A Gambling Man (Archer #2)(55)

Archer said, “The list? The one with the people’s names who might be behind the blackmail? It was supposed to be dropped off at our office, but it wasn’t.”

“Right, the list.” He opened a drawer and rummaged through it while his gaze lifted to Archer’s.

“Hard to see what you’re looking for that way,” noted Archer.

“What I’d like to know is what you’ve done so far. And where is Dash?”

“Thinking.”

“And you’re out what, running his errands?”

“Yeah, my next stop is for the sardines, crackers, and a bottle of Old Forester. You might want to come and join the party.”

Sheen slammed shut the drawer without taking anything from it.

“We’re paying your bill, Archer, so don’t play it cute with me. I have neither the time nor the interest.”

“Well, I’d like to have back the last two hours of my life, but that’s apparently wishful thinking.”

“We are busy here.”

“Yeah, I saw the map out there. So, the list?”

“What have you done since we met earlier? Give me a report.”

“Shouldn’t I be talking to your boss?”

This comment made one of Sheen’s eyes commence to twitch. “I am Mr. Kemper’s authorized representative for all things.”

“All things? That’s pretty heady stuff. If I were you, I’m not sure I’d want all that responsibility. But to answer your question, we went to see Ruby Fraser.”

Sheen sat up straight and gripped the front of his desk. “You did what?”

“She denies any affair happened, and also denies blackmailing Mr. Kemper. She could be lying, of course, and probably is.”

“But if she denies it, that’s good for us.”

“Sure, why not.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Neither did she, if you get my drift.”

“What else?” asked Sheen as he drummed his fingers on the desktop.

“We took a ride up into the foothills and saw Mrs. Kemper. Do you think she’s intense, or was it just me?”

“Are you insane? Douglas will be furious.”

“For the record, I’m not certain Mrs. Kemper shares Ruby Fraser’s opinion that Ruby Fraser is not being diddled by her hubby.”

“You are a crude man,” he snapped.

“But?”

“But nothing, you are a crude and vulgar man. What else did Beth say?”

“She knows nothing about nothing and really wasn’t interested.” Sheen nodded. “Well, that’s good then.”

“So that list?”

Sheen reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of folded paper, and handed it across to Archer.

He unfolded it and looked at the list of names. “And there it was all the time in your pocket.”

“Is there anything else?” Sheen said gruffly.

“Yeah, when do the girls out there knock off for the day? It’s getting late.”

“Why in the world do you care about that?”

“I don’t, but it looks like they don’t know, either. And they keep up that pace, they’ll be dead by morning.”

Sheen pointed to the other door. “You can leave this way.”

“No thanks. I opt for public entrances and exits at all times. I find it safer.”

Archer put the paper in his pocket and left.

He passed by Darling, who looked at him. “Good meeting?”

“The best. I might make it a habit. When do you all call it a day here?”

“When I say we do.”

“Right. Okay, look me up some time. I’m over on Porter Street. We’ll have a drink. Name’s Archer, in case you forgot.”

“Porter Street?” she said with a hiked brow.

“Yeah, it’s on the other side of Sawyer Avenue. Do a border crossing some time. We don’t bite, at least I don’t.”

“I doubt we will ever have a drink together, but I will have no trouble remembering your name.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

She smirked. “You look to be a pretty decent shot.”

“Then maybe we will have that drink together.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Aloysius. What’s yours?”

“Well, Aloysius, mine is Wilma.”

“Wilma Darling, has a ring to it.”

“Archer, quit while your head’s still above water.”

He graced the woman with a smile and a tip of his fedora, before winking at the row of platinums. He got smiles back from half. He considered that his best odds since Reno.





THIS LOOKS LIKE A NICE PLACE. Are you sure you can afford it?”

Callahan glanced around the interior of the restaurant called Burbanks. It was all brick with a drive-through portico, white-jacketed and -gloved valets, gas lanterns providing flickering light, and a parking lot full of high-dollar cars. It was after seven and the place was packed with the well-heeled of Bay Town in all their glory.

“Not to worry. Remember, I’m a workingman now.” He took out his PI license and held it out to her.