Jimmy the Kid

"I'm sorry," Dortmunder said. "And the time before that, you remember what that was? That other time I listened to you? That goddam Balabomo Emerald, remember that one?"

"If you're blaming me for any of that," Kelp said, talking nasally because he was holding his nose, "I think it's very unfair."

"If I'm unfair," Dortmunder pointed out, "you don't want to be around me." And he turned away again and walked on.

Kelp trailed along, touching his nose and loudly sniffing. The two of them crossed to the last roof, and Dortmunder opened the door leading to the stairs. He went down, followed by Kelp, to an open, concrete-floored area with half a dozen dusty cars parked in it. Walking across the floor, with Kelp still behind him, he went down a concrete ramp past another parking level with more dusty cars, and at the third level down walked out past a lot of less dusty cars to a brown Volkswagen Microbus with red side curtains. Kelp, still talking nasally, said, "Where'd you get that?"

"I stole it," Dortmunder said. "Because you weren't around, nothing went wrong. I figured to be filling it with furs right now."

"That's not my fault," Kelp said. "You were on the wrong floor."

"It was because you were around," Dortmunder told him. "You're my jinx, I don't even have to know you're there and you screw me up."

"That isn't fair, Dortmunder," Kelp said. "Now, you know that." He gestured with both hands.

"You're bleeding on your shirt," Dortmunder told him.

"Oh, damn." Kelp closed his fingers over his nose again. "Listen," he twanged, "lemme just tell you about this thing."

"If I listen to you-" Dortmunder started, and then stopped and shook his head. Sometimes there just wasn't anything to be done with a bad hand but play it. He knew that, if anybody did. "Screw it," he said. "Get in the car."

Behind the hand holding his nose, Kelp beamed. "You won't regret this, Dortmunder," he said, and ran around to the other side of the Microbus.

"I regret it already," Dortmunder said. But he got into the Microbus and started the engine and drove it down and out of the garage. A man in a green work shirt and green work pants sitting on a kitchen chair out on the sidewalk did not look up as they went by. Kelp, looking out at that man, said, "Isn't he the garage man?"

"Yes."

"How come you can just drive in and out?"

"Twenty dollars," Dortmunder said. His expression was grim. "That's something else you cost me," he said.

"Aw, now, Dortmunder, you're just in a bad mood."

"No kidding."

"Tomorrow you'll think it over," Kelp said, "you'll realize it isn't right to blame me for everything."

"I don't blame you for everything," Dortmunder said.

"I don't blame you for the Second World War and I don't

blame you for the Johnstown flood. But everything else I

do blame you for." -

"Tomorrow you'll feel different," Kelp said.

Dortmunder glanced at him, to give him an unbelieving look, and said, "You're bleeding on yourself again."

"Oh." Kelp put his head back, and stared at the Volkswagen's roof.

"You might as well tell me the caper," Dortmunder said, "so I can say no and get it over with."

"It's not like that," Kelp said, holding his nose and talking to the roof. "I got nothing to tell you exactly. It's more to show you."

Like the emerald. "Where is it?"

With the hand that wasn't holding his nose, Kelp reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a paperback book. "It's this," he said.

Dortmunder was approaching an intersection with a green light. He made his turn, drove a block, and stopped at a red light. Then he looked at the book Kelp was waving. He said, "What's that?"

"It's a book."

"I know it's a book. What is it?"

"It's for you to read," Kelp said. "Here, take it." He was still staring at the roof and holding his nose, and he was merely waving the book in Dortmunder's direction.

So Dortmunder took the book. The title was Child Heist, and the author was somebody named Richard Stark. "Sounds like crap," Dortmunder said.

"Just read it," Kelp said.

"Why?"

"Read it. Then we'll talk."

Dortmunder hefted the book in his hand. A skinny paperback. "I don't get the point," he said.

"I don't want to say anything till after you read it," Kelp said. "Okay? I mean, after all, you gave me a nosebleed, you can anyway read a book."

Dortmunder thought of saying several things about furs, but he didn't. The traffic light was green. "Maybe," he said, and tossed the paperback behind him, and drove on.

2

Stan Murch made his call from a diner pay phone. "Maximilian's Used Cars, Miss Caroline speaking."

"Hi, Harriet. Max there?"

"To whom am I speaking, please?"

"This is Stan."

"Oh, hi, Stan. One moment, please, Max is explaining the guarantee to a dissatisfied customer."