The Unknown Beloved(8)

“How much does it pay?” It was his first concession, and Ness was ready with the details.

“I’ll take care of your room and board—already got a place picked out for you—and give you twenty a week until you, or someone else, gives me a suspect, wrapped up nice and tight. Or until Irey assigns you somewhere else.”

“Who’s going to talk to me? Nobody knows me in Cleveland.”

“And you’ll be able to get information others can’t. The police chief, Matowitz, put two of his best men on this case, full time. And the next day it was announced in the papers. Big spread.” Ness sighed.

“So everybody sees them coming a mile away and reporters dog their every step,” Malone summarized.

“Yep. The papers have their purpose. Nobody knows that better than I do. But I need someone who isn’t in their sights. Someone I trust. Someone who isn’t connected to anyone in Cleveland. I was brought in by a Republican mayor. For some people, that means I’m the enemy, and they’re always looking to bury me just to get at him.”

“I hate politics. And politicians.”

“You won’t have to answer to any of them. Nobody will even know you’re there. Or at least the reason you’re there. Just me and maybe David Cowles. You remember David? He works for the Scientific Investigation Bureau, and he’s been helping us out. But you won’t have any of that old baggage.”

“I’ve got plenty of baggage.” But suddenly, it felt as though he didn’t. He felt a spark, a glimmer of something he hadn’t felt for a while. Interest. He was intrigued.

And Ness saw the moment he had him. His countenance lightened.

“I’m not working with anyone else, Ness,” Malone warned, shaking his finger at him. “I’m not bunking with a ragtag bunch of trigger men.”

“Calm down. This isn’t the Untouchables . . . exactly. One of the backers suggested we call you the Unknowns. Unknown to the community, unknown to each other. You report to me—anything you find. That’s it. And maybe to Irey, if he sees fit.”

“The Unknowns. Oh, that’s swell.” Leave it up to a bunch of bored rich guys to come up with a name like that for their pet project. The Unknowns. And Ness said it wasn’t the Untouchables.

“There’s a room for rent in a house south of Kingsbury Run. Right across from St. Alexis Hospital in the Czech district. Big, swanky houses along there. Grand at one time. Now they’ve mostly been converted into businesses with living quarters above. But the street is well maintained, and the room will be decent.” Ness shrugged. “Single rooms go fast because so many can’t afford more, but no one wants to live near the Run. That will keep the price reasonable. I’ve put down a deposit to hold it.”

“You were that sure of me?”

“No. I was pretty sure you’d refuse. But the room was too good a location to pass up. If not for you, for someone else.”

“I can’t promise you anything. I’ll call Irey. Then I’ll decide.”

Ness nodded, but they both knew Malone was in.

“You’ve got until January tenth to get to Cleveland. They’re holding the room. You call me when you’re settled.” Ness tapped the paper he’d clipped to the topmost file in the box. “I’ve written the number there, below the address.” He cocked his head. “You still going by Malone? Or do you have a new name?”

“I’m between names.”

“Well . . . use whatever name you want. I had a girl from the office take care of it so I’m not connected. The deposit is in her name. A reference from city hall should clear the way, even if it doesn’t come directly from me.”

“January in Cleveland,” Malone muttered.

“It’ll be fun, Malone.”

“No it won’t,” Malone shot back, and Ness chuckled, satisfied.

“Nah. It probably won’t. But it needs doing. That’s what men like you and me are best at. Doing what needs doing.” He shoved his hat back on his head and buttoned his overcoat. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright from the booze. “Don’t think too hard. You’ll scare yourself. Isn’t that what you used to tell me?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good advice.”





2


“I know it feels soon. But we’ve got to take on a boarder,” Daniela Kos said, forcing a conversation she knew her two aging aunts did not want to have.

“We can’t have a stranger in the house right now, Daniela. Not when we’re all still grieving,” Zuzana said.

“But, Tetka, Auntie, we will always grieve,” Daniela replied gently. She was the youngest of the three women by more than fifty years, but even she knew that. Grief did not leave. It just became part of the patina.

Lenka’s chin wobbled, and she pursed her wrinkled lips. She withdrew three of the straight pins from the waistband of the dress she was constructing and stuck them between her teeth to cover her distress.

For a moment, the three women were all quiet, letting their work distract them. Many days they had no work—no dresses to sew or alterations to make—and they were grateful for the holiday uptick in business. Once upon a time, when the Koses had made beautiful gowns and expensive suits, when there was more work than they could keep up with, they had turned commissions away. Now they took all comers. Now they haggled over prices and settled for rates Zuzana said they hadn’t seen since Daniel Kos had opened his shop in the old neighborhood on Croton Street. And now, Daniel, Eliska, Pavel, Aneta, and Vera Kos were gone.