“A writer. I’m getting material for a novel.”
“Which the producer was interested in.”
“Exactly.”
“And how did you figure the job?”
She was silent for a few moments, her eyes turned to a corner but not looking at anything.
“I’ve been able to get the necklace in my hands long enough to count the pearls while I was admiring them, and take a wax impression of one of them for size. I’m having an imitation made in New York. As soon as it gets here, I’ve only got to make the switch.”
Simon showed his respect.
“You can write scripts for me, any time,” he said.
“Now tell me your angle,” she responded.
“Darling, I never had one.”