“If I can,” she said, doubtful, not knowing what he had in mind.
“Not now,” he said. “I know you’re busy. But I could like make up a list, my questions, give you a call tomorrow. Now you know who I am.”
No, I don’t, she thought. She said, “What is it you have to do in DC?”
“Oh, just a little job,” he said.
This was not a good answer. She was starting to wonder if she should be worried. What had she got mixed up with here? Terrorists? Fanatics? She said, “It wouldn’t involve anything blowing up, would it?”
He gave her a blank look: “Huh?”
Andy said, “Anne Marie, it isn’t anything like—” But then he saw the expression on her face, and he shook his head and turned to his friend, saying, “John, the best thing, I think, is level with her.”
John obviously didn’t think that was the best thing at all. He stared at Andy as though Andy had asked him to change his religion or something. He said, “Level? You mean, level level? On the level?”
Andy said, “Anne Marie, just as a hypothetical, what would you say if I told you we weren’t entirely honest?”
“I’d say nobody’s entirely honest,” she said. “What kind of not honest are you?”
“Well, mostly we pick up things,” he said.
John said, “Right. That’s it. Pick up things.”
She shook her head, not getting it, and Andy said, “You know, like, we see things lying around and we pick them up.”
Anne Marie felt her way through the maze of this locution. She didn’t quite know how to phrase her next question, but went ahead anyway: “You mean . . . you mean you’re thieves?”
Beaming, happy she’d got it, Andy said, “Personally I prefer the word crook. I think it’s jauntier.”
“You’re crooks.”
“See? It is jauntier.”
“These appointments, late at night . . .”
“We’re out picking up things,” he said. “Or planning it. Or whatever.”
“Picking up things.” Anne Marie struggled to find firm ground. First tonight she’d thought Andy was slightly enigmatic but fun, then she’d thought he was sexually kinky and maybe dangerously kinky, and then she’d thought he was a homicidal terrorist, and now it turned out he was a thief. Crook. Thief. Too many lightning transformations. Having no idea what she thought of this most recent one, she said, “What did you pick up tonight?”
John, grumbling, said, “Not what I was looking for.”
“But a lot of nice things,” Andy said. “I would say tonight was one of our more profitable nights, John. In a long time.”
“Still,” John said. He seemed very dissatisfied.
So she turned her attention to John, saying, “What was it you wanted that you didn’t find?”
He merely shrugged, as though the memory were too painful, but Andy said, “Tell her, John. She’ll understand. I don’t know Anne Marie that long, but already I can tell you, she’s got a good heart. Go ahead and tell her.”
“I hate telling that story, over and over,” John said. “It’s got the same ending every time.”
“Do you mind, I tell it?”
“It’ll still come out the same,” John said, “but go ahead.”
John ostentatiously looked at the blank TV screen, as though waiting for a bulletin, while Andy said, “What happened, about a week ago John and another fella went to a place that was supposed to be empty—”
“To pick up some things,” Anne Marie suggested.
“That’s it. Only it wasn’t empty, after all, the householder was there, with a gun.”
“Ouch,” Anne Marie said.
“John’s feelings exactly,” Andy said. “But that’s what we call your occupational hazard, it’s all in the game. You know. But what happened next wasn’t fair.”
John, watching the nothing on TV, growled.
Andy said, “The householder called the cops, naturally, no problem with that. But when the cops got there the householder claimed John stole a ring and was wearing it. Only it was John’s ring, that his best close personal friend, her name is May, you’d like her, she gave him. And the cops made him give it to the householder.”
“That’s mean,” Anne Marie said, and she meant it. She also thought it was kind of funny, she could see the humor in it, but from the slope of John’s shoulders she suspected she would be wiser not to mention that side.
“Very mean,” Andy agreed. “So John, after he got away from the police—”
Surprised, she said, “You escaped?”
“Yeah.” Even that memory didn’t seem to give him much pleasure.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were out on bail or something.”
“No,” Andy said, “he got away clean. But he’s been looking for the householder ever since, because he wants his ring back. It’s got sentimental value, you know.”
“Because his friend gave it to him,” Anne Marie said, and nodded.
“Because,” John said, “he made a fool outta me. I’m gonna feel itchy and uncomfortable until I get that ring back.”
“This householder is a very rich householder,” Andy said. “I mean, he didn’t need the ring. Also, he’s got a lot of houses, including one in this very building.”
“So last night . . .” she said.
“You know the phrase,” he told her. “Last night, we cased the joint.”
“Of course.”
“And tonight we went there,” Andy said, “and we just missed the guy, he was just going out the door. So John did not get his ring.”
“Again,” John said.
“But we did get a lot of other stuff,” Andy said. “Nice stuff. As long as we were there.”
Anne Marie said, “And this man is going to Washington?”
“Next week. He’s got a house there, too. John figures to pay him a visit.”
“And this time,” John said, “he’ll be there.”
Anne Marie said, “Where’s this house exactly?”
“Well, it’s an apartment, is what it is,” Andy said. “In the Watergate.”
This time she felt she could show her amusement, and did. “John? You want to pull a burglary at the Watergate? A little third-rate burglary at the Watergate?”
Andy said, “I already tried that on him, and it didn’t work. John isn’t much of a history buff.”
Anne Marie said, “So that’s why you’ll have some questions about DC. You want to get in there, and get your ring, and get out again, and not get into trouble along the way.”
“That’s it,” Andy said.
John, the recital of his tale of woe at last finished, turned away from the TV screen and said, “So if it’s okay with you, I’ll give you a call here tomorrow, sometime, whenever you say. I’ll have some questions figured out.”
“Sure,” Anne Marie said. “Or . . .” And she allowed a pause to grow, while she lifted an eyebrow at Andy, who gave her a bright look but no other response. So she said to John, “Did Andy tell you my own situation at the moment?”
“He didn’t tell me anything,” John said, “except you knew Washington.”
“Well, my marriage seems to have hit an underwater stump and sunk,” she said. “Theoretically, I’m supposed to go home on Saturday, but I’m not sure I think of it as home any more. I’m not sure what to think, to tell you the truth. I’m at kind of loose ends here.”
“Anne Marie,” Andy said, “I wouldn’t have hoped to even ask this, but I’m wondering. Do you mean that you think you could stick around some, give us advice along the way?”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been in DC,” she said.
John’s head lifted. He damn near smiled. He almost looked normal. He said, “Yeah?”
Andy, with all evidence of delight, said, “Anne Marie! You’d come along?”