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reason for being here, Lolly’s man that got away would acquire a third persona -Gillian’s beau.
    Jamie, without so much as a nod, understood that I would be grateful for anything he could come up with regarding the whereabouts of Sabrina’s daughter and her current flame. I have often slipped Jamie a few large greenbacks in appreciation of services rendered, a fact that would drive my sire up a wall and get me expelled, yet again, from a safe harbor. But in my business the riskiest thing one can do is not tempt the fates.
    The aroma ascending from Ursi’s skillet had me salivating as she lovingly sauteed the vegtables before adding the sliced roast pork and a touch of sherry. She left it on the flame long enough to warm the pork through and crisp the edges, then quickly de glazed the pan. As she transferred the contents to a warm plate, drizzling the lot with the savory pan juices, she complained, “You would think Sabrina Wright would know better. All her heroines fall in love with the wrong man, only they turn out to be the right man in the end.”
    “That’s because in her novels Sabrina is calling the shots. In real life, Ursi, she can’t do that.”
    My ragout was placed before me, along with several thick slices of Ursi’s own sourdough bread, and a bottle of ice-cold Brooklyn lager.
    Nirvana.
    “Then she should let her daughter follow her heart,” Ursi offered with my lunch.
    It was clear that Ursi Olson had read too many Sabrina Wright novels.
    When I returned to the office the first thing I did was call Lolly Spindrift to see if he knew anything more about Sabrina Wright’s visit to our Eden than his blind item intimated. I was not too sanguine as gossip columnists in general, and Lolly Spindrift in particular, tell all they know or think they know, keeping secret only their own libidinous behavior. Lolly’s column is called “Hither and Yon,” which in other words means Palm Beach and anyplace else he can beg, borrow, steal, or invent a scoop about the rich and famous.
    “Lol? Archy McNally here.”
    “You cad,” he attacked. “You never call to whisper sweet nothings into my eager ear even after I gave you three mentions this month.”
     
    “Getting a mention in this town in July, Lol, is as newsworthy as telling your readers the pope attended mass last Sunday.”
    “But unlike the pope, dear heart, your dalliances bring a blush to my cheek and a longing to my savage breast; however, I never tell although I have a file with your name on it that would make the contents of Pandora’s box look benign.”
    “Let’s keep it under lock and key, Lol.”
    “It depends, Archy.”
    “On what?”
    “How nice you are to Lolly.”
    Deflecting having to take him to dinner at some expensive bistro, I announced, “There’s a new bartender at Bar Anticipation who’s right up your alley.”
    And how would you know?”
    A wild guess, Lol.”
    “Well, guess again. I’ve sworn off bartenders. The last one…”
    It was a half hour before I was able to stifle his account of unrequited love. After making the necessary sympathetic sounds, I posed, “A favor, Lol?”
    “I knew you wanted to pick my brains, Archy. What about pumping me over dinner this evening?”
    The guy’s conversation was peppered with all kinds of innuendo that, believe me, was intentional. Lolly Spindrift is small of stature and favors white double-breasted suits, ascots, Panama hats, and expensive restaurants. His petite size belies a ravenous appetite and the word
    ‘abstemious’ is not in his lexicon. At a buffet dinner party given by a PB matron of great wealth and little charm, I watched him consume healthy portions of all twenty delicacies on the smorgasbord table, belch daintily, and in lieu of a doggy bag he took home the chef.
    “The Pelican Club?” I offered.
    The Pelican Club is a private dining and drinking establishment housed in a somewhat dilapidated, two-story shingled house near the airport and is the favorite