The Burglar in the Closet - By Lawrence Block Page 0,59
You didn’t kill that nafkeh by Gramercy Park?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. And you didn’t—”
“What did you call her?”
“A nafkeh.”
“What does that mean?”
“A whore, you should pardon the expression. You didn’t kill the man either, did you?”
What man? “No, of course not,” I said. “Mrs. Hesch, could you do me a favor? Could you get Ray Kirschmann to come to the phone without letting anybody know that’s what you want? You could say you have something you just remembered about me, find some way to get him into your apartment without letting the other policemen know what’s happening.”
She could and did. It didn’t take her very long, either, and all at once I heard a familiar voice, careful, cagey, say, “Yeah?”
“Ray?”
“No names.”
“No names?”
“Where the hell are you?”
“On the phone.”
“You better tell me where. You and me, we better get together right away. You really stepped in it this time, Bernie.”
“I thought you said no names.”
“Forget what I said. You were pretty cute, hitting the dame’s apartment a second time and coming up with the loot. But you shoulda connected with me right away, Bern. I don’t know what I can do for you now.”
“You can lock up a killer, Ray.”
“That’s what I can do, all right, but I never figured you for a killer, Bern. It’s a surprise to me.”
“It would be a bigger surprise to me, Ray. As far as the jewels are concerned—”
“Yeah, well, we found ’em, Bern.”
“What?”
“Right where you left ’em. If it was just me it’s a different story, but I had to break my ass to get here along with Todras and Nyswander, let alone gettin’ here ahead of ’em, and it was Nyswander who found the stuff. A diamond bracelet and an emerald doodad and those pearls. Beautiful.”
“Just three pieces?”
“Yeah.” A pause, speculative in nature. “There was more? You got the rest stashed somewhere else, right, Bern?”
“Somebody planted those pieces, Ray.”
“Sure. Somebody’s givin’ away jewelry. Christmas is comin’ up in a few months and somebody’s got the spirit ahead of schedule.”
I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Ray, I never stole the jewels. They were planted on me. The man who stole them is the same man who killed Crystal, and he planted a handful of the jewels in my apartment, at least I guess that’s where you found them—”
“I didn’t find ’em. Nyswander found ’em and that tears it because the bastard’s incorruptible. And you bet your ass they were in your apartment, Bern, ’cause that’s where you left ’em.”
I let it pass. “The man who did it, the theft and the murders, is somebody you probably never heard of.”
“Try me.”
“He’s dangerous, Ray. He’s a killer.”
“You were gonna tell me his name.”
“Grabow.”
“Somebody I never heard of, you said.”
“Walter I. Grabow. The I stands for Ignatius, if that matters. I don’t suppose it does.”
“Funny.”
“It’s complicated, Ray. The plot’s pretty involved. I think we ought to meet somewhere, the two of us, and I could explain it to you.”
“I just bet you could.”
“Huh?”
“We better meet somewhere, that’s the truth. Bernie, you know what happened to you? Somewhere along the line you went bananas. I think it was the second murder that unhinged you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I never figured you for a killer,” he went on. “But I suppose you could do it, as cool as you are. The second killing, in your apartment and all, I guess it unhinged you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sayin’ I never heard of him. Grabow, for Christ’s sake. Sayin’ he’s dangerous. Here’s the poor sonofabitch lyin’ dead on the floor of your apartment with one of them dentist things in his heart and you’re tellin’ me he’s dangerous. Jesus, Bern. You’re the one who’s dangerous. Now how about if you tell me where you are and I’ll bring you in nice and safe so you don’t get shot by somebody who’s gun-happy? It’s the best way, believe me. You get yourself a good lawyer and you’re on the street in seven years, maybe twelve or fifteen at the outside. Is that so bad?”
He was still talking, earnest, sincere, when I cradled the receiver.
CHAPTER
Nineteen
“I’ve got him on the run now,” I said to Jillian. “He’s starting to panic. He knows I’m closing in on him and he’s scared.”
“Who, Bernie?”
“Well, that’s a good question. If I knew who he was I’d be in a lot better shape.”
“You said Grabow killed her.”
“I know.”
“But if Grabow killed her, who killed Grabow?”
“Grabow didn’t kill her.”
“But it worked out so perfectly. The counterfeiting and the