“Why?”
“Damn it, my wife was jealous of Sally. Sally’s dead. Why advertise another potential victim? Leave Dolly out of it, I tell you.”
Alarmed by Sergeant Sellers’ continued silence, Bertha glanced apprehensively over her shoulder to find that the Sergeant, his soggy cigar propped up at an aggressive angle, had appropriated her purse which had been lying on the dresser, zipped it open, and was now completely engrossed in reading the two letters which Belder had given her.
Bertha said angrily, “Why damn you! you — you—”
Belder’s voice said over the wire, “Why, Mrs. Cool! I haven’t done—”
Bertha said hastily into the telephone, “Not you, I’m talking to the dick.”
Sergeant Sellers didn’t even look up. He was completely absorbed in the letters.
“What’s he doing?” Belder asked.
Bertha said wearily, “Oh, hell! What’s the use? While you’ve been keeping me occupied telling me how you wanted me to handle things, Sergeant Sellers has taken the liberty of opening my purse and reading two letters that he’s taken from it.”
“Oh, Lord!” Belder groaned.