The Burglar on the Prowl

Three

I went back to the bookstore and opened up, and I can't say my afternoon would have been any less exciting if I'd been, say, a paralegal at a law firm representing lenders in commercial real estate transactions. GurlyGurl must have earned more than I did that day, and I'll bet she's got medical coverage, too.

I closed up around six, brought in my bargain table from its place on the sidewalk, made sure Raffles had dried food in his food dish and fresh water in his water bowl, and that the bathroom door was ajar so he could use the toilet. I met Carolyn at the Bum Rap, and we ordered our usual scotches, hers on the rocks, mine with a splash of soda. Maxine brought them and we drank to something-crime, most likely-and worked on our drinks. Somewhere in the middle of our second round, Carolyn asked if I wanted to come over to her place for an evening in front of the television set. It was Wednesday, she pointed out, and that meantThe West Wing andLaw amp; Order, both of which would go perfectly with some take-out Chinese from Hunan Pan.

"Can't," I said.

"You've got a date?"

"The last date I can remember," I said, "is 1066."

"The Battle of Hastings?"

"If I'd been there," I said, "I'd have been on Harold's side. That's how well dating works for me."

"You could try the computer, you know."

"Yeah, right."

"And even if you don't, Bern, you'll meet someone. It's just a question of time."

"By the time I meet someone," I said, "I'll have forgotten what it is you're supposed to do with them. No, I haven't got a date tonight. I've got to go to work."

"Tonight? I thought that was Friday."

"Tonight too."

"But you're drinking, Bern."

"I'm not drinking alone, though, am I?"

She frowned. " Bern, you never have a drop of alcohol before you go out burgling. It's a firm rule of yours, and just about the only one."

"I don't play cards with men named Doc," I said, "or eat at places called Mom's."

"Or drink before you burgle."

"Or drink before I burgle," I agreed. "Three sound rules, I'd have to say."

She thought it over. "You're working tonight, but it's not going to involve breaking and entering."

"I shall not break," I said. "Neither shall I enter."

"Are you doing an appraisal?"

My antiquarian book business sometimes has me working evenings, appraising a client's library for insurance purposes or making an offer to a potential seller. But that wasn't what I had on tonight's agenda.

"It's burglary-related," I said, "and it demands a reasonably cool head, but not necessarily a sober one. I'm taking the subway up to Riverdale for a look at the Mapes estate."

"A reconnaissance mission. Do you want company?" She frowned. "But I'd have to be back by nine o'clock. This is gonna sound silly, but I really don't want to missThe West Wing."

"It doesn't sound silly. Tonight'll be boring, anyway. All I'm going to do is look at the house and walk around the neighborhood." I picked up my drink, observing its pleasing color. "Friday's when I could use company, but you're tied up with GurlyGurl."

"Wait a minute. I thought Marty was going with you."

I shook my head. "He'd be willing, but there's no way I'd want to take him along. Remember, he knows Mapes. If he's spotted in the area, if there's anything at all to connect him to the burglary-"

"And you were going to ask me to come with you? Why didn't you say something?"

"Well, as soon as I found out you had a date…"

"I'd have broken it. I can still break it, I'll just e-mail GurlyGurl and tell her something came up."

"No, don't do that. This'll be your third connection through Date-a-Dyke, and everybody knows the third time is the charm. Besides, I always feel a little guilty involving you in my crimes."

"As long as we don't get caught," she said, "you've got nothing to feel guilty about."

"That's not the way they teach it in Sunday school."

"Too bad." She frowned. "What time?"

"I really don't want you breaking your date."

"I got that part. What time are you gonna be doing it?"

"I don't know. I haven't worked that out yet. The Mapeses have tickets for the Met. There's an eight o'clock curtain, so they'll most likely leave the house around seven."

"And that's when you'll go?"

"No, that's a little early for me. I figure I'll set out around nine. They're seeingDon Giovanni, and that lasts close to four hours, and by the time they get home-"

"I can come," she said.

"But your date with GurlyGurl-"

"Didn't I tell you I'd be skipping the Bum Rap Friday? I'm meeting her in the lobby of the Algonquin at 6:15. That gives me plenty of time to run home and put on jeans and sneakers and meet you wherever you say."

"Suppose the two of you hit it off?"

"Then I'll probably be a lot better company on the way to Riverdale than if we hate each other. So?"

"I mean really hit it off," I said, "and decide to have dinner together, and then decide to, uh-"

"To do all the things the fifteen-year-olds dream up in the chat rooms. Relax, Bern. It's not gonna happen."

"But if you both really like each other-"

"If that happens," she said, "and I really hope it does, although God knows the odds are against it. But if it does, we'll have a second round of drinks, and then we'll tell each other how much we enjoyed the meeting, and we'll shake hands, with maybe a significant little squeeze at the end of the handshake. And then we'll meet again online and arrange a dinner date."

"That sounds complicated."

"It's a lot simpler to go over to the Cubby Hole and drag some drunk home with you," she allowed, "but most of the time it doesn't work and you wind up going home alone, and when you do get lucky, who do you wind up with? The kind of woman who lets herself get picked up in dyke bars, that's who."

"Oh."

"What I figured I would do, Bern, is have my drinks with GurlyGurl, and then pick up a barbecued chicken on the way home, and after I shared that with the cats I'd go over to the Cubby Hole and make a night of it. But I'd a whole lot rather go with you to Riverdale. Can you really use the company?"

"Well, I'll want to drive. The subway's fine for tonight, but when you're carrying things that don't belong to you, public transportation's not the safest way to go."

"You need me," she said firmly. "Suppose you can't find a parking place?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"We're in business," she said. "I'm your henchperson, just like old times. And of course I won't breathe a word of it, Bern, but GurlyGurl's going to notice that I have an air of mystery about me." She grinned. "So? What could it hurt?"