One Good Deed(126)

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.”