The Unknown Beloved(89)

“Do I embarrass you?” she asked again, and he realized he’d never answered.

“Why in the world would you think that?” Night had leached the color from her face, making one iris silver, the other black.

“I don’t look like the women on Short Vincent.”

“Oh, you noticed that too, huh?” His voice was dry, and he meant it only as a compliment, but her shoulders drooped.

“I like being with you, Michael. I could have eaten eggs and toast in that booth all night. Nothing would have made me happier. And you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“Ah, Dani. It has nothing to do with that.”

“No?” she challenged.

“No. There isn’t anything about that world—or those places—that I like. Except maybe the jelly toast. I’ve seen too much. I know the underbelly. They make my neck itch and my palms sweat. I got spooked. And I wanted to get you out of there.”

She searched his eyes, like she wasn’t sure she believed him.

“All right,” she whispered.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Okay.” But she didn’t move.

He leaned down, not allowing himself to think about it too long, and touched his lips to hers. “Now get in the car, kid.”

Her lips parted in surprise and her lids were at half-staff, but she immediately obeyed, and he closed the door securely behind her.

“Don’t do it, Malone,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t do it.” But it was already done.





21


Malone asked if he could attend Mass with them on Sunday, which pleased Lenka and irritated Zuzana, though Dani noted Zuzana didn’t refuse the ride or the ice cream he bought them afterward. The only other time he’d attended, Lenka and Zuzana had sat between them, and he’d gone alone after that. When they entered the sanctuary at Our Lady of Lourdes, and Lenka began positioning herself to force them together and Zuzana attempted to keep them apart, Malone put his hand on Dani’s elbow and guided her into the end of a full row with enough room for only the two of them. The aunts had to move two rows down.

Malone sat through Mass with the same expressionless concentration with which he seemed to approach everything, his eyes heavy lidded and his hands clasped in his lap, but for the first time in Dani’s life, Mass was a heady experience. Things she hadn’t particularly enjoyed before became pleasurable. Repeating the prayers and hearing his voice rumble the words. Bowing her head and seeing her skirt against his thigh. Breathing deeply and smelling the soap on his skin and the mint on his tongue.

Sitting quietly with nothing to occupy her hands had always been a challenge, but it occurred to her that it was not lack of focus or a tendency to fidget that had always beset her. It was the constant, nagging worry that she wouldn’t get it all done or, even worse, that there would be no work to do. But in the church, with the drone of Father Kovak’s homily and Malone at her side, she felt nothing but a mellow hum and a blissfully empty head. He didn’t reach for her hand or run his arm along the back of the bench, but his presence was a balm beside her.

He helped her at the morgue Monday morning but was gone for the rest of the day, returning late and leaving as soon as breakfast was over on Tuesday. He spent both days down in the Run, wearing his old boots, a work shirt, and a pair of coveralls she’d given him, along with the checkered hat that had once belonged to poor Ready Eddie.

She had more than enough to keep her occupied but waited anxiously for him to return at the end of each day.

“What are you doing down there?” she asked, sitting across from him at the kitchen table as he inhaled the plate of food she’d set in front of him.

“Listening,” he said. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?” His eyes met hers briefly. “Two detectives walk down there with their notebooks and their shiny shoes, and nobody is going to tell them anything, whether they know it or not. It’s just not worth it.”

“Why?” she asked. “Surely the men in the shantytowns want the Butcher caught most of all.”

“As a general rule, if you want to get along in a place like the Run—or sadly, any of the neighborhoods around here—you don’t go to the police. Especially if you don’t know something for certain. Nobody likes a rat. Especially of the human variety.”

“I wish I could come with you.”

“Yeah . . . that’s not going to work,” he said with a small smile.

“I can’t wear a few layers and an old hat? Dani is a boy’s name.” She was half teasing with the hope that he might shrug and give in.

“There isn’t a man in that camp that would fall for that. But if you can spare some time tomorrow, I could use you.”

“I could get away at about four. Will that work?”

He nodded. “I also . . . had another idea.” He said the words slowly, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say them. “You ever heard of the Spring Gala at St. Alexis?”

“St. Alexis is right across the street, Michael,” she said. Of course she’d heard of it.

“I had Eliot get me two tickets.”

“Are you teasing me, Michael Malone?” she whispered.

“No, Dani Flanagan.” His lips softened in the barest of smiles. “Would you like to go?”