“How did you overlook it?” she asked. “And what was the bet?”
I said, “I’ll show you.” I went to the telephone and called Western Union. I dictated a night message to the State Bureau of Vital Statistics at Sacramento, California, asking for information concerning the marriage of Amelia Sellar, and a search of death records for a burial under the married name if they were found.
I hung up the telephone to find Bertha Cool grinning at me. “It looks as though we’re getting somewhere, lover,” she said.
I said, “You must have a list of operatives who can be called at short notice.”
“I do,” Bertha said.
“All right. Get a couple of them. Describe John Harbet. Have them cover police headquarters. I want to know where Harbet goes when he leaves there.”
“Won’t he go back to Santa Carlotta?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Not now.”
Bertha Cool crossed over to a writing-desk and took out a leather-backed notebook. “It may take an hour or so to get them on the job,” she said.
“An hour’s too long,” I told her. “Get, people who can go to work immediately. Hire the operatives of another detective agency. Have them on the job within twenty minutes.” Bertha Cool started telephoning. I went back to the trunk.