“Okay, Bertha. He’ll see us at his office; doesn’t want to meet us at the house; says his sister-in-law will horn in on the conversation if we meet there.”
Bertha said nothing.
Sellers yawned loudly and obviously, left his position in the kitchen doorway to move over to the most comfortable chair in the living-room. He settled down, opened the morning newspaper to the sporting page, and started reading.
Bertha Cool placed plates, cups and saucers, knives, forks and spoons on the little table in the breakfast nook.
“Tell me something about detectives,” she called in to Frank Sellers.
“What is it?”
“Do they take their hats off when they eat breakfast?”
“Hell, no. They’d lose caste if they did. They only take their hats off when they take a bath.”
“How do you like your egg?”
“Three minutes and fifteen seconds — and it isn’t egg, it’s eggzzz — the plural of egg — meaning two or more.”