Chapter 4
“I got the strangest letter today.”
Minnette Prentiss was not inclined to use terms like “strange” unless something actually fit the description. She had long been a stickler for precision, both with words and numbers, even before she attained her license as a certified public accountant.
“What was so strange about it?” Derrick, her husband, was sitting at their kitchen counter, opening mail.
He stopped what he was doing as he asked the question.
In five years of marriage, he had learned her tones of voice and knew when she wanted his undivided attention. This was one of those moments.
“For one thing, I don’t know who it’s from. You know that pencil portrait at the Chalice? The one that Uncle Asher did? Apparently, somebody bought it, some old guy, and he wants to give it to me as a gift. He wants me to meet him next Thursday at the fountain. Is that strange or what?”
The look of mild interest on Derrick’s face became one of concerned curiosity — head slightly tilted, eyebrows raised.
“That’s putting it mildly. It sounds dangerous to me. You don’t have any idea who it is? You think it might be a joke? Maybe somebody we know?”
“I don’t have any idea who it is, but I don’t think it’s a joke. Here’s the letter. Read it.”
Derrick did so slowly, the wheels of his legal mind questioning and analyzing even as he pored over the words.
Minnette watched him as he read, looking for clues as to what he was thinking, knowing that his face would make a statement long before his mouth did. She could tell immediately he was intrigued.
Beautiful penmanship.
Expensive paper.
Disarming language.
No last name.
No return address.
Odd but somehow credible.
“It’s not what I expected, but it concerns me.
Whoever he is, he knows who you are and where you live.
But you don’t know either of those things about him.
Maybe Asher or Shep can tell us something about him.
Or somebody else at the coffee shop. That’s where the guy would have gotten the portrait, right? ”
In the six years since Derrick had graduated from law school, he had worked as a prosecutor for the district attorney’s office in Golden. He knew most members of local law enforcement. Perhaps someone at GPD would have some words of caution or counsel concerning the mysterious letter.
“Or maybe we could just show up next Thursday and see what happens.”
Minnette said it with a finality that suggested she had already made up her mind.
Before Derrick could object, she continued.
“I’ve read the letter four times, start to finish, and I could be crazy or naive, but I think it’s totally innocent.
I think there really might be an old man who just wants to do something nice.
What was that phrase you used the other day about the homeless woman on the bike?
‘Benign eccentricity’? Maybe that’s all it is. ”
“And what if you’re wrong?” Derrick asked. “What if he’s a stalker or somebody mad at me for some case I’ve handled? What if he’s the brother of the gang member we sent away for life last month?”
Minnette rolled her eyes. “If it were any of those, I doubt they would have gone to all this trouble just to be a bother. And it looks like he wrote with a fountain pen. On linen paper, no less.” She paused. “You know what I thought at first?”
Derrick leaned forward on the counter, lacing his fingers together. “What did you think at first?”
“I thought it was you.”
Their eyes met.
“I thought maybe you’d bought the picture, like you said you were going to do a month ago. And I thought maybe you’d gotten someone to write in their very best handwriting on this two-dollar paper, and I halfway expect that you’ll be sitting at the fountain on Thursday. Am I right?”
Derrick blushed and grinned. “I wish you were. And I’m sorry I’ve been dragging my feet, but I promise I didn’t write the letter. You don’t really think you should meet the guy, do you?”
“Only if you agree. But I’d like to. We don’t have anything on the calendar for Thursday night. I say we show up, meet the mysterious stranger, and then go somewhere for supper and admire the girl in the picture frame.”
She laughed, then walked around the counter, stood behind Derrick, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nuzzled his cheek.
“I don’t feel very comfortable about this,” he whispered.
“I totally understand. And I’m glad you love me enough to worry about it.
But do this for me: read the letter three more times, with no distractions.
If you don’t think we should go after that, we won’t go.
The risk seems pretty minimal, if you ask me.
It’ll be in broad daylight, people everywhere, and if we don’t like what we see at the fountain, we don’t even have to go there, right?
We can take binoculars and do surveillance from a hundred yards away and then decide what to do.
OK? This might be a story we tell our children someday.
Now, leave and I’ll fix something for supper. ”