One Good Deed(76)

“Has she tried to collect on the policy?” Archer asked.

“Not so far. I asked the company to let me know. And that Malcolm Draper never tried to get hold of me. I’m thinking we need to pick that man up and make him talk.”

“He was looking out the window at us when Lucas Tuttle was leaving after paying his respects to Mrs. Pittleman.”

Shaw paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “He was? Why didn’t you tell me then, Archer?”

“I don’t know. I mean, the man works there. Didn’t see it as odd that he was in the house.”

Shaw chewed on his cobbler, took a sip of coffee, and considered this. “How likely do you think it was that Tuttle was over there paying his respects?”

“About as likely as Dickie Dill winning a personality contest.”

Shaw snorted at this and then grew serious. “So why was he there?”

Archer looked sheepish.

“What?”

“Tuttle was putting some papers in his pocket when he was coming out of the house.”

“What sort of papers?”

“Couldn’t tell. But he owed Pittleman five grand plus interest. Maybe he paid it off.”

“And the papers might be the promissory note. So Marjorie must have had it.”

Archer tried hard not to show his confusion, because Marjorie didn’t have those papers. Archer did. Part of him wanted to confess this to Shaw. The other part of him won out.

“Maybe” was all he could manage.

They finished their meal and headed over to the Derby Hotel. They asked at the front desk for Draper’s room and whereabouts.

“He went out about an hour ago,” said the clerk.

“And what’s his room number?” asked Shaw.

“Two fifteen.”

“Give me the key.”

“But—”

Shaw held up his star. “Right now, mister, ’less you want to get to know the insides of a jail cell real good.”

The clerk nearly threw the key at him.

Instead of taking the elevator, Shaw joined Archer on the stairs. When Archer looked at him inquiringly, Shaw said, “Even a lawman sometimes don’t like doors closing on ’im.”





Chapter 31



DRAPER’S ROOM WAS NEAT and spare, and they found no evidence that the man was involved in any criminal activity whatsoever. In fact, other than the man’s clothes and toiletries, they found nothing at all.

“Maybe you were wrong then,” said Archer. “Maybe he doesn’t know anything.”

“No, I think it means I’m right. No man is that tidy without a reason. He doesn’t want to leave anything for someone to find.”

Archer slowly nodded. “I could see how that might be.”

“Then you’re learning, son.”

They went back downstairs, where Shaw turned the key back over.

“Mr. Draper will probably be back around ten,” said the clerk.

Shaw shot him a look. “How do you know that?”

“He most likely went out to the slaughterhouse.”

“What the hell?” barked Shaw. “You sure?”

“I didn’t see him, if that’s what you mean, but he goes out there most days after dinner.”

Shaw slammed his fist down on the man’s counter so hard, the fellow jumped clear back to the wall. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me that before?”

The man stammered, “Y-you d-didn’t ask.”

Shaw pointed at him. “Don’t you go nowhere, fella, less I wanna arrest your ass when I get back.”

“What for?” cried out the man.

“For being stupid if nothing else.”

He and Archer rushed out and climbed into the Buick.

“Of all the dumb sons of bitches,” exclaimed Shaw.

“What’s the hurry going out there?” asked Archer.

“I want to see what that man does out there every night. And if we can catch him in the act of doing something wrong, I can use that to get him to rat on the others. Ain’t no honor among thieves, Archer. They’re just bad folks you got to grab by the neck and shake.”

The big Buick roared to throaty life.

With Archer giving directions, they made it to the slaughterhouse far faster than the truck Archer normally rode there on. The place was dark and there were no vehicles out front.

Shaw peered through the Buick’s windshield. “You got a gun, Archer?”

“I’m on parole. I can’t have a gun, Mr. Shaw.”

“Well, I’m making an exception right here and now. Just don’t tell nobody.”

Shaw hit a button on his dashboard and a little panel dropped down under it. Revealed was a revolver with black walnut grips held in place by pressure clips. Shaw freed it.

“Smith and Wesson .38 Special Victory Model, double action with fixed sights. Carried this baby in the war. Never fired it once.” He cracked a grin. “Couldn’t hit anything with it on the ground from ten thousand feet up in the air.” He handed it over to Archer. “But whatever you hit with that sucker ain’t getting back up.”

He grabbed a flashlight from the glove box.

“Maybe Draper already came and went,” said Archer.