Дэвид Балдаччи - One Good Deed

“Yes sir.”

“Did you remove anything from this room or the body?”

Archer didn’t hesitate, because he knew to a man like Shaw that would be the same as lying.

“No sir.”

“You see anybody? Hear anybody?”

“No. It was just me.” Archer paused. “Now, I know this doesn’t look good.”

Shaw unexpectedly chuckled. “Well, you’re right about that, son, but it don’t take a genius, does it?”

“What happens now?”

“I have more than enough to arrest you, you know that?”

“Look, what would be my reason to kill the man? I was working for him. Him dead, I don’t get squat.”

Shaw chewed on the butt of his stogie. “Miss Tuttle made the same argument to me earlier.”

“Well, she’s one smart gal. So?”

“A job and money’s not the only reason to kill a man.”

“I don’t see another, least in my case.”

“Sure you do, Archer, think about it.”

“Give me a clue.”

“How about a woman? Miss Tuttle? You wanted her and Pittleman had her. For all I know you went to his room, you both argued about the lady, and you did what you did.”

“You think I’d kill a man over a woman?”

Now Shaw laughed outright. “Hell, Archer, if I had a dollar for every man who’s killed another man over a woman, I’d be a damn Rockefeller.”

“Did you check the knife for my prints? ’Cause I can tell you for a fact they aren’t on it.”

“There were no prints on there because the killer wiped them off, probably on the towel. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left it behind. He just was careless about the doorknob.” On this Shaw looked pointedly at Archer. “Meaning maybe you were.”

“But why not take the knife with him?”

“Then you got a weapon that killed a man to hide or dispose of. Not an easy thing to do.”

“You think I brought a knife with me from prison!”

“You took a long bus ride here. For all I know you bought or stole a knife from someone on that bus. Or you coulda done the same while you were here. Miss Tuttle told me Pittleman gave you an advance. Forty dollars cash. How much of that you got left?”

Archer took a quick breath but didn’t answer right away. So now Shaw knew about the money Archer owed to Pittleman. Which meant Archer now had a motive to kill the man.

“Well, I bought some stuff, clothes, and food and such.”

“Right, but you didn’t do your job, Archer. You didn’t get the car. So that means you owed Pittleman money. And I been asking around about the man. He is not somebody you want to owe money to. Did you get into an argument with him about that?”

“No, I was going to talk to him about it but never got the chance.”

“So you say. And the fact is, you didn’t have to bring a knife with you. Jackie Tuttle and two other witnesses have already identified the murder weapon as belonging to Mr. Pittleman himself.”

“I know that. He took it out in the—”

“—in the bar where you met him? Miss Tuttle told me about that, too. That’s another lie you told me. You’re ringing up quite a tally. So the fact is you could have used Pittleman’s own knife to slit his throat and presto, you don’t owe him a dime because he’s not around to demand it.”

“Lots of other men probably owed him money.”

“But lots of other men weren’t sleeping with his lady friend or staying in a room pretty much right down the hall or leaving their prints on a doorknob to the dead man’s room. You, and only you, on the other hand, hit the trifecta on that.”

Frustrated, Archer fell silent while Shaw’s gaze continued to bore into him.

“I’ve investigated a lot of crimes, Archer. And this isn’t my first murder, not by a long shot. Did it before the war and I’m doing it again. Now, it can take a while, but I’ve never failed to get my man in the end.”

“As a law-abiding citizen now, I’m right happy about that.”

“We’ll see how happy you are when I’m done. This is a hanging state, you know that?”

“Tell the truth, I hadn’t bothered to look into it.”

“That might change, as time goes on.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“Not right now, no.”

“So, I can go?”

“For now. But, Archer, don’t try to make a run for it, you hear me?”

“You keep telling me that.”

“Because I want the message to sink in loud and clear, son.”

“I got nowhere to run, and no interest in running. That’s for a guilty man to do, which I’m not.”

“You’re a funny one.”

“Nothing funny about being wrongly hanged.”

“I’ll grant you that. Now get on out of here.”

Archer went to his room, shed his new clothes down to his skivvies, opened the window because he felt claustrophobic and bitter about what was happening, and lay down on the bed in the dark and stared at a ceiling he couldn’t really see.

The four walls of his room seemed to be closing in on him. The feeling of claustrophobia was, in fact, far stronger than he had felt at Carderock after the mayor’s daughter had turned all his sincere help into a tale of vicious kidnapping. He had been simple and naive and just plain stupid to let that happen to him. The fact was he had also been trusting, because he had relied on his comrades-in-arms with his life during the war. It had never occurred to Archer that once he was home again in peacetime, his fellow citizens would turn against him.

Still, he was fortunate they hadn’t given him life in prison, but Archer would never get back the several years they had taken. He would never feel he had gotten the better end of some vague deal.

And here it was happening again.

An hour passed, and Archer never once stopped looking up at nothing.

Then he rose and put his clothes back on.

It took him twenty minutes to walk it. Then he was outside of Number 27 Eldorado Street. Despite the lateness of the hour, there was one light on in what he knew was Jackie’s bedroom. He wanted to know what else she had told Shaw.

He walked up to her door and knocked.

“Who is that?”

The voice came from the right of him. He stepped back and looked at the lit, open window.

“It’s me, Archer.”

“Archer?”

Her voice sounded funny.

“What do you want? I’m in bed.” There was nothing inviting in her tone.

“I need to talk. Shaw came by to see me again at the Derby.”

“Well, he came by to see me again , too. Woke me out of a dead sleep. He only left a bit ago.”

“Can I come in? It’s important.”

A long moment passed before she said, “Give me a sec.”

A minute later she opened the door and in the light from inside, he saw she was dressed in a thick light blue robe that went down to her ankles. Her face held a scowl.

She stepped back, and he passed through.

They sat in the living room. She stared at him and he stared down at his hat.

“Shaw is setting up to arrest me for Pittleman’s murder,” he finally said.

She nodded. “I could tell that by the questions he asked me.”

“It would have been nice if you had given me some warning. And he took your fingerprints, too. That would have been good to know,” he added accusingly.

As soon as he said this, Archer realized he had made an unforgivable mistake. The scowl turned to something else, something that unnerved Archer maybe as much as fighting the Germans had.

She stood and looked down at him. When she spoke her voice was low and calm and still managed to bristle with menace.

“Let me tell you what would have been ‘good to know.’” She paused, but only for a second. “When you came to see me before the cops showed up, you didn’t tell me that Hank was dead. But according to what Shaw told me just a bit ago you sure as hell knew he was dead. Now, that would have been good to know, Archer.” She bent down and slapped him hard across the face. The blow stung and reddened his skin and made his eyes water a bit. But Archer didn’t move, he didn’t say anything. When she raised her hand to strike him again, he assumed no defensive posture, did nothing to stop her.