“They fall for it, eh?”
“I tell you, they eat it up. Women who would slap your face if you tried to say anything off-colour in private, sit out there right in front of the whole damn dining-room and laugh their heads off at stuff I tell them that’s just as close to the borderline as I can get by with it. What the hell do you want?”
“I wanted to find out something about a woman.”
“Oh, my God!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Getting me up at this hour over a woman. God, I can give you the names and telephone numbers of five hundred of them.”
“You know a lot of them?”
“I know every hustler in town.”
“This may not be a hustler. She has been in the Cabanita recently.”
“What about her?”