“If you’re asking me if I think it’s possible that some bystander came along and filmed a murder instead of calling 911, then yes, I think that’s possible. I don’t think it’s possible that Tibor ever bludgeoned anybody to death. Ever. Tibor is not a violent person. He’s never been a violent person.”
“You can’t see a body,” Gregor said. “There’s blood on the gavel in the first frame. It doesn’t start out clean and get bloody.”
“Does any of this make any difference?” Bennis asked. “Because it doesn’t make any difference to me. And Tibor’s in jail somewhere, and he won’t talk to Russ. And he won’t talk to me or Donna. And he sent word that he wouldn’t see you, either. And I’m going completely and absolutely crazy, Gregor, I really am.”
Out on the street, everything had begun to look familiar. The cab slowed and began to pull to the right. The houses looked down-at-heel and pinched. The one belonging to Mikel Dekanian had a foreclosure notice plastered over its front windows, as if the dispute about the mortgage were already settled.
Bennis leaned forward and threw another pile of bills into the front seat next to the cabbie. The front door of 1207 opened and a small, dark head peered out. Then the door swung wide.
“Let’s go,” Bennis said. “We don’t want to give anybody any ideas.”
They went. They went quickly. Asha Dekanian grabbed Bennis by the arm as soon as she reached the top of the steps and pulled her inside. Gregor was inside a moment later, and the door was shut.
“I watched the whole time,” Asha said. “I watched the whole street. There wasn’t anybody there. Nobody knew you were coming here. It will be all right.”
“We go through to the back and out the back door and there’s an alley. Where they keep the garbage cans. Then we go down that three houses and that’s the back door to our place. With any luck, nobody will know you’re home,” Bennis said.
“It is a complete impossibility,” Asha said. “Father Tibor is a very good man.”
Bennis looked away. Gregor took note of the fact that, even under the thick accent, it was impossible not to hear the faint wobble of doubt. Asha Dekanian must have seen that video, too.
Bennis was already chugging down the long center hall toward the back. The house was very shabby but meticulously clean. It reminded Gregor of the way houses and tenements had been on Cavanaugh Street before everybody started making serious money.
What was at the very back was the kitchen, and it was not only very clean but also newly remodeled. There was something in a cast-iron pot on the stove that smelled familiar. Gregor was too distracted to recognize it.
Asha rushed ahead of Bennis and got the back door open. She held it wide and stuck her head out to look up and down the alley.
“It’s all right,” she said. “There’s nothing here. There’s nobody. You should move fast, just in case.”
Gregor wondered what circumstances in Asha Dekanian’s life in a Soviet country had taught her how to do this, and then he was out the door himself. The garbage cans were set up against the back walls, all of them decently closed.
“I noticed it when the kitchen guys were here,” Bennis said, moving them both along. “They brought a lot of their equipment in from the alley, and I stood out here one morning and got myself oriented. It’s a good thing I did, too, because I never would have guessed. This is us. The steps suck. We should have them fixed.”
The steps did suck. One of them was nearly off. Gregor marched up them and into his own kitchen—that fully remodeled kitchen that always made him think of House Beautiful magazine.
Bennis closed the door behind them. “Give me a minute and I’ll make some coffee. Or get you a shot of something serious if you want it. I’ve been forcing myself not to all day. I’ve also been forcing myself not to scream.”
Gregor put his bags down on the kitchen table and then sat. Bennis moved away to fuss with the coffee things. Gregor got his phone again and watched the video one more time.
Bennis came and sat down across from him. “Listen,” she said, and she was crying again. “I know this can’t be true. I know it. Tibor can’t have done this thing. But the more I hear, the worse this gets. Worse and worse. And that woman who died. She was that judge, you know, that Martha Handling he was so upset about. He was on the local news talking about her not a week and a half ago. And this other woman, this Janet somebody, who says she came in and found him—found him killing—Gregor, I don’t know what to do. Russ is losing his mind,” Bennis said. “Donna called me up a couple of hours ago, scared to death that he’s suicidal.”