Bertha said, “Well, go ahead with the facts. I’m sorry we interrupted you.” She glared at me and added, “And I didn’t throw those clothes away. I’ve got them stored in a cedar closet.”
Hale said, “Well, let’s see. Oh, yes, Roberta Fenn was twenty-three when she disappeared. She was an agency model in New York. She posed for some of the ads, the petty stuff. She never got the best-advertised products. Her legs were marvelous. She did a lot of stocking work — some bathing-suit and underwear stuff. It seems incredible a young woman who had been photographed so much could disappear.”
Bertha said, “People don’t look at the faces of the underwear models.”
Hale went on: “Apparently it was a voluntary disappearance, although we can’t find out why. None of her friends can throw any light on it. She had no enemies, no financial troubles, and as far as can be ascertained, there was no reason why she should have vanished so suddenly — certainly not the usual reasons.”
“Love affair?” I asked.
“Apparently not. The outstanding characteristic of this young woman was her complete independence. She liked to live her own life. She was secretive about her private life, but her friends insist that was only because she was too independent to have confidants. She was a very self-sufficient young woman. When she went out with a man, she always went Dutch, so she wouldn’t feel under any obligations.”
“That is carrying independence altogether too far,” Bertha announced.
“Why do you want her now?” I asked. “In other words, why let the case lie dormant for three years, and then get in a dither about finding her, rush detectives down to New Orleans go flying around the country, and—”
The two rows of regular teeth glistened at me. He was nodding his head and smiling. “A very astute young man,” he said to Bertha. “Very smart indeed! You notice? He puts his finger right on the keynote of the whole business.”
Bertha’s waitress handed her the plate with the waffle. Bertha put on two squares of butter. The waitress said, “There’s melted butter in that pitcher, ma’am.”