The barber glanced after her, then devoted his attention to whipping a white cloth around the neck of his customer. “Hair trim?” he asked.
Bertha had all the time she needed in the back room. She went over to where Everett Belder’s overcoat was hanging and began a methodical search of the pockets.
There was a handkerchief and a half-used paper of matches in the left pocket. The right-hand pocket held a pair of gloves and a spectacle case of the kind that snaps shut.
Bertha casually opened the spectacle case.
There were no glasses on the inside — only a removable gold bridge containing two teeth.
Bertha picked up the purse she had purposely left on the small table, opened it, dropped in the spectacle case and walked out through the barber shop.
“Good day,” the man said mechanically. “Come again.”
“Thank you,” Bertha told him, “I will.”