I don’t know enough about ivory technique to tell whether she was good or not, but her playing was brisk and full of spirit.
The tune was We Won’t Go Home Until Morning; but the words some baritone was enunciating carefully weren’t the ones I knew:
“These are the hands of a charmer
Millions of people have seen
In magazines, newspapers, movies,
And now — on our Stack O’ Jack screen—”
The camera pushed right down close on the hands. The hands and keyboard vanished. A huge question mark took the center of the bulb.
“You understand now, Vine?” Lanerd gave me the chummy, confidential tone, the buddy-to-buddy lift of the bushy gray eyebrows.
“No.” I took a step away from the bedroom door, but stopped, hearing the soft snick of a key in a door lock close by.
“The Stack O’ Jack secret.” Apparently he hadn’t heard the key. “The answer to the twenty-five-thousand-dollar question.”