One Good Deed(93)

When Shaw looked puzzled, Jackie said, “Most people didn’t know this, but about a year ago my father was on the verge of bankruptcy. He kept up a strong front and all and probably robbed Peter to pay Paul to keep up appearances, but financially things were not good.”

Archer said, “He told me he’d had six straight years of drought and he was hurting.”

“I know that to be true,” added Jackie.

Shaw looked at Jackie. “So you didn’t know anything about that?”

“No, as I said, my father and I were estranged. I heard rumors around town that some oil companies were poking over his land.” She glared at Archer again. “And Archer here apparently thought I’m so shallow that dangling money in front of me would make me go running right back to my daddy.”

“Now look, Jackie—” Archer began.

She turned to Shaw. “Where is his body?”

“At the mortuary.”

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“No question about it.”

“I would like to see my father’s body today, if that’s permissible.” She glanced at Archer. “Estranged or not, he’s still my father.”

“I can come get you around noon if that’s all right,” said Shaw.

“That’s fine.”

“And I’d like you to go out to your father’s house with me at some point.”

“All right, but I don’t think I can manage that today.” She wiped her eyes once more.

“I’m really sorry, Jackie,” Archer said.

“My father and I were never really close. But he was the only family I had left. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She rose and went into her bedroom and shut the door.

Out on the street, Archer found himself taking three deep breaths.

He glanced at Shaw, who was watching him closely.

“Well?” asked Archer.

“I don’t know, Archer, I really don’t. Either you’re the dumbest man I ever met, or the unluckiest. Or the smartest. Jury’s still out on that.”

“Right now, I’ll take the unluckiest. And a close second would be the dumbest.”

“I met a lot of infantry who were lucky. Lucky a bullet or a mortar round or bayonet missed its mark.”

“I had my share of those. Why I’m still here, I suppose.”

“You think you used up all your luck in the war, then?”

“Might be starting to look that way.”

Shaw put on his hat. “Maybe more than starting.”

“Hey, Shaw, didn’t you see all that stuff in the safe when you were out there last night?”

“No. I saw the safe, of course, and I tried to open it to check.”

“Why’s that?”

“A dead man and a safe, Archer? Don’t take a genius to think there might have been a robbery. Matter of fact, the thing was locked, and I had no way to open it. Hopefully, Miss Tuttle will be able to open it when we go out there. If not, I can get into it another way.”

The men started walking back to the Derby.

“Give it to me straight, Mr. Shaw. You think I killed the man?”

“No, I don’t, Archer. That’s as straight as I can give it.”

“But I made money off him. And truth is, I met men in prison killed for less than what I got.”

“You’re building quite a good case against yourself. Congratulations.”

“I’m not saying anything you’re not already thinking, am I?”

“Now you’re showing your smart side, as opposed to your unlucky and dumb side.”

Archer gave him an odd look. “So, you’re not jailing me then?”

“We both fought a war, Archer. But I don’t necessarily feel like I owe you anything on that score, because most of us fought. As for your guilt or innocence? Well, you look at the big things—motive, opportunity—yeah, you’re a suspect. But when I look at the little things, it don’t add up to you being involved in the man’s death. I been doing this long enough to see the difference.” He paused. “But the thing is, Archer, I got people to report to. And sometimes they’re not nearly so smart as me. So you ain’t out of the woods yet, no matter what I think. Now I got some things to take care of.” He tipped his hat. “See you around.”

Shaw disappeared down the street, while Archer trudged on with all his troubling thoughts. He felt his confident gait fade to nearly a prison shuffle.





Chapter 39



ARCHER HAD SOME BREAKFAST, and then later he had his lunch, neither of which he really remembered eating. After that he went back to the Derby and sat on his bed trying to make sense out of all that had happened. Tuttle had never made the meeting with his daughter because he’d been murdered. Jackie had known nothing of the wealth in the safe until Archer had told her. Shaw didn’t believe he was guilty, but others in the law might overrule him. So maybe he had to get himself out of this predicament.

Yet when Archer looked at the problem every which way, not a single answer or viable path of investigation reasonably presented itself. And he wasn’t a shamus, anyway. Though Shaw had taught him a few things and said that Archer had good instincts, what did he really know about detecting? He found himself staring out the window of his hotel room for hours on end, his mind a muddle.