A Gambling Man

by David Baldacci

  “Yes, that’s right. I do deal with Mr. Sheen more.”

  She pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and he lit one for her. Her hand trembled. She took a puff and said, “Why were you meeting with him?”

  “Something to do with Kemper’s campaign. We’re helping him out.”

  She said derisively, “If he can’t beat a damn dentist, he doesn’t deserve the job.”

  “Right. So you come here often?”

  “Once or maybe twice a week. For a drink, like I said.”

  “You ever run across a gal named Ruby Fraser?”

  “Was she the one who was killed here? I read about it in the paper.”

  “She was. So, did you know her?”

  She tapped her ash into the ashtray a little too hard. It was like a toddler banging his toy against the wall right before she went truly berserk.

  “No, no I didn’t.”

  “I spoke with Kemper earlier. He was here. We sat at this very table.”

  Her eyes opened wider with interest. “Really? What did you talk about?”

  “Just business. He said Wilson Sheen was here, too. Have you seen him? I think I spotted him a while ago. I wanted to talk to him as well.”

  “Mr. Sheen? No, no, I haven’t seen him. If he was here, he might have left. I find he…tires easily.”

  Archer observed she had to struggle to keep the smile off her face. Finally she looked away from him and drank her gin and tonic nearly to the bottom of the glass.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. So how’s business?”

  “We’re very busy. Mr. Kemper has his fingers in lots of pies.”

  “Do you know his wife?”

  “I’ve seen her.”

  “She’s quite beautiful.”

  “You know, Archer, the gal you’re with is the one you should be complimenting.”

  He grinned. “Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re quite the looker.”

  “That’s better. And I do need you to tell me.”

  “Okay, you’re quite the looker. You stood out from the other gals in the office like a flamingo in the desert.”

  “First time I’ve been compared to a flamingo, but I’ll take it. Even though those gals are younger than me, Archer?”

  “Even though.”

  She looked over his shoulder and her gaze caught on something.

  When Archer turned to look, all he saw was a waitress setting down a shrimp cocktail in front of an old man with a gal half his age on his lap.

  “You know them?” asked Archer.

  “He’s a client of Mr. Kemper. Owns some property Kemper is trying to develop. His wife wouldn’t like what he’s doing right now.”

  “I guess not.”

  “So why do you want to talk to Sheen?”

  “Part of the investigation. After this drink, I’m going to try to find him. He must be around here somewhere. I’ll roust him.”

  She ran her eye up and down him to such an invasive degree that Archer felt his own cheeks start to burn.

  “Why don’t we blow this joint, Archer? My place is only twenty minutes from here.”

  “But what about Sheen?”

  “Come by the office tomorrow. You can talk to him then. He’s there every day, and this time I won’t make you wait.”

  “So what are we going to do at your place?”

  She gave him a look that raised one distinct possibility. “If I can’t think of something and you can’t think of something, then something is very wrong, mister.”

  “I’ve got a car.”

  “Good, because I don’t.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions along the way?”

  “Not so long as we get to where we’re really going at the end.”

  Chapter 49

  THIS IS YOUR CAR? REALLY?” she said as the valet brought it up.

  Archer flipped the kid a quarter and held the door for her. “Yeah it is.”

  “Shouldn’t I be getting in the other side?”

  “The Brits do it differently from us,” he replied.

  “So this is a British car?”

  “No, it’s actually French, but it’s a long story and not that exciting.”

  “Come on, where’d you get this ride?”

  “Won it in a poker game back in Reno.”

  “Wow, you must be really good,” she said. “Maybe I’ll find out.”

  He smiled at her. “You know, you have a whole other persona at work.”

  “At work, everyone has to be someone they’re not. I’m no exception. And I’m a gal who likes to have fun in her off-hours. All work and no play makes poor Wilma very dull indeed.”

  “Okay.”

  “So what questions do you have?”

  “You ever see Kemper when you’re at Midnight Moods? I understand that he’s a regular.”

  “I see him sometimes. He plays cards. They only let men in there.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. How come?”

  “They don’t want to lose to women, that’s how come.”

  “You ever see him with Ruby Fraser?”

  “How should I know? I don’t know what she looks like.”

  Archer described the woman for her.

  “Well, that sounds like half the women who work there,” she noted.

  “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  “Why are you interested in her and Mr. Kemper?”

  “Part of the business I’m doing with him.”

  “You think he was messing around with her? He’s a married man.”

  “He ever mess with you?”

  She shook her head. “To tell you the truth, Archer, I think he’s in love with his wife.”

  “You’re the first one to say that, and that includes him and his wife.”

  “Some of the gals at work have given it their best shot with the man, and came away with zip for their troubles.”

  “What about Sheen?”

  “What about him?”

  “You or the other girls ever make a run at him?”

  “Maybe some of the other gals, but I don’t like to bake, Archer.”

  “What does that mean?” he said with a puzzled expression.

  “I don’t enjoy sticking my fingers in dough.” She let out a throaty laugh that was so spontaneous and unexpected that Archer couldn’t help but join her.

  “Hey,” she said. “You look like a man who carries a pocket flask, and I need a drink.”

  He pulled it out and handed it across. She took a long sip and screwed the top back on before handing it back to him.

  She directed him to her place, a one-story bungalow on the fringes of Bay Town in a quiet tree-lined neighborhood of like abodes. Like much of Bay Town, it smacked of Spanish influence, with stucco walls, wrought iron railings that were starting to rust from the salt air and stain the stucco, and a peaked terra-cotta tile roof. The front door was dark oak with black, strappy metal adornments.

  She slid the key in and Archer followed her inside.

  “Nice place,” he said, looking around at the comfortable and plush furnishings, the colorful Oriental rug, the full mahogany bar set against one wall, with crystal glasses set on top and neat rows of bottles, along with a cocktail shaker and jigger set that looked well used.

  She put her hat and purse on the coffee table and spun around to look at him, her fingers playing over the belt around her waist.

  “I’m going to freshen up, help yourself to a drink. I’ve got cigarettes in that bowl over there.”

  “Thanks. What can I have ready for you?”

  “Oh, we’ll think of something when I get back.”

  She departed the room and a minute later he heard the shower start.

  Part of Archer wanted to just walk out the door. He was investigating a case that had to do with the man Darling was working for. He had observed her having sex with that man’s associate for reasons Archer did not yet know. Professionally, he told himself, it was better that he just walk away now.


  But he didn’t. Because he wanted to find out why she’d slept with the man. At least Archer told himself that was the only reason.

  He poured himself a bourbon neat, lit up a cigarette, and walked around the room. He eyed Darling’s purse and took a few moments to examine the contents. He was really getting into this shamus thing. There was a money clip with twenty bucks’ worth of mad money, the pack of Pall Malls, a small pewter hip flask about half full, a lighter with a D engraved on it, and several ivory boxes that were empty. And a nickel-plated .22 Derringer with oak grips. It was loaded with four bullets and hadn’t been recently fired, if Archer’s sense of smell was any indicator.

  He heard the shower stop and he put the items back in the purse and placed it exactly where it had been before. He moved over to the window, where there was a single streetlamp burning brightly but trying and failing to break through the marine fog rolling in. This place reminded Archer of London. Some days you could barely see a foot in front of you.

  He was still standing there looking out when she came back into the room.

  Darling had on a robe that was even more transparent than Archer’s thoughts at the moment. Barefoot, she approached, a lioness to the lion, and it was not up for debate which would prevail.

  “You freshen up better than anyone I know,” he began.

  She took his drink from him and set it down. She pulled his cigarette from his lips and took a long drag on it before bending down and tapping it out in the ashtray.

  “You don’t like to beat around the bush, I take it,” he said.

  “Life’s short, so I don’t have time to waste.”

  “You’re young.”

  “We’re all young, Archer, right up to the minute we’re just a picture on the wall for someone to remember.”

  She put her arms around him and pressed both her body and her lips against his.

  “As soon as I saw you at the office, Archer, I started having thoughts about you.” She pulled away for a moment, looking at him. “You seem like you’d be good to a woman.”

  “I try to be good to everyone.”

  “You gonna kiss me back, or do I have to place an order for delivery?”

  “You know, I am investigating a case.”

  “Investigate me, as much as you want.”

  “We probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

  She kissed him so hard he tasted both the gin and the Lucky. It was an earthy combo. She took his hand and led him out of the room and into her bedroom, and there didn’t seem to be a thing Archer could do about it.

  Darling let the robe fall to the floor. Though he had seen her naked with Sheen, the woman’s figure still left him breathless, particularly this close up. And there went any possibility of his walking out on her. What had Kemper said?

  I’m a man, Archer. I’m not saying I’m any better than I am in that regard.

  God help me, thought Archer.

  She helped him undress and they slid into bed together.

  After that it was a frantic twenty minutes of copulation that Archer wasn’t even sure he could understand, much less rationalize. He wasn’t one to jump into bed with a woman he barely knew, although this wasn’t the first time he had done it. But Darling took control from the very start and never relinquished it. He was no babe when it came to sex, but the lady was clearly a few levels above him in that department. Archer felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck, in the best possible sense, even as her nails gouged his back and slid all the way down to his butt.

  Later, they lay together on top of the sheet, soaked in each other’s sweat.

  Her lungs heaving and her body still twitching she stroked his chest and panted, “Good God, Archer. How long since you’ve been with a woman anyway, mister?”

  “Too long, apparently. And just for the record, you threw in a few moves that were new to me.”

  “See, that’s what you get for going to bed with a ‘mature’ woman.”

  “Yeah. A mature wildcat, more like.”

  She sat up and played with his chest hairs while giving him a heavy-lidded once-over. “If I let you stay the night, you think you might be up for a repeat performance before breakfast? They say exercise helps the appetite. And I make a killer cup of joe.”

  “I like coffee. A lot.”

  She smacked him playfully on the cheek and then French kissed him. She pulled her lips away and breathed in his ear, “Mine’s good to the very last drop, sweetie.”

  They slept heavily, and when they woke early the following morning Darling slid on top of him and they went for round two. After that they slept for another hour, and she made him a cup of coffee and two fried eggs with toast.

  He showered, and when he got out he found her pressing his clothes while stark naked. He dressed and was giving her a kiss, his hand around her bare waist and thinking about maybe going back to bed for extra innings, when her phone rang.

  And everything in the world changed.

  Chapter 50

  ARCHER AND DASH WERE IN THE DELAHAYE on the way to Midnight Moods. He had called Dash from Darling’s bungalow and filled him in on the call Darling had gotten earlier that morning. Then he had driven over to the office.

  Dash said, “Who found the body?”

  “Douglas Kemper told Wilma Darling that a maid found Wilson Sheen dead in a room at Midnight Moods.”

  “Which room?”

  “If I had to guess, it would be the one next to Fraser’s.”

  “If you had to guess?”

  “Let me fill you in.”

  Archer told Dash everything about the night before, including meeting with Kemper and learning about Beth’s apartment in town, and seeing Sheen and Darling together in bed.

  “And in the crawlspace in the ceiling I found some bloodstains.”

  “So that’s how they moved her body,” said Dash thoughtfully. “From that room, through the attic access, and into Fraser’s room. How the hell did the coppers not see that possibility? How did I not see it? I must be getting blind in my old age.”

  “Well, I didn’t see it either the first time around. And who would think to move a dead body through the attic?”

  “Well, the room where Fraser was killed probably has another body in it. Did Kemper say how Sheen was killed?”

  “No.”

  “And you were with Wilma Darling when Kemper called?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she say how he sounded?”

  “‘Frantic’ was the word she used. You think Pickett will be out for this one, too?”

  “Carl can’t find his teeth before nine o’clock.”

  They arrived at Midnight Moods to find prowlers everywhere along with the coroner’s wagon. Ernie Prettyman was standing outside of the room where Sheen had been found.

  “How’d you hear so fast, Willie?” asked a surprised Prettyman. “I’ve only been here an hour myself.”

  “Friend of a friend,” replied Dash. “Can we see the body?”

  Prettyman led them into the room where Wilson Sheen lay on his stomach with a sheet partially covering him.

  “How’d he die?” asked Dash.

  Prettyman lifted the sheet, revealing a wide, bloody wound in the middle of the back. “Knife to the heart. Quick, silent, and efficient.”

  “Was he here alone?” asked Dash.

  “It was clear that he had been with…someone.”

  “A woman, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  Dash said, “Archer found the way that they shifted Fraser’s body from here to there.”

  Archer led the way next door to Fraser’s room and showed Prettyman the ceiling access door.

  “It runs over to the next room where Sheen was killed. I found bloodstains up there that might be Fraser’s. Her room is the last on the corridor, so that’s the only room that’s next to hers.”

  Prettyman looked at the door and then at Dash and then at Archer. “You found this last night?”

  “Yes.”

/>   “What time?”

  “Around ten.”

  “Coroner thinks Sheen bought it around eleven.” Prettyman glanced at Dash and then eyed Archer. “So it’s interesting that you were here around that time, right next door. And more than that, in the space over where the murder took place.”

  Dash said, “Okay, Ern, you got every right to ask questions and put the screws to Archer because he was here around the time in question. But he’s got no motive to kill Sheen. We were working for his boss.”

  “Motives are funny things, Willie. They can turn on a dime if you look at things at a different angle.” He paused. “I’m sure you remember telling me that.”

  “I do. And you’re right. But Archer won’t be leaving town. I give you my word on that. So he’ll be around to answer any other questions you might have. But just to add my two cents, the guy who killed Sheen is not in this room right now.”

  Ern nodded slowly. “Okay, but I have to do my job.”

  “Yes you do.” Dash glanced at Archer before saying, “Has this room been assigned to anyone here either now or in recent history?”

  “Mabel Dawson said the last occupant was a vaudeville performer named Guy Parnell. But he left about a week ago. No one’s been in there since.” Prettyman glanced at Archer. “So you didn’t see or hear anyone while you were poking around up there?”

  “Ern, come on, what do you think?” said Dash, drawing a look from Archer, who was careful to avoid Prettyman’s eye. “Now, we need to find the connection between Fraser and Sheen.”

  “If there is one,” said Prettyman.

  “We’ve both been doing this a long time. Two stiffs coming from the same room? There’s a connection, all right.”

  “Any chance of your telling me who your client is now?”

  “About the same odds as yesterday. Look, me and Archer have to get going. Things are rolling fast now, and I don’t like playing catch-up.”

  “Okay, but remember, Archer doesn’t leave town.”

  Dash and Archer made their way quickly down the steps and outside.

  “What was the deal back there?” said Archer. “You pretty much lied to the police.”

  “This line of work requires balance, Archer. And if you look at what I said, you’ll find that I threaded that needle as well as it could be. Ern is a good guy but he’s by the book, meaning whatever we tell him goes straight to Carl Pickett’s ear. And right now, I don’t want Carl knowing what we know.”