Daly had the habit of serviceability. `Okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.'
I waited for him in my car, trying to put the case together in my mind. It was fairly clear that Sipe and Mike Harley had been working together, and had used the Barcelona as a hideout. It didn't look as if Tom had been a prisoner; more likely a willing guest, as Harley had said from the start. Even with Laguna Perdida School in the background, it was hard to figure out why a boy would do this to his parents and himself.
Daly came off the highway with a flourish and parked his pickup beside me. He got out and slammed the door, which had his name on it. He gave me a frowzy sardonic pre-dawn look.
`What's on your mind, Mr. Archer?'
`Get in. I'll show you a picture.'
He climbed in beside me. I turned on the dome light and got out Tom's photograph. Every time I looked at it it had changed, gathering ambiguities on the mouth and in the eyes.
I put it in Daly's oil-grained hands. `Have you seen him?'
`Yeah. I have. I saw him two or three times over the last couple of days. He made some telephone calls from the booth there. He made one yesterday afternoon.'
`What time?'
`I didn't notice, I was busy. It was along toward the end of the afternoon. Then I saw him again last night waiting for the bus.'
He pointed down the road toward Santa Monica. `The bus stops at the intersection if you flag it down. Otherwise it don't.'
`Which bus is that?'
`Any of the intercity buses, expecting the express ones.'
`Did you see him get on a bus?'
`No. I was getting ready to close up. Next time I looked he was gone.'
`What time was this?'
`Around eight-thirty last night.'
`What was he wearing?'
`White shirt, dark slacks.'
`What made you interested enough to watch him?'
Daly fidgeted. `I dunno. I didn't watch him exactly. I saw him come out of the grounds of the Barcelona and I wondered what he was doing there, naturally. I'd hate to see such a nice-looking boy mixed up with a man like Sipe.'
He glanced at the photograph and handed it back to me, as if to relieve himself of the responsibility of explaining Tom.
`What's the matter with Sipe?'
`What isn't? I've got boys of my own, and I hate to see a man like Sipe teaching the boys to drink and other things. He ought to be in jail, if you want my opinion.'
`I agree. Let's put him there.'
`You're kidding.'
`I'm serious, Ben. Right now Sipe is in his hotel room, passed out. He probably won't wake up for a long time. Just in case he does, will you stay here and watch for him to come out?'
'What do I do if he comes out?'
`Call the police and tell them to arrest him.'
`I can't do that,' he said uneasily. `I know he's a bad actor, but I got nothing definite to go on.'
`I have. If you're forced to call the police, tell them Sipe is wanted in Pacific Point on suspicion of kidnapping. But don't call them unless you have to. Sipe is my best witness, and once he's arrested I'll never see him again.'
`Where are you going?'
`To see if I can trace the boy.'
His eyes brightened. `Is he the one that's been in all the papers? What's his name? Hillman?'
`He's the one.'
`I should have recognized him. I dunno, I don't pay too much attention to people's faces. But I can tell you what kind of a car they drive.'
`Does Sipe have a car?'
`Yeah. It's a '53 Ford with a cracked engine. I put some goop in it for him, but it's due to die any day.'
Before I left, I asked Daly if he had seen anyone else around the hotel. He had, and he remembered. Mike Harley had been there Monday morning, driving the car with the Idaho license. I guessed that Tom had been riding in the trunk.
`And just last night,' he said, `there was this other young fellow driving a brand-new Chevvy. I think he had a girl with him, or maybe a smaller fellow. I was just closed up, and my bright lights were off.'
