Glass Houses(42)

“It’s gone bad and you haven’t thrown it out?” Bennis said.

“I was getting around to it.”

Bennis took the top off the milk, smelled the opening, and winced. Then she poured the milk down the sink. It would have gone in one long stream, but there were lumps in it. Gregor thought he remembered the sell-by date being a week and a half ago at least.

“So,” Bennis said, running tap water into the milk bottle so that she could recycle it, “I’ve been reading about you. You got to meet the great Jig Tyler.”

“He’s a son of a bitch,” Gregor said. “I think it’s required of people with IQs above two hundred.”

“He’s got two Nobel Prizes,” Bennis said. “There aren’t many people who have managed that, and most of the ones who have have minor seconds, like the Peace Prize. I’m impressed.”

“He’s on another case now,” Donna said. Her brightness was now so desperate, Gregor could practically see it carrying a sign that said “WILL WORK FOR FOOD.” “Russ brought him in on it. This really addled old man has been arrested as the Plate Glass Killer, and he confessed; so of course the police think he really did it, but Russ doesn’t. Lots of people make false confessions, did you know that? I didn’t. I can’t imagine why anybody would ever do that ever, but Russ says they do, all the time.”

Bennis put a cup down in front of Gregor on the table. Then she took a seat herself. This was an exercise in triangulation, Gregor thought. Then he wished Tibor was here, too, or maybe half of Cavanaugh Street. Maybe they could hold a party with the whole neighborhood and have appetizers on trays from a caterer and too much wine. That wouldn’t work. The women would be insulted. They’d want to know why he’d hired a caterer instead of just asking them to help.

“There’s no food in the refrigerator,” Bennis said. “There isn’t even anything Lida or Hannah brought over for you. Are you on some kind of diet?”

“I’m never on a diet,” Gregor said.

“Gregor doesn’t need to be on a diet,” Donna said. “I mean, really. I know you fuss all the time about his health, but he isn’t even really overweight. I mean, it’s just his build. He’s broad in the shoulders like all the men around here are. It’s some kind of Armenian trait.”

“I’ve been reading about the Plate Glass Killer,” Bennis said. “It sounds like an interesting case. Maybe John Jackman will win his election and become mayor and appoint you to be commissioner of police.”

“I don’t want to be commissioner of police,” Gregor said, “especially not if John is mayor.”

“Isn’t it odd the way nobody ever pays attention to local politics?” Donna said. “I mean, of course, some people do, but most people don’t; and that really doesn’t make any sense. Local politics matter a lot more than national politics do, at least to most of us. It matters to everybody’s day-to-day lives. But they won’t come out for the election, and they will come out to vote for president. Does that make sense to you?”

Gregor didn’t think Donna was making sense even to herself at the moment, but he didn’t like to say so. Bennis had a spoon. Gregor didn’t know what for. She always took her coffee black.

“Oh,” Donna said, “listen. I’d better go. Linda’s been looking after Tommy all afternoon, and she needs a break. And you two probably have a lot to talk about. I mean, I know that Russ and I always have a lot to talk about when he’s been away on a business trip. And I really hate it, too. It gets so lonely. I’ll just, you know, get along home for now and see if there’s been any sign of Russ.”

“I’ll get—” Gregor started.

“No, no,” Donna brushed him away. She had hauled herself to her feet. She was finding it hard to move. “I’m fine,” she said desperately. “Really fine. I’m just going to run over now and see that everything is all right. I’m so glad you’re back, Bennis, really, and I’m sure Gregor is too. Everybody at the Ararat missed you.”

“You’re absolutely sure you don’t need any help,” Bennis said.

“Absolutely,” Donna said. She had managed to get herself to her feet and was on her way to the door. “I’m just fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow. At breakfast. If you have breakfast. If you aren’t jet-lagged. You know what I mean.”

Donna was still talking when she made it to the foyer and the front door, still talking as she went out into the hall. Then the door closed, and the apartment was unnaturally, irrevocably silent.