either side of a table and we drank our coffee out of Rod’s chipped and unmatched cups. It was good coffee.
We talked and talked and talked, and I fell into the role so completely that I became quite comfortable in it. Perhaps it was the influence of the environment, perhaps the apartment was making an actor out of me. Rod had said the landlord liked actors. Perhaps the whole building swarmed with them, perhaps it was something in the walls and woodwork….
At any rate I was a perfect Roger Armitage, the new boy in town, and she was the lady I’d met under cute if clumsy circumstances, and before too long I found myself trying to figure out an offhand way to ask her just how well she knew Rod, and just what sort of part he played in her life, and, uh, shucks Ma’am—
But what the hell did it matter? Whatever future our relationship had was largely in the past. As soon as she left I’d have to think about clearing out myself. This was not a stupid lady, and sooner or later she would figure out just who I was, and when that happened it would behoove me to be somewhere else.
And then she was saying, “You know, I was trying so hard to take care of those plants and get out before I woke you, and actually what I should have done was just leave right away because you would have taken care of the plants yourself, but I didn’t think of that, and you know something? I’m glad I didn’t. I’m really enjoying this conversation.”
“So am I, Ruth.”
“You’re easy to talk to. Usually I have trouble talking to people. Especially to men.”
“It’s hard to believe you’re not at ease with everyone.”
“What a nice thing to say!” Her eyes—I’d learned by now that they ranged from blue to green, varying either with her mood or with the way the light hit them—her eyes, as I was saying way back at the beginning of this sentence, gazed shyly up at me from beneath lowered lashes. “It’s turned into a nice day, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has.”
“It’s a little chilly out but the sky is clear. I thought about picking up some sweet rolls but I didn’t know whether you’d want anything besides just coffee.”
“Just coffee is fine. And this is good coffee.”
“Another cup? Here, I’ll get it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“What should I call you, Bernie or Bernard?”
“Whichever you like.”
“I think I’ll call you Bernie.”
“Most people do,” I said. “Oh, sweet suffering Jesus,” I said.
“It’s all right, Bernie.”
“God in Heaven.”
“It’s all right.” She leaned across the table toward me, a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, and she placed a small soft-palmed hand atop mine. “There’s nothing to worry about,” she said.
“There isn’t?”
“Of course not. I know you didn’t kill anybody. I’m an extremely intuitive person. If I hadn’t been pretty sure you were innocent I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of knocking the plant over in the first place, and—”
“You knocked it over on purpose?”
“Uh-huh. The stand, anyway. I picked up the plant itself so nothing would happen to it, and then I kicked the stand so that it bounced off the wall and fell over.”
“Then you knew all along.”
“Well, your name’s all over the papers, Bernie. And it’s also all over your driver’s license and the other papers in your wallet. I went through your pockets while you were sleeping. You’re one of the soundest sleepers I’ve come across.”
“Do you come across that many?”
Incredibly enough, the minx blushed. “Not all that many, no. Where was I?”
“Going through my pockets.”
“Yes. I thought I recognized you. There was a photo in the Times this morning. It’s not a very good likeness. Do they really cut a person’s hair that short when they send him to prison?”
“Ever since Samson pushed the temple down. They’re not taking any chances.”
“I think it’s barbaric of them. Anyway, the minute I looked at you I knew you couldn’t have murdered that Flaxford person. You’re not a murderer.” She frowned a little. “But I guess you’re a genuine burglar, aren’t you?”
“It does look that way.”
“It certainly does, doesn’t it? Do you really know Rod?”
“Not terribly well. We’ve played poker together a few times.”
“But he doesn’t know what you do for a living, does he? And how come he gave you his keys? Oh, I’m being dull-witted now. What would you need with keys? I saw your keys in your pants pocket, and all those