“Hey, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at us. I had the exact same thought. In fact I even picked a place: the West Coast.”

“Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

“I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse,” Lou said. “It’s nice to have company, but it probably means we’re right.”

Jack leaned back so he could get a better look at Lou. He was impressed. The detective had shaved to remove his usual five o’clock shadow and had even pomaded his hair so that it still looked wet from the shower along the edges of his knife-sharp part. Gone was the rumpled sport jacket and baggy pants. In their place was a crisply pressed suit, a freshly laundered shirt, and a newly knotted tie. Most astounding of all, he’d polished his shoes.

“I’ve never seen you in a suit before,” Jack commented. “You look like you belong in a magazine, and I’m not talking about True Detective.”

“I usually only wear it to funerals,” Lou said.

“That’s a happy thought,” Jack responded.

“Excuse me,” the maître d’said at Jack’s elbow. “Your table is ready. Would you men like to sit down or do you want to stay here at the bar?”

“We’ll sit down,” Jack said without hesitation. He was eager to get away from the second-hand cigarette smoke.

The table was in the far back corner and to get there required some deft maneuvers, since as many tables as possible were crowded into the room. No sooner had Jack and Lou wedged themselves into their seats than a waiter appeared with an iced bottle of champagne plus two pricey bottles of Brunello. He immediately proceeded to open the champagne.

“Whoa!” Jack said to the man. “You got the wrong table. We haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Isn’t this the Montgomery party?” the waiter asked. He had a Spanish accent and an old-fashioned handlebar mustache. Even though Elio’s was an Italian restaurant, it had a decidedly cosmopolitan staff.

“Yeah, but...” Jack said.

“Then it’s been ordered,” the waiter said. He popped the cork and nestled the bottle back into its ice bucket. He then uncorked the two bottles of wine.

“This looks like a good wine,” Jack commented as he picked up one of the wine bottles and glanced at the label.

“Oh, very good!” the waiter agreed. “I’ll be back with the glasses.”

Jack looked over at Lou. “This isn’t the jug wine I usually drink.”

“I’m getting more nervous,” Lou said. “Laurie’s the thrifty sort.”

“You got a point,” Jack agreed. Whenever they went out, Laurie always insisted on paying her own way.