Henri said, “I’ve got a hack outside,” and led the way across the lobby. He took them to a shiny old Packard sedan that said Taxi on the side. “I don’t have a meter,” he assured them as he opened the rear door.
Drake got in and sat stiffly erect with his hands folded over the crook of his cane. When Shayne slouched down on the rear seat beside him, he turned his head slightly and said, “I suppose we should introduce ourselves. My name is Drake.”
“And mine is Shayne. Are you a stranger in New Orleans?”
“With the exception of a few business trips.”
Shayne chuckled and smacked his lips. “It’s a good town for business — monkey business, eh?” He nudged his companion in the ribs.
Drake said, “Ha-ha,” then leaned forward to warn Henri, “Remember, I want to make the rounds. The — ah — most depraved places.”
Henri nodded and started the motor. “It’s a little early for the real hotsy-totsy joints. We’ll start with a pipe dive and sort of work our way up.”
Shayne said, “I need something to give me a lift. Maybe a pipeful will be just the thing. How about you, Drake?”
“If you are referring to opium, I confess I’ve never experimented.”
“What is your line?”