Lawrence Block - The Burglar who thought he was Bogart

“She could tell her husband she’s taking a course in Crockpot Macramé at the New School.”

“Seven days a week?”

“Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t have to tell him anything, maybe he works from seven to midnight hosting a talk show on an FM station. ‘All right, callers, the topic tonight is Wives Who Don’t Cheat and the Men They Don’t Cheat With. Let’s see those boards light up now!’” She frowned. “The thing is,” she said, “she’s doing things sort of ass-backward for a married woman. The ones I’ve been fool enough to get involved with just wanted to go to bed. The last thing they wanted was to go out in public, let alone do a little smooching on a street corner.”

“I don’t think she’s married.”

“Well, what’s her story?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem in any great rush to tell it. We had four or five dates before she got around to telling me where she came from.”

“I remember. For a while the best you could do was narrow it down to Europe.”

“It’s not as though I didn’t ask her. It’s not an impolite question, is it? ‘Where are you from?’ I mean, that’s not like asking to see her tax return or hear her sexual history, is it?”

“Maybe it’s a sensitive subject in Anatruria.”

“Maybe.”

“You want to know something, Bern? I never heard of Anatruria.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. Most people never heard of it. See, it never used to be a country, and it still isn’t. I heard of it, but that’s because I collected stamps when I was a kid.”

“It never used to be a country, and it still isn’t, but they issued stamps?”

“Around the end of the First World War,” I said. “When the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires broke up, a lot of countries declared themselves independent for about fifteen minutes, and some of them issued stamps and provisional currency to increase their credibility. The first Anatrurian stamps were a series of overprints of Turkish stamps, and they’re pretty rare, but they’re not worth all that much because overprinted stamps have always been easy to counterfeit. Then there was an actual series of Anatrurian stamps printed up during the winter of 1920-21, with the head of Vlados I in a little circle in the upper right corner and a different scene on each stamp in the series. Churches and public buildings and scenic views-you know the kind of things they put on stamps. They were engraved and printed in Budapest.”

“Wait a minute. Budapest ’s in Anatruria?”

“No, it’s in Hungary.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“The stamps never got to Anatruria,” I explained. “As a matter of fact, the only government independent Anatruria ever had was a government in exile. A little band of patriots scattered all over Eastern Europe proclaimed Anatrurian independence. Then they tried lobbying the League of Nations, but they didn’t get anywhere. They even put Woodrow Wilson on one of their stamps, for all the good it did them.”

“Why Woodrow Wilson? Did he have relatives in Anatruria?”

“He was big on self-determination of nations. But by the time they got the stamps printed, Warren G. Harding was president. I doubt the Anatrurians ever heard of him, and I’d be willing to bet he never heard of Anatruria.”

“Well, neither did I. Where is it, exactly?”

“You know where Bulgaria and Romania and Yugoslavia come together?”

“Sort of. Except there’s no more Yugoslavia, Bern. It’s five different countries now.”

“Well, part of one of them is part of Anatruria, and the same thing goes for Bulgaria and Romania. Anyway, that’s where Ilona was born, but she hasn’t been home in quite a while. She lived in Budapest for a year or two, or maybe it was Bucharest.”

“Maybe it was both of them.”

“Maybe. And she was in Prague, which used to be in Czechoslovakia.”

“Used to be? Where’d it go?”

“There’s no more Czechoslovakia. There’s Slovakia and there’s the Czech Republic.”

“Oh, right. You know what’s weird? At the same time that Europe is deciding to be one big country, Yugoslavia ’s deciding to be five little countries all by itself. Now you’ve got the former Yugoslavia and the former Soviet Union and the former Czechoslovakia. It’s like Formerly Joe’s. Remember Formerly Joe’s?”

“Vividly.”

“Oh, right, we didn’t like our meal, did we? I guess lots of people felt the same way, because they didn’t last long. There was this restaurant called Joe’s at the corner of West Fourth and West Tenth, and it was there for years, and then it was out of business for years. It just sat there vacant.”

“I know.”

“So then, when a new restaurant finally moved in, they called it Formerly Joe’s. And now it’s gone, in fact it’s been gone for a long time, and when somebody finally takes it over what are they gonna call it? Formerly Formerly Joe’s?”

“Or Two Guys From Anatruria.”

“I guess anything’s possible. You seeing her tonight, Bern?”

“Yes.”

“And seeing more Bogart movies?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long’s this festival going on, anyway?”

“Another ten or twelve days.”

“You’re kidding.” She looked at me. “You’re not kidding. How many movies did the guy make, anyway?”

“Seventy-five, but they didn’t manage to get them all.”

“What a shame. How long are you gonna stay with it, Bern?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m kind of enjoying it. The first week there were times when I was wondering what I was doing there, but then it became this magical other world that I would slip into for a few hours every night.” I shrugged. “After all,” I said, “it is Bogart. He’s always interesting to watch even in some dog of a movie you never heard of. And when it’s a picture I’ve seen a dozen times, well, who can get tired of Casablanca or The Maltese Falcon? They get better every time you see them.”

“What’s the program for tonight?”

“The Caine Mutiny,” I said, “and Swing Your Lady. ”

“I remember The Caine Mutiny. He was great in that, playing with those marbles.”

“Ball bearings, I think they were.”

“I’ll take your word for it. What’s the other one? Swing Your Partner? ”

“Swing Your Lady.”

“I never heard of it.”

“Nobody did. Bogart’s a wrestling promoter in the Ozarks.”

“You’re making this up.”

“I am not. According to the program, Reagan has a small part.”

“Reagan? Ronald Reagan?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, at least it’s only a small part. Wrestling in the Ozarks. And square dancing, I’ll bet. Why else would they call it Swing Your Lady? ”

“You’re probably right.”

“Wrestling and square dancing and Ronald Reagan. You know what, Bern? I bet you get lucky tonight. Any woman who’d make a man go through all that has got to reward him for it.”

“I don’t know, Carolyn.”

“I do,” she said. “Better pack your toothbrush, Bern. Tonight’s your lucky night.”

And, after Bogart had followed his electrifying portrayal of Captain Queeg with a stint as barnstorming wrestling promoter Ed Hatch, and after his wrestler had quit the business to marry a lady blacksmith and spend the rest of his life shoeing horses, we’d gone across the street for a quick espresso and a little holding of hands and trading of long looks. Then we went outside and I hailed her a cab, and when I held the door for her she came into my arms for a kiss.

“Bear-naaard,” she murmured. “Come with me.”

“Come with you?”

“Come home with me. Now.”