“Interesting, Reggie. What do you have in mind?”
“We want to support those we feel have been overlooked, badly neglected, and often maligned.”
“Right on, Reggie. Who did you come up with?”
“Unwed fathers.”
I couldn’t think of a more overlooked, neglected, and maligned group in our United States. “Good choice,” I encouraged. “What services would we provide?”
“A hideaway is what I have in mind,” Reggie said. You had to hand it to him. When he focused in on a project he left no stone unturned.
“Someplace in the desert perhaps,” Reggie mused, ‘where the men can relax and get away from the haranguing of irate females and lawyers. I was thinking of Nevada where bordellos are legal. You know, for the boys’ night out.”
“Reggie, you are a genius, but you might consider Algiers, too.”
“Really, Archy? Why?”
“I’ll tell you at the meeting.”
“How boss,” Reggie chuckled. “See you later. I have to get back to my table, if I can find it.”
“I hope he was kidding,” Mr. Pettibone offered in passing.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Pettibone. You find the new charity unworthy?”
“Heavens no, Archy. I’m opposed to Nevada. Too hot regardless of the amenities. I would suggest Arizona where one can go south of the border for rest and relaxation.”
Mr. Pettibone has tarried too long at the Pelican Club.
Priscilla returned. “Leroy can put together a burger with cottage fries and a tossed salad.”
Tell Leroy I will marry him if he doesn’t forget the pickle spears.”
I lowered my voice and dipped my head. Tell me, are the happy couple enjoying their date?”
“I think so,” Priscilla said. “She keeps saying, “Oh, Binky, how you make me laugh.”
This was worse than I had imagined. The girl was a menace. Poor Binky would forsake his Victoria’s Secret catalogues for reality’s lash. I should make a citizen’s arrest, drag her off to a hallowed shelter, and pray for the redemption of her soul. “Oh, Lord, make her a good girl but not immediately.”
Why do I harbor such thoughts? My precarious position between Sabrina Wright and her three angry adversaries had me on edge and imminent danger activates the adrenal gland, unleashing the steroid al hormone known as adrenaline. In animals this remarkable substance triggers the fight or flight instinct. Perhaps due to a missing gene, in Archy it triggers only the flight half. That’s why I felt compelled to run off to the Kasbah with Bianca Courtney. Steroidal hormones will do it all the time. Clearly, I am a victim of genetic imbalance.
“We gave Binky his gifts last night,” Priscilla announced as if I didn’t know. “Connie said she hopes her bridal shower is as successful as Binky’s housewarming, hint, hint.”
“Tell Connie that Archy hopes his application for the priesthood is looked upon favorably, hint, hint.”
With a nod toward my corner table, Priscilla predicted, “With the way things are progressing there, you may be giving Binky a bachelor party before the year is out. They ordered one chocolate mousse for dessert, with two spoons. Cozy, no?” Priscilla picked up her order and fled.
With that my evening reached its nadir. Remembering that there was always one step further down you could go, I clung to the promise of one of Leroy’s hamburgers, which are a gourmand’s delight, proving that the best things in life are not free. At the Pelican Club they start at fourteen ninety-five and advance rapidly. I would have Mr.
Pettibone pull a dark lager to go with the repast. Why, I was feeling better already.
There were two couples at the bar waiting for tables and after seeing to their needs Mr. Pettibone approached me and asked, “Have you seen your policeman friend, Archy?”
“Not since we lunched here the other day. Are you in need of the law?”
“Thankfully, no, but Pris told us that you told him the Henry Peavey story and he said he would run the name through the police files. I was wondering if he’d turned up anything.”
With all that had been going on since Sabrina, Bianca, and Babette had entered my life I had forgotten all about cousin Lyle and Henry Peavey.
“If he had, I’m sure he would have called me,” I told Mr. Pettibone.
“But I will check with Al and get back to you the soonest. I take it Mrs. Pettibone has heard nothing from California.”
“Not a word, Archy, and it’s on her mind constantly. She’s running up a phone bill with Lyle’s daughter and giving me no rest. Probably all nonsense, anyway. Lyle never did have much on the ball, as I recall.
The man is a modern-day alchemist, his tools being lottery tickets and football pools. He doesn’t have an Oval Office so he works around an oval track.”
“Don’t count him out, Mr. P; he may be on to something this time.”
A couple of new arrivals stepped up to the bar and Mr. Pettibone hastened to greet them. In parting, he called over his shoulder, All I want from him is the cost of the long-distance calls. Keep in touch, Archy.”
“I will, Mr. Pettibone,” I promised.
Now Binky and his date were departing and although I avoided looking their way, they came bounding up to me on their way out. “Pleasant meal?” I inquired civilly.
“Great,” Bianca said. “I can’t wait to come back.”
“No need for an antacid, I assume.”
“Not tonight,” she beamed. “We’re going home to catalogue Binky’s gifts.”
“That’s right, Archy; remember you told me to keep a detailed list for reciprocation. Bianca is going to help me. I got fourteen in all.”
“Sixteen, if you count Priscilla’s and Connie’s,” Bianca reminded him.
“Where is Connie tonight, Archy?”
Oh, she was a piece of work, little Ms Buttons and Bows. “I am not Connie’s keeper,” I answered, ‘and here comes my humble meal so if you will excuse me I will bid you both happy cataloguing.”
“We’re having waffles for breakfast,” Binky said loud enough for everyone at the bar to hear. “Bianca is going to show me how to use my new waffle iron.” He was besotted. If, at that very moment, Mr.
Pettibone had not put my meal before me I would have made my citizen’s arrest to save the boy from both debauchery and indigestion. This is what comes of getting your own pad while still a youth. Why, Binky was just ten years past his teens. Bianca said she was twenty-two, but with witches who knows?
“Night, Archy!” Bianca called and toddled off.
The moment she was out of earshot, Binky poked me in the ribs and whispered, “Don’t come knocking when the trailer is rocking.”
Oh, please.
Dies Saturni, or Saturn’s day, but there was no rest for Archy. I awoke to the sound of a drip, drip, drip, and knew it was a rainy Saturday morn. Good for the merchants on Worth Avenue, bad for the bikini watchers on the beach. I showered vigorously, hot, cold, hot, cold; shampooed my hair and wrapped myself in my hooded white terry robe. Last night, after returning from the Pelican Club, I added an addendum to the last two addenda in my journal, bringing it up to date.
First, “The Man That Got Away,”
second, “The Man That Wouldn’t Go Away third, “And Baby Makes Five.”
After recording in detail my visit to Casa Gran, I had written that Appleton, Cranston, and Schuyler would not rest easy until Sabrina and her daughter departed Palm Beach and disappeared from their lives. In the gray light of a rainy morning I added that this would be only a temporary reprieve, at best. When Sabrina had confided to Gillian the circumstances of her birth she had opened the closet door, exposing the skeleton. It was only a matter of time before someone fleshed out the bones and added a face.
The men would never rest easy until those who could identify Mr. Bones were silenced. Namely, Sabrina and Archy. The kooky part was that neither one of us could make a positive ID. Was it time the men knew this?
I went down to breakfast in shorts and polo shirt. “Do we own a waffle iron?” I asked Ursi.
“I know there’s one someplace, but if that’s what you’re craving this morning, Archy, I don’t have the batter.”