“No, Mrs. Cool, I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Then,” Bertha said, “if you want to be absolutely fair, ring up this automobile club representative and tell him that it was all a mistake, that you got the licence number wrong.”
Instant suspicion appeared in Josephine Dell’s eyes. “I don’t think I got the licence number wrong,” she said.
“I tell you, you did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know the insurance company that’s actually handling the case.”
“All right,” Josephine Dell said, “if you know so much about it, go ahead and tell me what was wrong with the licence number. What was the licence number of the man who did hit me?”
Bertha Cool tried to avoid that. She said, “I’ve actually talked with the representative of the insurance company. He told me that if you—”
“What was the licence number of the man who did hit me?” Josephine Dell interrupted.
“I don’t know,” Bertha Cool confessed.