The Burglar Who Thought He Was Bogart - By Lawrence Block Page 0,46
“I hemmed and hawed because I didn’t want to make the identification.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t Candlemas.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No, it wasn’t. You’re right, Candlemas wasn’t my partner, but that’s not who I was talking about. I mean the man who helped me get past the doorman and elevator operator at the Boccaccio.”
“Not Captain Hoberman?”
“That’s who it was, all right, and he was my partner, or as close as I had to a partner in that little caper. He didn’t have the world’s hardest task to perform, but he did what he was supposed to, and he deserved more for his troubles than a drawer in the morgue.” I drew a breath. “It doesn’t matter if I got the line from a movie or thought it up myself. It’s just as true either way. He was my partner, and he’s dead, and it’s up to me to do something about it.”
CHAPTER
Twelve
Over breakfast she said, “I don’t know if you remember this, Bern, but just before you fell asleep you were saying something about Ilona’s disappearance being tied in with Captain Hoberman’s murder. But you wouldn’t say how, and then you passed out.”
“I remember.”
“You do?”
“Except for the part about passing out.”
“I’m surprised you remember any of it. I figured you were delirious. I was mad at you because I was sure I’d be up all night looking for a connection, but the next thing I knew it was morning and Ubi and Archie were yowling for their breakfast.”
Ubi’s a Russian Blue, Archie an extremely vocal Burmese. “I never even heard them,” I said.
“Well, you’re a sound sleeper, Bern. Plus they weren’t walking on you at the time. Anyway, the last thing you said was you’d tell me in the morning. It’s morning, so let’s hear it. Unless you weren’t serious.’
“I was serious.”
“So?”
“I can’t remember how much I already told you. Do you know about the photograph? The one Ilona lights candles to?”
“King Whatsis.”
“Vlados.”
“Whatever. You recognized him from the stamps, because your parents let you have a stamp collection when you were a kid.”
“You mean yours didn’t?”
She shook her head. “Too butch. I think they had an inkling, and they tried to steer me in the other direction. Instead of stamps, I got Story Book Dolls. You know, in the little boxes, and wearing their national costumes?”
“What did you do, break their heads off?”
“Are you kidding? I loved those dolls.”
“You did?”
“I thought they were adorable. I’d still have ’em if I had the space. I gave them to my cousin’s kids on the Island. ‘This is just a loan,’ I told them. ‘They still belong to Aunt Carolyn.’ In case I ever move to a larger apartment, but I never will, and if I did I’d have trouble getting the dolls back from those kids. They’re crazy about them, especially Jason.”
“Jason?”
“Yeah, and his father’s getting a little nervous about it. ‘Look how I turned out,’ I told him. As soon as I could I moved to the Village and tried to get a girlfriend from every country.”
“Wearing their national costumes.”
“I don’t think I ever had an Anatrurian doll,” she said, “or an Anatrurian girlfriend, either, since I never even heard of the country until you started going to the movies with Ilona. I had a couple of dolls from that part of the world, though, with peasant blouses and lots of embroidery on their skirts. Beautiful faces, too.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I’m sorry, Bern. Look, Ilona’s from Anatruria and she had a picture of the king and queen. How does that tie her in with Candlemas and Hoberman and Tiglath Whatchamacallit—”
“Rasmoulian.”
“If you say so. And Sarnoff.”
“Tsarnoff.”
“Tso? I still don’t see the connection.”
“Neither did I. It wasn’t until last night that it hit me. I was in the cab, and Max Fiddler was telling me this incredible story about a woman and her disgusting pet monkey. I didn’t tell you, did I?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m not going to. Before that he went on and on about his memory and how great it was, and maybe that planted a seed and got me thinking about memory, I don’t know. But just as we got to my apartment building, I remembered. That’s why I had him bring me back downtown again.”
“I thought you wanted to see me.”
“I did,” I said, “but I probably would have waited until morning. Or I would have gone upstairs first and put my things away and then come downtown on the subway.” I patted my pockets. “I’ve still got my picks and my flashlight,” I said. “Well,