Page 100 of Not a Word

He hesitated a moment before admitting her into the house. “I guess,” he said.

As she stepped inside, thinking Holden had the decorating and tidying skills of a college freshman, McCabe said, “You live here alone?”

“Yeah. Uh, look, I don’t know what to tell you about my dad. It’s pretty obvious what happened, right? My dad left a note?”

“Yes.”

“And it was Dad’s handwriting, right?”

“Your brother seemed to think so.”

“So what else is there to say?”

“You must have been shocked when you found out.”

“Shocked? Sure, yeah, I’m shocked. We’re all shocked.”

He went to the cupboard, grabbed a glass, ran some water into it from the tap, and took a drink.

“How’s your mother doing?” she asked, not mentioning that she’d just come from talking to her.

“Haven’t seen her today. She came by yesterday and she was pretty torn up about it. I mean, not just that Dad was dead, but, you know, the circumstances and all.”

“You know the name Evelyn Corby?”

She tossed it out, no buildup. Wondering how he’d react.

He blinked.

“Uh, who?”

“You’d have been a kid at the time, but did you ever hear the name? Hear your parents discussing her?”

“Sorry, Evelyn who?”

“Corby.”

“No,” he said quickly.

She waited a beat, then asked, “You’re not curious?”

“Curious?”

“About who she is? Why I’m asking?”

“Not . . . really. But okay, who is she?”

“She was a Wiffel-Smith colleague of your father’s who was murdered back in nineteen ninety-nine.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“The gun your father used yesterday was the same one that killed Evelyn Corby.”

“That’s . . . that’s weird. That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“You don’t look surprised.”

“There’ve been so many surprises the last couple of days I guess I’m getting used to them.” He drank some water, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.