“No, he wouldn’t,” said Shaw surprisingly.
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to Kent last night. He was waiting at the house when we got there, of course.”
“You think he had something to do with it?” blurted out Archer.
Jackie said, “Bobby wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
Shaw held up his hand. “No, he couldn’t have killed Tuttle or driven him anywhere last night.”
“Why not?” asked Archer.
“Because he was out of town picking up a load of farm supplies. He had to get them last night or they were going to ship them back. He left around seven last night, picked up the supplies, and got back to the farm around one. He found the body and called us from the house phone a minute later. I’ve checked on his story and confirmed all of it. I got there around two, and your father had for sure been dead more than an hour. Coroner confirmed that. Kent’s not the killer.”
“But with Bobby out of town, my father would have had to drive himself here,” said Jackie.
“That’s right. Now, Miss Tuttle, you sure you don’t know anyone other than Hank Pittleman who was at odds with your father? Anyone having a grudge?”
“I’ve been gone from my father’s house for a year, Mr. Shaw. So I can’t speak to what happened after that. Now, my father could be a hard man. Even his friends would say that. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill him.”
“Would anyone profit from his death?”
“I guess I would. I’m his only child. But he only had the farm. And when I left he was having money troubles.”
“Not anymore,” said Archer. “The man had a safe full of cash and gold bars and such.”
“What!” cried out Jackie.
“Come again?” said a stunned Shaw.
Archer explained about the contents of the safe and how the wealth had come via the companies finding oil on Tuttle’s land. “They’d paid him an advance and he was expecting a lot more money from it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday, Archer?” exclaimed Jackie, looking at him with a confused expression.
“Your father asked me not to.”
“Why?” she snapped.
Archer looked deeply uncomfortable. “He... he didn’t want you coming home just because he was rich.”
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.
He checked his watch and wondered how Jackie had reacted to seeing her father’s body at the mortuary. Jackie might have broken down and cried, despite being estranged from her father.
As day grew into night, he finally decided to act. And that act would take the form of his going back to where all this had started. So at nine o’clock sharp, his legs took him in the direction of the Cat’s Meow. It was hopping at this hour, but he was able to wedge in at the bar.