The Betsy (1971)
“Lady or no, she ate like a stevedore. I watched her demolish her breakfast: juice, dollar-size pancakes with eggs and sausages, toast, marmalade and tea. And all the time I kept pouring coffee into myself to bring myself up to the day.“You Americans eat such enormous breakfasts,” she said between mouthfuls. “Lovely.”I nodded. We certainly did, I thought as I poured myself a fourth cup of coffee. The phone rang and I picked it up.“Mr. Carroll at the front desk,” the voice identified itself. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Perino.”“Quite all right, Mr. Carroll.”His voice lowered. “I have a long-distance call for Lady Ayres. It’s from Detroit and I thought perhaps it might be wise if I got your permission before we put it through.”I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “Who in Detroit knows you’re staying here?”“The only one I told was Loren,” she answered.Since her name hadn’t appeared on the hotel register, it meant that security was on the ball. I spoke into the phone.
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