“Well, suppose Paul poisoned him and they found out about it afterwards?”
“No, you don’t understand, Mrs. Cool. In the event that the public authorities, of their own accord, started an investigation, the situation would, of course, be different; but if it should appear that any of the parties were inconvenienced in any way by some action I had taken, or was taking in connection with some investigation which might have, as one of its results, a different division of the estate from that mentioned in the agreement—no, Mrs. Cool, I couldn’t take a chance on doing it. Frankly, I consider that I have made a very advantageous settlement.”
“I guess so,” Bertha Cool said savagely. “When a bunch of murderers can bribe a man not to investigate the murder of a relative–-“
Milbers held up his hand, palm outward as though he had been a traffic officer stopping a stream of oncoming traffic. “Just one moment, Mrs. Cool pull-ease,” he said. “I am mentioning only about hiring you. So far as any investigation made by the authorities is concerned, that of course, would, be through no volition on my part, and would in no way subject me to any criticism. But to employ you, to actually pay money directly or on a percentage basis to you as an investigator in order to dig up some evidence of that, sort, that would cost me exactly one hundred thousand dollars. No, Mrs. Cool, I couldn’t consider it, not for a moment. I know my lawyer would thumbs-down your proposition in a minute. He’d censure me for even discussing the matter.”
“It’s a slick dodge,” Bertha said. “They blackmailed him into making this will; then they poisoned him. Then they make a ‘compromise’ with you so their scheme won’t be discovered. It’s a hell of a note 1”
“But I can’t think they resorted to blackmail any more than they did to murder. To tell you the truth, I know my cousin wrote that will. His remarks contained in it are typical. I resent them, but I know now that he never intended me to get a penny more than that ten thousand. This agreement is a windfall so far as I’m concerned.”
“Did they come to you, or did you go to them?”
“They came to me.”
“Sure. Rob a man, kill him, and soften up his heir with a hundred grand so there’ll be no investigation! Pretty slick!”
“There’s nothing to prevent you going to the authorities, Mrs. Cool.”
Bertha said angrily, “Phooey! The authorities wouldn’t get to first base with the thing and where would there be anything in it for me on that basis?”
“Well, of course, Mrs. Cool, if you have some evidence that—”
“What I have, I have,” Bertha Cool said, getting up out of the chair. “I make my living by selling my knowledge.”
“If you have anything in which you think the police should be interested, it is your duty to go to them. If you have any knowledge it is your duty—”
Bertha said, “In other words, you won’t put a red cent on the line. You’re going to sit tight, but you’d like to see that the police get some anonymous tip that’ll start them making an investigation. I suppose you’re trying now to get me to stick my neck out and go to the police on a thank-you basis.”
“It would be the proper thing to do,” Milbers said. “If, as a citizen, you have any knowledge concerning a crime, or even any clues which remotely indicate—”
Bertha started for the door saying, “I’ll get out and let you get dressed. There’s a drugstore on the corner with a phone booth.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” Milbers said.
“The hell you don’t,” Bertha said grimly. “Within ten minutes after I’m out of here the police will get an anonymous call telling them that Harlow Milbers was poisoned and suggesting that they look up the death certificate, talk with the doctor, and then exhume the body in order to get proof. Then you can hang up, come back here, and go to bed with that smug smile wrapped all over your face. It’ll have cost you five cents for the telephone call, and that’s all.”
“But my dear Mrs. Cool. You don’t understand —”
Bertha reached the door in two quick strides, jerked it open, and slammed it shut on the rest of Milbers’ speech.
The taxi which had brought Bertha to the hotel was waiting at the curb as Bertha came out.
The cab driver touched his cap. “All right, ma’am,” be said with an engaging smile. “The gravy train is waiting.”
“Gravy train I” Bertha said, glowering the smile right off of his face. “Gravy train hell! Gravy train my eye!”
Chapter XX
1942 AUG 31 VALLEJO, CALIFORNIA
(NIGHT LETTER COLLECT) BERTHA COOL, CONFIDENTIAL INVESTIGATIONS
DREXEL BUILDING
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
KEY CLUE TO ENTIRE SITUATION IS FACT THAT INTERMUTUAL INDEMNITY COMPANY SEEKS TO GET RELEASE THROUGH YOU. THIS INDICATES THEY DO NOT HAVE NAME AND ADDRESS OF INJURED PARTY. ACCORDING TO WITNESS, JOSEPHINE DELL GAVE DRIVER OF CAR THAT STRUCK HER HER NAME, ADDRESS, AND PERMITTED DRIVER TO TAKE HER HOME. SITUATION SEEMS UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE. ONE POSSIBLE EXPLANATION IS THAT DRIVER HAD BEEN DRINKING BUT WAS SUFFICIENTLY GLIB TO KEEP IT CONCEALED UNTIL AFTER DELL GOT IN AUTOMOBILE. DELL MIGHT THEN HAVE MADE DRIVER STOP CAR AND PUT HER OUT BEFORE GETTING HOME. INVESTIGATE THIS ANGLE. SUGGEST YOU RUN BLUFF ON INSURANCE COMPANY, TELLING THEM DRIVER BADLY INTOXICATED AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS. FOR SOME REASON, JOSEPHINE DELL IS NOT TELLING YOU ENTIRE TRUTH.
REGARDS. DONALD LAM.
Chapter XXI
BERTHA SAID INDIGNANTLY to Elsie Brand, “Take a telegram to Donald. ‘Your telegram absolutely, utterly cockeyed. Have talked with Josephine Dell, who says man perfect gentleman, drove her home, solicitous over welfare. Can think of plenty of crazy things myself which don’t coincide with facts without paying for collect messages containing cockeyed theories. Suggest you devote attention exclusively to winning war. Have no further connection with case. Parties have all made settlement, leaving agency out in the cold.’ “
Bertha hesitated a moment, then said to Elsie Brand, “Read that back to me.”
Elsie read it back.
“Type that up and sign my name to it,” Bertha said, “and –”
She broke off as the door from the corridor opened. The tall, grave, dignified young man from the Intermutual Indemnity Company bowed gravely. “Good morning, Mrs. Cool.”
“You again,” Bertha said.
“A most unfortunate situation has developed. May I talk with you at once, Mrs. Cool?”
“Come on in,” Bertha said.
“Shall I send that telegram?” Elsie asked..
“Yes, write it out, but let me read it before it goes out. Ring for a messenger.”
Bertha Cool led the way into her private office. Fosdick, the insurance adjuster, settled himself comfortably in the chair, brought up his leather brief-case, rested it on his lap, and wrapped his arms around the top of it, using the brief-case as an arm rest. “A most unfortunate situation has arisen,” he repeated.
Bertha didn’t say anything.
After a moment Fosdick went on, “Did you, by any chance, know a man named Jerry Bollman?”
“What’s be got to do with it?”
“He promised us to arrange a complete settlement—for our own figure, one thousand dollars. He made us promise that we wouldn’t question what became of the money. In other words, he could turn over a less amount to the injured party if he desired. We didn’t care, just so we got a complete release supported by an ample legal consideration. The injured party, once she had signed the release, could divide the money any way she wanted to, or she could permit some other person to collect the money for her if she desired.
“Mr. Bollman seemed absolutely confident of his ability to secure such a release. In fact, it seemed he had quite an interest in the injured party. He was, I believe, going with her roommate and intended to marry her soon.”
“Bollman told you that?” Bertha Cool asked.
Fosdick nodded.
“Give you any names?”
“No.
He just referred to the young woman as the injured party, and the other young woman as the room-mate. He told a very convincing, straightforward story, however.”
“And you fell for it?”
Fosdick’s eyebrows raised.
Bertha Cool said, “You’re young. You’re just out of Harvard or some other law school that’s given you a superiority complex. You think you know it all. For Christ’s sake, snap out of it!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Skip it.”
Fosdick’s manner was that of a complete martyr. He managed to convey the impression that the customer was always right, that he wouldn’t even try to defend himself. He said demurely, “I have no doubt Mr. Bollman could have substantiated his story. Unfortunately, however, I see from this morning’s paper that Mr. Bollman was killed last night. It is, of course, regrettable from the standpoint of society and—”
“And the relatives of the dead man,” Bertha Cool pointed out. “But as far as you’re concerned, it’s just a plain calamity. Well, I don’t think Bollman would have done anything except take you for a ride, and keep stringing you along. You know damn well you can’t settle a case like that for a thousand dollars.”
“Why not?”
Bertha Cool laughed and said, “A man so drunk he could hardly see where he was going knocks down a pretty girl, gives her a brain concussion, and you want to settle for a thousand bucks.”
Bertha Cool’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Fosdick said, “We are making no admissions and no concessions whatever, Mrs. Cool, but we definitely do not agree with you concerning the statement that our insured was intoxicated.”
Bertha laughed sarcastically. “Your man was so dead drunk,” she said, “that he can’t even remember the name and address of the woman whom he struck.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Fosdick said with the slow speech of one who is meticulously choosing his words. “The young woman became hysterical and was hardly accountable for her actions.”
“And your man couldn’t even remember where he took her,” Bertha said.
“Pardon, Mrs. Cool, but the young lady was so hysterical that she refused to permit the insured to carry her all the way home, nor would she tell him where she lived when she finally got out of the automobile.”
The door of the private office opened. Elsie Brand came in with the telegram. “If you’ll just check this over,” she said, “the messenger boy is in the outer office.”
Bertha Cool snatched at the telegram and slid it under the blotter of her desk. “Give the boy ten cents,” she said. “I’m not going to send the telegram just now.”
“Ten cents?” Elsie Brand asked.
“Well,” Bertha conceded reluctantly. “Make it fifteen. I’m busy and don’t disturb me. I’ll send this telegram later.”
She turned back to Fosdick as soon as the door of the office had closed. “What’s the use of beating around the bush? Your man was drunk. He was too drunk to be driving the car. Not only did he knock this girl down, but when he tried to drive her home, it became very apparent he was too drunk to pilot the car, so she had to get out. Personally, I would say you were lucky if you got out of it for under twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty thousand dollars!”
“Exactly.”
“Mrs. Cool, are you crazy?”
“I’m not crazy. You are. I know what a jury will do. Apparently you don’t.”
Fosdick said, “Well, of course, juries at times are emotional, but unfortunately, their conduct is subject to a certain regulatory supervision by the appellate court.”
“A jury might make it fifty. I don’t know. You don’t know.” Fosdick laughed. “Come, come. Mrs. Cool. Your client wasn’t damaged very greatly.”
“No?” Bertha Cool asked with a rising inflection. “You think not?”
She saw that this worried Fosdick. “We feel that under the circumstances our own physician should be given an opportunity to examine the young woman.”
“All in good time,” Bertha said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You can get a court order.”
“But we don’t want to go to court.”
“I mean after you get dragged into court, you can get a court order.”
“Are we going to be dragged into court?”
“You don’t think for a minute that we’re going to let your man pull a stunt like that, and then simply send him a box of candy or a birthday card, do you?”
“Aren’t you being a bit unreasonable, Mrs. Cool?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look here. Suppose we settle this thing on a basis that will really make you some money. Your client’s injuries didn’t amount to much, but, for obvious reasons, we dislike very much to go to court. Suppose we say three thousand dollars cash, right on the nail?”
Bertha threw back her head and laughed.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Fosdick said, leaning forward. “I’ll make it five.”
Bertha, afraid to let him see her eyes, said, “You don’t realize how ridiculous you are.”
“But five thousand! Surely, Mrs. Cool, that’s an enormous settlement.”
“You think so?”
“What are you expecting to get?”
Bertha looked at him then. “All the traffic will bear,” she said.
“You’ve got the offer now,” Fosdick announced, getting to his feet. “That’s the extreme limit. I was going to come up to three today and not go up to five until after suit had been filed. Those were my instructions. I’ve taken it on myself to give you the break and let you have my final offer now.”
“Nice of you,” Bertha said.
“You have my card,” Fosdick announced with dignity. ‘You can telephone me when you’re ready to accept.”
“Don’t stick around waiting for the phone to ring.”
“And,” Fosdick announced, “needless to say, this is an offer of compromise. It is not permissible in evidence. It is not an admission of liability, and, unless it is accepted within reasonable time, it will be withdrawn.”
With elaborate carelessness, Bertha said, “Withdraw it now f you want to. It’s okay by me.”
Fosdick pretended not to hear her, but left the room with the greatest dignity.
Bertha Cool waited only until she felt certain he had reached the elevator; then she bustled out to the outer office. “Elsie, take a telegram to Donald.”
“Another one?”
“Yes.”
Elsie Brand held her pencil poised over the notebook. Bertha Cool started dictating a telegram.
DONALD DEAR YOU HAVE BEEN VERY NICE AND THOUGHTFUL TO SEND BERTHA ALL OF YOUR IDEAS. MY VERY BEST THANKS. DONALD LOVER TELL ME WHY SHOULD JOSEPHINE DELL LIE TO ME ABOUT THE ACCIDENT? WHY SHOULD SHE BE WILLING TO SACRIFICE A FAT SETTLEMENT IN ORDER TO KEEP FROM TELLING EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TIME OF THE ACCIDENT?
WIRE BERTHA COLLECT. LOTS OF LOVE AND BEST WISHES TO YOU.
“Is that,” Elsie asked dryly, “all?”
“That’s all.”
“And that other telegram. It’s in on your desk I believe doyou want to send that?”
“Good heavens, no!” Bertha said. “Take that telegram, tear it up, put it in the wastebasket. Even tear that page out of your notebook. I must have been terribly angry when I dictated it. Donald certainly is a smart little devil.”
Elsie Brand’s smile was enigmatic. “Was there,” she asked “anything else?”
“That,” Bertha announced, “is all.”
Chapter XXII
1942 AUG 31 VALLEJO, CALIFORNIA
(STRAIGHT MESSAGE COLLECT) BERTHA COOL, CONFIDENTIAL INVESTIGATIONS
DREXEL BUILDING
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
SUGGEST ASKING HER ROOM-MATE. REGARDS.
DONALD LAM.
Chapter XXIII
THE MANAGER OF the Bluebonnet Apartments opened the door and said, “Good afternoon. We have
some very nice single apartments, one particularly choice with a—” She broke off as she recognized Bertha Cool.
Bertha said, “Just a moment, please. I might be able to make you some money.”
The manager hesitated, thought that over and said, “Well?” Bertha said, “I’m looking for someone, and if you can help me find her, I think my client would be grateful—financially.”
“Who?” the woman asked.
“The young woman who moved in with Josephine Dell.”
“You mean Myrna Jackson.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want her for?”
Bertha Cool opened her purse, took out a card and gave it o the manager. “She’s a witness to an automobile accident. I’m running an investigating bureau.”
“How much?”
“Ten dollars.”
“When?”
“As soon as I find the party.”
“That’s taking a long gamble for a small sum.”
Bertha Cool gave the manager her best smile. “You don’t lave to do much. Just tell me what you know about her.”
“All right, come in.”
The manager led the way to a ground floor apartment, indicated a chair for Bertha, opened a drawer containing a file of cards, and selected a card which had names and figures on it. “It was exactly a month ago,” she said, “that she moved in. The maid told me that another name had been placed next to that of Josephine Dell on the directory. I asked Miss Dell about it the next night. She said that a friend of the man for whom she was working had moved in with her. I told her that the rent had been fixed on the basis of single tenancy, and she got mad and wanted to know what difference it made to me how many people were in there. She said that she’d paid the rent and that was all there was to it; that if two people lived in a single apartment, it made it inconvenient for them but it didn’t hurt the apartment any.
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