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She went back to the dining room where she had spotted two oil men having lunch. They were friendly rivals who Duffy knew loved to get the edge on each other. One was J.Karl Gittens, tall and introverted, blond, tassel-like hair resting on his gold-rimmed glasses: the other, Hugh Penza, huge and jolly, balding, always smiling, always scheming.
Karl wore a navy blazer with an irrelevant crest on the left breast, gray slacks and a solid gray tie. Hugh Penza wore a western jacket, string tie with a silver clasp on the black strings and a rumpled white shirt straining at the buttons.
"Hello, gentlemen," Duffy said.
"The Queen of the Tribune," Hugh Penza said. "Sit down, dear. Have a drink with us." J. Karl fidgeted. He didn't really want the company.
"Well if I'm not intruding on anything." She sat with a smile of contentment before there was any time to withdraw the invitation.
J. Karl had that devastated "she's-going-to-put-the-touch-on-us" look on his face, but Penza was ever-jovial and made believe nothing could be further from his mind.
"What'll you have?" Hugh asked her.
"Oh, nothing, thank you," she said. "I just finished a big meal with the Markses."
"Yes, we saw," Hugh said. "Get anything?"
"We'll see," she said, usually noncommittal unless she had something substantial. "I'm in a real bind, boys," she said, "and I wonder if you could help me?"
"How much is it, Duffy?" Hugh asked.
"I'm three hundred thousand short of my initial promise to the board of supervisors. They simply can't wait any longer. I've got to get it by tomorrow. You have any idea where I could get my hands on that kind of money today?"
J. Karl spoke up, "You tried the Sutlers? They're the richest people in town."
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