"Yes, sir," she said.

When he was gone, she sat upright at her desk, spine rigid, her back not touching her chair. She clasped her hands on the desktop. Knuckles whitened.

The black nylon wig didn't bother her. That was a detail that could be remedied. But how had they come up with the correct height?

She went over and over her actions during her two adventures. She could recall nothing that would give the police an accurate estimation of her height. She had a shivery feeling that there was an intelligence at work of which she knew nothing. Something or someone secret who knew.

She wondered if it might be a medium or someone versed in ESP, called in by the police to assist in their investigation. "I see a man or woman with-yes, it's black hair. No, not hair-it's a wig, a black nylon wig. And this person is of average height. Yes, I see that clearly. About five-five to five-seven. Around there."

That might have been how it was done. Zoe Kohler nodded, convinced; that was how.

On Thursday night, she went down to Wigarama on 34th Street. She tried on a nylon, strawberry blond wig, styled just like her black one. She looked in the mirror, pulling, tugging, poking it with her fingers.

"It'll make you a new woman, dearie," the salesclerk said.

"I'm sure it will," Zoe Kohler said, and bought it.

Madeline Kurnitz called and insisted they meet for lunch. Zoe was wary; a lunch with Maddie could last more than two hours.

"I really shouldn't," she said. "I'm a working woman, you know. I usually eat at my desk."

"Come on, kiddo," Maddie said impatiently. "You're not chained to the goddamned desk, are you? Live a little!"

"How about right here?" Zoe suggested. "In the hotel dining room?"

"How tacky can you get?" Maddie said disgustedly.

When she showed up, twenty minutes late, she was wearing her ranch mink, so black it was almost blue, over a tight sheath of brocaded satin. The dress had a stain in front; a side seam gapped. She couldn't have cared less.

She led the way grandly into the Hotel Granger dining room.

A wan maitre d' approached, gave them a sad smile.

"Two, ladies?" he said in sepulchral tones. "This way, please."

He escorted them to a tiny table neatly tucked behind an enormous plaster pillar.

Maddie Kurnitz opened her coat and put a soft hand on his arm.

"You sweet man," she said, "couldn't we have a table just a wee bit more comfortable?"

His eyes flicked to her unholstered breasts. He came alive.

"But of course!" he said.

He conducted them to a table for four in the center of the dining room.

"Marvelous," Maddie caroled. She gave the maitre d' a warm smile. "You're a perfect dear," she said.

"My pleasure!" he said, glowing. "Enjoy your luncheon, ladies."

He helped Maddie remove her mink coat, touching her tenderly. Then he moved away regretfully.

"I made his day," Maddie said.

"How do you do it?" Zoe said. She shook her head. "I'd never have the nerve."

"Balls, luv," Maddie advised. "All it takes is balls."

As usual, her hair seemed a snarl, her makeup a blotch of primary colors. Her feral teeth shone. Diamonds glittered. She dug into an enormous snakeskin shoulder bag and came out with a crumpled pack of brown cigarillos. She offered it to Zoe.

"No, thank you, Maddie. I'll have one of my own."

"Suit yourself."

Maddie twirled a cigarillo between her lips. Instantly, a handsome young waiter was hovering over her, snapping his lighter. She grasped his hand to steady the flame.

"Thank you, you beautiful man," she said, smiling up at him. "May we have a drink now?"

"But of course, madam. What is your pleasure?"

"I'd tell you," she said, "but it would make you blush. For a drink, I'll have a very dry Tanqueray martini, straight up, with two olives. Zoe?"

"A glass of white wine, please."

The waiter scurried off with their order. Maddie looked around the crowded room.

"Never in my life have I seen so many women with blue hair," she said. "What's the attraction here-free Geritol?"

"The food is very good," Zoe said defensively.

"Let me be the judge of that, kiddo." She regarded Zoe critically. "You don't look so bad. Not so good, but not so bad. Feeling okay?"

"Of course. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Have a good time at our bash the other night?"

"Oh yes. I meant to thank you before I left, but I couldn't find you. Or Harry."

"Never did meet David something, did you? The guy I told you about?"

"No," Zoe said, "I never met him."

"You're lucky," Maddie said, laughing. "He was picked up later that night with a stash of coke on him. The moron! But you didn't leave alone, did you?"

Zoe Kohler hung her head.

The waiter came bustling up with their drinks and left menus alongside their plates.

"Whenever you're ready, ladies," he said.

"I'm always ready," Maddie said, "but we'll order in a few minutes."

They waited until he moved away.

"How did you know?" Zoe asked.

"My spies are everywhere," Maddie said. "What's his name?"

"Ernest Mittle. He works for your husband."

Madeline Kurnitz spluttered into her martini.

"Mister Meek?" she said. "That nice little man?"

"He's not so little."

"I know, sweetie. He just looks little. Didn't try to get into your pants, did he?"

"Oh Maddie," she said, embarrassed. "Of course not. He's not like that at all."

"Didn't think so," Maddie said. "Poor little mouse."

"Could we order, Maddie? I really have to get back to work."

Zoe ordered a fresh fruit salad.

Maddie would have the fresh oysters. Bluepoints weren't her favorite, but they were the only kind available. On each oyster she wanted a spoonful of caviar topped with a sprinkling of freshly ground ginger.

Then she would have thin strips of veal sauteed in unsalted butter and Marsala wine, with a little lemon and garlic. Cauliflower with bacon bits would be nice with that, she decided. And a small salad of arrugola with sour cream and chives.

The ordering of her luncheon took fifteen minutes and required a conference of maitre d', headwaiter, and two waiters, with a busboy hovering in the background. All clustered about Maddie, peered down her neckline, and conversed volubly in rapid Italian. Other diners observed this drama with bemuse-ment. Zoe Kohler wished she were elsewhere.

Finally their meals were served. Maddie sampled one of her oysters. The waiters watched anxiously.

"Magnified" she cried, kissing the tips of her fingers.

They relaxed with grins, bowed, clapped each other on the shoulder.

"So-so," Maddie said to Zoe Kohler in a low voice. "The oysters are a bit mealy, but those dolts were so sweet, I didn't have the heart… Want to try one?"

"Oh no! Thank you."

"Still popping the pills, kiddo?"

"I take vitamins," Zoe said stiffly. "Food supplements."

Maddie finished the oysters, sat back beaming.

"Not bad," she admitted. "Not the greatest, but not bad. By the way," she added, "this is on me. I should have told you; maybe you'd have ordered a steak."

"We'll go Dutch," Zoe said.

"Screw that. I have a credit card from Harry's company. This is a business lunch in case anyone should ask." She laughed.

She had another martini while waiting for her veal. Zoe had another glass of white wine. Then their entrees were served.

"Beautiful," Maddie said, looking down at her plate. "You've got to order for color as well as taste. Isn't that a symphony?"

"It looks nice."

Maddie dug in, sampled a slice of veal. She closed her eyes.

"I'm coming," she said. "God, that's almost as good as a high colonic." She attacked her lunch with vigor. "Sweetie," she said, while masticating, "I never asked you about your divorce. Never. Did I?"