“Want me to go with you?”
“That,” I said, “is just what I don’t want, and you’d better get some new tyres for the agency car — or else get a new car for the agency tyres — and then throw the tyres away.”
She said, “I’ll do that, Donald, but don’t ever go away again where Bertha doesn’t know where you are. I’ve had an awful job trying to hold this thing in line. Our client seems to have more confidence in you than he has in me.”
I got up and ground out my cigarette in an ash-tray. “While I’m gone, try to find out if a Flo Mortinson was a hostess at the Blue Cave. Locate her, find out about her trunks — if any. Get a room near her.”
“All right. Will you give me a ring as soon as you’ve seen Marian, Donald?”
“It depends. I’m doing everything I can on this case.”
“I know, lover, but time’s getting short. The thing is going to break any minute now, and when it does, Smith is on the skids for a one-way ride.”
“Are you,” I asked, “telling me?” and walked out.
Elsie Brand looked up from her typing long enough to ask, “What happened to your nose, Donald?”
“I went to a plastic surgeon,” I said, “and he was rough.”