Bertha said grimly, “All right, if I’m going to lose my license whether I keep my mouth shut or whether I talk, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“The point I didn’t explain,” Sellers went on dryly, “is that if you tell us, you’ll lose your license, but if the explanation is okay, you’ll keep your freedom. If you don’t tell us you’ll go to jail as an accomplice.”
Bertha said, “I think I may have something on that bridge, and I want to play it my way.”
Sellers said, “I think you have something, Bertha, I want to play it my way.”
Abruptly the door to the bedroom opened. Mrs. Goldring, on the threshold, said to Sergeant Sellers, “I hope we’re not interrupting, and I hope the patient is all right but we’re so happy Carlotta has found her real mother. I want to present her. Mrs. Croftus, this is Sergeant Sellers — and,” she added hastily, “Mrs. Cool.”
“How do you do, Sergeant Sellers. And Mrs. Cool, I think I’ve met before. I’m sorry to learn that you’re indisposed, Mrs. Cool.”
Mrs. Croftus seemed very poised, very certain of herself. Bertha, sitting on the edge of the bed, her oily hair plastered to one side of her face, blinked at Mrs. Croftus. “Do I understand you located her?” she asked Carlotta.
“No,” Mrs. Goldring said, “Mrs. Croftus has been trying to find her daughter for some time. She had released her for adoption years ago, then when this case came up, she read about it in the newspaper and certain things that the newspaper said convinced her that Carlotta was her daughter. She came to the door and rang the bell. I recognized her instantly. You see, I had met her years ago. Well, after all, there’s no reason why Carlotta shouldn’t have two mothers—” And Mrs. Goldring beamed at Bertha Cool and Sergeant Sellers inclusively.
Bertha suddenly whirled to Carlotta. “Why didn’t you tell Sergeant Sellers about your telephone conversation to Mr. Nunnely?” she demanded.
“Because it has nothing to do with the case,” Carlotta said with dignity. “I merely wanted to get in touch with Mr. Nunnely and see if his judgment against Everett Belder couldn’t be settled on a reasonable basis. I don’t know what that has to do with what happened in the garage, Mrs. Cool.”
Mrs. Croftus said, “Dear me! I seem to have picked a most inopportune time for my visit! I’m sorry to intrude, but—”
“I thought Sergeant Sellers would like to be advised of the latest development,” Mrs. Goldring said, and simpered at the Sergeant.
Sellers nodded. “Not that I see that it makes much difference, but—”
“Fry me for an oyster!” Bertha ejaculated suddenly, heaving herself up off the bed and getting to her feet.
“What is it?” Mrs. Goldring asked solicitously.
“What is it!” Bertha said. “I’ll show you what it is.”
She walked over to the door, slammed it shut, turned the key in the lock.
“May I ask the meaning of this?” Mrs. Croftus demanded.
“You’re damned right you can ask the meaning of this,” Bertha said, “and I hope you do something about it, dearie. You can sneak up behind me and bang me on the head with a club and get away with it, but you make a move now, and I’ll show you what being tough really is. I’ll take you apart and see what makes you tick, darling.”
Mrs. Goldring said indignantly to Sergeant Sellers, “You represent the law. Are you going to stand by and permit anything like that?”
Sergeant Sellers grinned. “I’m certainly not going to do anything to stop it,” he announced gleefully.
Carlotta said meaningly, “That blow on her head must have affected her reasoning. You’d think she’d be in enough trouble because of careless statements she’s made about people without inviting more trouble for herself.”
Bertha Cool glared at Carlotta. “Shut up! You saw that picture moving on the wall a long time before you claimed you did. I heard you having a whispered conversation before I could see into the room. That was when you told your mother to go out and crack my head open; then you were going to concoct this story about the mysterious assailant. And that telephone conversation you had with Nunnely was all faked — just to keep my eyes and ears glued to what was going on in the bedroom. That’s why you asked information what his number was — so I’d know whom you were calling and wait right there while your mother—”
Mrs. Goldring said, “I’m going to sue you for that, Mrs. Cool. I have never been so insulted in my life. I—”
“Keep your shirt on,” Bertha told her. “Don’t start yelling before your toes get stepped on. I said Carlotta’s mother.”
Mrs. Croftus threw back her head and laughed. “Up until five minutes ago,” she said, “I haven’t seen Carlotta for years and years — not since she was a baby.”
Bertha said, “I’m not a whiz at this stuff like Donald Lam, but I don’t have to have a ton of bricks fall on me to knock an idea into my head. Mrs. Goldring knew all about you. You knew all about Mrs. Goldring. Mrs. Goldring didn’t want Carlotta to have anything to do with you, and she held a club over you that was big enough and heavy enough to keep you in your place. Then all of a sudden everything gets patched up. You wanted it to appear that you just came tripping up the steps and rang the door-bell without any preliminaries. Bah! That’s a lousy story. It won’t hold water. I don’t know whether you approached Carlotta, or whether Carlotta found out about you. Probably Carlotta took the initiative, because you were afraid to contact her — on account of the club Mrs. Goldring was holding over you. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that Mrs. Goldring was keeping documentary proof that she could show Carlotta in case she had to. The probabilities are those documents were kept locked in a lock box concealed somewhere in the house, and dear little snooping Carlotta, anxious to find out who her mother was, managed to find that box, then snooped around until she got hold of Mabel’s keys and made a wax impression of them. Once she got the box open, she knew who her mother was and went to look her up. A term in the pen wouldn’t bother Carlotta as much as her mother was afraid it might, because dear little Carlotta had found out Mrs. Goldring was going broke and that Mabel Belder had made a will leaving all of the property to Everett in case anything should happen to her. Carlotta, the snivelling, hypocritical, spoiled brat, didn’t intend to be thrown into the discard quite that easily.”
“How you talk,” Carlotta said sneeringly. “But don’t let me stop you. Get it all out of your system, and then we’ll see how much of this you can prove.”
Bertha glanced at Sergeant Sellers. “How am I doing?”
“Go right ahead, Bertha. You’re sticking your neck way out, but keep right on. By the time you get done with this session, you’ll have enough slander suits to enable you to hire a staff of lawyers by the year. But I’d be a damned liar if I tried to tell you I wasn’t enjoying it.”
Bertha said, “Carlotta burnt up that will.”
“In Everett Belder’s office grate?” Mrs. Goldring asked sarcastically.
“In Everett Belder’s grate,” Bertha said. “And I was right there when she did it. And what’s more, Frank Sellers, you were standing right there at the time.
“There was a fire burning in the grate. Some other papers were being burned and I had just gone ahead and made my accusation against Imogene Dearborne. It was a hell of a dramatic moment. Everyone was looking at Imogene, and Carlotta came in with this sweet little innocent statement about not being able to find anyone in the outer office so she came right on in. And you remember she sidled around so she was standing with her back to the fireplace. And in the back of my mind there’s a memory of the fire in that little grate flaring up just as she stood there.”