“So,” Bennis said. “Is there? A connection between your guy and the Plate Glass Killer victims?”
“Well, there was a connection with Elyse Martineau,” Alexander said. “She was his secretary. And there’s a connection with one or two of the others. One of them was a client for a short time. One of them worked in the grocery store where Dennis picks up his dinners. He doesn’t cook, Dennis, unless you count the microwave. And then I started to think how odd it was. Does the name Arlene Treshka mean anything to you?”
“No,” Bennis said.
“She’s the woman who just died,” Alexander said. “The woman they found that old guy standing next to in the alley. Usually, with serial killer cases, you hear all about the victims, one after the other. Their pictures are everywhere. But so much nonsense is happening with this that nobody ever hears Arlene Treshka’s name at all. So I decided I ought to look into her. Into who she was, and what she did. And she—”
“Has connections to this Dennis Ledeski?” Bennis asked.
“She’s got connections to everyone,” Alexander Mark said. “It’s the oddest thing. The more I put out feelers, the more connections I found, and yet she wasn’t anybody who had the kind of job or life that you’d expect to kick up all the principles in a murder case. So I thought that if I could talk it out with Mr. Demarkian, I could—”
The outside door swung open, and Alexander turned to find a small, thin, tense woman in fussy clothes standing in front of him. He was not the kind of person who took a dislike to people on first sight, but he didn’t like this one, not in the least. She reminded him of a long line of women he labeled in the back of his head as the kind who made him happy he was gay. There were other women—like this Bennis person—who did not.
Bennis and the pregnant woman didn’t seem to like the fussy woman any more than Alexander did himself. He chalked that up to the good taste of both of them.
“Well,” the pregnant woman said. “Miss Lydgate. Were you looking for us?”
“I was looking for Gregor Demarkian,” Miss Lydgate said. Her accent was soft, but unmistakable. It occurred to Alexander that he liked constipated Brits even less than he liked the American kind. “It’s imperative that I find him. I’ve got a deadline.”
“He went down to the District Attorney’s Office,” Bennis said. “I don’t know when he’ll be back. When’s your deadline?”
“In any decent country there would be public transportation worth riding on,” Miss Lydgate said. “And the food. No wonder so many Americans are fat as pigs. You can’t go a block without being assaulted by Philly steaks. I can’t imagine who eats Philly steaks.”
“I do,” Alexander said pleasantly. “Usually with a decent little burgundy.”
“I know about you,” Miss Lydgate said. “You’re one of those New Age Republicans who doesn’t care if your country turns into a theocracy run by Fundamentalist mental defectives as long as you get your tax cuts. I have to make my deadline. I insist that you tell me where Mr. Demarkian is right this minute, or I’ll write what I have and he’ll be sorry as hell.”
“I did tell you where he was,” Bennis said. “He’s at the District Attorney’s Office. You can find the address and phone number in the blue pages in the phone book. It’s really not Mars, you know.”
“If Americans had the faintest idea what a real education looked like,” Miss Lydgate said, “these things wouldn’t happen with such relentlessly repetitive frequency.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked out, stomping ineffectively on very high heels that Alexander kept hoping would trip her up.
“Maybe I’ll stay out of the line of fire this afternoon,” he said. “If you’ll let me leave a message, he can get back to me after he’s murdered that woman.”
Bennis laughed. “Never mind. I’ve got a way to get in touch with him, assuming he’s learned to use the text-messaging thing on his cell phone, which he might not have. But let’s go upstairs and try to head Miss Philippa Bloody Lydgate off at the pass and get you a chance to talk to him. We don’t have much to drink besides terrible coffee, but that ought to do as well as anything after a blast from what’s her name.”
“She’s very rude,” the blonde one said, looking pained. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody that rude in all my life.”
“Just wait till you see what she prints in the Watchminder, ” Bennis said, heading up the stairs.