McNally's Folly by Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo Read Free Book Online Page B

the office or, at the very latest, over lunch. Freddy’s broadcast being a direct result of an investigation Father had initiated was my consolation but not my salvation. The sire would demand an explanation and right now I had none to offer. But then I function poorly on an empty stomach.
    “What would you like for breakfast, Archy, or do you want me to surprise you?” Ursi asked.
    “Surprise me, Ursi, but don’t shock me. I had my fill of that last night.”
    I was served four slices of Ursi Olson’s marvelous French toast (made with thick-cut challah) with honey-apricot preserve and a pot of black coffee. Happily sated, I expressed my gratitude by saying to our housekeeper, “Will I ever find a wife who can cook like you?”
    “There’s a cover for every pot, Archy,” came her sage reply. I wondered what Consuela Garcia would think of that.
    As I prepared to take my leave, Jamie chastised his newspaper with, “You forgot to mention Kate Mulligan.”
    This stopped me cold. “Who, or what, is Kate Mulligan?”
    “Dear lord,” Ursi complained, “what with the second honeymoon and the voodoo man it’s a wonder I can remember my own name. Kate Mulligan, Archy, is the woman your father hired to tend to the garden while he and your mother are away. Praise be I don’t have to do it as I don’t have the green thumb, whatever that means.”
    Disappointed that Kate Mulligan was not a new stew we might be having for dinner, I asked, “When is she expected, Ursi?”
    “Momentarily. I’m to send her directly to the greenhouse to meet with Mrs. McNally.”
    Which was just where I was headed. Outdoors my spirits were immediately lifted by a perfectly smashing day. Warm sun, cloudless blue sky and an exhilarating sea breeze that was as welcoming as a kiss. Mother smiled when she saw me approach. “How splendid you look, Archy,” she exclaimed.
    How nice that she should notice, as I was wearing one of my favorite outfits. Fawn silk slacks, a plum-colored Sea Island cotton knit shirt, a dark green linen sport coat and Cordovan loafers, sans socks. I kissed her rosy cheek in gratitude as she told me the plant she was administering to with TLC was called an Eyelash begonia. At last count, mother had six million varieties of begonias. Could this Eyelash be six million and one?
    “Mother, do you remember the actor Turhan Bey?”
    “Oh, yes, Archy. He was so good in The Rains of Ranchipur .”
    “No, Mother, that was Richard Burton beneath a thick layer of pancake makeup.”
    “Are you sure, dear?”
    “Yes, Mother. Turhan Bey’s big move was Dragon Seed. ”
    “It wasn’t Dragonwyck ?”
    “No, Mother, that was Vincent Price.”
    “Oh, Archy, how do you keep all that straight in your head?”
    “Perhaps because I have so little else in there.”
    “Don’t say that, Archy. You must never sell yourself short. Your Father is very proud of you even though he may not always show it.”
    I don’t know how proud Father would be when he learned I had tuned in to Freddy and an exotic called Lolly Pops for the likes of the Fairhursts and Tremaines to gloat over.
    “I can remember the day you were born,” Mother said, “but I can’t tell you what I had for breakfast an hour ago.”
    “I imagine my arrival was more interesting than Ursi’s French toast.”
    “Yes, French toast. How did you guess?”
    I refrained from pulling the psychic act but was spared the need to answer when Mother cried, “Here she is and I forgot her name.”
    Turning, I saw a woman exiting our back door with Ursi behind her, pointing the way to our modest greenhouse. “Her name, Mother, is Kate Mulligan and aren’t you the grand dame with your own gardener. What next? Your personal lady in waiting?”
    “Oh, Archy, I certainly hope not. I would keep forgetting her name. And having someone come in to tend my garden was a condition of my going on this trip. I’m doing it to please your father and because I know he needs the