“I see,” Sellers observed. “Going to have a pot of tea, I suppose?”
“Yes.” Elsie Brand’s acquiescence was just a bit too quick and enthusiastic. “That’s right. We were just going to have tea. Quite frequently we have tea. I—”
“That’s swell,” Sellers observed. “Count me in. Put an extra cup in the pot, Bertha. Go ahead and close the office, Elsie.”
Sellers entered the room and Elsie Brand, glancing helplessly at Mrs. Cool, pushed the door shut.
Bertha said, “My God, you cops are all alike. The smell of food brings you around like flies. It doesn’t make any difference what time of day it is — morning, noon, afternoon or night—”
“That’s right,” Sellers interpolated. “Only I didn’t know there was going to be food. I thought it was just tea. Food makes it that much better. Got some nice assorted cookies, Bertha? The kind with sweet fillings in the centre? I love those.”
Bertha glared at him.
“Don’t let your water boil away,” Sellers said. “Go ahead and get your tea, Bertha.”
Bertha glanced at Elsie. “Where is the tea, Elsie?”
“Why, I–I— gosh, Mrs. Cool, come to think of it, I think we used up the last yesterday. I remember now, you told me to get some more, and I forgot it.”
“Damn it,” Bertha blazed. “Can’t you ever remember anything? That’s twice you’ve forgotten things. I told you positively to get some more tea yesterday afternoon. I remember using up the last and throwing the carton away.”
“I remember it now,” Elsie admitted shamefacedly. “I forgot it this morning.”
Grinning Sellers sat down. “Oh, well,” he said, “get out the cups and saucers and I’ll see if I can promote some tea.”
“I suppose you carry a package of it around in your pocket.”
“I’ll get some,” Sellers promised, adjusting himself to a comfortable position in one of the office chairs, and pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Go right ahead, Bertha. Bring out the cups and saucers, Elsie.”
Elsie glanced at Bertha.
Bertha said, “On second thought I’ve changed my mind. If we haven’t any tea, I’m not going to wait for you to promote some. I’m sick and tired to death of—”
“Okay, okay,” Sellers interrupted. “Let’s see the cups and saucers, Bertha. Where do you keep them?”
“I told you I’m not going to use them.”
“I know, but I’m interested in them.”
“Well, stay interested then. I have other things to do. Come on, Mr. Belder. We’ll finish that matter we were going to discuss when we were interrupted.”
“Might as well finish it right now,” Sellers said.
“Thank you. My clients prefer privacy. Strange of them, I’m certain, but somehow they do. A sort of subconscious clinging to the obsolete rights of an American citizen.”
Sellers kept grinning good-naturedly. “No cups and saucers, er, Bertha?... Mrs. Goldring told me there’d been another letter come for Mrs. Belder. Thought I might find you here, Belder. Of course, if you have that letter in your pocket, I’ll just take it along. It may be valuable as evidence.”
“You and who else?” Bertha blazed. “After all, there are certain Federal regulations that rate just a little higher than you smart-Aleck cops. If a letter’s addressed to Mrs. Belder, you can’t—”
“Come, come, Bertha. Don’t run up a blood-pressure over it. If you’re so touchy about the Federal regulations, what were you about to do?”
“I was about to cook a pot of tea,” Bertha all but shouted, “and I guess as yet there’s no law says you can’t cook a pot of tea in your own office.”
“You’d be surprised about that,” Sellers told her. “City ordinances concerning cooking — zoning ordinances concerning places where meals or refreshments are habitually furnished, given away, or—”
“I guess I could cook a client a cup of tea without having to take out a restaurant license.”
“That ‘habitually furnished’ covers a lot of ground,” Sellers said, still keeping his affable smile. “Elsie works here. Evidently you serve tea at this time every day.”
Bertha’s angry glare didn’t disturb the Sergeant’s serene complacency.
“Now then,” he went on, turning to Belder, “if you’ve received another poison-pen letter and were getting ready to steam it open, just cut me in on the party.”
“How the hell do you get that way?” Bertha said. “Bursting into my office and—”
“Take it easy, Bertha. Don’t scream. Your office is open to the public. I dropped in. I’d been out at Belder’s house just checking up on a few details. I talked with Mrs. Goldring, who’s naturally much concerned over the whole affair, and is trying to convince me there’s some reason for her daughter’s absence. A reason that isn’t connected with the death of Sally Brentner. Trying to think back over recent events in order to see if there wasn’t some clue to her daughter’s disappearance, Mrs. Goldring remembered that there had been two letters in the mail marked Personal and confidential. She suggested that we might go through the mail, find them, and see if they offered a clue. We did it. We found only one of the envelopes.”
“I didn’t feel like taking the liberty of opening Mrs. Belder’s mail, but I saw no reason why we couldn’t hold the envelope up to a strong light and see what was inside. I arranged a cardboard funnel, put it over a hundred-and-fifty-watt light, held the envelope over the funnel and saw that the envelope contained only the advertisement of a furrier. A little closer inspection convinced me that the envelope had been opened. I remembered there had been two poison-pen letters; that you tried to hold one out on me; that you didn’t have the envelope it came in. Mrs. Goldring was much put out because she couldn’t find the letter that had come this afternoon marked Personal and confidential. Putting two and two together, I thought I might make a guess as to where the envelope might be, and where Everett Belder might be. I come up here and find you grouped around a teakettle, brewing tea with no tea-cups, no teapot, and no tea leaves.”
“Now, Bertha, as one detective to another, what would you think if you were in my position?”
“Oh, hell,” Bertha said wearily to Belder. “Let him in on it.”
“That’s better,” Sellers grinned. “After all, Belder, I’m protecting you as far as your mother-in-law is concerned. I haven’t told her anything about that second letter. Incidentally, you’ll probably be interested to know that your mother-in-law thinks you’d been having an affair with Sally, either got tired of her, or Sally was standing in your way, keeping you from taking on another mistress. She thinks you got rid of her and she’s beginning to have a horrible suspicion that you may have made away with your wife.”
“Made away with my wife!” Belder shouted. “Made away with Mabel! Good God! I’d give my right hand if I could locate her right now. Bertha can tell you that I’m putting across a deal that—”
“Shut up,” Bertha interrupted. “He’s just trying to get your goat to make you start talking. That’s an old police trick, playing you against your mother-in-law, and your mother-in-law against you.”
“Why stop him from talking, Bertha? Is he concealing something?”
“A fat chance anybody stands of concealing things with you opening purses, breaking into offices, and egging his mother-in-law into hysterics. Hell, no! All I’m trying to do is to keep his mouth shut so you can’t run back to the mother-in-law and tell her what Belder said about her.”
Sellers said affably, “Well, you’ve got to admit it was a swell try, Bertha. I shouldn’t have tried it when you were here. I think I’d have got somewhere with it if you hadn’t butted in.”