“Across the street?”
“Turnbull and Asser is right across from the hotel. Won’t take a minute.”
Shames looked down at his shirt. “Guess it couldn’t hurt,” he said.
“They have shoes, too.”
3
AS THEY PASSED THROUGH THE LIVING ROOM OF THE huge suite, a woman’s voice rang out.
“Thad?”
Shames and Stone stopped and turned. An attractive young woman wearing a chef’s smock was waving from the adjacent dining room.
“Yes, Callie?” Shames replied.
“Do you have any idea how many for lunch, yet? I’m turning it over to the caterers, and they’d sure like to know.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Tell them to plan for a hundred. If there are leftovers we can donate them to a good cause.”
“Right,” she said. “See you in PB.”
Shames rang for the elevator. “Now, about Liz,” he said to Stone. “What do you want to know?”
“Describe her appearance.”
Shames held a hand across his chest. “She comes up to about here.”
“Five-five, five-six?”
“I guess.”
“Was she wearing heels?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hair color?”
“A dark brunette.”
“Long? Short?”
“To her shoulders; maybe a bit longer.”
“How old was she?”
“Thirtyish, I guess.”
“Weight?”
“Mediumish, I suppose.”
“Body?”
“Attractive.”
“Anything else distinctive about her appearance? Nose?”