Why Me?

11

Dortmunder brought home a Whopper from the Burger King, opened a can of beer, and started phoning around. The first several guys he called weren't home. Then he reached one fellow's wife, who said, "Jack's in jail."

"In jail? Since when?"

"Since about half an hour ago. I just put the soufflé in the oven and in walk these cops. So much for lunch."

"Wha'd they grab him for?"

"Practice. Took him in for questioning, is all. They don't have a thing on him and they know it."

"So they'll have to let him go."

"Sure. And here I am with cold, soggy soufflé. It's just harassment, that's all."

"Listen," Dortmunder said. "What I wanted to ask Jack is, does he know the address of a fellow called Stoon. Would you maybe know it?"

"Stoon? Oh, I think I know who you mean, but I don't know where he lives."

"Oh. Okay."

"Sorry."

"Tsokay. Sorry about Jack."

"It's the soufflé I feel sorry for."

The next two guys weren't home, but the one after that was. He was home, and he was mad. "I just been to the precinct," he said. "They had me there two hours."

"For what?"

"Questioning, they call it. Bullshit is what I call it. They're grabbing people all over the city."

"What is it, a stunt?"

"No, it's that ruby, the one got knocked over out to Kennedy last night. That's what they're looking for, and they're squeezing hard. I never seen nothing like it."

"It's real valuable, huh?"

"I don't know, Dortmunder, I don't think that's it. Valuable things get stolen, am I right? That's what they're for. I mean, it happens a lot. I mean, you wouldn't go out to steal apple cores."

"So what's the point?"

"Beats me. This ruby's important somehow. It's got the law very agitated."

"It'll blow over," Dortmunder said. "What I'm calling about, do you know a guy named Stoon?"

"Stoon. Yeah."

"Do you have an address?"

"On Perry Street, in the Village. Twenty-one, I think, maybe twenty-three. His name's on the bell."

"Thanks."

"I'll tell you one thing. I'm glad I'm not the guy boosted that ruby. The heat is intense."

"I know what you mean," Dortmunder said.

Next, he tried Kelp's number again, just in case the idiot had retired his phone-ahead box, but it was the cheery girl who answered. "Oh," Dortmunder said. "He's still got that box on, huh? Sorry to bother you."

"No," said the girl, "I'm here—" But Dortmunder, disgusted, was already hanging up, breaking the connection before she said, " — at Andy's apartment."

Immediately, with Dortmunder's hand still on it, the phone rang. He picked up the receiver again: "Hello?"

"You been on the phone."

"I'm still on the phone," Dortmunder pointed out. "How you doing, Stan?"

"I'm okay," Stan Murch said. "I think I got a nice one. Needs some planning, some leadership. You available?"

"Very," Dortmunder said.

"I thought, just a couple guys. Ralph Winslow, you know him?"

"Sure. He's okay."

"And Tiny Bulcher."

"Is he out again?"

"Turned out the gorilla didn't press charges."

"Oh."

"We'll meet tonight at the O.J. Ten o'clock good?"

"Sure."

"Do you know how I can get in touch with Andy Kelp?"

"No," said Dortmunder.