Gail piped, “Oh, sorry, Tobe, turns out I won’t be needing the lift after all.” She nodded in my direction. “The mountain came to the corner of Mohammed and Vine. But thanks so much, really.” She gave him a little salute that was her invitation for him to leave, which Ackland reluctantly accepted. He gave me a departing glance that was the retinal equivalent of manslaughter.

“Your boyfriend?” I asked, trying to camouflage any show of concern.

She laughed and said, “Toby is a very sweet guy,” uttering the words that no man wants to hear spoken about himself. Good. “The front desk gave me the message you left, by the way. And I got another from the program coordinator at Treasure Island, wanting to know why there was no three o’clock carillon concert today.”

I had wondered why Gail had scheduled herself to perform on both sides of the bay at the same hour, and said as much to her.

An annoyed look came over Gail’s face as she said that it definitely had not been her turn to perform on Treasure Island that afternoon. “I alternate with another girl, her name is Adeline Head, she lives in San Francisco. She played the evening concert last night, I would have played this morning if that woman hadn’t fallen from the tower, and it was Adeline’s turn again this afternoon.” Gail scowled. “This is the third time Ada has done this. I have to call her and find out why.”

“There’s probably a telephone booth in the Rexall,” I said lightly, indicating the drugstore.

She shook her head. “It’s been out of order for a couple of weeks now. There’s a soda fountain called the Campus over in Berkeley Square that has a coin telephone. We can go there.”

I could now discount any notion that Gail really did have a twin sister. Obviously, she was afraid that if we went into the Rexall, the pharmacist might comment on her speedy return. But it was easy to overlook her little fib on a sunny afternoon as we strolled to an ice-cream parlor together.

“So, Ray,” she said, and God help me, she took my arm, slipping her right hand around my left arm and oh, we were snug now as she walked me away from the drugstore, her head against my left shoulder, “we have the obvious problem that you’re working evenings at the Claremont. So what do we do about getting together?”

“I’d rather not start before eleven, to be honest,” I answered. “Sounds lazy but I’m used to musician’s hours, jazz musician’s. I finish work after midnight, so I often don’t turn in until at least three or four in the morning.”

Gail nodded. “Me too. And I’m not even a jazz musician.”

“Well, are the afternoons out?” I asked.