Chapter 10The next day I took a bath and shaved, pouring on a liberal amount of Bay Rum afterwards, but decided not to change my underwear since I had not as yet been wearing them for a full week. I did put on my fancy duds, however, in anticipation for the drinky-poo or two or more that was on tap for my visit to Scarlett. Having neglected to unpack it, the suit that I had brought from home possessed more wrinkles than the old actress Maria Ouspenskaya. But the shirt and tie were clean. Or nearly so. Then I put on my coat, my green fedora, and my galoshes and headed for my appointment. The shamus was on his way.
The Garden of Allah, a complex of a hotel and about two dozen bungalow apartments where Scarlett was living, was quite a bit west of where I was staying, say, a continent or two.
