The Burglar Who Traded Ted Williams - By Lawrence Block Page 0,32
robbery is. It’s the taking of money or property through force or violence, or the threat of force or violence.”
“Here I am,” he said, “back at the Academy, listenin’ to a lecture.”
“Well, it’s maddening,” I said. “‘He found out he’d been robbed.’ You can’t find out you’ve been robbed because you’re aware of it while it’s going on. Somebody sticks a gun in your face and tells you to give him your money or he’ll blow your head off, that’s robbery. I never robbed anyone in my life.”
“You done, Bern?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but words mean a lot to me. How did Mr. Gilmartin discover he’d been burglarized?”
“His property was missing.”
“What kind of property?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“Humor me, Ray.”
“His baseball cards.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said. “What do you bet his mother threw them out?”
“Bernie—”
“That’s what happened to mine. I came home from college and they were gone, and when I blew up she stood there and quoted St. Paul at me. Something about putting away childish things.”
“Mr. Gilmartin had quite the collection.”
“So did I,” I remembered. “I had a ton of comic books, too. I liked the ones that taught you something about history. Crime Does Not Pay, that was my favorite.”
“A shame you never got the message.”
“As far as I could make out,” I said, “the message seemed to be that crime paid just fine until the last frame. She threw out my comic books, too. You know something? It still bothers me.”
“Bernie—”
“So I can imagine how Mr. Gilmartin must feel, and I’m not saying it was his mother who did it, but I think he ought to rule out the possibility before he goes around accusing other people. I can tell you one thing for sure, Ray. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You denyin’ that you called him last night?”
How could he possibly have known about the phone call?
“Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to confirm or deny anything,” I said slowly. “Maybe I ought to talk to my lawyer first.”
“You know,” he said, “that’s probably exactly what you ought to do. Tell you what, Bern. I’ll read you your Miranda rights, an’ then you an’ me’ll head over to Central Bookin’, an’ we’ll see about gettin’ you mugged an’ printed. Then you can give Wally Hemphill a call. If he ain’t doin’ laps around Central Park, maybe he can help you decide what to remember about last night.”
“Don’t read me my rights.”
“You remember ’em from last time, huh? It don’t matter, Bern. I gotta go by the book.”
With the marathon coming up, Wally might not be that easy to get hold of. Who else could I call, Doll Cooper?
“I guess there’s no reason not to talk,” I said slowly. “Since I didn’t do anything wrong, why not clear the air?”
He smiled, looking more like a shark than ever.
First I locked the door and hung the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign in the window. I didn’t want customers to disturb us while I straightened things out with Ray, and I could use a minute or two to get my thoughts in order.
On the one hand, it was ridiculous to get mugged and printed and thrown in a holding cell for a couple of hours for a crime that I’d had nothing to do with. At the same time, I had to be careful what I said or I’d simply be swapping the Gilmartin skillet for the Nugent bonfire.
I bought myself a few extra seconds by freshening the water in Raffles’ bowl. I was tempted to feed him again while I was at it, and I don’t suppose he would have given me an argument, but he’d already had one extra meal that day. At this rate his mousing days would soon be over.
“All right,” I told Ray. “I’m ready to talk now.”
“You sure you don’t want to take a little time to rearrange the stock on your shelves?”
I ignored that. “I called Gilmartin,” I said. “I admit it.”
“Well, hallelujah.”
“But it had nothing to do with a burglary. I really have retired, Ray, whether you’re prepared to believe it or not. Look, I’d better start at the beginning.”
“Why not?”
“Carolyn and I went out after work yesterday,” I said.
“You always do,” he said. “The Bum Rap, right?”
I nodded. “I’ve been under a little pressure lately,” I said, “and I guess I let it get to me. The long and short of it is I had more to drink than I usually do.”