Day Three
July 23, 1952
Wednesday Evening
Waverly swung by Emmanuelle LeFavre’s hotel to see if she was in, which she wasn’t, then headed back to the financial district and took up a post in an alley across the street from the Brown Palace. She hadn’t been in position more than ten minutes when what she hoped would happen actually did, namely Bristol and his woman-friend swung out of the revolving doors and onto the sidewalk.
Staying back as far as she could without losing line of sight, she followed them two blocks up to where the woman stayed outside on the sidewalk while Bristol disappeared into the doors of Jackson amp; Reacher, Denver’s second largest law firm.
What was he up to?
Waverly crossed the street and found an innocuous spot where she could keep an eye on the woman through the glass of a parked Olds.
The spankee wore a short red dress.
Her legs were shapely.
Her nylons had a seam up the back.
Her hair was bouncy and blond.
She leaned against the building and smoked as she waited. A passing car honked at her and someone shouted, “Hey, baby!”
She ignored it.
She must have the envelope by now. Would she show up at ten?
For half an hour, not much changed. Then Bristol emerged. With him was a female, conservatively dressed, holding a pencil in her hand as if she’d been taking notes. She looked familiar, Waverly had seen her around somewhere before.
Where?
Then she remembered.
She saw her at the El Ray Club last weekend, Friday night, dressed like a slut and getting drunk. She was having no problem getting men to keep her glass full. One of those men had an uncanny resemblance to Robert Mitchum.
She got introduced to the red-dress blond, smiled and shook hands, mouthed a few words and disappeared back into the building.
Bristol and the red-dress walked up the street.
Waverly followed, cutting through the traffic onto their side. Passing by the law firm, she stopped long enough to read the names stenciled on the door.
There was only one female name.
Gina Sophia, Esq.
She memorized the name and continued up the street. If she got the chance later, she’d break into the slutty little lawyer’s office and see what her precious notes said; either that or somehow get her out for a drink and let the liquor loosen her up.