McNally's Dilemma by Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo Read Free Book Online

“Let’s go outside, Veronica. I’ll explain everything.”
    “Something’s happened to my mother. Please, Archy, what is it?” Apprehension was fast giving way to hysteria.
    Taking a firm grip on her arm, I began to lead her from the room. Before her young swain could follow, I looked over my shoulder and told him to stay put. “It’s a family matter, and I’m taking Veronica home. No need to see us out.”
    Veronica cut his protest short. “I’m going with Archy,” she said. “Please don’t interfere. I’ll be fine.” If he had a name she never spoke it, and it occurred to me that she might know him as well as I did.
    As we passed through the doorway I caught the scent of her perfume. Its aroma was very exotic, very arousing, and, surely, very expensive. Walking side by side, I was aware of her height—the top of her blond hair, parted on the left, came well past my shoulder and I doubted that she was wearing high heels. Melva’s little girl had truly grown up.
    As we went from the dark passage into the somewhat better-illuminated entrance foyer, I could see that she was wearing a sleeveless ice-blue sheath, knee length, with a scoop neckline and no jewelry. She didn’t need any. Her flawless complexion, blue eyes, and sensuous lips would have dimmed the Hope Diamond. A brief year had transformed Melva’s darling from a cute teenager to a ravishing woman.
    When I recovered and was sure I could speak with some semblance of authority, I pointed to her smart Judith Leiber minaudière, suspended from her shoulder by a gold chain. “Your car keys in there?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Let me have them.”
    She stopped short and shook her hand free of my arm. “I will not. And I won’t take another step until you tell me what this is all about.”
    Actually, I couldn’t blame her for drawing a line on my intrusion into her life. I had invaded this den of iniquity, interrupted her one-on-one with the shadow, and now I demanded the keys to her car. I owed her an explanation and decided to give it to her without preamble or apology. Knowing that it was impossible to be overheard, I blurted, “Geoff is dead. Your mother shot him.”
    She froze. Her eyes held mine like two blue agates. I feared she had stopped breathing and hoped I wouldn’t have to slap her face, as they do in the movies, to bring her back to the land of the living. I was relieved when she finally mumbled incredulously, “Tell me this is a nightmare, Archy.”
    “I wish I could, my dear, but it isn’t. I’m here, you’re here, and Geoff is very dead.” If I sounded a bit glib, it was only because I didn’t know how else to sound. Telling a young woman that her mother had just committed murder was an all-time first for Archy McNally, and may it never happen again.
    “I want to go home,” Veronica stated.
    “Not tonight, Veronica. There’s no one there except a team of policemen doing their job.” And poor Hattie, I didn’t add, with her fist in her mouth.
    “Where’s my mother, Archy?”
    “By now, in custody, I’m sure.”
    “I want to be with her,” she insisted.
    “You can’t. At least not now. You’re spending the night with me.” Under any other circumstances the statement would have been embarrassingly suggestive. Here it came off as a declaration of fact, nothing less and surely nothing more.
    “Tell me what happened, Archy.”
    “I will, on the way home. Now please give me your car keys.”
    “Why?”
    “I have a friend here. He’ll drive your car home. You, as I said, will come with me.”
    She obeyed meekly. “What are you driving, Veronica?”
    “Mercedes convertible.”
    Knowing the young set of Palm Beach, I imagined there was more than one Mercedes convertible parked at Hillcrest. “Color?”
    “Silver with a blue canvas top.”
    She handed me the keys and, certain she couldn’t leave without me, I told her to wait for me outside the front door. I elbowed my way into the room I had seen Binky emerge