"Well ... I want to be with you."

"Yes, I want to be with you, too."

"I want to kiss you again, I've been wanting to ever since "

"Yes, yes-"

"But I don't want to hurt you."

"But, baby, how can you possibly "

"I just want you to know that."

She stared at him silently. At last she said, "You're a funny person." She reached up and kissed him swiftly and then moved back from him and looked into his face and said, "Come," and took his hand.

12.

The party in Roger's room started at about five-thirty when f.o.o.k Shanahan came in with a man who lived on the second floor and whom Roger didn't know at all. He and Amelia had just come into the room, had in fact barely taken off their coats when f.o.o.k knocked on the door and - without waiting for anyone to answer - opened the door and came in, followed by a very tall thin man with thick-rimmed eyegla.s.ses and a thatch of brown hair turning white. His eyebrows were already completely white, thick and s.h.a.ggy; they looked fake to Roger, as if they had been pasted on as a disguise. f.o.o.k had a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and two gla.s.ses in the other. He went immediately to the dresser where he put down the bottle and the gla.s.ses and then he turned to Roger and said, "Aren't you going to introduce us to the young lady?"

"Oh, sure," Roger said. "This is Amelia Perez. Amelia, I'd like you to meet f.o.o.k Shanahan, and I'm afraid I don't know the other gentleman's name."

"The other gentleman's name is Dominick Tartaglia," f.o.o.k said, "and he's no gentleman, believe me." Tartaglia laughed. f.o.o.k laughed with him and then said, "I gather you two have just come in from the frozen tundra out there, and would appreciate a drink."

"Well . . ." Roger said hesitantly, and then glanced at Amelia.

"Sure," Amelia said. "I'd love a drink."

"The problem is one of numerical disproportion," f.o.o.k said. "We seem to have four people and only three gla.s.ses."

"Roger and I can share a gla.s.s," Amelia said, and smiled gently at him.

"Then there's no problem," f.o.o.k said. He went to the dresser and opened the bottle. Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and leaning forward, resting her elbow on her knee, one hand toying with the pearls at her throat. Tartaglia stood alongside the dresser, smiling as f.o.o.k poured the drinks. Roger glanced at Amelia to see if she minded them being here, but she seemed to be pretty happy. We'll make love as soon as they leave, he thought.

And suddenly he was frightened.

"We were waiting for you to come home, Roger," f.o.o.k said, "because we wanted to know how you made out with the bulls."

"Oh, we had a nice talk," Roger said.

"Were the police here?" Amelia asked, and she suddenly sat up straight and looked at Roger.

"Yeah," Tartaglia said. "Our landlady had a refrigerator stolen from her."

"A refrigerator?" Amelia said. "Thank you," she said to f.o.o.k as he handed her the drink.

"I apologize for the lack of ice," f.o.o.k said. "Would you like a little water in that?"

"Spoils the taste," Amelia said, and grinned.

"Ah, an Irish colored girl," Shanahan said. "The best kind." He lifted his gla.s.s. "Cheers, Miss."

Amelia sipped at her drink and then raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "Whoosh!" she said, and handed the gla.s.s to Roger. Roger sniffed it, and then took a short swallow.

"So what happened?" f.o.o.k asked.

"Nothing," Roger said. "They came in and they were very polite, and they asked me where I'd been last night, and I told them. Then, let me see, I guess we talked about how much I thought the refrigerator was worth, and then they said I could go home or stay here, whichever I wanted, they had no more questions for me."

"That means they think he's clean," Tartaglia said to f.o.o.k.

"Of course," f.o.o.k said. "We're all clean. Who the h.e.l.l would want to steal that old b.i.t.c.h's box, excuse me, Miss."

"That's all right," Amelia said, and she took another sip of the drink.

"Did you tell him about the shelves?" Tartaglia said.

"No," f.o.o.k said.

"What about the shelves?"

"They found them."

"What shelves?" Amelia asked.

"From the refrigerator. They found them near the furnace downstairs," Tartaglia said.

"Which means," f.o.o.k said, "that whoever went to the trouble of stealing that broken-down piece of machinery also went to the trouble of removing the shelves from it first. Now does that make any sense to you?"

"None at all," Amelia said, and finished her drink.

"Are you ready for another one, young lady?" Tartaglia asked.

"Just to take off the chill," Amelia said, and she winked.

"She's Irish, I tell you," f.o.o.k said.

Tartaglia took her gla.s.s and poured it half full. He poured more bourbon into his own gla.s.s, and then handed Amelia hers and walked to f.o.o.k with the bottle, filling his gla.s.s as f.o.o.k talked.

"What good is a refrigerator without shelves?" f.o.o.k asked. "You're not drinking, Roger. You're supposed to be sharing the young lady's drink."

"Amelia," she said.

"Yes, Amelia, of course. You're a beautiful girl, Amelia," f.o.o.k said. "May I congratulate you upon your taste, Roger?"

"Yes, you may," Roger said, and smiled.

"Congratulations," f.o.o.k said. "Isn't there another gla.s.s in this place?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I insist that you share the lady's "

"Amelia," she said., "Yes, I insist that you share Amelia's drink. Amelia, let the man have a sip."

"Well, I don't want to drink too much," Roger said.

"He gets violent when he's drunk," f.o.o.k said, and winked at Amelia.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "I don't think he's that kind."

"No, he's a very sweet man," f.o.o.k said, taking the gla.s.s from her gently, and handing it to Roger. "Drink," he said "And tell me what you think about those shelves."

Roger sipped at the bourbon and then handed the gla.s.s back to Amelia. "Gee, I don't know what to make of it," he said.

"Why would anyone steal a refrigerator and leave the shelves behind?" f.o.o.k asked.

"Maybe it was too heavy to carry with the shelves in it," Tartaglia said, and burst out laughing.

"Let me get this straight," Amelia said, drinking. "A refrigerator was stolen from your landlady's apartment last night, but the shelves-"

"From the bas.e.m.e.nt," Tartaglia corrected. "It was stolen from the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Oh. I see. Oh. But in any case, whoever took it first removed the shelves from inside, is this right?"

"That's right."

"Fingerprints." Amelia said.

"Of course!" f.o.o.k said.

"They'll find fingerprints on the shelves," Tartaglia said. "That's right. You're right, miss, have another drink."

"I'll get plotzed," Amelia said. "You'll get me plotzed here, I won't know what the h.e.l.l I'm doing." She held out her gla.s.s.

They won't find fingerprints on the shelves, Roger thought. I was wearing gloves. They won't find fingerprints anywhere in that bas.e.m.e.nt.

"But why did he take out the shelves?" f.o.o.k insisted. "That's the problem. Fingerprints aside, why did he bother to remove the shelves?"

They were all silent, thinking.

"I don't know," Amelia said at last, and took another swallow of bourbon.

"I don't know, either," Tartaglia said.

"Nor I," f.o.o.k said.

"Roger?" Amelia said. She grinned somewhat foolishly, and c.o.c.ked her head to one side, as though she were having trouble keeping him in focus. "You seem to have an idea."

"No," he said.

"You seemed very thoughtful there," she said.

"No."

"Didn't he seem very thoughtful there?" she asked.

"He certainly did," Tartaglia said.

"Well, I don't have any ideas," Roger said, and smiled.

"I have the feeling he would like us to get out of here," f.o.o.k said.

"No, no . . ."

"I have that feeling, too," Tartaglia said.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome," f.o.o.k said. "I'm sure Roger and Amelia have a great many things to talk about, and couldn't care less about Mrs. Dougherty's G.o.dd.a.m.n icebox."

"Refrigerator," Tartaglia said.

"Yes, pardon me," f.o.o.k said, "and pardon me for saying G.o.dd.a.m.n, Miss."

"Amelia."

"Yes, Amelia."

"You don't have to rush off," Roger said. "Have another drink."

"No, no, we simply wanted to know how you'd made out with those two bulls they sent over from the station house. What were their names, Dominick? Do you remember their names?"

"Mutt and Jeff," Tartaglia said, and laughed. "You think they're ever going to find that refrigerator?"

"Never," f.o.o.k said.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I'll bet somebody's got that refrigerator in his kitchen right this minute. I'll bet it's full of beer and eggs and milk and soda and cheese and apples and oranges and bananas and grapes and jelly and-"

"Oh, you should never put ba-nan-nuhs," Amelia sang, "In the re-fridge-a-ray-ter!"