“This is the public part, of course. Over there beyond the orchestra are the restrooms. You go through those doors into halls leading to another room like this in front, only smaller.”
“And more intimate?” Shayne grinned at her.
Lucile did not smile. “The restrooms open off the halls,” she went on solemnly. “It’s fixed that way, Henri said, so the common tourists won’t notice selected customers slipping into the other room during the course of the night. They simply go to the restrooms and don’t come back.” She lifted her glass and drank half of the faintly greenish liquid, making a wry face as she set it down. “I didn’t know gin ever tasted like this stuff does,” she complained.
“You’re just used to a better grade. You don’t have to drink it, you know.”
“I held my breath to keep from tasting what I did drink,” she said.
“What’s upstairs?” Shayne asked abruptly.
“Rooms,” she told him succinctly. “For hire by the hour, or longer — if you’re interested.”
“I’m not.”
Lucile pouted and said, “I was afraid I would be perfectly safe with you.”
Shayne looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “You work awfully hard at trying to fill the role of a wild woman.”