MALLORY GREEN INTRODUCED HERSELF AND offered him coffee, which he accepted, because the effect of the half pot already consumed had worn off. Eager-beaver Sally went off to relay the order.
A maid in full servant regalia brought it back in a cup and saucer with a fine filigree design. Archer sipped his coffee without slurping, just to show that he, too, had a bit of culture at nine thirty in the morning while wearing a still sandy, hastily sponged suit.
“So, you’ve had no word from Lamb?” he said after the maid had departed.
“None, neither has Cecily. We’re all terribly worried.”
“You might want to file a report with the county’s Missing Persons Bureau.”
“My God, aren’t they already looking for her?”
“Not necessarily. She’s an adult woman who can come and go as she pleases. I suggested to the cops that they consider her missing. But you filing a report can’t hurt.”
“Yes, of course. I will do so.”
“So they haven’t been by to talk to anyone about her?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Archer didn’t know what to make of that. “Does she have any family locally that needs to be notified?”
“No, but I believe she has family back east.”
“So Lamb has worked at your husband’s company for how long now?”
The ax blade took a swipe at Archer and cleaved off a layer of his skin. “It’s our company, Mr. Archer. I’m a producer in my own right, though I create documentaries on subjects of importance. I’ve won two Academy Awards for my work, meaning Bart has two fewer than I do,” she added, in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Excuse me, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s all right. No one ever assumes the wives in this town have anything to do other than dress nicely, stay skinny, not dribble what little food we do eat down our fronts, and never, ever drink as much as our husbands, at least in public. To answer your question, Ellie has been with us for a number of years.”
“I would imagine you can do what you want, Mrs. Green, being as accomplished as you are.” He wanted to add, Like eat a proper meal every now and again.
“Documentaries, Academy Award–winning or not, do not make much money, Mr. Archer. But they cost quite a bit to make. Bart’s simple fare, on the other hand, practically mints the stuff. Thus, certain compromises must be reached.”
Archer was now done with discussing the Greens’ business arrangement, otherwise known as a festering marriage. “So, you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
“A status update on your investigation, of course.”
“Those are usually reserved for the client. Right now, that’s Cecily Ransome.”
She looked put out. “But Ellie’s my employee. And I care about what happens to her.”
“I understand. So while I’m here, do you know any reason why someone would want to harm Lamb?”
“No, none at all.”
“A man was found dead at her house. Someone had shot him in the head.”
“Yes, Cecily mentioned that. Do the police know who he is?”
“He’s a PI from Anaheim named Cedric Bender.”
If Archer had pulled a rattlesnake out of his pocket and thrown it at the woman, it would not have had a greater effect on Mallory Green.
Her eyelids fluttered, and then her pupils rolled like slot machine plates right into her head. He thought she was going to pass out, and she did slump to the side. She sat there breathing hard and looking distressed, holding her chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked quickly.
She nodded, but still looked weak and distraught.
He rushed over to the bar, poured some brandy into a cut crystal glass, and brought it to her. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
Green sipped the brandy and looked over at him, finally managing an embarrassed smile. “You must think I’m mad or something.”
“No, I just think you were shocked to hear a PI named Cedric Bender is dead. Would you like to tell me why?”
She grimaced and put the glass down. “I’m not sure what came over me. It’s not like I know him. I have been feeling unwell lately. Maybe the flu. It’s going around.”
“It’s not the flu.”
She glanced sharply at him. “I tell you that it is. I’ve been feeling poorly all week in fact.”
“And you’re sticking to that story?”
“It’s the truth!”
Archer put on his hat. “Okay, I’ll be heading out now.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes crackling with energy. “What! Why? You just got here.”
“I’ve been retained to find Eleanor Lamb, preferably alive. I don’t have time to waste with people who are lying to me. Even I charge too much for that.”
She looked at the floor. “How dare you accuse me of lying—”
Archer broke in. “It wasn’t that hard in your case. Most people don’t nearly faint and then lie so badly afterwards they have to stare at the floor because they’re too embarrassed to look at the poor slob they’re trying to blow smoke at. So either Bender is your maiden name and Cedric is your beloved brother or other close relative, and you’re understandably upset at his being murdered. Or you hired PI Bender to do a job for you. In the course of doing that job, someone killed him. I told you he was dead. You clearly didn’t know that, and it shocked you. If I’m off, just tell me so, but tell me so while looking directly at me, lady.”
Archer wasn’t sure whether she was going to cry, attack him, or have him thrown out by the brawny Mexican grounds crew.
She surprised him. “You’re obviously very good at your job, Mr. Archer.”
“And I also have something called pride in my work and a couple of morals resting in my pocket, one of which includes telling the truth. I know that’s out of style in this town, but I keep trying. So why’d you hire Bender?”
She looked up at him, those two-by-four lips now twisted in anger. “To investigate my husband. I’m certain that crummy bastard is cheating on me. Again.”