These last six words were as clear as cuneiform to me, but I figured someone at the hotel would be able to direct me to this destination—that is, if I decided to meet her at the heathen hour of nine-thirty, a jazzman’s equivalent of the crack of dawn.

“I’m performing in the Tower of the Sun at ten,” her letter continued, still bewilderingly, so if you can’t make it, it will not be a hardship for me. However, time is of the essence and it is important we meet as soon as possible. I am hoping my proposal will interest you, and if not, please know that three different underclassmen in the last month have told me that I am the cat’s meow, pajamas, and whiskers, in alphabetical order. I am sure they are just being polite, but perhaps you might want to form your own opinion. Be advised that if I don’t see you tomorrow at the Café (where I will know you by your photograph in Metronome magazine) I intend to track you down at the Claremont and lure you to your doom.

The letter was signed Gail Prentice. Beneath her signature was a phone number with a Berkeley exchange.

“You saw the girl who left this?” I asked the desk clerk.

“I did, sir, yes,” he said.

I advanced him a dollar bill. “Tell me, if this girl had asked you to have breakfast with her, would you have said yes?” I smiled as if we were both men of the world.

“No, sir, I should say not,” he answered, covering the bill with his right sleeve and sliding it off the marble counter into his waiting left hand. “I’ve been engaged for the last two years to a manicurist from Walnut Creek who works here at the Claremont. I’m sure she wouldn’t like me keeping company with an Attractive Young Woman.” He stressed the last three words and winked.

“How young?” I asked.

“Her twenties.”

“How far into them?”

He shrugged. “She might be a little young for you.”

I leaned forward. “How old do you think I am?”

He looked me over. I was disheveled from the long bus ride and could have used a shave. “Thirty-four?”

“Thirty-eight,” I enlightened him gratefully as I slipped him another bill.

I hadn’t had the pleasure of breakfasting with a woman in almost a year, and lately I’d been waking way too early (the dreams had come back). Keeping an intriguing appointment with an Attractive Young Woman sounded like a much better way of enduring tomorrow morning than sitting in my room playing cribbage for one. Gail (we were on a first-name basis now) had said she’d be honored to meet with me. How unchivalrous it would be if I were to ignore such a simple and charming request. I tucked the letter into my breast pocket, picked up my suitcase, and headed toward the stairs.