Lawrence Block - The Burglar who thought he was Bogart

“Well, the movies were pretty good,” I said. “The first one was made in 1937, and-”

“I’m not talking about the movies, Bern. How’d it go with Ilona?”

“Oh,” I said. “It went all right.”

“All right?”

“It went fine.”

She went on studying me, then broke into a smile that lit up her whole face.

“Cut it out,” I said.

“Cut what out? I didn’t say a word.”

“Well, neither did I, so what the hell are you grinning about?”

“Beats me. Where’d you wind up, Bern? Your place or hers?”

I stared at her, stubbornly silent, and she stared right back at me. “Hers,” I said finally.

“And?”

“And what? I had a good time, okay? You happy now?”

“I’m happy for you. She’s beautiful, Bern.”

“I know.”

“And obviously crazy about you.”

“I don’t know about that part,” I said. “And what makes you so sure of it? For that matter, how come you’re telling me she’s beautiful? Are you just feeding my own words back to me?”

She pursed her lips and whistled soundlessly, like Ilona blowing out cigarette smoke. “It was just the sheerest coincidence,” she said.

“What was? I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and already I don’t believe you.”

“I just happened to be in front of the Musette,” she said, “when the show let out last night.”

“You just happened to be there.”

“Everybody’s gotta be someplace, Bern.” Raffles had long since abandoned the paper I’d tossed him, and was now rubbing himself against Carolyn’s ankle, in the manner of his tribe. “Hey, look what he’s doing. Did you forget to feed him this morning, Bern?”

“He ate enough to glut a python,” I said. “Quit changing the subject. How did you happen to be there last night?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” she said. “Sue Grafton’s got a new book out, and I went up to Murder Ink to pick it up.”

“You went all the way up there for it?”

“Partners and Crime was sold out, and Three Lives didn’t have it in yet. So I hopped on the subway.”

“Murder Ink’s at Broadway and Ninety-second.”

“I know, Bern. I was just there last night.”

“That’s twenty-some blocks from the theater.”

“Well, I hadn’t had dinner.”

“So?”

“So I was headed downtown, looking for a restaurant, and nothing appealed to me. I finally settled for a coffee shop around Seventy-ninth Street. You know, I think we may have been overdoing it with ethnic foods lately. I sat in a booth and had a bacon cheeseburger and french fries and cole slaw and a piece of apple pie for dessert, and I drank two cups of ordinary American coffee with cream and sugar, and the whole meal struck me as wildly exotic.”

“And after your meal-”

“I felt stuffed, so I figured I’d walk a few blocks.”

“And the next thing you knew you were in front of the Musette Theater.”

“All right, so I planned it. Is that a crime?”

“No.”

“I got there a few minutes before the show let out and stood where I could keep an eye on the entrance. For a minute there I thought I’d missed you. The two of you were just about the last people out.”

“We like to stay and watch the credits.”

“She’s a real beauty, Bern. And the way she was holding your arm, and the looks she was giving you. Forget Humphrey Bogart. I figured you were in like Flynn.”

“How long were you spying on us, anyway?”

“I don’t see why you have to call it spying,” she said. “I was just acting on some perfectly justifiable friendly concern. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said. “If I lurked around a dyke bar like that I’d get arrested.”

“Not true, Bern. Beat up, maybe, but not arrested. Anyway, I didn’t lurk for very long. As soon as the two of you went across the street for coffee I went home.”

“And read the new Sue Grafton.”

She shook her head. “I’m saving it until my tooth is filled. I lost the filling toward the end of the cheeseburger. I think I must have swallowed it. It won’t poison me, will it?”

“It’s probably better for you than the cheeseburger.”

“That’s what I figured. I read the blurbs on the new book, and I think it’s going to be great, but I’ll wait and read it over the weekend. In the meantime I’m rereading one of her early books. I’m about halfway through it. It’s the one with the horticultural background.”

“I don’t think I read it.”

“Really? I thought you read them all. This one’s about the Chinese landscape architect who gets strangled with his own pigtail.”

“I’d remember that. I must have missed it. What’s the title?”

“ ‘Q’ Is for Gardens. I’ll lend it to you when I’m done with it. I gotta run, I got a springer spaniel coming any minute for a wash and set. Did she cook you breakfast or did you take her out?”

“I didn’t stay over.”

“Probably a good move. You know me, one flop in the feathers and I want us to go pick out drapes together. You called her, though, right?”

“No answer. I don’t think she spends much time around the apartment. If you were ever there you’d know why.”

“What’s on the program for tonight? More Bogart?”

“What else?”

“So afterward you’ll take her to your place.”

“Maybe.”

“Bernie? Look at me, Bern. Are you in love?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Does that mean yes?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think it does.”

The rest of the morning passed without incident. With Carolyn off getting a tooth filled, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of lunch. I ducked around the corner and ate a slice of pizza standing up (I was standing up, the pizza was essentially horizontal). I wasn’t away from the store for more than ten minutes, but that was long enough for Ray Kirschmann to make his appearance. I found him leaning against my bargain table, thumbing a Fodor guide to West Africa.

“Some security system you got here,” he said. “I wasn’t as honest as the day is warm, I coulda walked off with all of these here.”

“You’d get yourself a hernia before you hurt me much financially,” I pointed out. “The books on that table are three for a dollar.”

“Even this here?”

“It’s four years old.”

“You got books a lot older than that an’ charge ten, twenty bucks for ’em. Sometimes more’n that.”

“What you’ve got is a guidebook for travelers,” I explained, “and they don’t improve with age. They actually depreciate pretty rapidly, because people planning trips generally want up-to-date information. How would you like to fly all the way to Gabon and find out your hotel went out of business a year ago?”

“You’d never get me there in the first place,” he said. “You gotta be crazy to go someplace like that. You’re layin’ on the beach there, drinkin’ somethin’ with fruit in it, and the next thing you know they’re havin’ theirselves a cootie tah.”

“A what?”

“You know, where they overthrow the government. Before you know it you’re the main course at a cannibal banquet.” He tossed Fodor back on my table, where it glanced off Vol. II of The Life and Letters of Hippolyte Taine -God alone could tell you what had become of Vols. I and III-and skidded the length of the table before dropping to the pavement.

“Don’t know my own strength,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

I had the door unlocked and stood there holding it open, gazing pointedly at the book on the sidewalk. After a moment he went over, bent down, grunted, straightened up, and placed the book on the table.