“Chocolate milkshake,” she said. “No — on second thought, I’ll have a lemon phosphate. I don’t want to spoil my dinner.”
Conway ordered for himself and Bauer, and he and Betty sat in the silence which had come to be habitual between them at meals. From where he sat he could see the detective in the phone booth; was it, he wondered, a routine checking in, or was it part of some devious scheme? He saw Bauer emerge from the booth, walk around the cosmetics counter, and speak to the waitress whose attention he had earlier tried to attract. He could see only a bit of her profile, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. As Bauer left her, Conway picked up the menu and studied it; he was pleased to discover that the machinations of the detective no longer upset or disturbed him. He had only to be patient for a little while: he knew that Bauer would tip his hand very quickly. He had no doubt as to his ability to cope with the mental gyrations of the sergeant. It was Betty he had to worry about.
“Order yet?” Bauer asked as he slid into the booth.
Conway’s eyes came up from the menu; he had apparently been unaware of the detective’s approach. He nodded. “Prices are certainly reasonable,” he said as he put the menu aside.
The waitress brought two large plates, covered with food, which might have been titled “Study in Monochrome.” The meat was gray, the potatoes were gray, the vegetables were gray. Different shades of gray, to be sure, but still gray. Conway made a mental note to remember this dish if ever he began to gain weight: it could be counted on to overcome any temptation to overeat.
“Wait’ll you try that,” Bauer said as he attacked the contents of his plate. Then he noticed the glass in front of Betty. “That all you’re having?” he demanded.
She favored him with an oversweet smile. “Every once in a while I go on a diet,” she said. “Just whenever I get the idea — and feel strong enough to resist food. This is the first time I’ve had enough will power in quite a while.”
Conway took a small bite of the meat; it was quite as bad as he had anticipated, and he looked at Bauer. The detective was struggling manfully.
“Not quite as good as usual,” he said. “But just the same, it’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, for the price?”
“The prices are certainly reasonable,” was the best Conway could manage. He wondered how much of this fodder he would have to choke down in order not to offend the detective.