“You must tell us about yourself, Mr. Malone,” Lenka insisted, drawing his attention back to the dinner table and his present company. “Where are you from? And what brings you to Cleveland?”
He was ready for the questions now, though he would have to stay much closer to the truth of his life than he’d intended. Knowing Dani demanded it.
He gave a glancing biography: Raised in Chicago. Served in the Great War. No children. Wife deceased. Former policeman. Currently worked for the Department of the Treasury.
“And what is it you do for the Treasury Department?” Lenka asked.
“I’m essentially a tax man. I consult with local governments on receiving and meeting the requirements of federal assistance,” he said, then droned on about budgets and public welfare just long enough and drearily enough that they wouldn’t want to inquire again.
“How fascinating,” Lenka said, though she didn’t ask a follow-up question. None of the women did.
Daniela said little, Zuzana even less, though she reiterated that she did not like Irishmen and reacted in horror when he addressed Dani as Miss Flanagan. He didn’t even know what to call her, and calling her Miss Kos felt ridiculous. They had too much history to address each other as strangers. It was like saying Pardon me in a foxhole.
He ate as quickly as was politely possible and excused himself as soon as he was finished. Then he bid the women good night and descended the stairs, knowing he would be the topic of discussion as soon as he shut his door.
“He has said we can keep the rent, all six months, even if he leaves before then,” Dani told her aunts. “He will be a good boarder.”
“Nobody has money like that these days. Not honest men,” Zuzana said, tossing her napkin onto her plate.
“He works for the government,” Lenka protested.
Zuzana scoffed. “So? Never trust the government.”
“He’s quite handsome,” Lenka whispered, though her whisper was louder than her regular speaking voice. “I like a man with a good head of hair.”
“He’s handsome, is he?” Zuzana huffed. “What does he look like then, Lenka. Hmm? You can’t see the buttons on your own frocks without your spectacles. He could look like the dog that hangs around the sandwich shop, and you wouldn’t know the difference.”
“But he doesn’t look like the dog, does he? Not at all. He’s handsome. And well put together. And he smells nice.” Lenka drew in a deep, cleansing breath. “I can smell him all the way up the stairs. He must have just washed.”
“Lenka. Good heavens,” Zuzana snapped.
“It is good to have a man in the house again,” Lenka said, defensive.
The last man in the house had been their brother, Pavel, Daniela’s grandfather, almost fifteen years ago. The youngest, by far, of the four siblings, he’d been the only one to marry and have a family, though neither the marriage nor the family had lasted long. His wife died when his daughter, Aneta, Dani’s mother, was three years old, and she had been raised, primarily, by his three older sisters who had never had families of their own.
“It most certainly is not good to have a man in the house,” Zuzana said. “You’ll not be so glad when he’s chopping you up and throwing you in the Cuyahoga.”
“Daniela says the plates on his car say Chicago,” Lenka answered. “The Butcher’s been carving people up for three years. I doubt Mr. Malone from Chicago is the Torso Killer of Kingsbury Run. And so far, the Butcher doesn’t kill old ladies. You said so yourself, sister.”
“No . . . I suppose not,” Zuzana sulked, as if she enjoyed fearing for her life.
“He’s awfully young to be a widower,” Lenka said.
“I thought the same thing!” Zuzana said, wagging a finger. “He probably killed her too.”
“Zuzana!” Dani gasped.
“I don’t care what he says. He’s shifty. He’s probably running from the law.”
“You heard him. He is the law. So you should be comforted by his presence. We are safer with him here.”
That stumped Zuzana for a moment, but not for long. “You were acting so oddly when he came into the shop. I thought you were having a fit. The next thing I know, you’re escorting him through the house and inviting him to dine with us.”
“I admit . . . I was surprised,” Dani confessed.
“By what?” Lenka asked.
“By him.” Dani lifted her empty glass and set it down again. She might as well air it all out right now. Her aunts did not like talking about Chicago. Or her parents. But she should tell them about Michael Malone, if only to set their minds at ease.
“I met him a long time ago,” Dani explained. “He was the policeman who escorted me here from Chicago after . . . after Mother died. He was very kind to me. He was the one who gave me Charlie, and he took very good care of me on the train. And so it was a surprise to see him today. A strange coincidence. But a welcome one too.”
Zuzana and Lenka stared at her, their mouths gaping. Zuzana shut hers with a snap.
“Goodness gracious,” Lenka breathed. “What a shock that must have been.”
“Does he know who you are?” Zuzana asked.
“Yes. I told him when I showed him the room. He remembered me immediately. Of course, he knew me as Dani Flanagan, so you must forgive him when he calls me by that name. But . . . I think he was as stunned as I.”
“Unbelievable,” Lenka marveled, and Zuzana sniffed.
“That doesn’t mean you know him. You were a child. We know nothing about him now,” Zuzana argued, determined as always to be the voice of dissent.
“No, Tetka. You’re wrong. I know a great deal about him. And he . . . knows . . . about me.”