Callahan shook her head. “I’m not ready for bed. I’m a night owl.”
“What are you ready for?” asked Archer.
“A drink.”
“Afraid my flask is almost empty.”
“I’ve got a bottle and two glasses hidden away under my bed. Old Fitz Kentucky bourbon work for you? It’s wheat, not rye.”
“I like pretty much any grain that’s been liquefied.”
They sat on the fire escape as they sipped their drinks.
“So California, huh?” said Callahan.
“Yep.”
“What’s out there for you?”
“A private eye named Willie Dash. I’m hoping he’ll take me under his wing and teach me the business.”
“So you wanna be, what, a gumshoe like Humphrey Bogart?”
“Bogie just pretends to be a gumshoe. I want to be one for real.”
“Taking pictures of married men and women cheating? Running down lousy deadbeats for money? Poking into people’s secrets? That’s your idea of a job?”
“Must be,” said Archer bluntly. “Because I haven’t thought of another one.”
She cocked her head and appraised him carefully. “You could be in the pictures, Archer. Sure, you’re rough around the edges and you’re definitely not Cary Grant, but you’re all right. And you’re tall and you have broad shoulders and you got a nice voice.”
“Funny, those are exactly the requirements for a private eye.”
“Stop teasing and pour me another drink.”
He did so, then helped himself to another finger of Old Fitz and settled back against the hard metal of the fire escape. After the wild ride in the Delahaye, it felt good not to be moving or shot at.
“So you got any family hereabouts?” he asked.
“No, because I’m not from here.”
“Where then?”
“None of your business.”
He gave her a bemused look. “I thought we were getting along okay.”
“I don’t like talking about myself all that much. And I told you where I worked during the war and about my brother and cousin. Hell, that’s pretty much my life story. What about you? Where are you coming from?”
“Little town called Poca City, nearly fifteen hundred miles due east of here.”
“That’s one long trip.”
“And my butt and back felt every mile.”
“Never heard of Poca City.”
“I wouldn’t recommend you going there and finding out for yourself.”
“You had a bad time there?”
“You could say that,” Archer replied evenly.
“And what were you doing there?”
“Just passing through.” He paused, took a drink, and said, “So the car. What would you say to driving west with me?”
“I don’t know. How far is this place from Hollywood?”
“They’re both in southern California. Bet there’s a bus to Hollywood from where I’m headed.”
She eyed him nervously. “You looked real good with that gun back there.”
“Everybody looks good with a gun, until they get shot by somebody else with a bigger gun or better aim.”
“I don’t necessarily mean that as a compliment. You’re no criminal, are you? I mean, you haven’t been to prison, right?”
“Do I look like I’ve been in prison?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met any ex-cons before.”
“You telling me in a place like Reno there are no ex-cons?”
“I’m sure there are. I’ve just never met any.”
“That you know of, you mean. They wouldn’t exactly come out and tell you.”
“Does that include you, Archer?”
Archer almost winced at how neatly she had played him on that one.
He finished one more finger of the Old Fitz before answering her. “Truth is, I served three years. Got out early for good behavior. Spent my parole time in Poca City. Only reason I was there. Now I’m done with my parole. I’m as free as any other man.”
“What were you in for? If you only spent three years in the slammer, it couldn’t have been too bad,” she added hopefully.
“I didn’t hurt anybody and I didn’t steal a dime. And I was innocent, by the way. But I guess they all say that.”
“I guess they do.”
“It…it was actually about a gal and another car. Her father’s. She wanted to get away from him, start life fresh somewhere.”
“Well, my father’s long since dead, but sounds like my situation.”
“It didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. For either one of us.”
“Did you love her?”
“No,” he said sharply. “It was nothing like that.”
“Okay, Archer, don’t get sore.”
“Maybe I was just trying to be a hero. You know, save the gal.”
“I was just asking because with a guy and a gal it usually is about love, or lust, or a combo of the two.”
He eyed her curiously. “You sound like you know all about it.”
“You think you’re the only one life’s dumped on? I got my bruises, too, maybe they don’t show as well as yours, is all. And I never got to play the hero.”
“So were you the damsel in distress?”
She finished her drink. “I don’t recall getting saved one time. Quite the opposite.”
He put his empty glass down. “So I suppose you riding with me to California is out then.”
“What makes you say that?”
He looked up at her in some surprise. “I’m an ex-con, whether I deserve it or not.”
“But you gave me half your winnings at roulette when you didn’t have to. And I saw how you were with the old guy. You defended him from those thugs when you didn’t have to. They could’ve killed you, and you didn’t even really know him. And you saved our lives tonight with a nifty piece of driving and shooting. And you’re going to buy a car you don’t really need to help that old man from getting killed. And…”
“And what?”
“And we’re sitting out here all alone and you haven’t made one move on me. Now, I can tell you that has never happened to me before, least since my breasts came in.”
Archer actually blushed at this last remark.
She added, “And you get embarrassed when a girl says ‘breasts.’ That makes you all right in my book, Archer.”
“Funny the things you learn along the way. So California?”
“I can be ready to go after you get the car squared away.”
“What about the Dancing Birds? What about Mr. Shyner?”
“Oh, they’ve got lots of gals waiting to take my place. And Mr. Shyner knows I want to go to Hollywood. I’ll write him a note in the morning and get it to him. It’ll be okay.”
Archer nodded. “Well, I guess we better get some sleep then. Long day tomorrow.”
“I guess so.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“Just for being a nice guy. There aren’t that many out there, least from where I’m sitting.” She eyed the window. “I’ve got carpet in my bedroom if you want to sleep on the floor. Might be easier on you.”
He eyed her long legs, the curve of her hips and bosom, the hair bouncing off her graceful shoulders, and, best of all, the woman’s warm, tender smile.
“For a lot of reasons, and I’m not saying they’re all good ones, I’ll sleep next to the snoring old man.”
“You sure?”
“No. But it might actually be harder, not easier, on me if I took you up on your offer.”
Her smile deepened. “Just confirmed everything I’ve been saying about you, Archer.”
“Yeah, well, good night.”
“Good night.”
She climbed in one window and he the adjacent one.
And neither one got much sleep at all.
Chapter 10
THE NEXT MORNING, WITH ALL THE PAPERWORK DONE, Howell
s shook Archer’s hand on the steps of the government building.
“Well, good luck to you,” said Howells as he folded the cash and put it away in his billfold.
“And good luck to you, too, Bobby H. But if I were you I’d get out of town while you still can. Reno isn’t a good place for you. You can do better, and live longer, somewhere else.”
“You might be right about that, Archer. In fact, I’m certain of it.”
Archer read the man’s face like a telegram form. “But you’re staying?”
“Yes I am. It’s principle, sort of. Convoluted and perhaps nonsensical to some if not most, but principle all the same.” He twirled the ends of his mustache, as though putting an exclamation point at the end of his words.
“Like I said before, it’s your funeral, Bobby H, and I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean six feet under just like for everybody else.”
Howells’s face crinkled at this remark. “You’re a good man, Archer. Take care out there in California. What I’ve heard of the Golden State there might be danger there as well.”
“There’s danger everywhere, if you take the time to look for it. And sometimes even if you don’t. By the way, where do I send the payments?”
Howells took a card from his pocket and passed it across. “This address will find me.”
Archer studied the card. It had a street address and read: “Robert Howells c/o Reno City Jail. To be held until picked up.”
“So do you live at the jail? Is that where the room you mentioned is?”
“A truly remarkable notion, Archer.”
“Which isn’t exactly a no.” Archer slid the card into his jacket. “You’re a strange one, you are, Bobby H.”
“So will the beautiful and vivacious Liberty Callahan be making the journey with you?”
“A long trip is better with some companionship.”
“And companionship of a beautiful young woman trumps all other companions of my acquaintance.”
“If you say so.”
Howells patted his breast pocket and said, “Nice doing business with you, Archer.”
On that, Howells walked off with his head held cockily high and his pocket chock-full of money that Archer was sure the man would not use to pay off the debt, but rather lose at gambling. He might be dead before the sun rose the next morning.
Archer had already gotten his bag from the hotel and placed it in the trunk of the Delahaye. He hoofed it back to Callahan’s building to find her carrying two suitcases down the front steps. She was in her traveling outfit, complete with a hat that had a bird clinging to the side like a barnacle to a hull. He helped her with the bags and closed up the trunk. Then he pulled out the car key and slipped into the right-hand drive seat of the Delahaye while Callahan took up a perch on the left.
“This is going to take some practice,” noted Archer as he put the key in the ignition, turned it, and then thumbed the starter button. The Delahaye roared to breathless life.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Driving on the wrong side of a car.”
They headed out of town.
People on the streets turned to stare at the ride.
“It does draw attention,” observed Callahan.
“Yeah, I’m actually not too thrilled about that right now.”
“Too late for that thinking, Archer. Hey, do you even know which way to go?”
“Looked at my nickel map this morning. We basically keep driving west and then we turn south for a bit and then we turn west again and we stop right before we plunge into the Pacific.”
“This is so exciting, Archer, don’t you think?”
“Sure. I can barely keep my teeth from chattering.”
“New lives for us both. You a shamus and me a movie star.”
“I think you have the harder road.”
“Do people shoot at shamuses?”
“If they do, I got some practice with that last night.”
She took the .38 Special from her purse. “Don’t worry, I reloaded last night.”
He shot her a curious glance.
“You never carry an empty gun around, Archer. What would be the point?”
“As a former soldier, I can’t argue with that logic.”
“How long will it take us to get there?”
“We’ll never make it to where we’re going in one day, not even in this rocket ship. We’ll have to stop for the night.”
Archer glanced at the woman in time to see her let slip an anticipatory smile at his remark. He tossed this one around in his brain for a few moments and came away with several possibilities. One of which intrigued him, and the others of which bothered him, with at least one of those putting the fear of God in him.
He glanced at the dinged metal post, the only blemish on an otherwise pristinely beautiful piece of art, at least according to Howells. Next, he focused on the road, but in his head other things commanded his attention.
This was the start of a new life for him. Or at the very least, the potential of a new life. What if he screwed it up? What if California and his dream of becoming a PI came to nothing? Then what would he do? He’d be out there without a dime to his name, in a car he couldn’t afford to make the payments on, without the prospects of anything getting better.
“You look nervous,” said Callahan.
Archer glanced over to see her staring at him with an earnest look, but then she smiled, which he liked better than earnest.
She patted his hand. “If it makes you feel any better, Archer, I’m scared, too.”
“Who says I’m scared?”
“You didn’t have to say it. I can see it. But we’re young. So what if we got a bum ride so far in life? We’re looking for something better. So why not take our shot?”
“Easy to say.”
“Hell, Archer, if it were easy, everybody would be fat and happy.”
Chapter 11
THEY DROVE DUE SOUTH TOWARD CARSON CITY and soon passed an enormous body of water.
“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” said Callahan. “Considering we’re in the middle of a desert.”
“Lake Tahoe,” said Archer as the Delahaye whizzed past it on State Route 27.
“How do you know that?”
“Read a travel brochure.”
She eyed the dashboard. “Does this thing have a radio?”
“Afraid not,” said Archer. “Nineteen thirty-nine apparently was a long time ago.”
“I like George Burns and Gracie Allen. They make me laugh. And they seem to really love each other even though they’re married.”
“Well, that’s sort of the point, isn’t it?”
“What you don’t know could fill a library, Archer.”
“What I don’t get is how come on the show Gracie always outsmarts George.”
“Well, they just like to keep it realistic.”
They crossed into California and then doglegged southwest before entering the Sierra Nevada Mountains. As the ground rose swiftly around them, Callahan clutched the edge of her seat.
“You okay?” asked Archer.
“I didn’t know we had to go through mountains to get there.”
“You ever been to California before?”
“Never. You?”
“When I was in the Army. Trained at Fort Ord and then at Camp San Luis Obispo.”
As they passed close to the edge of a long drop, she closed her eyes and said, “Well, I prefer flat land.”
“Well, with the right-hand drive and the direction we’re going, I’m the one close to the edge, not you.”
“I’m close enough, thank you very much.”
They drove past slopes full of chaparral, flatter lands of grass savannas, stands of big-leaf maples and white alders, thick, rugged live black and blue oaks, and armies of Coulter pines.
“What the hell kind of tree is that?” asked Callahan.
They were passing what looked to be a whole forest of them. They seemed to reach to the s
tars, and an Army column, complete with armor, could have ridden through an opening in one broad trunk.
“Giant sequoias, biggest trees there are. We came up here to train a few times. Ended up just staring at those suckers for about an hour.”
They started upward again with jarring swiftness and Callahan clamped her eyes shut.
“How’d you end up in Reno?” asked Archer, trying to draw her mind away from the ascending elevation.
She slowly opened her eyes. “After the war, I wasn’t sure what to do. My brother was dead, and my parents both died before the war started. The factory I worked in closed down, and with all the boys coming back from fighting there weren’t any jobs left for the women. Those who were married went back to their homes and husbands, those who came back anyway. I worked at a diner in Tennessee for a bit, then decided to just pull up stakes and totally change the direction of my life.”
“So you headed west?”
“Yes, like a lot of people.” She eyed him with a heavy-lidded look. “Like you.”
“And the stint at the Dancing Birds Café?”
“I got to Reno and was wandering around town, checking things out when I literally bumped into Mr. Shyner. I guess he liked the looks of me. I started out working as the hostess, prancing around in my tight little gown, getting my butt pinched and my boobs felt up and taking dollar tips from gents for the privilege. Then I became a waitress. The tips were better, and the ass pinchers had a tougher angle to work with, but I couldn’t see a future in it. I was practicing my dancing and singing the whole time though, you see. Out in Hollywood, the girls have to be able to do lots of things. I read about that in magazines. If I can sing and dance, I can get parts. Bit parts, sure, but then people get to know you. And your roles get bigger. That’s how it works. And if you’re lucky enough and work hard enough, you get to be a star.”
“Sounds like you gave this a lot of thought,” replied Archer.
“You have to give it thought when you’re changing your whole life.”
Archer considered this. “I’m not sure I gave my course change a lot of thinking. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“I couldn’t afford to do that, Archer. This is my last chance at something big.”
A Gambling Man Page 6
