The Burglar Who Met Fredric Brown

19

“Cruise ships,” she said, in the cab heading downtown. “I think I’d be all the time waiting to get somewhere.”

“For a while. You’d be waiting to get home, and then after a few weeks your mind would hit the Reset button, and you’d realize that where you were was home.”

“In the middle of the ocean.”

“In a well-appointed stateroom on a high deck. You have to admit it sounds more inviting than Assisted Living.”

“God’s waiting room,” she said. “Though given the demographics, you would probably get a similar vibe on a cruise ship. This next cruise he’s taking, on the Somethingdam—”

“To Fort Lauderdale?”

“No, the long one, the one that takes two months to circle South America. Say you’ve got two thousand people on board, not counting the crew, and what do you suppose the median age is?”

“Somewhere between Medicare and Dead.”

“That many old people on a long cruise, at least a few of them are sure to be in the frozen food locker by the time the Doubledam gets back to Lauderdale.”

“Or buried at sea, the way Abel wants to go.”

She frowned. “You know, I’m positive they quit doing that years ago. I read something, don’t ask me where. For ages they had to deep six anybody who died at sea, for health reasons, but refrigeration made that unnecessary, and it’s not really the frozen food locker, there’s a specific space designed for the purpose.”

“But the ocean floor is still an option, according to Abel. He’s witnessed a couple of burials at sea, complete with bagpipes. And he always checks that box, because he likes the idea.”

“Of spending eternity in What’s-his-name’s Locker?

“Davy Jones.”

“Right. Of lying on the bottom of the ocean and getting eaten by crustaceans?”

“What’s not to like?”

She made a face. “Anyway,” she said, “according to what I read—”

“Uh-huh. I won’t ask you where you read it. I’ll ask you when you read it.”

“Gee, I don’t know. A couple of months ago.”

“I bet you had a Metrocard in your wallet, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” She looked puzzled, until she didn’t. “In this universe—”

“In this universe,” I said, “if Abel wants a watery grave, that’s what he gets.”

Back in Arbor Court, I took the bills from the three envelopes and dealt them out in two equal stacks, each of which just fit in an envelope. I gave one to Carolyn and kept the other.

Carolyn weighed her share in her hand. “Bern,” she said, “this is too much.”

“For a sixty-million dollar diamond? I think the word Abel used was pittance.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. My share’s too much. You did all the work.”

“I opened one lock.”

“That’s more than I did.”

“It was a Rabson,” I said. “With what I’ve taught you, and all the time you spent practicing, you could have opened it yourself.”

“You think? I’m way out of practice.”

“It’s not something you forget. It’s like falling off a bicycle.”

“I don’t know, Bern.”

“I do, and it’s beside the point. We’re partners in this enterprise. We went into it together and we came out of it together, and if we’d walked into a roomful of cops, we’d have both faced the same charges. And if I’m the one who opened the lock, who picked the right drawer to open?”

“Fifty-fifty, huh?”

“Even Steven. The goose gets the same amount of sauce as the gander.”

Years ago I’d had my crafty friend build a third hidey-hole, this one at the rear left corner of her closet. She headed for it with the envelope and returned moments later, still managing to look unconvinced. She couldn’t take issue with my arguments, she said, but it still didn’t seem right. Wasn’t I the senior partner? Shouldn’t I get more?

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “As you may have noticed, we’ve got one envelope left over.”

“This one? It’s empty, Bern.”

“And it’s mine,” I said. “I’m keeping it. Hand it over.”

She watched as I made a show of brushing some imaginary lint from the empty envelope, then set about folding it and finding pocket space for it. Before I was finished, she rose from her chair and came over to where I was sitting and stood alongside me.

Our eyes met. If the diamond had brought out the blue of her eyes, well, the color was no less intense now that the stone was in a safe four miles uptown.

“Bern?”

I got to my feet. I knew what she was waiting for, but suppose I was wrong? Then what?

She gave the slightest nod, as if answering my unvoiced question.

I took her in my arms and kissed her.

We’d kissed before, far too many times to count. We’d kissed hello and we’d kissed goodbye, as friends do — not all the time, not even half the time, but often enough. Some of our kisses were air kisses, and some were blown across the room to the recipient, but most were on her cheek or mine, and now and then there was a brief meeting of our lips.

Once, after several lessons, she succeeded in opening a reasonably complicated lock. She beamed, I put a hand on either side of her face and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Funny what you remember.

There was friendship in our occasional kisses, and affection. Women, straight or gay, kiss their same-sex friends in that fashion, as do many gay men. In my experience, straight men limit themselves to hugs, and even those embraces are awkward as often as not.

So whenever I kissed Carolyn or she kissed me, there was something gender-related in the act. But there was never a sexual element, never anything flirtatious, never any conscious or unconscious implication that the kiss could be a prelude to... well, to anything.

This was different.

“I’m a lesbian.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t just telling you. I was telling both of us.”

“Okay.”

“Kiss me again. Oh, gee. It’s not just the novelty of it, is it?”

“No.”

“You’re so much taller than I am. Even when you bend your knees and I get on my tiptoes.”

“They say everybody’s the same height lying down.”

“And it’s true,” she said. “I told you about the skyscraper I pulled out of the Duchess, didn’t I? Back before it turned into a pizza place. The basketball player?”

“A forward for the New York Liberty, wasn’t she?”

“Just a point guard, but she was taller than you, Bern. You know what? I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Good.”

“Let’s lie down,” she said. “Can we do that?”