“Because I wanted to see what oculist she patronized. An oculist would have her name and address. Remember, she didn’t have the prescription. She simply wired her oculist to send her new glasses.” Bertha Cool stared steadily at me. Her eyes narrowed. She said, “I’m wondering if you’re thinking of the same thing I am, Donald.”
“What?”
“That perhaps that wire didn’t go to San Francisco at all, but went to Dr. Alftmont in Santa Carlotta?”
I said, “I thought of that a long time ago. That’s one of the reasons I was so anxious to get the shipment in the original package.”
Bertha Cool said admiringly, “You are a brainy little bastard, Donald. You don’t overlook many bets. The glasses didn’t show up, eh?”
“No.”
Bertha Cool said, “That means just one thing, lover. The person to whom she wired for the glasses knew that she wasn’t going to be there to receive the shipment, and, therefore, didn’t send them.”
I said, “Where’s Marian?”
“We have her fixed up in a nice little apartment. They’ve found out quite a bit about the case, and Marian’s testimony is most important. She remembers that when she opened the door the morning paper was lying on the floor where it had been pushed through the crack under the door. It was still there when the police arrived. That means the murderer found her in bed.”
“What else?” I asked.