“Now, when you went out to Kosling’s house, you didn’t by any chance have an appointment to meet Kosling and Bollman out there, did you? You didn’t find Kosling gibbering with fright, telling you Bollman had been killed, and you didn’t tell Kosling to go through the back and wait for you at some appointed place, did you?”
“Heavens no!”
Sellers put his big palms on the arms of the chair, pushed himself to his feet, looked down at Mrs. Cool, and said, “It wouldn’t be nice if you were to try slipping something over. I don’t know yet just what’s at stake. I’ll find out later. When I find out I’ll know a lot more than I do know. You understand how annoyed I’d be if it turned out you were standing between me and the solution of the murder case.”
“Naturally,” Bertha said.
“I guess that covers it,” Sergeant Sellers announced.
“Very thoroughly,” Bertha told him, and saw him as far as the door.
Bertha waited at the door of the entrance office until she heard the clang of the elevator door; then she dashed back and said to Elsie Brand, “Get me the garage where I keep my car, Elsie. Quick!”
Elsie Brand’s nimble fingers flew around the dial of the telephone. “Here you are, Mrs. Cool!”
Bertha Cool took the telephone “This is Mrs. Cool,” she said. “I’m confronted with an emergency. Do you have a boy on duty who can deliver my car?”
“Why, yes, Mrs. Cool. It’s only a block from your office, you know.”