Dan nodded. “I know her. Catered a couple of her parties. Crazy damn woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tough as shoe leather. If it’s not the way she wants it, she’s a goddamn maniac.”

I smiled at Dan’s candor. “What kind of parties did she have? Artist friends talking art?”

“Artists, my ass,” Dan murmured. He snorted a laugh. “Bunch of freaks, if you ask me. One of them told me one night they were all models. Auditioning, or something. Said the Archer woman liked to see them in a social setting before she decided which one to paint.”

“That’s unique,” I said.

Dan’s smile and voice were teasing. “That’s not how you do it, Bobo?”

“Never have.”

“Well, damn, you’ve been missing out. I mean some of those girls looked pretty good. A little anorexic, maybe— especially for me.” He patted his stomach proudly. “But a good-looking skinny girl needs as much attention as a plump one. Naw, Bobo, if I was an artist—I mean, like you, instead of in a kitchen—I’d hold so damn many auditions, they’d think Cecil B. DeMille had kicked off the dirt and pulled himself up out of the grave, and even if I didn’t do anything but look, it’d be worth it.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” I said.

“Want some more coffee?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I need to get up to the Inn and take a shower.”

Dan wiggled his eyebrows. “Got a big date tonight?”

“Dinner with a friend.”

“Not Lila, is it?”

“Good God, Dan, of course not,” I answered in shock. “Why’d you say that?”

He lifted himself from his chair and stretched. “Well, it’s none of my business, but I think Sammy wonders about you.”

“Me?”

“You, Bobo.”

“Lila and I are just friends,” I assured him. “And you know her. She likes to play games.”

His face turned serious. He said in a quiet voice, “It’s not Lila that I worry about. It’s Sammy. I swear to Jesus, he’s stuck between floors and the emergency bell’s not working.”

“Anything specific?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know.” He looked out of the front window and across the street to Arch’s.

“Sounds like you do,” I said.

He chuckled softly. “Hell, Bobo, we’re all a little crazy up here. Don’t you know that? Sometimes I think we’re the last people on earth and there’s not enough of us left to make any difference whether we survive or not. We kind of stand around watching one another, to see who’s going off the deep end first. It’s like that thing that nutty old friend of yours said when he was in here two or three years ago.”

“Avrum?” I asked.