One Good Deed(74)

He checked his watch and left. It was about time for the truck to pick them up. The slaughterhouse worked every day but the Sabbath, he’d been told. Surprisingly, Dill wasn’t there. Archer asked around, but no one knew where the little man had gotten to. They just seemed collectively relieved that he was not among them.

Archer worked all day and rode back on the truck with the other exhausted men. At least tomorrow there would be no work. When he got off and was heading down the street, Shaw’s big Buick pulled up alongside him.

“Hey, been looking for you,” said Archer.

“Been outta town. Get in.”

Archer climbed in.

“Why were you looking for me?” asked Shaw.

Archer told him about Dill and the threats and his wanting to know what Archer was doing with Shaw.

The detective took this all in with a few nods.

“Now, where have you been?” asked Archer.

“To see a doctor and an insurance man.”

“You sick?”

“Not for me. Hank Pittleman’s.”

“I’m not following.”

“Let’s go get some grub. And I could use some coffee.”

They again ate at the Checkered Past, this time opting for chicken over steak. And this time Archer paid for the meal with his slaughterhouse money.

When Shaw put down his second cup of coffee and wiped his mouth with his red and white checkered napkin, he eyed Archer closely.

“You been spending time with Miss Crabtree.” It wasn’t a question.

Archer’s face fell. “How do you know that?”

“My job is to know everything, Archer. Sometimes I get there, and sometimes I fall short. But I’m always trying.”

“She’s letting me stay at her place till I can afford something else. Look, you don’t have to tell anybody about this. She’s just helping me out. There’s no funny business going on.”

“I don’t doubt that. And from all accounts, Miss Crabtree can take care of herself.”

“Now, I went over to Jackie’s last night. And slept there.” Before Shaw could say anything, he added, “On the couch, by myself.”

“So why’d you go to Jackie’s?”

“I told her about Pittleman’s cancer.”

“And why did you do that?”

“You think I messed up again?”

“Not necessarily, I just want to hear your reasoning is all.”

“I guess I wanted to see if she already knew about all that. See her reaction.”

“And?”

“And either she’s as good an actress as Katharine Hepburn, or the woman didn’t know anything about it.”

Shaw took this in, rubbing at his jaw.

“And Miss Crabtree?” he said, his tufty eyebrows hiking suggestively. “Despite what you just said, you like her, don’t you?”

Archer nodded. “She’s a special gal.”

“Nothing wrong with liking special gals.”

“And the woman has had to deal with some bad stuff.”

“Like what?”

Archer was about to tell the lawman about what was in the scrapbook but decided not to. It had nothing to do with the case, and he didn’t feel he had the right to share such personal information that he had gained only by looking at something he had no business looking at.

“Just boys being idiots. Catcalls and crummy notes passed under her door. Even a deputy sheriff who’s got the hots for her.”

“She’s a fine-looking woman. Just the way it is. Like you said, boys are boys. Not saying it’s right. I got a daughter and two sons. Up to the parents to teach them right. Respect goes both ways, or it don’t count.”

“That’s all I got. What about you?”

“I tell you on the condition that you don’t go blabbing it around, you hear me?”

“I hear you. I guess I’m kinda surprised you’re even letting me know anything. Or work with you on this thing.”

“First time I ever let a suspect help me investigate, Archer, and that’s no lie.”

“So why me?”

“I got my reasons. And that should be good enough for now.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, met with a medical specialist Pittleman was seeing on the south side of the state, good ways from here, I tell you. Put some miles on the Buick.”

“What’d the man say?”

“He confirmed that Pittleman was dying. Incurable. Even cutting him up woulda done no good. This was about six months ago. Told Pittleman he had about a year left to live at that time.”

“Okay. But we already knew that.”

Shaw held up a finger. “What we didn’t know was that the doc told me that Marjorie Pittleman was there with her husband on a couple of occasions.”

“So she knew he was sick?”

“That’s right.”

“How’d you even figure to check on that?”

“I don’t take nothing people tell me as the truth till I get someone or something else to absolutely confirm it. See, the thing is, people lie, all the time.” He gave Archer a hard stare. “We call it corroboration.”

“Okay. But why is that important?”