One Good Deed

Chapter 44

He set off down the road carrying the wooden case on his hike back to Poca City proper.

It was a long walk, and the dusk grew into night as he went along. He would put out his thumb whenever a vehicle passed but no one even slowed down. Archer finally thrust out his thumb one more time as the headlights bore down on him. However, he held out no hope the vehicle would stop for him until he heard the gnashing of lowering gears and the slowing of an engine.

He turned around as the car pulled off onto the shoulder. The passenger’s-side window came down with a jerky motion.

“Mr. Shaw?”

The detective was grinning at him through the opening.

Archer eyed the big Buick. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Drove over to Texas yesterday. Took me near to forever. Just getting back.”

“Texas? Why?”

“Get in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“And I’ll do the same with what I found out.”

Archer climbed in, and Shaw pulled the big Buick back onto the road.

“Guess your arm’s okay,” said Archer, noting the sling was gone.

“Aches a bit, but I’m fine. What’s in the case there?”

“I’ll show you when we get to town.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you found out first?” said Shaw.

Archer went through some of what he had learned. But he did leave out the details of the carbon copy letter he had found. He wasn’t certain why he had, but his gut was telling him to keep that to himself.

“So Jackie and Ernestine Crabtree had something going together?” said Shaw, when Archer was done.

“That’s right. And they went over to Marjorie Pittleman’s that night. But Marjorie later told me she hadn’t seen Jackie or the money I gave her.”

“Good catch on the muddy car, Archer. I didn’t see that one and I was staring right at the dang thing. And you think they emptied out the safe that night. Why?”

In answer, Archer told the detective about the recording where Tuttle had cut his daughter out of his will.

“That would give her a motive to steal what was in that safe,” said Shaw. “Only how did she get it open? She didn’t have the combination.”

“No, I think she did.”

He showed Shaw the slip of paper he’d found in Jackie’s trash.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Sure looks like a safe combo to me.” He eyed Archer proudly. “You did good, son. Damn good. You got the makings of a fine detective.” He paused as he watched Archer frown.

“What’s wrong?”

When Archer didn’t answer, Shaw did it for him. “You like these two gals. And you don’t want to see them in trouble?”

Archer nodded. “You hit it right on the head.”

“If they broke the law, Archer, nothing you can do about that.”

“I guess.”

“So Ernestine has up and gone. And you can’t find Jackie?”

“I think they’re both gone.” He sat up straighter in his seat and stared out the windshield into the dark. “Now, tell me what you were doing over in Texas.”

“After you told me what happened with Ernestine’s father, I called a friend of mine at the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“The FBI! You mean J. Edgar Hoover and those boys?”

“I do indeed. Anyway, this buddy of mine is assigned to Amarillo, Texas.”

“Okay.” Archer took the pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket. “You want one?”

“Hell, yes.”

Archer shook a pair out, lit one up and passed it to Shaw, and then did the same for himself.

Shaw rolled down his window and blew his smoke out. “Anyway, I spoke with my buddy and he recalled the case. He phoned a friend of his in the Amarillo Police Department and put me in touch with him. I drove over to Amarillo yesterday shortly after I left you, and I’m just getting back now, like I said. They had a tornado come through there a few a months ago, wrecked half the damn town. Felt like I was back in the war.”

“Damn. So what’d you find out?”

“Carson Crabtree was a fine police officer who everybody liked and respected.”

“Except for the fact that he killed three people.”

“Hold on, I’m getting to that.” He puffed on his cigarette. “Thing is, those three men? They did have one thing in common.”

“What was that?”

“They all knew Ernestine.”

“And that never came out?”

“It did, but only after Carson was executed.”

“Why only then? Didn’t people investigate?”

“Why would they, Archer? Carson Crabtree confessed to the killings. What was there to investigate?”

“Right.”

“Anyway, it did come out later when a curious reporter down there did a little digging. One of the men had been caught peeping on women.”

“That was in that article I told you about.”

“What you don’t know is that he’d definitely been caught peeping on Ernestine.”

“Okay. But how does that tie into what happened?”

“You know young men, Archer, being one yourself. Some think they can do what they want with the fairer sex. They start by peeping, then move on to something a lot worse.”

Archer shot him a hard look. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“The policeman I was talking to believed that the three men, well, they did things to Ernestine.”

“You mean...?”

“They raped her, Archer, or so the man believed. And more than once.”

“And that’s why Carson Crabtree killed them?”

“Hell, if somebody did that to my little girl? I know I’m a lawman and all, but so was Carson Crabtree. I might just do what he did.”

“But if he killed those men, he must’ve known what they did to her. He could have used that to not get electrocuted. Hell, he probably could’ve gotten off completely. You said that yourself.”

“Now, there’s the interesting part. The theory the man had is that Carson was guilt-ridden because, in his mind, he had failed to protect his daughter. And on top of that, if he used what they had done to his daughter as a defense, it would have to all come out. He probably thought the shame would have ruined her. So he confessed and went to the chair. For her sake.”

Archer sat back. “I think the man might be right. Remember the letter in the scrapbook?”

Shaw nodded and said, “You think her mother knew and she was telling Ernestine not to dwell on it, not to blame herself for what her father did?”

“I think so. But then Ernestine’s mother killed herself. I guess she couldn’t heed her own advice.” Archer rubbed his brow, tossed his cigarette out the window, and said, “Damn, I need a stiff drink.”

“I’m with you there, son. Maybe more than one.”

They drove on to Poca City.