McNally's Dare by Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo

classes?”
    “Spare me the minutiae of our caste system, McNally. That tennis party was crawling with big guns, like the hunk Jackson Barnett. He would interest Dennis Darling, especially if Barnett was interested in one of the waiters.”
    Not a bad guess, I thought, proud of my Georgy girl. She was in the right church, if the wrong pew, which was fine. For the time being, let them all think what they wanted as long as Lance Talbot wasn’t on their most wanted list. “Jackson was asked not to leave town, as we all were,” I said, “and is presently stowed away on Phil Meecham’s yacht, but Lady Cynthia has invited the pro to play on her court.”
    “That,” Georgy said, “is like being caught between the proverbial hard place and a brick wall.”
    “No, my dear. It’s like being trapped between two flesh-eating creatures—speaking of which, shall we eat?”
    We rose, kissed and headed for the kitchen. Georgy suddenly stopped, took hold of my elbow and exclaimed, “Don’t open the oven.”
    “For Pete’s sake, why not?”
    “I just remembered, I forgot to put the mushroom soup in the casserole.”
    “What?”
    “You came in just as I was about to open the can and distracted me,” she wailed. “It’ll be congealed.”
    “Congealed? Georgy girl, it will be cement.”
    She ran to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a stack of colorful menus. “Lee Wong’s Chinese Take Out, Mama Mia’s Italian Take Out, Julio’s Cuban Take Out...”
    “Stop it,” I shouted. “You’re making me ill.”
    “Lee Wong’s is not bad,” she recommended. “Excellent sesame noodles.”
    “Your landlady doesn’t like it when strangers call on you after dark,” I reminded her.
    “Lee Wong a stranger? You must be kidding, McNally
    Georgy girl is living proof that the way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach.

NINE
    B REAKFAST NOT BEING AN option at Chez Georgy, I stopped at a diner on the way south and treated myself to scrambled eggs, sausages and toast, telling the waitress to go easy on the hash browns. Lee Wong’s chicken and snow peas do not stick to the ribs. Georgy would pick up a container of coffee and a buttered roll at the troopers’ favorite pit stop on the way to work. How she maintained that figure and flawless complexion on a diet of fast food and breakfasts on-the-go could only be attributed to youth and good genes. Georgy girl had an abundant supply of both.
    I arrived at the McNally manse in plenty of time to get into a change of clothes and make a few notes in my journal before going to work on behalf of my two clients. Ursi was in the kitchen, removing the remains of breakfast; Father had left for the office and, so Ursi told me, Jamie and Mother were off in Mother’s coveted wood-paneled Ford wagon in search of orphaned begonias in need of TLC.
    “I made beef bourguignon last night and those crispy roasted potatoes you like so much,” Ursi informed me. “We missed you.”
    “Not as much as I missed you, I’m sure.”
    “I take it you were out on business,” she said, puttering around the sink as if she wasn’t curious to know where I had spent the night. The family had reconciled themselves to the fact that Connie and I were no longer seeing each other and I had told them about Georgy girl, but to date had not invited her to the house. Fools rush in, as they say, and I was no fool. Well, not most of the time.
    Knowing how to divert our housekeeper from probing into my love life, I said, “A mix of business and pleasure, Ursi. I had drinks with Dennis Darling, as a matter of fact.”
    “The reporter for the scandal sheet,” she exclaimed. “I hear he’s come to Palm Beach to make trouble. What did you tell him?”
    “Read all about it in Bare Facts magazine.”
    “Will they quote you, Archy?”
    “I doubt it, as I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know” I poured myself a cup of coffee, which I intended to take to my room while I changed. The leader of the Ocean