“Oh,” Fanny said. She really did not know what she was doing here. She did not know what to say.
Arthur Heydreich was standing in the doorway. He was waiting. He was polite. He did not seem to be restless or in a hurry.
“Oh,” Fanny said. “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m Fanny Bullman. I live up the street. I live, in the, well, they’re all mock Tudors around here, aren’t they? I live up the street. And I just wanted to say. I wanted to say—”
“Yes?” Arthur Heydreich said again.
Fanny looked away again. There really was no sensible way to do this. There was no sensible way to do anything at all.
“I just wanted to say,” she said, “that I think it was horrible. I think it was horrible the way the police treated you, and the press, when they didn’t really know what they were talking about and you hadn’t done anything at all. They didn’t even stop and think about what they were doing, about what kind of damage they could cause. They just jumped to conclusions and went ahead and did it. And I didn’t want you to think that everybody felt the same way. That we all thought you were guilty without thinking about it. I didn’t want you to think that everybody at Waldorf Pines—”
“You have the children,” Arthur Heydreich said. “The small ones. You take them out the back gate to the bus stop every morning.”
Fanny looked up. She felt more than a little flattered that he’d noticed. “That’s right,” she said. “A boy and a girl. They’re both in elementary school.”
“I see you walking them in the mornings,” Arthur said. “That must be hard to do. I think it’s why Martha and I never had any children. There are so many things you have to do for them. Maybe it wasn’t that. I don’t know. It’s hard to remember things now.”
“It would be hard for me to be in one of these big houses by myself,” Fanny said. “I think that’s why I came over. I didn’t like the idea of you being in there all by yourself. These places are so big, they echo.”
“They do echo,” Arthur said.
Fanny felt exposed where she was. There was a slight breeze. It was making her feel cold. She shoved her hands in her pockets and said,
“Well. I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t mean to bother you. You must be busy. I just thought I’d say it was terrible the way you were treated.”
“It was very nice of you to say.”
“I think people should be more careful about the things they say and do,” Fanny said. “Too many people just want a story because it’s exciting. It doesn’t have to be true. I don’t understand people sometimes. But I did always think you were—”
“What?”
“Very nice,” Fanny said firmly. Then she rushed. “I always thought you were a very nice person. I didn’t see any reason to change my mind just because somebody had accused you of something. And it didn’t make any sense to me that you would, you know, that you would kill—you were always so good to her, to Martha, I mean. I met her at meetings sometimes. I just didn’t see how you could be like that with her, day after day, and then—well, you know. I’m sorry. I really am intruding. I didn’t mean to do this. I just wanted you to know that, well, you know. Well—”
Fanny thought she ought to get out of there as quickly as she could. She ought to run all the way back to her own house.
She was just about to do it when Arthur Heydreich stepped back and pulled the door more widely open.
“Would you like to come in?” he said. “I’m trying to make some coffee.”
“Trying?”
“It used to be the maid who did it. She came in and did it every morning. She’s not here, now, of course. I don’t know what’s happened to her. I suppose she just disappeared when I went to jail.”
“A lot of them disappear when the police come around,” Fanny said. “That’s because they’re not, you know, legal.”
Arthur stood all the way back. Fanny could see the entire foyer.
“Come in,” he said again. “I really can make coffee if I think about it.”
Fanny did not know why they were talking about coffee, but she did know that she wanted to go into Arthur Heydreich’s house.
SIX
1
The mayor was a man named Kenneth Bairn, and Gregor knew from the moment he saw him that Ken would insist on being called “Ken,” and glory in the idea that he was a “hands-on boss.” Gregor had had a number of hands-on bosses in the course of his life. He’d even liked some of them. He’d found all of them irritating. From the look of him, Gregor thought he was going to find Ken both irritating and insufferable. It always surprised the hell out of him, the way so many insufferable people, women as well as men, managed to get elected to things. The basic requirements of democracy should have worked against it.