Dream Town

Chapter 15

He walked to the other house, which he now knew was Mrs. Danforth’s. It was smaller than the Bonhams’ but larger than Lamb’s, and older. There was a good-sized bay window to the left of the front door, which had a small Judas window set at eye level. He knocked, and a few moments later he saw a head appear in the glass. The door opened to the extent of the latched brass chain.

Two wide eyes peered anxiously through the gap. “Yes?”

“Name’s Archer.” He flashed his license and asked if he could come in.

“Is this about next door?” said the thin mouth below the pair of deep-set watery eyes.

“Yes it is. I’m working with the police.” Forgive me, Lord, for I have lied. “You’re Mrs. Danforth?”

“Yes, Sylvia Danforth.”

“I’d like to ask you some questions, if that’s all right.”

She undid the chain and revealed herself as small and shriveled with a silver curlicue wig, fake eyelashes, an easily discernible girdle to hold her figure the way it used to be, and enough makeup for pretty much any stage play. He thought she batted her eyes at him, but Archer couldn’t be sure; the light was tricky, and so might she be.

The woman led him into a small front room piled with two things: furniture and cats. He had no objection to the first, and none really to the second. Even when three of them wrapped themselves around his ankles and one plopped on his lap when he sat down. However, when a fifth musketeer climbed on his shoulders he did file an objection with the court and picked it off, placing it on a couch. Set across the breadth of the room on a variety of surfaces were pink seashells burned brittle by the sun, frilly hassocks, an abundance of pincushions, and framed photos with dainty, dust-catching doilies underneath. Against one wall was a prewar phonograph on a table with a stack of records beside it. A large cabinet TV was next to it.

She sat across from him, her features somber. Her thin, fragile lips trembled. “A policeman came by to ask questions. He said a man had been found dead. In dear Ellie Lamb’s home. I can’t believe it. Is she all right? He didn’t say.”

“We don’t know. We can’t find her. When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday.”

“You remember the time?” Archer asked as he plucked the lap cat off because it was starting to claw his crotch.

She tapped her thumb against her mouth. “Time, time... it’s so difficult, you know.”

Archer took out his notebook and pencil and chewed on the eraser end. “Well, let me help you out. Was it daytime or nighttime? Let’s start with that and work our way along.”

“Oh, the daytime, certainly the sun was still up.”

“How long does the sun stay up in the canyon this time of year?”

“Oh, not that long. Three or four p.m. at the most.”

“Okay, was the sun starting to go down when you saw her?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. How clever.”

“Yes, ma’am, I certainly try.”

“I think the sun was going down. Yes, it was definitely growing dark.”

“Was she walking? Driving? Did she come by to see you?”

“She drove by in her car, that little silver one.”

“You didn’t see her after that?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone else around yesterday?”

“No, the Bonhams are in France. I told the nice policeman that, too.”

“But other people live on this road.”

“Yes, but these three are the only houses around here. The others are farther down, or farther up, and they’re around long bends.”

“Okay, you ever see a dark blue four-door Ford parked across the street from Lamb’s house?”

She looked uncertain. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Do the Bonhams have a car?”

“They do, but they drove it to the airport before they flew to France.”

“When was that?”

“They left about a month ago. They like to spend time there. She’s French.”

“They fly out of LA International?”

“That’s right.” Her expression grew animated. “I went to Europe back in 1921. My husband, Oliver, and I went by ocean liner. We sailed out of New York and over to Southampton. We got dressed up and danced every night. It was very romantic.”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? I have coffee, orange juice, or scotch.”

Archer was a bit taken aback by this wide selection. “Um, I don’t know. What do you usually have?”

“Don’t let me influence you, young man. But I don’t like coffee or orange juice. On the other hand, I am partial to scotch.”

Archer glanced at a grandfather clock in the corner to check the time. “I guess a finger of scotch would be fine.”

She clapped her small hands together. “Oh good, I was hoping for a visitor today so I could open the bottle. I don’t like to drink alone, and the cats don’t count. And the nice policeman was on duty and couldn’t imbibe.”

She left and came back with two large scotches. Archer noted that his finger of liquor had transformed into a hand.

He took a sip while she seemed to prefer a long swallow.

“So, do the Bonhams just leave their place unoccupied?”

“Oh, no. They have a gardener who comes. He makes sure everything is all right. And I keep my eyes open, too. We’ve never had a bit of trouble.” She took another taste of her scotch and wiped her small mouth with a hanky plucked from her sleeve. “Until now, of course. Do you think it’s the work of gangs?”

He hiked his eyebrows at that one. “Do you have gangs up here?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at the TV. “I do watch Dragnet. They seem to have violent criminals all over.”

“Do the Bonhams have kids?”

“Oh, no. That’s why they can pick up and travel to France for months at a time.”

“What can you tell me about Eleanor Lamb?”

“She helps me with my cats and goes to the store for me. I don’t drive anymore.”

“And your husband?”

“Oliver died in 1943. He went out to water the plants and dropped dead in the flower bed.”

“I’m sorry. Do you have any family left?”

“Yes, my daughter, and my grandchildren, but they never visit. They live in Hartford. Her husband is an insurance executive. Apparently being an insurance executive requires one to live in Connecticut.”

“So, anything else on Lamb?”

“She was a writer.”

“Past tense?” said Archer.

She caught a breath and looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that. But there’s so much evil out there. You hear of a young woman missing and you assume the worst. They never did solve the Black Dahlia murder, you know. Someone cut the poor woman in half and drained all her blood.” She looked both sick and intrigued. “How demented do you have to be?”

“Pretty demented. So, did she have any visitors? Boyfriends? Lady friends? Not the Black Dahlia, Eleanor Lamb.”

“I never saw any. She lived a very quiet life.”

“She ever talk to you about any problems?”

“Like what?”

“Anything, really. I heard she stopped going into the office and was writing at home.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I also heard that she moved out here to be closer to a friend.”

Danforth looked genuinely puzzled by this. “I didn’t meet her until she moved here, and that was about two years or so ago. I don’t believe she knew the Bonhams before. She never mentioned anyone else.”

“Did she make many changes to her house?”

“Oh, yes. I went over there once while they were working. I knew the Hendersons, who lived there before. Ellie had the pool put in and the kitchen and bathrooms updated and, well, everything lightened up.”

“What can you tell me about the Bonhams?”

“Oh, Bernadette and Peter are delightful. They have another home in Paris.”

“Paris, huh? They must have some serious dough.”

“Oh, they do. Peter is very successful in business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Well, I heard that he worked overseas, sort of hush-hush. Maybe he was a spy. How thrilling that would be. Then he came back and then, oh, I guess he made money the way men usually make money.”

“And their ages?”

“Peter is over fifty. But Bernadette is only forty.”

“Second wife?”

“Oh no, it’s his first.”

“You say you don’t drive, but do you have a car?”

“Yes, it’s in the garage. It belonged to my husband. It’s a Buick Roadmaster. Oliver only had it two years before he passed. I’m old enough to remember when there were no cars. Just horses and buggies. I was originally from Oklahoma. I moved out here when I was a young girl because my mother thought the sea air would be good for her.”

“And your father?”

“That was the other reason my mother moved out here. To get away from him.”

“You mind if I have a look at the car?”

“Help yourself.”

“So, you didn’t see Lamb after around three or so? But did you see a cab or another car come up here after she got back home?”

“Oh, that’s right. I did see a taxi yesterday evening around six, one of those yellow ones. I was eating dinner on a TV tray and looking out the bay window. I went to the door to see where it was going and it turned into her driveway. She must have called for it. I assume she was going out to celebrate the New Year. I just stayed home with my cats and drank a glass of champagne at eight thirty. I can’t stay up until midnight anymore. I’m too ancient. And I’ve celebrated over eighty new years. It sort of loses its luster after that.”

Archer knew that the cab was probably taking Lamb to Chasen’s. The only question was: Had she ever come back? She hadn’t been at the Marses’ party as far as Archer knew, but he would have to confirm that. So where had she gone between Chasen’s and when he was getting his head pummeled at her house?

“And you wouldn’t have seen the cab bring her back because you were asleep?”

“If it was after eight thirty, no.”

“What time did you get up this morning?”

“Oh, around seven thirty. Slept like a baby.”

Archer rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, me too.” He rose and handed her one of his cards. “If you remember anything else you can ring me on this number. You can reverse the charges. It’s in Bay Town.”

She took the card with fingers that were trembling. “Do... do you think anything has happened to dear, sweet Ellie?”

“I wish I could answer that for you, Mrs. Danforth. I’m certainly going to try.”