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“Most Yanks can’t tell the difference between an Australian and a British accent…and your accent is pretty weak.” He clearly disapproved of the last. “If it was me, yeah, someone would be able to guess, but you?” He screwed up his face. “I don’t know.”
Theo said nothing. It was true. Her accent was at best faint, though Gus’s was still quite marked, despite all the years he’d spent in the States. Perhaps he’d stubbornly held on to home through it. “Perhaps he has an ear for inflection,” she said, unsettled further.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen him before?” Gus pressed.
“Did I mention the blond dreadlocks and tattoo? I think I might have remembered.”
Gus shoved the last of his burger into his mouth and stepped into the living room. Theo followed and watched as he fiddled with the window, testing the catch. “Grab my toolbox, will you, Theo? It’s under the kitchen sink.”
“You have a toolbox?” Theo had never known her brother to be particularly handy. She found the box and took it to him.
He set it on the coffee table, loosened his tie, and opened it. Inside, a hammer lay in a nest of business cards. Rolling up his sleeves, Gus rummaged through the cards till he found the one he wanted. He rang the twenty-four-hour locksmith and arranged for him to fit locks on all windows the next day.
“Just to be on the safe side,” he said as he closed the toolbox, satisfied. “I think I deserve a beer.”
Theo cleaned up the takeaway boxes and wrappers as Gus looked in the refrigerator. It was amazing how much more secure a warm house felt. And, of course, Gus was home now…though she didn’t know what use he’d be if the house were broken into…Possibly he had the card of someone who could help.
She sat down with a coffee while he sipped a Copperhead Pale Ale, and she asked him about his work.
Gus was surprised. Considering the events of the last couple of days, his work seemed if not trivial, a little uninteresting. “You haven’t decided you want to go back to the law, have you, mate?”
“God, no! I’m just not sure I could take thinking about Dan right now.”
“Because you loved him?”
“Because I miss him. I miss talking about writing and books. It breaks my heart that those conversations are over forever.”
Gus swigged his beer. “I’ve read books. You could talk to me.”
Theo smiled.
“No, really. Don’t let the beer fool you. I like wine and cheese too.” He sat up and rested his chin on the crook of his thumb and forefinger in a rather good facsimile of the kind of author portraits that graced the back jackets of novels. “I’m ready; bring it on.”
Theo was laughing now. God, she loved Gus. “You’re an idiot.”
He relaxed. “Really. Tell me. You’ve finished your book?”
She nodded. “I’ve finished the first draft.”
“So now you get a publisher and become famous?”
“Now I polish and try to get an agent.” Theo told him about Veronica Cole, whom she’d met that morning.
“She wants to have lunch with you?”
“Yes…but I’m not sure I will.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It feels a bit indecent, Gus… Dan refused to introduce her, to show her the manuscript, remember. I only met Veronica Cole because Dan was murdered. It feels like I’m taking advantage of his death.”
Gus sipped, contemplating her words. “Well, he couldn’t have meant what he said, because he’s obviously given her your manuscript. In fact, he must have given it to her straight away.”
Theo signed. “I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t understand how he could go from being so reluctant to sending the manuscript directly to his agent. It doesn’t make sense.”
