One Good Deed(95)
There were no lights on, and he couldn’t hear a sound coming from the place.
He finally walked over and knocked on the front door but got no response. He used the key the woman had given him to open the door. He went right to her bedroom and looked through her closet. It didn’t take long. It was empty. All her clothes were gone and so was the scrapbook.
Archer sat on the woman’s bed and, for one of the few times in his life, had no idea what to do.
Chapter 40
LATE THE NEXT MORNING, Archer was lying on his bed in his pants and undershirt, gazing at the ceiling and thinking hard about all that was troubling him, when someone knocked on his door. He opened it and found Irving Shaw leaning on the doorjamb and staring back at him.
“What?” said Archer.
“Got a problem.”
“Dammit, Mr. Shaw, every time you come to see me you say something like that.”
“Don’t blame me. It sure as hell ain’t my fault.”
He barged past Archer and into the room.
Archer slowly shut the door and watched as the lawman paced the small footprint of the room.
“You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?” asked Archer finally.
“We went out to Lucas Tuttle’s house this morning.”
“Who did?”
“Me and Jackie Tuttle.” Shaw sat down in the sole chair. “You been here the whole night?”
“Yeah. Man at the front desk can tell you that. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Why, what did you find out there?”
“I’ll tell you what we didn’t find.”
Archer sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay, shoot.”
“We didn’t find anything in the man’s safe. I mean, not a damn thing.”
Archer said nothing. He just gaped at the man like he’d been uttering Chinese.
“You look surprised.”
“Well, that’s because I am. There was all kinds of stuff in that safe, I’m telling you. Including gold bars. I never had the pleasure of carrying gold bars, but I imagine they’re pretty damn heavy.”
“They are.”
“Well, where the hell did it all get to?”
“Now, that’s the question.”
“Did Jackie open the safe for you?”
Shaw shook his head. “She didn’t have the combination. I had to get a locksmith to come out and do it.”
“Damn.”
Shaw looked at him oddly. “You drove Jackie Tuttle’s Nash out there?”
“I told you that already.”
“And nobody’s been there since you were up until Bobby Kent found the man’s body.”
“No, hold on, that’s not right. Whoever killed Tuttle was there after I was. They must have cleared out the safe. You yourself said you couldn’t look in it because it was locked. It might have already been empty when you got there.”
“But the thing is, you’re the only one who has admitted to being there on the day the man died. And by your admission he opened the safe to get the money to pay you.”
“Whoa there. I don’t like where this is headed.”
“That’s not all. I had the Nash searched just now over at the garage on Fulsome.”
“What for?”
“For the contents of the missing safe, Archer! What else, son?”
“Hold on now, are you—”
“Just hush for a minute.” Shaw fell silent for a moment, gathering his words. “We didn’t find any of the items from the safe in the Nash.”
“Well, of course you didn’t because—”
“But we did find traces of them.”
“What sort of traces?”
“Imprints of the gold bars on the carpet in the trunk. And a few grains of what turned out to be gold dust.”
“But I was the only one to drive the Nash out there that day,” Archer replied.
“That’s true. And I was with Jackie Tuttle much of the day yesterday and I had a matron with her last night before I picked her up and we headed out to her father’s place today.”
“Hell, Jackie didn’t have anything to do with this, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I agree. Which is why I’m here, son.” Shaw looked sad, painfully so.
“What are you getting at, Mr. Shaw?”
“Remember I told you folks not as smart as me in the detecting business might throw a monkey wrench in the works? Well, they have. I got my marching orders from the higher-ups. So, stand up.”
“What?”
“Stand up.”
Archer did so.
Shaw took out a pair of shiny handcuffs and put them on Archer’s wrists after gently tugging them behind his back.
“You arresting me?”
“What was your first clue, son?”
“Arresting me for what?”
“That’ll be put into writing down at the police station. You’re gonna get your picture taken, have ink on your fingers, and then I’ll want a statement.”
“Hell, I’ll give you a statement right here and now. I’m innocent.”
“I know you are, Archer, but I got no choice. But let me work this, son. I know what I’m doing.”