The Unknown Beloved(37)

Malone was watching her, his droopy eyes kind.

“You know how I feel about that man being mentioned in this house,” Zuzana said, popping the happy memory like a pin to a balloon, and Dani was instantly bereft, the joyful spot of color destroyed.

Malone put down his fork, his gaze narrowing on Zuzana.

“George Flanagan did not kill himself or his wife. I am certain of that,” Malone said evenly. “Whatever else he was, whatever else he did, he did not do that.”

“This is a private, family concern, Mr. Malone. Please do not interfere,” Zuzana clipped.

“Mr. Malone worked on the case, and he thinks it was a mob hit,” Dani said, doing her best to keep her voice even.

“That is not what we were told,” Zuzana said, her jowls quivering.

Malone held Zuzana’s gaze with calm candor. “I know.”

“They were madly in love,” Lenka said, caving first. If Vera had been present, she would have been as outraged as Zuzana. Vera had sworn never to let George Flanagan’s name cross her lips.

“I don’t believe it,” Zuzana snapped.

“Your belief is not required for something to be true,” Malone said. His eyes returned to his plate, and he resumed eating.

“I am weary of your company. So I’ll bid you all good night.” Zuzana stood from the table and stomped out, her cane rapping the wood floor much harder than necessary.

“I suppose we’ll be doing the dishes without Madame Zuzana this evening.” Lenka smiled, unconcerned. “Tell us more, Mr. Malone. Surely you have many things you enjoy. Things that make you feel crazed. Blissful.”

Malone looked at Lenka like he had inadvertently walked into the ladies’ powder room.

“I felt blissful today,” Dani said, compelled to rescue him from Lenka.

“You must tell us,” Lenka insisted.

“I ate a perfect apple,” Dani said. “It wasn’t too hard and it wasn’t too soft. It had a lovely crunch and the juice was both sweet and tart.”

“And you felt bliss?” Malone interjected, his tone wry.

“Yes. Especially on the first bite.”

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Lenka said. “What else makes you happy, dear?”

“Socks,” Dani said.

“Socks?” Malone repeated.

“Warm socks on needy feet.”

“Socks make you feel crazed?” Malone asked, droll.

She laughed. Surely he knew which socks in particular had made her happy.

“Can you imagine life without socks?” she challenged.

He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “No.”

“Your turn, Mr. Malone.” Lenka was not going to give up, and Malone sat back in his chair.

“I like a good cigar,” he said slowly. “The first drag. The way it smells, the way it feels in my mouth. If I smoke too often, I don’t appreciate it as much. So I savor them and only indulge once in a while.”

Lenka was beaming at him like he was a prized pupil. “Go on,” she urged. He thought for a few seconds, and his list got much longer.

“I hate being cold, but I like sunshine in January. When it’s so frigid it bites, yet the sun shines off the snow and warms the top of your hat and the tip of your nose.

“I like the smell of the sea on my sheets and bacon on the stove. I like a close shave and a hot towel around my face. A good pair of socks”—he glanced at Dani—“and peppermint drops. I have a sweet tooth. I don’t think about food all that much. I’m not picky. But if you buy me a bag of candy, I’ll eat it all.”

“Noted,” Lenka said.

“I don’t care for John Philip Sousa or marching bands, but I get excited when I hear a storm. God’s cymbals, my father used to say,” Malone added.

“Excellent!” Lenka clapped. “Anything else?”

“I like an empty church and big dogs. I don’t like small ones. They look too much like rats, and I don’t like rats. And I prefer brown eyes to blue, though if you can have one of each, that’s even better.”

“Oh my,” Lenka said, and Dani felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He was just being kind, but his face was completely serious. He didn’t wink at her or even smile, but stood, signaling he was finished, and began clearing his dishes.

“Oh my,” Lenka said again. “That was wonderful.” But her gaze had grown speculative.





9


Malone spent the morning at the morgue with Dani, who had five bodies to tidy, dress, and write eulogies for. It took them three hours from the moment they left the house, pulling the wagon, until they were back again, mission accomplished. He bathed because it all made his skin crawl, and then spent the rest of the day poring over the files behind his locked door.

Between his long walks and his late nights, he’d begun to chip away at the list of “suspicious professions” in the surrounding areas. There were hundreds of them. He started at St. Alexis Hospital, just because it was nearby, and began putting faces to names and personalities to people. He sat in waiting rooms and roamed corridors and ate in the dining hall, listening to gossip and gathering data.

But today he went back to the files, searching for crumbs and taking notes.