"Hello, Charley, how are you?" Pickering said.
The doorman snatched Stecker's small bag from his hand and passed it to the bellman.
"Put the gentlemen's luggage in 24-A," the doorman ordered as he relieved Pickering of his small bag and gave it to the bellman.
Twenty-four-A and 24-B were a pair of terraced four-room suites that overlooked Central Park. The only more prestigious accommodation in the Foster Park was 25, the Theodore Roosevelt Suite, whose nine rooms occupied the entire front of the 25th floor.
The doorman walked quickly to open the door for the two lieutenants.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Pickering?" he asked as Pickering walked past him.
"Don't get between me and the men's room," Pickering said.
"The last time I met nature's call was somewhere over Maryland.
The doorman chuckled.
"I believe you know where to find it, Sir."
"How could I forget?" Pickering said.
The resident manager of the Foster Park Hotel, in a gray tailcoat and striped trousers, was standing a discreet distance from the entrance to the gentlemen's facility when Lieutenants Pickering and Stecker came out, "Good evening, Mr. Pickering," he said. "A pleasure to have you in the house, Sir."
"And it's always a pleasure to be here."
"There are no messages, Sir, I checked. And I had a small bar set up in 24-A. If there is anything else?"
"Very kind of you. I can't think of a thing. Thank you."
"Have a pleasant evening, Sir."
"We're going to try," Lieutenant Stecker said.
"Starting, I think," Pickering said, with a snort in the bar."
There were perhaps two dozen people in the dimly lit bar, mostly couples and quartets sitting at tables, but with several pairs of single men at tables and two other single men sitting at the bar.
There were also two strikingly attractive young women sitting together at a table in the corner.
The bartender addressed Pickering by name, adding, "Famous Grouse, an equal amount of water, and a little ice, right?"
"You have the memory of an elephant," Pickering said.
"Give my cousin one of the same."
"I'm not related to him," Stecker said, almost a reflex action, and then: "Did you see what's sitting in the corner?"
"Yes, indeed. I think he works for the Morgan Bank."
"I meant the blonde and her friend," Stecker said, even as he realized that Pickering had again successfully pulled his chain.
"Oh," Pickering said. "Her.
The bartender delivered the drinks. Pickering sipped his and then got off the stool.
"You keep the target under surveillance while I check on the car," he said. "Try not to slobber and drool."
He walked out of the bar carrying his drink, then through the lobby to the revolving door to the street. When he caught the doorman's eye, he motioned him over.
"What's up?" the doorman asked, his tone considerably less formal than it had been.
"The two ladies in the bar," Pickering said. "Are they what I think they are?" The doorman now looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Jesus, Pick."
"Answer yes or no."
"Yes and no. They are. But they aren't working the bar, Pick. I know better than that."
"Tell me, Charley."
"I don't know if they're free-lancing, working the bars at the Plaza or the St. Regis, or whether they're a couple of Polly Adler's girls. Or somebody else's. They come in every couple of nights, have a couple of drinks, and leave. They never so much as make eyes at any of our guests."
"They know you know?"
"Sure.
"I want to go to bed," Pickering said, and then when he saw the look in Charley's eyes, added, "Alone. And early. My buddy, on the other hand, is randy. Since we have to get up at four goddamn A.M., I'm in no mood to prowl the nightclubs. Getting the picture?"
"Sure. Which one?"
"He likes the blonde."
"Who wouldn't? That'd be expensive, Pick."
Pickering reached into his trousers pocket and came up with a wad of bills. He counted out three, twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Charley.
"Not that much, Pick. All he's going to do is rent it for a little while."
"I don't want him to know that, right? If there's any left over, leave it in an envelope at reception."
"I understand."
"Get rid of the other one."
"You must be tired."