He sipped his drink and said, “Ran into Eleanor Lamb earlier tonight. Understand she’s working on a script for your husband to direct Bette Davis?”
She eyed him coolly. “Bart Green is just throwing him a bone. Only Danny doesn’t know it or doesn’t want to admit to knowing it. No way in hell Bette Davis is letting Danny direct her. It would be like Lassie directing Brando, and that’s an insult, actually, to the dog.”
“So, Green and your husband go way back, I understand?”
“Farther back than me and Danny, but we’ve only been married three years. That’s the number wife I am by the way, three.”
“You know Lamb well?”
She looked over Archer’s shoulder and didn’t answer right away. “We’ve spent some time together. We’re certainly not best friends or anything. Why?”
“She might be in need of my services.”
The X-ray look came out again. She moved closer and the bare skin of her thigh smacked the flesh of Archer’s free hand. He didn’t move it, because he wanted information. Besides, her smooth skin felt nice.
“And what services do you perform for women, Archer?”
“I’m a private investigator. Oh, and I take on male clients, too.” She moved away from him. He saw a tiny red patch on her leg where his hand had maybe stroked it. She took a drag on her smoke. “Why does she need a PI?”
“Why does anyone need a PI? They have a problem they want solved.”
“And what is her problem?” Mars asked, a line of worry suddenly creasing her brow, which intrigued Archer.
“Can’t get into it. Professional ethics. But what can you tell me about her?”
“You sound like you’re investigating your own client.”
“Archer just likes to be thorough, don’t you, Archer?” Callahan had a glass of champagne in one hand and her clutch purse in the other. Her nose and the rest of her face looked superbly powdered.
“That’s right. And getting to know the client often helps solve the problem.”
“Liberty, you never told me you had such a tall, dark, handsome, and curious friend.”
“I like to keep him under wraps. The competition here is murder.”
Mars plucked out her smoke from the holder, dumped it on a passing tray, and loaded in a fresh cigarette she took from a crystal glass stuffed with them on a highly polished refectory table. Archer lit her up and she blew smoke out of her nostrils.
“To answer your question, Ellie always struck me as a straight-laced, nose-to-the-typewriter type. Very focused. Once she knows what she wants, she goes out and gets it. She’s not a party girl. She was invited to this party, but I don’t think she’s going to show.”
“You know anything of her personal life?”
“I’ve been out to her place in Malibu.”
“Why was that?”
“A few times Danny needed some script notes delivered to her and I was going that way. Another time she had us over for dinner with Bart and his wife.”
“Why does she live in Malibu?”
“Why does anyone live in Malibu? For the sand? For the privacy?”
“A little pricey for a typewriter type.”
Mars gave him an unreadable look. “Maybe Lamb has another source of funds. People do, you know. My grandfather worked with J. P. Morgan. And my mother’s side comes from U.S. Trust money. I freely admit I did nothing to earn it. But I haven’t squandered it, either. I’m a girl who lives on the interest and doesn’t touch the principal. And I don’t let Danny touch it, either.”
“Any other thoughts?” asked Archer.
“Danny spends more time with her. You might want to talk to him.”
“Thanks. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“It’s easy. Find the cheapest-looking dame here with the biggest boobs, and he’ll be the really tall, bald guy right beside her looking down her dress for the sheer thrill of it.”
Callahan hooked him by the arm. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Chapter 7
What the hell are you doing, Archer?” scolded Callahan after they walked away from Gloria Mars. “Ellie didn’t want anyone she works with to know she hired a PI. I bet Gloria is going to phone Bart Green right now and tell him.”
“Why isn’t Bart Green here for the party if he and Mars are best buddies?”
“He likes Danny, sure, but he’s going to be boozing and celebrating with folks a few steps above this crowd. The only reason Danny got this kind of turnout is because it’s in the penthouse at the Ambassador. But my point is, now Green is sure to find out.”
“It’s a calculated risk, Liberty. And if someone is trying to kill Lamb and succeeds, everyone’s going to know about it anyway. But if the threat is coming from close by, having them on notice that a PI is digging around might give them pause.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Gloria Mars doesn’t like her husband very much.”
“And that surprised you? I thought you handled divorce cases.”
“Maybe I was just hoping there was one happily married couple in this damn town.”
“Not in this price range. But you keep right on hoping.”
“Do you see Danny Mars?” asked Archer.
“I do. He’s about six-six and bald as a cue ball, so he’s hard to miss. And Gloria was spot-on. There he is next to Miss D-cup of 1952.”
“Is that her official name or did her mother give her another?”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em, and I see two really big ones right now.”
“You want to see if you can pry him away from her?”
She bumped him with her hip. “You think there’s any doubt I can?”
Archer held up both hands in surrender. “You could seduce the collar off a bishop.”
“You should’ve heard me in confession. The priests enjoyed it way more than I did.”
She sauntered away, and in about thirty seconds Danny Mars was shaking Archer’s hand while leering at Callahan. Mars was at least fifteen years older than his wife, had the neck of a water buffalo and the face to match. His brow furrows were so deep Archer could have hidden paper clips in between them. He had on a suit of creamy white gabardine with a yellow-and-blue-checked ascot at his throat, and his shirt was a bright orange silk. His pocket square matched the ascot. His white shirt cuffs had gold-plated links. His shoes were brown calfskin. A man who took care with his appearance, Archer concluded. He ordinarily didn’t trust such men. They were too calculating and usually had a lot to hide.
She explained Archer’s interest in Ellie Lamb.
“You know, she has been acting a little strange lately,” said Mars.
“How so?”
“She’s been writing from her house, not the office.”
“Why’d she move to Malibu?”
“Maybe it was for the sea air and lying on the beach.”
“She’s in one of the canyons,” said Archer.
“Well, you’d have to ask her,” said Mars as his gaze worked the room.
“When did she move out there?” asked Archer.
“Couple years ago or so, something like that. Hold on there, boy.” Mars stopped one of the waiters and nabbed a glass of champagne off his tray, and at the same time neatly slipped an arm around Callahan’s waist. “Now, this gal is going places. After my new film comes out everybody’s going to be talking about her.”
When his hand dipped to her buttocks and stayed there, Callahan said, “Time to powder my nose again. Archer, I’ll leave you boys to it.”
Archer knew young actresses had to powder their noses all the time.
Mars quickly turned to Archer. “How is she in the sack? Amazing, right?”
“I wouldn’t know,” lied Archer. “We’re just friends.”