One Good Deed

Chapter 52

The sea voyage was rough for much of the way because of gale-force winds clustered along the shipping channels. But it seemed the more hostile the ocean was, the more soundly Archer slept in his first-class berth. It was perhaps fitting that a man who had done his hardest fighting on land and even lost his freedom there could find peace in such chaotic waters.

He would venture out to the top deck from time to time to admire the vastness and calamitous pitch of the ocean, while most passengers and even some of the crew were below decks vomiting into buckets. For him, this trip symbolized many things. Yet chief among them was redemption. Not for him, though he could use a fair amount of it, he supposed. No, this journey was not about him. It was about others.

During the war, Archer had one chief goal: to survive. Wedded to that enterprise was his desire to survive with as many of his fellow soldiers as possible. In that spirit, one looked out for the other. Sometimes you risked your life to save another. Sometimes you succeeded and sometimes you didn’t, and sometimes all died in the collective effort. But there was profound risk in not trying. Then what sort of a world would one have? Not to be too mushy about it, thought Archer, but thinking only of yourself as you trudged through life was a lonely journey indeed.

He finally reached Brazil and immediately made his way inland to São Paulo. To an address that he had taken off the crate in Hank Pittleman’s warehouse and stuck in the Gideon Bible in his room at the Derby. It was a small house on a low rise of earth with expansive views just outside the city’s main footprint. It was painted a deep eggplant and had yellow shutters. There were exotic flowers in terra cotta pots thriving in the warm air and hot sun, in a place where rain bursts were plentiful and welcome.

Archer had purchased a new wardrobe; his three-piece suit was beige and made out of lightweight summer cloth that was comfortable for where he was right now. He wore a Panama hat and brown lace-up leather shoes, and his face was tanned and weathered from the ocean trip.

Archer walked up the steps to the front door and knocked. He almost instantly heard approaching footsteps.

When the door opened, he had to look twice to recognize Jackie Tuttle. Her hair was dyed blond, for one thing, and cut short in a gamine style, the peekaboo all gone. And instead of the clingy and expensive dresses he was used to seeing her in, she had on a pair of faded coveralls, like those the factory women would wear during the war. Under that was a loose-fitting blue cotton shirt. No gloves, hat, jewelry, or makeup in sight. On her feet were a pair of clogs.

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” he said.

“That’s because I’m not.”

She stepped back to allow him passage.

He walked through and into a small front room.

It had three chairs and a small settee resting on threadbare carpet. In one of the chairs was Ernestine Crabtree, looking as physically modified as her companion. Again, he had to look twice to make sure that it was her. Her blond hair was styled in an urchin cut and partially covered by a plum-colored beret. She was also dressed as plainly as Jackie.

He sat down with his hat perched on his knee and looked around. “You like it here?”

“It’s warm, sunny, and beautiful, and the people are friendly,” said Jackie as she sat next to Ernestine. “And we’ve got some money to live on — the remains of the cash my father paid on the debt to Hank. But I’ll have to get a job at some point.” She paused and eyed Archer with a bemused look. “Maybe I can find a Hank Pittleman down here.”

“How’d you come by this place?” asked Archer.

“This used to belong to my mother’s family. It passed to me when she died. I used to travel here with her when I was younger. I can speak the language, which comes in handy. And I’ve been teaching Ernestine.”

Archer nodded as he took this in and then looked at Ernestine. “I’m sorry for what happened to you back in Texas,” said Archer.

She glanced sharply at him. “How did—”

“I... saw your scrapbook,” he said. “And Mr. Shaw checked into some things.”

Staring down at her lap, she said, “When my father was arrested, he told me he would only go to jail for a few months. He had me and my mother move away and then he said he would come and join us.” She halted here, the tears clustering in her eyes. Jackie put a supportive arm around her. “And then... and then...”

“I know, Ernestine,” said Archer quietly.

She suddenly sat up straight and brushed away the tears. “I couldn’t believe it. I was so furious with them both. I didn’t care if my father told everyone what those men had done to me. I just wanted him to be with us. I... I didn’t want him to die on my account. And I said things to my mother, things I regretted.” She paused once more as her eyes filled with fresh tears. “And then she was gone, too.”

After she composed herself, Archer looked around and said, “So where’s the Royal typewriter?”

She glanced up and said quietly, “I... I have a little room in the back of the house.”

“For your scribblings?”

“She’s working on a novel, Archer,” said Jackie. “I’ve read parts of it. It’s really good.”

“‘A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction,’” said Archer, quoting Virginia Woolf.

“Y-yes,” said Ernestine. “So I believe, too.”

“Maybe you can take everything you had to endure in life and put it on those pages, Ernestine. And I think you’ll have a fine book. Because sometimes, you just have to be rid of it, and move on.”

A few moments of silence passed.

And then Jackie took a letter from her pocket and held it up. “You wrote to me here and asked me to come back and testify.”

“And if you did, I said everything would be okay, for both of you, and me. I gave you my word.”

“But why was that so important? You had Marjorie Pittleman dead to rights with that recording. And my father, too. He confessed to killing Hank and Sid Duckett. You didn’t need me to win your freedom.”

“It wasn’t about my freedom, Jackie. It was about yours.”

He took out the onionskin carbon copy and handed it to her. “I found this curled up inside your father’s Remington. I don’t think this went through Desiree Lankford, or else she would have told you.”

She read quickly through it and then looked up at him in shock. “My father was accusing me of killing my mother. He said he had evidence and he wanted Brooks to prosecute me for murder. He wanted to see me hang.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Even after everything he did, he still wasn’t done hurting me.” She handed back the letter and said quietly, “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You left home because of what he did,” said Archer.

“I wanted to kill him. I wanted to throw him on that corn picker. But he just laughed at me. Said I was just a girl, no one would believe me.”

“He tried to make out to me that you were the crazy, violent one.”

She gazed at him with wide, probing eyes. “I guess with how I acted around you, you might have been justified in believing that.”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Jackie. I could see that. Nothing devious there. Your father, on the other hand, he was way too manipulative. Way too slick. Those are the ones you have to watch out for.”

“I guess your reading all those detective novels came in handy,” interjected Ernestine.

Archer said, “I wanted to put you on the stand and show Brooks that you didn’t kill your mother. I didn’t want you to have to worry about that ever again. And now you don’t. I confirmed that with him.”

Jackie looked shaken by this news and said, “Thank you, Archer. That was very kind of you.”

“But you didn’t know that was my reason. I didn’t put that in my letter to you.”

“And so I didn’t have to come back.”

“But you did, Jackie. Why’s that? It was risky for you. You had to trust me.” He paused. “And for a few seconds in the courtroom, I’m not sure you did.”

She looked away for a moment before focusing on him. “Remember I was asking you how it was in the war?”

He frowned. “You mean the killing part?”

“No, about being part of something bigger than yourself. Well, I guess that bigger something was you, Archer. I... I couldn’t leave you to fight that battle alone. That’s why I came back.”

Ernestine leaned forward and said, “We had no idea you were going to be implicated in what happened. With the evidence from the safe in the Nash and all. I had already left town, and Jackie soon followed. But we never meant to hurt you, Archer, never.”

“I believe you,” he said simply.

Jackie said, “When I was on the witness stand, my trust in you did waver at one point.”

“But?” said Archer.

“But in the end, I figured I had to count on a man at some point in my life. And it might as well be you. I think you earned that right.”

He nodded and said, “I thank you for that.”

A few moments of silence passed.

“Archer, how did you know I had seen my father kill my mother?”

“I didn’t know for sure. But in prison I hung around a lot of guilty people, so I know what that looks like. But I was innocent, so I know what that looks like, too. You loved your mother and you butted heads with her, nothing wrong with that. But Lucas Tuttle tried to convince me you had killed her, while you wouldn’t even talk about it, or got agitated when you did. And then you left home to be Pittleman’s chattel. You never struck me as the type that would do that unless you had a really good reason. And that reason was you couldn’t live with a man who had killed your mother, and you wanted to punish him in the only way you could, by being with Pittleman.”

“That was very perceptive of you, Archer,” she said quietly. “Because that’s exactly why I did it. I knew it would drive him crazy, and I wanted to hurt him for what he’d done.”

“I would have too, if I were you.” He paused. “But now it’s time to let it go, Jackie. You can’t let your hate for the man dictate the rest of your life. He’s gone now. You need to get on with living, on your own terms.”

Ernestine smiled and patted Jackie’s hand. “I’ve been telling her that ever since we got here.”

Jackie said, “But why did you really ask Marjorie all those questions on the witness stand? You could have just played what was on the recorder. That would have been enough.”

“I was lucky Tuttle had forgotten the machine was on. But sometimes people won’t believe what’s right in front of them. And Marjorie is a good liar. I wanted to lay out the reasons why she would kill your father and pin her down on the stand before I played what was on that recorder. Mr. Shaw would call that corroboration, of a sort.” He paused. “And I wanted to make that pious-looking woman squirm, after all the terrible things she’d done.”

“I can see that,” said Jackie.

“Now I got a question.”

She smiled and wearily shook her head. “You still like your questions.”

“I never figured out exactly why you needed that maid, Amy.”

“The man who ran the warehouse for Hank was sweet on her. He gave her a key to the building, so they could meet up there sometimes and be alone, and... you know.”

“Good to know I’m not the only man who got taken in by a pretty lady.”

“Trust me, Archer, you’ll never be alone in that regard.”

“Desiree tipped you off about Bobby Kent not being around to drive your father to town that night?”

Jackie nodded. “It’s why I picked that time. Desiree has always been a good friend. I gave her some of the money from my father’s repayment to Hank. I... I feel like I earned it more than he did.”

“I think you’re right about that. Now, you must’ve seen that contract that Marjorie signed that was in the safe?”

“We did. But we were moving so fast, Archer, we never looked at it. We just grabbed everything quick as we could. It took the both of us to carry each of those gold bars out. I was terrified my father was going to show up before we were finished.”

“And good thing you got out of there before Marjorie showed up with Hank’s gun.” He grew quiet and studied both. “I take it you and Ernestine were good friends back in Poca?”

Jackie said, “We were drawn together. We found that we had some...” Her voice suddenly faltered.

Ernestine finished for her. “We found that we both had some challenges in our past that drew us together.”

Archer gave each of them a searching look. “I can understand why you might not want to trust any man for the rest of your lives. But I want you to know that I wish you no ill will.” He took one of their hands in each of his. “Life can make suckers of us all. I’m a young man in years, but an old one inside after the war and prison.” He directed his gaze at Jackie and then Ernestine. “During the war, I guess we were all part of something bigger than ourselves. Then the war was over, and it just left us with what we started with, but wanting something more than what we had before. But I think to really be part of something special, you have to find something special in yourself first. Now the three of us have a second shot at something and maybe we’ll mess that up, too, I don’t know. But what I do know is I’m a lot better off for having met both of you.”

The women looked back at him, and tears clustered in not only their eyes, but in Archer’s as well. Maybe for the first time in his life.

After a few moments of silence, Jackie said quietly, “What you just said was pretty insightful, Archer. You sure you didn’t graduate from college?”

“Yeah, I did. The college of hard knocks.” He rose and drew two pieces of paper from his pocket. “I also came down here to give you these.” He handed one to Jackie and the other to Ernestine.

They were two cashier checks.

Both women gasped when they saw the enormous amounts the checks were drawn for.

“What in the world, Archer?” cried out Jackie.

“Good God,” chimed in Ernestine.

He said, “That’s your shares from what was in the safe.”

“Why did you take it from the warehouse?” Jackie asked.

He smiled in an embarrassed fashion. “After you left me high and dry, I did it partly out of anger. But maybe part of me was thinking you would have more incentive to come back if you thought I had the money.”

Jackie returned the smile. “You didn’t trust me to do the right thing for altruistic reasons?”

“I never expect more from others than I expect from myself,” Archer replied diplomatically.

“But why give it to us?” asked Ernestine.

“I considered it a debt that needed to be repaid to you both. And you know I’m really good at collecting debts.”

“But you deserve some of it,” said Jackie.

“The good folks of Poca City compensated me fairly for my troubles.” He ran his hand along his suit lapel. “How do you think I could afford these duds or the boat passage here?”

A few seconds passed, and Archer watched Ernestine reach out for Jackie’s hand. And then they hugged. And in that hug Archer saw two people who were perhaps more than friends. This made him smile. Because everyone should have someone like that in their lives.

When they had drawn apart, Jackie said, “Now I got a question for you. Where’d you hide the stuff from the safe after you took it from the warehouse?”

“You know that place you told me about? Where you used to play as a kid and imagine yourself to be anything you wanted to be when you grew up? Well, I buried it there for safekeeping under that burned-up Cadillac. Didn’t think anybody would bother looking there.”

Archer put his hat on, cocked it at an angle, and turned to the door.

Jackie quickly rose and said in a disappointed tone, “You’re leaving? Already?”

“Well, if you’re willing, I thought I might take you two ladies out to dinner and drinks before I shove off and commence wandering again. And who knows, I might make something of myself. Mr. Shaw thought I could make a decent shamus.”

“I think you can make of yourself anything you want, Aloysius Archer,” said Ernestine.

“We’ll need to change,” said Jackie, looking at her plain outfit.

Archer shook his head and said, “I think you both look fine just as you are.”

He put out an arm to each of them, which they immediately took.

The three walked out the door into the bright sunshine of a new world that held an abundance of possibilities.