'But no name?'
'Nope.'
'So all you heard is that Laverne's Consenting Adult or Significant Other is a dude-correct?'
'Tall.'
'Ah-ha, a tall dude! Now we're making progress. Young? Old?'
'Half-and-half.'
'About my age, you think?'
'Mebbe.'
'Better and better. Now we've got a tall, half-and-half dude. Slender or fat?'
'Thin.'
'Dark or fair?'
'Darkish.'
'Handsome?'
'Mebbe, I guess she thinks so.'
'Excellent,' I said. I now had a tall, half-and-half, thin, darkish, handsome dude. There were many men in the Palm Beach area answering that description, including you-know-who.
I slipped Jamie a tenner for his enthusiastic cooperation. Then I went into my father's study and looked up the number of the Jo-Jean Motel on Federal Highway. I phoned and was greeted by a woman's voice.
'Jo-Jean,' she said, and I wondered which one she was.
'May I speak to Mr. Charles Girard?' I asked. 'South row, Cabin Four.'
'I know where he is,' she said crossly.
There was a clicking, the connection went through, and the ringing started. Nine times, I counted, before the phone was picked up.
'Yeh?' A man's voice, deep and thick.
'Mr. Charles Girard?'
'Yeh. Who's this?'
'Mr. Girard, this is the veterinarian who recently provided medical care for your cat. It is my custom to make follow-up calls regarding the animals I have treated to make certain they have recovered satisfactorily. No charge, of course. Let's see, your cat's name is, ah, Gertrude?'
'Peaches,' he said.
'Of course,' I said. 'It slipped my mind. And how is Peaches feeling, Mr. Girard?'
'She's okay.'
'Glad to hear it. Well, remember we're here to serve and ready to provide emergency medical care for your pet should it ever be needed. Thank you, Mr. Girard, and have a nice day.'
'Yeh,' he said and hung up.
I was enormously pleased with the results of my discreet inquiries that morning. I reckoned that if my good luck continued, before nightfall I might find Judge Crater and identify Jack the Ripper.
I boarded the Miata and started my journey to Federal Highway. I drove slowly, for I meant to beard Otto Gloriana in his den at the Jo-Jean Motel and needed to cobble up a believable scenario to justify my appearing on his doorstep. But I could think of no scam that wasn't sheer lunacy. I decided to trust my modest talent for improvisation.
I parked in the same area I had used before and walked back to the Jo-Jean office through the midday heat. The same woman I had spoken to previously was perched on the same high stool behind the same counter, bending over a newspaper. But at least the tabloid was different. The headline was 'Chef Slays Six With Spatula.'
'I beg your pardon,' I said, 'but is Mr. Girard in?'
'You just missed him,' she said, not looking up. 'Him and the missus drove out a coupla minutes ago.'
'Drat!' I said. 'He told me he was staying here. I haven't seen him in ages, and I came all the way from Fort Lauderdale hoping to surprise him. Is he still driving his Lincoln Continental?'
'Chrysler Imperial.'
'Ah, he must have traded in the Lincoln. And is his wife still the same tall, striking blonde?'
'Brunette. Chunky. Built like a bulldog.'
'Oh my!' I said, laughing merrily. 'Then I guess old Charlie traded in his first wife too. Did he say when he'd be back?'
'Nope.'
'Perhaps I'll just drive around awhile, see the sights, and return later. Thank you for your help.'
I thought I had been devilishly clever, but suddenly, without looking up, she said, 'You got a lot of information for free, didn't you?'
I sighed, took a twenty from my billfold, and placed it on the countertop. She plucked it away so swiftly that I swear the visage of Old Hickory seemed shocked.
I went out into the hot sunlight and wandered down to Cabin Four, south row. It was larger than I had imagined, but it was surely a decrepit structure, badly in need of painting-or a hand grenade.
A rusty air conditioner wheezed away in one window, and there was a dented deck chair on the sagging porch, the plastic webbing broken and hanging.
I stepped up to the door and knocked softly. No one opened it, but I heard a single plaintive meow. I put my lips close to the jamb and whispered, 'Do not despair, Peaches. The cavalry is on the way.'
Then I returned home, realizing that events were moving so rapidly that I needed to update my journal to make sure nothing was forgotten or ignored, no matter how trivial. But first I phoned Meg Trumble again, and this time she answered.
'Meg!' I said. 'Where on earth have you been? I've been trying to reach you for ages. I was beginning to get concerned.'
'Oh, Archy,' she said, her voice positively bubbling, 'I've been so busy. That list of names you gave me was a godsend. I've already visited four of them, and two are really interested in having a personal trainer. Isn't that wonderful!'
'Absolutely,' I said. 'How about dinner tonight?'
'Love to,' she said promptly. 'As a matter of fact, I called Laverne just minutes ago to ask if she'd like to eat with me tonight, but she has a meeting of the Current Affairs Society. Now I'm glad she couldn't make it; I'd much rather we have dinner together.'
'Ditto,' I said. 'Pick you up around seven?'
'Super,' she said. 'Can we go back to that Cafe Istanbul again? I loved it. 'Bye!'
I sat there a moment, adding two and two and coming up with five. To wit: Harry Willigan was out of town. His wife had a lover lurking in the wings. And Laverne couldn't join Meg for dinner because she had a meeting of the Current Affairs Society. Hah!
That Society is a Palm Beach association of men and women, mostly elderly, who meet once a month to hear a lecture on current affairs by a congressman, political science professor, repentant Communist, or the deposed dictator of a banana republic. The lecture would be followed by a Q amp;A period, and the meeting concluded with the serving of coffee and oatmeal cookies. My mother was a faithful member and had once served as sergeant at arms.
I went galloping downstairs and found the mater in the greenhouse, chatting to her begonias.
'I know it's hot,' she was saying, 'but it's summer, and you must keep your spirits up.'
'Hallo, luv,' I said, swooping to kiss her velvety cheek. 'And how is mommy baby feeling today?'
'Oh my,' she said, 'you are in a chipper mood. Are you in love again, Archy?'
'Quite possibly,' I acknowledged. 'I do feel strange stirrings about the heart, but of course it could be the onion sandwich I had for lunch. Listen, Mrs. McNally, do you have a meeting of the Current Affairs Society tonight?'
She paused, sprinkling can in hand, to look at me, puzzled. 'Why, no,' she said. 'The next meeting isn't until July fifteenth. Why do you ask?'
'Just confused,' I said. 'As usual. See you for cocktails, but I have a dinner date tonight.'
'Good for you,' she said, beaming. 'Someone nice, I hope.'
'I hope so too,' I said.
