Jimmy the Kid

Not keeping it low, Dortmunder said, "I'm not going up there, you're going away. I'm going to stay down here and do my work."

"You're on the wrong floor," Kelp whispered.

Dortmunder, bending down and feeling around for his chisel, frowned and looked up at the vague figure against the gray-red clouds. "I am not," he said.

"It's-there's an extra-that's the basement down there?'

"The what?" Dortmunder's hand found the chisel. He straightened, holding it, and frowned down into impenetrable darkness. There was another story down there, he was sure of it. So this was the second floor.

But Kelp whispered, "Why do you think I'm waiting up here?. Count down from the roof if you don't believe me. You're gonna break into the store."

"I'm just in the same block with you," Dortmunder said, "and things get screwed up."

A light went on in a window, off to the left. Kelp, more urgently, whispered, "Come up here! You want to get caught?"

"Okay, fella," the voice shouted, "you asked for it. The cops are on the way."

Another voice yelled, "Why don't you people shut up?"

The first voice yelled, "It isn't me! It's those other clowns!"

"You got the biggest voice I can hear!" shouted voice number two.

"How would you like to go screw yourself?" voice number one wanted to know.

Another yellow window appeared. A third voice yelled, "How would the two of you like to go drown yourselves?"

"Dortmunder," Kelp whispered. "Come on, come on." Voice number two was making a suggestion to voice number three. Voice number one was yelling to somebody named Mary to call the cops again. A voice number four entered the chorus, and two more windows sprang out of the darkness. It was getting very bright back here.

Dortmunder, grumbling, muttering, annoyed into futile silence, went down on one knee and stolidly repacked his canvas bag. "A simple burglary," he told himself. "Kelp shows up. Can't even do a simple burglary." Around him the neighborhood argument raged. People in pajamas were leaning out of windows, shaking their fists at one another. Dortmunder zipped up the bag and got to his feet. "A simple quiet little peaceful job," he muttered. "Kelp shows up." Carrying the bag, he started back up the fire escape.

Kelp was waiting, one flight up. There was another black metal door there, standing open, and Kelp made host like gestures for Dortmunder to go in, but Dortmunder ignored him and went right on by. Going past, he caught a glimpse of furs hanging on racks inside there; so he really had been on the wrong floor. That didn't improve his disposition.

Kelp said, "Where you going?" There wasn't any point in whispering now, not with everybody else in the neighborhood shouting at once, so Kelp spoke in an ordinary voice.

Dortmunder didn't answer. He went on up the fire escape. He became aware after half a flight that Kelp was following him, and he considered turning around and telling him to go away, or possibly turning around and hitting Kelp on the head with the canvas bag, but he didn't do it. He didn't have the strength, he didn't have a positive enough attitude. He was feeling defeatist again, the way he always did around Kelp. So he just kept plodding up the fire escape stairs to the roof.

At the top he turned left and headed across the roofs toward the parking garage. He knew Kelp was trotting after him, but he tried to ignore the fact. He also tried to ignore it when Kelp caught up with him and walked next to him, panting and saying, "Don't go so fast, will ya?"

Dortmunder went faster.

"You were going in the wrong floor," Kelp said. "Is that my fault? I got there ahead of you, I jimmied the door, I thought I'd help."

"Don't help," Dortmunder said. "That's all I ask, don't help."

"If you'd stopped at the right floor," Kelp said, "I wouldn't have had to call you. We could have talked inside. I could have helped you carry the furs."

"Don't help," Dortmunder said.

"You went to the wrong floor."

Dortmunder stopped. He was one roof shy of the parking garage. He turned and looked at Kelp and said, "All right. One question. You've got a caper? You want me in on it?"

Kelp hesitated. It could be seen that he'd had a different plan in mind for broaching his subject, a method more circuitous and subtle. But it wasn't to be, and Dortmunder watched Kelp gradually accept the fact. Kelp sighed. "Yes," he said.

"The answer is no," Dortmunder said. He turned and headed again for the parking garage.

Hurrying after him, Kelp protested, "Why? You can't even listen?"

Dortmunder stopped again, and Kelp ran into him. Kelp was shorter than Dortmunder, and his nose ran into Dortmunder's shoulder. "Ow!" he said.

"I'll tell you why," Dortmunder said.

Kelp pressed a hand to his nose. "That hurt," he said.

"I'm sorry," Dortmunder said. "The last time I listened to you, I wound up running all over Long Island with a stolen bank, and what did I get out of it? A head cold."

"I think I've got a nosebleed," Kelp said. He was tenderly touching his nose with his fingertips.