“I’ll be damned if I do, not until you come to your senses. I wouldn’t give you your money if you were drunk, and I’m not going to give it to you while you’re crazy. And what are we going to do about finding Corla Burke?”
“You can hire someone else to get on the job, someone who’s had more experience than I have and who will be crazy to get the position.”
Bertha Cool said, “I’m not so certain that Harry Beegan’s murder isn’t connected with Corla Burke’s disappearance.”
I said, “Helen Framley’s a nice girl. She wouldn’t know about that. All she knows about is Harry Beegan’s murder, and you know how girls like that are. They won’t rat. That’s another reason why I’m quitting my job. She’ll tell me all she knows. If I were working for you, I’d have to betray her confidence. I don’t want to be in that position.”
“Donald, you’re crazy!”
“No. I’m in love.”
“Well, being in love doesn’t need to paralyze your brain cells. You don’t have to—”
There was a gentle knock on her door. She called, “Come in, please.”
The door opened, and Arthur Whitewell stood in the doorway.
Bertha Cool said, “Why, hel-lo, Arthur. Come in.”