After the ransom had been handed over, the messenger would leave, but Willigan or his representative was ordered to remain in the parking area. When the fifty thousand had been counted and the bills examined and approved, Peaches would be delivered, hale and hearty.
Laverne continued: "It also says if the messenger sees or suspects the presence of the police, Harry will never see his pet alive again."
"I don't like the setup," I said immediately. "What if the fifty thousand is handed over to the messenger, he disappears, and Peaches is never produced? It seems to me they're asking Harry to take a horrendous risk."
"He doesn't have much choice, does he?" Laverne said. "Not if he wants to rub noses with Sweetums again. I called Harry in Chicago and told him what the letter said. He cursed a blue streak but finally said he'll play ball. He's going to phone his Palm Beach bank in the morning and tell them to get the cash together. The bank will call me when it's ready. Then I'll phone you. Harry wants you to deliver the money and get Peaches back. Will you do it, Archy?"
"Of course," I said. "It's the least I can do after failing to locate the catnappers. Let me know when the bank has the cash ready. I'll pick it up from them. And sometime tomorrow I'll stop by your place and get the letter. If you're going out, leave it with Leon."
"Thank you, Archy," she said briskly. "I'm sure everything will work out just fine."
"I think so, too," I said. "Harry will be back on Tuesday?"
"Yes. Early in the morning. By that time you should have Peaches."
After she hung up I phoned Al Rogoff again to alert him to this new development. But I was unable to locate him and decided it could wait until the morning. Then we'd devise a plan to thwart the villains.
Monday was shaping up as a hellacious day. I only hoped I'd live to see Tuesday.
15
I awoke Monday morning with a dread feeling of having forgotten to do something I should have done. I recognized my lapse while scraping my jowls, and if it hadn't been a safety razor I might have nicked the old jug, I was that mortified. What I had disremembered was to phone Connie Garcia on Sunday as I had promised. Not for the first time did I wonder why I treated that dear woman with such thoughtless neglect. I suppose it was because I knew she was there.
I had roused in time to breakfast with my parents in the dining room. While scarfing my way through a stack of buckwheat pancakes, I informed the governor of Laverne Willigan's phone call the previous night.
He glanced up from The Wall Street Journal long enough to gaze at me speculatively. "You actually intend to deliver the money to the catnappers yourself, Archy?"
"Yes, sir. I expect Sergeant Rogoff will come up with a plan for a trap."
He nodded. "When you receive the fifty thousand at the bank," he advised, "count it before you sign a receipt."
I sighed. "Yes, father," I said. Sometimes he treated me as if I were the village idiot. I do have a brain, you know, even though occasionally I choose not to use it.
Before leaving for the Willigan hacienda, I phoned Al Rogoff at his office and found him in a surprisingly lively mood.
"What are you so chirpy about?" I asked him.
"It's all coming together, old buddy. I'll fill you in later. What's up?"
I repeated what Laverne Willigan had told me of the catnappers' letter and the instructions as to how the ransom was to be paid.
"I don't like it," Al said at once. "Too much risk of a double X."
"I told Laverne that but she said Harry has no choice and is willing to shell out the fifty grand."
"Which makes her and the boyfriend happy- right? Okay, Archy, I'll start working on a snare for midnight tonight."
"After I collect the money from the bank, do you want to mark the bills?" ›
"Haven't got time," he said. "And too dangerous if they've got a lamp to read the markings. We'll make a list of the serial numbers; that'll hold up in court. Stay in touch; it's going to be a rackety day."
"Tell me about it. Al, do you think you'll be able to keep Laverne Willigan out of it?"
He was silent a moment. Then he said, "It depends," and I had to be satisfied with that.
Then I buzzed down to the Willigan manse. Leon told me the lady of the house was busy with her pedicurist, but he handed me the latest ransom note in its white envelope.
"I guess Peaches is coming home," he said.
"Looks like it," I agreed.
"And I start sneezing again," he said mournfully.
"If you don't like cats," I said, "why don't you buy yourself a koala or a wallaby? Just to remind you of down under."
"I've been down and under since I got here," he complained. "Florida is the outback with oranges."
Have you ever noticed that some people aren't happy unless they're unhappy?
Then I scooted for the McNally Building somewhat in excess of the legal speed limit. I arrived in time to smoke a cigarette before joining my father. I noted my hands weren't exactly shaking, but I would not have selected that moment to thread a needle. It was amazing how the prospect of a meeting with Mrs. Irma Gloriana rasped my nerves.
I went up to my father's office a few minutes before ten o'clock.
"I think it best, Archy," he said, "if you serve as a witness, a silent witness. Please let me ask the questions. If you are addressed directly, of course, you may respond. But I would prefer the conversation be limited to Mrs. Gloriana and myself."
"I'll be a fly on the wall," I assured him.
"Exactly," he said with his wintry smile.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the antique railroad clock on the wall over his rolltop desk. "The lady is prompt," he said. He picked up the phone. "Yes, show her in, please."
Mrs. Trelawney opened the door and stood aside to allow Mrs. Irma Gloriana to enter. Then the secretary closed the door softly.
Father was standing at his desk and I was across the room next to the bottle-green leather chesterfield. Irma took two steps into the office, her eyes on my father. Then she became aware of my presence, stared at me for a beat or two, and turned back to father.
"What is he doing here?" she demanded.
"I am Prescott McNally," he said in a plummy voice, "and I presume you are Mrs. Irma Gloriana. Since you are already acquainted with my son, I have asked him to attend this meeting as witness and adviser. You may be assured of his discretion."
Irma shook her head angrily. "It won't do," she said. "I don't need a witness and I don't need an adviser. I insist on a private, confidential conversation between you and me."
"In that case," my father said, "I suggest this meeting be terminated forthwith. Good day, madam." (He accented the "madam" ever so slightly.)
How I admired his tactics! Not only was he establishing his command of the situation but he was determining her anxiety level. If she marched out, then she felt she held a winning hand. If she remained, then her role was that of a supplicant, anxious to cut a deal.
She stood a moment in silence, and I reflected it was the first time I had seen her irresolute.
She was wearing a tailored suit of pale pink linen with a high-necked blouse. It was certainly a conservative costume, but not even a chador could conceal that woman's sexual radiance, and I wondered if my father was aware of it. I suspected he was. He might be stodgy but he was not torpid.
We waited.
"Very well," Mrs. Gloriana said finally. "If you wish. ."
Father gestured toward an armchair upholstered in the same leather as the chesterfield. He sat in his swivel chair, turned to face his visitor. I remained standing in a position where I could observe them both without making like a fan at a tennis match.