Then the cadaver stopped plunking keys. To Archer’s surprise, he walked over and sat down across from Ransome. They immediately started talking in low voices.
When his waitress came by Archer said, “What’s with the piano player?”
She followed his gaze. “We don’t have a piano player. Least not anymore. Guy we had quit months ago. They don’t pay nothing and the tips are lousy. And we got the jukebox now. They just don’t want to pay to have the piano moved out of here is all.”
“So what’s with that guy?”
“He just walked in tonight and started playing.”
“And nobody thought to ask him why?”
“Hey, it’s not my problem. If the guy wants to play, what’s the big deal?”
“He a regular?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just to remind you, angel, I paid you ten dollars for a buck-fifty meal and thirty cents’ worth of coffee. Can I at least get a passable return on my investment?”
“Okay, okay, I’ve never seen him before.”
“That’s better. You know the lady?”
“She’s been in a couple of times.”
“Alone or with someone?”
“Alone. Hey, how was the sandwich?”
“Much better than the pickle.”
She blew him a kiss. “That’s what they all say, dreamy. See, I don’t make the pickles.”
A while later, Ransome leaned across the table and gave Cadaver a hug and a peck on the cheek before she left.
When the old man exited a minute later, Archer followed him out into the rain.
Chapter 21
Ransome must’ve either driven to Boleros or gotten into a cab, because Archer didn’t see her in any direction. Archer tugged up the collar on his jacket and angled his hat down farther over his face as the LA rain splattered over him.
Cadaver was up ahead and walking slowly. He didn’t seem in a hurry to get out of the inclemency, and Archer wondered why. And he also wondered what he and Ransome had been talking about. He was obviously the man she had arranged to meet during the call he’d overheard from her office. A call in which Archer’s name had been prominently mentioned. So that led him to suspect he wasn’t uselessly chasing a shadow down a one-way street. But the kiss and hug at the end had surprised him. He didn’t quite know what to make of that.
Cadaver surprised him again when he suddenly turned and walked directly up to Archer.
“You must be Mr. Archer. Name’s Sam Malloy.” He put out a pale, veined hand, which Archer shook.
“Little café around the corner. Know you already had coffee back at Boleros, but I could use one. At my age, this chill gets right in your bones. I don’t like LA this way. I only like the weather they have on the brochures. Sunny all day every day.”
Archer followed him around the corner and they got seated at a table near the back. Malloy took off his hat and set it on the chair next to him while Archer studied the man. He had tiny lines stamped all over his face. They were of such fine detail that any cartographer would have been proud to claim ownership. His face was hairless and he had no eyebrows. The eyes were a translucent blue that made his skin seem paler still. There was a discernible edge of spirited life in his manner, and intelligence in the man’s alert eyes. But Archer also saw in them pain, a bit of dread, and, finally, resignation. It was a lot to ask from a pair of eyes, he knew, but the man’s pupils somehow managed to deliver.
They ordered coffees and waited in silence for them to arrive. The rain picked up outside, and they could see people scurrying along to get out of it.
“What’s with the tux?” asked Archer when the waitress had departed after delivering their drinks.
“I like to dress up when I go out, though I don’t go out much anymore.”
“And the piano pecking?”
“Gave me a chance to watch you without you thinking I was a threat, or that I was waiting for someone like Cecily to show up. Plus, I used to be a good key plunker, although the arthritis has pretty much done me in on that score.”
“Then you played your part well, because you had me snookered.”
“You smoke?” Malloy asked Archer.
Archer nodded and drew out his pack. He offered one to Malloy, who shook his head.
“My health, what’s left of it, no longer permits. But I do enjoy seeing a man smoke. And drink, because I can no longer do that, either. What’s left in life after that, I’m not sure.”
“You got health problems?”
“Any man my age who does not have health problems is dead, Mr. Archer.”
Archer lit up and said, “Just make it Archer, Sam. Can you tell me how you knew who I was? Ransome never spotted me, I know that for sure.”
“I like to get to places early. Cecily has an eye for detail and she had told me of your distinctive car. I spotted it passing by, saw you drive around the corner and then walk to the bar.”
“Did you tell her I was there?”
“No. Cecily has enough on her mind.”
“And how do you know her?”
“She’s my grandniece.”
“Okay.”
“And I am, or rather was, with the LAPD. Started on the force longer ago than I care to remember, and worked my way up to detective before retiring. I say this with the utmost candor and pride: I was one of the honest ones. Back then we were few and far between. I could have spent my entire career arresting people who carried the same badge I did.”
Archer tapped his ash into the glass bowl on the table. “I believe that. So she called you to meet after I spoke with her.”
“And you must have overheard her conversation.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I made some calls about you, Archer. You work with Willie Dash up in Bay Town, correct?”
“Why ask, if you already know?”
“Just the old cop in me. He and you have excellent reputations.”
“Willie is as good as they come and he taught me the same. But why did Ransome phone you?”
“Isn’t it obvious? She is concerned about Eleanor Lamb. I’m the only person connected to law enforcement whom she knows. She wanted my advice.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Malloy sipped his coffee. “How long have you been around Los Angeles?”
“About three years but some days it feels like thirty.”
Malloy nodded and put his cup down. “I’ve been here my whole life, and I have yet to even begin to understand what really makes this town tick. On a superficial level, of course, the analysis is easy. Money, power, fame. In that regard it’s much like any other city. But it also has the added element of Hollywood, which makes it totally unique, with a criminal element that is dead set on exploiting those in the movie business to the utmost degree and for myriad reasons. Thus, while the disease is easy to diagnose, its mutating variations are not so easily discerned, because they change so rapidly. And that makes a cure nearly impossible.”
Archer looked bemused. “I feel like I’m back in college listening to professors pontificating. But I usually came away from those lectures wondering what the hell they actually meant, so if you’d care to simplify? It’s just a request — I can’t make you.”
Malloy rested his bony elbows on the table. “Then let’s get down to it. I spoke with some folks I know at the county sheriff’s office. And what they tell me is that the man found dead in Eleanor Lamb’s house was a private investigator named Cedric Bender, from Anaheim.”
Archer didn’t bother to feign surprise, because Malloy didn’t look like he would have believed it.