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.