“Just as though the man had been a big dog chasing him,” Carlotta said.
“Now, let’s get this straight,” Sellers said. “You called out ‘Mother,’ and immediately Mrs. Cool dropped the screw-driver and the picture slid back into place. Is that right?”
“That’s right. And almost at once I heard a sound from the garage as though something had fallen. I didn’t pay any particular attention to that at the moment because I was so thoroughly terrified thinking that it was a revolver that was being poked through the garage at me. It was terrible of her to frighten me that way.”
“I see. And then after you had chased this man through the back door, you came and found that Mrs. Cool wasn’t dead, only unconscious, and then is when you telephoned for the police. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“And told them there was a prowler about the place?”
“Yes.”
“You should have reported it as an assault case and you’d have got quicker action,” Sellers rebuked mildly.
“I’m afraid we were terribly excited — and helpless. It’s an all-gone feeling when two women are alone in a house.”
“I know how you must have felt,” Sellers said.
Bertha, lying on the bed with her eyes closed, reflected that Carlotta had very carefully avoided making any reference whatever to her telephone conversation with Nunnely.
Mrs. Goldring said, “I suppose that detectives all work that way, going around boring holes through people’s walls so they can see what’s going on, but I think it’s—”
Sergeant Sellers interjected. “I’m not too certain she bored that hole.”
“She must have. It was just at the right height for her eyes. She could look right in and see what was happening.”
Sellers said, “It took time and tools to bore that hole. There’s an insulated fire wall between the garage and the house— Of course, the height of the hole might tell us something about the height of the person who bored it, but then the height of the hole may have been determined by the necessity of boring behind that picture. I think that’s the real explanation for the position of the hole.”
“How interesting! Well, anyway, that’s what happened. Now how about Mrs. Cool? Do you think we should undress her? Carlotta and I could get her clothes off. And how about a doctor?”
“I’m going to telephone for a doctor,” Sellers said, “but I want to make a superficial examination first. Can she stay here for a day or two if the doctor thinks she shouldn’t be moved?”
“Why certainly. Of course, it would be a little inconvenient now that we have no maid, but we’d be glad to have her. We like her, but we’re afraid she doesn’t like us. The last time we talked with her we wanted her to be a witness for us and she was rather crusty about it. She seemed to think we should pay her.”
“She would,” Sellers said. “All right, you folks go talk to the officer who’s in the garage and tell him to look for fingerprints on the back door, and don’t touch that back door-knob. Don’t go near the back door. In fact, don’t touch anything in that part of the house.”
Bertha, lying with her eyes closed, heard the rustle of motion, the gentle closing of a door. Sellers said, “How you feeling, Bertha, the head aching?”
Bertha, sensing the trap, kept her features motionless, lay perfectly still. Sellers sat down on the edge of the bed. “Come on, Bertha, snap out of it! You’ve got to face it sometime, you may as well do it now.”
Bertha made no motion.
“I’m not a damned fool,” Sergeant Sellers wept on, a trace of irritation in his voice. “I kept watching your face in the mirror. I saw when your eyelids fluttered and then snapped open, saw you take in the situation and promptly close your eyes again.”
Bertha said, “Damn it. Doesn’t a woman have any privacy?”
She opened her eyes, raised her hand to her head, felt something sticky on her hair. “Blood?” she asked.
Sellers grinned. “Oil and grease off the garage floor. You’re a mess.”
Bertha looked around. She was in the maid’s bedroom, stretched out on the top of the bed. She struggled to a sitting position. For a moment the room spun around in a complete circle, then straightened itself.
“How do you feel?” Sellers asked.
“Like hell. How do I look?”
Sellers pointed to a bureau mirror. By turning her head, Bertha was able to catch a glimpse of herself. Her hair, sticky with oil, was plastered down on her head. There was a smear of grease along her right cheek. Her eyes were dead and dopey. “My God!” Bertha said.
“Exactly.”
Bertha faced him. “All right, what’s the score?”
Sellers became grave. “I’m sorry, Bertha, this is the end of the road as far as you’re concerned.”
“How come?”
“I knew you were holding out on me,” Sellers said. “I didn’t know just what or just how much. I couldn’t crack Belder; that meant I had to turn my attention to you. I thought I might have some difficulty giving you a third degree so I rang up the officer I’d left in charge, told him to promote a drink or two from you, tell you he was a habitual drunkard, get properly stewed, and see what you did. I made arrangements to have you followed when you left the office.”
“Damn you,” Bertha said, “do you mean to say that I poured my good whisky down that cop’s throat and—” Bertha spluttered herself into indignant silence.
A smile twitched Sergeant Sellers’ mouth, “Exactly, Bertha.”
“Why, damn you. That was customers’ whisky. I keep it for my best clients.”
“That’s what Jack said. Said it was the first break I’d ever given him in ten years.”
Bertha sought for words. While she was groping for the proper epithets, Sellers went on. “I had a couple of men out in front of the place so they could follow you when you left.” His face darkened. “Damned if you didn’t lose them. Those are a couple of boys that are going back to pavement-pounding.”
Bertha said, “They were damned slick. I didn’t know they were on my tail. I just took precautions.”
“I’ll say you took precautions! They said you went around like a flea on a hot stove until you finally ditched them... All right, then you came here. What happened?”
Bertha said, “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
“I think I will,” Sellers said. “I don’t think you bored that hole. And what’s more, I think the hole was bored from the bedroom through to the garage. If you’d bored it, you’d have bored it from the garage through to the bedroom—”
Sergeant Sellers broke off as a door-bell sounded, listened to the faint sounds of excited feminine voices, then went on patiently, “Now, Bertha, you’ve got to give me the low-down about Mrs. Belder’s removable bridge — and how it came into your possession. That was one of the things we couldn’t understand. When we made a post-mortem on the body we found a removable bridge was missing. That wasn’t a particularly significant fact, it was simply a pertinent fact. But when we find that bridge in your office in Mrs. Belder’s spectacle case, that’s something else. Now we want to know where you got that bridge.”
“Suppose I don’t tell you?”
“That’s going to be tough on you, Bertha. You’re mixed up in a murder case. If you get some significant evidence and don’t tell us, you’re out of luck.”
“And suppose I do tell you?”
Sellers said, “That’s the tough part of it, you’re out of luck anyway, Bertha. You can’t go around holding out evidence on the police. You’ve been doing that too much lately. Donald Lam did it and managed to get away with it, but he was crowding his luck all the time. Eventually he’d have come a cropper. But when you tried to use his tactics you snubbed your toe and fell flat on your face. And that’s where you are right now.”