I handed Bertha the telephone. She dialled the number she wanted, and sat there waiting, her little beady eyes blinking rapidly as she thought things over.
Abruptly Bertha cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone, looked up and said, “Ten G’s in it for us, lover?”
“That depends,” I told her. “There could be plenty.”
Bertha nodded with smug complacency. “Now you’re talking,” she said. “I knew I could depend on you to…”
She jerked her hand away from the mouthpiece and said in her most seductive tones, “Hello… hello… hello, Bob? Bob, this is Bertha Cool… Now, Bob, I know you work late, but after all it’s time anyone should be up. I sleep late myself… Look, Bob, I have a favour I want you to do for me. Now be a lamb and do what Bertha wants.”
There was an interval of silence during which Bertha frowned at the telephone, then she apparently interrupted, to say, “Now don’t be like that, Bob. Here’s the set-up. I have a partner, Donald Lam, and he’s working on a case, trying to find somebody who evidently has some contact with the Cabanita. Now, Bob, if you could give him just half an hour — just talk with him No, no, you don’t need to dress, just stick around in your pyjamas. Just talk with him, that’s all… No, it isn’t doing anything that will give your place notoriety… I tell you, it’s just giving my partner a little help… All right, he’ll be right over… You still at the same address?”
“Thanks, Bob, darling. Bertha loves you for that.”
Bertha hung up the telephone and said, “The son-of-a-bitch!”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Half grouchy,” Bertha said. “After all I’ve done for him, too.”