Lawrence Sanders - McNally's luck

"Cease firing!" the sergeant bawled. "Cease fir-ing!"

The silence was deafening. I lay where I had fallen, knowing I was alive but fearing to move my limbs lest broken bones come poking through the skin. I was still shaken by the gunfire and trying to determine what bullets flying overhead sounded like. They did not whine, hum, or whistle. I finally decided the sound was like a sheet of good rag paper being ripped.

I raised my head cautiously. Sgt. Rogoff and two officers were standing next to Gloriana. One of them plucked away the revolver. The other knelt and turned Otto's head to peer at his face.

"He's gone, sarge," he said.

"Yeah," Al said. "A clear case of lead poisoning. Call for the meat wagon." He turned and gently assisted me to my feet. I stood shakily. "You okay?" he asked anxiously.

"I've got to get to a john," I said.

He laughed, and we started for the cabin door. Two officers came out gripping Frank Gloriana by the arms. He was limp and his feet were dragging. As they hauled him away he raised his head and glanced at me.

"Glad you're alive," he mumbled. "Really."

"Thank you," I said.

He didn't look at the corpse of his father.

We went into the cabin. Al started to pack the spilled money back into the shopping bag. I headed directly for the bathroom. When I came out, Rogoff had gone. The cardboard carton was still sitting in the middle of the floor.

I leaned down and untied the twine. I lifted the flaps warily. I feared that Peaches, thinking I was one of the miscreants, might leap at my throat and try to wrench out my Adam's apple with her teeth. But she hopped out of the box and began rubbing against my shins, purring like a maniac.

"Why, Peaches," I said, "you know a hero when you smell one, don't you?"

When Rogoff returned, I was seated on the bed and the cat was lying on her back next to me, all four paws raised in the air. I was scratching her stomach, and her eyes were closed in ecstasy.

Al said, "That's the most sickening sight I've ever witnessed in my life."

"You're just jealous," I said, "because no one does it for you."

"What makes you so sure?" he said.

"Al, can I return Peaches to Harry Willigan?"

"Yep. Tell him we'll have to hang on to his fifty grand for a while. Evidence. He'll get it back eventually. Come on, I'll give you a lift back to your car."

"I have to call the old man first. I promised."

I used the phone in the motel office. Father answered so promptly that I knew he hadn't been sleeping. It was then about two a.m.

"Archy, sir," I said. "I'm fine, and the cat has been rescued."

"Glad to hear it," he said. "Tell me about it tomorrow." Then he added precisely, "Or I should say later today."

Rogoff drove me back to the convenience store in a squad car. I had left the cardboard carton in Cabin Four and held Peaches on my lap. She was content.

"What about Irma?" I asked.

"We picked her up at midnight. She's acting the haughty, insulted grande dame and won't say a word until she sees a lawyer."

"And Hertha?"

"She wasn't in the apartment. Neighbors say they haven't seen her around for two or three days. They don't know where she is."

I could guess, but said nothing to the sergeant.

When I got out to transfer to the Miata, he said casually, "Nice work tonight, Archy."

"Thank you," I said. "You behaved admirably yourself. I'll call you after I get some sleep. Al, I don't believe Frank Gloriana is a strong character. Sweat him."

"I intend to," he said grimly.

I drove with Peaches curled up in the passenger bucket. When we arrived home I thought she might be hungry and offered her a slice of pastrami from the fridge. She ate it with obvious enjoyment. Smart cat.

She slept at the foot of my bed for the rest of the night. When I awoke around eight o'clock I discovered she had upchucked the pastrami onto the cover of my journal.

You can't win 'em all.

I breakfasted with my parents on Tuesday morning. Peaches sat patiently alongside the dining room table, and when I gave her a hunk of brioche, she nibbled it daintily, a perfect lady. Mother was delighted with her. We had had no animal in the family since Max, our golden retriever, died, and I wondered aloud if we might invite a pup, perhaps a Dandie Dinmont, to join our menage. Father promised to consider the suggestion.

After breakfast I drew him aside and gave him an abbreviated account of the police action the previous night.

"Then Otto is dead?" he asked when I had finished.

"Definitely."

"And the son is in custody?"

"That's correct, sir. And also Mrs. Irma Gloriana.

I expect Al Rogoff will be questioning them today."

He nodded. "I'd like to speak to the sergeant," he said. "Do you think he could come over this evening?"

"I'm sure he's awfully busy, father, but he might be ready for a break by tonight."

"Ask him," he said. "Tell him it concerns Roderick Gillsworth's holographic will and may possibly affect his investigation."

I knew it would be useless to ask questions, so I told him I'd try to reach Rogoff. Then he departed for the office in his Lexus, and I lifted Peaches into my Miata and headed for the Willigan home. The cat sat upright in her bucket seat, sniffed the morning air, and looked about rather grandly.

I carried her up the Willigans' stoop, but before I had a chance to ring, the door was flung open and Harry rushed out, arms outflung. "Peaches!" he screamed. "Peaches is home!" I swear there were tears in the poor goofs eyes.

He reached for his pet, but the cat had other ideas. She leaped from my arms, darted through the opened door, and went scampering down the long corridor. Willigan lumbered after her, shouting, "Sweetums! Sweetums baby! Papa is here! Come to papa, darling!"

Gruesome.

They disappeared, and I entered the house, closing the door behind me. I wandered down the hallway and out onto the back lawn. Laverne was lying supine on a chaise, wearing a hot-pink French-cut bikini. She also had a plastic shield over her eyes.

"Good morning, Laverne," I called as I approached.

She lifted the shield long enough to glance at me, then replaced it. "Hi, Archy," she said in a flat voice.

"I just returned Peaches," I said. "She was recovered last night."

"I know," she said tonelessly. "We heard it on the radio this morning."

"Will you please tell Harry the police have his fifty thousand? They're holding it temporarily as evidence. He'll get it back eventually."

"I'll tell him," she said.

I don't know why I felt sorry for her. One has to pay for one's stupidity in this world-ask me; I know! — and Laverne had certainly behaved stupidly. But I supposed she had her reasons and obviously they were sufficient for her.

"I'll try to keep you out of it," I said, "but I'm not sure it can be done."

"Out of what?" she said in a dead voice.

"Laverne, please," I said. "The police are holding Frank Gloriana. I don't know how much he'll tell them."

"What are you talking about?" she said listlessly.

I sighed and started away. I was almost at the screen door when she called, "Archy," and I turned back. Now she was sitting on the chaise, hunched over, head bowed. She was twirling the eye shield in nervous fingers.

"You really think you can keep my name out of it?" she asked, looking up at me.

"Laverne," I said, "let me be frank. ." Then I caught myself. "Oh lordy," I said, "don't let me be Frank!"

She smiled for the first time.

"Look," I said, "Frank is not a stand-up guy. He's liable to tell the police you talked him into it, that he went along because he was in love with you."

Then she frowned. "That's crazy. How could he say that? The ransom notes were written on his word processor."