McNally's Folly by Lawrence Sanders, Vincent Lardo Page B

And I assume by this time you’ve already had lunch.”
    “I don’t want a drink and I’ve already had lunch because I was told you wouldn’t be serving.”
    “Ha,” Desdemona said with great delight. “That’s telling her. You were right, Cynthia, he’s just what we need.”
    Need? What did that mean? To nip any bit of nonsense in the bud I declared, “I’m not for hire, Ms. Darling.”
    “Please, call me DeeDee.”
    “We don’t want to hire you, lad. We expect you to volunteer,” Lady C said.
    “In this world, Lady Cynthia, there are no victims, there are only volunteers.”
    “Ha,” Desdemona Darling let one out again. “I like this guy. And the fact that his grandfather agrees with our choice makes it clear that we picked a winner.”
    What goes around, comes around, and what was coming around was Serge Ouspenskaya. I could feel it up and down my spine. “My grandfather is dead,” I told DeeDee.
    “I know he’s dead,” DeeDee said. “If he was alive I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I never worked burlesque but I dated a few of the comics in my day and you’re safer feasting with panthers, Archy, believe me.”
    The expression was not original, but having been fed lines by scriptwriters and press agents all her adult life, it was only natural that a few should creep into her conversation from time to time. “Has this got something to do with what the psychic, Serge Ouspenskaya, said to me at the Tremaines’ Monday night?” I asked. When dealing with Lady C, I have learned to go for the jugular. It saves a lot of time.
    “It has everything to do with that,” Lady C answered. “Do you remember what he said to you?”
    “Your grandfather, that is, not Mr. Ouspenskaya,” DeeDee interpolated.
    DeeDee’s comment left no room for doubt that she and Lady C firmly believed Freddy spoke through Ouspenskaya and not, as I believed, that Ouspenskaya spoke for himself regardless of who he claimed was doing the talking. I had no choice but to go along with the charade—for now. “He said my parents were in the process of choosing a cruise ship for a proposed vacation. He also said he had played the Oakley Theater, now called the Lake Worth Playhouse, in 1924.”
    “That’s it,” Lady C cried. “The Lake Worth Playhouse.”
    “If you’re referring to the community theater’s production of Arsenic and Old Lace, I knew about it before the night of the sitting.”
    Lady C jumped on that. “Who told you?” she demanded, no doubt hoping to catch Connie Garcia at betraying a confidence.
    “A contact,” I said, “who told me on the promise of anonymity.” I delivered the line in the manner of a Hollywood lawyer which seemed to please DeeDee. To take the heat off Connie I added, “And your protégé, Buzz Carr, told me you had engaged the Lake Worth Playhouse for the run of the play. It was the night he took on Fitz as his leading lady and Binky Watrous as stage manager. Buzz has a big mouth, in case you don’t know it.”
    “I hear he’s got a big everything,” DeeDee bellowed with glee. Strange. On the screen she had a voice that could lull a babe in arms to sleep. One never knows, do one?
    “Shut up, DeeDee,” Lady C snapped at her buddy.
    My, my. It appeared these two old-timers gossiped about more than just old times.
    “Mr. Ouspenskaya said something else to you, Archy. Think. What was it?” DeeDee prompted.
    I had been thinking ever since both Father and Hanna Ventura told me Ouspenskaya had said something no one could possibly know, with the exception of Desdemona Darling and her pal, Lady Cynthia. I presumed I was about to find out what that was. “Sorry, but I don’t recall what else he said.”
    DeeDee dug into the pocket of her muumuu and came up with a piece of notepaper. Holding it at arm’s length, she read, “ ‘You won’t be the first McNally on the bill there.’ That’s what he said, Archy. ‘You won’t be the first McNally on the bill