“If you’re playing around with that woman, we’re going to nail you.”
“What woman?”
“Roberta Fenn.”
“What about her?”
“The police in New Orleans want her, and the way things are now, so do we.”
“What’s the next paragraph?”
“If you know where she is and are keeping her under cover, you’re going to get a spanking right where it’s going to hurt, and it’s going to be a nice, hard spanking.”
I said, “Okay, thanks for the tip,” and walked out.
From a booth in the building, I called the office. Bertha Cool had just come in. I told her I’d be there in about two hours. She wanted to know what was doing, and I told her I couldn’t discuss it over the telephone.
I went to the hotel. Roberta Fenn was sleeping late. I sat on the edge of her bed, said, “Let’s talk,”