Lawrence Block - The Burglar Who Studied Spinoza

"Do anything afterwards?"

She shifted around, glanced up at me. "A little dancing," she said, "but no fooling around. What do you mean?"

"You went to the movies and then you and Jared went home and you stayed there?"

"Right. Except that we stopped on the way home for frozen yogurt. Why?"

"When did he go to sleep?"

"Around eleven, maybe a little later."

"It won't come up," I said, "but if it does, I was over at your place last night. I got there around midnight after the kid went to bed and left first thing in the morning."

"I see."

"What do you see?"

She sat up, lit another Virginia Slim. "I see why you called me this afternoon."

"You do like hell."

"Oh? You burgled somebody last night and you need an alibi, so Denise is elected. I thought you gave up stealing, you swore you gave up stealing, but what does it mean when a thief takes an oath? Good old Denise. Take her out for a meal, pour a few drinks into her, hit a few jazz clubs, then throw her a friendly fuck-"

"Cut it out."

"Why should I? Isn't that about how it goes?"

Jesus, why had I brought it up? Well enough seems to be the one thing I'm incapable of leaving alone.

I said, "You're wrong, but maybe you're too mad to listen to an explanation. I called you because we had a date for tonight." The best defense is a good offense, isn't it? "Don't blame me for your bad memory. I can't help that."

"I didn't-"

"I did give up burglary, and I'm not exactly in trouble, but someone committed a crime last night and used the type of gloves I used to use, and the police found one on the scene and think I'm involved. And I don't happen to have an alibi because I happened to spend the night alone, because who knew I was going to need an alibi? When you don't do anything criminal you don't bother to arrange an alibi in advance."

"And you just sat home in front of the television set?"

"As a matter of fact I was reading Spinoza."

"I don't suppose anyone would make that up. Except you might." She fixed those artist's eyes on me. "I don't know how much of your word to take. Where was the burglary? Oh, wait a minute. It wasn't the one I read about in the paper? That poor woman in Chelsea?"

"That's the one."

"You didn't do that, did you, Bernie?" Her eyes probed mine for a long moment. Then she took one of my hands in both of hers and looked at my fingers. "No," she said, more to herself than to me. "You're very gentle. You couldn't kill someone."

"Of course I couldn't."

"I believe you. You said they found a glove? Does that mean you're in trouble?"

"Probably not. They'll probably catch the guys who did it within a couple of days. But in the meantime I figured it wouldn't hurt to have someone back up my story, in case anybody ever leans on it."

She asked what story I'd told them and I repeated my conversation with Richler.

"You didn't tell them my name," she said. "That's good. So I won't come into it unless they give you more trouble and you need a backup."

"That's right."

"Why didn't you just tell them the truth? That you were home watching TV?"

"I tend to lie to cops."

"Oh?"

"Old habits die hard."

"I guess." She leaned over to stub out her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. In that position the curve of her pendant breast was particularly appealing, and I reached out a hand and stroked her. Bony? Gawky?

"I feel manipulated," she said lazily. "And as though I've been lied to a little."

"Maybe a very little," I conceded.

"Well, nobody's perfect."

"That's the prevailing opinion, anyway."

"And I'm a little sleepy and the least bit horny, and isn't Duke Ellington divine? Thief that you are, why don't you steal a little kiss?"

"God knows where that might lead."

"He's not the only one."

Iwoke up around seven to let her out. I have several locks on the door in addition to the police lock, and she was having a hell of a time getting them all lined up. I unlocked everything and told her I'd call her, and she said that would be nice, and we gave each other one of those near-miss kisses you exchange when one or more of you has not recently employed a toothbrush.

I locked up after her and went to the bathroom, where I employed a toothbrush and swallowed a couple of aspirin. I thought about breakfast, thought better of it, and decided to lie down for a minute to give the aspirins a chance to work.

Next thing I knew, someone was pummeling my door. I thought first that it was Denise, come to retrieve something. But it didn't sound like her. Nor did it sound like little Mrs. Hesch, my one friend in that soulless building. Mrs. Hesch drops by now and again to pour me a cup of great coffee and bitch about the building management's failure to keep the washers and dryers in good repair. But Mrs. Hesch is a little bird of a woman, not much given to pounding on one's door.

More knocking. I had my feet on the floor now and some of the fog was starting to lift from my brain. It was cops, of course, as I realized as soon as I was awake enough to be capable of things like realization. Nobody else knocks like that, as if you should have been expecting them and ought to have met them at the door.

I went to the door and asked who it was. "Well, it ain't Santy Claus," said a recognizable voice. "Open up, Bern."

"Oh, hell."

"What kind of attitude is that?"

"You picked a bad time," I said. "Why don't I meet you in the lobby in say five minutes?"

"Why don't you open the door in say ten seconds?"

"The thing is," I said, "I'm not dressed."

"So?"

"Give me a minute."

What time was it, anyway? I found my watch and learned it was a few minutes past nine, which meant I was going to be late opening up the store. I might miss selling a few three-for-a-buck books as a result, and while that's hard to take seriously when you've just stolen something with a six-figure price tag, standards must be maintained.

I got into some clothes, splashed a handful of cold water on my face, and opened a window to air the place out a little. Then I unlocked all my locks for the second time that morning, and Ray Kirschmann shook his head at them as he lumbered across my threshold.

"Look at that," he said. "Figure you got enough security devices there, Bern?"

Security devices, yet. Anybody but a cop would have called the damn things locks. "They say you can't be too careful," I said.

"That's what they say, all right. Police lock's new, isn't it? You gettin' paranoid in your old age?"

"Well, we've had a rash of burglaries in the neighborhood. Four or five right in this building."

"Even with the doorman on the job?"

"He's not exactly the Secret Service," I said. "Incidentally, I must not have heard him ring to announce you."

"I sort of told him not to take the trouble, Bern. I said I'd just make things easy and go straight up."

"Did you tell him you were Santa Claus?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because that's who's going to have to take care of him at Christmas. I'm not even putting coal in his stocking."

"Funny. What did you have, company last night?"

"You didn't get that from the doorman."

He looked pleased. "I'm a detective," he said. "What I did, I detected it. Well, look around, Bern. Ashtray full of cigarette butts and you don't smoke. Two glasses, one on each of the bedside tables. If she's hidin' in the bathroom, tell her to come join the party."

"She already went home, but I'm sure she'd appreciate the invitation."

"She's not here?"

"No. You missed her by a couple hours."

"Well, thank God for small favors."

"Huh?"

"Now I can use your bathroom."

When he emerged from it I was sipping a glass of orange juice and feeling more alert, if not altogether on top of things. "You just dropped in to use the John," I said. "Right?"