"The one in your apartment."

"Oddly enough," I said, "that's the very one I used."

"In that case," he said, "do you suppose maybe you can tell me what the hell you were doin' in the East Thirties?"

I'll admit it, the question shook me. Here's what I'd figured-someone had pulled some kind of break-in somewhere in Riverdale, and some eyewitness, presented with a book of mugshots of known offenders, had picked me out as someone who'd been seen lurking in the neighborhood. But any lurking I'd done had been in the early evening, and Ray said he was only interested in where I'd been afterLaw amp; Order.

It didn't seem like anything to worry about. One witness who thought he might have seen me in Riverdale a few hours before a break-in-well, I hadn't done anything, and wouldn't have left prints or trace evidence, so I couldn't believe Ray expected to get anywhere with this. Most likely he was just going through the motions.

And then he mentioned the East Thirties.

Where the hell did that come from? The only person who could have reported the break-in at the Creeley apartment was Barbara Creeley herself, and there was no way she'd think she was the victim of a burglar. The odds were she was still deep in the throes of a booze-and-Roofies hangover and hadn't yet discovered that her class ring was missing, not to mention the very cold cash from her refrigerator. When she did, she could only assume it had been taken by the miserable son of a bitch who'd brought her home. If she reported it-and I could see why she might not want to-and if she had any memory at all of the pickup, it would be Lover Boy's description she'd give the police. It certainly wouldn't be mine, as the woman had never laid eyes on me.

I didn't know what to say, but I had to say something. "The East Thirties," I said. "In Manhattan, you mean."

"No, in East Jesus, Kansas."

"The East Thirties. You mean Kips Bay, over by the East River?"

"Try a little north and west of there," he said. "Try Murray Hill."

"Murray Hill," I said. "Murray Hill. I went to school with a fellow named Murray Hillman, but-"

"We know you were there, Bernie."

"I suppose you've got a witness."

He shook his head. "Better. What we got is photographic evidence. Ever hear of security cameras?"

Of course I'd heard of them, and they were one of the reasons I'd stayed away from apartment buildings. But there hadn't been a security camera in the Feldmaus-Creeley house. I'd looked, I always look, and I'd have spotted it before it could have spotted me.

"You're bluffing," I said, "and I don't know why, because I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done. Which I think you really ought to tell me before we go any further."

"You think so, do you?"

"I really do, Ray."

"Whatever you say, Bernie. Sometime a little after midnight a couple of mopes walked into the lobby of one of them white brick apartment buildings on the corner of Third Avenue an' 37th Street. They overpowered the doorman, duct-taped his feet and ankles, slapped another piece of tape over his mouth, an' locked him in the parcel room. Then they went around to all the security cameras an' opened 'em up an' took out the tape."

"It seems like a lot to go through," I said, "to steal some videotapes."

"Go ahead an' be a wiseass, see what it gets you. Next thing they did was go upstairs to the penthouse apartment, which was on the top floor."

"Good place for it."

"They forced the door, and overpowered the man and woman inside the apartment, who'd sublet the place as Mr. and Mrs. Lyle Rogovin, which may or may not have been their real names. They trussed them up with duct tape, same as the doorman, an' went to work. There was a safe in the Rogovin apartment, big heavy monster, not what you'd expect to find in a residence. They got it open and cleaned it out and left."

"And you think I had something to do with it."

"I know damn well you did, Bernie."

"Because you know me, and you know how I operate, and I have a long history of overpowering doormen and binding them with duct tape and forcing my way into apartments when the owners are home."

"No, you've never done anythin' like that in your life."

"Of course not," I said, "so why are you wasting my time and yours with this nonsense?"

"And mine," Carolyn said.

"You want to go back where you belong so you can hose down a Rottweiler," he told her, "feel free. No, it's not your style, Bernie. An' I don't think for a minute that you roughed up the doorman or held a gun on the Rogovins."

"Then why on earth-"

"What I figure you did," he said, "what I flat outknow you did, is open the safe. That box was a Mosler, an' it took real talent to get into it, an' if there's one thing you've got a shitload of it's talent. In one area, anyway. I don't know if you can carry a tune or draw a straight line, but you can open any lock ever made without breakin' a sweat. That's what they wanted you for, an' that's why you were all over the neighborhood, walkin' around as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs." He glanced over at Raffles, who was once again sunning himself in the window. "No offense," he said. "You figure that's how he lost his tail, Bernie? Got hisself run over by a rockin' chair?"

"He's a Manx," I said. "He was born that way."

"An' I guess you were born that way yourself. With a talent for locks, I mean, not that you were born without a tail, although that's probably true too, now that I come to think of it."

"Ray," I said, "am I missing something? Besides a tail, I mean. What I don't get is where I come into all this. I know, you just told me, I'm the guy they brought in to open the safe. But why me?"

"They heard you were good."

"No, what makesyou think it was me?"

"I told you, Bernie. We got your pitcher."

"My pitcher? Oh, my picture."

"That's what I just said."

"Right. But you said they took the tape. The security cameras were out of commission."

"In that buildin', yeah. But not in the rest of the neighborhood. Jesus, Bernie, you walked past an ATM machine at the Chase bank at the corner of Third and 34th. An' you walked past a whole lot of buildin's. You must have been walkin' around for an hour or so, waitin' to get the call to go over to the penthouse an' crack the safe. What you got to remember, Bernie, is that they got these cameras all over the place. They're not just in lobbies an' elevators. You walk down a street, any street, you might as well go ahead an' smile, 'cause it's a good bet you're onCandid Camera."

"You say you've got all these pictures of me. You know, security camera pictures always tend to be blurry and out of focus. How do you even know it's me?"

"You want me to tell you what you were wearin'? Khakis an' a blue blazer. An' a polo shirt, but not striped like the one you got on today. It was a solid color shirt, but don't ask me the color, 'cause that I couldn't tell you."

"You've got pictures of me," I said, "but all I'm doing is walking around, and the last I heard that was still legal. The pictures don't establish that I was doing anything wrong."

"They didn't," he said. "Not until you opened your mouth and lies started pourin' out of it."

"Huh?"

"I asked you where you were last night," he said, "an' you said you were home, watchin' TV an' goin' to bed early an' never stirrin' except to pee. Right in your own bathroom, you said. You recall sayin' somethin' along those lines?"

"I wasn't under oath," I said, "so it's not perjury, but you're right. I lied."

"Now tell me somethin' I don't know."

"The reason I lied," I lied, "is I was ashamed to admit where I was." I turned to Carolyn. "Because you're here," I said.

"What's Shorty here got to do with it?"