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d woman dressed in evening clothes passed
Mike as he reached out and took Ostermeyer’s hand
switching his small overnight case to his left hand in
order to do it. The woman was blondedressed in
blackof courseand the light?owery smell of her per-
fume seemed to summarize New York. On the mezza-
nine levelsomeone was playing “Night and Day” in the
baras if to underline the summary.
“Mr. Enslin. Good evening.”
“Mr. Ostermeyer. Is there a problem?”
Ostermeyer looked pained. For a moment he glanced
around the smallsmart lobbyas if for help. At the
concierge’s standa man was discussing theater tickets
with his wife while the concierge himself watched them
with a smallpatient smile. At the front deska man with
the rumpled look one only got after long hours in Busi-
ness Class was discussing his reservation with a woman
in a smart black suit that could itself have doubled for
evening wear. It was business as usual at the Hotel Dol-
phin. There was help for everyone except poor Mr.
Ostermeyerwho had fallen into the writer’s clutches.
“Mr. Ostermeyer?” Mike repeatedfeeling a little
sorry for the man.
“No” Ostermeyer said at last. “No problem. ButMr.
Enslin . . . could I speak to you for a moment in my
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