A Gambling Man (Archer #2)(97)

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.”





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.”