Sergeant Sellers moved his body back and forth enlarging the angle of his vision as far as possible.
“Imogene, cut out that damn bawling, take your pencil and make a note of these places: Dr. Cawlburn, physician and surgeon... Dr. Elwood Z. Champlin, dentist... The dentist looks the most promising. We’ll take a chance on him first; dental chairs always face the windows. I can look across and see a patient in that chair right now. Get those telephone numbers for me, Imogene... Come on, snap out of it!”
Imogene might not have heard him. She sat in the chair sobbing.
Sergeant Sellers got up out of his chair, reached across, grabbed her shoulder, gave it a quick shake, said, “Snap out of it. Do your bawling after office hours. I’m working on a murder case. Get out there and look up those numbers.”
Imogene glanced up at him and, at the expression on his face, suddenly got to her feet, crossed to Belder’s desk, picked up a telephone directory and began looking up numbers, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief from time to time.
Belder handed her a pencil and a memo pad. He patted her arm awkwardly. “There, there, Miss Dearborne,” he said. “Don’t feel that way about it.”
She jerked her arm away from his touch, wrote out the telephone numbers, tore the sheet off the memo pad, and handed it to Sergeant Sellers.
Sellers picked up the telephone, dialled a number, said, “This is Sergeant Sellers of Police Headquarters. I want to talk with Dr. Elwood Champlin, personally... Okay, put him on... Police Headquarters. Tell him it’s important...” While he was waiting, Sellers picked up the cigar which he had deposited on the desk, puffed it into renewed activity, and held it tilted at an aggressive upward angle. Abruptly he removed it, said into the mouthpiece, “Hello, this Dr. Champlin?... That’s right. Yes, Sergeant Sellers from Police Headquarters. Look at your appointment book and tell me what patients you had in the chair in your office last Monday between two o’clock and three-fifteen... No, just the names of the patients... All right, what’s the next name? H-a-r-w-o-o-d. All right, I’ve got that. Who’s next?”
A slow grin came over Sergeant Sellers’ face. “Miss or Mrs?” he asked.
“I see. All right, thank you very much, Doctor. I’ll get in touch with you later on... Yes, that’s all I wanted to know.”