Mason lit a cigarette. “A word to the wise,” he said.
“I’m supposed to read your mind?” Drake asked.
Mason nodded.
They drove in silence for several blocks, then Drake turned a corner and said, “This is the place — any particular angle of approach?”
“No,” Mason said, “we’ll have to pick up the cards and decide how to play our hand when we see what are trumps.”
They rang the bell twice, then heard steps on the stairs. The door opened. A blonde, attired in gold and brown lounging pajamas, stared at them with evident disappointment, and said, “Oh, I thought you were the man with the drapes.”
Mason said, “Miss Whittaker?”
She said, “Yes. Now don’t you boys tell me you’re working your way through college.”
“We want to talk with you,” Mason said.
“What about?”