"Shut up."

I shut up.

She said, "You don't know who I am, do you? I thought my last name would tip you off. Rabbit Margate is my brother."

"Rabbit Margate."

"Right."

"I don't know who that is."

"George Edward Margate, but everybody called him Rabbit. They arrested him this afternoon and charged him with burglary and murder. They say he killed Wanda Tuesday night. My brother never killed anybody."

"Neither did I. Look-"

"Shut up. Either you killed her or you know who did. And you're gonna cop to it. You think I'm letting my kid brother go up for a murder he didn't commit? The hell I am. Either you're gonna confess or I'm gonna shoot you dead."

The phone rang again. She didn't pay any attention to it, and I didn't pay it much mind myself beyond idly wondering who it might be. Was it my caller of a few minutes ago? Was it the person whose call I'd failed to answer when I went out to dinner? Was it the one who'd hung up on me, or the one of the night before who wanted to buy the V-Nickel? Or all of the above, or none of the above?

I decided it didn't matter much, and the ringing stopped, and I said, "George Edward Margate. Rabbit Margate. So you're Rabbit's sister Marilyn."

"Then you do know him!"

"Nope. Never heard the name until tonight. But now I know who he is. He's the one who hit the Colcannon place Tuesday and left the radio on."

"You were there. You just admitted it."

"And Rabbit was there. Wasn't he?"

Her expression was wary. "Where do you get off asking the questions? You're not the cops."

"No, I'm not. I'm not the killer, either. I didn't kill anyone Tuesday night. And neither did your brother."

"You're saying he didn't do it."

"That's right. He didn't. He burgled the place though, didn't he? He went in through the skylight in the bedroom. Was he all by himself?"

"No. Wait a minute. You don't get to ask me questions, for chrissake. I don't have to say he was there and I don't have to say he was with somebody."

"You don't have to say anything. It's all right, Marilyn. Rabbit didn't kill anybody." I took a breath. It seemed like a good time for disarming candor. "I was there," I said, "after Rabbit and his partner had come and gone. The Colcannons weren't home when they burgled the place, and they weren't back yet when I was there, either."

"You can't prove that."

"Nobody can prove I was there in the first place, either. And I can prove I didn't meet the Colcannons, because Herbert Colcannon had a nice long look at me through a one-way mirror the other morning and he couldn't identify me."

She nodded slowly. "That's what they said, that there was another suspect named Rhodenbarr but he was cleared because Colcannon hadn't seen him before. But he identified Rabbit and I know he never saw Rabbit, so I thought maybe it was a mistake or you paid somebody off or something. I don't even know what I thought. All I knew was my brother was in trouble for something he didn't do, and I figured if I got the person who really did it-"

"But I'm not that person, Marilyn."

"Then who is?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I, and-" She broke off abruptly and looked at the gun in her hand as if wondering how it had gotten there. "It's loaded," she said.

"I figured it was."

"I almost shot you. I wanted to. As if shooting you would solve everything for Rabbit."

"It would have solved everything for me. But not in a positive way."

"Yeah. Look, I-"

Knock knock knock!

No question who was knocking this time. I cautioned Marilyn with a finger to my lips, then approached her and put those same lips inches from her gold teardrop earring. "Cops," I whispered. I pointed to the bathroom door and she didn't waste time asking questions. She scooted for the bathroom, gun in hand, and she was just closing the door as my latest unannounced guest repeated his knocking.

I asked who it was. "It's who you thought it was, Bern. Open the door, huh?"

I unlocked my locks and admitted Ray Kirschmann. He was wearing the same suit he'd worn yesterday and now it was wet, which didn't improve the fit any. "Rain," he said heavily, and removed his hat, holding it so that all the water which had collected in the brim could spill onto my floor.

"Thanks," I said.

"Huh?"

"I've had this problem with the floorboards drying out. I was hoping somebody'd come along and water them. What you could do sometime, Ray, is you could call first."

"I did. Line was busy."

"Funny. I wasn't on the phone." Maybe he'd tried while someone else was ringing. "What brings you?"

"The goodness of my heart," he said. "These days I been doin' you nothin' but favors. Drivin' you to your store twice. And stoppin' in tonight to let you know you're in the clear on the Colcannon job. They already got one of the guys who did it."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Guy named George Margate. Young guy, but he's got a pretty good sheet on him already. Two, three busts for B and E. Never roughed anybody up before, but you know the young ones. They're not what you'd call stable. Maybe his partner was a rough piece of work, or maybe they had drugs in 'em. We found a Baggie full of marijuana in his refrigerator."

"The killer weed."

"Yeah. The marijuana's not what hangs him. It's what else we found at his place. He's been livin' in two rooms on Tenth Avenue in the Forties, maybe a block and a half from the tenement he grew up in. Hell's Kitchen, except you're supposed to call it Clinton now so's people'll forget it's a slum. We tossed his two rooms and he's got half of Colcannon's house packed away there. Silver, Jesus, he had a whole service for twelve in sterling plus all of these bowls and platters. Worth a fortune."

"I remember when it was hardly worth stealing," I said nostalgically. "Then it went from a dollar twenty-nine an ounce to forty dollars an ounce. I remember when gold was less than that."

"Yeah. Found some furs, too. Floor-length ranch mink, marten jacket, something else I don't remember. Straight off the list we had from Colcannon, right down to the furriers' labels. All told, we found better'n half of what Colcannon reported as missin', plus some stuff he never listed, because who's got a complete inventory of everythin' right at his fingertips? We figure they split the loot down the middle and the other half's at the partner's place, unless they fenced it already."

"Who's the partner?"

"We don't know yet. He'll tell us when he dopes out that it's the only way he's gonna pull short time, but right now he's James Cagney in every prison movie you ever saw."

"How did you get on to him, Ray?"

"Usual way. Somebody snitched. Maybe he was braggin' in the bars, or just lookin' good and showin' a lot of money, and somebody took two an' two an' put ' em together. Neighborhood he lives in, every third person on the street is a snitch, and the Colcannon job was close to home. What was it, a mile away? Mile and a half?"

I nodded. "Well," I said, "thanks for dropping by to tell me, Ray. I appreciate it."

"Actually," he said, "it's like the other day. I mostly came by to use your bathroom."

"It's out of order."

"Oh yeah?" He went on walking toward the door. "Sometimes these things fix themselves, you know? Or maybe I can fix it for you. I had an uncle was a plumber, showed me a thing or two some years back."

Had she locked the door? I held my breath and he tried the knob and it was locked.

"Door's stuck," he said.

"Must be the weather."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that goin' around. Old retired burglar like yourself, Bern, you oughta be able to get the door open for me."

"A man loses his touch."

"Isn't that just the truth." He walked from the bathroom door to my window and gazed out through the gloom. "I bet you could see the Trade Center," he said, "if the weather was half decent."