I caught a glimpse of blond hair out of the corner of my eye, and glanced toward the entryway where Isabel, in a summery white dress with a navy belt and navy cloche cap, stood looking around for somebody. It must have been me, because when her eyes traveled my way, they stopped and her pretty face blossomed into a smile that made her prettier still, and she came quickly over.
“I thought you two weren’t an item anymore,” Leisure whispered.
“Me too,” I admitted.
“I was just leaving,” Leisure said, with a half-grin, standing, giving Isabel a courtly nod. “Miss Bell. You’re looking alluring, as always.”
“I hope I’m not chasing you off,” she said.
“No, no. I have to meet Mr. Darrow in just a few minutes.”
Her expression turned serious. “You’re going to keep Tommie and Mrs. Fortescue out of jail, aren’t you?”
“The effort’s under way,” he said. “We’re even including the sailor boys in the bargain.”
She clasped her hands in concern. “I meant them, too, of course.”
“Of course,” he said, nodded again, and was off.
I got up and pulled a chair out for her; her lovely heart-shaped face, perfectly framed by the short blond curls, beamed up at me. Her Chanel Number Five drifted up like an Island breeze and tickled my nostrils. The image of her face, eyes closed, mouth open, caught up in ecstasy on the beach, flashed through my mind.
We still hadn’t spoken since that night.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, as I sat back down.
“No, I’ve been working.”
“I wanted you to know something.”
“Oh, really? What’s that?”
Her smile was girlish, almost gleeful; she leaned in, touched my hand, whispered: “My friend is visiting.”
“What friend?”
“You know—
“Oh. That friend.”
So she wasn’t pregnant by the Jewboy after all.
“I’m sure you’re relieved,” she said.
“I’m sure you are.”
Her smile disappeared; her eyes drifted down. “I…I said some cruel things.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Awfully cruel things.”
“Yeah, well so did I.”
She looked into my eyes and hers were tearful. “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”
She was a stupid silly girl, and a bigot, to boot. But she was very pretty and under that summery white dress were two of the most perfect female breasts it had been my privilege in my imperfect male life to encounter.
“Of course you’re forgiven,” I said.
“Are you busy?”
“Not this minute.”
“We could go upstairs to your room, or my room…”
“Won’t that be awkward, with your ‘friend’ still visiting?”
She allowed her Kewpie lips to part a little wider than necessary for speaking purposes, then she licked them with the pinkest damn tongue and said, “There are all kinds of ways for a boy and girl to have fun.”
“Yowsah,” I said.
An Oriental waiter was drifting our way.
“You want something to drink, or eat, before we go up?” I asked her.
She shook her head, no, giving me a lovely lascivious look. “If we want something, there’s always room service.”
The waiter stopped next to me and I said, “Just the check, please.”
“Uh, Mr. Heller…Chinese gentleman waiting to see you in lobby.”
It was Chang Apana, standing with Panama in hand, looking mournful and very tiny next to a towering potted palm. I sent Isabel on up to her room, figuring this wouldn’t take long.
“Have news,” he said, bowing. “Shall we seek privacy?”
We found a table on the Coconut Grove
