Read Online McNally's Risk by Lawrence Sanders - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence Sanders
Ads: Link
financial history. There must be a logical explanation for it, but whatever it might be I could not imagine. I hoped my Palm Beach contacts would help solve the riddle.
It was then pushing eleven o'clock, and I rushed upstairs to my father's office, for if I was even one minute late he was quite capable of canceling the appointment.
Prescott McNally, Esq., was standing solidly planted before his antique rolltop desk, and in his three-button, double-breasted suit of nubby cheviot, looking somewhat of a relic himself. He cast a baleful glance at my awning-striped seersucker jacket and didn't invite me to be seated.
I recited a condensed account of my interview with Shirley Feebling in Fort Lauderdale and finished by suggesting the lady might be sincere in professing love for Chauncey Wilson Smythe-Hersforth.
"She seemed totally uninterested in a cash settlement, sir," I remarked.
"Nonsense," father said sharply. "Did you make a specific offer?"
"No, I did not."
"That was a mistake, Archy," he said. "The mention of dollars would have concentrated her mind wonderfully. I'm afraid the lady bamboozled you. Her protestations of love were merely a bargaining ploy. And even if she is smitten, as you seem to believe, how can she possibly profit from an unrequited love? She can't force that young fool to marry her, you know."
"No, sir, but she can carry out her threat to sell his letters to a tabloid."
"Don't be so certain of that," he admonished me. "I would have to research relevant law, but it might be claimed the letters are his property since he created them, and if so ruled, the sale and publication could be legally enjoined. But before we go to that trouble, I suggest you consult with Smythe-Hersforth. Obtain his approval of your returning to Fort Lauderdale and making a definite offer to this woman. I believe the proposal of an actual cash payment will persuade her to talk business."
I was doubtful but made no demur. "How much do you think we should offer?"
He went into his mulling trance, and I waited patiently for his decision.
"I reckon a thousand dollars would be adequate," he finally said.
I was startled. "Isn't that rather mingy, sir?"
"Of course it is," he said testily, "and I expect the woman will reject it immediately. But it will serve as an opening move to begin bargaining. It will require her to reveal what she believes she should receive, and eventually, I trust, an equitable compromise can be agreed upon. The important thing is to shift negotiations away from discussion of her alleged emotional injury to the realm of a hard cash settlement. Do you understand?"
"Yes, father, and I'll attempt to explain it to CW, though he is not the swiftest man in the world."
"When you speak to him you might also ascertain how high he is willing to go. Five thousand? Ten? Or more? The decision must be his. Now is there anything else?"
"Just one more thing," I said hastily. "I had occasion to speak to Mrs. Louise Hawkin prior to the death of her husband. She said a friend was seeking a divorce lawyer and asked if we might recommend someone."
Father stared at me. "Do you really believe she was asking on behalf of a friend?"
"No, sir."
"Nor do I. And now that Mrs. Hawkin is a widow I doubt very much that she will inquire again about a divorce attorney. Your ten minutes are up."
I returned to my broom closet, slumped behind my steel desk, and silently groused. I was frustrated by that conversation with the senior. I thought he was totally mistaken about Ms. Shirley Feebling—but then I had met the lady and he had not. I really didn't believe she would accept a cash settlement, no matter how generous.
Still, I had no wish to flaunt my father's advice. His experience had been so much more extensive than mine, I simply had to defer to his judgment. But I am, as you may have guessed, an incurable romantic, and I mournfully reflected that if mein papa was correct and Shirley accepted money in lieu of love, I would be
It was then pushing eleven o'clock, and I rushed upstairs to my father's office, for if I was even one minute late he was quite capable of canceling the appointment.
Prescott McNally, Esq., was standing solidly planted before his antique rolltop desk, and in his three-button, double-breasted suit of nubby cheviot, looking somewhat of a relic himself. He cast a baleful glance at my awning-striped seersucker jacket and didn't invite me to be seated.
I recited a condensed account of my interview with Shirley Feebling in Fort Lauderdale and finished by suggesting the lady might be sincere in professing love for Chauncey Wilson Smythe-Hersforth.
"She seemed totally uninterested in a cash settlement, sir," I remarked.
"Nonsense," father said sharply. "Did you make a specific offer?"
"No, I did not."
"That was a mistake, Archy," he said. "The mention of dollars would have concentrated her mind wonderfully. I'm afraid the lady bamboozled you. Her protestations of love were merely a bargaining ploy. And even if she is smitten, as you seem to believe, how can she possibly profit from an unrequited love? She can't force that young fool to marry her, you know."
"No, sir, but she can carry out her threat to sell his letters to a tabloid."
"Don't be so certain of that," he admonished me. "I would have to research relevant law, but it might be claimed the letters are his property since he created them, and if so ruled, the sale and publication could be legally enjoined. But before we go to that trouble, I suggest you consult with Smythe-Hersforth. Obtain his approval of your returning to Fort Lauderdale and making a definite offer to this woman. I believe the proposal of an actual cash payment will persuade her to talk business."
I was doubtful but made no demur. "How much do you think we should offer?"
He went into his mulling trance, and I waited patiently for his decision.
"I reckon a thousand dollars would be adequate," he finally said.
I was startled. "Isn't that rather mingy, sir?"
"Of course it is," he said testily, "and I expect the woman will reject it immediately. But it will serve as an opening move to begin bargaining. It will require her to reveal what she believes she should receive, and eventually, I trust, an equitable compromise can be agreed upon. The important thing is to shift negotiations away from discussion of her alleged emotional injury to the realm of a hard cash settlement. Do you understand?"
"Yes, father, and I'll attempt to explain it to CW, though he is not the swiftest man in the world."
"When you speak to him you might also ascertain how high he is willing to go. Five thousand? Ten? Or more? The decision must be his. Now is there anything else?"
"Just one more thing," I said hastily. "I had occasion to speak to Mrs. Louise Hawkin prior to the death of her husband. She said a friend was seeking a divorce lawyer and asked if we might recommend someone."
Father stared at me. "Do you really believe she was asking on behalf of a friend?"
"No, sir."
"Nor do I. And now that Mrs. Hawkin is a widow I doubt very much that she will inquire again about a divorce attorney. Your ten minutes are up."
I returned to my broom closet, slumped behind my steel desk, and silently groused. I was frustrated by that conversation with the senior. I thought he was totally mistaken about Ms. Shirley Feebling—but then I had met the lady and he had not. I really didn't believe she would accept a cash settlement, no matter how generous.
Still, I had no wish to flaunt my father's advice. His experience had been so much more extensive than mine, I simply had to defer to his judgment. But I am, as you may have guessed, an incurable romantic, and I mournfully reflected that if mein papa was correct and Shirley accepted money in lieu of love, I would be
Similar Books
