Sergeant Sellers raised a questioning eyebrow at Bertha, and at Bertha’s almost imperceptible nod the sergeant sized up the girl at the typewriter.
Imogene Dearborne seemed to be aware of his scrutiny. Her back stiffened, but she didn’t look up. She continued flinging her fingers at the keyboard of the typewriter, beating out a staccato tune of business efficiency.
The door from the private office opened. Everett Belder said, “I thought I heard you come in. Good morning. Good morning! Step right this way, please.”
They entered Belder’s private office.
Sergeant Sellers settled himself in a chair, pulled a cigar from his waistcoat pocket, bit off the end and groped for a match. Bertha Cool sat down with the grim formality of an executioner calling on the condemned man. Everett Belder adjusted himself nervously in the big chair behind the desk.
Sellers got his cigar going, shook out the match, tossed it into a small fireplace where some papers were burning, looked at Belder and said, “Well?”
Belder said, “I presume Mrs. Cool has told you everything.”
Sellers grinned at Belder through blue cigar smoke. “I don’t think she’s told me everything, but she told me more than you intended her to tell.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Belder said, trying to be dignified.
“How about that second letter?” Sellers asked.
Belder said nervously, “I intended to tell you about that a little later, Sergeant. I just wanted a little while to think it over.”
“You’ve thought it over now,” Sellers said.
Belder nodded.
“And what was there you wanted to think over?”
“Nothing. That is, in the sense that you mean.”
“Shouldn’t have taken you long to think it over, then.”
Belder cleared his throat, “A young woman whom I used to know, named Dolly Cornish, called on me. She was glad to see me. I was glad to see her. I hadn’t seen her for a long time. She looked me up when she came to town, got my address out of the telephone book. She had no means of knowing I was still married.”
“What do you mean, ‘still’?”
“Well, I went with her for a while, and then — well, then I got married.”
“She didn’t like that?”
“Oh, she got married herself within a week or two.”
“But she didn’t like it when you got married?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her.”
Sellers took the cigar from his mouth. His eyes bored into Belder’s. “Answer questions and quit beating around the bush.”
Belder said, “No. She didn’t like it.”
“Had you seen her since then?”
“Not until she came here.”
“Why did she come?”
“She’d left her husband. She — well, she wanted to see me.”
“Okay, you made a play for her?”
“I–I was glad to see her.”
“Kiss her?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“I — well, perhaps. But that was all of it, just a kiss and — well, hang it, I was glad to see her. Just like you’d be glad to run across any old friend whom you hadn’t seen for a long time.”
“Date her up?”
“No.”
“Tell her you were still married?”
“Yes.”
“She leave you her address?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Locklear Apartments.”
“You been there?”
“No.”
“Called her?”
“No.”
“She ask you to?”
“Well, not exactly. She told me where she was staying.”
“Where did she sit?” Sergeant Sellers asked.
Surprise was on Belder’s face. “I don’t get you.”
“When she was here.”
“Oh, over in that chair, the one Mrs. Cool’s sitting in.”
“That’s pretty well over at the far end of the office,” Sellers said. “Take a look out, Bertha, and tell me what windows you can see across the street.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Belder said. “What bearing does that have on the case?”
Sergeant Sellers explained patiently. “The person who wrote that second letter must have been able to see what was going on here in the office when Dolly Cornish called. I notice there’s an office building across the street. It’s not a wide street. Along in the afternoon, the light would be just right so a person standing in an office across the street could see in here.”
Belder frowned for a moment, then his face cleared. “By George, that’s an idea! You think this person was spying on me from an office in the building across the street?”
Bertha Cool said, “Why monkey with that stuff? You have the answer right here in your office.”
Sellers frowned for her to keep quiet, suddenly switched his point of attack.
“How about the information in this letter. Who do you know who could have known about Dolly being in here on Monday?”
“No one.”
“Your secretary?”
“She doesn’t know anything at all about Dolly Cornish; thinks she’s a business acquaintance.”
“What time was this Dolly person in here Monday?”
“I don’t know, around — oh, I’d say around the middle of the afternoon.” Sergeant Sellers jerked his fingers toward the telephone. “Get her in here.”
“Who?”
“Your secretary.”
Belder raised the receiver on the telephone, said, “Can you come in here a moment, please?”
A second later, when Imogene Dearborne opened the door, Sellers said, “Last Monday — a party by the name of Dolly Cornish. What time was she in?”
“Just a moment, I’ll consult my day-book.”
“She have an appointment?”
“No.”
“All right, take a look at your book.”
Imogene returned to her desk, secured her day-book, opened it, slid her finger down the page. “Mrs. Cornish came in at two-twenty Monday afternoon. She stayed until three-fifteen.”
“She didn’t have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Stranger to you?”
“Yes.”
“Know anything about her business?”
“No. Mr. Belder said not to make any charge.”
Sellers tilted back his head, closed his eyes. “What does she look like?”
“A blonde, good figure, fine clothes, attractive, still young, but sort of — well, sort of scheming and definitely selfish. If she wants something, she gets it.”
Belder said, “I hardly think that’s fair, Miss Dearborne, you—”
“I’m running this,” Sellers interrupted, his head still tilted back, eyes still closed. “She told you she wanted to see Mr. Belder, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And you asked her if she had an appointment?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She said Mr. Belder would see her if I’d tell him she was here.”
“Belder isn’t very busy,” Sellers said. “That appointment business is just a stall, isn’t it — kind of racket to impress callers?”
“Yes.”
“So you went on in to him and told him a Mrs. Cornish was here?”
“She asked me to announce her as Dolly Cornish; said just to say Dolly Cornish.”
“What did Belder do?”
“Why, he said to send her in, said she was a friend of his.”
“Any emotion?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“What happened when they met each other?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“Didn’t Belder come to the door?”
“He was part way around the desk as I held the door open for her. I heard him say her name as though he — well, as though he liked the sound of it.”
“And then?”
“I closed the door.”
“See him kiss her?”