I felt Speratza at my elbow.
Herrick turned abruptly away and walked across the room and out into the lobby.
I looked at Speratza and he looked at me. There was just a flicker of doubt in his eyes that told me he was uneasy.
“That was not one of the Welcome Committee,” I said.
“You don’t have to worry about him,” Speratza said, flashing on his smile. It cost him something, but he did it. “He’s running for election next month.” He pulled a little face, and added, “On a Reform ticket.”
“Seems anxious to keep Paradise Palms a nice clean town,” I said dryly.
“All politicians have platforms,” Speratza said, shrugging. “No one takes him seriously. He won’t get in. Ed. Killeano is the people’s choice.”
“That’s nice for Ed. Killeano,” I said.
We looked at each other again, and then Speratza waved.
A girl came across the room towards us. She was wearing a bolero for a dinner jacket of blue crepe. Her skirt, split eight inches up the side, was of blue crepe, too, but her blouse was red. She was a blonde, and I bet every time she passed a graveyard the corpses sat up to whistle after her.