But not as raspingly as the names he was calling himself. The bright guy. The kid with the medals. The prize package of the cloak-and-dagger boys. So he stood there and handed the package over to the old man’s granddaughter. Whoever didn’t want that package delivered didn’t need to strongarm Jose Aragon. No, sir! All he had to do was ask for it. The girl wasn’t even a babe. He went into the Paris to waste time. Their perfumes were Parisienne, he smelled a case full of amber bottles and they all smelled luxurious. For Miss Haughty Paris’s trouble, he bought the Chanel she recommended. If Lou was overstocked, she could give it as a door prize at her party. This bottle was lost in his pockets; his ideas and that of the lady tourists on the bargain price of perfume didn’t jibe. He’d have had to sell an acre of the ranch to buy Chanel of the size of Praxiteles’ bottle. It could be the lost bottle was important just in itself. It might be better to give up right now, to find the blonde and confess all.
