We followed him over to the table he indicated and sat down. “Marilyn Winton works here?” Hale asked.
“Yes. She’s the girl in the cream-colored satin.”
“Marvelous figure,” Hale commented appreciatively.
“Uh huh.”
“I wonder if we could arrange to — well, you know, how are we going to get a chance to talk with her?”
“She’ll be over.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I have a hunch.”
Marilyn had been in the game long enough so that when men’s eyes started boring a hole in her back she turned instinctively.
She smiled; then she came over.