Дэвид Балдаччи - A Gambling Man

Archer took out the list and handed it across.

Armstrong put on a pair of delicate rimless glasses and read down the names. “Interesting.” He handed the paper back and removed the specs. “Now let me be clear, Archer. We are at a crossroads here. Bay Town has unlimited potential, but so do lots of other places. If we do not seize the moment others will. And what will we be left with? Not much.”

“What do you want me to do, Mr. Armstrong? I imagine you brought me down here to provide some instruction.”

“Follow your instincts, Archer. Do your job. Finish your investigation.”

“And if it comes back against your son-in-law?”

“I care enough about this town that it takes precedence over family.”

“After all your talk of loyalty?”

“The ultimate loyalty is to put the interests of many above your own. And that includes family. If you take away any lesson from this painful episode, let it be that.”

“The guy may be cheating on your beloved daughter. How do you respect that?”

“I have no reason to answer that, and I won’t.” He sat back, took off his hat, revealing unruly thick, white hair, and ran his hand through it. “I know you have a client already, but I will pay you as well, to follow the trail to the truth, wherever it might lie.” He put his hat on, took out his wallet, and lifted from it a wad of cash. “How much?”

“You can take that up with Willie. But I’m not sure we can have two clients for the same case.”

Armstrong put his wallet away but held out a fifty-dollar bill. “I will take it up with Willie. But take this in payment for your assorted injuries. I apologize if you are in real pain.”

Archer made no move to take the money. “I’ll wait to hear from Willie.” He glanced at Tony. “And that guy doesn’t hit hard enough to be worth fifty bucks.”

This comment earned a murderous look from Tony.

Armstrong stuck the bill in his pocket. “I like you, Archer. I’m not exactly sure why, but I do. But then my opinion is not set in stone.” His face went dark, and he stood and walked out. Tony and Hank glared at Archer for a moment, as though they were contemplating killing him and wondering what to do with the body. Finally, they followed their boss out.

Archer picked up his gun and put it back in the clip holster. He stood up slowly and stretched out his torso, gritting his teeth with the cascading pain.

He gingerly readjusted his hat, as though the weight of the fedora was too much for his injured head to bear. He wondered if his skull was fractured and when he went to bed tonight whether he would wake up in the morning.

He slowly walked out of the room and headed back up to the light of the real world and away from the rats.

But, instead, maybe he was heading right toward them.

“Jesus, Archer, did they do that to you?”

Callahan was looking at the purplish bruises on Archer’s neck and face as he slowly drained a whiskey sour and ran his tongue over his teeth to make certain they were all still there. He came away unsure.

He set the glass down on the bar. “No, I just fell off the roof of this place and landed on somebody’s fist. And then I did it three more times.”

“But why did they work you over?”

“I’m not sure I have a good answer for that. I’m not sure he did, either.”

“Armstrong, you mean?”

Archer nodded and waved to the waitress for a second round. She obliged and he sipped this one slowly.

“Does it hurt much?”

“Only when I blink.” He rubbed his side where he could feel the swelling. Tony was good, he knew just where to hit to hurt a man. He called the waitress and asked for some ice wrapped in a cloth.

The waitress said, “You don’t look so good, mister. Were you in an accident?”

“There was nothing accidental about it.”

When she brought the ice in the cloth he took turns holding it against his face and his neck and his side.

“Is that helping?” asked Callahan.

“I’ll let you know next week.”

Callahan said, “I’m not sure I want to work for a man who beats up my friend.”

“Thanks for elevating me to the status of a friend. What’s the next level after that?”

“Archer, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, sure. We’re pals, always have been, always will be.”

“You want me to massage where it hurts?”

“Don’t get carried away with all this friendship talk, Liberty. You might start getting ideas, and then I might start getting ideas, and we might end up killing each other over all those ideas.”

She pulled her stool closer and said, “I can’t believe I actually got the job.”

He gave her an incredulous glance. “That’s not how you were acting. You seemed really sure of yourself, like you were a shoo-in once Dawson saw your stuff.”

“Yeah, well, that was just talk. I do that to boost myself up. Inside, I was a wreck.”

“Good to know that about you. Maybe I do the same.”

“So do you want to head on back to town?”

“Not yet. You forgot the other reason we came here.”

“What was that?”

“To talk to Ruby Fraser.” He looked at his timepiece. “We missed her show. She might be up in her room. I know where it is, come on.”

He stood and then staggered a bit. She grabbed hold of him.

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“No, but I’m going to do it anyway because according to Sawyer Armstrong, I might not get another chance.”

“Hey, why isn’t that jerk Willie Dash out here helping you? What a bum.”

“He’s not a bum. He’s also not a well man.” He laid the ice and cloth on the table. “Now come on.”

They headed up the stairs and reached the top floor, which was empty at this hour.

“How come she has to live all the way up here?” asked Callahan.

“This is the hired-help section. According to Mabel Dawson, girls here work their way down.”

“Hey, do you think they expect me to live up here, too?”

“No, you’ll get a palace with your own bathroom at sea level, remember?”

“Oh, right. Hey, how come you know so much about negotiating contracts?”

“I knew what Ruby Fraser was making here. I doubled that amount and added fifty on top for good measure, and nicer lodgings.”

“Well, aren’t you a smart one, but then you are a college boy.”

“I studied prelaw in college. Even worked for a lawyer during the summer. Got to see the law up close and personal.”

“So you wanted to be a lawyer.”

He lit up a Lucky and blew out smoke. “I was a lawyer, of sorts. Back in Poca City.”

“What’d you do there?”

“Kept myself from being hanged.”

“That’s funny, Archer.”

“It wasn’t funny at the time.”

Archer led the way down the hall to Fraser’s door. He knocked but no one answered.

“She doesn’t seem to be here,” said Callahan, staring at the door. “Maybe she’s off doing another show. Like Dawson said, they keep performing until around two-ish.”

Archer knocked harder. “Ruby, it’s Archer. We need to talk.”

There was still no answer.

He said, “We can look for her downstairs and then ask around. Maybe she’s doing another number, like you said. But I’d like to leave a note inside her room.”

He tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and walked in.

Callahan nervously followed. “Archer, I’m not sure we should be doing this.”

“It’ll be fine.” Archer turned on a table lamp and took out his notepad and pen, only he found that in the skirmish with Hank and Tony, the point had been broken off his pen. “Check in the kitchen for something to write with. I’ll look in the bedroom.”