The Burglar Who Painted Like Mondrian by Lawrence Block Page A

wanted Gordon to lend them his Mondrian.”
    “And they picked it up this afternoon?”
    “Why, is that when it left its spot on the wall? If you knew it was gone this afternoon, why did you come for it tonight?”
    “I don’t know when it left. I just know it was here yesterday.”
    “How do you know that? Never mind, I don’t think you want to tell me that. I may not remember this correctly—I wasn’t paying too much attention—but I think Gordon was having the painting reframed for the exhibition. He had it framed in aluminum like the rest of the ones here and he wanted some other kind of frame that would enclose the canvas without covering up its edges. Mondrian was one of those painters who continue the design of the painting right around the sides of the canvas, and Gordon wanted that part to show because it was technically part of the work, but he didn’t want to display a completely unframed canvas. I don’t know how he was going to have it done, but, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened to the painting. What time is it?”
    “Ten minutes past one.”
    “I have to go. Whether he’s coming back or not, I have to go. Are you going to steal anything else? Other paintings or anything else you can find?”
    “No. Why?”
    “I just wondered. Do you want to leave first?”
    “Not particularly.”
    “Oh?”
    “It’s my chivalrous nature. Not just the old principle of ladies first, but I’d worry about you forever if I didn’t know you got out safely. How are you going to get out, by the way?”
    “I won’t even need my credit card. Oh, you mean how’ll I get out of the building? The same way I got in. I’ll ride down in the elevator, smile sweetly, and let the doorman get me a cab.”
    “Where do you live?”
    “A cab ride away.”
    “So do I, but I think we should take separate cabs. You don’t want to tell me where you live.”
    “Not really, no. I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell burglars my home address. You might make off with the family silver.”
    “Not since the price drop. It’s barely worth stealing these days. Suppose I wanted to see you again?”
    “Just keep opening doors. You never know what you’ll find on the other side.”
    “Isn’t that the truth? Could be the lady, could be the tiger.”
    “Could be both.”
    “Uh-huh. You’ve got sharp claws, incidentally.”
    “You didn’t seem to mind.”
    “I wasn’t objecting, just commenting. I don’t even know your name.”
    “Just think of me as the Dragon Lady.”
    “I didn’t notice anything draggin’. My name is Bernie.”
    She cocked her head, gave the matter some thought. “Bernie the Burglar. I don’t suppose there’s any harm in your knowing my first name, is there?”
    “Besides, you could always make one up.”
    “Is that what you just did? But I couldn’t. I never lie.”
    “I understand that’s the best policy.”
    “That’s what I’ve always heard. My name is Andrea.”
    “Andrea. You know what I’d like to do, Andrea? I’d like to throw you right back down on the old Aubusson and have my way with you.”
    “My, that doesn’t sound bad at all. If we had world enough and time, but we really don’t. I don’t, anyway. I have to get out of here.”
    “It would be nice,” I said, “if there were a way I could get in touch with you.”
    “The thing is I’m married.”
    “But occasionally indiscreet.”
    “Occasionally. But discreetly indiscreet, if you get my drift. Now if you were to tell me how to get in touch with you —”
    “Uh.”
    “You see? You’re a burglar and you don’t want to run the risk that I’ll get an attack of conscience or catch a bad case of the crazies and go to the police. And I don’t want to run a similar sort of risk. Maybe we should just leave it as is, ships that pass in the night, all that romantic stuff. That way we’re both safe.”
    “You could be right. But sometime down the line we might decide the risk’s worth