A Gambling Man

by David Baldacci

  “Right.”

  “One thing Wilma Darling said does surprise me,” noted Dash.

  “Just one? Then you’re a better man than me.”

  “She said she really thought Kemper loved his wife.”

  Archer looked intrigued. “Yeah. And I believed her when she said it. And talking to the guy, well…”

  “Well what?”

  Archer said, “Some guys are genuine lotharios. And some guys want others to think they are. I believe Kemper falls into the latter group. He just tries too hard but then never seals the deal. I talked to the cocktail waitress who served us last night. It was pretty clear to me that he could’ve had her for the price of a Coke. She told me Kemper didn’t even ask her what time she got off when she came back to pick up his empty drink.”

  “And I wonder when he actually left. And what he was doing between the time he left you and then left this place.”

  “What motive would he have to kill his second lieutenant and campaign manager?” asked Archer.

  “I’m not looking purely for motives right now. I’m looking for connections. Nine times out of ten when you do that, the motives become apparent.”

  They climbed into the Delahaye and set off back to town.

  “Drop me off at my garage. I’m getting my car back today. Then I want you to go and talk to Wilma Darling and see what you can get out of her, namely, who put her up to jumping Sheen’s bones last night. Call the office when you have something.”

  “Okay. What will you be doing besides getting your car?”

  Dash said, “Putting the pieces together. Gumshoeing sort of requires that.”

  Chapter 51

  AFTER DROPPING OFF DASH, Archer drove over to Kemper’s office, but there was a sign on the door that read: “Due to unforeseen events, the office will be closed indefinitely.”

  Yeah, I guess a murder qualifies as unforeseen, to everyone except the person who killed him.

  Archer ducked into a Rexall drugstore. He got a cup of coffee at the counter and smoked a cigarette while he mulled over things. Then he climbed back into the Delahaye and motored over to Darling’s bungalow. There was a new two-door brown Ford coupe in the carport, something Archer had not noticed the night before, but it might not have been there last night.

  He went up to the front door and knocked. It took a minute but he finally heard footsteps.

  “Yes,” said Darling in a tortured voice through the wood.

  “It’s Archer.”

  “Go away.”

  “I don’t think you mean that.”

  “I damn well mean it.”

  “I need to talk to you, Wilma.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Sheen’s being murdered concerns you.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “I know you slept with him last night, Wilma. And I know he was alive when you left him. But what I need to know is who put you up to it? Because whoever did might want to clean up loose ends. If you get my meaning.”

  The door slowly opened and she stood there in a thick white cotton bathrobe that went all the way to her bare feet. Her face was makeup free, her hair was a mess, and Archer thought she was more beautiful now than she had been last night.

  “Come in,” she said curtly.

  He sat in a chair while she perched across from him. Archer saw an ashtray full of smoked cigarettes and a pitcher of something that was nearly empty.

  “You okay?” he said. “You don’t look so good.”

  “No, I’m not okay. And what the hell do you mean you knew Sheen and I—”

  “I saw you go into the room together. And I listen well at keyholes.”

  “You son of a bitch. You rotten little sneak…” She grabbed the pitcher to throw it at him, but he was too quick for the woman and snatched it away from her.

  He set it down out of her reach and said, “Calm down, Wilma. It’s my job. Sheen is dead. We need to figure this out. You have a vested interest in doing so. I know you know that.”

  She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “What I know is that this is a godawful nightmare for me.”

  “It wasn’t so good for Sheen, either.”

  She blew her nose into the hanky. “You want a drink?”

  “No, I’m good. And it’s a little early for me.”

  “Well, mix me a martini minus the olives and then think of a way out of this hell.”

  He fixed the drink, handed it to her, and sat back down. “Tell me about last night.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Who told you to sleep with Sheen?”

  “How do you know anyone did?”

  “Come on, Wilma, I’m trying to help you. I know you didn’t want to be with the guy. Someone put you up to it. Who?”

  She looked at him in misery. “I don’t know, Archer. I really don’t know who it was.” In her agitation she finished off the martini, rose, and padded around the room, lighting a Camel she plucked from the bowl.

  “How can you not know?”

  She pivoted to stare dead at him. “I’m not a whore, Archer.”

  “Wilma, no one’s saying that you are, least of all me.”

  She sat down on the arm of the chair he was in. She took another puff of her Camel, tilted her head back, and drilled the ceiling with the smoke. “I…I got an unsigned note yesterday. It was in an envelope in my mailbox. It had a thousand bucks in it and a note that told me to sleep with Sheen last night at Midnight Moods. A thousand bucks, Archer! That’s more than I make in a year working for Kemper.”

  “I think you’re underpaid, then. But why do it at all? Why not just keep the money?”

  “Because the note also said that if I took the money and didn’t do it, well, that I would regret it.”

  “So it was a threat, then?”

  “Look, I didn’t want to do it, but I also didn’t want any trouble. And I didn’t know who to give the money back to. And if I left it out on the porch or in the mailbox, and somebody else swiped it, where would that leave me? With no money and somebody out there thinking I stiffed them.” She got up and started pacing again. “So…so I did it. I phoned and arranged to meet Wilson at Midnight Moods.”

  “I saw you tackle him in the hall. I thought you were going to suffocate him with smooches.”

  She put a shaky hand over her face. “God, I can’t believe I did it…It made me sick.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She stopped and looked at him. “What you must think of me.”

  “You did it for the money because you were caught between a rock and a hard place. A guy does it, he’s smart like a fox because he’s being paid to have fun. A woman does the same thing, and she’s judged for it. I never really got that myself. I’m not judging you, Wilma. I don’t have the right.”

  She perched next to him again. “Where do they make guys like you, Archer? I’d like to buy a dozen.”

  “Did the note tell you which room to go to last night?”

  “Yes. They said it was empty, would be unlocked, and there’d be nobody to bother us.”

  “Do you know that right next door is where Ruby Fraser was found?”

  “Oh my God!” She gripped his arm. “Look, Archer, I swear that he was alive when I left him. He was asleep, sawing logs. I swear.”

  “I know he was, Wilma.”

  She looked relieved but then gazed at him suspiciously. “You gathered all that from listening at the keyhole?”

  “I trained under some of the best keyhole listeners in the business.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “I’d take you down to the police station where you could make a statement, only I don’t trust Chief Pickett.”

  “Do you really think I’m in danger?”

  “Yes. Whoever sent you the note used you to set up Sheen. But what I don’t get is how did they know he’d fall asleep? He might have left the room with you.”

  Darling looked puzzled. “When we were goin
g up to the room he was yawning.”

  Archer snapped his fingers. “Somebody slipped him a mickey. Did he say where he was before he met up with you?”

  “Yeah, he was having a drink in the bar.”

  “Did he say who with?”

  “No, he didn’t. Maybe it was Kemper. You said he was there last night, too.”

  “Other people must have seen you and Sheen together. I’m surprised the cops haven’t been to see you.”

  “They probably will be. And then what do I tell them? They’ll never believe my story. They’ll think I killed him. Shit.” She looked as miserable as anyone Archer had ever seen.

  “We’ll figure this out, Wilma. Now, there aren’t a lot of people who could come up with a thousand bucks, so that narrows the list of suspects.”

  She looked up. “But why get Wilson out of the way? What’s the big deal?”

  “He’s Kemper’s campaign manager. It might hurt his election chances.”

  “But if they really wanted to do that, why not just bump Kemper off? Then it’s guaranteed he doesn’t win.”

  “How long have you worked for Kemper?”

  “Seven years. There aren’t many office jobs for a gal around here that don’t involve fetching dry cleaning and making coffee. I started out where the other gals are now and worked my way up. It might not sound like much to you, but it means a lot to me.”

  “So who doesn’t want Kemper to be mayor?”

  “Anybody pulling for Alfred Drake, I guess.”

  “Why is he running for mayor?”

  She shrugged. “He was on the town council, so he has some experience.”

  “I’ve heard that Drake might have some serious money men behind him. Vegas types, even mobsters. You think that’s possible?”

  “Hell, Archer, in this world anything is possible.”

  Archer said, “Kemper closed the office. And it’s Friday, so you have the weekend, too. Can you go to some place where you can be safe?”

  She puffed nervously on her cigarette. “I used to drive down to Ventura and stay at a place on the water. I could go there.”

  “Then do it. Is that your brown coupe out there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, why don’t you pack and leave now? And give me the address just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “Just in case I have to come and rescue you.”

  “Archer, this is serious. Stop joking around.”

  “I’m being dead serious, Wilma. And that neat little Derringer you keep in your purse? Be sure to take it with you.”

  Chapter 52

  ARCHER’S NEXT STOP WAS THE TOWN LIBRARY. He hadn’t been to a library in a while, but whenever he had gone, it had been for a good reason. In the past, it was just about choosing a good book to read. Now, it was all about finding information that might help solve two murders.

  He spoke with the woman at the front desk. She was elderly with a granny hump, and also knowledgeable and enthusiastic. She guided Archer to a shelf and helped him find what he needed. He sat down with the books that dealt with California law and started to read. He was there for seven hours. He made notes of everything and put the items back, thanked the librarian, and left. His next stop was the town hall, which he discovered was located on Sawyer Avenue, of course.

  It was a three-story stone-and-stucco building with three faux bell towers, the ubiquitous red tile roof, and thick arched doorways. He made his way to the clerk’s office, where a dour woman in her forties turned out to be very helpful once he showed her his PI license. She actually seemed excited to be assisting in a “very private investigation.” She got him the records and ledger books that he asked for, though he had only a vague idea of what he was looking for.

  Archer sat for another hour and went through each of the items methodically, tracking things down and having, in turn, to request other files. He made copious notes and thought about what he had found. When he was done he carried everything back up to her and thanked her for her help.

  “Did you get your answers?”

  “Along with more questions, yes.”

  “Well, isn’t that always the case?”

  Archer headed to the waterfront, but he didn’t go back to the harbormaster’s shack. He went to the rental boat man instead, who Archer had found out on his first visit there was named Reggie McKenzie. He asked Archer how his ride out had been.

  “A little bumpy coming back in, but that boat was solid as a rock.”

  McKenzie smiled and pulled on the briarwood pipe clenched between his teeth. “Chris-Craft knows how to build a boat, that’s for certain. Hell, I’d take that vessel pretty much anywhere without a worry in my head.”

  Archer gazed at the water. “About three miles out I nearly ran into a chunk of rock; it wasn’t on the navigation map.”

  McKenzie shook his head, looking angry. “How many times have I said that to folks around here, eh?”

  “What’s the deal with it?”

  “Navy thing. Not many know about it because not many go out there.”

  “I got pretty close but I didn’t see anyone or anything on it.”

  “That’s right. Navy moved out about, oh, six months ago. War’s long over, what they were doing there is over, too, I imagine.”

  “I noted that there was a big dock on the island. Handle a destroyer easy.”

  “You’re right about that.” McKenzie took his pipe out and pointed the bowl out toward the sea. “There was a stretch of land that was right at the water line. Hazard to boats, I can tell you that. Had to be marked and all. Well, anyway, the Navy shipped in more dirt and rock and cement than you’d ever seen, mister. Then they built on what was out there and raised it way above the water. Solid as the land we’re standing on right now and high enough to where you don’t have to worry about flooding ’less you get a typhoon or such out there. I sat here and watched the cargo ships heading out every day. But back then the military did some extraordinary things. Heard they built that there Pentagon in less than two years.”

  “But what was the point? I thought they took over all the Channel Islands.”

  “I’ll tell you what I heard from some of the military folks coming through here.” He settled back in his seat and pulled up his oilskin coat against the brisk breeze blowing in off the water as Archer leaned back against the doorjamb. “Now, back in forty-two, I think it was, a Jap sub come right up to shore around here and opened fire with its deck gun and torpedoes. Did quite a bit of damage. Found out later another sub did the same thing off the coast of Santa Barbara near the Ellwood Oil Fields. Hit some fuel tanks and other such things. Now, nobody was killed, thank God, but it scared the hell out of everybody.” McKenzie took a moment to restuff and relight his pipe. “Anyway, it took so long for the Navy to get out there them Jap subs were long gone. See, Anacapa Island was the closest and it was still too durn far away. So the Navy got its marching orders. They searched for and found that bit of land just at the waterline barely three miles out and built what they called a ‘rapid response’ site on it. They had docks big enough for PT boats and even destroyers, like you said, and they also put radar out there and laid minefields for them subs, and had observation towers and God knows what else. They even had a runway there to land planes. And I saw them ship out a big gun, too.”

  Archer thought back to the remnants of the Mark VI railway gun and nodded. “Right. Then what happened?”

  “Well, it operated all throughout the war. Kept the Japs off the coast here, I can tell you that. Would hear guns firing out there from time to time, see the sky all light up. Took a boat out once just to see and nearly got run over by a destroyer. Last time I did that. Then, like I said, about six months ago, it all went away. Ships went out there and pretty much dismantled the whole thing. I took my boat out and watched them do some of it. Pretty interesting.”

  “Who owns it now?”

  “Now that’s a fair question, young man.” The man’s eyes d
anced with a bit of excitement. “But I will tell you that some folks have been ferrying back and forth to that spot over the last few months.”

  “What folks?”

  “Well, that I’m not sure about.” McKenzie suddenly looked perplexed.

  “What?” said Archer, who had noted the man’s change of expression.

  “Well, I hadn’t given it much thought before, but your asking made me think.”

  “Think of what?”

  “We had a mayor, a good one, name of Ben Smalls.”

  Archer tried to keep his features unreadable. “Right, I think I heard about him. Didn’t he have an accident in his house?”

  “He drowned in his bathtub, poor fellow. He was a good mayor. Nice, polite young man.”

  Keeping his voice calm, Archer said, “But what made you think of him?”

  “See, he rented a boat from me about, oh, two months ago. No, I take that back. It was my wife’s birthday, so it was six weeks ago. Anyway, he went out to that there island.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “’Cause he asked me how to get there.” McKenzie eyed Archer. “Hey, now, did you go out there the other night? Just asking, ’cause your fishing story sounded, well, fishy.”

  “Like I said, I almost ran into it. But as you know, it’s not on the map you gave me.”

  The man’s suspicious look faded. “Oh, that’s right, sure.”

  “Did Smalls say anything to you when he got back here?”

  “No, but he didn’t look happy. I remember thinking, what’s he all riled up about? Anyway, couple weeks later he’s dead and buried. Makes you think, you know.” He snapped his fingers. “We can all go just like that. Have to enjoy every day we got, yes sir.”

  “Right,” said Archer. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of this day.”

  Archer got back to the boardinghouse just in time for Callahan to confront him on the stairs.

  “Where the hell have you been? I’m going to be late.”

  “Late? For what?”

  She tapped her high heel impatiently. “It’s Friday, Archer. You were going to drive me to Midnight Moods so I can sign my contract. And then I’ve got to start rehearsals.”