Further, that she had a loose hand with a telephone, both local and L.D. There were quite a lot of the long-line charges. None of them were to Dallas. Or any place in Texas. There were six to Lexington, Kentucky. One for each day. One extra for Saturday.
Reidy cocked a canny eye at me. “Something?”
“Thing that killed the cat, that’s all. Saw her few minutes ago with a lad who didn’t seem in her handicap division. Always thinking of the guests’ welfare. See framed motto.”
He wasn’t fooled. “Want me to put her on the Watch List?”
“I’ll do it if it’s necessary.” Reidy’s a right boy, but like all assistant managers, suffers from the illusion he can boss the security office around. “You skin your own snakes.”
“Hope you lose every bet at the Garden.” He grinned.
I went out to see Pete Zingara.
“Miss Marino? Zounds and gadzooks!” Zingy did a soft-shoe break beside the bell desk. “Halfies all the time. Never less than halfies. Sometimes she gives with the buck, on drugstore errands. For headache powders, stuff from the prescription, like that.”
“Order much of that, does she?” Only customer I hate more’n a glass-smashing drunk is one of those sleeping-pill beauties. If she was one.
“Nah, not so much.” He saw I was serious. “She’s swell folks. Owns a flock of oil wells or something. But nice and quiet, I mean. Real friendly. And that maid of hers — whoo-deedoo!”