“Ididn’thear that,” he said, leaving the dishes to dry on a small table kiddie-corner to the sink. “Who was it?”
“Paul McCaw.”
“What was he doing in town? Wait—” he remembered, “Christmas trees for the Boy Scouts.”
“Yeah. And Stu Frey tried to come to your rescue, too.”
He came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a paper towel.
“Well, people can’t take the law into their own hands,” he said, tossing the paper towel into a wastepaper basket. “Still, I appreciate the consideration.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
He stepped over to the chair behind his desk and sat down. “So,” he said, rubbing his bad leg, “if you’re not here to interview Horace, what can I do for you?”
“I saw what you did on the street. How you approached Horace and disarmed him. What did you say to him?”
He gestured to one of the textbooks on his desk. “Just used what they call Empathetic Psychology.”
“I thought what you did was really brave, and believe me, I don’t compliment cops.”
“Aw—it wasn’t as brave as you think,” he downplayed. “Horace was riled, but he’s no killer.”
“If you say.”
“Hey,” he said, changing subjects, “did I see you driving around earlier in Peter Banyan’s car?”
“Yeah. He lent it to me so I could do some explorin’ of the area.”
“You two seem to be hitting it off pretty good,” he observed.
“Yeah, we’re friends.”
He nodded slightly, then his eyes drifted away to nothing in particular while she looked at the leg he was still rubbing.
“Your leg hurt?” she asked.
“It acts up sometimes after a long day. Especially when it’s cold.”
“So naturally, you live in Colorado,” she quipped.
“Naturally,” he agreed.
She looked at the leg for a moment, then asked, “What happened?”
His blue eyes shot down to the floor, as if embarrassed, then he rose.
“I appreciate you coming in tonight and your kind words, Goldie. If I can help in any way with the story for your magazine, just let me know. Would you like a lift back to your hotel?”
Clearly getting the message that Eli didn’t want to talk about his leg, she likewise rose and slipped on her jacket.
“No. I’m good, but thanks,” she smiled, zipping herself up.
There was an awkward silence while she pulled out her gloves and put them on. Finally, she asked, “You stayin’ here tonight?”
“No. But I don’t live far.”
“Just goin’ to leave your prisoner here alone?”
