“What’s the answer?” Sergeant Sellers asked.
“Imogene Dearborne, the slate-eyed little siren who sits up in Everett Belder’s office and looks as though she didn’t have a thought in the world except to get her duties discharged with secretarial efficiency.”
Frank Sellers cracked an egg open and judicially inspected the contents.
“Now then, how does that look to you?” Bertha asked, awaiting praise for her powers of deduction.
“Just a little bit too well done,” Sergeant Sellers said, “but what the hell, I can eat it.”
8
Who Saw What?
Sergeant Sellers pushed open the door marked “EVERETT G. BELDER, Sales Engineer,” and stood to one side for Bertha Cool to enter.
“Don’t say we aren’t polite on occasion,” he muttered.
“You slay me,” Bertha said, marching into the office.