She came in from the backstage shower room - all six foot six of her. 'You're John Havoc,' she purred, toying with a scarlet towel in a most revealing manner. 'I'm Rosalind del Rio. I take a shower every night on stage,' she reminded me (unnecessarily). 'And I'm a friend of Lorenzo. Poor Lorenzo. He was no nice.' 'Lady,' I cracked, 'any dool named Rosalind del Rio is trictly phony. If you're trying to suck something out of me, just talk plain or beat it!' 'Okay, you wise little jerk,' she snarled,' we'll play it your way.' She dropped the towel and came at me.