumbered us five to one at Salerno and we were running out of ammo.”

“What’d you do?”

“Only thing we could think of. We charged their position because it was the last thing they’d expect us to do. Overran their right flank and got back to our lines.”

“Your plan?”

“I admit I was the only one stupid enough to come up with it, but my scouting revealed a weakness on that flank and a sliver of a path we could take to escape. And the captain okayed it.”

“It worked, so how stupid could it be?”

“You’d think.”

“I’m not sure how smart it was letting Jackie Tuttle go back to her house,” said Shaw.

“But Dill’s dead and Draper’s still in the hospital unconscious.”

“Yeah, but you’re presuming that they attacked her on their own. My thinking is somebody paid them to try to kill her. Same as what happened to Sid Duckett.”

“I never thought of that,” conceded Archer.

“You really want to be a shamus, son, those are the very things you need to think about.”

“But Ernestine Crabtree was going to be with Jackie when her father came. And I know she knows her way around a gun.”

Shaw looked at him strangely. “Does she now?”

Archer couldn’t figure out the look on the man’s face, and he was afraid to ask.

The two trudged on.

“What do you two want at this hour of the morning?” asked Jackie at the front door of her house.

She was dressed in the same thick robe as before, and her hair was matted and her eyes were tired.

“I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news, Miss Tuttle,” said Shaw, his hat in his hands. “Can we come in?”

She glanced quickly at Archer, saw his grim look, and stepped back for them to enter.

They sat in the front room. “What bad news?” Jackie asked anxiously.

“I’m afraid it’s your father.”

“Did something happen to him? Is that why he didn’t show up last night?”

“So there was a meeting planned?” said Shaw, glancing at Archer.

Archer could sense what the man was thinking. He’d just gotten corroboration of what Archer had told him.

“Yes. Nine o’clock at my house. Archer arranged it. But he never came. I finally got mad and went to bed and Ernestine went home. So, is he ill? Is that why he never showed up?”

“No, ma’am.” Shaw cleared his throat. “Fact is, someone shot him and he’s dead as a doornail.”

Jackie rose, wavered, and then looked like she might topple over.

Archer leapt up just in time as the woman went into a dead faint. He caught her, lifted her up, and set her on the couch. “See any brandy or anything around here?” he called out.

Shaw gazed frantically around the room. “No, but let me check the bathroom for some smelling salts.”

“Yeah, and while you’re at it, why don’t you check yourself for another way of telling a daughter her daddy’s dead as a doornail, Mr. Shaw? I mean, for Chrissakes.”

Shaw looked suitably chagrined and rushed off in search of the smelling salts.

Archer sat down next to the unconscious Jackie, checked her fluttery pulse, and patted her hands and cheeks. When Shaw came back with the smelling salts, he applied them under her nose.

With a jerk she sat up and slowly looked around.

“I’m very sorry about that, Miss Tuttle,” said Shaw nervously. “I should have found a more, um, delicate way to tell you.” He shot Archer a quick glance.

“Somebody murdered my father?” she said, her eyes welling with tears.

“I’m afraid that’s right. Did he have any enemies that you know of?”

She sniffled and said, “The only one I could think of is dead, too.”

“You mean Hank Pittleman?”

Jackie nodded and gingerly put her feet on the floor. She leaned back against the sofa cushion, took out a hankie from her robe pocket, and wiped her eyes and then her nose, while Archer placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

“When did this happen?” she asked.

“Sometime late last night. We’re not sure of the exact time of death, but he’d been dead a while when he was found.”

“Who found him?”

“Bobby Kent. He called the police. It was around one a.m.” He glanced at Archer. “Archer was out there to see your father yesterday, too.”

“I knew about that. He borrowed my car to go.”

“He said he was going out to try to resolve the debt held by Pittleman.”

“I knew that too, and he did. Got three hundred for himself. He told me yesterday.”

“He showed you the money?”

“Yes. And he gave it to me, too. We were going to take it to Marjorie’s today.”

Shaw looked at Archer once more.

Archer said, “Sounds like corroboration to me.”

Shaw turned back to Jackie and said, “Well, what you might not know is that Archer here pilfered the promissory note from Pittleman’s body.”

“Well, he’d have to give that to my father, or he wouldn’t have paid the debt,” said Jackie defensively.

“I know that. But I don’t like people lying to me, even if they are innocent.” Shaw said this last part directly to Archer, who looked suitably chagrined.

“I can understand that,” said Jackie.

“When did Ernestine go home?” asked Archer.

“Around eleven last night.”

“And your father never showed up here?”

“No.”

Archer looked at Shaw. “He has Bobby Kent drive him around in that big Caddy. He would know if Tuttle drove anywhere last night.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” said Shaw surprisingly.

“What do you mean?”

“I talked to Kent last night. He was waiting at the house when we got there, of course.”

“You think he had something to do with it?” blurted out Archer.

Jackie said, “Bobby wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Shaw held up his hand. “No, he couldn’t have killed Tuttle or driven him anywhere last night.”

“Why not?” asked Archer.

“Because he was out of town picking up a load of farm supplies. He had to get them last night or they were going to ship them back. He left around seven last night, picked up the supplies, and got back to the farm around one. He found the body and called us from the house phone a minute later. I’ve checked on his story and confirmed all of it. I got there around two, and your father had for sure been dead more than an hour. Coroner confirmed that. Kent’s not the killer.”

“But with Bobby out of town, my father would have had to drive himself here,” said Jackie.

“That’s right. Now, Miss Tuttle, you sure you don’t know anyone other than Hank Pittleman who was at odds with your father? Anyone having a grudge?”

“I’ve been gone from my father’s house for a year, Mr. Shaw. So I can’t speak to what happened after that. Now, my father could be a hard man. Even his friends would say that. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill him.”

“Would anyone profit from his death?”

“I guess I would. I’m his only child. But he only had the farm. And when I left he was having money troubles.”

“Not anymore,” said Archer. “The man had a safe full of cash and gold bars and such.”

“What!” cried out Jackie.

“Come again?” said a stunned Shaw.

Archer explained about the contents of the safe and how the wealth had come via the companies finding oil on Tuttle’s land. “They’d paid him an advance and he was expecting a lot more money from it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday, Archer?” exclaimed Jackie, looking at him with a confused expression.

“Your father asked me not to.”

“Why?” she snapped.

Archer looked deeply uncomfortable. “He... he didn’t want you coming home just because he was rich.”

When Shaw looked puzzled, Jackie said, “Most people didn’t know this, but about a year ago my father was on the verge of bankruptcy. He kept up a strong front and all and probably robbed Peter to pay Paul to keep up appearances, but financially things were not good.”

Archer said, “He told me he’d had six straight years of drought and he was hurting.”

“I know that to be true,” added Jackie.

Shaw looked at Jackie. “So you didn’t know anything about that?”

“No, as I said, my father and I were estranged. I heard rumors around town that some oil companies were poking over his land.” She glared at Archer again. “And Archer here apparently thought I’m so shallow that dangling money in front of me would make me go running right back to my daddy.”

“Now look, Jackie—” Archer began.

She turned to Shaw. “Where is his body?”

“At the mortuary.”

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“No question about it.”

“I would like to see my father’s body today, if that’s permissible.” She glanced at Archer. “Estranged or not, he’s still my father.”

“I can come get you around noon if that’s all right,” said Shaw.

“That’s fine.”

“And I’d like you to go out to your father’s house with me at some point.”

“All right, but I don’t think I can manage that today.” She wiped her eyes once more.

“I’m really sorry, Jackie,” Archer said.

“My father and I were never really close. But he was the only family I had left. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She rose and went into her bedroom and shut the door.

Out on the street, Archer found himself taking three deep breaths.

He glanced at Shaw, who was watching him closely.

“Well?” asked Archer.

“I don’t know, Archer, I really don’t. Either you’re the dumbest man I ever met, or the unluckiest. Or the smartest. Jury’s still out on that.”

“Right now, I’ll take the unluckiest. And a close second would be the dumbest.”

“I met a lot of infantry who were lucky. Lucky a bullet or a mortar round or bayonet missed its mark.”

“I had my share of those. Why I’m still here, I suppose.”

“You think you used up all your luck in the war, then?”

“Might be starting to look that way.”

Shaw put on his hat. “Maybe more than starting.”

“Hey, Shaw, didn’t you see all that stuff in the safe when you were out there last night?”

“No. I saw the safe, of course, and I tried to open it to check.”

“Why’s that?”

“A dead man and a safe, Archer? Don’t take a genius to think there might have been a robbery. Matter of fact, the thing was locked, and I had no way to open it. Hopefully, Miss Tuttle will be able to open it when we go out there. If not, I can get into it another way.”

The men started walking back to the Derby.

“Give it to me straight, Mr. Shaw. You think I killed the man?”

“No, I don’t, Archer. That’s as straight as I can give it.”

“But I made money off him. And truth is, I met men in prison killed for less than what I got.”

“You’re building quite a good case against yourself. Congratulations.”

“I’m not saying anything you’re not already thinking, am I?”

“Now you’re showing your smart side, as opposed to your unlucky and dumb side.”

Archer gave him an odd look. “So, you’re not jailing me then?”

“We both fought a war, Archer. But I don’t necessarily feel like I owe you anything on that score, because most of us fought. As for your guilt or innocence? Well, you look at the big things — motive, opportunity — yeah, you’re a suspect. But when I look at the little things, it don’t add up to you being involved in the man’s death. I been doing this long enough to see the difference.” He paused. “But the thing is, Archer, I got people to report to. And sometimes they’re not nearly so smart as me. So you ain’t out of the woods yet, no matter what I think. Now I got some things to take care of.” He tipped his hat. “See you around.”

Shaw disappeared down the street, while Archer trudged on with all his troubling thoughts. He felt his confident gait fade to nearly a prison shuffle.