"That means they think he's clean," Tartaglia said to Fook.
"Of course," Fook said. "We're all clean. Who the hell would want to steal that old bitch's box, excuse me, Miss."
"That's all right," Amelia said, and she took another sip of the drink.
"Did you tell him about the shelves?" Tartaglia said.
"No," Fook said.
"What about the shelves?"
"They found them."
"What shelves?" Amelia asked.
"From the refrigerator. They found them near the furnace downstairs," Tartaglia said.
"Which means," Fook said, "that whoever went to the trouble of stealing that broken-down piece of machinery also went to the trouble of removing the shelves from it first. Now does that make any sense to you?"
"None at all," Amelia said, and finished her drink.
"Are you ready for another one, young lady?" Tartaglia asked.
"Just to take off the chill," Amelia said, and she winked.
"She's Irish, I tell you," Fook said.
Tartaglia took her glass and poured it half full. He poured more bourbon into his own glass, and then handed Amelia hers and walked to Fook with the bottle, filling his glass as Fook talked.
"What good is a refrigerator without shelves?" Fook asked. "You're not drinking, Roger. You're supposed to be sharing the young lady's drink."
"Amelia," she said.
"Yes, Amelia, of course. You're a beautiful girl, Amelia," Fook said. "May I congratulate you upon your taste, Roger?"
"Yes, you may," Roger said, and smiled.
"Congratulations," Fook said. "Isn't there another glass in this place?"
"I'm afraid not."
"I insist that you share the lady's"
"Amelia," she said. , "Yes, I insist that you share Amelia's drink. Amelia, let the man have a sip."
"Well, I don't want to drink too much," Roger said.
"He gets violent when he's drunk," Fook said, and winked at Amelia.
"No, I don't think so," she said. "I don't think he's that kind."
"No, he's a very sweet man," Fook said, taking the glass from her gently, and handing it to Roger. "Drink," he said "And tell me what you think about those shelves."
Roger sipped at the bourbon and then handed the glass back to Amelia. "Gee, I don't know what to make of it," he said.
"Why would anyone steal a refrigerator and leave the shelves behind?" Fook asked.
"Maybe it was too heavy to carry with the shelves in it," Tartaglia said, and burst out laughing.
"Let me get this straight," Amelia said, drinking. "A refrigerator was stolen from your landlady's apartment last night, but the shelves"
"From the basement," Tartaglia corrected. "It was stolen from the basement."
"Oh. I see. Oh. But in any case, whoever took it first removed the shelves from inside, is this right?"
"That's right."
"Fingerprints." Amelia said.
"Of course!" Fook said.
"They'll find fingerprints on the shelves," Tartaglia said. "That's right. You're right, miss, have another drink."
"I'll get plotzed," Amelia said. "You'll get me plotzed here, I won't know what the hell I'm doing." She held out her glass.
They won't find fingerprints on the shelves, Roger thought. I was wearing gloves. They won't find fingerprints anywhere in that basement.
"But why did he take out the shelves?" Fook insisted. "That's the problem. Fingerprints aside, why did he bother to remove the shelves?"
They were all silent, thinking.
"I don't know," Amelia said at last, and took another swallow of bourbon.
"I don't know, either," Tartaglia said.
"Nor I," Fook said.
"Roger?" Amelia said. She grinned somewhat foolishly, and cocked her head to one side, as though she were having trouble keeping him in focus. "You seem to have an idea."
"No," he said.
"You seemed very thoughtful there," she said.
"No."
"Didn't he seem very thoughtful there?" she asked.
"He certainly did," Tartaglia said.
"Well, I don't have any ideas," Roger said, and smiled.
"I have the feeling he would like us to get out of here," Fook said.
"No, no . . ."
"I have that feeling, too," Tartaglia said.
"I think we've overstayed our welcome," Fook said. "I'm sure Roger and Amelia have a great many things to talk about, and couldn't care less about Mrs. Dougherty's goddamn icebox."
"Refrigerator," Tartaglia said.
"Yes, pardon me," Fook said, "and pardon me for
saying goddamn, Miss." i "Amelia." /
"Yes, Amelia."
"You don't have to rush off," Roger said. "Have another drink."
"No, no, we simply wanted to know how you'd made out with those two bulls they sent over from the station house. What were their names, Dominick? Do you remember their names?"
"Mutt and Jeff," Tartaglia said, and laughed. "You think they're ever going to find that refrigerator?"
"Never," Fook said.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I'll bet somebody's got that refrigerator in his kitchen right this minute. I'll bet it's full of beer and eggs and milk and soda and cheese and apples and oranges and bananas and grapes and jelly and"
"Oh, you should never put ba-nan-nuhs," Amelia sang, "In the re-fridge-a-ray-ter!"
''Cha-cha-cha," Fook said, and laughed.
"And this guy probably lives right across the hall from a cop," Tartaglia continued, "and tonight this cop'll go in there for a glass of beer or something, and the guy'll go to his refrigerator he swiped and the cop'll sit there and not even know it's a hot refrigerator," he said, and burst out laughing.
"How can a refrigerator be hot?" Amelia asked, and began laughing.
"We've got to go," Fook said. He went to the dresser and picked up his bottle. "We're glad the police gave you a clean bill of health, Roger. The least you could do, however, is ask whether Dominick here and myself also passed muster."
"Oh, gee, I'm sorry," Roger said. "I didn't mean to"
"You will be delighted to learn that we are neither of us suspects. In the considered opinion of the police, this was an outside job. As a matter of fact, they think the basement door was jimmied. The short one said so."
"Good night, Amelia," Tartaglia said from the door.
"Good night," she said.
"It was a pleasure meeting you," he said.
"Thank you. You, too."
"It was a pleasure," Tartaglia said again.
"Miss," Fook said, and he stopped in front of her and made a small bow. "You are with one of the sweetest people who ever walked the face of this earth, Roger Broome, a fine man even on short acquaintance."
"I know," Amelia said.
"Good. You are a fine woman."
"Thank you."
"Good," he said. He went to the door. "Be sweet to each other," he said. "You are very sweet people. Be sweet."
He made a short bow and then went out. Tartaglia went out behind him, closing the door.
"I think you had better lock it," Amelia said thickly.
"Why?"
"Mmm," she said, and grinned wickedly. "We have things to do, Roger. We have nice things to do." She rose unsteadily and walked to the closet door, opening it, and then pulling back in surprise and turning to him and covering her giggle with a cupped hand. "I thought it was the John," she said. "Where's the John?"
"Down the hall."
"Would you mind if I went to wash my face?" she asked.
"No, not at all," he said.
"I'll be right back," she said. She went to the door, opened it, turned, and then said with great dignity -"I really have to pee," and went out.
Roger sat on the edge of the bed.
His hands were sweating.