A Gambling Man David Baldacci (reading eggs books .TXT) 📖

to be fatiguing, she commenced pushing back hard against him and moaning louder, telling him he was bigger, harder, stronger, more virile than any man alive. It was like a coxswain calling out encouragement to the rowers to get them to accelerate their strokes. Sheen, thus puffed up, obliged her, but he was so unsteady on his feet he bumped into the nightstand and knocked both a half-filled glass and a Bible onto the floor.

In short order, the flabby man, thus inspired, finished his business and slumped over her, his massive weight forcing the woman down flat on the bed. Her expression was now one of irritation coupled with relief. Archer watched as she wriggled out from under him. Then she turned, smiled, and patted his cheek.

“Oh my God, Wilson. I’m gonna be walking funny for a week.” He rubbed her cheek, smiled, and then promptly fell asleep.

She quickly rose, dressed fast, and headed for the door without even bothering to cover him with a sheet. Her glance back at the sleeping man was full of disgust.

Archer closed the ceiling door and retraced his steps to Fraser’s door.

He looked out in time to see Darling’s backside as she headed down the hall. Her stockings’ seams were all off-center, but everything else seemed to be in place.

Archer fell in behind the woman and trailed her back to the first floor. She went to the check girl to get her hat, a little pillbox number the color of her dress with a little black veil tacked up. While she was doing that Archer spotted the cocktail waitress who had served him and Kemper earlier and asked her a couple of questions. She answered them, and he passed her a buck in thanks. She stuck it down her blouse, eyed him, and said, “Well, I get off at one if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, but I got other plans.”

“Jeez, I can’t buy a man tonight.”

She flounced off, and Archer hustled over to claim his hat while Darling was adjusting hers.

“Well, funny meeting you here,” he said to Darling.

She quickly turned. “Mr. Archer?”

“I thought this place was built mainly for the guys.”

Her gaze inadvertently ventured upward, all the way, Archer thought, to the room where Sheen was now peacefully sleeping off probably the best sex of his life.

She blushed beautifully and looked back at him. “I was meeting a friend. And I come here for a drink now and then.”

“Oh, well, then I’ll leave you to it.”

“No. I mean, I’ve met my friend and we’re all…done now.”

“Well, then how about that drink we talked about?”

“What? Oh, um, all right. What the hell.”

“That’s what I like to hear from a gal: ‘What the hell.’”

He was rewarded with a crimsoning of her cheeks.

They got their drinks, he a beer and she a gin and tonic. He led her out to the rear terrace, and they occupied the same chairs he and Kemper had used earlier.

“So, was your friend one of the gals in the office?” he said.

“Um, yes, Sally. We had a drink.”

“You like working for Mr. Kemper?”

“It’s a job. I like the conditions.”

“I guess you spend more time with Wilson Sheen, though.”

She glanced sharply at him, searching his features for some telltale sign that his words meant something more. But Archer had prepared himself and gave nothing away.

“I mean, that’s why he has Sheen, right? To handle stuff for him.”

“Yes, that’s right. I do deal with Mr. Sheen more.”

She pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and he lit one for her. Her hand trembled. She took a puff and said, “Why were you meeting with him?”

“Something to do with Kemper’s campaign. We’re helping him out.”

She said derisively, “If he can’t beat a damn dentist, he doesn’t deserve the job.”

“Right. So you come here often?”

“Once or maybe twice a week. For a drink, like I said.”

“You ever run across a gal named Ruby Fraser?”

“Was she the one who was killed here? I read about it in the paper.”

“She was. So, did you know her?”

She tapped her ash into the ashtray a little too hard. It was like a toddler banging his toy against the wall right before she went truly berserk.

“No, no I didn’t.”

“I spoke with Kemper earlier. He was here. We sat at this very table.”

Her eyes opened wider with interest. “Really? What did you talk about?”

“Just business. He said Wilson Sheen was here, too. Have you seen him? I think I spotted him a while ago. I wanted to talk to him as well.”

“Mr. Sheen? No, no, I haven’t seen him. If he was here, he might have left. I find he…tires easily.”

Archer observed she had to struggle to keep the smile off her face. Finally she looked away from him and drank her gin and tonic nearly to the bottom of the glass.

“Oh, that’s too bad. So how’s business?”

“We’re very busy. Mr. Kemper has his fingers in lots of pies.”

“Do you know his wife?”

“I’ve seen her.”

“She’s quite beautiful.”

“You know, Archer, the gal you’re with is the one you should be complimenting.”

He grinned. “Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re quite the looker.”

“That’s better. And I do need you to tell me.”

“Okay, you’re quite the looker. You stood out from the other gals in the office like a flamingo in the desert.”

“First time I’ve been compared to a flamingo, but I’ll take it. Even though those gals are younger than me, Archer?”

“Even though.”

She looked over his shoulder and her gaze caught on something.

When Archer turned to look, all he saw was a waitress setting down a shrimp cocktail in front of an old man with a gal half his age on his lap.

“You know them?” asked Archer.

“He’s a client of Mr. Kemper. Owns some property Kemper is trying to develop. His wife wouldn’t like what he’s doing right now.”

“I guess not.”

“So why do you want to talk to Sheen?”

“Part of the investigation. After this drink, I’m going to try to find him. He must be around here somewhere. I’ll roust him.”

She ran