Dream Town

Chapter 11

Callahan had given him a spare key earlier that night, just in case he needed to crash at her place in the future. He staggered inside and put the milk in the white Frigidaire refrigerator, then walked to his bathroom and cleaned up his head with a bottle of peroxide he found under the sink. It stung so badly he almost threw up again. He got some ice and put it on the growing bruise on his head where he’d slammed it into the man’s face. At least his hair hid much of the damage.

He stared in the mirror and saw someone looking older now than three decades. Nineteen fifty-three was not doing wonders for him so far.

In one night he had fallen over a dead body, gotten sapped, run into smugglers on the beach, and been nearly killed. Maybe he needed to run out and buy a box of rabbits’ feet to change his fortunes. But then again, he had survived it all.

So, you are one lucky son of a bitch after all.

And then he turned his mind to the murdered man at Lamb’s place. That was his case. The smugglers were somebody else’s problem.

While a small gal like Lamb might not have been able to sap him that hard, she sure could employ a couple foot-pounds of force to pull a trigger. That meant the woman was not off the hook for the killing. Was the dead guy the same one who answered the phone? It wasn’t like Archer could check his voice against the one he’d heard on the call. If not, who was he? The betting was pretty good that the Ford belonged to him since the dead could not drive off into the sunset. If so, the loved ones of Cedric Bender were in for a rude shock.

So who had sapped Archer? Whoever killed the guy? The shooter had cleaned out the man’s pockets, presumably to prevent an ID, but he’d left the man’s car across the street. How did that make sense? But if Bender was the shooter, why was his car still out there? You kill someone, you usually wanted to get away, fast.

And the big question: Where was Eleanor Lamb? Guilty or innocent? Dead or alive?

He stripped down to his skivvies, and then flapped his clothes through an open window to get out most of the sand. He hung them up in the closet and dropped into bed, closing his eyes at twenty minutes past six. He reopened them sometime later when Callahan knocked on his door.

“Archer, you in there? What’s this note about? Did you go somewhere last night?”

He sat up and groaned. He’d forgotten to toss the note.

“Don’t pay any attention to it. It’s a moot point.”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

“You decent?”

“When the hell did that ever matter to you?”

She walked in wearing a white nylon chiffon robe over a pale blue nightgown with some frill around the bodice and fluffy heelless slippers, looking as fresh and ready to go as if the late night and drinks had never happened. Sunlight was streaming in through the gaps in the venetian blinds. That only made Archer’s head throb worse.

He sat up and blinked at her.

“The best I can say is, you look like shit, Archer.”

“Well, that’s exactly how I feel, so there’s that.”

Callahan sat on the bed next to him and gaped when she saw his assortment of injuries. “What in the hell happened to your head?” she gasped.

“Will you make me some coffee if I tell you?” he said groggily. “I’ll buy you coffee and some breakfast.”

He looked at his watch. It was after twelve. “Damn, when did that happen?”

“Yeah, Archer, the little hand on the clock just keeps going round and round even when you’re getting your head busted. But I know a joint around the corner. They serve breakfast until I say so because the owner likes me. Now spill, what happened?”

“I went out to Lamb’s place in Malibu last night.”

“What! Is that where you got your head bashed?”

He told her about everything, including the phone call he made and his finding the dead man and getting sapped for his troubles, and the battle on the beach and his nearly dying there.

Callahan’s expression became more and more distraught and her hands trembled. “Oh my God, Archer, it’s a miracle you’re still breathing.”

He sat back against the pillows and didn’t reply.

“You know one day your luck is going to run out,” she warned, her expression now one of weary resignation.

“It wasn’t all luck.”

She looked at his head. “You didn’t do such a good job there. I can clean it up better and bandage it. I got some aspirin in my bathroom.”

“A half bottle should do fine.”

“And you don’t know if anything happened to Ellie?”

“Does she drive a two-door silver Chevrolet coupe?”

“Yes.”

“It was locked and I couldn’t check, so her body could be inside.”

“Oh, Jesus! You said the cops went there after you called them?”

He nodded. “I’ll shower and shave, shake the rest of the sand off my clothes, and then we can get something to eat. After that I’m going to call the LA County Sheriff’s Department. I got a friend there. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Don’t mention that you were there. They could arrest you, Archer.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. The cops really like busting PIs.” He gave her a lopsided grin, which made his head hurt even worse. “I think they’re jealous we make the big bucks.”

She smacked him lightly on the cheek. “In that case, Rockefeller, you can buy me breakfast.”