The Burglar Who Liked to Quote Kipling - By Lawrence Block Page 0,34

right to say you’re close to an arrest?”

“Oh, we’ll get him,” he assured me. “A crook like Rhodenbarr’s a creature of habit. He’ll be what they call frequenting his old haunts and we’ll pick him up. Just a question of time.”

I was standing behind the door when she opened it. She moved into the room saying my name.

“Behind you,” I said, as gently as possible. She clapped her hand to her chest as if to keep her heart where it belonged.

“Jesus,” she said. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure it was you.”

“Who else would it be?”

“It could have been Randy.”

“Randy,” she said heavily. Cats appeared and threaded figure eights around her ankles. “Randy. I don’t suppose she called, did she?”

“She might have. It rang a lot but I wasn’t answering it.”

“I know you weren’t. I called twice myself, and when you didn’t answer I figured you weren’t picking up the phone, but I also figured maybe you got cabin fever and went out, and then I came home and you weren’t here and all of a sudden you were behind me. Don’t do that again, huh?”

“I won’t.”

“I had a busy day. What time is it? Almost two? I’ve been running all over the place. I found out some stuff. What’s this?”

“I want you to make a phone call for me.”

She took the sheet of paper I handed her but looked at me instead. “Don’t you want to hear what I found out?”

“In a minute. I want you to call the Times and insert the ad before they close.”

“What ad?”

“The one I just handed you. In the Personal column.”

“You got some handwriting. You should have been a doctor, did anyone ever tell you that? ‘Space available on Kipling Society charter excursion to Fort Bucklow. Interested parties call 989-5440.’ That’s my number.”

“No kidding.”

“You’re going to put my number in the paper?”

“Why not?”

“Somebody’ll read it and come here.”

“How? By crawling through the wires? The phone’s unlisted.”

“No, it’s not. This place is a sublet, Bernie, so I kept the phone listed under Nathan Aranow. He’s the guy I sublet from. It’s like having an unlisted number except there’s no extra charge for the privilege, and whenever I get a call for a Nathan Aranow I know it’s some pest trying to sell me a subscription to something I don’t want. But it’s a listed number.”

“So?”

“So the address is in the book. Nathan Aranow, 64 Arbor Court, and the telephone number.”

“So somebody could read the ad and then just go all the way through the phone book reading numbers until they came to this one, right, Carolyn?”

“Oh. You can’t get the address from the number?”

“No.”

“Oh. I hope nobody does go through the book, because Aranow’s right in the front.”

“Maybe they’ll start in the back.”

“I hope so. This ad—”

“A lot of people seem to be anxious to get their hands on this book,” I explained. “All different people, the way it looks to me. And only one of them knows I don’t have it. So if I give the impression that I do have it, maybe one or more of them will get in touch and I’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“Makes sense. Why didn’t you just place the ad yourself? Afraid somebody in the Times classified department would recognize your voice?”

“No.”

“And they’d say, ‘Aha, it’s Bernard G. Rhodenbarr the burglar, and let’s go through the telephone wires and take him into custody.’ My God, Bernie, you thought I was being paranoid about the number, and you’re afraid to make a phone call.”

“They call back,” I said.

“Huh?”

“When you place an ad with a phone number. To make sure it’s not a practical joke. And the phone was ringing constantly, and I wasn’t answering it, and I figured the Times would call to confirm the ad and how would I know it was them? Paranoia, I suppose, but it seemed easier to wait and let you make the call, although I’m beginning to wonder. You’ll place the ad for me, won’t you?”

“Sure,” she said, and the phone rang as she was reaching for it.

She picked it up, said, “Hello?” Then she said, “Listen, I can’t talk to you right now. Where are you and I’ll call you back.” Pause. “Company? No, of course not.” Pause. “I was at the shop. Oh. Well, I was in and out all day. One thing after another.” Pause. “Dammit, I can’t talk now, and—” She took the receiver from her ear and looked beseechingly at me. “She hung