Дэвид Балдаччи - A Gambling Man [calibre]

“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 going 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?”