"Naw." Lenny finished scanning the pages and showed them to T.S. "See for yourself."
It didn't help. He couldn't decipher a thing. He simply verified the address of Worthy Enterprises and thanked Lenny Melk for his help.
"My pleasure," the man replied, giving a portly bow. "Here, please, take my card in case you ever find yourself in need again of real estate consultancy services."
T.S. tucked it in his pocket along with the business card of Gregory Rogers, Dance Master Extraordinaire, and made his getaway. He managed to squeeze into the first elevator that arrived, which put him smack in the middle of an angry crowd of patrons who had not made the five o'clock deadline. Fortunately, no one had connected him with Lenny Melk and he felt relatively safe, with the exception of his wallet, which he discreetly patted periodically. He was, after all, in New York.
As he hurried from the building, he saw the small team of entrepreneurs lurking in the lobby and descending on the dissatisfied crowd, offering their services first thing in the morning. T.S. admired their nerve.
He stopped at the nearest public phone that worked, which turned out to be near Canal Street in the heart of Chinatown. Ignoring the shrieks of bargaining Chinese that whirled around him, he picked his way through the debris of a corner fish store and sought refuge in the gutter. Discarded lettuce lay across his shoe like a deflated balloon and he had to keep one finger firmly plugged in his free ear to hear the operator, but he finally obtained the number to Worthy Enterprises and, ignoring the glare of a waiting Chinese mother and small boy, quickly dialed it, not sure of what he would say.
"Good afternoon," a breathless voice answered. Another Marilyn Monroe wannabe. "This is the office of—" A garbage truck roared past, obliterating the rest of her sentence.
"Hello? Hello?" T.S. shouted. "Is this Worthy Enterprises?"
"Drop dead," the breathy voice replied. It was followed by a click.
It was a good thing Auntie Lil failed to warn him that she was also planning to invite Lilah to dinner as well as Herbert Wong. Had he known, T.S. would only have spent the few hours of preparation in being nervous. As it was, he had to endure a few seconds of a humiliating flush that crept up his neck when he spotted her waiting at the bar. Fortunately, Harvey's still believed that ambience required dim lighting and he knew his surprise had been well concealed.
"Got yourself a sunburn, Mr. Hubbert?" Frederick the bartender boomed.
"A sunburn?" he answered. "Why, no. I may have gotten a little more sun than anticipated today. It was quite warm, you know." He kept his eyes firmly away from Lilah.
"The usual?" Frederick asked him. "Auntie Lil has not yet arrived."
"The usual," T.S. confirmed. "My aunt called ahead?"
"No, but this lovely lady let me know the score." Frederick bowed briefly toward Lilah, who flashed T.S. a smile, giving him the opportunity to pretend that he had just spotted her.
"Lilah. What a lovely surprise." He slid onto the stool next to hers and immediately snagged the edge of his sweater on a splinter, pulling out a large loop of yellow yarn that gaped between them like spittle.
"Oh, your beautiful sweater," she fretted, unhooking him from the splinter. "Wait just a moment and I'll fix it." She produced a bobby pin from the depths of her upswept hair, releasing a charming lock of white strands that fell behind one ear. Holding the pin like a tiny sword, she reached one hand under T.S.'s sweater and he breathed in deeply, willing his potbelly to disappear, if only for the next fifteen seconds. She fumbled with the nap, located the offending string and hooked the pin around it, jerking it back through to the inside of his sweater with a quick tug. Holding the side seams tightly between two well-manicured hands, she stretched the nap smooth again. "There," she said, smiling shyly at T.S. "I used to do this for my daughters all the time."
"Not bad," Frederick interrupted from behind the bar. "I could use someone with your skills around my house." He set the Dewars and soda in front of T.S. It didn't stay there long.
"Thirsty?" Lilah inquired. "Have you had a hard day sleuthing?"
"Very hard," T.S. agreed. It seemed incredibly warm in Harvey's. You would think that with all the oak wainscoting and polished wood and brass and hanging plants that