One Good Deed(123)

It was the wooden case with the Dictaphone. He set it on the table in front of Archer.

“What is that?” demanded the judge.

“Mr. Tuttle’s recording machine,” answered Archer. “From his office. It’s called a Dictaphone.”

“How do we know it belonged to Mr. Tuttle?” demanded Brooks.

“You know what Mr. Tuttle’s voice sounds like?” asked Archer.

“Yes, of course. I knew him well.”

“Well, proof’s in the pudding. So can I go ahead? See, I’m just trying to get to the truth, which I think is the whole point of why we’re here.”

Richmond looked at Brooks, who again resignedly shrugged, but who also looked awfully curious about what Archer was planning to do.

“All right,” said the judge grudgingly. “But fair warning. If anything on there is out of bounds, you are good as gone from my courtroom.”

Archer carried the case up to the witness box, took the Dictaphone out, and placed it on the rail of the box while Marjorie sat there and stared fiercely at him. Then he plugged the machine in using an outlet on the floor next to the bench. He rewound the tape to a certain spot and turned to the courtroom.

“What you’re about to hear will clear up not one, not two, but three murders.”

He hit the button, and the first sound that could be heard was the squeak of a door opening. It was almost like listening to a radio show. Everyone in the courtroom, young and old, leaned forward to hear.

Lucas Tuttle said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

The next voice to be heard seemed to suck all the air out of the large room.

Marjorie Pittleman bellowed, “You cheated me, you son of a bitch!”

“I cheated you?” screamed Tuttle. “Look at that! My safe is empty. Someone stole everything in it.”

“I don’t care about that. Malcolm Draper was working for you! He drained Hank’s businesses.”

Tuttle laughed. “That brain tumor must have dulled old Hank’s senses. It was easy as taking candy from a baby. Not just failing to pay bills but making some singularly bad business decisions that proved costly for him. Very costly. But he was too far gone to see it. He just drank his whiskey and had my daughter on his grubby arm.”

She shrieked, “You took all the money and left unpaid bills for me. I had a lawyer look at that contract after I signed it. He told me because of all the debts, you’re getting Hank’s businesses for nothing!”

“Well, then we’re even because he took my Jackie from me. And he made me take out a loan personally so he could rub my face in it. Well, look who won: I did.”

“Your daughter is a slut, and everyone knows it. She waltzes in and becomes my husband’s concubine! That’s why I—”

“That’s why you what?” demanded Tuttle in a mocking tone.

“After I learned about Hank’s debts, I confronted Draper. I had figured out what was going on, you see. That detective told me about the bills not being paid. I told Draper he had to kill her or else I was going to the law. But he couldn’t even manage to do that! The idiot!”

There was a moment of silence until Tuttle said, “Well, part of me is sad they didn’t kill her. But now that I got the slaughterhouse, I’ll do to her what I had my boys do to Sid Duckett. Did you know he tried to blackmail me when he found out Draper was working for me? Well, it cost him, all right. Hogs had a nice dinner on him,” he added gleefully.

“You cheated me! The contract I signed is worthless! Where is it? I want you to tear it up. I’m not selling.”

“Too late for that, Marjorie. And you should have read the fine print, it was all right there. But then again, you wouldn’t think to do that, only being a woman.”

“You bastard!”

“You should be thanking me. I got rid of your husband for you, didn’t I? If Hank’s gambling had kept up, those Vegas boys would have come and taken your house and more. That’s why you begged me to have him killed, wasn’t it, so you could sell out? Even though he was already dying? Because a dying man can still gamble, but a dead one can’t.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Only you didn’t know about all his other debts. That equaled a lot more than two hundred thousand dollars.” He paused. “But I’m a fair man. You get to keep the house.”

“But I can’t afford to live there!” she wailed. “And I have no money to pay the debts!”

“Then sell it. I’ll give you a couple of bucks for that monstrosity. But in the future, Marjorie, try to remember that size does not equal good taste.”

On the tape, Marjorie didn’t respond to this barb. The real Marjorie was sitting as motionless as the fox around her shoulders.

The room was so quiet that not only could one hear a pin drop, one could probably hear the air being propelled along by the pin as it fell.

Then the whole courtroom nearly jumped out of their seats at the next sound.

The single gunshot cut through the room like one had actually gone off in their midst. As though not only had someone cried out fire inside a crowded room, but there actually was an inferno. And then came the sound of a body falling to the floor.

When these sounds ceased, on the tape Marjorie said, “How’s it feel, Lucas? Being killed by ‘just’ a woman?”