Lawrence Sanders - McNally's chance

“With his kind I imagine what we know only scratches the surface. I think Sabrina Wright had something on him that no one in the world knows.”

Out of the mouths of babes, I pondered. “And you think he did her in, Ursi?”

“Him or the one she was after. Her daughter knows who it was. Why it’s like a Sabrina Wright novel without the romance.”

My eggs and sausages were placed before me and, forgetting to tell Ursi I wanted dry rye toast, I was handed a generously buttered English muffin. Having been taught to eat what is served without making a fuss, I did just that.

I went to the greenhouse to have a word with mother before I left. I do this as often as time will allow because I enjoy seeing her in the joyful serenity she derives from administering TLC to her beloved blossoms. The dappled light coming through the tinted glass cast her in a warm glow and when she looked up at my entrance I noticed a smudge of brown earth on her perpetually blushing cheek. Her apron was also stained, her hair slightly ruffled, and her smile endearing. It was a picture I would cherish all my life.

“Oh, Archy, your new jacket, and it’s a perfect fit. I knew it would be.”

I wore the raw silk yellow jacket with a dark brown shirt and chinos.

“I dressed for you this morning, mother.” I said kissing her unsoiled cheek.

“How flattering. And see how much better my begonias look since I’ve been back. I told them all about our cruise.”

They did look rather perky on this lovely Palm Beach summer morning.

Blue sky, bright sun, and a refreshing ocean breeze that promised not to forsake us by noon. “Father told me how much you enjoyed it.”

She frowned. “Between us, Archy, it wasn’t all that wonderful. Too much to eat and too much to do. What they have against only three proper meals a day and a good old lounge chair, I’ll never know. But your father needed to get away and even if he did call the office every day he managed to relax and unwind a bit, and that made it all worthwhile.”

Was this a marriage made in heaven? And how nice to be a by-product of the union. “He said he had a marvelous time, mother.”

She looked at me wistfully. “What are your plans today, Archy?”

“This and that. Nothing special.”

“You will be careful, son, won’t you?”

What was this all about? “I’m always careful, mother. Why the long face?”

“You are involved in the Sabrina Wright murder, aren’t you?”

I could not believe that father had told her and I have never known Ursi or Jamie to trouble mother with any gossip more malicious than reporting what Palm Beach matron had worn the same dress twice in one season. Seeing my quandary she said, “Your mother is not as sharp as she used to be, but she’s not ready for the recycling bin just yet.”

“If they recycled you, mother, what would you come back as?”

A begonia, what else?”

“Do your begonias tell tales out of school?”

She brushed back a stray curl and anointed her forehead with yet another smudge. “I saw Jamie whispering to your father when we were waiting for our luggage at the dock. Last night I decided to open up a few topics and see which I would not be allowed to pursue. Sabrina Wright’s murder was the obvious choice. Your father couldn’t be less interested in Binky’s housewarming than I am in growing roses.”

I laughed. Long concerned with her short-term memory loss and her torpid interludes, I was more relieved at this sudden burst of astuteness than in her knowing the truth. “Okay, Miss Marple, I did some work for the lady when she arrived in town and she was alive and well when the job was done. I was not connected to her at the time of her death.”

“Will the police want to question you?” she asked.

“I imagine they will, mother.”

Are you going to help them find the murderer?”

I could honestly answer in the negative because what I intended to do I would do on my own. “I am going to tell the police what I know and leave it to them.”

“I’m. so glad, Archy.”

“So am I, mother.” I gave her another peck on the cheek and made my way out of the greenhouse.

The stretch limo got on my tail the moment I pulled onto Ocean Boulevard. I picked up speed and raised my voice in song, “Three blind mice, three blind mice…”

I was tempted to lead him to the scene of the crime, but I didn’t fancy being CNN’s morning news breaker Would the guy shoot me in the bright light of day? No, he would have his driver do it. Taking my time I drove to an outdoor juice bar in Lake Worth. I pulled into the limited parking area and the limo joined me. I did not get out of the Miata.

If Dickey Cranston wanted me he could come and get me. If he sent his driver to invite me in I would hold my ground.

We played the brinkmanship game for a couple of minutes, which is a long time when you’re taking up space in an outdoor juice bar and not lapping up the papaya. I decided to give the future ambassador to the Court of St. James sixty seconds to make his intentions known, then I would be the man that got away. At the count of thirty the limo door opened, the passenger door that is, and Mohammed came to the mountain.

“What do you know?” he grunted before he was seated.

“I know that Sabrina is dead.”

“Thanks. I got the news yesterday, shortly after midnight.”

Had he made his first error? “Strange, because it didn’t hit the wire services until early yesterday morning.”

“Stop playing the clever dick, Archy. Washington never sleeps and I’m never out of touch. What do you know about it?”

“I know I had no reason to murder the woman,” I said.

“Implying that I did? Sorry, but I didn’t.”

Time and space precluded finessing around the bush. “Don’t tell me you weren’t relieved to hear that the only person who could name Gillian’s father was dead.”

“You look very much alive to me, Archy,” he shot back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

He was correct, as far as the supposition went. With Sabrina gone I was the only person who could name the contenders. What I could not do was crown the champ. Neither could Sabrina, but that didn’t prevent her from getting a bullet in her head.

Covering my back I told him, “I keep a journal, Dickey, and everything that passed between Sabrina Wright, you, and me, has been faithfully recorded. I willed it to Lolly Spindrift.”

He lit up. The Miata is not a stretch limo, therefore I was forced to have my first secondhand cigarette of the day. I rolled down my window, but Cranston didn’t seem to notice. He sucked on the filtered tip like it was the first one he had had in a year and wasn’t likely to get another in the near future. His hand was trembling, his forehead was wet and shiny, and his knee had suddenly developed a spastic tic.

Was he in the throes of withdrawal or scared out of his gourd?

“I didn’t kill Sabrina,” he said, ‘although I would have liked to when last we met. Fame and good fortune only made her more arrogant. And I have no intention of killing you. I’ve done some foolish things in my life, Archy, but I am not a fool. Killing Sabrina, or you, only draws attention to the problem. It solves nothing.

“With Sabrina alive there was a chance to ride this out. Now, every gossip in town is speculating on what she and her daughter were doing here. Looking for the girl’s natural mother? How long before someone trashes that myth? Then who is the girl looking for?”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. As none of them were idiots I couldn’t understand why one of them had pulled that trigger. It had to have been done in a fit of rage and just because Cranston was stressing the stupidity of the act didn’t mean he wasn’t the guilty party. As stated, he was no fool.