Afterward I got into my clothes while she lay in bed with her eyes closed. She'd taken her hair down when we'd walked in the door, just before she turned to come into my arms, and it was spread out on the pillow now the way it had been when I got my first look at her. She'd been naked then, too, but this time I didn't feel the need to cover her with the sheet. Somehow it no longer felt invasive to enjoy the view.

I was heading for the door when she said, "Bernie? How'd you know it was pink?"

I didn't know what she was talking about. The only pink thing I could think of at the moment…well, never mind.

"My shaver," she said. "The one he took. How'd you know it was pink?"

Oh, hell. "You said it was pink," I said.

"I did?"

"You must have."

"But I always thought of it as fuchsia. That's what the manufacturer called it, so if I described it that's what I would have said."

"Maybe you did, and I just registered it as pink."

"Yeah, but I don't think I did."

"Oh," I said. "Are you sure you didn't black it out? No, really, I may have just assumed it was pink. I don't think I've ever seen a woman's razor that wasn't. Do they even come in other colors?"

"Sure."

"Oh. I thought they were all pink. Why? What difference does it make?"

"No difference," she said, sleepily. "I just wondered, that's all."

Twenty-Six

The trouble with Thank God It's Friday, I've occasionally thought, is that it's all too often followed by Oh Rats It's The Weekend. Free time is only a godsend when you've got something interesting to do with it. If you've got nothing to do, decent weather lets you do it outdoors, and if you've got time on your hands at the beach or in the park, you may not even notice how bored you are. But when all it does is rain there's no escaping it.

It started raining an hour or two before dawn Saturday, just about the time I was getting out of a cab on West End Avenue. Edgar was manning the door, and he greeted me with a warm smile and an umbrella, though without a mustache. He told me I hadn't had any visitors, and I was glad to hear it.

I went to bed, and when I got up it was still raining, and the apologetic young woman on the local news channel said it was likely to keep on doing just that until Monday morning at the earliest. The sports guy said something about dampened enthusiasms, and the anchorman groaned, and I turned off the set.

I went out for breakfast, although what they were serving by then was lunch. Whatever they wanted to call it, I ate an omelet and drank some coffee and read theTimes. The news was boring or horrible or both, and the movie listings held nothing that I felt like seeing.

When I got home the phone was ringing. It was Carolyn, reporting that no one had broken in to raid the bathtub while she slept. "But don't think I didn't check," she said, "and I didn't just lift the lid. I stuck my arm down into the Kitty Litter and made sure there were bags under there."

"I'm surprised you didn't haul them out and count the money."

"I might have, if I'd thought of it. Listen, when can we get rid of it?"

"Get rid of it?"

"You know what I mean. Oh, before I forget-I don't know if you're planning to open up the bookstore today, but I fed your cat, so don't let him con you into opening a second can for him."

"That cinches it," I said. "Nobody's going to brave a downpour to buy a secondhand book. I'm not going to bother opening up. How about you? You doing any business?"

"I'm not even trying. I decided to give myself a mental health day. And no, I didn't make a special trip just to feed Raffles. I had some appointments booked, and I needed to call them and cancel. They were relieved, because who wants to take out a dog on a day like this?"

"The Mets are rained out at Shea," I said, "and I couldn't find a movie I want to see."

"There's always the John Sandford. Oh, you left it down here. And you've got another copy at the store, don't you? But you're not going there. Well, as of last night you're in the chips, Bern. Do you feel rich enough to buy another copy?"

"Rich enough, but not crazy enough. I don't want three copies. I've only got two eyes."

"And one pair of lips to move. You should have taken my copy along with you last night. In fact I thought you did, but it's right here where you left it."

"I didn't want to carry it around."

"What, carry? Didn't you just get in a cab?"

"Right."

She thought about it. "But you didn't go straight home."

"Right again."

"Oh, that's right-you said you were going to a bar. You also said you weren't going to get drunk."

"And I didn't. And I know you're going to find this contrary to nature, but all I had was one drink."

"So you got home at a reasonable hour."

"No," I said, "because I didn't go straight home from the bar."

"Oh, God. Don't tell me you went on the prowl again, not after the haul we made last night. You'd have to be out of your mind."

"I went on the prowl," I said, "but not to burgle."

"What else would you…oh, I get it. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, did you get lucky?"

"A gentleman never tells," I said. "Yes, I got lucky."

"Anybody I know?"

"Almost."

"Almost? What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, she works at a law firm at 45th and Madison," I said, "but not as a paralegal. She's a full-fledged lawyer, insofar as lawyers get fledged, and she's in the same firm with GurlyGurl."

"That's impossible."

"Why? Because there are eight million people in New York?"

"It's just a pretty big coincidence, that's all. I have a Date-a-Dyke date with one woman, and the same night you get to go home with somebody from the same law firm."

"I gather it's a good-sized firm. Even so, it's a pretty big coincidence. But I know a bigger one."

"What's that?"

"She took me home to her apartment," I said, "but what she didn't know was that I'd been there before."

"You'd been to her apartment but she didn't know it. Oh, for God's sake. Don't tell me."

"Okay."

"Are you kidding?Tell me!"

I told her in person, but before I made the trip downtown I called 1-800-FLOWERS, then hung up while they were telling me my call might be monitored. She lived in a brownstone, with no doorman and a grouch for a downstairs neighbor, so I didn't want to send flowers unless I knew she'd be home to receive them.

So I called her and caught her on her way out the door. She had a wedding to go to out on the island and she was running late. "But I thought it might be you," she said, "so I picked up the phone."

I told her I just wanted to say what a good time I'd had, and she said the same, and I suggested dinner the following evening. She said she'd be staying over that night, and there was a brunch on Sunday she was supposed to go to, and it was hard to say how late it would run, or whether she'd get a ride back or have to take the train. We left it that she'd call when she got in, or knew when she was going to get in, and if it wasn't too late and I hadn't made other plans, we'd get together.

So I didn't have to call 1-800-FLOWERS after all. No point-they'd only waste their fragrance on the desert air.

The way it was raining I'd have been happy to take a cab to Carolyn's, but enough other New Yorkers felt the same way to drop the number of empty cabs below the Mendoza line. I couldn't find one, and I didn't waste too much time trying. I had my umbrella, and it kept me dry all the way to the subway.

"It's a pretty big coincidence that they both work at the same place," Carolyn said, "but it's not a coincidence you went home with her. Because you were looking for her, weren't you?"