I grinned at him. “I know damn well you won’t, and for once I don’t blame you. I’ll get it.”
I went out and strode down the corridor to McNair’s office, entered, heaved his chair to my shoulder, and proceeded back to the booth with it. Frost and the two goddesses were going in as I got there. Frost went for another chair, and I planked my prize down behind the table and observed to Wolfe, “If you get so you like it we’ll take it home with us.” Frost returned with his contribution, and I told him, “Go and get three bottles of cold light beer and a glass and an opener. We’ve got to keep him alive.”
He lifted his brows at me. “You’re crazy.”
I murmured, “Was I crazy when I suggested that letter from the orchid guys? Get the beer.”
He went. I negotiated myself into a chair with the blonde pippin on one side and the sylph on the other. Wolfe was sniffing the air. He suddenly demanded:
“Are all of these booths perfumed like this?”
“Yes, they are.” The blonde smiled at him. “It’s not us.”
“No. It was here before you came in. Pfui. And you girls work here. They call you models?”
“That’s what they call us. I’m Thelma Mitchell.” The blonde waved an expert graceful hand. “This is Helen Frost.”
Wolfe nodded, and turned to the sylph. “Why do you work here, Miss Frost? You don’t have to. Do you?”