“Ah, well. How would you define an absence of parsimony?”
“Before a man can be generous with you, he must first be generous with himself. Then, if he is paying three thousand pounds for a Savile Row suit, two hundred for a Jermyn Street shirt, and two thousand a pair for shoes, he cannot, in good conscience, deprive his woman of similar accoutrements. He cannot travel in first class and expect her to occupy steerage.”
“Ah, so I should encourage him to dress more expensively and travel better?”
“Certainly. Then, as the night follows the day . . .”
“You’re an eminently sensible man, Hamish.”
“And of course, the frequency of and competency in sex must be sustained at a high level.”
“No objections there,” Kelli said. “More often, my men have been unable to keep up.”
Hamish laughed.
“I don’t suppose you would care to form a more lasting bond than a one-nighter in a grand hotel?”
“We can talk about that,” Hamish replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Excuse me, call of nature.”
Kelli looked around. “Where can I find a robe?”
“Closet,” Hamish replied, closing the bathroom door.
Kelli got out of bed and approached the closet, of which there were two. She chose the left and found herself staring at a steamer trunk.
Then there was singing coming from the bathroom, in a language she did not understand.
44
Herbie Fisher and his girl, Harp Connor, got off their airplane at LAX and hoofed it to baggage claim, where they found a small booth emblazoned with the name THE ARRINGTON. Minutes later they were ensconced in a Bentley, headed for the hotel.
Herbie called Stone Barrington’s cell number.
“Hello, Herb, welcome to L.A. Where are you?”
“On the way from the airport. Be there in, I don’t know, twenty minutes?”
“It’s going to take longer than that, pal. Getting through the front gate is going to take a while and may require a cavity search.”
“Are you serious?”
“Almost. We’ve got two presidents in residence. Come for dinner tonight?”
“Love to. How are we dressing?”
“We’re doing it New York style—wear a necktie. Oh, and there’s a secret guest of honor.”
“Who’s that?”
“Didn’t I just say it’s a secret? Drinks at seven. Ask your bellman to show you my cottage on the site map. See ya!” Stone hung up.
“We’re invited for dinner, and there’s a secret guest of honor,” Herbie said to Harp.
“Who?”
“Didn’t I just say it’s a secret? Listen, Stone managed to get us into the hotel on short notice, but it will be a room, not a suite, and it may be small.”
“I can live with that,” Harp replied. “I’m a simple woman. All I need is a closet, a bed, a bathtub, and a minibar.”