"Weren't you supposed to be unconscious when they arrived?"

"Maybe the wallet was a form of insurance. Or maybe the killer took the wallet on the chance I had something incriminating in it, like the card Whelkin gave me or some notes to myself." I shrugged. "I suppose the wallet could be anywhere right now. I suppose I should be all worked up about stopping my Master Charge card before someone charges a ton of airline tickets to my account. Somehow that's way down on my list of priorities."

"I can understand that." She put her chin in her hand again and leaned forward to fasten her blue eyes on me. "What's at the top of the list, Bernie?"

"Huh?"

"The priority list. What are you going to do?"

"Beats me."

"How about another drink while you think about it?"

I shook my head. "I think I've had enough."

"I had enough two or three drinks ago but I'm not going to let a little thing like that stop me." She got the bottle and helped herself. "You can just know when you've had enough and then stop?"

"Sure."

"That's remarkable," she said. She sipped her brandy, looked at me over the brim of the gla.s.s. "Did you know there was anybody else in the apartment? Besides the Porlock woman?"

"No. But I never got past the living room until she was dead. I thought it was just the two of us and we were waiting for Whelkin."

"The killer could have been in the other room."

"It's possible."

"Or she was alone, and she drugged you and took the book and the money and the wallet, and then she was on her way out the door and in came a man with a gun."

"Right."

"Who? The Sikh? Whelkin?"

"I dunno, Carolyn."

"Why on earth would she wear a wig? I mean, she wasn't anybody you knew to begin with, right? So why would she want to disguise herself?"

"Beats me."

"How about the Sikh? Was that a disguise? Maybe the Sikh was Rudyard Whelkin."

"He had a beard and a turban."

"The beard could have been a fake. And a turban is something you can put on and then take off."

"The Sikh was enormous. Six-four easy, maybe more."

"You never heard of elevator shoes?"

"Whelkin wasn't the Sikh," I said. "Trust me."

"All I do is trust you. But back to the other question. How do you get out of the mess you're in? Can you go to the cops?"

"That's the one thing I can't can't do. They'll book me for Murder One. I could try pleading to a lesser charge, or gamble that my lawyer could find a way to addle the jury, but the odds are I'd spend the next ten or twenty years with free room and board. I don't really want to do that." do. They'll book me for Murder One. I could try pleading to a lesser charge, or gamble that my lawyer could find a way to addle the jury, but the odds are I'd spend the next ten or twenty years with free room and board. I don't really want to do that."

"I can understand that. Jesus. Can't you-"

"Can't I what?"

"Tell them what you told me? Scratch that question, huh? Just blame it on the brandy. Because why on earth would they believe you? n.o.body'd believe a story like yours except a d.y.k.e who shaves dogs. Bernie, there's got to be a way out, but what the h.e.l.l is it?"

"Find the real killer."

"Oh, sure," she said. She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Now why didn't I think of that? Just find the real killer, solve the crime, get the stolen book back, and everything's copasetic. Just like TV, right? With everything wrapped up in time for the final commercial."

"And some scenes from next week's show," I said. "Don't forget that."

We talked for a while longer. Then Carolyn started yawning intermittently and I caught it from her. We agreed that we ought to get some sleep. We weren't accomplishing anything now and our minds were too tired to work properly.

"You'll stay here," she said. "You take the bed."

"Don't be silly. I'll take the couch."

"Don't you you be silly. You're six feet long and so's the bed. I'm five feet long and so's the couch. It's good the Sikh didn't drop in because there's no place to put him." be silly. You're six feet long and so's the bed. I'm five feet long and so's the couch. It's good the Sikh didn't drop in because there's no place to put him."

"I just thought-"

"Uh-huh. The couch is perfectly comfortable and I sleep on it a lot. I wind up there whenever Randy and I have a medium-level fight."

"What's a medium-level fight?"

"The kind where she doesn't go home to her own apartment."

"I didn't know she had one. I thought the two of you lived together."

"We do, but she's got a place on Morton Street. Smaller than this, if you can believe it. Thank G.o.d she's got a place of her own, so that she can move right back into it when we split up."

"Maybe you should stay there tonight, Carolyn." She started to say something but I pressed onward. "If you're at her place, then you're not an accessory after the fact. But if you're here, then there's no question but that you're harboring a fugitive, and-"

"I'll take my chances, Bernie."

"Well-"

"Besides, it's possible Randy didn't go to Bath Beach. It's possible she's home."

"Couldn't you stay with her, anyway?"

"Not if someone else is staying with her at the same time."

"Oh."

"Uh-huh. We live in a world of infinite possibilities. You get the bed and I get the couch. Okay?"

"Okay."

I helped her make up the couch. She went into the lavatory and emerged wearing Dr. Denton's and scowling as if daring me to laugh. I did not laugh.

I washed up at the kitchen sink, turned off the light, stripped down to my underwear and got into bed. For a while n.o.body said anything.

Then she said, "Bern?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know how much you know about gay women, but you probably know that some of us are bis.e.xual. Primarily gay but occasionally interested in going to bed with a man."

"Uh, I know."

"I'm not like that."

"I didn't think you were, Carolyn."

"I'm exclusively gay."

"That's what I figured."

"I figured it went without saying, but it's been my experience that a lot of things that go without saying, that you're better off if you say them." figured it went without saying, but it's been my experience that a lot of things that go without saying, that you're better off if you say them."

"I understand."

More silence.

"Bernie? She took the five hundred dollars and the wallet, right?"

"I had about two hundred dollars in my wallet, too. That was an expensive cup of coffee she gave me, let me tell you."

"How'd you pay for the cab?"

"Huh?"

"The cab downtown. And how did you buy that stuff at the drugstore so you could pick my lock? What did you use for money?"

"Oh," I said.

"Do you keep a few extra dollars in your shoe for emergencies?"

"Well, no," I said. "Not that it doesn't sound like a good idea, but no, Carolyn."

"Well?"

"I told you about the fire escape, didn't I? How I tried the roof and that was no good, so I went down and broke into an apartment on the fourth floor?"

"You told me."

"Well, uh, since I was there and all. I, uh, took a few minutes to look around. Opened a few drawers."

"In the fourth-floor apartment?"

"That's right. There was just small change in a dresser drawer, but one of the kitchen canisters had money in it. You'd be surprised how many people keep cash in the kitchen."

"And you took it?"

"Sure. I got a little over sixty dollars. Not enough to retire on, but it covered the cab and what I spent at the drugstore."

"Sixty dollars."

"More like sixty-five. Plus the bracelet."

"The bracelet?"

"Couldn't resist it," I said. "There was other jewelry that didn't tempt me at all, but this one bracelet-well, I'll show you in the morning."

"You'll show me in the morning."

"Sure. Don't let me forget."

"Jesus!"

"What's the matter?"

"You actually committed a burglary."

"Well, I'm a burglar, Carolyn."

"That's what I have to get used to. You're a burglar. You steal things out of people's homes. That's what burglars do. They steal things."

"As a general rule."

"You took the money because you needed it. Your own money was gone and you had to get away from the police and the money was there, so you took it."

"Right."

"And you took the bracelet because-Why'd you take the bracelet, Bernie?"

"Well-"