Read Online McNally's Dare by Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo - Free Book Online
Authors: Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo
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Denny for a hefty fee it would be for a completely different reason I had been engaged by Nifty—thus not a conflict. N’est ce pas? Greed, thy name is Archibald McNally. I was in the catbird seat and enjoying the view, which prompted me to quip brazenly, “I thought you came down for a respite from February in New York.”
“Touché, Archy, I deserved that.” He downed another swig of Johnnie Walker Red. “If I start asking questions it will draw the attention of every hack in the country and they will make a beeline to Palm Beach in search of the honey. I say that with all due modesty to my fame as an investigative reporter. Plus, I don’t know my way around these parts and you do.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Partners?”
I gave that a moment’s thought and raised my glass. Denny had given me a connection between my two cases for Nifty that I might never have discerned on my own. I owed the man something and, let’s not forget, he would pay well for my largesse.
“You said you had one meeting with Jeff. What did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Denny said. “He wanted to know how much I would pay for his information. I told him, yet again, it would depend on what he was selling. He asked for a ballpark figure, as he put it, and I got the feeling that he was engaging in a private auction.”
“You mean he was talking to another magazine?”
“No. I think he was talking to Lance Talbot, or Lance’s dad, and using my presence as a threat. He wanted to know how much I would pay so he could tell either party it would cost him double to keep his mouth, and mine, shut. Smart kid, right?”
“So smart it got him drowned,” I said, finding it impossible to believe Jeff Rodgers could know who had fathered Lance Talbot, but said, in spite of this conviction, “And if it was the father Jeff was dealing with it’s very possible Lance knows nothing about the blackmail scam or who his father is.”
“It’s possible,” Denny said, not sounding too happy with the hypothesis. Denny wanted the young, handsome and rich Lance Talbot to be the focal point of his story, not a footnote.
“Did you give Jeff a ballpark figure?”
“Guessing he knew the name of Talbot’s father, and that it was a big name, I said twenty thousand was not unheard of for the right information.”
It was my turn to whistle through my teeth. “Lance did not kill Jeff Rodgers,” I stated for the record.
“I’m aware of that, Archy. Remember, I had an interest in Lance Talbot. I got my editor to pay big to get me invited to MacNiff’s fund-raiser and Lance Talbot was never out of my sight yesterday afternoon. He never went near the pool.”
“Did Jeff tell you Lance was going to be at Malcolm MacNiff’s yesterday?” I asked.
“But of course.”
So the waiter knew the playboy’s social schedule. The more one learned, the less one knew. At this juncture I had to ask, “Tell me, Denny, are you interested in a story or justice?”
“A story, of course. If the bad guys get their comeuppance along the way, that’s fine, too.”
“I appreciate the candor,” I told him, “and I have no problem with learning the facts and reporting them, but I will have no part in creating a story that doesn’t otherwise exist.”
“Fair enough. And may I remind you that since I am your client you are not obligated to tell the police what I have told you. Client confidentiality, remember?”
I had already thought of this but insisted on saying, “Unless withholding information endangers anyone, and I reserve the right to go to the police with what I learn about Jeff Rodgers and Lance Talbot directly after giving you your scoop.”
I did not say that the police would consider Denny’s information hearsay, as was Jeff’s claim that he had something on Lance Talbot. Cold, hard facts were woefully lacking, which had me thinking that this could be an ingenious plot on behalf of Dennis Darling to rock the boat on a calm sea with
“Touché, Archy, I deserved that.” He downed another swig of Johnnie Walker Red. “If I start asking questions it will draw the attention of every hack in the country and they will make a beeline to Palm Beach in search of the honey. I say that with all due modesty to my fame as an investigative reporter. Plus, I don’t know my way around these parts and you do.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Partners?”
I gave that a moment’s thought and raised my glass. Denny had given me a connection between my two cases for Nifty that I might never have discerned on my own. I owed the man something and, let’s not forget, he would pay well for my largesse.
“You said you had one meeting with Jeff. What did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Denny said. “He wanted to know how much I would pay for his information. I told him, yet again, it would depend on what he was selling. He asked for a ballpark figure, as he put it, and I got the feeling that he was engaging in a private auction.”
“You mean he was talking to another magazine?”
“No. I think he was talking to Lance Talbot, or Lance’s dad, and using my presence as a threat. He wanted to know how much I would pay so he could tell either party it would cost him double to keep his mouth, and mine, shut. Smart kid, right?”
“So smart it got him drowned,” I said, finding it impossible to believe Jeff Rodgers could know who had fathered Lance Talbot, but said, in spite of this conviction, “And if it was the father Jeff was dealing with it’s very possible Lance knows nothing about the blackmail scam or who his father is.”
“It’s possible,” Denny said, not sounding too happy with the hypothesis. Denny wanted the young, handsome and rich Lance Talbot to be the focal point of his story, not a footnote.
“Did you give Jeff a ballpark figure?”
“Guessing he knew the name of Talbot’s father, and that it was a big name, I said twenty thousand was not unheard of for the right information.”
It was my turn to whistle through my teeth. “Lance did not kill Jeff Rodgers,” I stated for the record.
“I’m aware of that, Archy. Remember, I had an interest in Lance Talbot. I got my editor to pay big to get me invited to MacNiff’s fund-raiser and Lance Talbot was never out of my sight yesterday afternoon. He never went near the pool.”
“Did Jeff tell you Lance was going to be at Malcolm MacNiff’s yesterday?” I asked.
“But of course.”
So the waiter knew the playboy’s social schedule. The more one learned, the less one knew. At this juncture I had to ask, “Tell me, Denny, are you interested in a story or justice?”
“A story, of course. If the bad guys get their comeuppance along the way, that’s fine, too.”
“I appreciate the candor,” I told him, “and I have no problem with learning the facts and reporting them, but I will have no part in creating a story that doesn’t otherwise exist.”
“Fair enough. And may I remind you that since I am your client you are not obligated to tell the police what I have told you. Client confidentiality, remember?”
I had already thought of this but insisted on saying, “Unless withholding information endangers anyone, and I reserve the right to go to the police with what I learn about Jeff Rodgers and Lance Talbot directly after giving you your scoop.”
I did not say that the police would consider Denny’s information hearsay, as was Jeff’s claim that he had something on Lance Talbot. Cold, hard facts were woefully lacking, which had me thinking that this could be an ingenious plot on behalf of Dennis Darling to rock the boat on a calm sea with
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