Chapter Five
“So you makin’ any money?” Betty placed half an olive on a small square of cheese and slipped it between richly painted lips.
“Some, but it doesn’t come easily.” Ann looked about the small restaurant. It was typical of Betty to choose a place in the financial district at lunchtime; the tables were crowded with men; affluent men; divorced and attractive men. Betty was on the prowl.
“Money is money,” Betty said, philosophically. “The important thing is you still got a roof over your head.”
“And enough to buy us a bottle of wine,” Ann giggled, patting the envelope that Mr. Pendfold had left for her.”
“Make mine beer.” Betty turned to study two men at an adjoining table, noticed the gold bands and swiveled in the opposite direction. “So you’ve worked for anyone interesting?”
