One Good Deed(80)

“You always been that way?”

“Nope. But something about fighting a war and spending time in prison just does that to a man.”

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

A minute later, so did Irving Shaw.





Chapter 33



IT WAS THE FOLLOWING DAY, around five. Shaw, his wound sutured, his blood levels fully restored, and his arm in a sling, had been pronounced to be out of danger. Now he was standing in front of Marjorie Pittleman’s door with Archer next to him.

The elderly Agnes answered the door after Shaw knocked.

Shaw had wanted to question Draper, but he was still unconscious and had been transferred from a jail cell to the hospital. They feared his skull might be cracked.

“Now I wish I hadn’t hit him so hard,” lamented Archer when he heard this news.

Agnes led them down the hall to the conservatory this time. Marjorie was seated on a chaise lounge with silk upholstery reading a book when they were shown in. As usual, a tall glass of something on the rocks was on the small table next to her. Archer was concluding the mild-mannered woman perhaps drank all the time. And maybe he couldn’t blame her.

“Yes, gentlemen, do you have news of my husband’s killer?”

Shaw took off his hat with his good arm.

“My word, what happened to you both?” asked Marjorie, noting the sling and Archer’s battered face.

Shaw pointed to two chairs. “May we?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

They sat, and Shaw stared at the placid woman.

“There have been developments, ma’am.”

Marjorie closed her book, adjusted her pince-nez, and looked across at them.

“Such as?”

“Such as Sid Duckett getting fed to the hogs out at your husband’s slaughterhouse. And two men trying to kill Jackie Tuttle last night.”

Marjorie paled and dropped her book to the floor. “Excuse me!”

Shaw gave her a dead-eyed stare. “We also know about the life insurance policy on your husband, Mrs. Pittleman.”

“That’s right. It was Hank who insisted that we take it out on him.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Shaw skeptically. “Why?”

“Well, we all have to die, Mr. Shaw. And Hank took out the policy, not me. You can ask the insurance person.”

“But you knew about it?”

“Yes, of course. I was the beneficiary, after all.”

“On the life insurance application, it said that your husband was in good health.”

“Well, as far as I knew, he was.”

Shaw’s mustache twitched. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“According to his doctor, you were with your husband when he told him he had incurable cancer in his brain. What do you say to that?”

“I didn’t believe him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t believe the doctor. I told Hank to get a second opinion. As far as I was concerned, Hank did not have cancer.”

“I doubt the insurance company will believe that.”

“Then I will fight them to the very end,” she snapped, her calm, refined expression gone in an instant. “I will not let them browbeat a poor, old widow, or cheat me out of money that is rightfully mine!”

“Okay,” said Shaw, slowly glancing at Archer.

Marjorie calmed as quickly as she had grown angry. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, I’m sure you can understand how distressed I am about all this. But my money issues are not important. You said Sid Duckett is dead? And someone tried to kill Jackie?”

“One of her attackers was Malcolm Draper.”

“Sid Duckett and Malcolm Draper! My God. They both worked for Hank.”

“Which is why I’m here.”

“You can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with any of this. That…that is…I would never. How could you believe…?”

“Ma’am, look at it from my way. Your husband dies, you get a half-million bucks. Your husband was having a, well, an affair with Miss Tuttle. Lots of wives have killed their husbands and their husbands’ mistresses. Just a fact of life.”

Marjorie waved this off. “That is not how it was in this particular circumstance, Detective.”

“Then why don’t you tell me how it was, Mrs. Pittleman?”

“Jackie Tuttle was, well, an element of convenience for me.”

Archer said, “She told me it was the same for her.”

Marjorie said, “I’m sure. I can see how it would be, of course. I mean, Hank did financially support her.”

“But why would you let that happen right under your nose?” exclaimed Shaw.

She looked at him with pity. “I really had no say in the matter. I mean, look at the French. The men there have mistresses. And the wives tolerate it.”

“This ain’t France,” said Shaw.

She shrugged. “Women must do what we can. The fact is, Hank had control of everything. When he ventured to…seek out the affections of others, I struck a bargain with my husband. Jackie became a part of that bargain. If it were up to me, I would not have made that arrangement, but it was not up to me. So, there you are. It was not a perfect situation by any stretch, but it worked for us.”