McNally's Folly Read Free Page B

made you think of that?”
    And I learned all I wanted to know about Serge Ouspenskaya.
    Lady Cynthia had treated Palm Beach’s elite to a “who-done-it?” extravaganza just before the holiday season. She hired a theatrical agency in Miami to orchestrate the morbid gala wherein one of the guests is selected to be the murder victim, another designated the murderer. The rest of the crew have to figure out who-done-it, how-done-it and when-done-it. It’s the kind of fete very popular on mystery cruises and hotels that offer solve-it-yourself weekends.
    To gild the lily, as is Lady C’s wont, she decided to hire a seer, allow him to exchange a few words with all the guests and then have him write the names of the victim and the murderer on a piece of paper based on his “reading” of those assembled. The paper would be put into an envelope, sealed and opened after the lesser folks had a chance to solve the crime without divine intervention. Ouspenskaya was the chosen psychic.
    “How did Lady C come to choose Ouspenskaya?” I asked Connie.
    “That’s the weird part of the story, Archy. He chose us.”
    “How so?”
    “Madame decided on the psychic show one day and the next day Ouspenskaya called us. This is not hearsay. I took the call. He introduced himself and said he was calling in answer to Lady Cynthia’s need. I asked him how he knew what Lady Cynthia needed and he laughed and said, ‘Because I’m psychic, of course.’ ”
    “This is on the level, Connie?”
    “Would I lie to the man I love?”
    Love and marriage weigh heavily on Connie Garcia’s mind and Mr. Pettibone’s vodka gimlets only added fuel to the fire. I now nursed mine, fearing that if I ordered another Connie would be asking me to name the day.
    “Naturally, Lady C spread the story up and down Ocean Boulevard, more to drum up advance hype for her party than to further Ouspenskaya’s career.”
    “And did he name the victim and the murderer?”
    Connie raised her hand as if I had asked her to take an oath and said, “He did. Right down to the nitty-gritty of the bizarre plot.”
    Anyone with two brain cells that mesh would have then stated, “Lady C must have told the agency what she was up to and they could have hired Ouspenskaya as an extra added attraction to dazzle Madame and her guests. They had Ouspenskaya call and then they gave him all the information he needed to solve the crime they had set up.”
    Finishing her drink, Connie answered, “Anyone with two brain cells that mesh would have thought of that.”
    Pereant, inquit, qui ante nos nostra dixerunt. Loosely translated, “A pox on those who have uttered our words before us.” The arrival of our food precluded me from having to order two more gimlets, but I did ask Priscilla to bring us two lagers, which Mr. Pettibone keeps on tap and draws with the pomp and circumstance of a true artist. Then we both dug into our meal with gusto. I once told Connie I liked women with hearty appetites and she’s never forgotten it.
    “Everyone had a good time and Madame picked up the tab,” Connie continued with her tale of Lady C’s mystery shindig, “and if the agency had supplied Ouspenskaya on the sly we just accepted it as a perk.” Connie forked a spicy fry before going on. “But there’s more to the story.”
    Knowing I would hate myself in the morning, I blurted, “Anyone with two brain cells that mesh would know that.”
    Ignoring this, Connie went right on. “A week later, Mr. and Mrs. Fairhurst gave a charity ball for their beloved children’s hospital and, having heard of Ouspenskaya, thanks to the write-up Lolly Spindrift gave him in Lolly’s gossip rag, Mrs. Fairhurst hired Ouspenskaya to tell fortunes.”
    When the rich want to act like common folk and have a little fun, they do it in the name of charity. Hence we have Las Vegas Night balls, April in Paris balls, costume balls and come-as-your-favorite-mass-murderer balls. The gentry get to raise a little Cain