“That’s right. No more letters.”
“Why I–I thought—”
“I know you did,” Bertha Cool said, “and so did I. That’s where we made a mistake. Those lawyers are counsel of record in personal injury cases. I thought we could write to solicit business — that there might be a missing witness or something.” Elsie Brand said, “But why not? I think it’s a splendid idea. It gives you a chance to contact future clients who are in the big money, and—”
“That’s just it,” Bertha interrupted. “I’m tired of big money. Not the money,” she added hastily, “but the strain and excitement that goes with that high-pressure stuff.
“I never used to get those big cases. I ran a quiet, cosy little detective agency specializing in the type of work other agencies wouldn’t take. Mostly divorce stuff. Then Donald Lam walked into the office, got me to give him a job, and weaseled his way into a partnership... It wasn’t thirty minutes after he’d started working here before the whole business changed. My income went up and my blood-pressure went up with it. At the end of the year, the government is going to take away fifty per cent of the income, but nobody’s going to take away half of the blood-pressure... The hell with it. Now Donald’s in the Navy, I’m going to run the business my own way.”
Bertha glowered belligerently at Elsie Brand as though expecting an argument.
Elsie Brand silently opened a drawer in the desk, dropped the list of lawyers Bertha had culled from the court records into the drawer, scooped up a pile of letters some two inches thick, and said, “How about the letters I’ve already written? Do you want to send them?”
Bertha said, “Tear ’em up, throw ’em in the waste-basket... No, wait a minute. Damn it, it’s cost me money to have those letters written — stationery, time, wear-and-tear on the typewriter... All right, Elsie, we’ll use them. Bring ’em in and I’ll sign ‘em — but we won’t send out any more.”
Bertha turned, stalked back into her private office, plumped her heavily muscled, competent frame down into the swivel chair, and cleared away a place in front of her on the blotter so she could sign the letters Elsie Brand brought in.
Elsie laid the letters down on the desk, stood beside Mrs. Cool, blotting each letter as Bertha Cool signed it. Bending methodically back and forth, watching the open door, she said suddenly, “A man just came into the entrance-room.”