“What was? I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and already I don’t believe you.”

“I just happened to be in front of the Musette,” she said, “when the show let out last night.”

“You just happened to be there.”

“Everybody’s gotta be someplace, Bern.” Raffles had long since abandoned the paper I’d tossed him, and was now rubbing himself against Carolyn’s ankle, in the manner of his tribe. “Hey, look what he’s doing. Did you forget to feed him this morning, Bern?”

“He ate enough to glut a python,” I said. “Quit changing the subject. How did you happen to be there last night?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” she said. “Sue Grafton’s got a new book out, and I went up to Murder Ink to pick it up.”

“You went all the way up there for it?”

“Partners and Crime was sold out, and Three Lives didn’t have it in yet. So I hopped on the subway.”

“Murder Ink’s at Broadway and Ninety-second.”

“I know, Bern. I was just there last night.”

“That’s twenty-some blocks from the theater.”

“Well, I hadn’t had dinner.”

“So?”

“So I was headed downtown, looking for a restaurant, and nothing appealed to me. I finally settled for a coffee shop around Seventy-ninth Street. You know, I think we may have been overdoing it with ethnic foods lately. I sat in a booth and had a bacon cheeseburger and french fries and cole slaw and a piece of apple pie for dessert, and I drank two cups of ordinary American coffee with cream and sugar, and the whole meal struck me as wildly exotic.”

“And after your meal-”

“I felt stuffed, so I figured I’d walk a few blocks.”

“And the next thing you knew you were in front of the Musette Theater.”

“All right, so I planned it. Is that a crime?”

“No.”

“I got there a few minutes before the show let out and stood where I could keep an eye on the entrance. For a minute there I thought I’d missed you. The two of you were just about the last people out.”