She poured three inches of Scotch into both glasses and added a teaspoonful of Whiterock to each.
“That look about right to you?”
“That looks fine,” I said, reaching out a willing hand. “Maybe I’d better introduce myself.
I’m Vic Malloy. Just plain Vic to my friends, and all good-looking blondes are my friends.”
She sat down, not bothering to adjust her skirts. She had nice knees.
“You’re the first caller we have had in five months,” she said. “I was beginning to think there was a jinx on this place.”
“From the look of it, there is. Straighten me out on this, will you? The last time I was here it was an estate, not a blueprint for a wilderness. Doesn’t anyone do any work around here any more?”
She lifted her shapely shoulders.
“You know how it is. Nobody cares.”
“Just how bad is Maureen?”