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Beaming, happy she’d got it, Andy said, “Personally I prefer the word crook. I think it’s jauntier.”
“You’re crooks.”
“See? It is jauntier.”
“These appointments, late at night . . .”
“We’re out picking up things,” he said. “Or pla
“Picking up things.” A
John, grumbling, said, “Not what I was looking for.”
“But a lot of nice things,” Andy said. “I would say tonight was one of our more profitable nights, John. In a long time.”
“Still,” John said. He seemed very dissatisfied.
So she turned her attention to John, saying, “What was it you wanted that you didn’t find?”
He merely shrugged, as though the memory were too painful, but Andy said, “Tell her, John. She’ll understand. I don’t know A
“I hate telling that story, over and over,” John said. “It’s got the same ending every time.”
“Do you mind, I tell it?”
“It’ll still come out the same,” John said, “but go ahead.”
John ostentatiously looked at the blank TV screen, as though waiting for a bulletin, while Andy said, “What happened, about a week ago John and another fella went to a place that was supposed to be empty—”
“To pick up some things,” A
“That’s it. Only it wasn’t empty, after all, the householder was there, with a gun.”
“Ouch,” A
“John’s feelings exactly,” Andy said. “But that’s what we call your occupational hazard, it’s all in the game. You know. But what happened next wasn’t fair.”
John, watching the nothing on TV, growled.
Andy said, “The householder called the cops, naturally, no problem with that. But when the cops got there the householder claimed John stole a ring and was wearing it. Only it was John’s ring, that his best close personal friend, her name is May, you’d like her, she gave him. And the cops made him give it to the householder.”
“That’s mean,” A
“Very mean,” Andy agreed. “So John, after he got away from the police—”
Surprised, she said, “You escaped?”
“Yeah.” Even that memory didn’t seem to give him much pleasure.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were out on bail or something.”
“No,” Andy said, “he got away clean. But he’s been looking for the householder ever since, because he wants his ring back. It’s got sentimental value, you know.”
“Because his friend gave it to him,” A
“Because,” John said, “he made a fool outta me. I’m go
“This householder is a very rich householder,” Andy said. “I mean, he didn’t need the ring. Also, he’s got a lot of houses, including one in this very building.”
“So last night . . .” she said.
“You know the phrase,” he told her. “Last night, we cased the joint.”
“Of course.”
“And tonight we went there,” Andy said, “and we just missed the guy, he was just going out the door. So John did not get his ring.”
“Again,” John said.
“But we did get a lot of other stuff,” Andy said. “Nice stuff. As long as we were there.”
A
“Next week. He’s got a house there, too. John figures to pay him a visit.”
“And this time,” John said, “he’ll be there.”
A
“Well, it’s an apartment, is what it is,” Andy said. “In the Watergate.”
This time she felt she could show her amusement, and did. “John? You want to pull a burglary at the Watergate? A little third-rate burglary at the Watergate?”
Andy said, “I already tried that on him, and it didn’t work. John isn’t much of a history buff.”
A
“That’s it,” Andy said.
John, the recital of his tale of woe at last finished, turned away from the TV screen and said, “So if it’s okay with you, I’ll give you a call here tomorrow, sometime, whenever you say. I’ll have some questions figured out.”
“Sure,” A
“He didn’t tell me anything,” John said, “except you knew Washington.”
“Well, my marriage seems to have hit an underwater stump and sunk,” she said. “Theoretically, I’m supposed to go home on Saturday, but I’m not sure I think of it as home any more. I’m not sure what to think, to tell you the truth. I’m at kind of loose ends here.”
“A
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been in DC,” she said.
John’s head lifted. He damn near smiled. He almost looked normal. He said, “Yeah?”
Andy, with all evidence of delight, said, “A
“If I wasn’t in the way.”
“In the way? How could you be in the way?” Andy looked at John, and they gri
“Not in my way,” John said.
Andy looked back at A
A
28
Fortunately, just before they’d left the apartment in the N-Joy, Max had managed to sneak a cellular phone into the bathroom and call Miss September to tell her do not, repeat not, come out to Carrport tonight, we’ll get together soon, my little fur muffin, I’ll call the next time I’m in the northeast, do not come to Carrport. And off he went, willy-nilly, with Lutetia.
But then it wasn’t so bad. The old love in a new setting, an invigorating change of pace. And the memory of Miss September so recently on this black silk sheet—laundered since; ah, well—could only add to the spirit of the occasion.
Max was feeling so pleased with himself, and with life, and with the success of his maneuvering, and with his recent decision that TUI should replace the Carrport house with a corporate yacht, that next morning, over bran muffins and coffee, he showed Lutetia his new ring, his pride and joy, and explained its history.
She was amused and appalled, exactly the response he’d been hoping for. “Max, what a terrible person you are!” she cried, laughing at him across the breakfast table. “To treat that poor fellow that way.”
“You should have seen the expression on his face,” Max said. “It was priceless. He looked like a basset hound.”