Then she opened the door a couple more notches and push-ed the card back at me.
‘Let’s see die money.’
A simple, direct soul, I thought, who gets straight to the point of interest and doesn’t bother to ask unnecessary questions.
I took out my bill-fold and showed her two crisp clean ten-dollar bills. I didn’t give them to her. I just showed them to her.
She eyed them the way a small child eyes Santa Claus’s sack, and opened the door.
‘Come on in. I don’t care who you are, but those berries certainly make my palms itch. Sure it’s information you want?’
I stepped past her into a room a little larger than 23, and much more pleasant and comfortable. There was a divan, a settee, two armchairs, a couple of expensive Chinese rugs on the grey fitted carpet and a bowl of red-and-yellow begonias on a table in the window recess.
I put my hat down on a chair and said I was sure it was information I wanted.
She held out a white hand with dark red, polished nails.
‘Let’s have half. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it’s a good principle. You can have a drink if you like, or coffee.’