“Well, good for him. How’d you happen to come up with the scratch to buy this place, Bernie?”

“I came into a few dollars.”

“Uh-huh. A relative died, somethin’ like that.”

“Something like that.”

“Right. What I figure, you dropped out of sight for a month or so during the winter. January, wasn’t it?”

“And part of February.”

“I figure you were down in Florida doin’ what you do best, and you hit it pretty good and walked with a short ton of jewelry. I figure you wound up with a big piece of change and decided Mrs. Rhodenbarr’s boy Bernard oughta fix hisself up with a decent front.”

“That’s what you figure, Ray?”

“Uh-huh.”

I thought for a minute. “It wasn’t Florida,” I said.

“ Nassau, then. St. Thomas. What the hell.”

“Actually, it was California. Orange County.”

“Same difference.”

“And it wasn’t jewels. It was a coin collection.”

“You always went for them things.”

“Well, they’re a terrific investment.”

“Not with you on the loose they aren’t. You made out like a bandit on the coins, huh?”

“Let’s say I came out ahead.”

“And bought this place.”

“That’s right. Mr. Litzauer didn’t want a fortune for it. He set a fair price for the inventory and threw in the fixtures and the good will.”

“Barnegat Books. Where’d you get the name?”

“I kept it. I didn’t want to have to spring for a new sign. Litzauer had a summer place at Barnegat Light on the Jersey shore. There’s a lighthouse on the sign.”

“I didn’t notice. You could call it Burglar Books. ‘These books are a steal’-there’s your slogan. Get it?”

“I’m sure I will sooner or later.”

“Hey, are you gettin’ steamed? I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. It’s a nice front, Bern. It really is.”

“It’s not a front. It’s what I do.”

“Huh?”

“It’s what I do for a living, Ray, and it’s all I do for a living. I’m in the book business.”