Glass Houses(46)

“Gregor Demarkian’s residence. Bennis Hannaford here.”

“Oh, good,” Elizabeth said. “I just called your apartment and you weren’t there. I’m so glad I found you.”

“Who are you and why are you so glad you found me?”

The voice was light, but Elizabeth heard the tension in it. It hadn’t occurred to her that Bennis Hannaford might be defensive about who called her and what they wanted from her, but it made sense. There were those very odd novels she wrote.

“It’s Elizabeth Woodville,” Elizabeth said. “You probably don’t remember me, although we’ve met. We were on the Harvest Day Committee together. A couple of years ago. I know it’s a very slight reason to claim acquaintance, but I’m almost at the end of my rope. Henry Tyder is my brother.”

“Henry Tyder?”

“The man they’ve just arrested as the Plate Glass Killer,” Elizabeth said. “I really am sorry. I am. It said on television this morning that you’ve been away for a while, so you probably don’t know. Last night they picked up my brother, my half brother really, because he was near one of the bodies and had blood on him. They picked him up and charged him with being the Plate Glass Killer, and he confessed. And then this lawyer came along, this Russell Donahue, and he said the confession wasn’t true. That people confess to things they haven’t done all the time, and this was one of those cases.”

On the other end of the line, Bennis Hannaford cleared her throat. “That is true,” she said. “I’ve heard Gregor talk about it many times. People do confess to things they didn’t do. But I don’t think you have to worry about your brother, Miss Woodville. I know Russ Donahue. He’s an excellent attorney. And Gregor is working on the investigation. I don’t think he thinks your brother—”

“It’s Mrs. Woodville,” Elizabeth said. Then she wondered why she’d said it. She’d been a widow now longer than she’d ever been married. “I know that Mr. Demarkian is working on the case, and that’s why I called. I thought, perhaps, that you could get me a chance to talk to him privately. Not with Margaret around. Margaret is my sister. Not with the police around. Not even with Mr. Donahue around, although he seems to be a nice enough person. It’s just—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just something that somebody ought to say. And Margaret won’t say it. She won’t even admit it. But somebody ought to. So I thought I would.”

“You know,” Bennis said, “it might not matter. Gregor was called out of here not ten minutes ago. By the police. I think they’ve got another body.”

“Another body?”

“Another Plate Glass Killing,” Bennis said. “I didn’t really catch the whole thing, and Gregor had to leave in a hurry; but I do know the police wanted him immediately, and Russ did too; and they don’t usually drag him out in the middle of the night if they don’t have a body. So, you see, everything might be all right as far as your brother is concerned.”

“What do you mean, ‘all right’?”

“Well,” Bennis said, “if there’s been another Plate Glass Killing, and your brother is in jail, he couldn’t have committed it, could he? And that would mean that in all likelihood he wasn’t the Plate Glass Killer in the first place.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. She did see. She didn’t understand, but she did see. “Miss Hannaford,” she said. “Would you mind? Do you think you could get me a chance to talk to Mr. Demarkian in private even if it does turn out that this is a new Plate Glass Killing and Henry couldn’t have done it?”

“I could try,” Bennis said. “If you leave you’re name and number, I’ll tell him about it when he comes in. But if your brother isn’t—”

“Yes, I know,” Elizabeth said, “it sounds ridiculous. I sound ridiculous to myself. It’s just that. Well. Never mind. It’s Elizabeth Woodville, as I said, at 555-2793, here in Philadelphia.”

“It’s likely to be some time tomorrow. If he’s out late—”

“Yes, Miss Hannaford, I understand. And I apologize again for disturbing you so late at night and on your first night home.”

“It’s quite all right, really.”

Elizabeth put the phone back into the receiver. The room she was in was small and without windows. She should have been claustrophobic, but she wasn’t. It felt like a cocoon in here, and Margaret’s humming couldn’t penetrate.

What if there really was a new Plate Glass Killing? What would that mean?