Lawrence Block - Enough Rope

“She’s not happy about it, I’ll say that much. What else? Her full-length mink’s in storage so they didn’t get that, but she had some other furs in the closet that I don’t know why she didn’t put in storage, and of course they’re gone now. They left the TV-stereo unit. You know the set, it’s a big console unit, and for once I’m glad I bought it that way instead of picking up separate components, because evidently they decided it would be too much of a hassle to cart it out. But they took a couple of radios and a typewriter and little odds and ends like that.”

“Hardly worth the trouble, it sounds like to me. What can you get for a secondhand radio?”

“Not much, I wouldn’t think. Isn’t that our turn coming up?”

“Uh-huh. So the jewelry was the main thing, right?”

I nodded. “They took a lot of stuff. They took one of my sport jackets, can you imagine that? I guess the son of a bitch saw something he liked and it was the right size for him.”

“That’s amazing. Which jacket?”

“The Black Watch plaid. The damn thing’s three years old and I was frankly a little sick of it, but I’m positive it was hanging in the closet when we left, so I guess some penny-ante burglar doesn’t care if he’s wearing the latest styles or not.”

“Amazing. You call the police?”

“I had no choice, Pete. I’ll tell you something, the worst part of all this isn’t what you lose when they rob you. It’s the ordeal you wind up putting yourself through. We walked in there tired out from all that driving and the place looked like a cyclone hit it, and I called the fellow who takes care of my insurance and he told me I had to report the burglary to the police. He said nothing would be recovered but unless the incident’s officially reported the company won’t honor a claim. So we had these two plainclothes bulls over for half the afternoon, and Roz was shaky anyway and the cops knew they had to go through the motions but also knew it was a waste of time, and they’re asking me like do I have the serial number from the typewriter, and who keeps track of that crap?”

“Nobody.”

“Of course not. Even if you wrote it down you’d never remember where you put it.”

“Or the crooks would steal the notebook along with the typewriter.”

“Exactly. So they’re asking me this garbage because it’s their job, and in spite of myself I’m feeling guilty that I didn’t know the serial number, and they’re asking about the bill of sale for this thing or that thing, and who’s got copies of things like that? Watch out, there’s a kid on a bicycle.”

“I see him, Eddie. You’re jumpy as hell, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know not to run over kids on bicycles and I knew it was our turn coming up. It’s not as if I never drove a truck before.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Sorry,” I said. “I am jumpy as hell and I’m sorry. Those cops, I finally told them enough was enough, and I poured drinks all around and everybody relaxed. They said off the record I could forget about seeing any of the stuff again, which I already knew, and I let them finish their drinks and got them the hell out of there. And I took Roz upstairs and got a handful of Valium into her.”

“Not a whole handful, I hope.”

“Maybe two pills.”

“That’s better.”

“And I had one more drink for myself and then I put the plug in the jug because I didn’t want to get loopy, not going out tonight. I almost called you and canceled out and opened the bottle again, but I figured that would be stupid.”

“You sure?” He looked at me. “I could turn the car around, you know. There’s other nights.”

“Keep driving.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely. But can you imagine guys like that?”

“You mean the cops?”

“No, I don’t mean the cops. They’re just doing their job. I mean the guys who ripped us off.”

He laughed. “Maybe they’re just doing their jobs, too, Eddie.”

“That’s some job, robbing people’s homes. Can you imagine doing that?”

“No.”

“Roz kept saying how she’s always felt so safe and secure where we are, a good neighborhood and all, and how can she feel that way now? Well, that’s nonsense, she’ll get used to it again, but I know what she means.”

“It’s such an invasion of privacy.”

“That’s exactly what it is. People in her living space, you know what I mean? People in her house, getting dirt on her carpets, going through her things, sticking their noses into her private life. An invasion of privacy, that’s exactly what it is. And for what, will you tell me that?”

“For ten cents on the dollar, and that’s if they’re lucky.”

“If they get that much it’s a lot. If they net two grand out of everything they took off us it’s a hell of a lot, and in the process they gave us a bad day and put us to a lot of trouble and I don’t know what it’s going to cost to replace everything and clean up the mess they made. Going into people’s houses like that, and that’s nothing — suppose we were home?”

“Well, they probably were careful to make sure you weren’t.”

“Yeah, but if they’re sloppy enough to rob us in the first place, how careful do they figure to be?”

We kicked it around some more. By the time we got to the gate I was feeling a whole lot calmer. I guess it helped to talk about it, and Pete was always easy to talk to.

He pulled the truck to a stop and I got out and opened the padlock and unfastened the chain, then swung the gate open. After the truck was through I closed the gate and locked it again. Then I climbed back into the truck and Pete cut across the lot to the warehouse.

“No trouble with the key, Eddie?”

“None.”

“Good. What’d they do at your place, kick the door in?”

“Forced the lock with a crowbar, something like that.”

“Slobs, it sounds like.”

“Yeah, that’s what they were. Slobs.”

He maneuvered the truck, parking it with its back doors up against the loading dock. I climbed down and opened them, and while I was standing there the automatic door on the loading dock swung up. I had a bad second or two then, as if there’d be men with guns up on the dock, but of course it was empty. A second or two later the night watchman appeared through a door a dozen yards to our left. He gave us a wave, then took a drink of something from a brown paper bag.

Pete got out of the truck and we went over to the old man. “Thought I’d run the door open for you,” he said. “Have a little something?”

He offered the paper bag to us. We declined without asking what it was and he took another little sip for himself. “You boys’ll treat me right,” he said. “Won’t you, now?”

“No worries, Pops.”

“You didn’t have no trouble with that key, did you?”

“On the gate? No, it was a perfect fit.”

“Now when you go out you’ll break the chain so they won’t know you had no key, right?”

“Takes too much time, Pops. Nobody’s gonna suspect you and if they do they can’t prove anything.”

“They’re gonna ask me questions,” he whined.

“That’s how you’ll be earning your money. And they’ll ask you questions whatever we do with the lock.”

He wasn’t crazy about it, but another sip from his bottle eased his mind some. “Guess you know what you’re doing,” he said. “Now be sure and tie me tight but not too tight, if you know what I mean. And I don’t know about tape on my mouth.”

“Well, that’s up to you, Pops.”

He decided on the tape after all. Pete got a roll of it from the truck, along with a coil of clothesline, and the three of us went inside. While Pete tied the old fellow up I got started stacking the color TVs in the truck. I made sure I arranged them compactly because I wanted to fit in as many as the truck would hold. It’s not going to be a cinch, replacing all the jewelry Roz lost.