The Burglar in the Library by Lawrence Block Page A

here when she arrives in the company of a man.”
    “So you’re just good friends.”
    “That’s exactly what we are, as a matter of fact. Not that it’s any of your business. Now it’s my turn to ask a question. What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were getting married today.”
    “Dakin and I were married this afternoon.”
    “What a coincidence. He surprised you by taking you to the same place I’d picked.”
    “No, of course not.”
    “I didn’t think so.”
    “I suggested it,” she said. “You made it sound so wonderful I couldn’t think of anything else. We had reservations in Aruba, but I managed to convince Dakin that we’d have ever so much more fun coming here. And luckily they had a room available.”
    “Not with twin beds, by any chance?”
    “With a double bed, of course. Dakin’s in it now, sleeping like a lamb.”
    “I’m surprised you’re not with him.”
    “I was,” she said, lowering her eyes. “You know what they say about lovemaking, that it puts men to sleep and wakes women up.”
    “As opposed to the idea of lovemaking,” I said, “which wakes men up and gives women a headache.”
    “I couldn’t sleep,” she went on, “and I knew I had to find you and talk to you. You can’t imagine what a shock it was to run into you.”
    “Oh, yes I can.”
    “You know, I rather assumed it was your room they’d given us, that you’d canceled your reservation after our conversation. I never dreamed you’d come after all.”
    “Well, I never figured you’d show up. I thought this was the last place on earth I’d run into you.”
    “You seemed so devastated the last time we were together. I was afraid of what you might do.”
    “Like what? Stick my head in the oven? Take holy orders?”
    “Nothing that extreme. But I thought you might be in something of a funk for a while. I certainly didn’t think you’d appear all coupled up with another woman. How do I know you haven’t been married all along?”
    “At this point,” I said, “why on earth would you care?”
    “Because I never date married men, for one thing.”
    “Neither do I,” I said, “or married women, either, so maybe you ought to scoot back upstairs where you belong.”
    “Why, Bernie!”
    “I’m serious, Lettice. You’re a married woman now. We shouldn’t be sitting here in the dark together.”
    “If it were any brighter in here,” she said, “I’d need to put on sunscreen. Bernie, you’re furious with me, aren’t you?”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “For one thing, you’re glaring at me. You and that animal.”
    Had Raffles joined us? I looked around for him.
    “On the wall,” she said. “That poor creature that someone shot and stuffed.”
    “He’s immortal,” I said. “He’s supposed to be a springbok, but he sure looks like an oryx to me. You can’t really blame him for looking disgruntled. Someone shot him. But why should I be furious?”
    “Because you really cared for me, and you truly were devastated when I told you I was getting married. And of course you’re furious, you’re positively seething. Bernie, that’s so sweet!”
    “It is?”
    She nodded. “And you came here this weekend to prove to yourself that you don’t care, but of course it proves just the opposite, doesn’t it?”
    “It does?”
    “You know it does.” She leaned toward me and laid her cool hand against my cheek. “Bernie,” she said earnestly, “I’m not saying that we can never ever be together again. But this weekend is out of the question. You must understand that.”
    “Huh?”
    “I’ve been married for less than twelve hours,” she said. “I’m on my honeymoon. For God’s sake,I just left my husband’s bed. You can’t expect me to—”
    “To what?”
    “Oh, Bernie,” she said. “When we’re both back in the city, when some of these powerful emotions become a little easier to deal with, who knows what might happen?”
    “Not me,” I said. “I don’t know