The Witness (Badge of Honor 4)

The pretty face in the blond pageboy was no longer in sight.

“Well, maybe I should do my part for the noble cause,” Matt said.

You’re wasting your time. But on the other hand, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The blonde was not on the second floor. He went down to the lobby and saw the bar.

What I will do is get a drink, and then go upstairs.

There was a small wait in line, and then he found himself facing the bartender.

“Scotch, please. Water.”

“Any preference?”

Matt looked and saw that whatever else it did, the Opera Ball Club or whatever the hell it was really served fine booze.

“Famous Grouse, please. Easy on the water.”

He became aware, in less time than it takes to tell, first of an exotic perfume, then of an expanse of white flesh that swelled with exquisite grace before disappearing beneath a delicate brassiere, and then of warm breath on his ear.

“I hope you won’t be offended by my saying so, but your gun is showing,” the voice behind the warm breath on his ear said in almost a whisper.

It was the blonde in the pageboy.

For the first time he noticed that she was wearing a hat.

If half an ounce of black silk and silk netting can be called a hat, he thought.

What the hell did she say about a gun? God, I bet she has nice teats!

“I beg your pardon?”

She smiled, and laughed softly, and tugged on his arm, pulling his head down.

“Your gun,” she said. “It’s showing.”

This time when he smelled her breath, he picked up the smell of alcohol. Gin, he thought. He looked down at his leg and saw that his trouser leg was hiked up, caught by the butt of the pistol in his ankle holster.

Shit!

When I had to climb out of the goddamn car because of that asshole in the Cadillac in both my parking places, that’s when it happened.

He squatted and rearranged his trouser leg.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think anybody else noticed,” she said. “It was only because I was going downstairs that I saw it. You know what I mean?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Could I ask you a question? Out of pure idle—there being not much else to think about around here—curiosity?”

“Sure?”

“How many of you are there here tonight?”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?