Anything You Can Do - By Sally Berneathy Page 0,52

and tighter on you than it was on me, but that's all to the good," Paula mused, ignoring Bailey's protestations and continuing to rummage in her closet. "Now for a blouse. Let's see, we need to show some skin."

"Oh, I don't think so." Bailey held the skirt in front of her. It was a good six inches above her knees. "This should be about maximum on the skin."

Paula tossed a fuchsia tube top and a short teal blouse with waist ties onto her bed.

"Do you actually wear these things?" Bailey questioned.

"Of course I do, and so do lots of other women. It's very trendy." She opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of black nylons. "Just the right touch," she approved. "Now come on to the bathroom so I can make you up."

"This is still in the supposition stage," Bailey balked. "I don't really think I can walk in that bar, made up like a floozy, and spy on Candy Miller."

Paula folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "You said you wanted to get in that bar and find out what she's up to since there were no clues in your omnipotent files. You'll stand out like a sore thumb dressed in your own clothes."

Bailey eyed the costume dubiously.

"So make up your mind. I haven't got all night. I have to get ready for my date with the real Prince Channing. "

"I told you Gordon would come through."

Paula shrugged. "We'll see."

"He sends you a flower arrangement so big it's obscene, and invites you to dine at the Peppercorn Duck Club. What else do you want to see?" Bailey took the stockings from Paula and added them to the pile of clothes on the bed. "Let's do my face and then determine if I can carry off this crazy scheme of yours."

Thirty minutes later Paula turned Bailey to the mirror to see her handiwork. Bailey gasped, peered closer, laughed. A heavily made-up face batted false eyelashes beneath curly blond hair.

"Your own mother wouldn't know you," Paula promised.

"She wouldn't claim me, that's for sure. Where did you get this awful wig?" She touched the short curls tentatively.

Paula leaned into the shower to turn on the water. "It's part of a Halloween costume I wore a few years ago."

"That does it. I will not go out in public dressed in a Halloween costume."

"Relax. Those clothes aren't part of the costume. The wig goes with a Shirley Temple pinafore. But you do what you please. Just get out of my bathroom so I can shower. Go try on the clothes and sit and think for a while about how badly you need this information. Then we'll talk about it while I get dressed."

An hour later Bailey was sitting on a barstool in the dimly lit B&B Lounge, sipping a screwdriver and feeling ridiculous. In spite of Paula's reassurance, she didn't exactly blend into the woodwork. Every man in the place had given her the once-over, and a few had made suggestive comments when she walked in.

"Hi, babe." This latest voice came from right beside her. The troops were closing in. She turned to see a bulky, bearded male on the next stool. "You sure are looking good," he said.

"Thank you," she said tentatively, unsure if it was the proper response.

It must have been. The man grinned hugely.

"Haven't seen you in here before."

"I haven't been in here before." Getting picked up by King Kong wasn't part of her plan, but she didn't suppose she could afford to alienate a regular who might know Candy.

"How 'bout another one?" He indicated her drink.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'm fine. My boyfriend's due before long, and he doesn't like me to drink too much." That should cool him down.

"Your boyfriend, huh? Too bad."

"Say, if you come in here a lot, maybe you know a couple of my friends, Candy Miller and Alvin Wilson. I was kind of wondering if they'd be in tonight."

"Sure I know Candy and Al. She ought to be here pretty soon, but he don't come in with her since they got that car wreck thing going. Don’t want anybody to find out they know each other."

The man drained what remained of his beer in one gulp and slammed the empty can onto the bar, causing Bailey to jump at least six inches.

"Ready for another one, Mike?" the bartender asked as he replaced the can with a full one.

Bailey's heart raced as she clutched her own drink in both hands and made a pretense of