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

from and found him wandering about, still unattached. Poor Binky.
    “Did you find her?” he shouted.
    “I did. And I need a favor, Binky.”
    “That’s what I’m here for, Archy.”
    I didn’t remind him of his earlier reason for being here and figured he must have given up all hope in that direction. As luck would have it, he had come with a friend, so he could drive Veronica’s car to my place while his friend followed in Binky’s car. I told him what I wanted him to do, but not why, and gave him Veronica’s car keys and a description of her wheels.
    “Neat,” Binky commented.
    “Mercedes-Benz thinks so, too, Binky.”
    “Is this a case, Archy?” he asked again, hopefully. Binky enjoys playing Watson to my Sherlock.
    “The game is afoot, my boy.”
    With that, I headed for the door, wondering if Veronica Manning would ever express sympathy at the demise of her stepfather.

5
    I TOLD VERONICA MANNING everything I knew of the events that had taken place in her home after she had left for the evening. She listened with a stony silence that remained for a long time as we drove north. The A1A was now even emptier of cars than on my trip down. Sitting in the passenger seat, my jacket draped over her shoulders and her eyes fixed on the road, the sophisticated lady of impeccable dress and one-on-one encounters now looked more like a bewildered child in need of a champion but not a handkerchief. No one could accuse the Manning women of overreacting.
    When I had led her to my car she was shivering, and I suspected the condition was due to shock and the brevity of her dress. Archy the gallant had immediately offered his jacket. Now, driving in my shirtsleeves, I realized her condition could also have been due to the early-morning temperature, but being a loyal Floridian I refused to turn on the Miata’s heater.
    “Do you have a cigarette?” These were the first words she spoke since my disclosure.
    “No. But you do.”
    Without hesitation she dug into my jacket pockets until she found what she was looking for. “What are these?”
    “English Ovals,” I informed her. “You’ll like them.”
    “Do you want one?”
    “Please.”
    She put two cigarettes between her lips, struck a match, lighted both, and passed one to me. “I saw a man do this in a movie on the late, late show,” Veronica said.
    “The man was Paul Henreid and the woman he handed the lit cigarette to was Bette Davis.”
    “I didn’t like him,” Veronica announced.
    “Paul Henreid?”
    “Don’t be arch, Archy.”
    I don’t think “arch” was the word she wanted, but rather than put a damper on her clever rebuttal I kept my opinion to myself. Besides, there was an edge to her voice that told me this was not the time to engage in verbal sparring with Veronica Manning.
    “If you mean Geoff, one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, my dear.”
    “Why not?” She smoked, I noticed, without inhaling. The cigarette was merely a prop. Was her stiff upper lip also more show than substance? There was a lot to be learned about this young lady and I imagined the lessons would be sheer delight.
    “I don’t know why not. It just isn’t done,” I told her.
    “My stepfather did many things that just aren’t done.”
    “Your mother never complained.”
    “My mother was a fool. Did she ever give you that line about not frightening the horses on Main Street?”
    “As a matter of fact, she did.”
    “Don’t rock the boat. Don’t rattle the beads. Leave well enough alone. Less said, soonest mended. Those are some other tenets my mother swore by. She knew what he was up to, but instead of tossing him out on his behind, she pretended it didn’t matter as long as he didn’t frighten the horses on Main Street. When her own eyes blew the cover on her denial, the volcano finally erupted.”
    Melva’s daughter sounded like a cross between a page out of a Psychology 101 text and a lawyer summing up the defense’s case.
    “Maybe she loved him. Did