Belder seemed puzzled. “What’s that?”
“Just telling you,” Bertha said. “When you’ve been around as much as I have— Oh, hell, let it go. I’m only getting paid for this letter job. How about the cat your wife had with her?”
“Did she take the cat with her?”
“Yes. Does she usually drag it around?”
“She has lately. He’s with her all the time, except at night. You just can’t keep him in at night. He loves to ride in automobiles. She’s been taking him with her when she goes out.”
“What’s his name?”
“Whiskers. I wish she thought half as much of me as she does of that damned cat.”
“Perhaps he thinks more of her.”
Belder flushed. “After all, Mrs. Cool—”
“The hell with that stuff,” Bertha said, puncturing his dignified rebuke before he had it completely formulated. “Let’s see that file of personal correspondence.”