“Why Palm Beach?”
With a gesture that said she had gone this far so why not go all the way, she answered, “Because I told her she was conceived here and that her father still lived here. At the time, I was in Fort Lauderdale on spring break. Gillian’s father was slumming.”
“Zack notwithstanding, why, after all this time, are you reluctant to tell Gillian who her father is?”
“Because I struck a bargain, Mr. McNally, and I intend to comply with the rules. I was given a great deal of money by my paramour, as I told you. Enough to raise my daughter in style and live a life that granted me the time and the experience to write and become the darling of publishers as well as investment bankers.” Sticking out her chin, she added, “And I will go to any length to honor his anonymity. Any length,” she repeated.
“What are the odds of Gillian and Zack finding what they came looking for?”
A million to one, but even those odds are too close for comfort. That’s why I sent Robert to see what they were up to and to wheedle Jill into returning home.”
I forgot all about the missing Robert. “Is he Robert Wright?”
“No, he’s Robert Silvester, but he is my Mr. Right. Robert is my editor and was fresh out of college when they assigned him to my first book. You know how it is with a first book. When we weren’t lunching together, we were on the phone. To cut expenses, he moved in. When Darling Desire was published to great acclaim we celebrated by eloping to Las Vegas.”
As she filled me in on her marital exploits, I began doing a little arithmetic. She was eighteen when she had Gillian, who was nearing thirty. That would mean
Sabrina Wright was nearing fifty. Sofia had told me that Sabrina’s first novel came out about a dozen years ago when Robert Silvester was fresh out of college. Unless he was a dolt, which I doubted, that would make him closer in age to Gillian than to his wife.
Interesting.
“Robert made a reservation at the Chesterfield,” she went on, ‘and checked in four days ago. He called me the night he arrived. The following evening he called to say he had found them and was dining with them that evening. He said he would call when he got back to the hotel, but he never did.”
“Did he say where he found them?”
“I’m afraid not. There was really no reason to ask.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“Yes. When I was connected to his room, it just rang and rang. I left a message for him to call me when he got in, but he never called. I hoped he was still with Gillian, trying to talk some sense into her.
When he didn’t call the next day I again called the Chesterfield. They told me Mr. Silvester had checked out that morning. I couldn’t imagine what had happened but hoped he might be on his way back to New York, although that didn’t seem possible. I mean he would have called me before leaving. When I didn’t hear from him that day I flew down here the next day, yesterday. So now I’m at the Chesterfield.”
“Have you questioned them about your husband?”
“Not directly. I’m sure they don’t know Robert is my husband. I just asked them if Mr. Silvester was still registered. I told them he was a friend and that I knew he was going to be in Palm Beach this week.
They said he had been there but had left. I asked if he had left a forwarding address and they told me he had not. I didn’t want to seem too interested.
“I’m sitting on a time bomb, Mr. McNally. My daughter is here with that awful Zack, looking for her father, and now my husband, who was here looking for my daughter, has disappeared into thin air. If any of this gets out it will create a cause celebre that will be heard around the world.”
And sell a lot of books. I hated to start the clock ticking on that time bomb, but I thought the lady should know that Lolly Spindrift had not only announced her arrival but had also alluded to Robert’s disappearance. This had her reaching for another cigarette without benefit of holder. She was so quick on the draw she had it lit before Chauncey could strike a match. “I don’t see how…”
“I do. Lolly must have a shill at the Chesterfield who happened to be at the desk when you arrived and heard you inquire about Mr. Silvester.
Maybe no one at the hotel knows Robert is your husband, but I’m sure Lolly does, dot, dot, dot.”
“The man that got away,” she moaned. “Do you realize that if Gillian’s father sees that item he will think I’m in Palm Beach in search of him?”
She had a point. Not knowing Sabrina’s husband was missing, Gillian’s sire would surely think he was the man that got away especially since he was.
Sabrina’s concern also confirmed that Gillian’s father was alive and well and living in Palm Beach.
She put her hand on mine. It was ice-cold. The lady was truly frightened. “Will you help me, Mr. McNally?”
Sabrina took one look at my fire-engine-red Miata and opted to take a cab back to her hotel. Smart move. While she was not exactly traveling incognito, neither was she here on a book-signing tour, and my car, unlike my professional methods, is more Palm Beach kitsch than discreet, but it does keep me amused. In this world of card-carrying terrorists, West Nile virus-carrying mosquitos, and E.coli-carrying cows, I zip happily along in my Miata like there’s no tomorrow, because there’s a good chance there won’t be one.
I told Sabrina to sit tight and I would be in touch. I didn’t know when, or what I would have to offer when I did, but that is, after all, the standard line when parting with a distressed client. It gives them hope and me a chance to ruminate over the facts and a bite of lunch. I decided to take the case, that is, try to locate Robert Silvester, for two reasons.
The first one was because I liked the lady. She had what show folks call pizzazz. It’s a word, like pornography, that’s hard to define but you know it when you see it. Having been handed a golden parachute and tossed out of the family Cessna, she refused to sink, meekly, into the abyss. Against all odds, she had defied gravity and soared. Instead of disappearing, she had literally lit up the sky with her talent and a zillion book covers with her startled gaze. What’s not to like?
Reason numero two? Greed or did you think I was about to O.D. on altruism? My father takes great pride in the abundance of moneyed names, both old and new moola, on McNally amp; Son’s client roster. Were I to be responsible for adding Sabrina Wright to that list it would go a long way in mitigating my trespasses at Yale, lo, those twenty years ago, as I have long forgiven those who trespassed against me. Now, like the message inscribed on a sundial, I number only the sunny hours.
I crossed from West Palm into the land of conspicuous consumption via the Flagler Memorial Bridge and then along Royal Poinciana Way, passing golfers on The Breakers Ocean Golf Course, all consuming conspicuously, before heading up Ocean Boulevard, alias the A1A. I believe everything Sabrina Wright told me was true. What wasn’t said was what she didn’t want me to know, such as who had introduced her to Discreet Inquiries.
If it was a former client, that person could or could not still be living in Palm Beach. Was it this former client who also recommended that we rendezvous at a pub where we were least likely to be seen by those who matter in the Town of Palm Beach, or had Sabrina programmed a list of such joints into her computer for when the need arose, be it for the writing business or monkey business?
The idea that her Palm Beach confidant might be Gillian’s father also crossed my mind. If Sabrina had broken her part of the bargain and contacted him, perhaps to warn him of Gillian’s arrival, he may have given her my name should the need arise. She had said that she would go to any length to honor his anonymity. To what length would he go to make sure she did?