Bertha tilted the pitcher of melted butter over the waffle, piled on syrup, said, “Bring me another pot of pure coffee and fill up that cream pitcher.” She turned to Hale. “I told you he was a brainy little cuss.”
Hale nodded. “I’m very well satisfied with my selection of the agency. I feel quite certain you’ll handle the matter satisfactorily.”
I said, “I don’t want to seem insistent, Mr. Hale, but—”
He laughed aloud. For the moment, his teeth almost parted. “I know. I know,” he said. “You’re going to come back to the original question. Well, Mr. Lam, I’ll tell you. We want to find her in order to close up an estate. I regret that I can’t tell you anything else. After all, you know, I am working for a client. I am governed by his wishes. It would be well for you to adopt a similar attitude.”
Bertha washed down a mouthful of waffle with a gulp of hot coffee, said, “You mean he’s not supposed to start backtracking in order to find out what it’s all about?”
Hale said, “My client will see that you are given the necessary information, and inasmuch as he is in reality your employer — well, I think you can appreciate what an embarrassing circumstance it would be if friction should develop.”
Bertha Cool frowned across at me. “You get that, Donald,” she said. “Don’t go playing around with a lot of theories. You stick to the job in hand. Find that Fenn girl and quit worrying about who wants her. You understand? Forget that romantic angle.”
Hale glanced over at me, to see how I was taking it. Then he looked back at Bertha. “That’s being put a great deal more bluntly than I’d have said it, Mrs. Cool.”
Bertha said, “I know. You’d have done a lot of palavering around. This gets it over with. There’s no misunderstanding this way. I don’t mince words. I hate beating around the bush.”
He smiled. “You’re a very direct woman, Mrs. Cool.”