Bertha’s eyes glittered into his. “What the hell do you take me for?” she asked.
He said, “There’s got to be some limit.”
Bertha said, “We’ll keep the expenses down.”
“How about expenses for entertainment?”
“There won’t be any. And we’ll want two hundred dollars in advance.”
Whitewell started making out his check. “If you can either find her or get proof that she left of her own free will within a week, I’ll give you a bonus of five hundred dollars. And if you can find her, I’ll make it an even thousand.”
Bertha looked across at me. “You get that, Donald?”
I nodded.
“Well, get out and start working. I may have been cooped up in a sanitarium for six months, but I don’t need any help to sign a receipt.”