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.”
Chapter 16
Archer gazed in wonder at the four-door convertible Buick Roadmaster. It was thousands of pounds of metal and chrome with a grille and bumper that looked like the mouth of a saber-toothed tiger hunting for its dinner. Its interior was large enough to seat an Army platoon. Detroit knew how to make them back then.
He peered under the car to see if there was an oil slick. There wasn’t. The tires looked dry rotted, and the interior smelled like no one had been inside since Mr. Danforth had fallen dead into the flowers. He was pretty certain the thing wouldn’t even start. And since he saw a pair of car keys hanging on a hook, he took the opportunity to test his theory.
Deader than a doornail. Wouldn’t even turn over.
He left Danforth’s, got back to his car, and headed down the canyon road.
He stopped at a 76 service station, looked up the phone number, and made another call to Green and Ransome.
“Yes?” said the voice.
For one frozen moment, Archer thought it might be Eleanor Lamb.
“Who is this?”
“Who is this?” the woman countered.
Now Archer knew it wasn’t Lamb.
He explained who he was and why he was calling.
“Oh my God,” said the woman. “I can’t believe this.”
“And you are?”
“What? Oh, I’m Cecily Ransome.”
“I tried earlier but no one answered. Don’t you have a service?”
“We’re in the process of changing who we use. There’s been a gap, unfortunately, but we didn’t think it would matter over the holidays.”
“Look, will you be there for a while? I’d like to come by and ask some questions.”
“Yes, certainly. I’ll be here.”
“Have the police contacted you yet?”
“No, do you think they will?”