“How do you know that was the people who sold me the stock. How do you know I bought any stock? What the hell have you been doing? Snooping around in my affairs? Getting into my desk? Have you—”
“Forget it,” I said. “I read you like a book.”
“Yes, you do!”
“And so does everyone else,” I said. “That’s an old racket in the sucker game.”
“What is?”
“Telling a person you want three minutes and guaranteeing to complete what you have to say in that three minutes. You tell them everything you want to, then keep right on talking. The sucker is so anxious to show you that he can’t be bluffed, he keeps calling the time limit, and doesn’t ask the questions he otherwise would. It’s a nice high-pressure method of selling stock.”
Bertha looked at me, gulped twice, picked up the telephone, dialed a number, and said, “This is Bertha Cool. I’ve thought it over. I’ll take it — all right, have the money here — I said the money. I don’t want any goddam checks. I want cash.”
She slammed the receiver back on the hook.
“How much did they offer?” I asked.
“None of your business. What have you been doing?”