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Petey had finished his drink, so I pushed mine over to him. “Where did you get this?” I asked him.
    “Trade secret.”
    What I had was an essay the Ice Lady had written. It was a statement of fact so direct, so concisely put together that I knew this was an exact timetable that Miss Amory was going to adhere to and fulfill. The young Candace was promising that she would be the district attorney of New York City, thence to the governorship of the state and from there to the presidency of the United States.
    If she hadn’t already made it into the DA’s office and already insinuated herself into a first-class, spectacular news story, I would have said it was just the drivel the young and inexperienced enjoy fantasizing about.
    But this was real.
    “Clue me, Petey. Things like this just don’t lay around. Where did you dig it up?”
    “Buy me another drink.”
    I bought him another drink.
    “You haven’t figured it out yet?”
    “No. I’m a dumb detective.”
    “Go to college, Mike?”
    “Sure I did, why?”
    “They make you do an essay on yourself as part of your admittance application?”
    “Damn,” I said. “That was pretty sharp, buddy. And they just handed this over to you?”
    Across his fresh drink he said, “No, I stole it. You see, those are things I know how to do. Help any?”
    “It gives me an edge,” I told him.
    “You’ll need more than that if you tangle assholes with that lady.”
    “Well, no guts, no glory,” I said. I reached in my pocket and dug out some change. “I suppose you know her phone number?”
    He said sure and gave it to me, reminding me that it was unlisted. So much for privacy. “What’re you calling her for?”
    “I’m going to ask her out to supper.”
    “Hell, man, it’s already suppertime. Women don’t buy that kind of action.”
    “This one might,” I said.
    I went out to a pay phone and called the Ice Lady. She said she had nothing better to do and would meet me at the Four Seasons. I told her she would meet me at the Pub on Fifty-seventh Street since I was buying. She knew better than to argue. I had a date.
    Petey said, “Well?”
    I glanced at my watch. “I’ll see her in half an hour.”
    His mouth dropped open. “How did you manage that?”
    “To paraphrase you, old buddy,” I told him, “that is one of the things I know how to do.”
    What I didn’t tell him was that I knew she’d been sitting there waiting for me to call ever since she put on that show with her titties.
    The Irishman who ran the Pub gave me a big hello, reserved a table for me in back and set up a Miller Lite on the bar while I waited. I was early because I knew she’d be early. Anyone who wanted the presidency had to be early.
    She smiled coming in the door and I said, “Good evening, Miss Amory.”
    “Hello, Mr. Hammer. Am I in time?”
    “Right on the button. Want a drink at the bar or shall we go back to the table?”
    “Oh, let’s go to the table. It’s been a long day. I’d rather sit down.”
    I waved toward the rear and let her follow the waiter. The Pub had good Irish class, great corned beef and typical New York customers. It wasn’t upper crust and the elite choose other places to see or be seen, and from her surreptitious motions I knew Candace Amory was putting it in a niche of its own, adding another check mark on my character sheet.
    When we sat down I said, “It’s a good address.”
    Puzzled, she looked at me, a cigarette halfway to her lips. “What?”
    “Nothing.” I pointed to the butt between her fingers. “Why do you smoke?”
    “Habit I suppose.” Again she seemed puzzled.
    “A mouth like yours doesn’t need a cigarette in it.”
    Her tongue flicked out and wet her lips. “Oh? What does it need, Mr. Hammer?”
    I gave her a little smile and her face got red. I got her off the hook nice and easy. “How about a hot corned beef sandwich?”
    For a minute there some of the frost had melted on the Ice Lady, but the confusion only