Archer had to smile at that one. “Anyone else with a problem?” he asked Lamb.
She shook her head but wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Archer studied her closely and came away certain that she was holding something back. “So are you going to go to the cops?”
“Can’t you help me?” she said in a pleading tone.
“I’m fifty a day plus expenses.”
“That’s not cheap.”
“Well, I don’t get all of it. I work for another guy. And it’s not like I work and get paid that much every day. I probably make less in a year than you spend on clothes. And most jobs don’t come with the possibility of getting shot or your neck broken.”
“Okay, I guess I can see that.”
“And I don’t live in LA. I usually rent a room at the Y to keep costs down. And there’ll be a contract for you to sign. I have some in my car.”
“Heck, Archer, you can stay with me for free,” said Callahan. “I have a spare bedroom now.” She gave him a friendly look that did not raise any possibilities other than sleep.
“I do like to get a $200 retainer up front. If I don’t work through it all, you’ll get the balance back.”
“I don’t have my checkbook with me. We’d have to go to my house.”
“Where do you live?”
“In a canyon in Malibu. Las Flores.”
Archer said, “That’s where the Sea Lion Restaurant is. Used to be the Las Flores Inn.”
She eyed him with what Archer regarded as unease. “You know Malibu?”
“Bad things happen in Malibu, too, you know.”
She looked at them nervously. “But Las Flores is a hike from here and you two are out on the town tonight. How about you come by my office tomorrow?”
“Where’s your office?”
“Off Wilshire near San Vicente.”
“Okay. Just write your home and office address down. I can get the check and have you sign the contract. And then we can head out to your house. Whoever is doing this obviously knows where you live.”
Lamb took out a piece of paper and pen from her clutch purse and wrote down the address of her office and also that of her house and passed it to Archer.
He glanced at it. “How do you like living in Malibu?”
“It was fine until all of this started up.”
“You’re near the Malibu Movie Colony. See a lot of stars out?”
“None that I can’t see in town,” she answered with pursed lips that puzzled Archer. He could understand her being gassed out on the celebrities of the day, but in his limited experience the movie business was built on relationships.
“Okay, what about your neighbors?”
“There’s one on either side of me. The Bonhams are currently in France. The other neighbor is Sylvia Danforth. She’s eighty, widowed, and lives with her cats.”
“So it’s doubtful the threats are coming from them?”
“Yes, very doubtful.”
“But what about the Bonhams? Anyone staying at their place while they’re away?”
Lamb glanced guiltily at Callahan. “Look, it’s New Year’s Eve, and you’re here to have a nice dinner. Come to the office around ten.”
“Not taking the day off then?” said Archer.
“For me, tomorrow is just another day. It’ll be quiet. I can get some actual work done.” She gave Callahan a peck on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd.
Callahan watched her go and then glanced at Archer. “So?”
“So what?”
“What do you think?”
He shrugged and lit up a cigarette. “I don’t think anything. Not yet. What do you know about her?”
“She’s from back east. Went to college there. Boston. She’s smart, well-read.”
“I thought I caught a bit of Yankee Doodle Dandy underneath the LA grease coating.”
“It does bother me that I didn’t know about her working with Mars on the Davis film.”
“Why would you know? And why would that bother you?”
“If you don’t know what’s going on in this town, you can’t take advantage of opportunities. I’d love to work with Davis. She’d eat me alive in every scene, but I could still make a splash, and the movie will be big news because she’s in it. And I could learn a lot.”
“How about Lamb personally? She seems a little high-strung to me. Is she prone to hysterics? She’s a writer, so her imagination must be good. Could she be making all this up?”
“No. She does her job and minds her own business.”
“Well, from what the lady said, she stopped curling and dyeing her hair blond and went back to her natural brunette with hair straighter than my spine. I wonder why.”
“She told you why. And she’s right, this town has too many damn blondes. The next time you see me, I might have pulled a Maureen O’Hara and all you’ll see is red.”
“Do you know Green or Ransome?”
“I’ve certainly heard of Bart Green. He’s done a lot, knows everybody, like Ellie said. I don’t know Cecily Ransome, though I’d like to.”
“Why?”
“She’s the change this town needs, Archer. Ransome is making pictures that are gritty, honest, and bone deep. I’d love to work with her.”
“If I meet her I’ll put in a good word. You ever been to Lamb’s house?”
“She had a one-bedroom in West Hollywood when I first met her.”
“So the move to Malibu was fairly recent, then?”
“I guess within the last two years or so. Is that important?”
“Malibu isn’t cheap, and most working writers like to be nearer the action. She’s not an heiress or anything, is she?”
“Not that she mentioned. And she never acted like she was in the money.”
Archer finished his smoke and killed it off in the ashtray. “Let’s eat.”
But his mind was now clearly elsewhere.
Chapter 5
Archer next drove them to Wilshire Boulevard and through the gates of the Ambassador Hotel, a twelve-hundred-room extravaganza set on over twenty acres with pools, tennis courts, columns of private bungalows, and enough pretentiousness to satisfy the most inflated of egos.
A spiffy valet in a mauve-colored uniform took the car key with a grin.
“That’s a Delahaye 165 cabriolet,” he said.
“Yes it is,” said a surprised Archer. “How do you know that?”
“My granddad’s French,” he said. “He worked at the company before World War I.”
“Great, but this has the steering wheel on the other side of the English Channel.”
They entered the main dining room. It had once been the grand ballroom for the hotel; a thousand diners were eating and drinking, all while sitting next to fake, full-sized palm trees with mechanical monkeys swinging overhead.
Archer knew the Academy Awards had been held here numerous times, and he had a feeling that Callahan would love nothing more than to walk down the red carpet with that little statuette. Now he looked at Callahan, and she eyed him back.
“I won’t be long,” she said in an apologetic tone.
“Sure you won’t,” he said dully.
They had talked about this on the way over.
Callahan was not really here for a drink. She was here to work.
While Callahan went to mingle and see who she needed to see, Archer reversed course and went directly to the hotel bar, which looked like the world’s biggest palm tree had sprouted right behind the smiling countermen. Archer didn’t want a frond in his face, just a drink in his hand. And a minute later, in return for two bucks, he was saddled with a whiskey and water, where the whiskey appeared as a nominal oil slick on the water’s surface.
One fresh-faced girl, presumably from out of state and there with her equally goggle-eyed parents, came up to him and, giggling excitedly, asked if he was famous and could she have her picture taken with him.