Free McNally's luck by Lawrence Sanders

tumor, would you look in the Yellow Pages for Brain Surgeons?"
    "You know, Archy," she said, "you have a freaky sense of humor."
    "I guess," I said, sighing. "Thanks, Connie. See you tonight."
    I went downstairs to my father's study. All his telephone directories had leather slipcovers. Stodgy? I agree. But you must understand that, to my knowledge, he was the only man in South Florida who wore rubbers when it rained.
    There she was in the Yellow Pages, listed under Psychic Advisers: a two-column display ad that stated Mrs. Hertha Gloriana was licensed, bonded, provided "advice and direction," and accepted all major credit cards. It didn't say if she was a Freudian, Jungian, or W. C. Fieldsian.
    I decided a personal encounter was preferable to a phone call, so I boarded the Miata and headed for West Palm Beach. That city has seven times the population of the Town of Palm Beach and, as this is written, is in the process of shedding its image as a poor country cousin and enjoying a long overdue rejuvenation.
    Mrs. Hertha Gloriana's address was on Clematis Street in an area that was now awash with new office buildings, pricey boutiques, and quaint shoppes of all kinds. It would never be Worth Avenue, of course, but what will?
    I had imagined the haunt of a medium would resemble one of those Dracula castles in the cartoons of Charles Addams. But Mrs. Gloriana had a fourth-floor suite in one of the new glass and stainless steel buildings.
    Her office was impressive, the large, airy waiting room decorated in mauve and aqua. There was a man seated behind the receptionist's desk. He was idly leafing through a copy of Vanity Fair and didn't look up when I entered. He was about my age, a handsome devil in a dark, saturnine kind of way. And he was dressed beautifully. As you may have gathered, I fancy myself something of a Beau Brum-mell, but this dude made me look like Bozo the Clown.
    He was wearing a suit of dove gray flannel that didn't come off a plain pipe rack. His shirt had white French cuffs and a collar wide enough to accommodate a knitted black silk cravat tied in a Windsor knot. The body of the shirt was striped horizontally with lavender bands. What a dandy he was!
    He finally looked up. "May I help you, sir?" he inquired pleasantly enough.
    "May I speak to Mrs. Gloriana, please."
    He smiled. "Do you have an appointment?"
    "Afraid not."
    "Mrs. Gloriana prefers appointments. Would you care to set a date?"
    "No possibility of seeing her now?"
    He pursed his lips and appeared to be giving my request serious consideration. "Mrs. Gloriana is busy with a client at the moment. May I ask how you learned of us?"
    I didn't believe mentioning the Yellow Pages
    would cut much ice. A personal recommendation might prove more efficacious.
    "Mrs. Lydia Gillsworth suggested I consult Mrs. Gloriana."
    He brightened immediately. "Mrs. Gillsworth. Of course. A charming lady."
    He stood and came from behind the desk. He was a tall one and lean as a fencer. He was wearing, I noted, a heavy ring of Navaho silver set with a large turquoise in the expensive sky-blue shade.
    "I'm Frank Gloriana," he said. "Hertha's husband."
    We shook hands. He had a hard, bony grip.
    "Archibald McNally," I said. "Happy to meet you."
    He stared at me a moment. "McNally?" he repeated. "The law firm across the lake?"
    "That's correct," I said. "McNally and Son. I'm the son."
    His smile was cool. "I've heard excellent things about your outfit. As a matter of fact, I may need some legal advice shortly, and McNally and Son heads a short list of possibles I have drawn up."
    "Glad to hear it," I said. "We have a number of specialized divisions, and I'm sure we can provide the services you require."
    "I'm sure you can. Your visit here today-it concerns some legal business of your firm?"
    "Oh no," I said hastily, "nothing like that. It's a personal thing, and I'm afraid you'll find it rather silly."
    "Try me," he said.
    "A close friend has lost his cat," I said earnestly.