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short chemise-type nightgowns that came down—well, just far enough, and billowy transparent full-length things. Sexual weaponry, Nikos called them. I wore them all one night for him while he sat propped up in bed. And finally he turned thumbs down on them. ‘Makes the woman’s intention too obvious,’ he said. ‘Attack too frontal.’ He turned down the complete line.”
    â€œBut he liked to look at you,” I said.
    â€œWhy not?” she said. “I have a good body.” And before I could agree, warmly, she went on. “There are others who had my job before me—and got a little too old, finally. There’s a girl in the next room who had it for years, and when she didn’t send Nikos any more, he set her up in business for herself. She’s one of the top stylists in the fashion world today—Monica Strong. I’m sure he had plans for me when I got too old.”
    I didn’t tell her about Tim Gallivan’s remark that she was now a rich and desirable heiress.
    â€œWe’re drifting away from the people who had a chance to get at that pill bottle,” I said.
    â€œHis bedroom was like a twenty-hour-a-day night club,” she said. “Close people and people he hardly knew milled in and out.”
    â€œLet’s start with the close ones.”
    â€œMonica’s still close to him,” she said. “She’s dark and—”
    â€œI met her when I came in,” I said.
    â€œThen you know,” Jan said. “She’s got style, and she’s made it a profession with Nikos’s help. He trusted her judgment about clothes. Taste, if you see what I mean. Fashion today like walks a tightrope between good taste and bad taste. A see-through can be beautiful or just plain sexy and cheap.” She was checking people off on her silver-tipped fingers. “There’s Tim, of course—Tim Gallivan, Nikos’s lawyer and financial expert. Tim is a very smart cookie about money, but you put on the Iron Maiden when he’s around if you want to stay alive.”
    â€œIron Maiden?”
    She grinned at me. “Your chastity belt—your fighting spurs, if you see what I mean. The world is Sexville to Timmy.”
    â€œHe bothered you?”
    Her face clouded. “Not up to now. Nikos wouldn’t have stood for it. But now, well, it looks like I’d have to dust off my track shoes.”
    â€œWho else?”
    â€œRight now there are the Faradays—Mike and Dodo. She was Dorothy Dobson before she married Mike. Mike’s got money in the Lazar thing—but very hush-hush. He made his money in asbestos—or something. Dodo’s important to the Lazar thing. You need the best models, like Suzie Sands and others, to show the collection. But you have to have real people, too. Dodo is no Jackie Onassis or Babe Paley, but she goes to the right places, and she does the right things, and she owns the right possessions. When Dodo wears a Lazar to the opera or to some brawl given by one of the In-people like a Truman Capote, then Maxie will start to get mentioned in the same breath with Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Norell, and Galanos. Dodo can help make Maxie run—if you see what I mean.”
    â€œAnd Dodo was in and out of Nikos’s bedroom?”
    â€œEverybody was. You asked me who was close to Nikos right now. The Faradays are In. Zach Chambers is In—the model agent. Zaccheus Chambers.”
    â€œIs he the old camp in the beads?” I asked. “With the jokes?”
    â€œYou’re behind the times, Mark,” Jan said. “Everybody wears beads. Zach could make Nikos laugh until he had to be sent away so Nikos wouldn’t have an attack. Then there’s Suzie and her lawyer. In or out of clothes, Suzie is the most beautiful girl in the world, I guess. She fascinated Nikos because she’s so completely stupid about everything except making money. Then there’s Morrie