He had Bennis Hannaford’s stack of computer papers under his arm. Bennis had errands to do in downtown Philadelphia and no particular interest in keeping the information, or the paper it was printed on. “After all,” she said through a haze of cigarette smoke, “I got it for you. I thought you’d be interested. Things have been… quiet around here lately.” It was certainly true that things had been quiet around here lately. The world of extracurricular murders seemed to be going through a recession. Gregor still wasn’t sure he wanted Bennis thrusting four-year-old unsolved cases under his nose and insisting he do something about them—and why? Just because Hannah Krekorian had had dinner with a man who had once been accused of the crime? Gregor knew what Bennis was hinting at, but he thought it was absurd. Hannah Krekorian was a stocky, stodgy middle-aged woman. She was almost old. She was no more interested in romance, or capable of inspiring it, than Gregor was interested in the Super Bowl chances of the Philadelphia Eagles.
