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“So this letter was written…?”
“It’s not dated. But it was after I’d given him my manuscript.” Theo busied herself reheating Indian food. “He was… I found his body the next day.”
Mac found dishes and cutlery.. “How did Murdoch generally get in touch with you?” he asked. “Was he always moved to penmanship?”
Theo served out generous portions of rice and curry, and they took the plates to the living room as the kitchen table was buried in her notes. Horse followed and lay on the rug, regarding them with eyes that seemed determined to let them know that he was open to Indian cuisine. “No. I saw him nearly every day…but if there was anything, he’d phone or text.” She looked at Mac sharply. “Before you say it, he wasn’t that old.”
“I wasn’t going to say it. My grandmother knows how to text.” He smiled. “But it is a little odd that he would choose to write a letter on this occasion.”
Theo could feel the color rising in her cheeks. “It was a…the kind of letter you’d write by hand.” She picked up the second bag, surprised to hear the contents clinking as she did so.
“I dropped by Cottins and picked up a padlock and chain for the gate,” Mac said. “It’ll be a bit of a nuisance, but at least you’ll be sure that Horse isn’t walking the streets.”
“Oh…thank you.” Theo hadn’t planned to let Horse out of her sight until Gus got back, but a padlock would also work. There was something very thoughtfully practical about Mac Etheridge.
They did not talk of the letter as they ate. Instead, Mac told Theo tales of Great Falls, Montana, and a family that seemed prone to public disaster. His brother Caleb’s ill-fated attempt to build an ark, which ended in him being mauled by the breeding pair of cats he’d selected to survive the next flood. He made her smile and then laugh.
“So how did you end up a private eye?” she asked.
“Didn’t every kid want to be Dick Tracy?”
“In the fifties, maybe.”
He laughed. “I work for law firms and corporate entities, doing what really amounts to research. I have a knack with computers; I know how to get into databases and systems. I’m afraid calling me a private eye is somewhat romantic.”
“I see.” Theo blinked. “You’re a hacker.”
Mac sighed. “You and Gus seem to share a penchant for the sensational.”
“And you seem determined to convince the world that you are some kind of lower-order clerk…which I suppose would be an excellent disguise for a private eye.”
He groaned, placing his plate on top of her empty one. “I’ll make coffee.”
“I can do that.” Theo started to get up.
“No, let me. Gus has been teaching me to make Australian coffee. I need the practice. Come on, Horse… Looking at me like a starving waif has worked.”
Horse followed him, his tail creating its own breeze. Theo curled up on the couch, listening as Mac moved about the kitchen making coffee. She heard the water running and dishes being washed. She smiled… His mother had trained him well, but then, you probably would mind a woman who’d shot you.
Theo was glad he’d come round. She was no longer as unnerved as she had been that afternoon. In fact, she’d decided the gate had been opened by a precocious neighborhood child, or perhaps Burt Winslow had called earlier with the letter and gone to the backyard to see if there was anyone home. The gate was left unlatched accidentally.
And Dan’s letter had refocused her.
By the time Mac returned with coffee, Theo had retrieved the emergency chocolates she kept in a hollowed-out volume on the bookshelf.
He eyed the cache, amused. “Most people hide their valuables.”
“These are my valuables.” She inhaled courage and held it for a moment before handing him the letter Burt Winslow had delivered. She told him what it was. “Please don’t read the other side.”
CHAPTER 13
Mac Etheridge did not lower his eyes to the page. “I don’t have to read any of it, Theo.”
Theo swallowed. “Yes, you do. I want to hire you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I want to hire you to find out who killed Dan Murdoch.”
