“Do you have his Chicago address?”
“Not with me,” she said. “I have it written down at home.”
“Oh!” I let my face show disappointment.
“I could look it up and have it for you tomorrow.”
“That would be fine. Have you known him long, Miss Fenn?”
She said, “No. He came to New Orleans about three or four weeks ago and was here for a couple of days. A friend of mine had given him a letter to me — asked me to show him around a little bit, and I showed him some of the more typical sights — you know, the restaurants and bars and things a tourist wants to see.”
“The French Quarter?” I asked.
“Oh, yes.”
I said, “I suppose that’s rather an old story to you people who live here, but it’s interesting to the tourists.”
She said, “Yes,” noncommittally.