The knocking had ceased, and when she opened the door, Macey found not only Mrs. Gutchinson on the threshold, but another, completely unexpected visitor.
"Do you know this man?" demanded the landlady.
Grady was standing in front of her door.
"I-uh. . . " Macey didn't know what to say. What are you doing here? was only going to send Mrs. Gutchinson into a tizzy.
"Top of the morning, Miss Denton," he said smoothly, his brogue thicker than she remembered.
He was dressed in a gray coat and vest, stylishly baggy flannel trousers, a white shirt that could use an iron, and black scuffed shoes. The same hat she'd seen on him the first day they met covered his sable hair, tipped back into a more stylish position on his head. His square chin and jaw were dusted with dark stubble, making him look a little disreputable, a little dangerous. . . and a lot attractive. "I see you're on your way out. "
"Indeed I am," she said with as cool a tone as she could muster. Her mind was darting in a myriad of directions: he'd learned her full name and address since last night, he hadn't been thrown in jail (or killed) after the raid at The Gyro, he was acting as if they knew each other much better than they did, and he'd washed the ink off his hands.
She wasn't certain whether to be flattered or annoyed he'd tracked her down so easily.
"I could be giving you a lift," he said. "My automobile is parked on the street below. "
"Do you know this gentleman?" Mrs. Gutchinson demanded again, casting irritated glares between them. She despised being uninformed. "He says he's from the Tribune. "
Macey detected conflicting notes of suspicion and interest in her landlady's voice and decided Grady was the lesser of two evils-at least for the moment. He did, after all, have a car. "He's from the Tribune," she said, hoping it was true after all, "and he's interviewing me about a new collection we just received at the library. And he's late. I expected you thirty minutes ago," she added with a sharp look at him.
"My apologies, Miss Denton. " His. The chill at the back sly eyes glinted with humor. "We'd best be leaving, then, so you aren't any more tardy than you already are. "
Macey had already pulled her door shut behind her, and she quickly locked it. "Have a nice day, Mrs. G. " She started down the steps to the main floor.
Her landlady might have said something, but Macey wasn't waiting to be accosted further, and the sound of their feet clunking down the stairs drowned out Mrs. G's voice.
Once outside, she paused and, of necessity, waited for Grady to indicate which automobile was his. It turned out to be a dark blue Ford Model T, one of the closed models that kept the dust and weather out. It was neatly parked, gleaming in the mid-morning sun.
She looked back and wasn't surprised to see the lace curtain twitching at Mrs. G's window. The elderly woman could certainly move quickly enough when she wanted to. Nosy thing.
Grady opened the auto's door and Macey hesitated. She didn't really know this man. And after what had happened last night, she was more than a little apprehensive. Things were all off-kilter.
"My uncle's a cop," Grady said, amusement tingeing his voice. "He'd be about punching my lights out if I so much as ruffled your skirt or mussed your hair. "
She gave him an exasperated look. "Only if he knew about it. You could stash my body somewhere in an old house or freight tunnel, and no one would ever know the difference. "
He laughed and she climbed into the car, adjusting her scarf to make sure it still hid the vampire bites. And she couldn't help but notice the admiring look he gave her stockinged legs just before he shut the door. Macey smiled to herself.
Settling into his seat, Grady pushed the electric starter in the floor and the car rumbled alive. "Thank Pete we're not having to crank these lousy things anymore. " Then, one wrist resting casually on the steering wheel, he turned to look at her. "Where are we going?"
"Harper Library at the university. " Her voice was clipped, for she was irritated he'd still given no explanation for his appearance-and didn't seem to have any intention of doing so. And here she was, following his lead with no questions asked. Macey's irritation turned inward. She'd played right into his plans. . . whatever they were.
Nevertheless, she waited until he started driving before asking, "And. . . ?"
He stopped at an intersection and turned to look at her. "And. . . you're wanting to know why I'm about showing up on your doorstep today. "
"The thought never occurred to me. Why, it happens nearly every day that a man I don't even know, and who doesn't even know my name, tracks down my home and appears there, offering to give me a ride somewhere he doesn't even know where IQ.
Grady chuckled and accelerated the automobile. "I didn't figure you'd be wanting to stand and discuss all this while your hatchet-eyed landlady observed from her window. "
"Hatchet-eyed?"
He shrugged. "I'm a writer. Hazard of the trade. " The remnants of his smile faded, and he took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at her. "I was wanting to make certain you'd gotten home all right last night. That was an awful. . . thing that happened, and I lost track of you in the melee. "
"But you didn't know my name," she said, mollified by his confession. Although he'd figured out where she lived and that she didn't have a boyfriend. . .
"What do you think took me so long? I would have been here sooner if I h