Archer looked at the papers. “They’re bills of Pittleman’s and they’re all stamped ‘past due.’”
“That’s a fact. Man was apparently not paying them.”
“But Pittleman was rich.”
“Even a rich man can spend more than he’s got coming in. And that makes him a poor man.”
“Doesn’t make much sense.”
“It will, eventually.”
“Well, I wish you luck. I just hope you’re coming to the conclusion that I had nothing to do with the man dying.”
“I’m not there yet, Archer. I’m truly not. Just so we know where we stand with each other.”
“Okay.”
“Why were you up so early the morning Pittleman was found dead?”
“Heard a noise outside in the hall.”
“Well, son, I asked you about that, and you said you heard nothing unusual.”
“You were asking about unusual sounds in the night. I heard that sound in the morning.”
“What time again?”
“Around six. Why?”
Shaw’s features turned grave. “Something’s going on in this town I don’t like. You watch yourself, Archer. You watch yourself close and don’t be no fool, son.”
As Archer headed to the door, the lawman added one more warning.
“And don’t trust nobody.” He added warningly, “I don’t care how damn pretty they are.”
Chapter 23
“Hey, fella?”
Archer was crossing the lobby of the Derby when the front desk clerk called out to him. It was the same one who had initially checked him in.
“Yeah?” said Archer, coming over to him.
“You got to pay up if you want to stay here.”
This was not what Archer had been expecting. “What’s that again, mister?”
The clerk swung the register around. “You only paid for three nights. You been here way longer than that. Woulda caught it before ’cept poor Mr. Pittleman got murdered.”
“How much we talking then?” asked Archer, and the clerk told him.
Archer reached into his pocket and counted out his remaining cash, including the two half-dollars he’d gotten for loading the crates.
The clerk snatched all this up and said, “That don’t even cover what you owe. And what about going forward?”
“That’s all the money I got, brother.”
“Then I guess you’re gonna have to find other accommodations.”
“But if I don’t have any more money, how am I gonna do that?”
“Not my problem, fella. Now, go clean out your things. And, see here, I’ll be watching. You got ten minutes. Gotta get that room ready for a paying guest.”
Archer went to his room, collected his few possessions, and marched out of the lobby while the clerk watched him go every step of the way. Archer looked up and down the street and decided he had only one option. He headed over to the Courts building and waited on the steps with his hat tilted over his eyes.
“Mr. Archer?”
Archer pushed his hat back and gazed up at Ernestine Crabtree.
She had on a plain blue A-line skirt with a pleated front, a long-sleeved white blouse, puffy in the arms and tight at the wrists with a wide, open V-neck collar, and low pumps with chunky heels. Her dark hat, made of felt, was narrow brimmed with a band around it and a little bow of ivy green in front. The hair was not done in the usual tight bun. It was actually down around her shoulders, in the same style that he had complimented her on before.
“What are you doing here?”
“Coming to see you about a job.”
“You mean you need work to pay back the forty dollars?”
“I mean I got kicked out of the Derby and I’m flat broke, so yeah.”
“Come on up.”
They took the interior stairs up to her floor and he followed the woman down the hall.
Another man passed them going the other way, leered at Crabtree, and then wolf-whistled. “Woo-wee, baby. You got something I need.” Smiling, he eyed Archer. “You’re a lucky man getting that skirt all for yourself, pal.”
Archer had done this very same thing more times than he could count. But that was before he had read about Ernestine Crabtree’s terrible past. And when he glanced at her and saw first embarrassment and then resignation, he wasn’t sure which one made him angrier.
“Hey, buddy,” said Archer sharply. He dropped the things he was carrying, grabbed the man by the lapels, and slammed him up against the wall, knocking his porkpie hat off in the process.
“What’s your problem, fella?” barked the man.
“Show the lady some respect.”
“Respect? You kidding, pal? Dames love when guys do that.”
“Not this dame. Now apologize to her, right now, before I smash your damn nose in.”
Crabtree called out, “Mr. Archer, it’s all right. Let it be. Please.”
“But—”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account. Please.”
Archer slowly and reluctantly let the man go. The shaky fellow grabbed his fallen hat and rushed off down the hall.
Archer picked up his things and followed Crabtree down the hall but looked back twice at the man.
“I’m sorry about that idiot,” he said.
“Yes, well... Thank you, Mr. Archer, that was very... chivalrous.”
She opened the door and let him into the office.
“Have you had anything to eat?” she said. “Or some coffee?”
“No, ma’am, but I’m fine.”
“You sure? You look hungry.” She opened her purse and held out two dollars, but Archer put his hand up.
“I’m not taking money from you, ma’am, though I thank you. It’d be against the rules, no doubt, and I’m not gonna put you at risk for losing your job. Back there you said you didn’t want me to get into trouble. Well, I feel the same way about you. Just let me get to work and earn some on my own.”
She closed her purse and looked up at him with her wide, depthless eyes and said, “Well, I know what you said earlier, but the only thing I have where you can start work immediately is the slaughterhouse.”
“I’m in no position to be choosy, so if you could call ’em and tell ’em I’d like the job, that would be good. And how do I get out there?”
She looked at the clock on the wall. “A truck takes the men out there every day. Leaves at eight-thirty sharp right down the street from here. You’ll see them gathering.”
“Sounds fine.”
She looked at his suit. “However, I would not wear your new clothes to do that sort of work.”
He looked down. “You’re probably right about that. I got my old ones in this bag.”
“There’s a bathroom down the hall on the right.”
He changed his clothes in the bathroom and put the new ones into his bag.
When he came back to the office, Ernestine was just hanging up the phone. “It’s all settled.” She eyed his new suit in the bag. “Why don’t you leave those here? I can hang them up. You can pick them up when the truck brings you back.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Like you said, my job is to help people like you. Just come and see me after. I’ll wait for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Crabtree.”
“Well, good luck to you, Mr. Archer. At that place, you, um, you may need it.”
Archer saw the men collecting at the corner and headed over to join them. And, as he had expected, there was old Dickie Dill smack in the middle of them. He and a few other men were engaged in a game of “back alley” craps right there against the front steps of a building. Archer watched this for about a minute while the men were focused on the game and took no note of his presence.
Dill’s final roll of the dice brought a curse and an evil look from the man. Archer saw a dollar bill pass between the ex-con and another fellow.