The Burglar on the Prowl - By Lawrence Block Page 0,36

but I’m not sure it’s what I said.”

She asked about Wally, and I recounted our conversation at the teahouse, and she said that was the whole thing about tea—the higher the quality, the subtler the taste, until eventually you were drinking the very best stuff and it had no taste whatsoever. “With No-Worry Curry,” she said, “you can damn well taste it.”

“Of course, we may not be able to taste anything again for the next few days.”

“It’s worth it,” she said. “Believe me.” She mopped her forehead with her napkin and sighed with satisfaction. “So after you finished drinking tap water in the guise of tea, you went straight to the bookstore?”

“I went home first.”

“To see how they left your apartment. And?”

“You could tell they’d been there,” I said, “but I have to admit they didn’t make that much of a mess. Maybe the new commissioner’s sending them to charm school. What’s the matter?”

“I was trying to picture Ray in charm school. He’d sit in the front row, and when the teacher walked in and introduced herself, he’d fart.”

“Funny, he always speaks highly of you.”

“The hell he does. He can’t stand me, and thank God for that, because this way I can hate him without feeling guilty. I gather they didn’t find your hiding place.”

“No, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t.”

“So everything’s okay, right? And you’re off the hook for the Rogovin murders. Not that you were ever on it, but now you’re off.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Ray dropped in to yank my chain from time to time,” I said, “but he’s apt to do that anyway. I hope they wrap up the case in a hurry, though. If only to get those creeps out of circulation.”

“That poor doorman,” she said.

“What about the Rogovins?”

“Well, them too, of course, but didn’t Ray say those might not be their real names?”

“Just because a person’s name isn’t Rogovin, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to kill them.”

She rolled her eyes. “If they were using false names,” she said, “maybe they were crooks. And no, that doesn’t make it all right to kill them either, but it might mean they were involved with the guys who broke into their apartment, co-conspirators in a dope deal or something, and they betrayed their partners and that’s what got them killed. Hey, you read the papers, Bern. That kind of thing happens all the time.”

“I guess.”

“But the doorman was just minding his business,” she said, “which consisted of minding the door, and he wound up dead. So I feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for the Rogovins, too, but not as intensely.”

“I guess I follow you.”

“Not that it matters who I feel sorry for or how sorry I feel, because it doesn’t do any of them a bit of good. Right?”

“Don’t ask me,” I said. “Ask Wally Hemphill. He’s studying martial arts, and it’s making him spiritual, so a question like that should be right up his alley.”

I hung around and we watched some TV, and then I picked up a book and read for half an hour while she booted up the computer and dealt with her e-mail and worked her way through the message boards and newsgroups she subscribed to. Then I guess she found her way over to Google, the search engine, because she was able to report that one Saul Rogovin had pitched for several minor-league baseball teams in the 1950s, while a woman with the memorable name of Syrell Rogovin Leahy had published a couple of novels, before turning to mystery fiction and adopting a pen name.

I said, “A pen name? She was born with a pen name.”

“Anyway,” she said, “I can’t find any Lyle Rogovin, and I don’t know what his wife’s name was so I can’t look for her. You want to hear the good news?”

“Sure.”

She grinned. “My date’s on for tomorrow night with GurlyGurl. She says she’s really looking forward to it.”

“I’d call that good news.”

“Me too. Bern? What about after?”

“After?”

“In Riverdale. Are we still on?”

I took a moment to think about it, because, curiously enough, I hadn’t thought about it at all. Tomorrow was Friday, and Carolyn had an early date with GurlyGurl, and Crandall Mapes and his wife had a date with Wolfgang Amadeus, and then Carolyn and I had a late date with the wall safe in their bedroom.

Since we’d set the date, I’d committed one burglary and been arrested for another, but that was all water over the dam or under the bridge, as