Chapter 17
GUASTIS, a couple of blocks down Spring Street from Civic Center, was a popular luncheon spot for jurists, lawyers, the upper crust of the bail bond racket and in fact for anybody who wanted to spend two dollars for lunch and had business in the neighborhood. At one o’clock it was pretty crowded, but not too crowded to make room for a man of Webb Fallon’s calibre and reputation, and for his two guests who by inference must be equally important.
The maître rather ostentatiously removed the length of plush rope blocking off one of the more secluded booths, slid the table aside so that Charity and Fallon might enter, slid it the other way to make room for McCord. He was very happy to see Mr. Fallon again, he said, and still being happy about it he clapped his hands for a waiter.
