Dream Town

Chapter 31

They crossed the road and walked along the beach where the sand was hard packed. The sun was high overhead, making it warm for January, and the tide was hovering in roughly neutral right now. However, even the distant breakers would cover any conversation they would have, Archer knew, which was probably why Mincer had headed over here, which meant the man wasn’t all stupid.

“The mortgage?” asked Archer.

“There isn’t one.”

Archer’s jaw went slack. “I know she makes good money with her job, but that house must have cost ten times what she pulls in during the course of a year.”

“Maybe more than that with all the improvements she made.”

“You sound like you know more about it than you let on back there.”

“Let me see your cash.”

“Okay, but keep in mind, pal, I’m a gumshoe, not a Rockefeller.”

“Would you go a grand?”

Archer’s jaw went even slacker. “Oh, sure, if Lamb walks safely out of the ocean over there the second the green hits your palm.”

“How about a C-note then? I’m taking a big risk here, buddy.”

“There’s risk in getting out of bed every day. I tell you what, let me hear it first. Then I’ll judge if it’s worth the C or not.”

Mincer stopped walking and puffed feverishly on his cigar. “Do I look like a monkey’s uncle, pal? I’m a branch manager, for crying out loud.” He held up a foot. “I’m wearing goddamn Florsheims.”

“Okay, let’s say fifty. I pay you half on your promise of having the goods, and the other half when you’re done. That work for you?”

“I guess.”

“That is not what I wanted to hear.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, it works.”

Archer passed him the money.

They started walking again.

“Lamb moved out here, oh, about two years ago. That’s when she opened her account with us. She said she was buying the old Henderson place. We did have a mortgage on that. So I asked her if she wanted us to loan her the necessary funds to buy the property and fix it up, because she told me what she wanted to do with it. We had the survey and title on file and all, we’d just have to update it. All she needed was a male cosigner.”

“Come again?” said Archer sharply.

“An unmarried woman can’t get a mortgage without a suitable man signing with her,” said Mincer. “Didn’t you know that, pal?”

“No I didn’t. Why won’t banks make loans to single women?”

“Don’t be stupid. Banks need a guy on board to feel secure. And it’s for the ladies’ protection, too. Dames are clueless about money and such. They won’t get taken for a ride with a sharp guy around. Turns out it didn’t matter with Lamb. She told me she was paying cash for the property, and the renovations she planned. So she didn’t need a mortgage. And I guess there’s no law against a dame buying a house with her own cash, though there probably should be. Like I said, women have no head when it comes to money and business. My dumb wife doesn’t know the difference between a passbook account and Passover.”

“How much cash are we actually talking about here?”

Mincer gave him a meaningful look. “A total of seventy-two thousand, five hundred clams.”

Archer whistled because how could a man not when hearing that sum. “And how do you know that exactly?”

“I know the Realtor who did the sale. He sold me my house. And the contractor who did all the work is my brother-in-law. They told me.”

“It’s nice to be talking to a guy so in the know. And she had that all in cash. Did she say where it came from?”

“No, and I had no legitimate right to ask. But I was damn curious.”

“Is there any way you can tell me what her balance is at your bank?”

Archer had seen from the woman’s check register that her checking account had about fifteen hundred dollars in it.

“She has savings and checking accounts. Without getting specific, I can tell you that it was nothing close to what she put into that house.”

“So maybe she keeps it under her mattress?”

Mincer took a puff of his cigar. “Hell, I figured maybe she was an heiress or something, or had a rich guy on the side, but she didn’t seem the type. I mean, she was no looker, for Chrissake. For a guy to pony up that kind of dough, you’d have to look like that Swede, Anita Ekberg. I mean, sweet Jesus. You seen the rack on that gal?”

“Not today I haven’t. Did Lamb ever mention moving out here because she had a friend who already lived here?”

Mincer tapped ash into the sand, while Archer studied the ocean as it began to creep closer to them, like a predator in the high grass.

“I remember during our first meeting I asked her how come she was moving to Malibu. I mean, sure, a lot of people are buying out this way, but they’re either famous or rich or both. Anyway, she said someone had recommended the place to her and then she’d found out that someone she knew from way back had a place out here. She wanted to rekindle the relationship.”

“Did she mention a name?”

Mincer dropped the cigar onto the beach, using his shoe to cover it with sand. “No.”

“Man, woman?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I could have asked, but I didn’t really care. She was just opening an account. And I wouldn’t be selling her a mortgage, so there goes that commission. And it wasn’t like I was going to date her or anything.”

“And you are married,” said Archer, eyeing his wedding band.

Mincer grinned and gave Archer a wink. “When did that ever stop a guy in heat? And my missus is actually old enough to be my wife. So, a body up there, you said. Know who it is?”

“Not yet,” Archer lied. “It’s a guy.”

“And you said Lamb is missing?”

Archer nodded. “Whether by her choice or not, I don’t know.”

“Damn. So anyway, where’s the rest of my money?”

Archer reluctantly placed the bills in the man’s palm along with his card. “Anything else occurs to you, ring that number and you can leave a message.”

“Okay, but just so you know, mac, it’ll cost you more.”

Archer tipped his hat before turning away. “Boy, I didn’t see that coming.”