The Burglar in the Closet - By Lawrence Block Page 0,35
my being a burglar. I never really talk much about my work and we haven’t been going together that long. You’ve been seeing other men besides me, see, although you haven’t let me know that.”
“Bernie, I—”
“Pay attention. You can answer the bell in a minute. They’re downstairs and they’re not about to kick the door in. You’re Craig’s girlfriend, it might even be a good idea to volunteer that, but you like to play the field a bit and neither Craig nor I knows you’re seeing the other one. You’d better use the intercom now. I’ll have time to get out before any New York cop can drag his ass up three flights of stairs.”
She walked to the wall, depressed the switch to activate the intercom. “Yes?” she said. “Who is it?”
“Police officers.”
She looked at me. I nodded and she poked the buzzer to let them in. I went to the door, opened it, put one foot out into the hallway. “It’s official,” I said, “you’ve been harboring a fugitive, but you didn’t know it so it’s not your fault. For that matter, nobody told me I was a fugitive. I lied to the cops about my line of work, but why not, since I didn’t want you to know about it? I think we’ll both be all right. I’ll get in touch with you later, either here or at the office. Don’t forget to go through the files.”
“Bernie—”
“No time,” I said, and blew her a kiss and scampered.
I had ample time to climb one flight of stairs while Todras and Nyswander were climbing three. I loitered on the top step and listened while their feet led them to Jillian’s door. They knocked. The door opened. They entered. The door closed. I gave them a minute to get comfortable, then descended a flight and stood beside the door, listening. I heard voices but couldn’t make them out. I could tell there were two of them, though, and I’d heard both pairs of feet on the stairs, and I didn’t want to hang around until one of them got psychic and yanked the door open. I went down three more flights of stairs and took my tie out of my pocket and put it right back when I saw how wrinkled it was.
The sun seemed brighter than it had to be. I blinked at it, momentarily uncertain, and a voice said, “If it ain’t my old pal Bernie.”
Ray Kirschmann, the best cop money can buy, stood with his abundant backside resting upon the fender of a blue-and-white police cruiser. He had a lazy smile on his broad face. A smile of insupportable smugness.
I said, “Oh, hell, Ray. Long time no see.”
“Been ages, hasn’t it?” He drew the passenger door open, nodded at the seat. “Hop in,” he said. “We’ll have us a ride on a beautiful morning like this. It’s no kind of a day to be inside, like in a cell or anything like that. Hop in, Bern.”
I hopped.
CHAPTER
Ten
Every block in New York sports several fire hydrants spaced at intervals along the sidewalk. These have been installed so that the police won’t have to circle the block looking for a parking space. Ray pulled away from one of them and told me I’d just missed a couple of friends of his. “A couple of fellows in plainclothes,” he said. “Myself, I’m happy wearin’ the uniform. These two, you musta missed each other by a whisker. Maybe they were in the elevator while you was on the stairs.”
“There’s no elevator.”
“That a fact? Just plain bad luck you didn’t run into them, Bernie. But I guess you made their acquaintance yesterday. Here they missed you, and now they’ll come downstairs and find that I took a powder my own self. Not that they’ll be sorry to see me gone. They come here on their own, you know, in their own blue-and-white, and I tagged along and I had the feelin’ they wanted to tell me to get lost. You take a cop and put a business suit on him and he develops an attitude, you know what I mean? All of a sudden he thinks he’s a member of the human race and not your ordinary flatfoot. You want a smoke, Bernie?”
“I quit a few years ago.”
“Good for you. That’s strength of character is what it is. I’d quit myself if I had the willpower. What’s all this crap about your aunt teaching school in the Bronx?”
“Well, you know how it is,