Lawrence Block - The Burglar Who liked to Quote Kipling

“It’s your intuitive brilliance that makes me love you, Bernie.”

“Here I thought it was my engaging smile. Does she like the bracelet?”

“Loves it.” She grinned up at me. “I went over there last night to return the Polaroid. She never even noticed it was missing. I gave her the bracelet as a peace offering, and I told her everything, and-”

“And you’re back together again.”

“Well, last night we were. I wouldn’t want to make any long-range projections. I’ll tell you, the way to that woman’s heart is through her wrist.”

“Whatever works.”

“Yeah. ‘You wouldn’t want to go and wear it on the East Side,’ I told her. ‘Because it’s just the least bit hot.’ ”

“Did you talk like that when you told her? Out of the side of your mouth?”

“Yeah. It really got to her. I swear the next time I buy her something I’m gonna tell her I stole it.” She sighed. “Okay, Bern. What do we do about the Blinns?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“I was gonna tell you, but-”

“I could tell you were eager to discuss it. The way you were so anxious to talk about the Blinns and all.”

“Well, I-”

“It’s cool,” I said. “Relax and eat your hummus.”

A little later she said, “Listen, Randy’s got a dance class tonight. You want to come by after work? We can have dinner in or out and then catch a movie or something.”

“I’d love to,” I said, “but tonight’s out.”

“Heavy date?”

“Not exactly.” I hesitated, then figured what the hell. “When we meet for drinks tonight,” I said, “I’ll make mine Perrier.”

She sat forward, eyes wide. “No shit. You’re going on a caper?”

“That’s not the word I’d use, but yeah, that’s about it.”

“Where?”

“ Forest Hills Gardens.”

“The same neighborhood as the last time?”

“The same house. The coat I described to Ray Kirschmann wasn’t a fantasy. I saw it Wednesday night in Elfrida Arkwright’s closet. And I promised it to Ray, and when I make promises to cops I like to keep them. So I’m going back there tonight to get it.”

“Won’t Elfrida object?”

“Elfrida’s not home. She visited her hubby in jail yesterday, and then she went home and thought things through, and then she packed a bag and took off for parts unknown. Home to Mama, maybe. Or home to Palm Beach. I guess she didn’t want to stick around for the notoriety.”

“I can dig that.” She cocked her head and there was a faraway look in her eye. “He’s got it coming,” she said. “The bastard killed his mistress and he’s not going to serve time for it. I remember when you were describing the house to me, Bern. You said you wanted to back up a truck onto the front lawn and steal everything from the chandeliers down to the rugs.”

“I had the impulse.”

“Is that what you’re gonna do?”

“No.”

“You’re just taking the coat?”

“Well…”

“You said there was jewelry, didn’t you? Maybe you can find something to replace Gert Blinn’s bracelet.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“And there’s a coin collection.”

“I remember the coin collection, Carolyn.”

“I remember the other things you mentioned. Are you going to take the Pontiac?”

“I think that might be pushing my luck.”

“You’ll steal some other car, then.”

“I suppose so.”

“Take me with you.”

“Huh?”

“Why not?” She leaned forward, laid a hand on my arm. “Why the hell not, Bern? I can help. I didn’t get in the way when we stole Randy’s Polaroid, did I?”

“We borrowed Randy’s Polaroid.”

“Bullshit. We stole it. Then we happened to give it back when we were done with it. If you look at it that way, I’m an old hand at this breaking-and-entering business. Take me along, Bern. Please? I’ll get rubber gloves and cut the palms out, I’ll pass up my after-work drink, I’ll do anything you say. Please ?”

“Jesus,” I said. “You’re… you’re an honest citizen, Carolyn. No record. A respectable position in the community.”

“I wash dogs, Bern. Big hairy deal.”

“There’s a risk.”

“Screw the risk.”

“And I always work alone, see. I never use a partner.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Well, that’s it, then. I didn’t think of it that way. I’d probably be a drag anyway, wouldn’t I? It’s okay, Bern. I don’t mind.”

“No drink after work.”

“Not a drop. I can come?”

“And you can’t ever tell a soul. Not Randy, not some future lover. Nobody.”

“My lips are sealed. Are you serious? I can come?”

I shrugged. “What the hell,” I said. “You were handy the other night. You might be useful to have around.”

A Mystery Writers of America Grand Master, LAWRENCE BLOCK is a four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe® and Shamus awards, as well as a recipient of prizes in France, Germany, and Japan. He also received the British Crime Writers’ Association’s prestigious Cartier Diamond Dagger for lifetime achievement in crime writing. The author of more than fifty books and numerous short stories, he is a devout New Yorker and enthusiastic world traveler. You can visit his website at www.lawrenceblock.com.