Glass Houses(113)

Gregor Demarkian was not coming in a squad car, but Tyrell knew which car it was as soon as he saw it. He stood up from where he was sitting on the curb to wait. Charles Jellenmore was already standing. Fie was always standing. He had too much energy to sit.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Charles said, “waiting on some white man, waiting on some white man who isn’t even really the police.”

“Don’t say ‘polees,’ “ Tyrell said automatically. “What is it with you guys today that you all want to sound ignorant? I don’t care what you want to say about my generation; we didn’t sound ignorant.”

“I’ve seen some of that stuff on the History Channel: Stokely Carmichael, H. Rap Brown. You sounded like a bad movie about a revolution in Mexico.”

“At least you know there was once a revolution in Mexico,” Tyrell said. “You’ve learned something since you’ve been here.”

“I’ve learned you’re crazy,” Charles Jellenmore said.

But he didn’t move. And as the car pulled up in front of them, Tyrell made a mental note of satisfaction that Charles hadn’t dropped the “re” on the end of “you’re.” Tyrell had never imagined how important small things really were all those years ago when he was being more like Charles than he was now.

The car shut off and the doors opened. Four men got out, only two of whom—Rob Benedetti, the district attorney, and Gregor Demarkian—Tyrell recognized. He thought the other two looked like ordinary police detectives. There was a tall one and one who looked just sort of nondescript. That was the kind who would make a good detective. Nobody would be able to pick him out in a crowd or remember him five seconds after he’d left the room.

Gregor Demarkian stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mr. Moss,” he said, “I’m Gregor Demarkian.”

“Oh, I know,” Tyrell said. “I’ve seen your pictures. It’s an honor to meet you. An honor. This here is Charles Jellenmore. He works for me.”

“Mr. Jellenmore,” Gregor Demarkian said.

Charles looked suspicious, but he shook hands. Tyrell wondered if that was because he’d seen Michael Jordan shake hands with somebody on television. Tyrell had no idea if Charles admired people like Michael Jordan. He was afraid he admired people more like 50 Cent instead.

“I’ve got two of the women around the back making sure nobody gets in the back door,” Tyrell said, “but they don’t need to be there because there’s an officer there already. I think they’re talking to him about church.”

“He’s going to go crazy,” Charles Jellenmore said. “He isn’t even a brother.”

“We’ll go around back in a minute,” Gregor Demarkian said. “Let me ask you a few things first. This is a Green Point building, right? It’s owned by Green Point Properties?”

“Oh,” Tyrell said, “Yeah, sure. I don’t think of it that way is all. I rented it right from the lady herself. From Miss Tyder.”

“Miss Tyder? That’s what she called herself?” Gregor said.

“What? Oh, I don’t know. I just assumed it was Miss Tyder. That’s what Green Point is, isn’t it, the Tyders? And the man is always getting himself in the papers, for being found drunk on the street and that kind of thing.”

“Lately,” Charles said, “he’s been getting himself in the papers for getting arrested for murder and escaping from jail.”

Gregor Demarkian nodded. Tyrell felt relieved. For some reason he was feeling very proprietary about Charles Jellenmore this morning. He wanted him to make a good impression on Gregor Demarkian, they way he would want a son to.

“Have either of you ever seen Henry Tyder in person?” Gregor asked.

“In person on the television,” Charles said.

“He came into the store once about a year back,” Tyrell said. “He didn’t mean nothing by it. He wasn’t looking to cause any trouble. He was just drunk.”

“Did he cause any trouble?” Gregor asked.

“Well, he wandered around for a while, and he’d been out sleeping on the street, so he smelled. He was upsetting the customers. We serve a lot of the church ladies, you know; they don’t like bad behavior. Anyway, I asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t go. He said he owned the place, and he could be in it as much as he wanted. We went back and forth on that for a while, and finally I called Miss Tyder. There are two of them, though. Miss Tyders, I mean. I called and went around the block for a while with one of them and then the other came on and said she’d be down to pick him up. She came, too.”