The Burglar Who Traded Ted Williams - By Lawrence Block Page 0,35
except he called up, an’ the call got routed to me, an’ I smelled somethin’ funny.”
“Somebody got a bad burrito,” I suggested.
“He told me about the phone call,” he said, “an’ I figured any burglar’d be smart enough to make a call like that from a phone where it couldn’t be traced back to him. But you learn to check these things out, because a burglar who’s dumb enough to make that kind of call in the first place might be just stupid enough to make it from a friend’s apartment, especially if the friend in question’s a sawed-off little dyke who spends her life givin’ poodles a shave an’ a haircut.”
“It’s funny,” I said, “the way you and Carolyn never did get along. Ray, I already admitted I made the phone call, so what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is I tried out your name on Gilmartin, an’ he recognized it right away from his talk with his brother-in-law. ‘I know who that is,’ he says. ‘He’s a bookseller, an’ not a very good one, either.’ I tell him I know you, too, an’ that ain’t all you are. ‘He’s also a burglar,’ I say, ‘and there I’d have to say he’s one of the best in the business.’ ”
“Thanks for the endorsement, Ray.”
“Well, credit where credit’s due.”
“But if I’m such a high-level burglar—”
“One of the best, Bern. You always were.”
“—then why would I waste my talents on a cigar box full of baseball cards?”
“More like a shoe box, according to Gilmartin.”
“I don’t care if it was a packing crate. For God’s sake, Ray, these are little pieces of cardboard smelling of bubble gum. We’re not talking about the Elgin Marbles.”
“Marbles,” he said. “That’s what my mom got rid of, God rest her soul. I had a huge sack of ’em, too. I don’t know if I had any Elgins, but I had a real nice collection.”
“Ray—”
“Baseball cards aren’t kid stuff anymore, Bernie. Grown-ups buy ’em an’ sell ’em. They’re hot with investors these days.”
“Like Sue Grafton.”
“Does she collect ’em? I just read one book of hers, an’ it wasn’t bad. It was set on an army base durin’ war game maneuvers.”
“ ‘K’ Is for Rations.”
“Somethin’ like that, yeah.”
“I know some of the scarce cards are worth money,” I said. “There’s one famous one. Honus Wagner, right? And the card’s worth a thousand dollars, maybe more.”
“A thousand dollars.”
“In perfect shape,” I said. “If it’s all beat up from flipping it against the wall, well, it would be worth a lot less.”
He looked at the notebook again. “Honus Wagner,” he announced. “Hall of Fame shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Back in 1910 they went an’ put his picture on a card, except back then they gave ’em out in cigarette packs instead of bubble gum.”
“But he didn’t smoke,” I recalled. “And he didn’t want to have a bad influence on kids.”
“So he made ’em withdraw the card, an’ that’s why it’s so scarce today. You’re a little low, though, when you peg it at a thousand bucks.”
“Well, I was low on ‘B’ Is for Burglar, too. What’s it worth?”
“They auctioned one a couple of years back,” he said, “an’ it went for $451,000. Accordin’ to Gilmartin, it’d bring well over a million in today’s market. You honestly didn’t know that, Bernie?”
“I didn’t,” I said, “and I’m not sure I believe it. A million dollars? For a baseball card?”
“The T-206 card. There’s other Honus Wagner cards, not advertisin’ cigarettes, an’ they’re not worth anythin’ like that kind of dough.”
“And Gilmartin had a T-206?”
“No.”
“He didn’t? Then who cares? Ray—”
“But he had lots of other good cards,” he said. “He had the Topps 1952 set, with Mickey Mantle’s rookie card. An’ he had a lot of Ted Williams an’ Babe Ruth an’ Joe DiMaggio cards. I wouldn’t mind havin’ a card with Joe D on it, I got to admit it.”
“If I ever get one,” I said, “I’ll swap you straight up for the Elgin Marbles.”
“You got a deal, Bern. But the point is, Gilmartin didn’t have Honus Wagner, but what he had was probably worth a lot more than what your mother gave to the sisterhood rummage sale. He had the whole lot insured for half a million dollars.”
“Half a million dollars.”
“An’ he says it’s worth more than that. That’s why I was hopin’ you took his cards, Bernie. We could do a little business, do us both some good. An’ you took ’em all right, you poor sap, but you didn’t