"Didn't you manage the old Downtown Club?" Gabby asked suddenly.
"Yes, Miss."
"Don't you remember me? You used to send out for Italian cassata for me."
The manager smote his brow. "The ice cream lady! All your guests, of course. Please sign the members book." He produced an ancient double-entry ledger which Gabby signed in pencil. Lennox turned the pages back to December 24th and looked for the name Knott. It was not there. Neither was his own name. It was difficult to decipher anything from the smudged entries hastily scrawled in the dark.
"Does Mr. Knott come here very often?" Lennox asked.
The manager smiled hysterically and knew no one named Knott.
"Is Mr. Norman here tonight? Mr. Eugene K. Norman?"
"Somewhere on the floor," the manager told Lennox. He led the party to a small table surrounded by cases of empty beer and coke bottles, and disappeared before Lennox could ask any more questions. The waiter who descended on them for their orders was no help. At the table on their left were two magnificent blonde women with upswept hair and sequined evening gowns. On their right was an alcove filled with brooms, mops, and two sullen girls in angry conversation. Lennox got to his feet.
"Mind the store," he told the Shroff and the Killer. "I'm going to case the joint for Norman."
He went around the floor, politely inquiring after Mr. Eugene Norman. No one could help. The first girl he questioned, a Congo Venus with a bosom like pears, froze him so regally and yet with such exciting challenge that he didn't dare speak to another woman. Just alongside the dance band he came face to face with Roy Audibon.