The Burglar Who Thought He Was Bogart by Lawrence Block Page A

sign. Did you get the celery tonic at Two Guys?”
    “No, I stopped at the deli.”
    “Because it goes really great with Cambodian food, doesn’t it?”
    “Like it was made for it.”
    We ate some more of the daily special, sipped some more celery tonic. Then she said, “Bern? What did you see last night?”
    “The Roaring Twenties,” I said.
    “Again? Didn’t you see that Monday night?”
    “You’re absolutely right,” I said. “They tend to run together in my mind.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “Conflict,” I said.
    “Conflict?”
    “And Brother Orchid. ”
    “I never heard of either of them.”
    “Actually, I may have seen Conflict years ago on late-night TV. It was vaguely familiar. Bogart’s in love with Alexis Smith, who’s his wife’s younger sister. He hurts his legs in a car crash, but then he hides the fact that he’s recovered so that he can kill his wife.”
    “Bernie—”
    “Sydney Greenstreet’s the psychiatrist who sets a trap for him. See, the way he does it…You don’t care, do you?”
    “Not hugely.”
    “ Brother Orchid was pretty interesting. Edward G. Robinson was the star. He’s a gangster, and Bogart takes over the mob while Robinson’s in Europe. He comes back and Bogart’s men try to rub him out, and he escapes and takes shelter in a monastery, where he takes the name Brother Orchid and spends his time growing flowers.”
    “What did you do after the movie, Bern? Take shelter in a monastery?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean. You went out for coffee, right? Espresso for two at the little place down the block from the movie house.”
    “Right.”
    “And then you went home to your place, and Ilona went wherever Ilona goes. I’ve never met anybody named Ilona before. In fact the only Ilona I’ve ever heard of is Ilona Massey, and I wouldn’t know her if it weren’t for crossword puzzles. ‘Miss Massey, five letters.’ She’s right up there with Uta Hagen and Una Merkel and Ina Balin.”
    “Don’t forget Ima Hogg.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it. The two of you went your separate ways after the movie. Right?”
    I sighed. “Right.”
    “What’s going on, Bern?”
    “For God’s sake,” I said. “It’s the nineties, remember? Dating’s a whole new ballgame. People don’t jump in bed on the first date the way they used to. They take time, they get to know one another, they—”
    “Bern, look at me.”
    “I wasn’t avoiding your eyes.”
    “Of course you were, and I don’t blame you. ‘People don’t jump in bed on the first date.’ How many dates have you had with this woman?”
    “A few.”
    “Try fourteen.”
    “It can’t be that many.”
    “You’ve been out with her every night for two weeks. You’ve seen twenty-eight Humphrey Bogart movies. Twenty-eight! And the closest you’ve come to physical intimacy is when your hands bump into each other reaching for the popcorn.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “It’s not?”
    “Sometimes we hold hands during the picture.”
    “Be still my heart. Is it some sort of platonic thing, Bern? You’re soul mates and there’s no real physical attraction?”
    “No,” I said. “Believe me, that’s not it.”
    “Then what’s going on?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Have you just been playing it ultracool? Waiting for her to make the first move?”
    “No,” I said. “The first night I offered to see her home. I didn’t really have anything in mind beyond possibly kissing her good night, but she said no, she’d take her own cab, and I didn’t press it. I was just as glad. Why ride all the way across town just so I could ride all the way back again?”
    “Is that where she lives? On the East Side?”
    “I think so.”
    “You don’t know where she lives?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Not exactly?”
    “I mentioned that I lived just a few blocks from the Musette. And she said I was lucky, that she lived a long ways away.”
    “Didn’t you ask where?”
    “Of course I