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“Somebody asked for him at the bar, before you arrived,” Dino said.
“I think that must have been Tom Collins.”
“Who?”
“A somewhat out-of-date cocktail. Gin and grapefruit, I believe.”
“You’re right.”
“I usually am,” Stone replied.
“Not as often as you think.”
“More often thanyouthink.”
Viv had not spoken since they sat down. “Shut up, both of you,” she said.
They did.
“You’re worse than women.”
“Worse at what?” Stone asked.
“Everything.”
“I take exception.”
“Take all the exception you like. There’s plenty to go around.”
“Viv, help us out with this John Collins thing. What’s your opinion?”
“I think there’s a real good chance he’s dead,” Viv replied.
“My wife is choosing not to participate in this discussion,” Dino explained.
“I got that,” Stone said. “Let’s order.”
They ordered.
Viv looked around. “This is a guy joint,” she said.
Dino argued, “I’d bet you there are more women than men here, if I had enough fingers and toes.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t a guy joint,” Viv said. “A lot ofwomen prefer a guy joint: they think there’s a better chance of meeting guys at the bar.”
“Guys with joints,” Dino said.
“Stop it!” Viv nearly shouted. “Is that what passes for wit around here? No wonder I’m out of the country so much!”
“Well, Dino isn’t exactly Noël Coward with the quips, is he?” Stone said.
“You shut up, too!” she said.
“I’m just agreeing with you,” Stone said, wounded.
“Normally that’s an attractive quality in you, Stone, but not tonight.”
“Well, you won’t give us your theory on the late John Collins,” Stone said.
