Breaking his silence for the second and last time, he said, “The only stupid thing I did was remember your name.” Then he turned his back on me.
Outside I spotted Al Rogoff, but we did not communicate. Due to the delicate nature of our business we find it advantageous to keep our friendship under wraps when in public and especially on Al’s home turf.
It was absolutely necessary for Al to tell his superior of our last conversation and Lieutenant Eberhart’s reaction, grateful though he was, exemplifies the prudence of this artifice.
I could not see Gillian Wright as she was making a statement. I could imagine her trashing mommy, putting the gun in Silvester’s hand, and pleading guilty of being abused by the one and manipulated by the other. If she gave a jury of her peers as good a performance as she had given me this morning, and if she only aided and abetted in the act of matricide, she just might get off with a slap on the wrist. Would she write a book? I must remember to tell her to refrain from mentioning me as I don’t like to be wrote about.
I did see Zack Ward.
“I’m sitting on the biggest story of the century and I can’t get to a phone,” he griped.
My, wasn’t he concerned for the fate of his sweetheart. When he held Gillian’s hand, all he was doing was hanging on to a story. Poor, poor Gillian. Tell me,” I asked him, ‘did you believe Sabrina’s story about a former rich lover in Palm Beach?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. I was along for the ride. If we struck pay dirt I had the scoop. If we didn’t I could get an exclusive with Sabrina.”
“What did you think when Sabrina got a call from Gillian’s father?”
Ward grinned. “Was it Jill’s father? Only Rob was so certain. Truth is, I thought Sabrina was getting it on with some young dude. That was her thing, you know, young hunks.”
“Silvester didn’t mind?”
“Why should he? He had a few bimbos on the side.” Tabloid reporters sure do tell it like it is.
Fearing the worst, I said, “Not Gillian, I hope.”
“No way. Jill is in love with me,” came the modest retort.
“And you never found Daddy Warbucks,” I said by way of an exit line.
“But I came up with something interesting,” he divulged. “Just about thirty years ago this rich kid named Harry Schuyler gave some wild parties in his hotel suite in Fort Lauderdale during the spring-break craze. The police raided one of them for dope.
It was all pot then, remember? All the kids were hauled in and this Schuyler’s father posted bail for the lot.
“I’d like to check the Fort Lauderdale police blotter for an account of the raid and see if Sabrina Wright was one of the guests. Good angle for my piece and who knows where it might lead?”
I knew exactly where it would lead because this is where I came in so I left.
“The husband did it,” herb called as I passed him on my way to the elevator. “The daughter made a statement. She was in on it. It’s on CNN,” herb keeps a television, the size of a postage stamp, in his kiosk.
Mrs. Trelawney was about to tell me much the same thing, but I stopped her with, “I was at the police station when the girl talked.”
She was most impressed but for the wrong reason. “You went to the police station in a yellow raw-silk jacket? I’m surprised they didn’t arrest you.”
“Watch your tongue, Mrs. Trelawney; the mater and pater purchased this handsome coat on their travels. Is the master in his lair?”
“He is and he told me to let him know the moment you arrived.”
“The moment has come,” I said, and tapped gently on father’s office door.
When I heard, “Come,” I entered a time warp.
Father’s office could double as a set for a nineteenth-century film and I have long suspected that a framed photo of Queen Victoria is hastily removed whenever the door opens. For this reason, one must always knock.
“Well,” father said, ‘you are saved from having to make your momentous decision. I’ve heard the news.”
Taking a chair, I answered, “I am very relieved, sir, but not overjoyed at the outcome.”
Father, in a blue suit with vest and regimental tie I do not believe he is authorized to wear, nodded solemnly. “Yes, a terrible business, but I’m glad it’s over and you are still with us.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Were you instrumental in breaking the case, Archy?”
“Let’s say I helped.”
“Fine. With the Sabrina Wright murder taking up all the news these past two days, something that should be of interest to you slipped through the cracks.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Harry Schuyler has been hospitalized with a stroke.”
Astonished, I asked, “When?”
“Saturday night as he was getting dressed to go out. I understand the situation is not life-threatening and that he is expected to make as much of a recovery as possible for a man in his condition.”
Kismet, I thought. Was Harry’s stroke responsible for Sabrina’s death?
Had he showed up, would it have deterred her avengers or would Harry have saved them the trouble? “I’m sorry to hear that,” I responded, not sure if I meant it.
In his business-as-usual tone, father said, “That girl you were telling me about, Bianca Courtney, was it?”
This was a surprise. “That’s her name, sir. Why do you ask?”
“You said the woman she worked for left her money to charity and not her husband. Is that correct?”
“It is,” I assured him.
“Well, Archy, when I heard this I immediately thought the situation was not what it seemed but wanted to check my facts, which I did first thing this morning, and I was right.”
“Right, sir? About what?”
“In the state of Florida, a surviving spouse has a right to claim up to thirty percent of the estate regardless of the designated legatee.
Thirty percent of a large fortune amounts to millions of dollars. I would check to see if the husband has contacted a lawyer and begun proceedings.”
That evening, alone in my penthouse, I poured myself a marc, lit my first and last English Oval of the day, and made the final entry in my journal regarding the case of “The Man That Got Away.” Then I called Al Rogoff at his home. When he picked up I could hear Vivaldi in the background.
“She talked?” I said.
Talked? Archy, the broad won’t shut up. She’s coming on as a witness for the prosecution against Silvester.”
“Don’t worry when Silvester’s lawyer gets here he’ll have his say. He’s very smart to keep silent till then.”
Would Silvester raise the father issue? It could hurt him more than help him and it was his word against Gillian’s. Ward could be the deciding factor, saying they all believed Sabrina had made up the father tale without actually perjuring himself. He could say their search was an excuse to get away from Sabrina. When Sabrina followed them here it infuriated Gillian and with a little prodding from Silvester, who has a girl in the woodpile, the infamous deed was conceived. Yes, I think that’s how it would play out, with Silvester taking the fall.
“Your boss read me the riot act, Al; sorry about that.”
“Screw him, Archy. Between the two of us we have him looking like a hero. I ain’t worried.”
“I have another lead for you, Al.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
Tony Gilbert,” I said.
“I don’t want to hear it, Archy.”
I told him anyway and, except for Vivaldi, was rewarded with silence.
“I would exhume the body and have the forensic boys go over that barbell with a fine tooth comb.”
