He paced the length of his hotel room while Bert looked on in annoyance. “I’m meeting Tiffany this afternoon, hopefully.” “You want me to find out her life history before then?” Bert tapped his Mephisto dress shoes against the cheap hotel carpet. “You don’t ask for much.” “I don’t need answers right away. But I want to know who she is.” “You don’t believe her story?” “A rich kid from Toronto?” Noah shook his head. “Maybe. But there are holes in her supposed education. When we got drunk the other night — well, when she got drunk; I can handle more liquor than she can — she spoke more freely. Unless Canadian private schools are dramatically different from the one I went to in New York, I’m going to go out on a limb and say she never went to one.” “Are they supposed to have different accents?” Bert asked. “This isn’t England.”
