Lawrence Block - The Burglar Who Studied Spinoza

"Any particular reason?"

I hated to ruin her day, but what else could I do? "Just wanted to tell you you were missing a glove," I said. "Of the rubber variety, and with the palm cut out."

"Son of a bitch."

"You weren't going to say that, remember? You were going to switch to 'child of a dog' because 'son of a bitch' is sexist."

"Shit. I saw the glove was missing last night when I checked my pockets. I threw away the one but the other was gone. I thought it over and decided not to tell you. How'd you find out? What did you do, go through my garbage?"

"I always go through your garbage. It started out as a perversion and now it's a hobby."

"That's the way it always works."

"I didn't go through your garbage. You dropped it in the garden, in case you were wondering."

"I did? Jesus, they ought to put me away. How do you know this? You didn't go back there, did you? No, of course you didn't."

"No. Somebody showed me the glove."

"Who would-" Light dawned and her face fell. "Oh, no," she said. "Cops."

"Right."

"You got arrested."

"Not officially."

"What happened?"

"They let me go. My hands are bigger than yours. The glove didn't fit. And Herbert Colcannon didn't recognize me."

"Why would he recognize you? He never met you."

"Right. I'll bet you didn't read the paper at lunch."

"I read the Times this morning. Why?"

"It's complicated," I said, "but it's important. You'd better hear the whole thing."

Her phone rang a couple of times while I was going through it. She switched on the answering machine and let her callers leave messages if they wanted. We were interrupted once by a sad-eyed man wearing an obvious toupee who wanted to inquire about services and rates. If his pet resembled him, he probably had a basset hound.

When I was finished Carolyn just sat there shaking her head. "I don't know what to say," she said. "I'm sorry about the glove, Bern. I feel rotten about it."

"These things happen."

"I thought I'd be a help and look what I did. I might as well have left a trail of bread crumbs."

"The birds would have eaten them."

"Yeah. I can't believe she's dead. Wanda Flanders Colcannon. I can't believe it."

"You'd believe it if you saw the picture."

She shuddered, made a face. "Burglary's fun," she said. "But murder-"

"I know."

"I don't understand how it happened. The other burglars, the slobs, got there before we did."

"Right."

"And turned the place upside down and stole God knows what and left."

"Right."

"And then came back? Why? Don't tell me it's true about criminals returning to the scene of the crime?"

"Only to commit another crime. Remember, we didn't know the Colcannons were planning to leave Astrid. We thought they were staying overnight."

"I'm sorry about that, too."

"Don't be. You couldn't know otherwise. The point is, the other burglars probably made the same assumption. Suppose they grabbed up everything they could, took off over the rooftops, then decided they'd like to have another shot at the wall safe. They had time to pick up a torch or a drill. They might not have brought the right equipment the first time because they might not even have known about the safe, but if they had time to pick up a torch and all night to work on the safe, why not give it the old college try?"

"And then the Colcannons came home right in the middle of it?"

"Evidently."

"If they did, wouldn't the burglars make them give them the combination of the safe?"

"Probably. Unless they'd already opened it."

"If they had, why would they still be hanging around?"

"They wouldn't. But the Colcannons could have walked in the door just as the burglars were on their way out."

"Wouldn't they leave the way they came? Through the skylight?"

"You're right," I said. I frowned. "Anyway, there's a third possibility. There could have been a third set of burglars."

"A third set? How many people knew that damned dog was going to Pennsylvania to get laid?"

"Maybe these last burglars weren't real burglars," I suggested. "Maybe they were kids or junkies on the prowl, just roaming across the rooftops to see what they turned up. They'd notice the broken skylight and drop in for a look around. There were still plenty of things there to steal if you were an amateur on the prowl. Remember the radio? That would bring the price of a bag of heroin."

"There was at least one television set. Plus some stereo components on the second floor."

"See what I mean? Loads of goodies for a thief with low standards. But there wasn't a lot of money, and sometimes amateur thieves take that sort of thing personally. You know how muggers sometimes beat up people who don't have any cash on them?"

"I've heard of that."

"Well, there's a class of burglars who get the same sort of resentment. I can imagine a couple of punks dropping in through the broken skylight, picking up a radio and a portable TV, then deciding to hang around until the householders come home so they can rob them of their cash." I followed that train of thought for a minute, then dropped it and shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I may have to spend the next week looking over my shoulder for cops, but basically we're in the clear. The thing is, they're going to find the guys who did it. There'll be a lot of heat with her murdered, and Richler was right. He said somebody would blab at a bar and somebody else would overhear him. That's what usually happens and it's how most crimes get solved."

"And you think we're all right?"

"Sure. Colcannon can identify the men who killed his wife. We've already established that he can't identify me. All they've got that leads to me is a rubber glove, and if the glove doesn't fit, how can I wear it? If one of us had to drop a glove, I'm damned glad it was you."

"I wish that made me feel better."

"You've got to look on the bright side. Another thing to be glad of is that Colcannon wasn't killed. If they had known Wanda was dead they probably would have killed him, too, and then he wouldn't have been around to get me off the hook."

"I didn't think of that."

"I did." I lifted the phone from her desk. "Anyway, I'd better call Abel."

"Why?"

"To tell him we didn't kill anybody."

"He already knows that, doesn't he? It's a shame neither of us bothered to read the Post, but won't it tell what time she was killed?"

"Probably."

"Well, it was around 11:30 when we got to Abel's. I remember it was 12:07 when he checked the Piaget watch against yours. And it was after midnight when the Colcannons walked in on the burglars, so how could Abel think we did it?"

"My God," I said. "He's our alibi."

"Sure."

"I hope to God we never have to use him. Imagine trying to beat a burglary charge by insisting you were spending the time with a fence, trying to sell the things you'd already lifted from the burglary victim."

"When you put it that way, it does sound bizarre."

"I know." I began dialing. "I'll call him anyway and put him in the picture. He may not have noticed the timing and assume we killed that woman, and I wouldn't want that."

"Would he refuse to handle the coin?"

"Why?"

"If we were killers-"

The phone was ringing. I let it ring. "Abel's a fence," I said. "Not a judge. Anyway, we didn't do it and I can make him believe it. If he'd ever answer his goddamned phone."

I hung up. Carolyn frowned to herself for a moment, then said, "It's just business as usual, isn't it? Wanda's dead but nothing's changed. Abel will sell the coin in a few days or a few months and we'll get our share, same as if nothing ever happened to her."

"That's right."

"It seems wrong. I don't know why."

"We didn't kill her, Carolyn."