McNally's Folly (37 page)

I had been instrumental in securing Binky the position of mail person at McNally & Son, and the appointment seemed to be working rather well to date—touch wood, cross fingers, toes, eyes, and remember to light a candle to St. Jude, the hope of the hopeless. Binky is a personable young man, some ten years my junior, who looks remarkably like that famous movie star, Bambi. Older women, like Mrs. Trelawney and Sofia Richmond, find his liquid-brown eyes to die for. Binky’s contemporaries of the fair sex, alas, do not.

Ignoring my grievance, Binky asked me if I was free after work. “What do you have in mind, Binky?”

“Apartment hunting” is what he came up with.

Since securing employment with us and optimistic about the future, Binky is eager to move into his own pad with cohabitation very much the driving force of his quest. He recently spent his last dime having his collection of Victoria’s Secret catalogues bound in vellum. This is not a healthy sign. Binky lives with the Duchess, the sobriquet of his maiden aunt, who has supported him since the death of his parents when Binky was just a tad and who is as eager to be rid of her ward as he is to find a soul mate.

Removing a tiny scrap of newspaper from his jacket pocket, Binky proceeded to read aloud: “‘For rent with option to buy...’”

“You can’t afford to buy,” I cut in.

“I will some day,” Binky assured me. “By virtue of my unique talents, I am destined to be an entrepreneur, not an employee.”

The only talent I have ever recognized in Binky Watrous is one for fatuity. “And how do you envision moving from the mailroom to the boardroom?” I foolishly asked.

“I intend to modernize the mailroom, Archy.”

Never knowing when to withdraw while ahead, I rushed in where wiser men would dare not tread. “How, may I ask?”

“Pneumatic tubing,” he proclaimed with great pride.

Had I the room, I would have fainted.

“From my desk I will be able to shoot the mail all over the building in record-breaking time,” he went on, like a pitchman in a carny show.

In spite of our glass-and-chrome facade, McNally & Son is a Victorian enterprise within, thanks to its founder and CEO. Prescott McNally has been playing the part of the squire for so long that he actually believes he is one. A rectitudinous attorney, he reads only Dickens and sports an unruly guardsman’s mustache, hoping to emulate the English actor Sir C. Aubrey Smith. However, in my humble opinion, he comes off as Groucho Marx, especially when enjoying an ear of corn.

“The only thing pneumatic tubing will help break around here, Binky, is your neck,” I assured him.

Not heeding the warning, as is his wont, Binky continued to read the advert: “‘For rent with option to buy. Mobile home...’”

“You’re going to live in a trailer park?” I cried.

“What’s wrong with that? The Duchess thinks it’s perfect for me.”

The Duchess would put her stamp of approval on an opium den in Macao if she thought it would get Binky out of the house. I was, for reasons that will soon be clear, getting a bit anxious over Binky’s find.

“‘Kitchen,’” he continued, “‘dining area, parlor, bedroom, and bath, partially furnished. Contact Hermioni Rutherford at the Palm Court.’”

Like I always say, expect the worst and you’re seldom disappointed. Sgt. Al Rogoff of the PBPD, my friend and sometimes partner in crime busting, resides at the Palm. Was I to be spared nothing this dastardly day?

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher and the estate of Lawrence Sanders have chosen Vincent Lardo to create this novel based on Lawrence Sanders’s beloved character, Archy McNally, and his fictional world.

copyright © 2000 by Lawrence A. Sanders Enterprises, Inc.

cover design by Jason Gabbert

978-1-4532-9831-2

This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA

Available wherever ebooks are sold

Open Road Integrated Media
is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.

FIND OUT MORE AT

WWW.OPENROADMEDIA.COM

FOLLOW US:

@openroadmedia
and

Facebook.com/OpenRoadMedia