CALL ME A CAB

After a slew of posthumous novels and reprints, the sad day arrives for what publisher Charles Ardai calls “this last lost book of Don’s,” originally published in abridgment in Redbook more than 40 years ago.

Marriage is not a commitment to make lightly, and New York–based Katharine Scott is naturally feeling eleventh-hour jitters about whether she should accept Los Angeles plastic surgeon Barry Gilbert’s proposal. Despite his profession, Barry is clearly Mr. Right: handsome, well-off, intelligent, and truly in love with Katharine. But the five-hour flight from coast to coast isn’t enough time to make up her mind, so she makes a novel proposal to Thomas Fletcher, the cabbie driving her to JFK: She’ll pay him $4,000 plus expenses to turn the car around, head west, and drive her to California instead. The trip will take close to a week, but that’s the idea; somewhere along the line, something will make up Katharine’s mind one way or the other. What happens is a series of low-level encounters, most of them never rising to the level of adventures—the two trade stories of their romances; they detour to drive a stranded woman in labor to a nearby hospital; they stop at three Kansas City airports before finding the one where a messenger with documents for Katharine to sign will be waiting; they share a pub crawl along the Kansas-Colorado border with an overgalvanized husband and wife who seem to have come straight out of a Prohibition musical—in between nights at a series of interchangeable Holiday Inns (with a single notable exception) until Katharine, delivered to Barry, can’t stall any longer.

Minor Westlake is still Westlake, and his many fans will turn the last page with a tear.