A Gambling Man

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?”

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.”

“I noted that there was a big dock on the island. Handle a destroyer easy.”

“You’re right about that.” McKenzie took his pipe out and pointed the bowl out toward the sea. “There was a stretch of land that was right at the water line. Hazard to boats, I can tell you that. Had to be marked and all. Well, anyway, the Navy shipped in more dirt and rock and cement than you’d ever seen, mister. Then they built on what was out there and raised it way above the water. Solid as the land we’re standing on right now and high enough to where you don’t have to worry about flooding ’less you get a typhoon or such out there. I sat here and watched the cargo ships heading out every day. But back then the military did some extraordinary things. Heard they built that there Pentagon in less than two years.”

“But what was the point? I thought they took over all the Channel Islands.”

“I’ll tell you what I heard from some of the military folks coming through here.” He settled back in his seat and pulled up his oilskin coat against the brisk breeze blowing in off the water as Archer leaned back against the doorjamb. “Now, back in forty-two, I think it was, a Jap sub come right up to shore around here and opened fire with its deck gun and torpedoes. Did quite a bit of damage. Found out later another sub did the same thing off the coast of Santa Barbara near the Ellwood Oil Fields. Hit some fuel tanks and other such things. Now, nobody was killed, thank God, but it scared the hell out of everybody.” McKenzie took a moment to restuff and relight his pipe. “Anyway, it took so long for the Navy to get out there them Jap subs were long gone. See, Anacapa Island was the closest and it was still too durn far away. So the Navy got its marching orders. They searched for and found that bit of land just at the waterline barely three miles out and built what they called a ‘rapid response’ site on it. They had docks big enough for PT boats and even destroyers, like you said, and they also put radar out there and laid minefields for them subs, and had observation towers and God knows what else. They even had a runway there to land planes. And I saw them ship out a big gun, too.”

Archer thought back to the remnants of the Mark VI railway gun and nodded. “Right. Then what happened?”

“Well, it operated all throughout the war. Kept the Japs off the coast here, I can tell you that. Would hear guns firing out there from time to time, see the sky all light up. Took a boat out once just to see and nearly got run over by a destroyer. Last time I did that. Then, like I said, about six months ago, it all went away. Ships went out there and pretty much dismantled the whole thing. I took my boat out and watched them do some of it. Pretty interesting.”

“Who owns it now?”

“Now that’s a fair question, young man.” The man’s eyes danced with a bit of excitement. “But I will tell you that some folks have been ferrying back and forth to that spot over the last few months.”

“What folks?”

“Well, that I’m not sure about.” McKenzie suddenly looked perplexed.

“What?” said Archer, who had noted the man’s change of expression.

“Well, I hadn’t given it much thought before, but your asking made me think.”

“Think of what?”

“We had a mayor, a good one, name of Ben Smalls.”

Archer tried to keep his features unreadable. “Right, I think I heard about him. Didn’t he have an accident in his house?”

“He drowned in his bathtub, poor fellow. He was a good mayor. Nice, polite young man.”

Keeping his voice calm, Archer said, “But what made you think of him?”

“See, he rented a boat from me about, oh, two months ago. No, I take that back. It was my wife’s birthday, so it was six weeks ago. Anyway, he went out to that there island.”

“How do you know that?”

“’Cause he asked me how to get there.” McKenzie eyed Archer. “Hey, now, did you go out there the other night? Just asking, ’cause your fishing story sounded, well, fishy.”

“Like I said, I almost ran into it. But as you know, it’s not on the map you gave me.”

The man’s suspicious look faded. “Oh, that’s right, sure.”

“Did Smalls say anything to you when he got back here?”

“No, but he didn’t look happy. I remember thinking, what’s he all riled up about? Anyway, couple weeks later he’s dead and buried. Makes you think, you know.” He snapped his fingers. “We can all go just like that. Have to enjoy every day we got, yes sir.”

“Right,” said Archer. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of this day.”

Archer got back to the boardinghouse just in time for Callahan to confront him on the stairs.

“Where the hell have you been? I’m going to be late.”

“Late? For what?”

She tapped her high heel impatiently. “It’s Friday, Archer. You were going to drive me to Midnight Moods so I can sign my contract. And then I’ve got to start rehearsals.”

“Damn, that’s right. Okay, I’m ready. You got your stuff?”

“I’ll be down in five minutes, and then you better drive like you mean it.”

“Wow, Archer, look at that!” said Callahan.

They were on the road to Midnight Moods and had come upon a billboard with her picture along with the caption, IF YOU LOVED LIBERTY BONDS, YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HER. COME SEE LIBERTY CALLAHAN’S DEBUT AT MIDNIGHT MOODS, FRIDAY AT TEN SHARP.

“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.”

“Like you said, you think Pickett is on the take. Low-hanging-fruit kind of thing, if they have him in their pocket.”

Dash nodded slowly. “That’s a good deduction, Archer. Very good. So Pickett might be at the center of this, clearing out the way for those boys to come here.”

“So their preferred candidate is Drake, the dentist. Why?”

“Maybe we need to have a talk with old Drake.”

“You know him?”

“Oh, yeah. Really smart guy, but he’s a dishrag, Archer. With about as much curb appeal as a bag of trash. Kemper would win in a landslide, if he’s allowed to keep running.”

“If Kemper drops out, could someone else enter the race?”

“Deadline was last week. It’s Kemper versus Drake, for better or worse.” He looked at his watch. “Drake will probably be home by now. So let’s go see the tooth fairy.”