13Sadie emerged from the elevator at 5:05. She was clutching the arm of a tall, swarthy man like it was a five-hundred-dollar bill.
“Hi, Sadie,” I called. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Sadie Plotz looked as though she was about to do so.
“Ah … oh, hi there, Mr. DeWitt.” She gave me a wink and said that she hadn't seen me since we were celebrating my wife's birthday some years ago. That was a lie, of course. Sadie never met my wife. I suppose she didn't want Mr. Tall and Swarthy to think that I was an old beau.
“Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?” I asked. Her scowl told me that she didn't want to, but I had her trapped.
“Why certainly. d**k DeWitt, I'd like you to meet Pancho Juan O'Brien. Juan, this is d**k DeWitt. He's the husband of one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
