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So far as build and figure and complexion were concerned, it looked as if they were sufficiently similar to wear each other’s clothes.

Bertha handed the pictures back to Cutler.

“Seems rather young,” I said.

Cutler nodded. “She’s ten years younger than I am. I suppose that may have had something to do with it. However, I don’t want to bore you with my troubles. I came here to see if I could get some proof that she was living here. I should be able to find someone who knows.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” I told him. “Perhaps it will come to me later on. Where can I reach you?”

He gave me his card, Marco Cutler, Stocks and Bonds, Hollywood. I put it in my pocket and promised I’d communicate with him if I found myself able to remember anything more about the tenant that had been in the apartment three years ago.

Goldring said, “I’m in the telephone book. Give me a ring if you get any dope before Mr. Cutler goes back. An’ if you’ve got any papers you want solved, give me a chance at ‘em.”

I said I would, then to Cutler, “Can’t you force your wife to admit she was here? It would seem that she’d have to show all the details of where she was-if she claims the papers weren’t served.”

Cutler said, “That is not as easy as it sounds. My wife is inclined to be rather baffling and secretive. Well, thank you very much.”

He nodded to Goldring. They got up. Goldring gave a quick look around the apartment and started for the door. Cutler paused. “I don’t know how to thank you for your co-operation,” he said. “I realize, of course, that something which seems very grave and very important to me is a minor matter to a person who knows none of the parties. I certainly appreciate your courtesy.”

When the door had closed behind them, Bertha turned to me. “I like him,” she said.

I said, “Yes. He does have a pleasing voice, and—”

“Don’t be a damn fool,” Bertha said. “Not Cutler. Goldring.”

“Oh.”

“Cutler is a damn mealy-mouthed hypocrite,” Bertha announced, “No one who’s that polite can be sincere about it, and being insincere is just another way of being a damn hypocrite. Goldring is the one I like. He doesn’t beat around the bush with a lot of palaver.”

I tried imitating Goldring’s voice. “Dat’s right,” I said.

Bertha glared at me. “At times you can be the most exasperating little shrimp that ever wore out good shoe leather. Come on. Let’s call Hale. He should have reached New York by this time. At any rate, we can leave a call for him.”

Chapter Seven

We sat in the hotel waiting for the telephone call to be completed. Central had reported that no one was at Hale’s office, and the house as yet hadn’t answered.

Bertha said into the telephone, “We don’t know just what time he’ll get home. It’ll be sometime tonight. Keep trying.”

I said to Bertha, “I want something to eat while we’re waiting. It’s my dinner time.”

Bertha wouldn’t think of letting me go out. “I want you here when this call comes through. Have something sent up.”

I told her it would probably be midnight before we heard from him, but had a waiter bring up a menu. Bertha looked it over, and decided she’d have a shrimp cocktail while I was having my steak dinner.

“You know I just can’t sit and watch you eat,” she said.

I nodded.

The waiter seemed solicitous. “Just a shrimp cocktail?” he asked.

“What are those oysters Rockefeller?” Bertha inquired.

“Baked oysters,” he said, his face lighting with enthusiasm. “The shells are placed in hot rock salt. There’s a little touch of garlic and a special sauce. That sauce is something of a secret. And then they’re baked, right in their shells.”

“It sounds good,” Bertha said. “I’ll try half a dozen-no, make it a dozen. Put some French bread in the oven, toast it brown, put on lots of melted butter, and bring me a pot of coffee with a big pitcher of cream and lots of sugar.”

“Yes, madam.”

Bertha glowered at me. “Pure coffee,” she snapped.

“Yes, madam. Some dessert?”

“Well, I’ll see how I feel when I get done with that,” Bertha said.

After the waiter had gone. Bertha looked at me, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, she brought it up herself. “After all,” she said, “you can only put on just so much weight in any one day. I see no reason for counting calories, now that I’ve already put all the food into my system it can possibly absorb for one day.”

I said, “It’s your life. Why not live it the way you want?”

“I think I will.”

There was silence for a few moments; then she said in a low voice, “Look, lover, there’s something I want to say to you.”

“What?”

She said, “You’re a brainy little cuss, but you don’t know a damn thing about money. It takes Bertha to handle the finances.”

“What now?”

Bertha said, as though afraid she was starting an argument, “Since you left Los Angeles, we’ve gone into a new business.”

“What is it?”

There was that cunning look on Bertha’s face which comes when she’s putting something over, “The B. Cool Construction Company. I’m the president and you’re general manager.”

“What do we construct?”

“Right now,” Bertha said, “we’re working on a military housing job. It’s a very small job, something that we can handle all right. You won’t need to bother with it much. It’s a subcontract.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

Bertha said, “I thought we shouldn’t have too many eggs in one basket. You can’t tell what’s going to happen, the way things are going now.”

“But why pick up this construction job?”

“Oh, I just saw an opportunity to get in on something.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing to me.” I waited.

Bertha took a deep breath. “Dammit,” she said, “I’ve got a lot of executive ability. Since you came in as a partner, I have been doing too much deep-sea fishing. Sitting out there on the barge, and thinking about the way that young boys are dying, just because us older folks haven’t carried out our share of the responsibility— Well, we’ve gone into this construction business, and that’s all there is to it. Don’t bother too much about it. I’ll call on you from time to time for anything I need, but for the most part Bertha can handle it.”

The telephone rang before I could say anything.

Bertha snatched up the receiver with an eagerness which showed how much she welcomed the interruption. She held it to her ear, said, “Hello! Oh, hello — I was trying to get you. Where are you... No, no. I was trying to get you... Oh, you did. Well, isn’t that strange? Well, tell me what you have to say first... Oh, all right, if you insist. Better brace yourself. We’ve got some news for you... That’s right. We’ve found her. Down at the Gulfpride Apartments on St. Charles Avenue... No. The Gulfpride. G-u-l-f-p-r-i-d-e. That’s it... Oh, that’s a professional secret. We’ve got our way of uncovering leads. It was a pretty cold trail, but we’ve been working like dogs ever since you left. You’d be surprised at the number of leads we’ve run down... No, I haven’t talked with her yet. Donald did... Yes, my partner, Donald Lam.”

There was an interval during which I could hear the rasping, metallic sound of his voice coming through the telephone transmitter. Bertha sat there and listened. She said, “Well-yes-I guess I can.”