Dream Town

Chapter 49

Archer made the long drive out to Malibu. It wasn’t nearly as pleasant in the squat Buick. Even the Pacific didn’t look as magnificent from the dumpy car’s window. It was sunny on the mainland, but dark clouds were gathering offshore. The temperature had dropped, and though Archer wasn’t worried about snow in Southern California even in January, he wasn’t juiced about a ton of rain coming his way, either.

He drove up Las Flores and arrived at the cluster of three houses. The silver coupe was still parked at Lamb’s house. He pulled to the curb and got out. He tried the passenger door of Lamb’s car, and it opened right up. Oldham’s locksmith had apparently done his job. There couldn’t have been a body inside, or Archer would have heard. He did a quick search, but found nothing helpful. He shut the door and headed to the Bonhams’.

This time his knock was answered by a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early fifties with fine salt-and-pepper hair, and a chiseled and tanned face that held two slightly discolored patches of skin on the jaw and cheek. He had on a gray double-breasted suit with a yellow polka-dotted tie and a matching pocket square. He looked like he could take care of himself and often had to.

“Yes?” he said.

“Peter Bonham?”

“Yes?”

Archer pulled his license. “I’m working the Eleanor Lamb case.”

“What case?”

“She’s missing. A man’s body was found at her place. I spoke to your wife about it.”

“Bernadette did mention that. But I’ve been out of the country and rather busy.”

“Can I come in? I have a few questions for you. And your wife, if she’s here.”

Bonham took so long to consider this, Archer thought the man might slam the door in his face. But then he stepped aside and motioned Archer in.

Archer felt like he had entered a castle in some far-off land. The walls and floor were stone, the ceiling vaulted, the walls festooned with paintings and murals depicting starkly medieval scenes. There was even a full-size suit of dull armor silently standing guard, but not appearing too excited about it.

Bonham led him down the hall and into a large study that held much the same decorative vestiges as what he’d already seen. Dark beamed and paneled, with luxurious Oriental rugs over walnut floor planks, the place instantly made Archer feel like he was in some ancient feudal keep awaiting an audience with the resident lord. Twin axes formed an X on the wall above a sandstone fireplace and there were swords galore hung on the walls. If one were going to duel here, one wouldn’t lack for choice of weapons. A desk, a couch, and comfortable upholstered chairs were strewn around as though an afterthought to the historical renderings.

Archer thought the only things missing were the stuffed heads of vanquished beasts. And perhaps a human head or two thrown in to keep everybody honest and afraid.

He settled in a chair while Bonham took up residence behind his desk. “Not your typical Malibu beach house.”

“I don’t live on the beach, Mr. Archer. This is very much a canyon house, at least to my mind and sensibilities.”

“I take it you travel a lot?”

“Why do you say that?”

“All the things I’m seeing here. And you just said you were out of the country.”

“Right. Though I was born in America, my ancestors were French. I much prefer that world and those tastes to my native country’s. Now, you mentioned some questions?” He made a show of looking at his watch.

“I understand that you knew Lamb.”

“Who do you understand that from?”

“She was at a party you had here.”

“I have a number of parties.”

“You were seen speaking to Lamb, and it didn’t seem the discussion was pleasant.”

Bonham thought about this for a moment and then said, “Yes, I remember now, it was a property dispute. The woman felt she had more land than she did. She insisted on encroaching on my property, and I just as strongly insisted that she could not.”

“Did you know your wife and Lamb went to school together back east?”

Bonham hiked his eyebrows and fiddled with a pen on his desk. “I think I recall her mentioning it, but I couldn’t swear to it.”

“Do you know the Jade Lion in Chinatown?”

Again, Bonham fidgeted. “No, I don’t. What is it?”

“A bar and maybe some other things.”

“Why do you want to know about it?”

“It seems that Lamb had some ties to it,” replied Archer.

“So what? It’s a free country.”

“You and your wife returned separately from France?”

Bonham leaned back in his chair and studied Archer. “Yes, we did. Again, so what?”

“It seems that Lamb disappeared on New Year’s Eve, and the body was in her house around that same time. Did you see anything unusual that night? Because I know you were back in town by then.”

Bonham took his time answering. “I wasn’t here on New Year’s Eve.”

“Do you mind telling me where you were?”

“Yes, I do mind.”

“Is your wife here now?” asked Archer.

Bonham glanced toward the door. “No.”

“Do you know a man named Darren Paley?” asked Archer.

“Never heard of him.”

“Does your wife?”

Bonham drew a long breath. “No idea. She has friends whom I don’t know. And vice versa.”

“A very European arrangement.”

“If you say so,” replied Bonham. “Are we just about done?”

“Just about. What car do you drive?”

“I don’t know why it matters, but it’s a black-and-silver Bentley.” Bonham picked up the phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“What sort of work would that be?”

“Good day, Mr. Archer.”

Archer rose and left. As he was walking down the hall, he saw more than a dozen photos on a side table. He looked around to see if anyone was watching and then snagged a small one from the back, moving the others next to where it had been to close the gap. He put the framed photo in his side pocket, opened the front door, and left.

As he headed down the sidewalk he looked back to see Bonham watching him from the window. He tipped his hat and kept going.

Well, that was productive, thought Archer.

But it had nothing to do with the questions and unhelpful answers he’d received.

The man had been wearing makeup to cover the bruises on his face.

Because he’s the guy I tussled with on the beach that night and clocked with my head and fist.

And Archer had recognized something else about the man. His voice.

He’s also the guy who picked up the phone at Lamb’s house the night I called.