So here Harry was that evening at the bar in the Tiki, waiting for the overdue Aldo, then stunned by Esther’s grand entrance wearing clothes she must surely have purchased that day with his money.
Harry tried to stroll casually over from the bar to join her after she’d seated herself at a corner table with a settee. He’d drawn the obvious conclusion that she was wearing his money, but he wasn’t about to call her on it just yet. Now his suspicions were growing. For all he knew, he wasn’t the only guy she’d hit up before she’d set out for town. But he feared asking her would give her an opening to walk him triumphantly down some rogues’ gallery, which was a gloomy corridor less painful for him to imagine than to confront in reality. He calculated she was in her mid to late thirties. Yes, th
