‘Yeah. I want you to get off right away. Paula will fix the details. You can have what spending money you want within reason. You won’t object to a trip to Paris, will you?’
Kerman rolled his eyes and tried to conceal his excitement.
‘I’ll put up with it,’ he said. ‘It’s in a .good cause. Besides, from what I hear these French wrens are pretty accommodating.’
‘They’ll need to be if you’re going to hum around them,’ Paula said tartly.
IV
Mrs. Martha Bendix, Executive Director of the Bendix Domestic Agency and an office neighbour of mine, was a big, hearty woman with a male haircut and a laugh like the bang of a twelve-bore shotgun. She was coming out of her office as I was coming out of mine, and, as soon as I saw her, I knew I wanted to talk to her.
‘Hello there, Vic,’ she boomed. ‘Where have you been hiding yourself? Haven’t seen you in days.’
‘I want to see you, Martha. Can you spare a moment?’
She looked at her wrist-watch, about the size of a cartwheel, decided after all she wasn’t in any hurry and opened the office door.
‘Come on in. Suppose you want to pick my brains again, huh? I gotta date, but it’s nothing important.’