The striking redhead handed me an envelope and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Templar. I'll take a rain check on that offer of a drink. I don't expect the hundred I gave you to be enough to learn who killed my husband, so ring if you need more. But the killer must be found before I attend the opening of
Rigoletto. That awful voice on the phone said I'd die like Gilda, stabbed and stuffed in an old sack, and I won't even get to sing an aria."
I said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Verdi. It's in the bag. You just hired the best dick in the city."
She laughed softly. "That's good to know. I'd hate to settle for second best of... anything."
It was the way she said it, all low and husky like the lead dog in a snow job. Made me think she knew a thing or two about my business. Also, about detective work. I figured that rain check was just the meal ticket that would put some pizza in the pantry.
I watched her turn and walk away and smiled the way I smile when I know which way the wind is blowing. It was blowing from her to me, and it smelled good. The dame had legs that went all the way to the ground and then some. As she disappeared into the fog she glanced over her shoulder and said, "Remember. Saturday night. See you then."
Yeah, I thought. Saturday night. See you in the sack, but not like Gilda. You'll be live and warm and I'll make you sing an aria, all right.
How could I know I'd never see her again, except as a photo in the paper captioned "Verdi Fortune Heiress Missing After Freak Storm at Sea."?
Aztec Ruins (Holodeck scene)
Too hot to sleep
