"Can't," I said.

"You've got a date?"

"The last date I can remember," I said, "is 1066."

"The Battle of Hastings?"

"If I'd been there," I said, "I'd have been on Harold's side. That's how well dating works for me."

"You could try the computer, you know."

"Yeah, right."

"And even if you don't, Bern, you'll meet someone. It's just a question of time."

"By the time I meet someone," I said, "I'll have forgotten what it is you're supposed to do with them. No, I haven't got a date tonight. I've got to go to work."

"Tonight? I thought that was Friday."

"Tonight too."

"But you're drinking, Bern."

"I'm not drinking alone, though, am I?"

She frowned. " Bern, you never have a drop of alcohol before you go out burgling. It's a firm rule of yours, and just about the only one."

"I don't play cards with men named Doc," I said, "or eat at places called Mom's."

"Or drink before you burgle."

"Or drink before I burgle," I agreed. "Three sound rules, I'd have to say."

She thought it over. "You're working tonight, but it's not going to involve breaking and entering."

"I shall not break," I said. "Neither shall I enter."

"Are you doing an appraisal?"

My antiquarian book business sometimes has me working evenings, appraising a client's library for insurance purposes or making an offer to a potential seller. But that wasn't what I had on tonight's agenda.

"It's burglary-related," I said, "and it demands a reasonably cool head, but not necessarily a sober one. I'm taking the subway up to Riverdale for a look at the Mapes estate."

"A reconnaissance mission. Do you want company?" She frowned. "But I'd have to be back by nine o'clock. This is gonna sound silly, but I really don't want to missThe West Wing."