“Any time you think she didn’t. I’m a woman. I can tell when I see that look in a woman’s eyes.”
I jerked my thumb toward the telephone. “What do you think I’m doing here?”
“Drinking whisky and relaxing,” she said.
“I’m waiting for that phone to ring,” I told her. “The blonde won’t do it until she’s certain no one’s on her trail.”
“You mean it’s business with her?”
“Of course.”
“How much will she want?”
“Probably not money. Something else.”
“I don’t care what she asks for,” Bertha insisted, eyeing her empty whisky glass in thoughtful contemplation. “She’s fallen for you, hard.”
I lit a cigarette and settled back to the cushioned comfort of the chair.