The Burglar Who Thought He Was Bogart - By Lawrence Block Page 0,76

Or there’s the subway. Or a bench in the park, on a beautiful night like this.”

“What are you talking about?”

I tilted my head to one side, took hold of my chin with my thumb and forefinger, and let the words come out of the side of my mouth. “It’s like this, sweetheart,” I said. “I’ll find a place to sleep. You don’t have to worry about me.”

After I’d settled the check she said, “Caphob, caphob. Ohmigod.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Is it conceivable? Could it possibly be?”

“Could what possibly be?”

She took my arm. “Don’t you think maybe…no, you’ll just tell me I’m out of my mind.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Okay, here’s what I was thinking. Maybe Caphob is the sled.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I know, but at least I got a laugh out of you. Bern, the only thing I really have to worry about is that you’ve seen too many movies. At any moment you’re liable to slip into character. Or do I mean out of character? Out of your own character and into his, that’s what I mean.”

“Not to worry,” I said. “You want a cab?”

“I think I’ll take the subway. It’s a nice night.”

“And you want to enjoy it way down below the pavement?”

“I mean I won’t mind the walk from the subway stop. You knew what I meant.”

“True. I want a cab, though. I have to go across town, and I don’t want to be late.” I held up a hand and a cab pulled up almost immediately. I asked Carolyn if she was sure she didn’t want it, and she said she was. I opened the door and the driver gave me a big smile, his eyes bright with recognition.

“Great to see you,” I told him. To Carolyn I said, “Get in. This cab’s for you.”

“But…”

“Come on,” I said. “How often do you get a chance to ride with a man who knows where Arbor Court is?” I held the door for her, leaned in, and urged Max to tell her about herbs. “But not about the woman and the monkey,” I added.

“Wait a minute,” Carolyn said. “What’s this about a woman and a monkey? I want to hear this.”

I closed the door and the cab pulled away. I hailed another, and asked the Vietnamese driver if he knew how to get to Seventy-fourth and Park.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find it,” he said dryly. His name was Nguyen Trang, and he spoke good English and knew the city cold. As we rode across town he told me what a great city it was. “But the fucking Cambodians are ruining it,” he said.

CHAPTER

Nineteen

Charlie Weeks was waiting in his doorway when the elevator let me out on the twelfth floor. “Ah, Mr. Thompson,” he said. “I’m so glad you could make it.” The elevator operator took this for a sign that I was welcome, and closed his door and descended.

Charlie held the door for me, followed me inside. “I thought I’d give them the same name as last time,” I told him. “It’s less confusing that way.”

“Less confusing for me as well,” he said. “I met you as Bill Thompson, and it’s hard to think of you as anyone else. What do they call you, anyway? Bernard? Bernie? Barney?”

“I’ll answer to almost anything. Bill, if you’d rather.”

“Oh, I can’t call you Bill, now that I know it’s not your name.” He looked me over carefully. “What’s your favorite animal?” he demanded.

“My favorite animal? Gee, I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

“Never?”

He made me feel I’d wasted a lifetime thinking about relativity and quantum theory and dialectical materialism when I should have been selecting a favorite animal. “Well, I guess I must have given it a little thought,” I admitted.

“What’s your favorite?”

“It depends. For eating I’d go with cows, I guess, or sheep. Tofu’s not an animal, is it? No, of course not. It’s not even a bird. Uh…”

“Not to eat.”

“Right. Well, let’s see. Different animals for different things, I’d have to say. I have a cat working for me in the store, fine mouser. If you’re going to have an animal around a bookshop I don’t see how you could do better than a cat. Rabbits are cute, but a rabbit in a bookstore would be a disaster. They, uh, gnaw things. Books, for instance. Now, for swimming in figure eights, well, you can’t beat the polar bear I was watching the other day. Eight eight eight eight eight, just like a repeating decimal, you’d have sworn