The Burglar in the Rye Read Online Free PDF

for years. I splash on a little after work sometimes to counteract the doggie smell.”
    “Oh.”
    “Don’t look so disappointed. Listen, I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying this conversation, and I’m glad you let me buy you those drinks. They really loosened you up, even if I was the one who drank them.”
    “Well…”
    “But all good things have to end,” she went on, “including this sparkling conversation. It’s time we got out of here. I’ve got a late date with a beautiful woman. And you’ve got a date with a bear.”

CHAPTER
Three
    S ince I’d missed lunch, you could say that I’d had two double shots of rye on an empty stomach. Thanks to Carolyn, I wasn’t feeling their effects. Still, I figured I’d better eat something, and on my way back to the Paddington I stopped at a West African place I’d been meaning to try. I ordered a stew of vegetables and groundnuts because it sounded exotic, only to find out that “groundnut” is another name for our old friend the peanut. Still, it tasted exotic, and the waiters were cheerful. I ordered a glass of baobab juice, which sounded even more exotic than the groundnuts, but don’t ask me what that tasted like, because they were out of it. I had lemonade instead, and it tasted like lemonade.
    I walked the rest of the way to the hotel, and didn’t recognize any old friends in the lobby, unless you count the desk clerk, the same fellow who’d checked me in almost eight hours earlier. I went to collect my key and mentioned that he seemed to be working a long shift.
    “Noon to midnight,” he said. “I’d be getting off at eight, but Paula’s got a show tonight. She’s a magician, and she’s working a bachelor party this evening.”
    “A magician at a bachelor party?”
    “She performs nude.”
    “Oh,” I said.
    “She’s covered for me when I’ve had auditions, and I’m glad to return the favor. I just hope she shows up at midnight, or I could be stuck here until Richard comes on at four.”
    “And then you start in again tomorrow at noon?”
    He nodded, then leaned forward and propped an elbow on the counter. There was a limp, boneless quality to him that reminded me of Plastic Man in the comics. “Yes, but I’ll be off at eight, so it won’t be that bad.” He frowned. “I know you’re on the fourth floor but I can’t remember the room number.”
    “Four-fifteen.”
    “That’s one of the smaller rooms. I hope it’s all right.”
    “It’s fine.”
    “I could probably put you in something larger in a day or two.”
    “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m only going to be here for a few nights.”
    “That’s what I said myself, and that was over twenty years ago.” He smoothed an eyebrow with a fingertip. “And I’ve been here ever since. I’d been living here for, oh, seven years or so when Mr. Oliphant needed someone to fill in behind the desk, and he’d been awfully good about my rent, in which I was three or four months behind. So I filled in, and continue to do as time permits. I’m an actor, you see.”
    He’d mentioned auditions, so this didn’t come as asurprise. And it explained why he’d shifted in and out of an English accent earlier.
    “My name’s Carl Pillsbury,” he said. “You may have seen me onstage.”
    “I was thinking that you looked familiar.”
    He told me some plays he’d been in, all off-Broadway, then said that I wouldn’t have seen them, as I was from out of town. “But you might have seen me on television,” he suggested. “I was the airlines ticket agent in the Excedrin commercial a couple of years ago. And I’ve had small parts in Law & Order. Of course, you know what they say. There are no small parts, only small salaries.”
    “That’s funny,” I said.
    “Do you think so? It’s my own line, and I like it, but not everybody seems to get it. It may be my delivery. I had a stand-up routine that I tried at the comedy clubs, and the material was okay, but I have to say it