The voice on the other side of the door said, “I’ll have a look at you first.”
The bolt turned, a chain rattled, and the door swing back about three inches, leaving a crack just big enough for a pair of dark, sparkling eyes to take in Bertha Cool’s big frame. Bertha moved her hand so the diamond glittered, and Frieda Tarbing rattled the chain loose, and said, “Come on in — good heavens, I didn’t know there was a man with you! Why didn’t you say so?”
Bertha Cool sailed on into the room and said, “Oh, that’s just Donald. Don’t mind him.”
Frieda Tarbing went back to the bed, kicked off her slippers, pulled the covers up, and said, “Find a couple of chairs that haven’t clothes on them. Perhaps you’d better close the windows.”
Her hair was too dark to be brown. It wasn’t exactly black. Her eyes were alert, curious, and bubbling with life. She’d wakened from a sound sleep looking as fresh as though she’d just come back from a morning walk. It was a face that could get by anywhere. She said, “All right. What is it?”
I said, “My aunt has just rented an apartment at the Key West Apartments.”
“What’s your aunt’s name?”
“Mrs. Amelia Lintig.”
“Where do I come in?”
I said, “My aunt is a widow. She has a lot of money and very little sense. A man who intends to grab off all her cash is making a play for her. I want to put a stop to it.”