“Still working on the money I left you?” he asked the waiter.
“Yes, sir.” He glanced at his tab. “She’s only had ten since you left.”
“In that case,” said Shayne gravely, “by all means bring her another. And a double cognac for me.”
“Yes, sir.” He smiled amiably and went away. Shayne put his finger tips on Ann’s shoulder and said, “Hi.”
She lifted her head slowly and looked up at him with disinterest. Her eyes had a glazed expression, but she enunciated perfectly when she answered, “Hi, yourself. And who the hell are you?”
“Your favorite detective. Remember?” He moved around and slid into the seat opposite her. “The one who pays for all your drinks,” he added.
“Oh, that one.” She tilted her glass and squinted at the contents. “Then why the hell don’t you?”
“What?”
“Pay for a drink.”
“Coming right up,” Shayne said cheerfully as the waiter arrived with reinforcements.