Chapter 5 #2
The drive wasn’t long, but it was riddled with unease.
We didn’t talk, and I stared out the window, not seeing much.
When we parked in the driveway of an unremarkable white house sandwiched between a much larger Victorian style home and a boxy boarding house, I wasn’t sure what to expect inside, but it was very Gus, the spicy citrus and woodsmoke scent of his magic lingering and infusing his space.
Carefully carved and stained wooden pieces lined the entry, and the parlor he led me into.
My hand was drawn to a cherry-stained China cabinet filled with books instead of plates, and I ran my fingertips along the vines and leaves that snaked the design. “This is beautiful.”
Gus cleared his throat, and I glanced over to see his cheeks dusted in pink. “I just made it because I like to keep busy. It’s nothing special.”
He made it? Shoving my eyebrows back down to their normal position, I asked, “How many of these pieces did you make? I didn’t know you built furniture.”
The colour on his cheeks deepened and he shrugged. “Why would you?” Ouch. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll get some coffee on the go, and we can get this over with.”
“Lead on.”
“OKAY,” GUS SAID ONCE WE WERE SEATED in sturdy wooden chairs, mugs steaming on the table before us. “Start from the beginning. Why are you home?”
“Mary-Alice wrote me a letter. I gave it to the Mounties, but the crux was that Ted was in big trouble. She worried it would get them killed and wanted me to talk some sense into him. She didn’t elaborate beyond that…
but I should have gotten home as soon as I could.
I didn’t really believe it could be so dire.
Ted’s never been the sort of person to get in any trouble, let alone involve himself in something that could get him killed. ”
“Mmm,” Gus agreed. “I can’t picture it either. So, what then?”
“I called several times, but there was no answer. When I couldn’t reach them, I grew much more concerned.” I twisted the too-warm mug in my hands, needing to do something with them.
“You were so worried you came all the way back here, right when it seems like things are about to end over there? Didn’t you want to finish out the war?”
What did that have to do with anything? “Not as much as I wanted to make sure my brother was all right. Look, you might think I’m a jerk for leaving him behind, but I never stopped caring about him.
Or worrying.” I consciously unclenched my hands from around the mug.
I had to stop reacting to every poke and prod.
“I don’t think that. He never did either. And if you think I didn’t look out for him after you left, you’re out of your mind. Who do you think was his best man?”
My mouth must have dropped open because Gus sent me a wry grin.
“He never said.”
“And you never asked, I bet.” There was bitterness in his voice I forced myself to ignore. He couldn’t act like the injured party. Not to me.
“About you? Not once.” I picked up my coffee and blew on it before I took a sip.
“Figures.” Gus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. “We’re getting off point. The letter from Mary-Alice and neither of them answering the phone worried you enough to come home.”
“Yes.”
“Did she write you often?”
Shouldn’t he be jotting my answers down, or was his memory that good? If I was interviewing someone, I’d be scribbling away unless we were recording.
“No, she never wrote before. I suppose that’s part of why I took it so seriously. It seemed like a desperate act. She must have been truly frightened, or why reach out to me?”
Gus stared at the centre of the table, gaze unfocused. The ever-present ache in my chest throbbed, and all I wanted was a hug.
How could I be this angry at him and still want his comfort so badly?
“Think of your last conversation with Ted, what was it like?”
“Normal. He was talking about turning our old room into a nursery.” What if he never got to do that?
The thought of that house full of children who were doted on and loved had soothed some part of me I hadn’t known was hurting anymore.
Had Ted felt the same? We never talked about the bad times; it was self-defence.
We’d tucked away the painful things to salvage a relationship, and our father dying hadn’t changed that.
Staring down into undiluted coffee the same colour as Gus’ eyes, exhaustion weighed heavy on me.
“Is there anything you can think of that seemed strange before the letter from Mary-Alice? Any calls or letters that stand out?”
Casting my mind back, I sifted through my correspondence for the last month. Nothing had seemed unusual. Well, not from Ted, anyway.
“That,” Gus said, brightening with interest. My heart skipped. “What were you thinking of?”
“I… it doesn’t seem relevant.” I sounded as flustered as I felt.
“Kit, just tell me.”
“There was another odd letter. A crackpot’s attempt to gain my attention, that’s all.
I receive a substantial sum of mail from admirers who’ve come to think of me as a close friend or family, but…
this man, Albert Salter, claimed to have information regarding my father’s death.
That things weren’t as they’d been reported.
But honestly, you have to know what happened, Gus.
Your mother’s the one who phoned me. He tripped on the stairs outside—probably sauced—and knocked himself out on the railing. Froze to death.”
“Do you still have it? The letter?”
“Well, sure, I hadn’t decided how or whether to respond. It’s in my bag if the rain didn’t soak it.” Did he really think this pertained to Ted and Mary-Alice? I couldn’t see how, but the way Gus had leaned forward like he sensed something important made me second-guess myself.
“Do you remember the return address? Was he local?”
“It was from Halifax. Barrington Street, I think?”
“That’s enough to go on, I can track him down,” Gus said. His confidence buoyed me. “Might not be related, so don’t get your hopes up. I’ll look into the guy.”
Not a chance. “You mean we’ll look into him.”
“Uh, no. I don’t.” Gus sat straight again, eyes narrowing. “I mean me, on my own.”
“I know you said we had to do it your way, and I’ll accept I need to follow your lead, but if you expect me to sit around at home twiddling my thumbs—”
His heavy brows lowered in frustration. “You’re the one who hired me, Kit! If you don’t trust me to do my job—”
“I trust you to do your job fine! But Gus, I need to help. I need to do something.” I stared, trying to make him understand.
After a long beat, Gus said, “Okay.” Gratitude choked me up, then evaporated fast as he continued, “You can tag along for some stuff, but I work alone, Kit—especially when I’m using magic. And you let me handle questioning any witnesses.”
I poked my tongue into my cheek and huffed out a derisive breath. “You know a major part of my job has been interviews, hey? In fact, I seriously doubt you’ve conducted more than I have—”
“Not with suspects you haven’t.” Gus shrugged and offered a hard smile.
He was too dang smug for someone so wrong. “I’ve interviewed dangerous men, Gus. Perhaps not in a criminal investigation, but they were dangerous. I think my record speaks for itself.”
“God knows we all get how talented you are,” he muttered, then picked up his own mug and drained the contents. The look on his face said he wished it was something stronger.
My face flushed hot. “I’m not bragging, just trying to explain that I know how to conduct myself.”
“You ever think maybe my working preferences aren’t about you?” Gus asked as he pushed up from the table and took his cup to the sink.
Well, no. I hadn’t. “I—”
He didn’t let me finish, his shoulders bunching as he deposited it to deal with later.
“Look, why don’t I make us some lunch and by the time we’re done eating they should be finished up over at Ted’s.
We’ll go take a look at the letter and get cleaning.
Tonight I’ll try a tracking spell. If that doesn’t work, I’ve got a meeting with another client tomorrow morning, but in the afternoon, I’ll pick you up and we can take a run at Salter. ”
My tether to reality frayed every second I spent in Gus’ company, but it would take less time with two of us tidying.
Sick to death of feeling too much, I gave in.
“Okay.”