Carolyn was hard at work combing out a Lhasa Apso. "Thank G.o.d," she said when she saw me, and popped the fluffy little dog into a cage. "Lunchtime, Dolly Lama. I'll deal with you later. Whatcha got, Bern?"

"Felafel."

"Sensational. Grab a chair."

I did and we dug in. Between bites I told her that everything looked good. Francis Rockland wouldn't be ha.s.sling either me or the Sikh, having accepted three thousand of the Maharajah's American dollars as compensation for his erstwhile toe. It struck me as a generous settlement, especially so when you recalled that he'd shot the toe off all by his lonesome. And I gather a few more rupees found their way into Ray Kirschmann's pocket. Money generally does.

Rudyard Whelkin, who incredibly enough proved to have a walletful of identification in that unlikely name, was booked as a material witness and released in his own recognizance. "I'm pretty sure he's out of the country," I told Carolyn. "Or at least out of town. He called me last night and tried to talk me into parting with the Hitler copy of The Deliverance of Fort Bucklow. The Deliverance of Fort Bucklow."

"Don't tell me he wants to sell it to the Sheikh."

"I think he knows what that would get him. Flayed alive, for instance. But there are enough other weirdos who'd pay a bundle for an item like that, and Whelkin's just the man to find one of them. He may never make the big score he's trying for but he hasn't missed many meals so far in life and I don't figure he'll start now."

"Did you give him the book?"

"No way. Oh, he's got a satchel full of copies. I only took the Hitler specimen from his room at the Gresham. I left him some Haggard copies and a few that hadn't been tampered with, so he can cook up another Hitler copy if he's got the time and patience. If he forged all of that once, he can do it again. But I'm holding onto the copy I swiped from him."

"You're not going to sell it?"

I may have managed to look hurt. "Of course not," I said. "I may be a crook in my off-hours, but I'm a perfectly honest bookseller. I don't misrepresent my stock. Anyway, the book's not for sale. It's for my personal library. I don't figure to read it very often but I like the idea of having it around."

The Maharajah, I told her, was on his way to Monaco to unwind with a flutter at roulette or baccarat or whatever moved him. The whole experience, he told me, had been invigorating. I was glad he thought so.

And Jesse Arkwright, I added, was in jail. Jugged, by George, and locked up tighter than the Crown jewels. They'd booked the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for Murder One and you can't get bailed out of that charge. Doesn't matter how rich you are.

"Not that he'll be imprisoned on that charge," I explained. "To tell you the truth, I'll be surprised if the case ever comes to trial. The evidence is sketchy. It might be enough to convict a poor man but he's got the bread for a good enough lawyer to worm his way out. He'll probably plead to a reduced charge. Manslaughter, say, or overtime parking. He'll pull a sentence of a year or two and I'll bet you even money he won't serve a day. Suspended sentence. Wait and see."

"But he killed that woman."

"No question."

"It doesn't seem fair."

"Few things do," I said philosophically. Move over, Immanuel Kant. "At least he's not getting off scot-free. He's behind bars even as we speak, and his reputation is getting dragged through the mud, and he'll pay a lot emotionally and financially even if he doesn't wind up serving any prison time for what he did. He's lucky, no question, but he's not as he thought he'd be before you nailed him with the bookend."

"It was a lucky shot."

"It was a perfect strike from where I stood."

She grinned and scooped up some hummus. "Maybe I'm what the Mets could use," she said.

"What the Mets could use," I said, "is divine intercession. Anyway, lots of things aren't fair. The Blinns are getting away with their insurance claim, for example. I'm off the hook for burglarizing their apartment. The police agreed not to press charges in return for my cooperation in collaring Arkwright for murder, which is pretty decent of them, but the Blinns still get to collect for all the stuff I stole, which I didn't steal to begin with, and if that's fair you'll have to explain it to me."

"It may not be fair," she said, "but I'm glad anyway. I like Gert and Artie."

"So do I. They're good people. And that reminds me."

"Oh?"

"I had a call from Artie Blinn last night."

"Did you? This mint tea's terrific, incidentally. Sweet, though. Couldn't you get it without sugar?"

"That's how it comes."

"It's probably going to rot my teeth and my insides and everything. But I don't care. Do you care?"

"I can't get all worked up about it. There was something Artie wanted to know, to get back to Artie."

"There are things I've I've been wanting to know," she said. "Things I've been meaning to ask you." been wanting to know," she said. "Things I've been meaning to ask you."

"Oh?"

"About Rudyard Whelkin."

"What about him?"

"Was he really drugged when he set up the appointment with you? Or did he just sound that way?"

"He just sounded that way."

"Why? And why didn't he show up at Porlock's place?"

"Well, it was her idea. Her reason was that she was going to sandwich in a meeting with the Maharajah so she could sell him the odd copy of the book. She certainly didn't want Whelkin around while all that was going on. The way she sold it to him was to leave things open so that I wouldn't know he was involved in double-crossing me. He could always get in touch with me later on and explain that he'd been doped, too, and that was why he missed the appointment. Of course, all of that went sour when Arkwright gave her a hole in the head. But that's why he sounded groggy when I spoke to him-he was putting on an act in advance."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I see," she said. "A subtle pattern begins to emerge." see," she said. "A subtle pattern begins to emerge."

"Now if we can get back to Artie Blinn-"

"What happened to your wallet?"

"Arkwright took it and stuck it under a cushion where the cops would be sure to find it. I told you, didn't I? That's how they knew to suspect me."

"But what happened to it since then?"

"Oh," I said. I patted my pocket. "I got it back. They had it impounded as evidence, but no one could say exactly what it was evidence of, and Ray talked to somebody and I got it back."

"What about the five hundred dollars?"

"It was either gone before the cops got it, or some cop made a profit on the day. But it's gone now." I shrugged. "Easy come, easy go."

"That's a healthy att.i.tude."

"Uh-huh. Speaking of Artie-"

"Who was speaking of Artie?"

"n.o.body was, but we're going to. Artie wanted to know what happened to the bracelet."

"s.h.i.t."

"He said he asked you about it when you were over there with the photographs, but you said you'd forgotten to bring it along."

"Double s.h.i.t."

"But I seem to remember that I asked you about it just before you got out of the car, and you said you had it right there in your pocket."

"Yeah," she said. She drank some more of the mint tea. "Well, I lied, Bernie."

"Uh-huh."

"Not to you. To Artie and Gert. It was in my pocket but I told him it wasn't."

"I'll bet you had a super reason."

"As a matter of fact I had a s.h.i.tty reason. I kept thinking how nice it would look on a certain person's arm."

"The certain person wouldn't be Miranda Messinger, I don't suppose."

"It's your intuitive brilliance that makes me love you, Bernie."

"Here I thought it was my engaging smile. Does she like the bracelet?"

"Loves it." She grinned up at me. "I went over there last night to return the Polaroid. She never even noticed it was missing. I gave her the bracelet as a peace offering, and I told her everything, and-"

"And you're back together again."

"Well, last night we were. I wouldn't want to make any long-range projections. I'll tell you, the way to that woman's heart is through her wrist."

"Whatever works."

"Yeah. 'You wouldn't want to go and wear it on the East Side,' I told her. 'Because it's just the least bit hot.' "

"Did you talk like that when you told her? Out of the side of your mouth?"

"Yeah. It really got to her. I swear the next time I buy her something I'm gonna tell her I stole it." She sighed. "Okay, Bern. What do we do about the Blinns?"

"I'll think of something."

"I was gonna tell you, but-"

"I could tell you were eager to discuss it. The way you were so anxious to talk about the Blinns and all."

"Well, I-"

"It's cool," I said. "Relax and eat your hummus."

A little later she said, "Listen, Randy's got a dance cla.s.s tonight. You want to come by after work? We can have dinner in or out and then catch a movie or something."

"I'd love to," I said, "but tonight's out."

"Heavy date?"

"Not exactly." I hesitated, then figured what the h.e.l.l. "When we meet for drinks tonight," I said, "I'll make mine Perrier."

She sat forward, eyes wide. "No s.h.i.t. You're going on a caper?"

"That's not the word I'd use, but yeah, that's about it."

"Where?"

"Forest Hills Gardens."

"The same neighborhood as the last time?"

"The same house. The coat I described to Ray Kirschmann wasn't a fantasy. I saw it Wednesday night in Elfrida Arkwright's closet. And I promised it to Ray, and when I make promises to cops I like to keep them. So I'm going back there tonight to get it."

"Won't Elfrida object?"

"Elfrida's not home. She visited her hubby in jail yesterday, and then she went home and thought things through, and then she packed a bag and took off for parts unknown. Home to Mama, maybe. Or home to Palm Beach. I guess she didn't want to stick around for the notoriety."

"I can dig that." She c.o.c.ked her head and there was a faraway look in her eye. "He's got it coming," she said. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d killed his mistress and he's not going to serve time for it. I remember when you were describing the house to me, Bern. You said you wanted to back up a truck onto the front lawn and steal everything from the chandeliers down to the rugs."

"I had the impulse."

"Is that what you're gonna do?"

"No."

"You're just taking the coat?"

"Well..."

"You said there was jewelry, didn't you? Maybe you can find something to replace Gert Blinn's bracelet."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"And there's a coin collection."

"I remember the coin collection, Carolyn."

"I remember the other things you mentioned. Are you going to take the Pontiac?"

"I think that might be pushing my luck."