“What did she say?”
“It was the weirdest, most spine-chilling conversation I ever had with any woman in my life.”
“ Now, we’re getting somewhere. I might be able to help you if you’d really open up.”
“How could you help me?”
Bertha turned then to look Mrs. Cornish full in the face. “Let’s not misunderstand each other,” she said. “I can help you, if I can help myself by doing it. I’m a detective. I’ve batted around. I know most of the answers. This is what you choose to call a spine-chilling experience. To me it’s routine stuff. Now, either go ahead and talk or try to keep quiet. If you talk, I’ll talk. If you try to keep quiet, I’ll ring headquarters.”
“You haven’t left me much choice,” Mrs. Cornish said with a nervous little laugh.
“I very seldom do,” Bertha retorted.
Mrs. Cornish thought things over for a few moments. Bertha gave her plenty of time.
“All right, I’ll talk.”
Bertha merely reached forward to grind out the stub of her cigarette.