Leaning with her back against the bar, Yvonne takes a sip of her drink and studies the scratches on my head.

"My, you're a mess," she says.

"Some days more than others," I say, wondering if she heard any of my conversation with Rutherford. If she did, she's not giving it away. "How's your luck tonight?"

"Hmm?"

"The tables."

"Oh. It's been all right, but gambling bores me. Unless it's the horses."

"Come here often?"

"Are you trying to flirt ...