Smith put his finger-tips together, rested his hands on the front of his grey, double-breasted coat, and said, “Exactly.”
“Any leads to work on?” I asked.
“What more do you want?” Bertha asked.
“Anything I can get,” I said, my eyes on Smith.
He shook his head.
“Know anything about her, whether she had a commercial education, whether she could do any work, who her friends were, whether she had any money, whether she was fat, thin, tall, short, blonde, or brunette?”
Smith said, “No. I can’t help you on any of that.”
“What do I do when I locate her?” I asked.
“Notify me,” Bertha said.
I pocketed the fifty dollars, scraped back my chair, said, “Pleased to have met you, Mr. Smith,” and walked out.