A. Fair - Bats Fly at Dusk

Bertha Cool tried to avoid that. She said, “I’ve actually talked with the representative of the insurance company. He told me that if you—”

“What was the licence number of the man who did hit me?” Josephine Dell interrupted.

“I don’t know,” Bertha Cool confessed.

“I thought not,” Josephine Dell said. “I don’t know what your purpose is in coming to me, Mrs. Cool, but I’m very much afraid that you’re trying to do something that isn’t for my best interests. As far as I’m concerned, I’m perfectly satisfied with the situation the way it is.”

“But you don’t want to take money from an insurance company that—”

“But, Mrs. Cool, just now you were arguing that the insurance company was rolling in money, and that it was quite all right to keep their money.”

“Well, that’s what I’d do under the circumstances,” Bertha said. “Of course, if you want to be ethical—”

“Then it’s exactly what I will do under the circumstances.”

“But you’ll go after this other insurance company?”

Josephine Dell shook her head.

“Please,” Bertha pleaded. “Let me handle it for you. I tell you I can get you some money just like that,” and Bertha snapped her fingers.

Josephine Dell smiled. “I’m afraid, Mrs. Cool, that you’re trying to— Well, I’ve heard a lot about how insurance companies try to take advantage of people. I was very much surprised to see how nice Mr. Milbran was. I suppose that the main office didn’t like the settlement he’d made with you and is trying to get me to repudiate it. Is that it?”

Bertha said wearily, “That isn’t it. It’s just like I told you. You got the licence number wrong.”

“But you can’t tell me where I made a mistake in it?”

“No.”

“Do you know even one figure in the licence number?”

“No. I don’t know anything about the man. I know the insurance company.”

“Do you know the name of the man who hit me?”

Bertha said angrily, “I don’t know a damn thing about it.”

Josephine Dell picked up her book. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cool, but I don’t think I care to discuss the matter any further. Good morning.”

“But, look, did you know Myrna Jackson had been impersonating you? Did you know—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cool. I don’t want to discuss the matter with you any further. Good morning!”

“But—”

“Good morning, Mrs. Cool.”

It was not until Wednesday morning that Bertha Cool returned to her office.

“Where,” Elsie Brand asked, “have you been?”

Bertha Cool’s sun-bronzed face twisted into a grin. She said, “I’ve been doing the one thing I’m good at.”

“What’s that?”

“Fishing.”

“You mean you were fishing all day yesterday?”

“Yes. I got so damned exasperated I darn near blew up. I decided to hell with it. I was running a blood pressure of about two hundred and eighty. I climbed in my car, drove down to the beach, rented some fishing tackle, and proceeded to enjoy myself. Do you know what happened? It’s an uncanny combination of circumstances, a coincidence that wouldn’t happen once in ten million times.”

“What?” Elsie Brand asked.

“The man who ran into Josephine Dell was drunk. Josephine Dell thought she took his licence number. She didn’t. She got the wrong licence number. She got a couple of figures juggled somewhere, but, as luck would have it, the man whose licence number she did get had also been driving his car, and he was also drunk, so drunk that he didn’t know but what he actually had hit her. Therefore, she’s in the position of being able to collect from two insurance companies, only she hasn’t sense enough to—”

“You’d better read Donald Lam’s letter first, Mrs. Cool.” Elsie Brand said.

“Was there a letter from Donald?”

“He dictated it to me.”

“To you!” Bertha Cool exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“Here at the office.”

“You mean Donald Lam was here?”

“Yes, he got a thirty-six-hour leave of absence, took a plane down here, and dropped in to see us. My, but he looked swell in his uniform, and he’s really filling out. He’s getting fit, putting on some weight, and looks hard as—”

“Why in hell,” Bertha exclaimed, “didn’t you get in touch with me?”

“I did everything I could, Mrs. Cool. You told me that you were going to Redlands. I told Donald everything that you had told me, and he started out to Redlands after you. I don’t think that you had been gone more than half an hour when Donald came in, and evidently he followed right along behind you. Do you want his letter?”

Bertha snatched the envelope out of Elsie Brand’s hand, started for her private office, turned, and snapped over her shoulder, “I don’t want to be disturbed. No telephone calls. No visitors. No clients. Nothing.”

Elsie Brand nodded.

Bertha, once more seething with indignation, ripped off the end of the sealed envelope, plumped herself down in the chair, and started reading the long letter:

Dear Bertha,

I am very sorry I missed you. I have taken a keen interest in the case from the correspondence, and when I unexpectedly received a thirty-six-hour leave, decided to come down and see what could be done. You weren’t in the office. Elsie said you had gone to Redlands where you thought Josephine Dell was or had been located. I hired a car and drove to Redlands.

Because of certain peculiar circumstances, I had already come to the conclusion that Josephine Dell might be in an out-of-town hospital. The fact that two gifts had been sent to the blind man, one a very tactful gift such as a sympathetic young woman would give to a man in his position with no note accompanying it, and the other a rather tactless gift accompanied by a note, made me think that there might be two Josephine Dells; one the real Josephine Dell, and the other an imposter.

The conversation you had with the manager of the Bluebonnet Apartments should have shown you that the girl you met who was checking out was the one the manager knew as Myrna Jackson. Recall that conversation, remember your visit the night the girl was checking out, and you’ll see the whole thing.

It didn’t take me long once I had arrived in Redlands to find Josephine Dell in the sanitarium. I arrived about forty minutes after you had left. I told Miss Dell who I was, and found her in a very hostile and suspicious frame of mind, but she was willing to talk and answer questions and let me explain.

I think you made your mistake, if you will pardon my saying so, in being a little too greedy. You kept looking at it from your angle. Because you were interested in getting a twenty-five-hundred-dollar cut from the insurance company, you kept thinking of the insurance angle; whereas it was manifestly apparent that this was really a very minor issue.

By being sympathetic and tactful, and convincing Miss Dell that I was trying to right a wrong and clear up an injustice, I was able to get her talking. Once she started talking, the whole solution became apparent.

I first convinced myself that Josephine Dell actually had been employed by Harlow Milbers in his lifetime. I asked her about the occasion when she executed the will as a witness, and she remembered it perfectly. She also remembered that the second witness to the will was not Paul Hanberry at all, but was a man by the name of Dawson who, at that time, had a photographic studio adjoining Harlow Milber’s office. The will was not made at the house at all, but was made at the office.

I got Josephine Dell to sign her name for me. The signature did not in the least agree with the signature of Josephine Dell which was appended to the will.