CHAPTER ELEVEN
I grab a hamburger at the Legal Eagle. Mary O. asks where Blondie is and Jo Oakes takes time out from all the male customers who want exclusive service to try and sell me on cherry pie a la mode. Though it’s next to impossible to turn Jo down on anything, I do it. If I don't quit hitting the pie and ice cream, I'm going to have to buy new pants.
I leave my car in the lot and walk up to the Trade Winds, which is located by the Adams Hotel on Central Avenue. The Trade Winds is Arizona's answer to Hawaii. The interior of the club could have come directly from Waikiki. The juke box plays only Hawaiian music and Alfred Apaka, "The Voice of The Islands," is singing the song "Beyond The Reef" as I enter through the bamboo and bead curtains. It's early—there are only a few patrons
