“Information.”
“What’s the information?”
“You’ll be surprised when—”
Bertha interrupted impatiently. “Listen, I’ve got work to do. If I’m to get the information you want, I’ll have more to do. Now, let’s get it over with. What do you want?”
“I want the name of Everett Belder’s barber.”
Despite herself, expression showed on Bertha Cool’s face. “His barber!”
“ That’s right.”
“Good heavens, why?”
The woman extended a long, pointed, coral-tipped finger toward the fifty dollars on the desk. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
Bertha’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not certain that I’m free to get that information for you. I’m doing some work for Mr. Belder. Let me go out and look at the carbon copy of the receipt I gave Belder, and see just what it covers. I—”