"You're bluffing," I said, "and I don't know why, because I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done. Which I think you really ought to tell me before we go any further."
"You think so, do you?"
"I really do, Ray."
"Whatever you say, Bernie. Sometime a little after midnight a couple of mopes walked into the lobby of one of them white brick apartment buildings on the corner of Third Avenue an' 37th Street. They overpowered the doorman, duct-taped his feet and ankles, slapped another piece of tape over his mouth, an' locked him in the parcel room. Then they went around to all the security cameras an' opened 'em up an' took out the tape."
"It seems like a lot to go through," I said, "to steal some videotapes."
"Go ahead an' be a wiseass, see what it gets you. Next thing they did was go upstairs to the penthouse apartment, which was on the top floor."
"Good place for it."
"They forced the door, and overpowered the man and woman inside the apartment, who'd sublet the place as Mr. and Mrs. Lyle Rogovin, which may or may not have been their real names. They trussed them up with duct tape, same as the doorman, an' went to work. There was a safe in the Rogovin apartment, big heavy monster, not what you'd expect to find in a residence. They got it open and cleaned it out and left."
"And you think I had something to do with it."
"I know damn well you did, Bernie."
"Because you know me, and you know how I operate, and I have a long history of overpowering doormen and binding them with duct tape and forcing my way into apartments when the owners are home."
"No, you've never done anythin' like that in your life."
"Of course not," I said, "so why are you wasting my time and yours with this nonsense?"
"And mine," Carolyn said.
"You want to go back where you belong so you can hose down a Rottweiler," he told her, "feel free. No, it's not your style, Bernie. An' I don't think for a minute that you roughed up the doorman or held a gun on the Rogovins."
"Then why on earth-"
"What I figure you did," he said, "what I flat outknow you did, is open the safe. That box was a Mosler, an' it took real talent to get into it, an' if there's one thing you've got a shitload of it's talent. In one area, anyway. I don't know if you can carry a tune or draw a straight line, but you can open any lock ever made without breakin' a sweat. That's what they wanted you for, an' that's why you were all over the neighborhood, walkin' around as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs." He glanced over at Raffles, who was once again sunning himself in the window. "No offense," he said. "You figure that's how he lost his tail, Bernie? Got hisself run over by a rockin' chair?"
"He's a Manx," I said. "He was born that way."
"An' I guess you were born that way yourself. With a talent for locks, I mean, not that you were born without a tail, although that's probably true too, now that I come to think of it."
"Ray," I said, "am I missing something? Besides a tail, I mean. What I don't get is where I come into all this. I know, you just told me, I'm the guy they brought in to open the safe. But why me?"
"They heard you were good."
"No, what makesyou think it was me?"
"I told you, Bernie. We got your pitcher."
"My pitcher? Oh, my picture."
"That's what I just said."
"Right. But you said they took the tape. The security cameras were out of commission."
"In that buildin', yeah. But not in the rest of the neighborhood. Jesus, Bernie, you walked past an ATM machine at the Chase bank at the corner of Third and 34th. An' you walked past a whole lot of buildin's. You must have been walkin' around for an hour or so, waitin' to get the call to go over to the penthouse an' crack the safe. What you got to remember, Bernie, is that they got these cameras all over the place. They're not just in lobbies an' elevators. You walk down a street, any street, you might as well go ahead an' smile, 'cause it's a good bet you're onCandid Camera."
"You say you've got all these pictures of me. You know, security camera pictures always tend to be blurry and out of focus. How do you even know it's me?"
"You want me to tell you what you were wearin'? Khakis an' a blue blazer. An' a polo shirt, but not striped like the one you got on today. It was a solid color shirt, but don't ask me the color, 'cause that I couldn't tell you."
"You've got pictures of me," I said, "but all I'm doing is walking around, and the last I heard that was still legal. The pictures don't establish that I was doing anything wrong."
"They didn't," he said. "Not until you opened your mouth and lies started pourin' out of it."
"Huh?"
"I asked you where you were last night," he said, "an' you said you were home, watchin' TV an' goin' to bed early an' never stirrin' except to pee. Right in your own bathroom, you said. You recall sayin' somethin' along those lines?"
"I wasn't under oath," I said, "so it's not perjury, but you're right. I lied."
"Now tell me somethin' I don't know."
"The reason I lied," I lied, "is I was ashamed to admit where I was." I turned to Carolyn. "Because you're here," I said.
"What's Shorty here got to do with it?"
Carolyn gave him a look. I said, "Oh, hell. There's a woman I've been seeing, and it's a sick, hopeless relationship, and I swore to Carolyn that I wasn't going to see her anymore. And I went out last night looking for her."
"I bet you went lookin' in Murray Hill."
"As a matter of fact I did. That's where she lives, but she wasn't home, so I went around looking in some of the bars and coffee shops she's apt to frequent."
"And did you find her?"
"Finally, but it took forever."
"Bernie, I can't believe what I'm hearing," Carolyn chimed in helpfully. "You actually started up with that neurotic bitch after you swore up and down you were through with her."
"I know, I know. It was a mistake."
"The two of you are somethin'," Ray said. "One lies an' the other swears to it. This femme fatality, has she got a name?"
"Of course she's got a name."
"Yeah, well, don't tell me, not just yet. First we'll try a little experiment." He took out his notebook, tore out a sheet of paper, ripped it in half, and gave half to me and half to Carolyn. "Since you both know this woman," he said, "whyntcha both write down her name?"
We did, and he collected the slips. " 'Barbara,' " he read. "An' Barbara. I don't know how the two of you pulled that one off, but it don't really matter. I don't buy the whole story for a second."
"Fine," I said. "It happens to be the truth, but you don't have to believe it. Take my picture and show it to those people."
"What people?"
"The Rogins, or whatever their name is."
"Rogovin."
"Fine. Show my picture to the Rogovins and ask them if they can identify me. When they can't, maybe you'll go bother somebody else."
"Can't do it, Bernie."
"Why not?"
"They took two bullets apiece in the side of the head, an' they're never gonna be able to identify anybody."
"Ohmigod."
"You didn't know, did you? I had a hunch you didn't. Your partners must have sent you home before they capped 'em." He frowned. "Bernie, you don't look so good. You're not gonna puke, are you?"
I shook my head.
"I know it's not your style," he said. "Not the rough stuff, and not the triple homicide."
"Triple? I thought you said there were just two of them."
"Yeah, well, the doorman was taped a little too well. He died of suffocation by the time somebody found him."
"God, that's awful."
"It's about as bad as it gets. I don't understand you, Bernie. Why would you want to work with people who would do something like that?"
"I didn't work with anybody."
"You usually don't," he allowed. "An' that's wise, because the worst thing about partners is they'll always rat you out to save their own asses. An' that's exactly what you're about to do, my friend."