The Unknown Beloved(64)

“Oh no,” Dani cried. “How terrible.”

“It really was,” Sybil said, shaking her head.

Malone studied the woman for a moment, not sure if he could believe anything that came out of her mouth. “That’s a shame. Who lived there before Bartunek?”

“There have been a few every year.” She shrugged. “Just like I told you.”

“Anyone ever live up there all alone? I mean . . . before Bartunek. I’m thinking as far back as ’34. Dr. Peterka didn’t claim income on the space that year. If I can clear that up, it’ll save him an audit.”

He could almost hear her inward groan. Her pique at his questions became a grimace of dread. An audit would mean more work for her, no doubt.

She screwed up her red lips and tapped her chin.

“I can’t say for sure. Dr. Peterka handles the renters. It’s his house. Maybe that was when Dr. Frank was here.”

“Dr. Frank?”

“He stayed there for a while when he and his wife split. He didn’t stay long either. Maybe a year. It’s hard to remember.”

“Where is he now?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she pouted. He thought she probably did. He thought she probably made it her business to know every detail about the doctors in the practice.

“You wouldn’t or you don’t?” he pressed.

“I wouldn’t and I don’t.” Her red lips were turned down and her chin was puckered with distaste. She’d decided she wasn’t interested in him after all, or maybe she’d divined his complete disinterest in her.

“Why did he leave?” he asked, mild. Time to play on her vanity. “I’m guessing not much happens around here without your supervision.”

Slight hesitation and a darting look at Dani. Dani shrugged, indicating she couldn’t answer the question. The volume of Sybil’s voice dropped. She enjoyed gossip. “He drank too much, I think. And he wrote some prescriptions for people who . . . didn’t need what he was prescribing. Dr. Peterka felt bad that he had to force him out. They grew up together. Old friends, you know? Dr. Peterka told Dr. Frank he could come back when he dried out. I think it was probably the reason his marriage failed too, though he always seemed so sweet to me. And funny too. I liked him.”

“But he hasn’t? He hasn’t come back?”

“No. I haven’t seen him since.” Sybil sighed, as if it were a terrible tragedy that she regretted relaying.

Malone thanked her and tucked his credentials back in his pocket, tipping his hat as he led Dani out of the establishment.

“I’ll be back to talk to Dr. Peterka, Sable. But you’ve saved him a lot of trouble. I’ll make sure to tell him how helpful you were.” She frowned and he winked, pulling the door closed behind him.

“You didn’t stick to the plan,” Dani said, descending the front steps. He waited until they were beyond the front windows of the practice.

“No. That plan wasn’t going to give me names and dates. And she made me angry.”

“But . . . what if she tells Dr. Peterka that a tax man was here, asking questions?”

“Is Dr. Peterka the one chopping people up and throwing their bagged bodies into the Cuyahoga?” he asked her, tone dry.

Dani took the question literally. “No. I don’t think he is.”

“And what about the others on staff?”

“I’ve never felt anything suspicious on the coats.”

“The coats?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Margaret launders the doctors’ coats every week. I gather them sometimes, from the doctor’s lounge. But only for the last two years. Before that, I think the partners must have brought their coats home to their wives.”

He drew up short and stared down at her.

Then he took her by the hand and turned back toward the practice. “Show me.”

Her hand felt right in his, and he didn’t let it go, even when it was clear where she was leading. The back door of the establishment was unlocked, just like the front.

“The doctors all come and go this way,” Dani said in explanation. She stuck her head inside to see if the coast was clear. Then she darted in to survey the contents of the bin.

It was Friday and the bin was full.

“We’ll save Margaret a trip if we take them now, but I don’t have my wagon or any laundry bags,” she worried. “There are too many to carry, and they’re soiled, though not terribly.”

He strode in, picked up the bin, and walked back out again. It wasn’t heavy, only awkward.

“That will work too,” Dani said, hurrying after him.

“The coats are interchangeable, for the most part, and they’re laundered every week,” Dani explained when they were back at the house, the bin of white coats sitting beside the table Margaret used for folding. Margaret was presently upstairs in the kitchen, and he and Dani wasted no time with their search. Actually, Dani searched, and he watched her, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, his gaze on her face. She never closed her eyes when she read the cloth, which always unnerved him. Instead her face went soft and her pupils expanded, crowding out the colors.

He imagined it was how she would look if he made love to her.

“What are you seeing?” His voice was harsh and impatient, and she flinched. He had embarrassed himself and taken it out on her. “Eliot will be here soon. I haven’t got much time,” he added, adjusting his tone.