Page 52 of The Mystery Writer

Mary stood too. “Can I walk you somewhere?”

“No.”

“You don’t look well. Why don’t you sit for a minute?” Mary sounded concerned. But then she had sounded like she was upset by Dan’s death too.

Theo left Aimee’s via the back exit, cutting behind a barbershop and Papa Keno’s pizza place toward Eleventh Street. By the time she reached the Japanese Friendship Gardens on Mass Street, the instinct to get as far away from Mary Cowell as possible had calmed. She stopped. What had she done? Mendes had warned her not to speak with reporters under any circumstances. Dammit. She’d have to warn him. Theo began walking home, her eyes open for any sign of Mary Cowell or Spiderman. She jumped now when a friendly passerby said hello. How could Lawrence, to which she’d fled for refuge, have become so menacing?

She reached home, trying to remember the code for the new security system. The snow had just melted, and Theo could feel its lingering chill in the air, but she stopped and sat on the porch steps in what was almost an act of defiance. This was ridiculous. This was the same place that it had been a few weeks ago, when their windows had no locks and she’d walked everywhere exploring quieter places without a second thought, when everyone seemed nearly too friendly, and the neighbors would come out to say ‘howsit goin?’ when they saw her. The neighbors had been almost invisible since Burt Winslow had been found and a police car had taken Theo Benton away for questioning.

Theo sat where she was for a while, watching the street quietly. The houses here were not quite as grand as those in Dan’s immediate neighborhood, but they were beautiful and they seemed, to her, more like homes. They had verandas like Australian houses, though they were more ornate, with detailed woodwork and brackets, some with circular ends that looked a little like attached gazebos. The blocks were large and bare in comparison to gardens back home. Australians were happy to clean out gutters incessantly, so they could have trees close to the house, and were less in love with lawn. There were a couple of properties like Gus’s—in need of renovation—and others that had been restored to the glory of another age. The Turners across the road had been the focus of reporters for the period immediately after Burt Winslow had been found. So much so that the Turners themselves had fled to a hotel. The media had watched the empty house for a day after that, before, one by one, they’d given up, and now the street seemed normal again. Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

A car pulled up in front of the house. Theo didn’t react at all at first. All four doors swung open at once, and four people got out. The two in the back carried a camera and microphone. Mary Cowell was one of the two who stepped out of the front.

Theo stood immediately and fumbled for her keys. Another car pulled up as she unlocked the door. She was inside and punching numbers into the security system before the third arrived. A knock. Mary Cowell’s voice. “Miss Benton. Miss Benton…we just have a couple of questions.”

“You’re trespassing,” Theo said, not sure if it was strictly true. “Please leave.”

She ran through the house to the back door, admitting Horse before locking it again. The hound followed her up the stairs into her bedroom. From the window she could see the news crews and reporters setting up. She stared dumbstruck until someone noticed her face in the window and directed the cameras in that direction. She pulled away and drew the curtains, panicking now. Theo grabbed her phone and started to dial Gus’s number, stopping midway through the sequence. Gus had already lost so much time because of her—she couldn’t call him out of work again. But she had to do something. She needed to warn him, and she needed help. How could she have been in Lawrence for nine months and made so few friends?

Steeling herself, she pulled up Mac Etheridge’s number and dialed.

“Theo, hello. How are you?”

“I’ve done something really stupid, Mac.”

“Are you all right? Where are you?”

Theo told him about Mary Cowell and the media crowd now in front of the house. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Stay put. Don’t go near the windows. I’ll be there in a few minutes—I’ll come to the back door.”

“Gus—”

“I’ll let him know he should work late till we give him the all-clear. Don’t worry, Theo.”

It was only after she’d hung up that Theo wondered how Mac would get to the back door. The backyard was fenced and gated. He could scale the gate, she supposed, but surely that would attract the attention of the reporters out front. God, they might follow suit.

She headed back downstairs, determined not to be cowering in the bedroom when he arrived. She filled the kettle, set it on the stove, and fed Horse, trying not to count the passing minutes. When she couldn’t stand not knowing any longer, Theo opened the drawing room curtain a crack and saw that the reporters had not given up.

She knelt to put her arms around Horse. “Oh, Horsey, what have I done?”

Mac knocked on the back door as promised. Theo opened it immediately, the relief plain on her face. He came in and locked the door behind him. His suit was a little scuffed, his shoes muddy.

Theo fought a ridiculous impulse to hug him. “How did you get to the back door without anyone noticing?”

“I climbed a few fences and cut through a couple of your neighbors’ yards.” He smiled. “I’m not sure I wasn’t noticed… I thought I heard someone scream.”

“This is such a mess, Mac.”

“Sit down and tell me exactly what happened.”

And so, Theo explained her conversation with Mary Cowell. “I thought she was a friend of Dan’s—she said she was a friend of Dan’s…and seemed so genuinely gutted by his death that I didn’t even think she could be a reporter.”

“Of course, you didn’t; why would you?” He accepted the mug of tea she’d made him. “How did she know to find you at Aimee’s—don’t you usually write at Benders?”

Theo frowned. “I don’t know. She said Jock mentioned I knew Dan—he’s one of the regulars at Benders. But I have no idea why she was speaking to Jock or how he knew I’d be at Aimee’s. Did you speak to Gus?”

“He’s thinking about renting out advertising space since there are cameras pointed at the house.”

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