A Gambling Man (Archer #2)(73)

“Right.”

“Okay, you called the cops. Then what?”

“I went back to the boardinghouse where I’m staying.”

“And then?”

“I went to sleep.”

“I thought you said you had a late night. Hell, when I was your age, late to me was the next morning. But you got up and came here in the afternoon? So that was what, about thirteen hours’ worth of shut-eye?”

Dash stopped talking and eyeballed him in a way that was making Archer wish he’d driven through Bay Town and kept going right into the ocean.

“Before you say anything, Archer, keep in mind that if you lie to me, and I’ll know if you are, you’re fired.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk and ended up at a diner, where I saw Mrs. Kemper.”

“What time was this?”

“Around three in the morning.”

“What was Beth Kemper doing at a diner at three a.m.?”

“Having a cup of coffee and a cigarette. She said she has a place to stay in town, had it before she was married. So I don’t think she went back up the mountain last night.”

“How did you get home? Walk?”

“She gave me a lift. Let me check my notes.” He pulled out his pad and consulted the pages, while Dash watched him with grudging approval.

“She said her old man told her about Ruby. I told her she might be a suspect, since Fraser might have been sleeping with her husband and they might assume she knew about it. But she said she had an alibi.”

“What was it?” asked Dash sharply.

“She was at dinner with friends from five to midnight. She wouldn’t tell me who with. She doesn’t know where her husband was during that time. When I went over to his office to get the list, I don’t think he was there.”

“You found Ruby’s body when exactly?”

“Ten minutes to twelve. I looked at my watch. One more thing—Ruby died from someone almost cutting her head off. But there was no blood around the body.”

“Meaning she was killed elsewhere. Did you check out her rooms?”

“There was nothing anywhere. So she was killed somewhere else and her body carried to her room. Tell me how the hell does somebody not see that.”

Dash took this all in and then focused on Archer’s facial injuries. “Who beat you up?”

“Right. Forgot about that. Armstrong’s boys did the pummeling. He was at Midnight Moods. He wanted to hire us to find out the truth behind the blackmail. I told him I’d have to take that up with you and that we already had a client paying us for pretty much the same thing. He didn’t like it that we went to talk to his daughter. He made me show him the list of suspects I got from Wilson Sheen. And maybe I said some things they didn’t like, and fists started flying and we got into it.”

“For starters, Archer, Douglas Kemper did not hire us to find the truth. I’m not sure what he did hire us to do, but I’m certain it wasn’t that.”

“Okay, but I also told Beth that her husband would be a suspect. She didn’t know if he had an alibi or not.”

“Oh, so it’s Beth now?”

“We had a cup of coffee last night. I saved her from a trio of punks. She was grateful.”

“I bet she was. Only you don’t want that kind of gratitude. And how does anyone know they have an alibi if no one knows when the woman was killed?”

“Beth said the police do. Her old man told her so.”

“Sawyer Armstrong told her when? You found the body at 11:50. You called the cops. They came while you hightailed it. You said Beth was at a dinner until midnight. Then she left, went somewhere, and then ended up in the diner at three a.m. So when did Armstrong tell her? And when and how did he find out?”

Despite the risk, Archer could not bring himself to tell Dash about seeing Kemper and her father together down near the wharf, when Sawyer Armstrong might very well have told his daughter about Ruby Fraser. “I don’t know. Maybe he phoned her. And she said he’s friends with Carl Pickett, the chief of police.”

Dash sat back and mulled over this. “That could be. Carl Pickett is as big a brown-noser as they come. But why would he give Armstrong the heads-up about Ruby?”

“He might if he knew there was a connection between Ruby and Douglas Kemper.”

Dash put out a hand. “Let me see the list Wilson Sheen gave you.”

Archer handed it across, and Dash ran his eye down the page.

“I don’t see much here, Archer. Looks to me more like a keep-us-busy list.”

“So they want to keep us busy so we won’t look where we’re really supposed to look? This is a funny town.”

“And getting funnier by the minute. Let’s take a walk.”





THE SUN WAS SHINING, and the breakers could be clearly heard. What looked to be a golden eagle soared above them with dizzying grace and power, while a black and white osprey spread its wings in another part of the sky and abruptly changed its vector to the oceanside as the bird no doubt went in search of lunch.

Dash had glued on his toupee before topping it with his hat. They walked for quite a few blocks in silence. One of Dash’s shoes became untied as they crossed Sawyer Avenue and turned down De la Guerra Street. Dash stopped and bent down to lace it back up. Cars passed them and ladies window-shopping graced them with smiles, even as a beggar rumbled through in his near rags, hat in hand, to see what he could get from the women.