“1 don?t discriminate.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe 1 ought to try and get a job on the Ledger,” I said, changing the subject.
“Why, for God?s sake?”
“1 don?t know much about women?s clothes but 1 can tell a silk designer dress when I see one. They
must pay-wel4-over there.”
She threw back her head and laughed hard. “Now that is a joke,” she said. “Did you ever know any
newspaper that paid well?”
„The waiter brought my screwdriver. I took a swallow or two and it definitely got the blood flowing
again.
“Actually my husband died young, the poor dear, and left me wonderfully provided for,” Babs said.
“You don?t sound real upset over losing him.”
“He was a delight, but he drank himself to death.”
“What did he do?” I asked, sipping at the screwdriver.
“Owned the hotel,” she said casually, but with a glint in her eyes.
“What hotel?”
“This hotel.”
“You own the Ponce?” I said.
“Every creaky inch of it. Actually I hired a very good man from California to run it before Logan
died. I love owning it but I dread the thought of having to run it.”
“You live here?”
She nodded and pointed toward the ceiling. “Six flights up. The penthouse, darling. Owning the joint
does have its perks. I have a beach place out on the Isle of Sighs but I don?t go out there much
anymore. It?s a bit too solitary.”
“I?m on the third floor,” I said. “I don?t have any perks.”
“Is there something wrong with your accommodations?” she asked. “If there?s a problem, I have a lot
of pull with the management.”
“The room?s fine, thank you.” I ordered coffee to chase the taste of vodka out of my mouth.
“What?s your room number? I?ll have them send up a basket of fruit.
“Three sixteen. I love fresh pineapple.”
“I?ll remember that. You were telling me what you?re doing here.”
“1 was?”
“Mm-hmm.”
