“Sordid details always interest me,” Bertha said.
“Very well. Her insurance was twenty thousand dollars. In place of investing that wisely, Mrs. Goldring decided she would spend four thousand dollars a year for five years, thinking that would be plenty; that sometime during the five years she would land a desirable husband. Having once reached that decision, it was difficult for her to remain within the price limits she set for herself. And I will say one thing, she was generous to Carlotta. Partially for Carlotta’s sake, and partially, perhaps, because she had to provide generously for Carlotta in order to keep up her own background.”
“She made a mental limit of four thousand dollars a year. She spent over seven thousand dollars the first year. For the most part she travelled extensively, hoping to meet the type of person she wanted in the intimacy of a long voyage. She might have made a go of it if she hadn’t made the mistake so many women make.”
“What?”
“She fell in love with a man who had no intention of marrying her. He wasted a year of her time and finally got the bulk of her money.
“When Mrs. Goldring awakened to the truth, she redoubled her efforts to capture her lost youth. Ever play golf, Mrs. Cool?”
“Some.”
“You’ll realize what I mean, then, by trying too hard. When you click out your easy shots down the centre of the fairway, you’re simply swinging in a perfect rhythm of coordination. When you get too eager, get in too much of a hurry, get too anxious to get distance with your drives, you foozle your shots. Well, Mrs. Goldring got too eager. She foozled her matrimonial shots.”
“She is within thirty days of the end of her rope. In fact, she’d gone through everything she had more than a month ago. She’s been getting by ever since on desperate expedients, and on the strength of the fact that her credit has always been good. She came to Los Angeles in order to persuade her daughter, Mabel, to throw Everett Belder over, get a divorce, and live with Mrs. Goldring and Carlotta — furnishing the entire finances, of course.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I’ve made it my business to know everything that concerns Carlotta’s welfare.”
“All right, where do I come in? Exactly what do you want me to do?”
Her visitor smiled. “It seems such a simple thing,” she said, “simple — and yet so terribly, so vitally important.”
“Well, come on. What is it?”
“I want some information.”
Bertha said with a touch of sarcasm, “You’d be surprised how many of my clients do.”
The woman smiled, opened her purse, took out a flat wallet. She flipped this open and took out a fifty-dollar bill. She tossed it casually on Bertha’s desk. “I’m paying you in advance, you see.”
Bertha’s eyes caressed the money, then shifted to her visitor. “What’s it for?”
“Information.”
“What’s the information?”
“You’ll be surprised when—”
Bertha interrupted impatiently. “Listen, I’ve got work to do. If I’m to get the information you want, I’ll have more to do. Now, let’s get it over with. What do you want?”
“I want the name of Everett Belder’s barber.”
Despite herself, expression showed on Bertha Cool’s face. “His barber!”
“That’s right.”
“Good heavens, why?”
The woman extended a long, pointed, coral-tipped finger toward the fifty dollars on the desk. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
Bertha’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not certain that I’m free to get that information for you. I’m doing some work for Mr. Belder. Let me go out and look at the carbon copy of the receipt I gave Belder, and see just what it covers. I—”
The woman laughed. “Come, come, Mrs. Cool. I thought you were smarter than that. You want to arrange for someone to shadow me when I leave the office. I think we understand each other perfectly. There’s the money, and I want the name of Everett Belder’s barber.”
“But why on earth do you want that?”
“Because I’d like to have him cut my hair. And of course, Mrs. Cool, you will treat this visit as absolutely confidential. The minute you touch that fifty dollars I become your client so far as this matter is concerned. You will not say anything to Mr. Belder or anyone else about my visit. You will get only that one bit of information for me, and if you betray my confidence you will be guilty of unprofessional conduct. Do I make myself clear?”
“How will I get in touch with you to let you know?”
“Call me at this number. I’ll be there to take the call. Good afternoon.”
The telephone rang as the woman got to her feet.
Bertha picked up the receiver, but didn’t touch the fifty-dollar bill which lay on the desk.
Elsie Brand’s voice said cautiously, “Everett Belder’s out here.”
Bertha cupped her hand over the mouthpiece, said, “Everett Belder’s out there.”
The frown of annoyance which flickered across the woman’s face was visible even under the black veil. “Mrs. Cool, you really should have an office that has a private exit.”
Bertha said angrily, “Well, if you feel that way about it, just rent me the office — even find it for me, and I’ll move in. If you don’t want him to see you, I can tell the girl to tell him I can’t see him for ten minutes, and ask him to come back—”
The woman marched across to the door. “On second thought, Mrs. Cool, I think I prefer it this way. Do you take the money, or do I?”
Bertha hesitated for an instant, then reached across the desk and picked up the fifty-dollar bill.
“Thank you,” the woman said, and opened the door.
Bertha Cool managed to get around the desk in time to watch Everett Belder’s reactions as the woman walked past him.
He gave her a briefly casual glance, then scrambled hastily to his feet, started at once toward Bertha’s private office.
14
No Tea for the Sergeant
Belder, visibly excited, seated himself across from Bertha. “We’ve got it,” he said.
“Got what?”
“You remember my telling you about a young woman I’d helped to land a job in San Francisco?”
Bertha gave the question frowning consideration. “Another woman?”
“Not another one. The one we were talking about. The one whose letter you saw.”
“Oh. The one who called you Sindbad?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about her?”
“She’s going to help out.”
“In what?”
“In giving me enough money to clean up this judgment. She’s been making a good salary, putting it away, and making an investment here and there. She’s got twenty-three hundred dollars in the savings bank. I can raise the other two hundred dollars. Go ahead and close the deal with Nunnely.”
“How did you get in touch with this woman,” Bertha asked. “By telephone?”
“No. She was down here on a trip in connection with her job. She telephoned me and I ran over to her hotel. I’ve been trying to get you. The money’s in San Francisco, and she’s arranging to have it sent down here by wire. We’ll be able to close the deal by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Bertha said, “You certainly have plenty of women in your life!”
“What do you mean by that, Mrs. Cool?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Cool, but this young woman is really not ‘in’ my life.”