McNally's Chance (31 page)

Playing the arbitrator, I offered, “If you would all calm down a moment, maybe we can work this out to everyone’s satisfaction,” It was pure swagger, but it did get their attention. “Rob, why don’t you tell me what’s been happening here this past week. I mean what was Sabrina doing we all know what Jill and Zack were up to.”

Silvester told me in detail that Sabrina was nervous, edgy, and short-tempered with all of them since they had settled into The Breakers. She pleaded with Gillian to give up her search and return to New York. She promised Ward an exclusive for his rag if he could talk Gillian into returning home.

“She saw Gillian’s father three times,” Silvester said.

“You’re just guessing,” Gillian interrupted.

“One at a time,” I reminded the girl. To Silvester, I said, “An informant told me that you told the police Sabrina went driving at night for creative inspiration.”

“When they found her, I got the call,” Silvester started to explain. “I went to the station house and Jill stayed here with Zack. They asked me what Sabrina was doing out alone at that hour and I didn’t want to tell them until I had talked to Jill, so I made up that story.”

“There,” the girl pounced, ‘you wanted my permission to tell them and I won’t give it to you, so why don’t we stick to your original story? My father didn’t do it.”

“Do you know who your father is?” I asked her.

“You know I don’t,” she said.

“Then you don’t know what he is capable of doing or what circumstances might have driven him to the limit,” I stated, beginning to feel empathy with Robert Silvester.

On the brink of more tears, she sobbed, “It’s too horrible to be true.”

The clever reporter looked at me and asked, “Do you know who her father is, Mr. McNally?”

One of the few perks of the situation made it possible for me to answer honestly in the negative.

Determined to finish his story, Silvester was saying, “Sabrina received three calls last week. She went out at night after each one of them. I asked her where she was going, but she refused to tell me. I had no doubt that it was to meet Jill’s father.”

“How could he know what was going on?” Gillian said.

“Really,” I answered for Silvester. “Between Lolly’s gossip column and your snooping around the library and calling newspaper editors he would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know.”

“I think,” Silvester said, ‘that Sabrina tried to assure him that she would keep his secret and that she would take Jill home. Zack’s profession had also become common knowledge because Zack can’t refrain from showing people his press card. You can imagine how Mr. Anonymous felt about that.”

“I show my card when I have to,” Ward said. If Gillian wasn’t clinging to his hand, I believe he would have hauled off and hit Silvester.

Unperturbed, Silvester continued, “Sabrina was not a diplomat and I think the guy lost patience in their last meeting.”

It was clear they all believed only one man was involved. Would I have to tell the police differently, naming all three? How would Gillian react to that? Silvester? Zack Ward would love it. Would the men be forced to give a blood sample? Would the doctor go on national television holding an envelope and emote, “And the winner is…”

But now that Cranston and Appleton were in the clear did I have to name them? Couldn’t I just cut to Harry Schuyler? I didn’t know. But either choice would result in a betrayal of Sabrina’s bargain.

“Lost patience,” Gillian ridiculed. “Lost patience and took mother’s jewelry and money? It was a common thief. We would only be helping the murderer if we force the police to look elsewhere.”

“How would the police find your father?” Ward asked, as usual making the most sense. If we couldn’t find him, how will they?”

“That’s not the point,” she answered. “If we confess everything to the police the media will have a field day with it and my father will think that we are accusing him. That I believe he’s guilty. He would never agree to meet with me.”

“Which he has no intention of doing anyway, Jill.” Silvester seemed to take great pleasure in reminding his stepdaughter of her father’s reluctance to come forward. “I think that should be perfectly clear to you by now. We have to tell the police what we know.” Silvester looked at his watch. “The time has come to go down and face those reporters.”

My steroid al hormones were telling me the time had come to beat a hasty retreat. I began to withdraw slowly, shortening the distance between my back and the door.

“What do you suggest we tell the press, Mr. McNally?”

“No comment,” I suggested.

“Would you like to come to the police station with us?” Silvester invited.

“No, thanks. I have my car.”

“What will you tell the police?” Gillian called.

I had reached the door and opened it before replying, “The truth.”

“No,” she moaned. “No, no, no.”

I went directly to an accommodation phone and dialed Al Rogoff. If he was there I vowed to have no more than one cigarette a day for the next year.

“Palm Beach Police, Sergeant Rogoff speaking.”

And I learned firsthand the peril of answered prayers. Al, it’s Archy.”

Archy, where have you been? Sabrina Wright’s family is on the way here and the lieutenant wants to speak to you before he sees them.”

“Indulge me, Al, and refresh my memory. You told me no one knew that Sabrina had been relieved of her cash and her baubles. Does no one include her husband, Robert Silvester?”

“Yeah. We didn’t tell him nothing. He told us what she was wearing and he made a brief statement. That would be about three o’clock Sunday morning.”

“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.”

Twenty-Five.

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.

“Zack Ward, a tabloid reporter, was a dividend sent from heaven.

Gillian and Zack came to Palm Beach in search of daddy and up went the curtain.”

They needed an investigator to snoop around and spread the word and Silvester remembered me. He comes after Gillian, breaks contact with Sabrina, and she comes looking for the both of them. Silvester has already told Sabrina he will elicit my help in finding Gillian, therefore Sabrina contacts me upon arrival.

“It was you who tipped Lolly Spindrift, wasn’t it? You told him Sabrina was here looking for a man and that was the match that lit the fuse. How did you know when and where Sabrina arrived? Now it’s perfectly clear. Like a dutiful husband you called her travel agent in New York.

“Then Gillian, with the unsuspecting Zack, starts her search with all the fanfare of a marching band. Were you surprised when Sabrina got that first call and went off to meet the man you believed to be Gillian’s father?”