Read The Burglar Who Painted Like Mondrian for Free Online Page B

noticed.”
    “Well, you said yourself that you’d had a few drinks more than usual to celebrate the full moon. Maybe—”
    “I wasn’t that bad, Bern.”
    “Okay.”
    “And he never does that anyway. Neither of the cats ever tries to get out. Look, you could say this and I could say that and we’d be going around Robin Hood’s barn because I know for a fact the cat was snatched. I got a phone call.”
    “When?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what time I got home and I don’t know how much time I spent looking for the cat and running the electric can opener. There was a little brandy and I finally poured some for myself and sat down with it and the phone rang.”
    “And?”
    She poured another drink, a short one, and paused with the glass halfway to her lips. She said, “Bern? It wasn’t you, was it?”
    “Huh?”
    “I mean I could see how it could be a joke that got out of hand, but if it was, tell me now, huh? If you tell me now there won’t be any hard feelings, but if you don’t tell me now all bets are off.”
    “You think I took your cat.”
    “No I don’t. I don’t think you’ve got that kind of an asshole sense of humor. But people do wacky things, and who else could unlock all those locks and lock ’em up again on the way out? So all I want you to do is say, ‘Yes, Carolyn, I took your cat,’ or ‘No, you little idiot, I didn’t take your cat,’ and then we can get on with it.”
    “No, you little idiot, I didn’t take your cat.”
    “Thank God. Except if you had I’d know the cat was safe.” She looked at the glass in her hand as if seeing it for the first time. “Did I just pour this?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well, I must have known what I was doing,” she said, and drank it. “The phone call.”
    “Right. Tell me about it.”
    “I’m not sure if it was a man or a woman. It was either a man making his voice high or a woman making her voice husky, and I couldn’t tell you which. Whoever it was had an accent like Peter Lorre except really phony. ‘Ve haff ze poosycat.’ That kind of accent.”
    “Is that what he said? ‘Ve haff ze poosycat’?”
    “Or words to that effect. If I want to see him again, di dah di dah di dah di dah.”
    “What are all the di dahs about?”
    “You’re not gonna believe this, Bern.”
    “He asked for money?”
    “A quarter of a million dollars or I’ll never see my cat again.”
    “A quarter of a—”
    “Million dollars. Right.”
    “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
    “Dollars. Right.”
    “For—”
    “A cat. Right.”
    “I’ll be a—”
    “Child of a dog. Right. So will I.”
    “Well, it’s nuts,” I said. “In the first place the cat’s not worth any real money. Is he show quality?”
    “Probably, but so what? You can’t breed him.”
    “And he’s not a television star like Morris. He’s just a cat.”
    “Just my cat,” she said. “Just an animal I happen to love.”
    “You want a hankie?”
    “What I want is to stop being an idiot. Shit, I can’t help it. Gimme the hankie. Where am I gonna get a quarter of a million bucks, Bern?”
    “You could start by taking all your old deposit bottles back to the deli.”
    “They add up, huh?”
    “Little grains of water, little drops of sand. That’s another thing that’s crazy. Who would figure you could come up with that kind of money? Your apartment’s cozy, but Twenty-two Arbor Court isn’t the Charlemagne. Anyone bright enough to get in and out and lock up after himself—he really locked up after himself?”
    “Swear to God.”
    “Who has keys to your place?”
    “Just you.”
    “What about Randy Messinger?”
    “She wouldn’t pull this kind of shit. And anyway the Fox lock is new since she and I were lovers. Remember when you installed it for me?”
    “And you locked it when you left, and unlocked it when you came back.”
    “Definitely.”
    “You didn’t just turn the cylinder. The bar moved and everything.”
    “Bernie, trust me. It was