Fredrick had taken them to one side.
“Do you see the young lady over near the window on the park? The rather gauche appearing type?”
It was a teenager, all right. A youngster up to her eyebrows in the attempt to project sophistication.
Steve said, “Do you know who she is?”
“No,” Fredrick said. “Hardly our usual clientele.”
“Oh?” Larry said. “She looks like money.”
Fredrick said, “The dress appears as though it is of Chez Marie, but she wears it as though it came from Klein's. Her perfume is Chanel, but she has used approximately three times the quantity one would expect.”
“That's our girl, all right,” Steve murmured. “Where can we keep an eye on her until she leaves?”
“Why not at the bar here, Messieurs?”
“Why not?” Larry said. “I could use a drink.”