“Yes, him and a lot of others.”

“Then there must have been overcrowding among those released at the parole offices.”

“Exactly. He and others, with no record of violent crimes, were discharged from parole, an unintended consequence of which is that Mr. Jones, not being on parole, but a free man, can work for a locksmith again. He can even apply for a license, having served an apprenticeship before the law caught up with his financial indiscretions.”

“So, you’re canvassing all the locksmiths on the East Side?”

“Down to Fourteenth Street.”

Stone sighed. “Call me when that hen lays an egg.” He hung up.

44

SOFIA/MARIA GOT OFF the train and grabbed a cab to Marv’s apartment. He was surprised to see her. “I thought you’d be gone for a week.”

“I got lucky and made a good score.”

“How good?”

“Good enough for it to be dangerous to keep on. They were looking for me. I changed trains and came back.”

“I’m glad you had a good score, because I’m scraping bottom,” he said.

She produced a wad of bills and handed it to him. “There’s five grand. Now you can take me out to dinner.”

—

SHE CHOSE an elegant Italian place on the East Side, Caravaggio, where they knew her and gave her an excellent table. Menus were brought and drinks ordered. “Try the osso buco,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“A calf’s shank, cooked a long time, served with risotto.”

“Okay.”

—

AN HOUR LATER they ordered brandy. “Okay,” she said, “why are you running on empty?”

“I had the Barrington place set up to get cleaned out. The pictures alone are worth a couple of hundred grand, at least.”

“What happened?”

“A lot of security equipment suddenly appeared. The cops were all over me both times.”

“You went there twice? You must be nuts.”

“I was getting desperate for money.”

“Do you know if you got made?”

“I was talking to Butch in Central Park, and two cops rumbled me. I outran them, but I think they must know what I look like.”

“If they know what you look like, they know who you are. Who’s Butch?”

“A guy I knew in the joint. He put me on to the place at the Fairleigh.”

“What’s the Fairleigh?”

He told her the story.

“Sounds like they’ve got cameras there, too.”

“I guess.”

“What did you hope to find there?”

“Butch and I stole some checks and cleared three hundred grand with them.”

“And now you’re skint? What happened to the money?”

Curly looked sheepish. “The ponies took it from me.”

“You’re starting to look like a bad risk, Marv. I think you’d better get out of town—for a long time.”

“Got any ideas?”

“You say Barrington’s place has a lot of art? How do you know it’s worth anything?”