Lawrence Sanders - McNally's chance

“Could he have seen the jewelry missing when he saw the body?”

“He didn’t see it,” Al said. “The body went straight to the morgue. We knew who it was because of the car and the photo on her driver’s license, which was in her purse. The formal ID and grilling is set for today. How come you’re asking about them gems? We got a screwy call from some cheap rag up north this morning. They wanted to know if we could give them an estimate of the value of the missing jewelry. The lieutenant blew a fuse. So who leaked it?”

“Zack Ward. Sabrina’s daughter’s boyfriend. He works for that cheap rag.”

“So how does he know?”

“The murderers told him, Al.”

That got his attention. “You said ‘murderers!” Archy?”

“That’s right. The plural of murderer.”

“I don’t need no English lesson, pal. You on the level?”

“Trust me with this one,” I said. “The only people other than the police and this ignoramus investigator who knew that money and jewels were missing are the people who took them. Gillian Wright knows because she told me so and Silvester didn’t seem a bit surprised by the fact. When they get to the palace, Al, separate them posthaste.”

“You telling us how to run the show, Archy?”

“I think Zack Ward is a patsy. But he can tell you who told him about the missing loot and I can corroborate.”

It was to Al’s professional credit that he took my news calmly, silently digesting the facts before acting upon them. “Good,” he said,

‘the lieutenant will still want to see you.”

“I’ll be there, pal.”

Inspired by a flash of diabolical naughtiness I was unable to resist, I dialed Arnold Turnbolt. Arnold is secretary to Mrs. John Fairhurst, a PB matron on all the “A’ lists. Arnie doubles as Mrs. Fairhurst’s private ‘walker, a labor of love for which he is compensated by a tailor-made tux in which to strut about the best homes on the island.

Arnie is also a film buff nonpareil with an impressive collection of movie memorabilia, like old movie-house showcase stills and the official wedding photo of Alice Faye and Tony Martin, whose marriage was so brief neither party seemed to remember it in later years. When the actress Debbie Reynolds visited PB to speak at the Mary Rubloff YWCA Harmony House luncheon she saw Arnie’s collection and tried to snare a few items for her movie museum. If anyone could help me, it was Arnie.

“Fairhurst residence,” Arnie announced.

Archy McNally here.”

Archy, how are you? Long time no see.”

“Busy days, Arnie.”

“Sabrina Wright,” he said. “What a scandal. According to Lolly you were her main man. What do you know?”

“No time now, Arnie. I’m calling to ask if you have a mock statue of Oscar.”

“You mean the Academy Award Oscar? No, but I wish I did. When an actress, who shall be nameless, pawned hers I tried to get it out of hock, but the ghouls with deep pockets got there first. Why do you need one?”

“I want to present it to a young lady,” I confessed. “She just gave the performance of her life, and I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

“Is she Hollywood bound?” Arnie asked.

“No. In fact, she’s on her way to twenty-five years to life without parole.”

“You know the nicest people, Archy.”

“It’s my star quality that attracts ‘em. Thanks, anyway, Arnie, and if you drop in at the Pelican tomorrow night, I’ll stand you a drink for your trouble.”

“You got a date, Mr. McNally.”

.

Wanting to give the police and their suspects time to get acquainted, I lunched before driving to the station house. My gourmet meal consisted of two slices of pizza topped with pepperoni and washed down with a bottle of commercial beer. This gave me time to reflect on the events of the past week and the circumstances that had shaped them. In that week a life had been snuffed out and two others would pay the piper with theirs. But the real story went back thirty years. An unwanted pregnancy resulting in an overbearing mother and a virago wife. Sabrina Wright had ruled her kingdom like a tyrant and there would be those who said she got what she deserved. Not this observer. Daughter and husband were not indentured servants. They could have walked away, but refused to leave all that moola and privilege behind. Oppression was their excuse, greed their motive.

At the end of every case you look back and rue all the stupid mistakes you made from the start. You gather information, draw conclusions, and drive merrily up the garden path, never noticing the tow line attached to your front fender.

The television vans and the reporters, including Lolly Spindrift, had followed Sabrina’s family to the precinct. Lolly waylaid me as soon as I got out of the Miata.

“What’s happening, Archy? And remember, you owe me big,” he hassled.

“The police will have a statement for the press shortly and I will give you an interview when they do,” I promised. I moved past him and the others who now recognized me, thanks to Lolly’s reception.

I entered the palace without my statuette and was immediately grateful for Arnie’s inability to provide one when I was greeted by an officer bearing the name tag “Lieutenant Oscar Eberhart.” The gods move in mysterious ways and, as mother often said of life’s disappointments,

“Everything happens for the best.”

2U’m going to overlook Sergeant Rogoff’s telling you what you have no business knowing because it’s saved us mucho time, trouble, and embarrassment,” Oscar said. “If he does it again, it’ll cost him his badge.”p›

“Thank you, sir.” I tried to sound humble, which was difficult under the circumstances. I did crack the case. “Have they made a statement?”

“The reporter, Ward, told us the husband and the girl told him about the missing jewels and cash. When we confronted them with it they clammed up. I think the girl will crack, but this Silvester won’t budge. He called some big-shot lawyer in New York and the guy is on his way here.”

“I can corroborate Ward’s story,” I said.

“So Rogoff tells me.” Oscar didn’t seem particularly pleased with my offer. “We’re getting a warrant to search their rooms at the hotel. If the jewels Silvester described turn up we can hold the one who’s hiding them until a judge sets ball. The reporter is innocent. He talked, never knowing that he had incriminated the pair. He can go as soon as we’ve gone over his room, but he’ll have to stay in Palm Beach until we issue a formal indictment.”

“Can I see Silvester?”

“Ten minutes, but only because he might open up to you. There’s a guard in the room with him. If you can get him to talk, the guard will get me.”

It was a small room containing a table, four chairs, a uniformed policeman, and Robert Silvester. “Nice try,” I said.

He told me what I could go do to myself, which, as we all know, is a physical impossibility.

I sat opposite him. “How long have you and Gillian been plotting to get rid of Sabrina?”

I was again told to do the impossible, so I answered my own question.

The two of them must have said, “I could kill her, often enough for the empty threat to become a conspiracy. Perhaps a joke at first, devising means and opportunity, they were suddenly handed both when Sabrina made her confession to the girl. How simple. Gillian goes in search of her father who is reluctant to come out of hiding and the man must silence the only person who can finger him.

“I’m sure it was your idea,” I said. “Gillian is the actress. You’re the writer and director. When you told me she had attended drama school I should have paid closer attention. I also should have asked you how you managed to find the girl and Zack Ward so soon after arriving in Palm Beach. Now we know the seemingly chance meeting was prearranged.