Dream Town

Chapter 41

Archer had been to Vegas before to work on cases. The town was only skin deep in looks, but very serious about how it made a living. The mob had its felonious fingers in casinos, bars, lounges, prostitution rings, numbers rackets, and every other criminal and legal enterprise that made a buck off people’s weaknesses.

Archer knew that everyone from the Teamsters Union to nearby Mormon bankers had jumped aboard the Vegas train and had loaned money to put up more gambling dens. The Desert Inn, the Sahara, and the Sands had just been the latest wave, and it had forced existing casinos to up their game. Since coming here, Archer had seen the Last Frontier become the Silver Slipper, and the Eldorado transform into Binion’s Horseshoe Casino.

From the cab, he looked out at the forty-foot-tall cowboy neon sign that sat atop the Pioneer Club. Nicknamed Vegas Vic, the cowpoke could wink, light a cigarette with its dexterous mechanical hands, and blow smoke rings skyward with the same engineering. It also used to call out, “Howdy, pardner,” every fifteen minutes until enough people complained about the noise and the creepiness that Vic was now, thankfully, mute.

Once it was dark, doses of preening neon, like high-kicking stockinged legs seducing all comers, would flash on. The sign for the Sands was up on a lattice-style structure that also added the phrase, “A Place in the Sun.” Well, that’s what you get when building in a desert, thought Archer. And, perhaps symbolizing that, right across the street was just a pile of dirt.

In the spacious lobby, Bart Green’s photo and a ten spot paid over to a bellhop scored Archer the information that Bart Green was staying at the hotel.

Archer checked in, went to his room, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. On the spur of the moment, he called Dash long-distance and told him where he was and what he was planning to do.

“Okay, Archer, but Vegas can be a very dangerous place in unforeseen ways. Watch your back and your front.”

“Got it, Willie. Thanks.”

Archer found Bart Green at a poolside seating area ensconced with two ladies and a young man in a seersucker suit, the latter in deep conversation with the tubby Green. There was no one matching Simon Jacoby’s description. Bender’s reports that Green never went public with the ladies didn’t seem to apply here.

A man who could only be Little Tony was hovering near his boss. He was dressed in beige lightweight linen slacks and a brown-and-green-checked jacket. A hand-painted tie fronted his white shirt. His gaze swiveled as he kept his eyes on Green and everyone near him.

Archer sat at a poolside table, ordered a club soda, and smoked a cigarette while pretending to read a newspaper someone had left behind. The sun was starting to go down and, as the daytime temps had only reached the low sixties, Archer could sense that the evening temperatures were going to dip dramatically. The number of people around the pool was limited because of the cooler weather, and there were only two hardy souls in the water.

Green wore a Panama hat with a black band and had on a dark T-shirt under his crisp, monogrammed white shirt. His brown slacks were pleated and cuffed, and his shoes were shiny. He had a protruding belly that he seemed either proud or sick of because he kept rubbing it. He wore aviator reflector sunglasses, which was in keeping with a guy with his own plane. He had given up on the reedy mustache Archer had seen in the photo Mallory Green had provided him, and was now clean-shaven. A tall, cool drink sat next to him on a table.

The ladies were in their early twenties and dressed in matching two-piece bright blue swimsuits with open terrycloth robes that stopped right below their bottoms. One was blond, the other brunette. They were tanned and toned, and they sipped on drinks with umbrellas and looked vastly contented with their young lives so far. A bottle of suntan powder was on the table between them.

The seersucker man had a notepad and was writing things down as Green dictated. Next to him on a low table was a movie script open about halfway. Archer couldn’t hear Green’s words, but the young man was apparently taking them as seriously as Moses had with God.

The young man finally closed his notepad, picked up the script, rose, gave a comical salute to his boss, and walked away. Green said something to one of the girls and she laughed right on cue. Little Tony didn’t even crack a smile. He was staring at Archer as a potential threat, because Archer had risen and was walking directly over to them.

Little Tony barred his way while Green looked intrigued. The two girls studied Archer, giving each other a revealing look and then giggling.

“Keep moving, buddy, this is private real estate,” said Little Tony, whose voice was, counterintuitively, high-pitched and reedy. Maybe that was why he looked so pissed, thought Archer. He probably preferred going through life with his mouth shut and letting his impressive size do the talking for him.

Archer held up his license and said loudly enough for Green to hear. “Name’s Archer. I’m working with the LA County cops on a missing person’s case and a homicide.” He peered around Little Tony to eye Green. “The missing person works for you, Mr. Green. Eleanor Lamb?”

Green looked at him and said in a baritone voice that would have seemed more in keeping with the giant Tony, “Have a seat, Mr. Archer. Pick which fruit of the loin you wish to sit next to. Be careful, they both bite.”

The girls tittered on cue and began to look cute and batty-eyed.

Little Tony moved aside reluctantly.

Archer chose the brunette who let her robe fall fully open and curled her long brown legs up under her nice blue-clad bottom, where a sliver of enticing white skin peeked at him. She smiled while tugging provocatively on her straw with lips the color of cherries. She had gone overboard on the eyeliner and her eyelashes were long enough to catch flies. She looked a few seconds from jumping Archer.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Mitzi.”

“Archer, nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Gayle,” said the other. “We’re sisters.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” said Archer.

They both tittered over this until Green told them to take a hike back to their rooms and get fluffed up and decked out for dinner.

They reluctantly left, each still batting her eyes at Archer, while Little Tony just scowled.

“Little Tony, you can move a few feet away. I doubt Archer has anything dangerous planned.”

Little Tony moved exactly four feet away, Archer noted. He said to Green, “How’s Vegas? Casino treating you all right?”

“What casino treats any gambler all right?”

“I hear they tear up Sinatra’s chits so long as he keeps singing and bringing his buddies along.”

Green half lowered his sunglasses to reveal a pair of deep-set blue eyes. “They do. But I can’t sing like Sinatra.”

“I see you were working on a script.”

“Might as well. I’m writing this whole trip off to the business.” He took a long drink from his long glass. He wiped his lips with a paper napkin with the Sands logo on it and said, “Mind telling me how you knew I was here?”

“Confidential sources, but they turned out to be good ones.” Archer wasn’t about to tell him that he had used the man’s plane to get here. That might earn him a headlock and attempted drowning in the pool by Little Tony. “Lamb told me someone was trying to kill her. Then she vanished. I’ve been hired by your partner to find Lamb.”

“Cecily? Really?” Green didn’t seem to believe this. “So you’ve spoken to her?”

“I’ve spoken to a lot of people.”

“You mentioned a homicide?”

“Guy found at Lamb’s house. Somebody put a bullet in his brain. PI from Anaheim named Cedric Bender.”

Archer waited for a reaction to this. He didn’t expect the man to do what his wife had, but he was hoping for something. But he didn’t get it.

“If Ellie already had a PI why did she want to hire you?”

“I don’t think Bender was working for her.”

“Who then?”

“You’ve got no ideas on that?”

“Why should I? Sure, Ellie works for me. But we aren’t close friends.”

“So you’d have no idea why someone would want to kill her?”

Green took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She did her work — she’s a good writer — but that was it. No intrigue as far as I knew.”

“I understand she flew with you here sometimes.”

Green took another drink and set the glass down. “For someone who doesn’t know me, you sure know a lot about me. Why don’t I like that, Archer? Tell me.”

“I wouldn’t like it, either. But that’s what I was hired to do. Did she stiff the casinos on some debt? She tell Meyer Lansky to get out of her face?” added Archer, referring to one of the leading mob bosses in Vegas.

“Lansky would have no reason to even know who Ellie Lamb is.”

“So no reason why anyone here would want to see her dead, then?”

“I’m a film producer, Archer, not the mafia. You’ll have to snoop somewhere else.”

“I’m sure you want Lamb back safe and sound. She’s working on a lot of scripts for you.”

“There are a lot of writers in LA. Ross Chandler, the eager beaver kid in the seersucker you just saw? He could step into Lamb’s shoes if need be. He costs a few dollars more but so what? They’re a dime a dozen.”

“He’s a lot younger than Lamb. Why is he more expensive?”

Green gave him a “come on” look. “Lamb is a skirt, Chandler wears pants. Comprende?”

“Does that rule include Cecily Ransome?”

Green fidgeted. “No, I’m not including her. She’s got what most Hollywood hacks don’t.”

“What’s that?”

He glanced sharply up at Archer. “Depth. Now, is there anything else?”

“I saw Bernadette Bonham yesterday. You do business with her husband, Peter?”

“I do?”

“That’s what she said.”

“What does a wife know about what her husband does, Archer, I mean, really?”

“You speaking from experience?”

“No, actually, I’m not. My wife is the unfortunate exception to what otherwise is a good rule.” He paused for a moment and seemed to look right through Archer. “Why don’t you have drinks with us tonight? Nine o’clock. Right here at the Copa Room. I’ll put your name on my reservation. They put on a good show. Now, I’ve got business to attend to. Little Tony!”

The big man came over and escorted Archer away. When he turned to look back, Bart Green only had blue eyes for Archer.