A Gambling Man (Archer #2)(99)

“That must have gone up pretty recently. I was out there this morning and didn’t see it.”

She glanced at him. “And they used your idea.”

“You’re famous,” said Archer. “Just don’t forget me on the way up.”

“Don’t be silly . . . whoever you are,” she said, slapping his arm, but her gaze was riveted on the billboard. Archer cut his speed so that she had longer to look at herself. He just had to grin watching the woman gazing at her image.

They parked in front of Midnight Moods, which was fairly empty at this time of the day. Later tonight it would be a different story, with large crowds coming to see the woman sitting next to him.

On the side of the building was Callahan splashed twenty feet high.

“That wasn’t here this morning, either. They’re really giving you the star treatment.”

“Well, I’ll show them that I’m worth it.”

“So, you ready?” he said.

“I’ve been ready for a long time, Archer.”

They met with Dawson in her office, where Callahan inked her deal. Callahan showed Dawson her outfits, and the pair settled on a slick, silver sleeveless number with fringe along the short hem.

“So does your agent there get his ten percent or what?” asked Dawson.

Callahan shot Archer a surprised glance. He held up his hands and said, “I was just being a friend. I don’t want any commission.”

“Okay. We can go into rehearsals now. Later, we got a gal to do your hair and makeup. The stage manager will do your sound check and make sure the acoustics are good. I don’t know if you know, but we’re charging five dollars admission into the theater for folks to see and hear you.”

“How are sales?” asked Archer.

“We sold out,” said Dawson. “Now I hope people show up.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” said Callahan.

Dawson glanced nervously at Archer and said, “We had some more trouble last night, but I think it’ll be fine. Did you like the billboard we put up?” she added quickly, no doubt noting the puzzled look on Callahan’s features. “And the one on the building?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re terrific. I’ve never seen myself that big.”

“Where’s her room?” asked Archer.

“Follow me.”

The room was on the second floor near the end of the hall.

“What do you think?” asked Dawson.

It was a four-room flat with a full kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and a comfortable front room fully furnished.

“This looks swell,” said Callahan looking around, her eyes dancing with delight.

“It should. It’s the best we have.” She eyed Archer. “Pass your test?”

“If Liberty’s okay with it, then it’s okay by me.”

“Oh, hallelujah. Now let’s go start rehearsal, young lady.”

A few minutes later, Archer walked through the main bar area, only stopping when someone tugged on his sleeve and said, “Sit.”

He looked down and saw Willie Dash perched in an armchair and cradling a cup of coffee in one hand.

Archer sat across from him. “What are you doing here? I thought you went to get your car, and then were going to do some piecing together.”

“How long do you think it takes to pick up a car? And there is that thing in the detective business about coming back to the scene of the crime. And I am piecing things together right here in this chair. So what are you doing here?”

“I brought my friend, Liberty. She starts work here tonight.”

“She the gal plastered all over?”

“She is.”

Dash gave him a hiked eyebrow. “Well, lucky you.”

“It’s not like that between us.”

“That’s what they all say. Did you talk to Wilma Darling?”

Archer filled him in on their conversation.

“So she’s off to Ventura,” said Dash thoughtfully as he sipped his coffee.

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know, Archer. I haven’t quite got a handle on all this yet. Lot of moving parts.”

Archer hadn’t told Dash about going out to the island or his conversation with Reggie McKenzie, but he did want to run something by Dash.

“So, the only reason there’s a mayor’s election is because the former mayor died in the bathtub. Is it possible he was murdered?”

Dash eyed him severely. “Of course Ben Smalls was murdered, Archer.”

Archer sat back, a little surprised by the other man’s emphatic response. “But you didn’t do anything about it. The police apparently never concluded one way or another.”

“I’m not a cop, I’m a private dick, so what exactly could I do about it? But look at it this way—depending on who wins the election, certain things are going to happen in this town to benefit someone.”

“So you think the murders are connected to the election?”

“They’re both tied to Douglas Kemper, so I would say yes.”

“What do you think about Armstrong’s take on the mob and boys from Vegas?”

“Why would they want to come here? Like Armstrong said, they can get their hooks into Frisco and LA and Santa Barbara with the same amount of effort. And they’re all bigger prizes than Bay Town.”