McNally's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF Page B

Once we notify the police, this place will be a zoo. The local paparazzi and television crews will set up camp on Ocean Boulevard and as soon as the New York boys get wind of it they’ll come down by the planeload.”
    “Where is she?” I asked again.
    “At a house party. I have the address.” She withdrew a piece of notepaper from the pocket of her robe.
    “When did she leave here?”
    Melva shrugged. “Before Geoff left, I think. She came up to say she was going.”
    “She has her own car?”
    “Yes. You’ll do it, Archy. You’ll find Veronica?”
    “I will, don’t worry about that. Call the police as soon as I leave. If they find me here they’ll detain me.” She nodded her understanding. “One more thing, Melva. The alarm system. It was off when I drove in. Did you turn it off?”
    “No. We never activate it during the day, only at night. First one to drive out the gate for the evening sets the alarm. It’s a house rule and it’s usually Veronica who does it. She’s been out every evening since we arrived.”
    “So if Veronica went out first this evening, she set the alarm. But who shut it off if you didn’t?”
    “Perhaps Geoff. To give his lady friend a quick exit.”
    “You have to know the digital code to drive in, Melva. To drive out all you need is two hands to open the gate.”
    “I don’t know what you mean, Archy.”
    “I’m not sure I know either.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. “A proper Bostonian named Crowninshield once said married men make lousy husbands. He was right.” It didn’t get a laugh, but it helped. “Chin up, lady. McNally and Son are at your service.”
    And because the rich are different from you and me, Hattie escorted me to the front door as befits a housekeeper come hell, high water, or murder. “Can you tell me anything more, Hattie?” I probed.
    “Like Missy said, Mr. Archy, I was in my room most of the day. The room over the kitchen, up the back stairs. The shouting woke me. It was after eleven. I listened but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. When I heard the gun go BOOM, I thought we had been robbed. I was afraid, Mr. Archy. I thought the crooks had killed Missy. Then the getaway car making so much noise, just like in the movies. I came down and... and...”
    “Okay, Hattie. Take it easy. The police will be here in five minutes. Stay with Mrs. Williams as long as you can. I’ll be in touch in the morning.”
    I put the piece of paper Melva had given me into my jacket pocket and drove off in the Miata. I wanted to get as far from the murder scene as possible before the PBPD moved in. I turned south on the A1A because I knew the police would approach from the north. My Miata is not exactly indiscreet, especially if Al Rogoff happened to be working the graveyard shift this chilly evening.
    Well, I thought, Palm Beach can now boast a society crime passionnel, or crime of passion, which clever defense lawyers often equate to “temporary insanity,” getting their clients off with being placed in psychiatric care at most. However, murdering one’s husband was not new to high society. Regardless of Melva’s fate, when the media quotes her saying, “She was riding him,” Melva Ashton Manning Williams will kick off a cause célèbre unparalleled in Palm Beach’s short and audacious history.

4
    A T ONE IN THE morning I had very little company on Ocean Boulevard. Were my fellow travelers—besides exceeding the legal speed limit—hurrying to or from dangerous liaisons? Under a starry Florida sky, wrapped in our mobile suits of armor, we were a landlocked version of ships passing in the night. I assumed mine was the only ship fleeing a murder scene, but life in Palm Beach had taught me to assume nothing, expect anything, and look to the morning papers to reveal what exactly it was that went bump in the night.
    When I thought I was a safe distance from Melva and her police escort, I pulled off the road and into a driveway, stopping just before