The Burglar on the Prowl - By Lawrence Block Page 0,31
out and left.”
“And you think I had something to do with it.”
“I know damn well you did, Bernie.”
“Because you know me, and you know how I operate, and I have a long history of overpowering doormen and binding them with duct tape and forcing my way into apartments when the owners are home.”
“No, you’ve never done anythin’ like that in your life.”
“Of course not,” I said, “so why are you wasting my time and yours with this nonsense?”
“And mine,” Carolyn said.
“You want to go back where you belong so you can hose down a Rottweiler,” he told her, “feel free. No, it’s not your style, Bernie. An’ I don’t think for a minute that you roughed up the doorman or held a gun on the Rogovins.”
“Then why on earth—”
“What I figure you did,” he said, “what I flat out know you did, is open the safe. That box was a Mosler, an’ it took real talent to get into it, an’ if there’s one thing you’ve got a shitload of it’s talent. In one area, anyway. I don’t know if you can carry a tune or draw a straight line, but you can open any lock ever made without breakin’ a sweat. That’s what they wanted you for, an’ that’s why you were all over the neighborhood, walkin’ around as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.” He glanced over at Raffles, who was once again sunning himself in the window. “No offense,” he said. “You figure that’s how he lost his tail, Bernie? Got hisself run over by a rockin’ chair?”
“He’s a Manx,” I said. “He was born that way.”
“An’ I guess you were born that way yourself. With a talent for locks, I mean, not that you were born without a tail, although that’s probably true too, now that I come to think of it.”
“Ray,” I said, “am I missing something? Besides a tail, I mean. What I don’t get is where I come into all this. I know, you just told me, I’m the guy they brought in to open the safe. But why me?”
“They heard you were good.”
“No, what makes you think it was me?”
“I told you, Bernie. We got your pitcher.”
“My pitcher? Oh, my picture.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Right. But you said they took the tape. The security cameras were out of commission.”
“In that buildin’, yeah. But not in the rest of the neighborhood. Jesus, Bernie, you walked past an ATM machine at the Chase bank at the corner of Third and 34th. An’ you walked past a whole lot of buildin’s. You must have been walkin’ around for an hour or so, waitin’ to get the call to go over to the penthouse an’ crack the safe. What you got to remember, Bernie, is that they got these cameras all over the place. They’re not just in lobbies an’ elevators. You walk down a street, any street, you might as well go ahead an’ smile, ’cause it’s a good bet you’re on Candid Camera.”
“You say you’ve got all these pictures of me. You know, security camera pictures always tend to be blurry and out of focus. How do you even know it’s me?”
“You want me to tell you what you were wearin’? Khakis an’ a blue blazer. An’ a polo shirt, but not striped like the one you got on today. It was a solid color shirt, but don’t ask me the color, ’cause that I couldn’t tell you.”
“You’ve got pictures of me,” I said, “but all I’m doing is walking around, and the last I heard that was still legal. The pictures don’t establish that I was doing anything wrong.”
“They didn’t,” he said. “Not until you opened your mouth and lies started pourin’ out of it.”
“Huh?”
“I asked you where you were last night,” he said, “an’ you said you were home, watchin’ TV an’ goin’ to bed early an’ never stirrin’ except to pee. Right in your own bathroom, you said. You recall sayin’ somethin’ along those lines?”
“I wasn’t under oath,” I said, “so it’s not perjury, but you’re right. I lied.”
“Now tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
“The reason I lied,” I lied, “is I was ashamed to admit where I was.” I turned to Carolyn. “Because you’re here,” I said.
“What’s Shorty here got to do with it?”
Carolyn gave him a look. I said, “Oh, hell. There’s a woman I’ve been seeing, and it’s a sick, hopeless relationship, and I swore to Carolyn that I wasn’t going to