The Burglar in the Closet - By Lawrence Block Page 0,45
I’ve been in jail, I’ve been hassled by cops, my whole life’s been spread all over the fucking newspapers, and my ex-wife is dead, and—”
“Well, it’s an ill wind, right?”
“Huh?”
“You were praying Crystal would die, and now—”
“Jesus! How can you talk like that?”
“I’ve got the guts of a burglar. When did they let you out, anyhow?”
“Couple of hours ago.”
“How did Blankenship manage that?”
“Blankenship couldn’t manage the Bad News Bears. All Blankenship wanted was for me to sit tight. I kept sitting tight and I’d have gone on sitting tight while they shaved my head and attached the electrodes. Then they’d have thrown the switch and I’d have sat even tighter.”
“They don’t do that anymore.”
“With my luck it’ll come back into style. I got rid of Blankenship. The prick wouldn’t believe I was innocent. How could he do me any good if he thought I was guilty.”
“My lawyer’s done me loads of good over the years,” I said, “and he always thought I was guilty.”
“Well, you always were, weren’t you?”
“So?”
“Well, I was innocent, Bern. I dumped Blankenship and got my own lawyer in my corner. He’s not a criminal lawyer but he knows me, and he also knows his ass from a hole in the ground, and he heard me out and told me how to open up to the cops a little, and by ten o’clock this morning they were unlocking the cell door and treating me like a human being again. It made a nice change, let me tell you. Being locked up isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Tell me about it. What did you give them?”
“Who?”
“The cops. What did you say that made them let you off the hook?”
“Nothing important. I just leveled a little, that’s all.”
“Leveled about what?”
Another pause, not as long as the first one. Not so much pensive this time as, well, evasive. Then, “Jillian says you’ve got an alibi anyway. You were at the fights.”
“You bastard, Craig.”
“I just told them about the jewels, that’s all. And about the conversation we had.”
“You told them you talked me into going after her jewels?”
“That’s not what happened, Bernie.” He spoke carefully, as if for the benefit of eavesdropping ears. “I was talking about Crystal’s jewelry, bitching about it more or less, and you seemed very interested, and of course at the time I had no idea you were a burglar, and—”
“You’re a real son of a bitch, Craig.”
“You’re really steamed, aren’t you? Sheesh, Bern, don’t you have an alibi? Wait a minute. Wait. A. Minute.”
“Craig—”
“You actually did it,” he said. Maybe he believed it, maybe he was still talking to an electronic listener, maybe he was trying to rationalize blabbing my name to the law. “You went in Thursday night. She interrupted you and you panicked and stabbed her.”
“You’re not making much sense, Craig.”
“But why would you use one of my dental scalpels? How come you just happened to have one of them in your pocket?” He was thinking his way along as he spoke and I guess he wasn’t used to the process. “Wait. A. Minute! You had the whole thing planned, burglary and murder rolled into one, with me set up for it. You must have been making a pitch for Jillian, that’s what it was, and you wanted me out of the way so you could have a clear field with her. That’s what it was.”
“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“Well, you just better start believing it. Jesus, Bernie. And then you call up here and ask to speak to her. You’re incredible, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I’ve got the guts of a burglar.”
“You can say that again.”
“I don’t particularly want to. Craig, I—”
“I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”
“Oh, grow up, Craig. I want to—”
Click!
He’d hung up on me. First he handed me to the cops and now he had gone and hung up on me. I stood there holding the dead phone and shaking my head at the inhumanity of man to man. Then I fed it another dime and tried him again. It went unanswered for eight rings. I broke the connection, put the dime back in the slot, dialed again. And got a busy signal.
When Jillian’s number didn’t answer on a second try, I wondered if I’d gotten a couple of digits switched around. I looked through my wallet for the card she’d given me but of course I hadn’t put it back after the go-round with Grabow. I checked my pockets. No luck—it was gone.