Free The Glass House People by Kathryn Reiss

Movement. REM, it's called, and it means that your eyes move rapidly when you're deeply asleep and dreaming. But you can't get to that stage till you've already been asleep for about twenty minutes, which you haven't, so why don't you just sit up and tell me about it?"
    Beth sat up, tears spilling. "Leave me alone."
    "No." His voice was surprisingly firm, and Beth peered at him from her curtain of hair. "I heard everything."
    "Everything?"
    "Everything she was saying to you. Aunt Iris. She was drunk, you know, Beth. Don't forget that."
    "I—I know." Beth sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box on her bedside table. She blew her nose noisily. "So, were you listening at the door or what?"
    "Didn't need to." Tom sat on the edge of the bed. "The windows of her room are open and so are the windows on the sunporch. It's right next door! I couldn't
not
hear. I was going to rush in and save you if she turned, you know, violent."
    His voice was firm and sounded grown-up. Beth peered at her brother and thought he might turn into someone she could lean on, someday. She blew her nose again and tucked the tissue under her pillow. "Well, she didn't touch me. But what do you think about what she said? Do you think Mom
could
have done it—pushed that man?"
    "Of course not! Don't ever think such a thing! She isn't the murderous type."
    "And Aunt Iris is?"
    "Probably."
    "But Tom—" Beth hesitated. It chilled her to know Aunt Iris was in the next room—it chilled the air she breathed. And yet there was something even more chilling. "You heard Mom. She herself said she doesn't remember exactly what happened—"
    Tom sat on the edge of the bed, frowning fiercely. "No! Don't even think it! I don't believe it for one second. And you'd better not, either!"
    She regarded him for a long moment, surprised at the tremble in his voice. Then she realized he was trying to mask a fear that left him dizzy. He changed again before her eyes—from the person she might be able to lean on back into old Mac, just her younger brother. She put on her most reassuring voice. "I never said I suspected Mom, did I? I'm just saying it's strange. I don't think Aunt Iris was lying tonight. I mean, I think she really
believes
Mom pushed that guy! There's something really weird about all this. We know Mom wouldn't have pushed him, right? But what if Aunt Iris didn't, either?"
    Tom's eyes were round. "Then someone else did?"
    "I don't know. I wonder how we can find out."
    He scowled. "You've read too many detective books this summer. There's no way to find out what happened here so many years ago."
    "Maybe not." But Beth suddenly felt cheered at the prospect of trying. An aggressive attempt to clear up the past and settle once and for all what had happened to the lodger might be better than living here with all the undercurrents. "Don't you want to uncover family skeletons, Tom?"
    "She's uncovered already," muttered Tom. "Over in the next room. And remember, Mom said the other night that the subject was closed. Absolutely and forever. That's what she said."
    Beth stared up at the crack on the ceiling. She'd thought earlier it looked like a man's head. But now it resembled a winged insect. "How do you solve a twenty-year-old mystery?" she mused to herself. "Oh, Tom—wouldn't you love to be able to turn yourself into a fly on the wall and go back in time to see what
really
happened here?"

June

    Because the June heat drew such crowds, Clifton had been staying later and later each night to clean up before heading home from the zoo. There was so much garbage to pick up from the picnic areas, he couldn't believe it. People were such slobs. And it wasn't just kids, either. He couldn't count anymore the times he had watched adults toss cotton-candy cones, paper cups still half full of melting ice and orangeade, and hamburger wrappers into the bushes, onto the paths, or even right into the animals' pens. It was disgusting.
    He took solace in the fact