The Burglar Who Studied Spinoza

"You could."

"And old Abel Crowe got to look over at Jersey all the time. I swear the crooks all get picture-book views. What I get from my window is a close-up of Mrs. Houlihan's washline. You know what I keep wantin' to do, Bern, is tie up Colca

"What does Rabbit know about Abel?" Oh, God, why was I calling him that?

"Rabbit?" He frowned, blinked. "I told you, he's Cagney playin' tough. I don't think he ever heard the name, but he's got a partner, right? Even if we don't know who it is."

"So?"

"What you could tell me, Bern, is would anybody try to peddle jewels and silver to Abel Crowe?"

I thought about it, or tried to look as though that was what I was doing. "Abel never took furs," I said. "Stamps, coins, jewelry-that was his field. Silver? Oh, if I found myself with a Revere tankard on my hands, Abel was one of several men I might have offered it to. But garden-variety silver? He'd have had no interest in it. Of course it might be different since silver shot up in price, but who in his right mind would need a fence for it now? You just take it to any of those places where they buy silver by weight for the melting pot. Or you let somebody with a legitimate front do it for you, if you're afraid you'll have trouble cashing a check. You don't need a fence. No, I can't see anybody taking bulk silver to Abel."

"Yeah, that's about what I figured. Who's in your bathroom, Bern?"

"Greta Garbo."

"She wanted to be alone, huh?"

"That's what she told me."

"Well, I don't figure she'd lie about somethin' like that. Anymore'n you'd lie about it. I know she's not the same woman who was here the other night. No cigarettes in the ashtrays. And this is a different perfume. I didn't smell it here before tonight."

"It's, uh, getting late, Ray."

"Uh-huh. It never does get earlier, does it? What did you get out of Colca

"I never got into it."

"He listed a couple of things that were in the safe. A watch and some jewelry. Earrings, I think it was. They didn't turn up at Margate 's. Be fu

"I don't know what you're getting at."

"I'll tell you, Bern, half the time I don't know myself. All I do is poke around and see where it gets me. Like doin' a jigsaw puzzle by trial and error, pickin' up different pieces and tryin' 'em this way an' that an' seein' what works an' what doesn't."

"It must be fascinating."

"Uh-huh. How'd you come to know Margate?"

"I didn't. Those two puzzle pieces don't fit."

"No? I coulda sworn they did. Then how'd you happen to know they call him Rabbit?"

"That's what you called him, Ray."

"I don't think so. I think I called him George."

"Right, the first time you referred to him. Then there was another time when you called him Rabbit."

He shook his head. "I still don't think so. I think I made a point of it not to call him Rabbit just to see if you would."

"Your tongue must have slipped."

"Somebody's did." He took his hat off, adjusted the brim, put it back on his head. "Well, time I got myself home. You can let the little lady out of the bathroom, Bern. This day an' age, it makes you wonder what she's got to be shy about. But that's just a cop talkin'. This line of work, you're suspicious all the time." He sighed. "Burglars and fences, they got the beautiful views and all. And the women. The only woman you'll find in my bathroom is my wife, and when I look out the window if I don't see Mrs. Houlihan's wash then what I see is Mrs. Houlihan, and between the two I'd as soon look at the laundry. It's no bargain, let me tell you."

"I can imagine."

"I figured you could. What I'd hate to see, Bern, is for you to take a fall for Colca

I didn't say anything.

"An' if I can come out with something for my troubles, maybe I can forget some of the things I happened to pick up on. Know what I mean, Bern?"

I knew what he meant.

I locked up after Ray left. Then I stood at the door for a long moment, unlocked the locks, and opened the door far enough to afford me a view of the hallway clear to the elevators. Unless he'd gotten cute enough to duck around a corner, he was gone.

So I locked up again and went over to the bathroom door and told Marilyn the coast was clear.

She had heard most of it. We talked, and by the time we were done she seemed to believe that I'd had nothing to do with the murder of Wanda Colca

I said, "What about the partner? How many guys did Rabbit work with?"

"Just one."

"Do you know who he was?"

"I don't know if I should say."

"Well, I'm not going to tell anybody. And the police probably already know who he is, if they don't have him in custody by now."

"Rabbit wouldn't fink."

"He might," I said. "Mostly people will, sooner or later. But even if Rabbit's the toughest nut since G. Gordon Liddy, the cops'll probably get the partner the same way they got Rabbit. Some neighborhood snitch'll add two and two and call the cops."

"Why do you want to know who it was?"

"Because maybe he split with Rabbit and went back alone for another try at the safe. Or with a third person."

"Oh." She put a finger to her pointed chin. Her eyes, I noted, didn't need all that makeup. They were large enough without it. "I don't think Harlan would do that," she said.

"Harlan?"

"Harlan Reese. They pulled it off together. If Harlan went back-no, I don't think he would do that, not without telling Rabbit."

"Maybe they both went back."

"You still think Rabbit killed her."

"I didn't say that. But how do you know what Harlan might have done?"

"Rabbit didn't go back a second time. I'm positive of that."

I let it go. We talked about the Third Burglars Carolyn and I had hypothesized, and as I explained the theory it seemed as difficult to pin down as the elusive Third Murderer in Macbeth. A couple of roaming vandals, skipping idly over the rooftops in search of loot, happening by chance on a smashed skylight, dropping in for criminous purposes, and committing a slight case of homicide on their way out.

Earlier, I had believed all that. Now it struck me as occupying a rung on the plausibility ladder somewhere between the Great Pumpkin and the Tooth Fairy.

Because Ray was right, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Somehow the two murders, Crowe and Colca

And if Rabbit didn't wind up in the clear, I was in trouble. Because Rabbit's sister knew I'd been at the Colca

For one thing, he might give Abel's place a really thorough toss of the sort I'd given it, and while I didn't think he'd find the money in the telephone or the rare stamps in the books, neither did I think he'd miss the watch and earrings that were hidden beneath the cigars. Once he found them he'd almost certainly order the place swept for prints again.

And then I'd be in trouble. They had already dusted for prints after Abel's body was found, which was why I hadn't encumbered myself with gloves on my recent visit, that and the fact that I, uh, hadn't thought to bring a pair with me. So my prints were now all over the damned apartment, and while that might not be evidence of homicide (since the prints hadn't been there for the first inspection), it would be very powerful evidence indeed that I'd paid Abel a visit after his death, and how was I going to explain that one?