One Good Deed

by David Baldacci

  A few seconds later Archer said slowly, “So your father never showed up the night he was murdered to meet at your house as was arranged?”

  She glanced up at him and held his gaze. “Not while I was there, no.”

  “That makes sense, since he later ended up dead at his place. But you did go out that night, didn’t you? When he didn’t show up?”

  “How do—”

  “It was the mud on your Nash. That meant it was driven during that hard rain.” Archer glanced at the judge. “Mr. Shaw took photos of it and wrote notes about it, so it’s included in the record.” He turned back to Jackie. “You went over to the Pittlemans’, didn’t you? Around eleven or so?”

  Jackie looked hesitant and glanced around the room. “I—” Here, she faltered.

  But right away Archer said, “You went over there to have it out with Mrs. Pittleman, about her husband, about a lot of things. Only you couldn’t see her. Isn’t that right? You two didn’t meet?” When she didn’t answer, he leaned in closer, held her gaze. “Isn’t that right? You two didn’t meet? All you need to tell us is the truth about that, Jackie. Just that.”

  One of her hands was clenched on the box’s rail. Archer put his hand over hers and gently squeezed it. Her guarded and suspicious look fell away as their gazes comingled. “Yes, that’s right. I went over there, it’s true. But I didn’t see her that night. And that is the truth.”

  He removed his hand and looked at Richmond. “No more questions, Judge. And I’d like to thank Miss Tuttle for coming back here and telling us the real deal.”

  With a questioning look, Jackie got up from the witness stand. Archer put out a hand to assist her. As their flesh touched, more was communicated between them than a physical helping hand.

  Jackie walked down the aisle with her head held high, and perhaps a lightness in her heart that had not been there for a long time.

  Chapter 50

  BROOKS PRESENTED PHYSICAL EVIDENCE of the two men’s deaths, elicited the testimony of some police officials, and methodically questioned several other witnesses with knowledge of the affairs.

  Then he called Marjorie Pittleman to the stand.

  She took her time getting there and then settled in, her gloved hands placed primly on her broad lap and her wide-brimmed, old-fashioned hat with a bird attached set at an angle on her head.

  “Mrs. Pittleman, you are the deceased’s widow?”

  “I am.”

  “And you are aware that your husband hired the defendant to collect a debt from Mr. Lucas Tuttle?”

  “I am.”

  “Was your husband happy about the defendant’s work?”

  “Not at all. He was most displeased. I could see that Mr. Archer was very worried that Hank would do something to him if he couldn’t get that car from Lucas Tuttle.”

  “Did Mr. Archer visit you on other occasions?”

  “Yes, once with Miss Tuttle and twice with that detective fellow, Shaw.”

  “Do you think Mr. Archer had a problem with your husband and Miss Tuttle’s relationship?”

  Archer stood. “Objection, that calls for speculation.”

  The judge looked at him severely. “Considering you been up here basically testifying without once putting your hand on the Bible, you can just sit down and keep quiet.” He smacked his gavel and nodded at the witness. “You go right ahead, Marjorie.”

  The woman smiled and said, “I think Mr. Archer was very fond of Jackie Tuttle. I mean, what young man wouldn’t be? You heard that they were fooling around in his hotel room right before my poor Hank was murdered. We all know what that means. And I’ve heard tell he’s been to her house early in the morning and maybe sleeping over there for all I know.” She shook her head and looked repulsed by the thought.

  “Perhaps the only thing that stood in the way of Mr. Archer being with Miss Tuttle was your husband?”

  Marjorie took out a hanky and blew her nose. “So I believe.” She glared at Archer. “But if I were her, I would watch myself. He was flirting with my maid right in front of me.”

  “My, my,” said Brooks, looking appalled. “Anything else?”

  “I can tell you that Hank came into my room one night and told me that if anything happened to him, to tell the police to look at Mr. Archer. He said he was one dangerous man. He took a gun out when Mr. Archer came over by himself the first time because he told me he was afraid for his life. You all heard that Mr. Archer had done a lot of killing overseas. And the police told me that he’d just gotten out of prison in Tartupa.” She shivered a bit. “I can’t believe I had that man in my house.”

  “I think you were quite fortunate, Miss Pittleman. No further questions.”

  Brooks retreated to his table, and Marjorie started to get up.

  “Hold on there, Mrs. Pittleman,” said Archer, coming forward. “Now I get to ask my questions of you.”

  Marjorie looked up at the judge in a bewildered fashion.

  Richmond nodded solemnly and said apologetically, “I’m afraid he’s right.” He glared at Archer. “For once.”

  Archer walked up to the witness box as she sat back down, looking very irritated. “So you think your husband was scared of me?”

  “I do.”

  “Is that why he had that nickel-plated Smith and Wesson belly gun with the hair trigger on the table when I came in?”

  “Yes!”

  “You know where that gun is now?”

  Marjorie, who had looked like she was falling asleep, appeared startled. “The gun?”

  “Yeah, where is it?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Why is that important?” Brooks protested.

  “We can come back to that,” said Archer. “Now, you knew your husband was dying of cancer, right?”

  “As I told you, I didn’t believe that.”

  This brought more gasps from the crowd, but Archer plowed on. “And that he was a gambler who owed two hundred thousand dollars to the boys in Las Vegas?”

  More gasps.

  “Yes.”

  “And that you and your husband tried to defraud the insurance company by taking out a half-million-dollar policy, even though you both knew he was dying?”

  “That has nothing to do with why we’re here,” she retorted. “And I didn’t defraud anyone, young man!”

  “And that your husband’s business bills were being unpaid and that he owed a ton of money to vendors and creditors. You knew that?”

  “Only because that detective told me so,” she snapped. “For all I know it was a load of hooey.”

  “So maybe your husband wasn’t as rich as he made himself out to be. And then neither will you be.”

  “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Is that right? Why’s that?”

  She looked imperiously at him. “I may be a woman, Mr. Archer, but I do have a head for business, though Hank didn’t think so.”

  Archer reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the sheaf of papers he’d found in the crate at the trucking warehouse. “Speaking of business, would you identify this for the court?”

  Brooks shot to his feet. “I have not seen this document, Your Honor.”

  “Oh, you will, Mr. Brooks, I promise you that,” said Archer.

  Brooks slowly sat back down as the judge eyed Archer. “Go on ahead, but this is pretty unorthodox, son.”

  “Well, not being a lawyer and all, I’m doing the best I can, Judge.”

  Archer gave the papers to Marjorie. She looked down at the document like it was a load of dung heaped in her hands.

  “Where did you get that?” she snarled.

  “That’s not important. What is important is that this is a contract between you and Lucas Tuttle. It has both your names and signatures on the last page.” Archer turned to the page and held it up for her to see. “Now, do you want to tell the court what’s in here or do you want me to do it?”

  She shook her head and remained silent.

  “Okay, n
ot to beat about the bush, you agreed to sell all of your husband’s businesses and assets to Lucas Tuttle for a half-million dollars, but you get to keep your big house and a bit of the land around it.”

  The crowd started murmuring at this and the judge did nothing to quell it. He was too busy listening to this exchange.

  Marjorie said, “So what? I had every right to do so.”

  “But on page six, paragraph H, it says that the purchase price can be reduced by any unpaid debts owed by your husband to others, personal or otherwise. Even if Mr. Tuttle didn’t have to pay these debts.” He paused. “I don’t know much about contracts and such, but that sounds unusual. Did it to you?”

  “I…I…”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Did you even have a lawyer look at this thing?”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “I’ll take that as another no. Now, when you signed this agreement, you didn’t know that your husband had all these debts, did you? Because Mr. Shaw only told you after you signed the agreement with Mr. Tuttle. Because I saw him coming out of your house with these papers before we went in to see you.”

  Marjorie merely stared stonily at him.

  “Now, I’ll take that as a yes. Mr. Shaw had all the numbers down very accurately. So when I add up what your husband owed in debts, including the gambling debts, I figure that you were due basically nothing from Mr. Tuttle for that vast empire that your husband built, while you got stuck with all the bills.” He paused and added, “I’d say Mr. Tuttle played you for the biggest sucker in the world.”

  He looked at her sitting there, seething in the witness chair.

  When he glanced up at Richmond and then over at Brooks, both men were staring openmouthed at the woman.

  “When Mr. Shaw and I came to see you and tell you about the debts, you got upset about the gambling, but not too upset. But when he told you about the unpaid business bills that were much larger, then I could see you were truly bowled over. And you glanced at the door. The same door Lucas Tuttle had probably walked out of not that long ago. See, I think you already knew about the gambling debts, but you had no idea about all the other money he owed. Now, since you didn’t understand that part of the contract I just read out, you thought with the half-million bucks from Tuttle you could pay off the Vegas boys and live happily ever after in your big house. But you couldn’t do that with the other debts, they were far too high, even if Mr. Tuttle paid you the full half-million. And then when Mr. Shaw told you about the insurance policy, you got really agitated and said you would fight it. Like you testified here, you just flat out said you didn’t believe the doctor and that would somehow make it okay for the insurance company to shell out all that dough to you. I think you were desperate at that point and were looking for anything to hang your hat on, even playing the poor old widow role and hoping that would be enough to shame the insurance company into giving you something. And you did that because it suddenly occurred to you that you needed that insurance money. And then you put the idea into Mr. Shaw’s head that maybe it was the Vegas boys who had killed your husband. It was a real good performance. I mean, you shoulda gone into the pictures, ma’am. But in the end, it didn’t fool me. I don’t go to the pictures much, but I do read a lot of detective novels.”

  Archer walked over and handed the contract to Brooks before returning to the witness box. “But that’s just money. That’s really not why we’re here. Now, when I went over to your house one time, that Manuel fellow who works for you told me something.” Archer pointed to the back of the courtroom where Manuel sat looking nervous. “I spoke with Manuel in preparing for my trial and, if need be, he’ll testify. Now, he said that Jackie Tuttle came to your house on the night Lucas Tuttle died, just as Miss Tuttle testified that she did.”

  “So what?” Marjorie said sharply.

  “Only he said she couldn’t meet with you. And in fact Miss Tuttle also testified that no meeting took place that night between you two.”

  Marjorie looked blankly at him. “Again, so?”

  “Couldn’t. That’s the word Manuel used. I wondered why. Even if you were asleep, they could always wake you up. The only way you couldn’t meet with Jackie Tuttle is if you weren’t there. And if you weren’t there, I wonder where you and that big Cadillac Coupe de Ville were on the night Lucas Tuttle died. Care to tell us?”

  Marjorie looked exceedingly put out by all of this. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m saying nothing more. Nothing more, you…you vile, disgusting criminal! I hope when they hang you, it takes you a long time to die!”

  Archer turned to Richmond. “Your Honor, I got one more witness to call.”

  “Does that mean you’re finished with Mrs. Pittleman?”

  “Oh, no, she can sit right there.”

  “But where will your next witness sit?”

  Archer slapped the rail of the witness box. “Right here.”

  Brooks rose. “And who is this witness?”

  “That would be Mr. Lucas Tuttle,” said Archer.

  A gasp went up from the courtroom and was immediately followed by the collective murmurings of speculative and excited conversation.

  “Excuse me?” bellowed Brooks, even as Richmond slammed down his fresh gavel repeatedly to quiet the crowd.

  Brooks exclaimed, “The man is dead, Mr. Archer. Unless you plan on holding some type of séance.”

  “No, sir. But just because a man’s dead doesn’t mean he can’t be heard. You just have to have the right equipment.”

  Archer turned and motioned to a uniformed sheriff sitting near the courtroom door. He rose and came forward carrying something.

  It was the wooden case with the Dictaphone. He set it on the table in front of Archer.

  “What is that?” demanded the judge.

  “Mr. Tuttle’s recording machine,” answered Archer. “From his office. It’s called a Dictaphone.”

  “How do we know it belonged to Mr. Tuttle?” demanded Brooks.

  “You know what Mr. Tuttle’s voice sounds like?” asked Archer.

  “Yes, of course. I knew him well.”

  “Well, proof’s in the pudding. So can I go ahead? See, I’m just trying to get to the truth, which I think is the whole point of why we’re here.”

  Richmond looked at Brooks, who again resignedly shrugged, but who also looked awfully curious about what Archer was planning to do.

  “All right,” said the judge grudgingly. “But fair warning. If anything on there is out of bounds, you are good as gone from my courtroom.”

  Archer carried the case up to the witness box, took the Dictaphone out, and placed it on the rail of the box while Marjorie sat there and stared fiercely at him. Then he plugged the machine in using an outlet on the floor next to the bench. He rewound the tape to a certain spot and turned to the courtroom.

  “What you’re about to hear will clear up not one, not two, but three murders.”

  He hit the button, and the first sound that could be heard was the squeak of a door opening. It was almost like listening to a radio show. Everyone in the courtroom, young and old, leaned forward to hear.

  Lucas Tuttle said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The next voice to be heard seemed to suck all the air out of the large room.

  Marjorie Pittleman bellowed, “You cheated me, you son of a bitch!”

  “I cheated you?” screamed Tuttle. “Look at that! My safe is empty. Someone stole everything in it.”

  “I don’t care about that. Malcolm Draper was working for you! He drained Hank’s businesses.”

  Tuttle laughed. “That brain tumor must have dulled old Hank’s senses. It was easy as taking candy from a baby. Not just failing to pay bills but making some singularly bad business decisions that proved costly for him. Very costly. But he was too far gone to see it. He just drank his whiskey and had my daughter on his grubby arm.”

  She shrieked, “You took all the money and left unpaid bills for
me. I had a lawyer look at that contract after I signed it. He told me because of all the debts, you’re getting Hank’s businesses for nothing!”

  “Well, then we’re even because he took my Jackie from me. And he made me take out a loan personally so he could rub my face in it. Well, look who won: I did.”

  “Your daughter is a slut, and everyone knows it. She waltzes in and becomes my husband’s concubine! That’s why I—”

  “That’s why you what?” demanded Tuttle in a mocking tone.

  “After I learned about Hank’s debts, I confronted Draper. I had figured out what was going on, you see. That detective told me about the bills not being paid. I told Draper he had to kill her or else I was going to the law. But he couldn’t even manage to do that! The idiot!”

  There was a moment of silence until Tuttle said, “Well, part of me is sad they didn’t kill her. But now that I got the slaughterhouse, I’ll do to her what I had my boys do to Sid Duckett. Did you know he tried to blackmail me when he found out Draper was working for me? Well, it cost him, all right. Hogs had a nice dinner on him,” he added gleefully.

  “You cheated me! The contract I signed is worthless! Where is it? I want you to tear it up. I’m not selling.”

  “Too late for that, Marjorie. And you should have read the fine print, it was all right there. But then again, you wouldn’t think to do that, only being a woman.”

  “You bastard!”

  “You should be thanking me. I got rid of your husband for you, didn’t I? If Hank’s gambling had kept up, those Vegas boys would have come and taken your house and more. That’s why you begged me to have him killed, wasn’t it, so you could sell out? Even though he was already dying? Because a dying man can still gamble, but a dead one can’t.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Only you didn’t know about all his other debts. That equaled a lot more than two hundred thousand dollars.” He paused. “But I’m a fair man. You get to keep the house.”

  “But I can’t afford to live there!” she wailed. “And I have no money to pay the debts!”