Free McNally's Risk by Lawrence Sanders Page A

rye. Life can be beautiful.
    I found the Johnsons' condo to be on ground level and smallish. I figured if you stood on a chair and peered out the kitchen window to your left you might catch a glimpse of Lake Worth. But it was located in a decent neighborhood, the landscaping was well-groomed, and if the building didn't shout big bucks, there was really nothing to apologize for.
    What suddenly made me think it a place of magical charm was that Theodosia Johnson opened the door when I rang, and my knees buckled. She gave me a smile as inflammatory as a nuclear meltdown, and I was immediately convinced that True Love did exist and I was its latest willing victim.
    I saw her clothed in golden gossamer, though actually she was wearing white linen shorts and a man's rugby shirt the same color as her sky-blue eyes. Her long chestnut hair was bound up in a braid and piled atop her head. No queen ever wore a lovelier crown.
    She addressed me as Archy, and I was so grateful I wanted to roll on my back on the floor and beg to have my stomach scratched. But instead I followed her through a short foyer to the living room, where she invited me to be seated and asked if I'd care for a drink.
    My tongue seemed swollen to unmanageable proportions, and all I could do was shake my head. I simply could not stop staring at her. I know the room was decorated and contained furniture, but don't ask me to describe it; I only had eyes for Madam X, and the rest of the universe faded away.
    "You heard about Si Hawkin?" she asked sorrowfully.
    I nodded. "Dreadful," I said, not believing that croaky voice was mine.
    "I wept for hours," she said. "He was such a good friend. And a major talent, don't you think?"
    "Major," I repeated, wondering how I could stop my head from bobbing up and down like one of those crazy little birds that sips water perpetually from a glass.
    "It must have been awful for his family," she went on.
    She was trying her best to make conversation, poor dear, but I was so overwhelmed by her beauty that I could contribute nothing. I, Archy McNally, sometimes known to his confreres as Mighty Mouth, sat there like a perfect clod, and if my jaw was agape I wouldn't have been a bit surprised.
    "Father will be along in a minute," Theo said, "and then I'll leave you two alone to talk business."
    The possibility of her disappearing from view shocked me back to volubility. "Please don't do that," I beseeched. "I hope to speak to your father about your purchasing or leasing another property, and I'd be happy to hear your requirements as well as his. It's been my experience that women are much more knowledgeable than men in the planning or selection of a livable home."
    "I do have some very definite ideas about what I'd like to have," she said. "For instance, daddy knows absolutely nothing about gardens."
    I wasn't so stunned by her loveliness that I didn't pick up on that. I thought it exceedingly odd that a man who claimed to be an expert on orchids—according to my mother—would know absolutely nothing about gardens. Possible but highly unlikely.
    Theo was speaking of her dream of someday having a home with a private gym when a beefy, thick-necked linebacker came striding energetically into the room.
    "Heck Johnson," he shouted, thrusting out his hand.
    "Archy McNally," I said, rising to my feet and shaking that big paw. His grip wasn't exactly a bone-crusher, but you knew it was there.
    "What's this?" he demanded, looking about. "No drinks? Theo, you're neglecting your duties as a hostess."
    "I did ask, dad, but Archy turned me down." She smiled. She had one dimple. Left cheek. Oh, lord! I was a goner.
    "Nonsense," he said, and turned to me. "I'm having a vodka gimlet. Theo gets it just right. How about it?"
    "Thank you, Heck, I will."
    "Of course," he said. "Theo, be a darling and mix two of your specials."
    "Three," she said, and left the room.
    He waved me back to my wicker armchair and sat in the middle of a couch facing me. He crossed