They didn’t have to wait long. A tall individual, dressed in a soiled seersucker suit and a Panama hat that had seen better days, sauntered up to their table. From his coat pocket he extracted a bottle of perfume that Vicki recognized as a famous French brand.
“For the young ladies,” the man said in broken English. “Five dollars.”
Vicki knew the perfume cost three times that in New York or Tampa.
Mr. Curtin pretended to think it over. Then he handed the bottle back to the man and shook his head. The peddler returned the bottle to his coat pocket and walked away as casually as he had approached.
In a few moments a second man strolled up to their table, an old suitcase in his hand. Without a word, he put the case on the tabletop and opened it. Inside was some of the most beautiful lace Vicki had ever seen. She couldn’t repress an exclamation of admiration.
“Ah,” the man said, revealing broken yellow teeth in a wide grin. “The señorita knows fine lace. Direct from Spain, señor! A great bargain.”
Again Mr. Curtin pretended to be trying to make up his mind. And again he shook his head no.
“My goodness, Daddy!” Louise exclaimed when the man had gone. “That’s the dreamiest lace I ever saw in my life. Can’t we buy just one teeny little piece? It would look wonderful with my new white evening dress! What do you say, Daddy?”
Mr. Curtin laughed. “Am I going to have to spank you too? That’s stolen goods, honey. We look just for fun. But that’s all.”
A third man detached himself from a doorway and headed in their direction.