room in the Courts and Municipality Building. This included Archer, in his new suit and spit-polished shoes. His hat rested on the table in front of him. Next to that were Ernestine’s law books and some handwritten notes alongside the books.
A squirrel of a judge with rounded shoulders, a bald head encircled by gray hair, and a skinny, corrugated neck augmented by a wattle of flesh scampered out from a door behind the high bench and took his seat. He stared down imperiously over his little domain behind horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Be seated,” bellowed the bailiff.
The collection of bottoms hit the wooden seats, and Judge Theodore Richmond called the court to order in a high, reedy voice. He looked down at a paper in front of him and said, “Mr. Aloysius Archer, you are on trial for the murders of Mr. Hank Pittleman and Mr. Lucas Tuttle. And you are representing yourself, is that correct?”
Archer stood. “That’s correct, Judge.”
The judge eyed him severely. “Just so you know, it is highly unusual for a man to be defending himself against murder charges.”
“Well, Judge, me and the lawyer they sent didn’t see eye to eye. He thought a life sentence was a good deal. And I couldn’t afford anybody else.”
“Considering the alternative, he might well be right about that life sentence.” He turned to the DA. “Mr. Brooks, you ready to go on your end?”
Brooks, resplendent in a blue three-piece pinstriped suit and dark red tie, with cufflinks on his starched shirt and his hair combed precisely so, rose and cleared his throat. In an impressive baritone he said, “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Defendant?” said the judge, giving Archer a patronizing look.
“Uh, the defense is ready, Judge,” said Archer, half rising from his seat. As he looked at the stack of law books next to him, he suddenly reached out and tapped the volume on top.
If good fortune is ever going to shine on me, let it be now.
After legal proceeding preliminaries were dispensed with, Judge Richmond said, “Call your first witness, Mr. Brooks.”
Brooks called a series of people to help lay out the state’s case. Archer declined to cross-examine any of them.
The judge finally looked over at him. “Mr. Archer, just checking to see if maybe you’ve fallen asleep over there.”
The crowd tittered at this.
“No, Judge, just biding my time,” replied Archer.
“Well, don’t wait too long. You might find your ‘time’ has run out, son.”
Finally, Archer perked up when Brooks said, “The state calls Miss Jacqueline Tuttle.”
Archer turned to see Jackie Tuttle rise from the back row and head to the witness box set directly next to the bench. She was dressed in a modest dark blue dress, low heels, black stockings, a matching turban with a little veil attached, and a string of fake pearls around her neck. She was sworn in by the bailiff and took her seat. Jackie took a moment to lift her veil and fix it to a hook on the turban.
Brooks approached. “You are Jacqueline Tuttle, the daughter and only child of Lucas Tuttle?”
“I am.”
“Do you know the defendant, Aloysius Archer?”
Jackie gave a searching look at Archer. He stared back at her, impassively.
“I do.”
“What can you tell us about the events that led up to the death of your father?”
“I was there when Mr. Hank Pittleman, who was a friend of mine, employed Mr. Archer to collect a debt owed by my father. Mr. Pittleman was going to pay him one hundred dollars when the debt was paid, but Mr. Archer asked for and received a forty-dollar advance.”
“Why was that?”
“He said he might have some expenses in collecting the debt and needed some money up front. I thought it made sense, actually.”
“And did he use some of the money?”
Jackie hesitated.
“Miss Tuttle, did he use some of the money?” Brooks asked again.
“He bought himself some new clothes.”
Brooks held up a piece of paper. “New clothes that we have determined cost about thirty-five dollars.”
“He looked good in them.”
“And did the time come when Mr. Archer sought to collect this debt?”
“Yes. He told me that he’d had a good first meeting with my father and that he intended to keep working away at it.”
“Was he successful?”
“At first, no.”
“Can you walk us through that, please?”
“Hank wanted Mr. Archer to take back a Cadillac that my father owned and that he had assigned as collateral for the loan.”
“Did Mr. Archer secure this collateral?”
“No, he later told me that my father had burned it up.”