The Burglar Who Liked to Quote Kipling Read online

  “I’m sure you can.”

  “The elusive item. Can I assume from your advertisement that it hasn’t slipped out of your hands?”

  “It’s in front of me even as we speak.”

  “Excellent.”

  “ ‘Now if you should go to Fort Bucklow / When the moon is on the wane, / And the jackal growls while the monkey howls…’ ”

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t read it to me. Or have you committed great stretches of it to memory?”

  “No, I was reading.”

  “Oh, to prove possession? Hardly necessary, my boy. You’d scarcely have shot the woman and then left the book behind, would you? Now how are we going to manage this transaction?”

  “We could meet someplace.”

  “We could. Of course neither of us would welcome the attention of the police. I wonder…”

  “Give me a number where I can reach you at six o’clock.”

  “Why don’t I simply call you?”

  “Because I don’t know where I’ll be.”

  “I see. Well, my boy, at the risk of appearing to play them close to the vest, I’m not sure I’d care to give out this number.”

  “Any number, then.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Pick a pay phone. Give me the number and be there to answer it at six.”

  “Ah. I’ll get back to you.”

  Rrrring!

  “Hello?”

  “CHelsea 2-9419.”

  “Good.”

  “At six o’clock.”

  “Good.”

  Rrrring!

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. I believe you advertised—”

  “Passage to Fort Bucklow. That’s correct.”

  “May I speak frankly? We’re talking about a book, are we not?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you wish to purchase it?”

  “I have it for sale.”

  A pause. “I see. You actually own a copy. You have it in your possession.”

  “ ‘…The jackal growls while the monkey howls / Like a woman struck insane…’ ”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m reading from the top of page forty-two.”

  “That would hardly seem necessary.” Another pause. “This is confusing. Perhaps I should give you my name.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “It’s Demarest. Prescott Demarest, and I don’t suppose it will mean anything to you. I’m acting as agent for a wealthy collector whose name would mean something to you, but I haven’t the authority to mention it. He was recently offered a copy of this book. The offer was suddenly withdrawn. I wonder if it’s the same copy?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “The copy he was offered was represented as unique. It was our understanding that only one copy of the book exists.”

  “Then it must be the same copy.”

  “So it would seem. I don’t think you gave your name.”

  “I’m careful about my privacy, Mr. Demarest. Like your employer.”

  “I see. I’d have to consult him, of course, but if you could let me know your price?”

  “It hasn’t been set yet.”

  “There are other potential buyers?”

  “Several.”

  “I’d like to see the book. Before you offer it to anyone else. If we could arrange to meet—”

  “I can’t talk right now, Mr. Demarest. Where can I reach you this afternoon at, say, four o’clock? Will you be near a telephone?”

  “I can arrange to be.”

  “Could I have the number?”

  “I don’t see why not. Take this down. WOrth 4-1114. You did say four o’clock? I’ll expect to hear from you then.”

  “I think that’s it,” I told Carolyn, after I’d summarized the Demarest conversation for her. “I don’t think there are going to be any more calls.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I can’t, but it’s one of my stronger hunches. The first caller was foreign and he’s the one who sicced the Sikh on me. The Sikh came around Thursday afternoon, so he’s known at least that long that I had the book, but he made me read it to him over the phone.”

  “What does that prove?”

  “Beats me. Right now I’m just piling up data. Interpreting it will have to wait. The second call was from Whelkin and he wasn’t terribly interested in howling jackals or growling monkeys.”

  “I think it’s the other way around.”

  “Monkeys and jackals aren’t terribly interested in Whelkin?”

  “The jackal was growling and the monkey was howling. Not that it makes a hell of a lot of difference. What are you getting at, Bernie?”

  “Good question. Whelkin seemed to take it for granted that I killed Madeleine Porlock. That’s why he wasn’t surprised I had the book. Which means he didn’t kill her. Unless, of course, he was pretending to believe I killed her, in which case…”

  “In which case what?”

  “Damned if I know. That leaves Demarest, and there’s something refreshing about him. He was very open about his name and he didn’t have to be coaxed into supplying his phone number. What do you suppose that means?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I.” I helped myself to more coffee. “The murder’s what screws things up. If somebody hadn’t killed Madeleine Porlock I wouldn’t have a problem. Or if the police weren’t looking to hang the killing on me. I’d just sell the book to the highest bidder and spend the next two weeks in the Bahamas. One of those three killed her, Carolyn.”

  “One of the ones who just called?”

  “Uh-huh.” I looked at my watch. “We don’t have a hell of a lot of time,” I said. “I’m supposed to call them at hourly intervals, starting with Demarest at four. That gives us a couple of hours to set things up.”

  “To set what up?”

  “A trap. It’s going to be tricky, though, because I don’t know who to set it for or what to use for bait. There’s only one thing to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What I always do in time of stress,” I said. “Bribe a cop.”

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  When he came to the phone I apologized for the intrusion. “Your wife didn’t want to disturb you,” I said, “but I told her it was important.”

  “Well, I got Wake Forest and ten points,” he said. “So all I been doin’ is watch twenty bucks go down the chute.”

  “Who are they playing?”

  “University of Georgia. The Bulldogs got what they call the Junkyard Dog defense. All it means is they’re chewin’ the ass offa poor Wake Forest.” There was a long and thoughtful pause. “Who the hell,” he said, “is this?”

  “Just an old friend and enemy who needs a favor.”

  “Jesus, it’s you. Kid, I seen you step in it before, but I swear this time you got both feet smack in the middle of God’s birthday cake. Where are you callin’ from, anyway?”

  “The Slough of Despond. I need a favor, Ray.”

  “Jesus, that’s the truth. Well, you came to the right place. You want me to set up a surrender, right? First smart move you made since you iced the Porlock dame. You stay out there and it’s just a question of time before somebody tags you, and what do you want to get shot for? And the word is shoot first on you, Bern.” He clucked at me. “That wasn’t too brilliant, you know. Shootin’ a cop. The department takes a dim view.”

  “I never shot him.”

  “C’mon, kid. He was there, right? He saw you.”

  “He saw a clown with a beard and a turban. I never shot him and I never shot her either.”

  “And all you do is sell books. You told me the whole story, remember? How you’re straight as a javelin and all? Listen, you’ll be okay now. I’ll set up a surrender, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Makes me look good, no question about it, and it saves your ass. You get yourself a decent lawyer and who knows, you might even beat the whole thing in co
urt. Worst comes to worst, so you do a couple of years upstate. You done that before.”

  “Ray, I never—”

  “One thing that’s not so good, this Rockland kid’s young and feisty, you know? If it was an old-timer you shot, he’d probably take a couple of kay to roll over in court and fudge the testimony. ’Course, if it was an old-timer, he probably woulda shot you instead of waitin’ to get hisself shot in the foot. So I guess you break even on that one, Bern.”

  We went a few more rounds, me proclaiming my innocence while he told me how I could cop a plea and probably get off with writing “I won’t steal no more” one hundred times on the blackboard after school. Eventually I shifted gears and told him there was something specific I wanted from him.

  “Oh?”

  “I have three phone numbers. I want you to run them down for me.”

  “You nuts, Bernie? You know what’s involved in tracin’ a call? You gotta set up in advance, you gotta be able to reach somebody at the phone company on another line, and then you gotta keep the mark on the phone for a couple of minutes and even then they sometimes can’t make the trace work. And then if you—”

  “I already know the three numbers, Ray.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know the numbers, I want to know the locations of the phones. As if I already traced the calls successfully and I want to know where I traced them to.”

  “Oh.”

  “You could do that, couldn’t you?”

  He thought it over. “Sure,” he said, “but why should I?”

  I gave him a very good reason.

  “I don’t know,” he said, after we’d discussed my very good reason for a few minutes. “Seems to me I’m takin’ a hell of a chance.”

  “What chance? You’ll make a phone call, that’s all.”

  “Meanwhile I’m cooperatin’ with a fugitive from justice. That’s not gonna go down too good if anybody ever hears about it.”

  “Who’s going to hear?”

  “You never know. Another thing, how in the hell are you ever gonna deliver? You make it sound good, but how can you deliver? If some rookie with high marks on the pistol range whacks you out, Bern, where does that leave me?”

  “It leaves you alive. Think where it leaves me.”

  “That’s why I’m sayin’ you oughta surrender.”

  “Nobody’s going to shoot me,” I said, with perhaps a shade more confidence than I possessed. “And I’ll deliver what I promised. When did I ever let you down?”

  “Well…”

  “Ray, all you have to do is make a phone call or two. Isn’t it worth a shot? For Christ’s sake, if Wake Forest is worth a twenty-dollar investment—”

  “Don’t remind me. My money’s gurglin’ down the drain and I’m not even watchin’ it go.”

  “Look at the odds I’m giving you. All you got with Wake Forest is ten points.”

  “Yeah.” I listened while his mental wheels spun. “You ever tell anybody we had this conversation—”

  “You know me better than that, Ray.”

  “Yeah, you’re all right. Okay, gimme the numbers.”

  I gave them to him and he repeated them in turn.

  “All right,” he said. “Now gimme the number where you’re at and I’ll get back to you soon as I can.”

  “Sure,” I said. “The number here.” I was about to read it off the little disc on the telephone when Carolyn grabbed my arm and showed me a face overflowing with alarm. “Uh, I don’t think so,” I told Ray. “If it’s that easy for you to find out where a phone’s located—”

  “Bern, what kind of a guy do you think I am?”

  I let that one glide by. “Besides,” I said, “I’m on my way out the door, anyway. Best thing is if I call you back. How much time do you need?”

  “Depends what kind of cooperation I get from the phone company.”

  “Say half an hour?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good. Try me in half an hour, Bernie.”

  I cradled the receiver. Carolyn and both cats were looking at me expectantly. “A camera,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve got half an hour to get a camera. A Polaroid, actually, unless you know somebody with a darkroom, and who wants to screw around developing film? We need a Polaroid. I don’t suppose you’ve got one?”

  “No.”

  “Is there one you could borrow? I hate the idea of running out and buying one. The midtown stores are likely to be crowded and I don’t even know if there’s a camera place in the Village. There’s stores on Fourteenth Street but the stuff they sell tends to fall apart on the way home. And there’s pawnshops on Third Avenue but I hate to make the rounds over there with a price on my head. Of course you could go over there and buy one.”

  “If I knew what to buy. I’d hate to get it home and find out it doesn’t work. What do we need a camera for, anyway?”

  “To take some pictures.”

  “I never would have thought of that. It’s a shame Randy walked in when she did. She’s got one of those new Polaroids, you take the picture and it’s developed before you can let go of the shutter.”

  “Randy’s got a Polaroid?”

  “That’s what I just said. Didn’t I show you pictures of the cats last week?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, she took them. But I can’t ask her to borrow it, because she’s convinced we’re having an affair and she’d probably think I wanted us to take obscene pictures of each other or something. And she’s probably not home, anyway.”

  “Call her and see.”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t want to talk to her.”

  “Hang up if she answers.”

  “Then why call in the first place?”

  “Because if she’s not home,” I said, “we can go pick up the camera.”

  “Beautiful.” She reached for the phone, then sighed and let her hand drop. “You’re forgetting something. Remember last night? I gave her keys back.”

  “So?”

  “Huh?”

  “Who needs keys?”

  She looked at me, laughed, shook her head, “Far out,” she said, and reached for the phone.

  Randy lived in a tiny studio on the fifth floor of a squat brick apartment house on Morton Street between Seventh Avenue and Hudson. There’s an article in the New York building code requiring an elevator in every structure of seven or more stories. This one was six stories tall, and up the stairs we went.

  The locks were candy. They wouldn’t have been much trouble if I’d been limited to my drugstore tools. Now that I had my pro gear, I went through them like the Wehrmacht through Luxembourg. When the penny dropped and the final lock snicked open, I looked up at Carolyn. Her mouth was wide open and her blue eyes were larger than I’d ever seen them.

  “God,” she said. “It takes me longer than that when I’ve got the keys.”

  “Well, they’re cheap locks. And I was showing off a little. Trying to impress you.”

  “It worked. I’m impressed.”

  We were in and out quicker than Speedy Gonzales. The camera was where Carolyn thought it would be, in the bottom drawer of Randy’s dresser. It nestled in a carrying case with a shoulder strap, and an ample supply of film reposed in the case’s zippered film compartment. Carolyn hung the thing over her shoulder, I locked the locks, and we were on our way home.

  I’d told Ray I would call him in half an hour and I didn’t miss by more than a few minutes. He answered the phone himself this time. “Your friend moves around,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “The guy with the three phone numbers. He covers a lot of ground. The Rhinelander number’s a sidewalk pay phone on the corner of Seventy-fifth and Madison. The Chelsea number’s also a pay phone. It’s located in the lobby of the Gresham Hotel. That’s on Twenty-third between Fifth and Sixth.”

  “Hold on,” I said, scribbling furiously. “All right. How about the Worth number?”

  “Downtown. I m
ean way downtown, in the Wall Street area. Twelve Pine Street.”

  “Another lobby phone?”

  “Nope. An office on the fourteenth floor. A firm called Tontine Trading Corp. Bern, let’s get back to the coat, huh? You said ranch mink, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What did you say the color was?”

  “Silver-blue.”

  “And it’s full-fashioned? You’re sure of that?”

  “Positive. You can’t go wrong with this one, Ray. It’s carrying an Arvin Tannenbaum label, and that’s strictly carriage trade.”

  “When can I have it?”

  “In plenty of time for Christmas, Ray. No problem.”

  “You son of a bitch. What are you givin’ me? You haven’t got the coat.”

  “Of course not. I retired, Ray. I gave up burglary. What would I be doing with a hot coat?”

  “Then where’d the coat come from?”

  “I’m going to get it for you, Ray. After I get myself out of the jam I’m in.”

  “Suppose you don’t get out of it, Bern? Then what?”

  “Well, you better hope I do,” I said, “or else the coat’s down the same chute as your twenty-buck bet on Wake Forest.”

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  I cabbed uptown for the Pontiac. By the time I brought it downtown again Carolyn had familiarized herself with the intricacies of the Polaroid camera. She proved this by clicking the shutter at me as I came through the door. The picture popped out and commenced developing before my eyes. I looked startled, and guilty of something or other. I told Carolyn I wasn’t going to order any enlargements.

  “You’re a better model than the cats,” she said. “Ubi wouldn’t sit still and Archie kept crossing his eyes.”

  “Archie always keeps crossing his eyes.”

  “It’s part of being Burmese. Wanna take my picture?”

  “Sure.”

  She was wearing a charcoal-gray turtleneck and slate-blue corduroy jeans. For the photo she slipped on a brass-buttoned blazer and topped things off with a rakish beret. So attired, she sat on the edge of a table, crossed her legs, and grinned at the camera like an endearing waif.