A Matter of Taste

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Angie Hoban found Valentine Kaiser waiting for her just where he had said he would be, occupying the end booth in a busy street-level coffee shop just off Michigan Avenue, a little south of the Water Tower. From outside she could see through the window that he was watching the entrance, and as soon as she came in through the revolving door he got to his feet, smiling. Tall, youthful, and actually one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. He was pulling a business card out of his vest pocket now, and as soon as she came within reach he handed it to her. A flashy printing job, she noticed, red on yellow. The message was simple enough:

Valentine Kaiser

Celebrity Publicist

At the bottom were two phone numbers with different area codes, both of them somewhere in California, if Angie could trust her memory on such matters; she'd visited the West Coast a couple of times. There wasn't any address on the card; the implication seemed to be that Valentine Kaiser moved fast, so did his business, and if you had to mail him a message or travel to his office, you weren't going to reach him in time anyway.

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