“Why not? I couldn’t drive out to Los Angeles, kill Boll-man, and then drive all the way back here by myself.”
“No, but you could have done all that, then had someone else drive you out here, and cook up this nice-sounding story.”
“If Bollman didn’t bring me out here, who did?” Kosling demanded.
Bertha Cool frowned at him. “That,” she said, “is what I’ve been trying to think of for the last minute. But I know who Sergeant Sellers will say did it — now.”
“Who?” Kosling asked.
“Me! And I’ve put my fist on the hotel register downstairs.”
Chapter XXV
Bertha Cool stood Kosling up on the chair and said, “Now keep your balance. Here, put up your hand. No, the other hand. Now you can reach the chandelier — now, stay perfectly still because I’m going to let go of you.”
Bertha gently withdrew her hands.
“It’s all right,” the blind man said. “I’m all right now.”