"Professional?"
"Seemed as if. If not professional, at least experienced."
"So she brought you out of the unconscious, painful dark in time to intercept the criminal at his business?"
"Uh—"
"And Nora Phillips strode up and kissed you with warm, mad passion on the street, thus immobilizing your skull long enough for the enterprising sharpshooter to take a stance and perfect his backswing."
"So you don't think so?"
Stacey thought for a moment. "This does not smack of simple theft," he said at length.
"Hell," growled Grayson, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"Um. I see—"
"So someone looks like me. He tried to swipe my ship, it would appear. But they didn't need a dame to distract me; I could have been pushed off by a gunman. Frankly, I am of the type that will gladly hand over my wallet, my shoes, and/or my worldly goods rather than to have a hole drilled through my dinner. So, John, here is Nora Phillips' address. You can get the name of the defunct crook from the police, I'm sure. See what connection they might have had."