The lobby of the Hotel Figaro was sure fancy. Not as nice as the one at the Ritz in New York. But daddy was with her in New York. And daddy wasn't anywhere around the Figaro. At least he probaly wasn't.

Irene looked around trying to figure out what to do next. Finishing school only taught useless stuff like how to serve tea. Nobody ever told you how to barge into a crime scene and talk to FBI men. Or to a crooked cop. Chicago was full of crooked cops. Daddy said so.

Crooked judges too. When she was little, Daddy took her along to visit Judge Patterson. She wore her hair with pink ribbons and carried a stuffed lamb. Daddy always made what the judge called a "green argument." Irene sniffed. If it worked with judges, maybe it would work with other men.

Irene walked up to a bored looking bellboy. "Say, how'd you like to earn a dollar?"

He looked her up and down, noting her white gloves and the hat she wore with the pink rose on it.

"Gee, lady. A whole dollar? Can you spare it?"

Irene smiled a little bit. "Ok. A dollar for start." She handed over the bill. "And then maybe a fiver. If you get me into the room where the guy was killed."

"The alderman?" The kid snorted. "Yeah right. Like the cops'll let me in there."

"In where?" Irene held a five spot in front of the kid's face. "Get me to the floor and then I'm on my own. Okay?"

"Yeah" the kid said. "Gimme the money."

Irene smiled. "Get me to the floor."

The kid sighed and took her to the elevator.