“I had one,” I said, “but I could never get batteries for it.”
“Their contention is you had the cards when you left your place and sold them during the night to person or persons unknown. But they have to do more than contend. Can they prove it?”
“No.”
“Suppose they find the buyer?”
“There was no buyer, Wally.”
“You know,” he said, “I think I’m gonna have another of these doughnuts. You can’t beat Ethiopians when it comes to doughnuts. You want one?” I shook my head. “It’s good I run seventy miles a week,” he said, “or I’d weigh three hundred pounds. Bernie, it might be a good idea if you beat them to the punch. Give up the fence.”
“Give up the fence?”
“Rat him out.”
“There was no fence,” I said.
“I know it may strike you as unethical,” he went on, “but standards aren’t what they used to be. Even Mafia guys drop dimes on each other nowadays. Next thing they do is call their agent, set up a book deal and a miniseries. Incidentally, Bernie, when the time comes—”
“You’re the guy I’ll call, Wally.”
“Naturally.”
“Wally,” I said, “there was no fence, because I never took the cards.”
“Whatever you say, Bernie. Listen, if you didn’t fence them—”
“I just said so, didn’t I?”
“That case, I hope you got them someplace safe. One reason they kept you overnight was so they’d have time to get a warrant and search your apartment. They must not have found anything, because we’d know about it if they did. Wherever you put the cards—”
“I never took them.”
“Bernie, I’m your attorney.”
“Really? I was beginning to think you were the DA. I never took the cards. I didn’t even know he had baseball cards, and they wouldn’t have tempted me if I did, because who knew they were worth that kind of money?”
“I thought everybody knew. I must have a dozen acquaintances who collect them. Lawyers, mostly. It’s a great investment.”
“So I understand.”
“They go to dealers, spend their weekends at card shows. One woman I know never leaves her office. She sits at her desk, plugged into one of those computer bulletin boards, buying and selling as if she had a seat on the stock exchange. She pays by credit card and they Fed Ex the cards to her at the office. She walks them across the street to the bank and pops them in her safe deposit box. Her biggest hassle is deciding which client to bill her hours to. Bernie, say you did take the cards—”
“I didn’t.”
“This is hypothetical, okay? If you took them, or if you just happened to get hold of them, I could probably do an end run with the insurer that would include getting the charges dropped.” He took a sip of coffee. “You really didn’t take ’em, huh?”
“Don’t tell me it’s beginning to sink in.”
“So why call Gilmartin?”
“If I’d just finished knocking off his apartment,” I said, “that’s the last thing I would have done. The thing is, I cased his apartment, and—”
“I thought you didn’t know about the card collection.”
“All I knew was he and his wife weren’t going to be home that night. They lived in a good building in a decent neighborhood. It stood to reason I’d find something to steal.”
“Makes sense.”
“But I didn’t go, Wally. I resisted temptation, and got a little bit tanked in the process. The real reason I called wasn’t to tweak his tail, it was to make sure he and Edna were home safe so I didn’t have to keep fighting the urge to pop his locks and make myself at home. When I finally reached him I joshed him a little, that’s all. It seemed safe enough.”
“And then you went home.”
“Right.”
“And then you went out again.”
“Uh.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing you want to hear about, Wally.”
“Bernie,” he said earnestly, “I’m your attorney. Anything you tell me is a privileged communication. Anything you don’t tell me is a potential stumbling block down the line. For instance, if you had told me that Patience Tremaine was someone you were involved with socially—”
“How could I tell you that? I never even had the chance to speak to you.”
“Well, maybe that’s not a good example. What did you do when you left your apartment in the middle of the night?”
“I let myself into another apartment, stole some money, and then came home.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me that, Bernie.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I just said. I still wish you hadn’t told me. When I was five years old I begged my older brother to tell me the truth about Santa Claus, and he wouldn’t, and I begged and begged and begged, and finally he did, mostly to shut me up, I suppose. And the minute he did, I wished he hadn’t. Nothing I could do about it, though. I knew there was no Santa Claus, and the knowledge has been with me for the rest of my life.”
“It must have been awful.”
“It was.”
“So I guess you don’t want to hear about the dead body.”
“Oh my God.”
“So I won’t say anything.”
He shook his head. “Ignorance may be bliss,” he said, “but knowledge is power, and a good lawyer takes power over bliss any day. So let’s hear it.”
“Here’s what I think will happen,” he said. “They’ll spend a few days investigating, and when they don’t turn up anything further they’ll drop all charges.”
“Great.”
“Unless they find out where you really went after you got home from Carolyn’s. If that happens, I’d hate to be in your shoes.” He paused to glance at my feet. “Saucony,” he said, recognizing the logo on the shoes in question. “I almost bought a pair of those. How are they holding up?”
“They’re fine. Of course, the only exercise they get is when I take them out for a walk.”
“You never got back to running, huh, Bern? I don’t know how you managed to stop. It’s addictive, you know. They’ve done studies.”
“I know.”
“How’d you break the addiction?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I just substituted another addiction for it. I found something even more addictive than running.”
“What?”
“Not running,” I said. “It’s got to be the most addictive thing ever. Believe me, a few days of not running and I was hooked.”
“I don’t think it would work for me,” he said. “I hope I never find out.”
“Like Santa Claus.”
“Right. Where was I?”
“If they find out, you’d hate to be in my Sauconys.”
He nodded. “Because you won’t have an alibi, and they’ll have a witness or two and possibly some physical evidence, and the guy in the tub raises the stakes. A former president would say you were in deep doo-doo. His successor would probably advise you not to inhale.”
“What should I do?”
“Just sit tight,” he said. “Don’t break into any houses.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Well, don’t pull any unplanned burglaries, either. The money’s not worth it. Speaking of money, Carolyn gave me ten thousand dollars.”
A while back I had built a secret compartment into Carolyn’s closet. It’s small—you couldn’t conceal a Third Cat there—but it’s a perfect hiding place for money and valuables. I’ve always believed in maintaining a cash emergency fund, and it made sense to keep it not only where I could get hold of it, but where she’d have easy access. So I’d stashed ten grand in Carolyn’s apartment, and she’d passed it on to Wally, as per my instructions.