McNally's Chance (26 page)

The waiter was suddenly hovering over us and not until then did I notice Sabrina had made short work of her drink. “We’ll have two more,” I ordered.

Sabrina picked up the pack of cigarettes and offered one to me. I refused but only after a moment’s hesitation. I struck a match and held it for her. “They are very desperate men, Ms Wright.”

“And thirty years ago I was a very desperate young girl from Brooklyn who came down here on spring break looking for a rich husband. Are you shocked?”

“Hardly. This town is full of young women, and young men, aiming for the same thing. Most of them, like you, miss the mark.”

“Miss? I don’t know about that, Mr. McNally. Three shots in the dark and one direct hit ain’t bad where I come from.” She let out that throaty laugh, and what could I do but join in? Sabrina Wright might be down, but she wasn’t out.

“I’ll admit I spread myself rather thin, but when you get the nod from an Appleton, a Cranston, and a Schuyler, you don’t say no. And how those boys flaunted their pedigree and their wealth. Me, me, me, my, my, my, and I, I, I, was the extent of their conversation, but as Larry Hart said, horizontally speaking, they were at their very best. Would you believe it was once around the block for each of them?”

“I believe you, Ms Wright, because there’s an ancient Chinese saying that reminds us that it takes many nails to construct a crib, and one screw to fill it.”

The waiter brought our seconds and Sabrina saluted my retort. “I must remember that one,” she said. “Well, they all made plans to see me again in New York, and each called when he got there. By then I knew I was in the family way, as we used to say in Brooklyn, and passed on the news to my ardent suitors, who suddenly went limp at the news. Pardon the pun.”

“Did you know who the father was?”

She shook her head. “No. How could I? And I still don’t, nor do I care to know. Those bastards all told me they could arrange for a doctor, all expenses paid, and a few bucks for my trouble. I told them it was against my religion. One by one they said I could do as I pleased, but they wanted no part of their own child. They made it very clear that I wasn’t the kind nice young men married. And that, Mr.

McNally, was their undoing. I owed them nothing and they owed me an apology which I proceeded to extract in the only words they understood cold cash.”

She went on to explain how she had cunningly plotted her revenge, dealing with each of the men individually without their ever knowing they were part of a trio.

“These are smart guys,” I said, ‘with family lawyers by the dozens. How did you manage it?”

She sipped and puffed before answering with a smile. “I showed them my birth certificate, Mr. McNally.”

“You did what?”

“Can’t you guess? The spring break was in April. I was eighteen in September of that year. I believe it’s called statutory rape and my heroes had no desire to join the ranks of Charlie Chaplin and Errol Flynn. Oh, the boys did go running to the family lawyers and I got my apology, in spades. The end.”

What a story, and what a woman. “But it’s not the end,” I said. “When men like these make a deal, especially one that puts them on the paying end, they don’t like being crossed. I spoke to all of them and I didn’t like what they had to say. They are angry with you for telling Gillian the truth.”

“Only a part of the truth,” she insisted.

“Enough to get the wind up. What did you tell them, may I ask?”

Another cigarette, hardly smoked, bit the dust. “I told them to go climb the family tree and leave the daughter they wanted to terminate to me. That’s what I told them.”

And that’s what I had feared. “Easy, Ms Wright. I don’t like these guys any more than you do but they are not to be trifled with. They will go to any length to prevent this mess from going public, and they all have good reasons for doing so. Zack Ward’s occupation, by the way, makes them very nervous.”

My caution had her fuming, which put color on her alabaster cheeks. “I know all about their political expectations and their lovely children.

In thirty years, they haven’t changed one iota. Still worried about the family name. Sill crying, me, me, me, my, my, my, and I, I, I. The nerve. The unmitigated nerve.

“Docile Tom runs to New York every chance he gets. You know why, Mr.

McNally? Because he keeps a young lady in a smart apartment on Central Park South. She’s younger than his son. When Dick disappears for a few weeks on business he’s at a posh rehab spa, drying out. Harry couldn’t marry me, but he ended up tying the knot with a lesbian, a nympho, and a tramp. Don’t trifle with them? I’ll step all over them, Mr. McNally.”

I again advised restraint. “It makes no sense to bait them.

Concentrate on getting Gillian and Zack out of Palm Beach no wiser than when they arrived. Harry’s son will be married in a few months, Troy Appleton will know his political future by then, and Cranston will get his appointment. It will take the heat off everyone for a spell and perhaps calmer heads will prevail.”

“Don’t think I’m not trying to do just that. I told you I had offered Zack an interview if he could talk Gillian into giving up the search and going home. He’s very interested. I even took them all out the other evening for a start.”

“So I heard. The Club Colette.”

“Does nothing in this town go unnoticed, Mr. McNally?”

“No, ma’am. The spring break trio will know about this meeting before it’s over.”

She shrugged as if it made no difference at this point. “I am so tired,” she moaned. “I have spent all my life planning and plotting and scheming and working at that damn word processor until my eyes cross to keep my family living in luxury, and what do I get in return?

Crap, that’s what. Ungrateful pups. Now I have to give an interview to a tabloid I wouldn’t use to wipe my feet on to get Gillian to do what I ask. I am tired, Mr. McNally. Very, very tired.”

“Perhaps if you treated them with a little more respect and understanding,” I ventured warily, ‘they would respond in kind.”

She gave me a vacant stare and spoke as if by rote. “Understanding, you say? Gillian falls in love with any man who looks at her twice.

It’s clear what they’re after. Her legacy. Do you think I enjoy playing the party pooper? Well, I don’t, but I must. Robert is always short of cash and long on places to go, like expensive men’s boutiques, cocktail parties, and topless bars. I am the guy who keeps the show on the road and the actors from bumping into the scenery. Now if you don’t mind, doctor, I will get up off the couch and head home. I’m seeing one of Gillian’s fathers tonight. The last of the Mohegans.”

With Sabrina Wright, if at first you don’t succeed, give up. I reached for her cigarettes and helped myself to one. I deserved it. “Do you know, Ms Wright, you are named after an ancient Roman river?”

Tunny, I thought I was named after an Audrey Hepburn movie.”

“Au cont mire Before there was Audrey Hepburn there was the river Severn.”

For my last dinner with Ursi and Jamie in the family kitchen I took more care with my attire than I had been doing since being orphaned.

Casual elegance was the goal. Too formal would put a damper on the party and too relaxed would be rude. Taupe gabardine slacks, a plummy silk jacket over a blue chambray shirt, and black patent-leather gentleman’s pumps. A look in the glass confirmed that a picture is worth a thousand words.

I was delighted to see that Ursi and Jamie had also taken extra care with their apparel, although both would deny that they had done any such thing. Jamie was in summer flannels with a matching jacket, and I could see a print dress beneath Ursi’s apron.

We greeted each other a bit sheepishly before I went into the den and returned with three martinis on a tray. Ursi giggled; Jamie nodded appreciatively and Archy passed out the silver bullets. To us,” I toasted. One sip and we were laughing at our own maladroit behavior.

Reverting to business as usual we plunged into gossip, the homecoming, and Ursi’s feast.

For our last supper, so to speak, Ursi had prepared and now served what I have long considered to be the quintessence of gastronomic delights.

A Caesar salad, a la Ursi only the tender est inner leaves of the romaine lettuce steak au poivre, garlic mashed potatoes, stuffed mushrooms, and tiny green peas in butter.

The steaks had been rubbed with crushed peppercorns, wrapped in paper, and left for hours, allowing the meat to absorb all the peppery flavor.

Minutes before serving them Ursi sauteed the prime cuts in a mixture of hot oil and butter until they were charred on the outside and succulently rare within.

When the steaks were removed from the pan Ursi quickly added butter, shallots, and cognac to the remaining juices to create a sauce for the banquet. Sumptuous is an understatement and you could cut Ursi’s steak au poivre with a fork.

I kept my promise and poured a fine Bordeaux St. fimilion, remembering to thank father for leaving me the key to the wine cellar. Dessert was a strawberry chantilly with Bavarian cream.

Leave home? Sure. When elephants roost in trees.

Twenty-One

The phone woke me. Trouble. I knew by the insistent urgency of the ring, which was as jarring as chalk on a blackboard. Besides, no one in Palm Beach would dream of calling on Sunday before noon.

When I heard Al Rogoff’s voice I honestly thought Binky had mangled himself with his new electric mixer. “Sorry to wake you, Archy,” Al began.

“Not at all, Al. I was just dressing for church.”

“You still working for Sabrina Wright?” he asked.

“No. We formally terminated our working relationship yesterday.

Why?”

“Someone terminated the lady last night.”

I was in my pajama tops, the only half I ever wear, and felt an icy draft attack my lower extremities. “Come again, Al.”

“You heard me,” he said.

“Where? When?”

“In her rented car. Last night about ten, as far as we can determine.”

I jumped on that. “Her car? An accident?”

“No, Archy. Someone put a bullet in her head.”

Amazing how calmly Al Rogoff could deliver such news. It must go with the territory. Murder always got me where I lived and, come to think of it, it got the victim in the same place. Sabrina gone. Still half awake, I wondered If I was dreaming the whole thing. Like the guy who’s stopped for passing a red light and telling the officer, “I saw it, sir, but I did not perceive it.” I heard it but I hadn’t as yet grasped it. I could see her face; laughing, seething, cajoling. I visualized her dictating to those she professed to love and ruled like a despot. I heard her telling the three contenders to ‘go climb the family tree.” Brash, brazen, and foolish Sabrina. Did her sense of humor fail her in the end, or did she enrage her assailant with, “Do you expect to shoot a leopard, Mr. .. .”

“The palace is in an uproar,” I heard Al say. A visiting celebrity gunned down on our turf. The press is here from Miami, Tallahassee, and Atlanta. We hear the boys from New York have touched down in Fort Lauderdale and the rest are arriving at any airport in the state they could book a flight to without having to wait more than five minutes to board.”

“Where are you now, Al?”

“In my car on the cell phone. I just got off duty. This call is a warning, Archy. You’re going to be questioned, you know that.”

I knew it. I also know I could narrow the investigation down to three names, all of which would make headlines in every capital of the western world and especially in our very own. I stood there, bottomless, shivering at the thought of the awesome power I possessed.

Until yesterday Sabrina and I held the fate of those three men in the palm of our hands. Now there was only one hand left holding the bag.

I had to think and I needed the time in which to do it. Time was at a premium and right now I couldn’t parse a sentence in a first-grade reader. “Al, this is important. I need to know the facts. Can we rendezvous in our office in an hour? I won’t keep you long and then you can go home and get some sleep.”

“Don’t worry about me, Archy. I got a few hours off to shower and change my socks. All hands on deck until further notice. You’re on in one hour and don’t dawdle over your wardrobe. Come as you are.”

“If I did, Al, you’d arrest me.”

“Cute, Archy, cute.”

I put the phone down and it rang immediately. I didn’t have the time but I couldn’t afford not to know who wanted me. “Archy here.”

“Lolly here. Have you heard?”

“I’ve heard, Lolly, but I don’t have time to discuss it. Maybe later.”

“Every network reported it and CNN is carrying it as a news-breaking story. There goes my exclusive,” he moaned.

A thousand-watt bulb exploded in my head. “Ain’t it a bitch, Lol? She had agreed to meet with you tonight in her suite at The Breakers.”

“I believe you, Archy, because deep down I’m in love with you. I have a penchant for losers.”

“It’s nice to be loved, Lol. Now I have to go.”

“Any idea who done it, and why? They say it’s linked to her daughter’s raking up the past. I heard the police are going to commandeer all the old newspapers she was thumbing through as soon as the library opens tomorrow morning. I imagine they’ll want to question all the newspaper editors she called and you, too, I’m sure.”

The big three were hearing the same rumors and quaking. Did the fool who did it realize he had cut off his nose? Did the other two think a kind benefactor had interceded on their behalf? Or was it a conspiracy? Could the old school buddies have sat down at Casa Gran after the guests had left and exchanged notes? Was I losing it? I was.

“I know as much about this as you do, Lol, but if I hear anything you’ll be the first to know. Now I have to go.”

I hung up before he could respond. I showered, brushing my pear lies under the spray to save time, shaved, nicked my chin, doused my face with witch hazel, got into a pair of briefs, jeans, last night’s chambray shirt, and sneakers.

The phone rang. Archy here, and I can’t talk.”

“Have you heard?” It was Connie. “It’s all over the TV. The local station has a camera outside the police station. I saw Al Rogoff coming out. What do you know?”