McNally's Alibi by Lawrence Sanders & Vincent Lardo

Author:Lawrence Sanders & Vincent Lardo [Sanders, Lawrence & Lardo, Vincent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781453298336
Publisher: Putnam Adult
Published: 2002-07-22T04:00:00+00:00

13

MY ENTRANCE INTO THE Pelican Club with a beautiful blonde on my arm was like a strut down the catwalk at a Versace fashion show. If the number of diners and the crowd at the bar were any indication, Priscilla had certainly spread the word. No one was uncouth enough to actually stare, but there was an almost imperceptible pause in the hum of conversation as Georgy and I sauntered in. Several people waved, and I waved back. It was all very much as I had anticipated, and I couldn’t have enjoyed it more.

“Well,” Priscilla said, rushing up to us, “look what the cat dragged in.”

“This is Ms. O’Hara,” I said.

“Call me Georgy, please,” Georgy said with a smile. “And you must be Priscilla. Archy prepped me on the ride here. He said you were lovely, and I second the motion.”

Sizing up my date and returning the compliment, Priscilla cooed, “I love your hair.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I did it myself.”

Priscilla glowered as she led us to my corner table. On the way we passed Connie and Binky, who were also seated in the bar area, and I paused long enough to say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy indeed,” Connie responded, raising her glass. Good grief, it was a champagne glass. And there was a bottle of the bubbly cooling in a bucket of ice beside their table. I stumbled, righted myself and caught up with Georgy just in time to hold her chair.

“Can I get you a drink?” Priscilla asked, depositing two menus on our table.

I could certainly use one and hoped no one noticed. Champagne? Binky never drank anything but Simon Pettibone’s drawn lager, and Connie usually had a vodka and tonic before a glass of wine with dinner. Suddenly, on my dime, they develop a taste for champagne. I would have Binky drawn and quartered in the morning. No, death was too good for Binky Watrous. Instead, when he presented me with the bill I would say, “Guess what, Binky? I LIED.”

“Can Mr. Pettibone make a negroni?” Georgy wondered.

“Mr. Pettibone can make anything in the bartender’s guide to genteel inebriation without so much as a glance at the recipe book.” Turning to our waitperson, who was staring at Georgy, I proclaimed, “Two negronis, please.”

Georgy looked surprised. “Do you like them, too?”

“Love them,” I said, having no idea what a negroni was and thinking how much I admired her courage not to play it safe and go for something more popular. The more one got to know Georgy O’Hara, the more one found to admire.

“So this is the famous Pelican Club,” she said, glancing around the room. “I think I’m going to like it here. Everyone looks very much at home.”

“Like I said, good food and grog in the company of friends.”

“And who was the lovely Latina lady you stopped to chat with?”

She had a policeman’s eye, all right. Or should that be a policewoman’s eye? Georgy girl didn’t miss a beat. I found myself telling her that Consuela

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