19.

“AND THEN THE check came, and mind you, there were fourteen of us, so I just divided fourteen into four hundred dollars and said everyone owed twenty-eight dollars.” Laura Lee took a vicious bite out of her Roquefort burger. “And would you believe this weenie started carryin’ on about how she hadn’t eaten any rice so she shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

Wetzon cut her Roquefort burger into four pieces, setting the top of her bun aside.

“You can well afford to eat the whole thing, you know,” Laura Lee said. “And then I said to her, do y’all think we’re just goin’ to sit here and wait till everyone figures out what he owes without an addin’ machine at eleven o’clock at night?” She took another bite out of her burger. “Annie was wild. Here we were, it was Vittorio’s birthday party. He’d invited all these people, everyone came knowin’ full well it was pay for yourself. Annie and I chipped in for the cake—damn.” Her burger was oozing out of the bun, dripping juices and melted cheese. Laura Lee dropped the burger on her plate, licked the melt off her fingers, picked it up, and finished it off.

Wetzon grinned at her. “You do have an adventurous social life.” She reached into her purse, found a Wash ’n Dry, and handed it to Laura Lee.

“And then Annie was sayin’ in such a loud voice all the way down in the elevator, ‘What a bunch of stiffs.’ I had to keep shushin’ her.” Laura Lee’s eyes gleamed. She’d let the blond tips in her chestnut hair grow out and now wore it in full waves on top of her head and very sleek and short on the sides and back. It was incredibly becoming, making her look like a sophisticated pixie.

“I do love your hair.”

“Why don’t you think about doin’ it yourself?” Laura Lee rubbed her fingers and hands with the Wash ‘n Dry.

“Doing what?”

“Changin’ your do.”

“Me? God, no. I’d never have the nerve.” Wetzon patted her topknot, which she’d worn since her early days as a dancer. “God, it would be like an amputation.”

Laura Lee laughed. “You’re such a stodge. One day I’ll get you in a weak moment.”

They finished off the Diet Cokes, paid the bill, and crossed the mushy street to Saks. If anything, the air was more humid, the sun hotter.

“Jesus,” Wetzon said. “It’s like being in hell.”

“What would you know about that, darlin’? Of course, you are dressed to the gills.” Laura Lee looked cool in a short silk skirt, black with white polka dots, and a silk tee-shirt, white with black polka dots. She had a full half dozen beaded Indian bracelets on her wrist, and her bare feet were in black patent sandals.

“I had to be at Luwisher Brothers for a meeting this morning.”

“On a Saturday? Isn’t that carryin’ things too far?”

“One does what one must.”

They took the escalator to the second floor.

“The Max Maras are on sale,” Laura Lee said.

“I like Armani better.”

“Yes, but who can afford Armani, even on sale?” She stopped at the Calvin Klein area and rummaged through the rack of sales items. “I hate those guys.”

“What guys?” Wetzon looked at the price tag on a linen jacket. “Yipes.”

“You know. Hoffritz and Bird. Search and Destroy.”

“How do you know them?” She gave Laura Lee her undivided attention.

“Come on, Wetzon, everybody knows everybody on the Street. Now Goldie, he was somethin’ else. Look at this, Wetzon.” She had pulled a navy skirt from the rack. “Your size.”

“Laura Lee, the police say Goldie was murdered.”

“I know. I heard it on the news.”

Two women with too much curly hair and chunky gold jewelry on the other side of the rack stopped and listened.

Wetzon pulled Laura Lee to a less populated corner of the sportswear section. “This is just between you and me, not including the two ladies from Great Neck. While I was there this morning, a consultant for the company was murdered.”

“Ooooh?” Laura Lee’s mouth formed an O. “Well, it’s no wonder you’re off your feed. How could I be so dumb, goin’ on and on about last night? Why didn’t you stop me? Was it awful? Who was it?”

“Well, it wasn’t pretty. He was from Goodspeed Associates. Dr. Carlton Ash. Or at least, I thought he was from Goodspeed. He was doing some kind of secret study for Luwisher Brothers.”

“Secret study, eh? Come on now, Wetzon, nothin’ is truly secret either on the Street. That’s why they’ll never be able to really stop insider tradin’.”

“Well, I think this was so secret that someone killed him to keep him from telling me.”

Laura Lee clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Mmmm. I’ll see what I can dig up about this so-called secret, Wetzon. Now let’s hit these racks.”

It took them two hours to work over both the second and third floors. Wetzon bought two suits and some DKNY sportswear, and a black linen dress. “I’ll never wear it,” she moaned.

“Of course you will. Where will you ever again see a six-hundred- dollar Valentino dress reduced to two hundred dollars that fits you as if it were designed for you? Now, let’s see.” Laura Lee leaned against the counter and peered at the leather belts. “Two dresses, a Max Mara jacket, Calvin trousers and blazer, two Vittadini sweaters, and two Gloria Sachs suits.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Wetzon said. “I’m bleary-eyed. And we have to talk about the tea for Annie. Do you realize we have ten women coming to my apartment a week from tomorrow?”

“We’ll plan it all out this afternoon.” Laura Lee picked up her shopping bags. “I know exactly what we have to do. But first let’s see if the Ferragamos are on sale.”

Wetzon groaned. The Ferragamos were on sale, and it was after four when Wetzon and Laura Lee staggered out to Fifth Avenue.

“Let’s get a cab and go to my place,” Wetzon said. “That way we can decide what serving plates to put what on. “

“I just want to go across the street to Dunhill’s for one li’l ole minute.”

“What for?”

“I want to see if they have pajamas.”

“Is there a new man in your life, Laura Lee? One you haven’t told me about?”

“They’re for me.”

“Pajamas?”

“Wonderful, fine cotton. Feels like silk. What do you sleep in, smarty?”

“Oversized tee shirts. Fine cotton. Feels like cotton. Or just skin. I hate anything confining, like pajamas.”

“Why, Wetzon darlin’, you never cease to amaze me.”

Dunhill, thank God, was out of pajamas so they hailed a cab and loaded their packages on the front seat next to the driver, then collapsed into the backseat, exhausted.

“I’m starving,” Wetzon said. “Not to mention hot and sweaty.”

“So am I. Do you have somethin’ to munch at home?”

“Nada, nothing. Bagels, maybe.”

“No. I want a tequila sunrise and somethin’ really spicy to eat.”

“Why don’t we drop our stuff with my doorman and go over to Panarella’s? We can have a big salad and talk the party through there.”

Fifteen minutes later, that’s exactly what they were doing, sitting at a small table on the narrow upstairs balcony overlooking the bar. Wetzon had shocked Laura Lee one more time by surreptitiously rolling down her pantyhose, tucking the clammy nylon hose into her purse. She wriggled her toes. “Oh, my, that feels wonderful.” She had a cold Amstel in front of her, and they’d ordered Italian salads.

“Okay,” Laura Lee said. “What do you think? Scones, muffins, a couple of tea breads, and some open-faced sandwiches.”

“And a chocolate torte.”

“Of course.”

“Who makes what? I have a good scone recipe.”

“You do the scones, then, and I’ll do the muffins. We’ll each make a tea bread.” Laura Lee took a long sip of her tequila sunrise and sighed. “I can do the chocolate torte. We’ll need pain de mie for the sandwiches. We’ll have to order it from somewhere.”

“I’ll do it. We can make the sandwiches up in the morning and store them under a damp towel.”

“Good, now that that’s settled.” She reached for her drink and knocked her fork to the floor. Bending to pick it up, she exclaimed, “Oh, my, look who’s there.” Laura Lee, twisted like a pretzel, was looking down at the small bar below them.

Wetzon couldn’t see the bar from where she sat. “Who?”

“Chris Gorham. The one in the tennis whites and the thinning hair.” She laughed. “Boy, that must bother him a lot.”

“Chris?”

“Oh, I forgot. I heard he’s at Luwisher Brothers now. You must know him.” She came out of the pretzel.

“I do. I guess I shouldn’t ask how you know him.”

“Don’t.”

Wetzon frowned. Chris Gorham’s appearance had clearly thrown a damper on Laura Lee’s mood. “Are you sure it’s Chris?”

Laura Lee gave her a scornful look and became a pretzel again. “Oh, oh, he’s got company.”

“This I have to see.” Wetzon twisted herself around and squinted down over the railing. Below, a dark-haired man in gray pants and black tee shirt was shaking Chris Gorham’s hand. Chris seemed to be ordering drinks. The second man turned and leaned against the bar. “Jeeezus,” Wetzon said. She untwisted herself and sat back in her chair.

The delivery of their salads diverted them for a few minutes.

“What was that about, Wetzon?” Laura Lee asked when the waitress had left.

She didn’t answer Laura Lee. Her eyes were drawn below even though she knew she couldn’t see anything from this position. The man with Chris Gorham was David Kim.