“Must we try everything to know something is wonderful?” she asked softly. “I don’t think so.”
She had him there. He took another step back from her and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, determined not to think about how truly wonderful it had been.
“Do you think you might be afraid of falling in love with me too?” she asked, her voice trembling. Was it fear that he would say yes? Or fear he would say no?
“Oh, Dani,” he said, feeling an ache in his chest that he couldn’t readily identify. But again, he could not answer her question.
“Is it too soon?” she asked gently. “Irene has not been gone very long.”
“Yes, it’s too soon,” he said. It would always be too soon. And it didn’t really have anything to do with Irene. At least . . . not in the way Dani meant.
She nodded, accepting that in silence, and he stared past her face for several seconds, collecting himself. He needed her to go, but she remained where she was, hands clasped and her eyes on the floor.
“Steve came by when you were gone,” she said in a rush.
“Steve?” He frowned, reeling at the change of subject. His legs were still trembling from that kiss.
“The boy who gave you the checkered cap? He was wearing your fedora and your overcoat. I found him standing in front of the house. He wanted to talk to Mike. I assumed that was you.”
He waited.
“He said he would check back, but he had some information you might want to know. He also said you would pay him. So I gave him a dime, and he told me instead. I promised to pass along the information.”
“W-what?” Malone sputtered.
“He seemed eager to tell someone.”
“Dani!”
“Yes?” Her brow furrowed.
“This is not a game. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Do you want to know what he said or not?” she snapped, throwing up her hands, revealing her own loss of equilibrium. “And you owe me a dime.”
“Tell me,” he ground out, clenching his teeth over a sudden urge to laugh, and she obeyed, parroting the conversation seemingly word for word—he said, then I said—like she was afraid of missing something.
“I don’t think the boy—Steve—is really afraid he’ll be run down like Pete Kostura,” she finished, worrying her lower lip.
“No?”
“No. Otherwise he would have told you about Kostura’s death when you first met. I think he wants to string you along, keep you coming back to him for information.”
“Yeah, well that’s the life of a snitch. He’s figured it out early.”
“But, Michael . . . when he said someone was asking questions about you, and you didn’t come home . . . I was afraid.”
He sighed, ashamed of himself. None of this was Dani’s fault. Not really. But he needed her to keep her distance from him and from his work.
“I am sorry I frightened you. I will be more mindful in the future,” he promised. He made himself meet her gaze, and the weakness in his limbs immediately returned. He sat down on his bed, suddenly too weary to stand. “We still have to talk about you . . . touching my things. But not now. Tomorrow.”
She looked like she wanted to defend herself, to continue hashing it all out mere feet from each other, but she swallowed back whatever it was that bubbled in her throat and let it be.
“Good night then, Michael,” she whispered.
“Good night, Dani.”
She left the room with an averted gaze and clenched hands, and pulled the door closed behind her. But when he turned out the lamp and climbed into his bed, no longer tired and longing for things he thought he’d moved beyond, he remembered the cat beneath it.
“Damn it, Charlie,” he sighed. But he rose once more and, padding to the door, left it ajar for the first time.
13
Malone came to breakfast the morning following his return, but he ignored Dani so thoroughly she wished he’d stayed away. Lenka beamed and Zuzana scowled, and Michael apologized to the women for any worry he’d caused. He included Dani in his comments, though he never looked directly at her.
“I confess I’m not accustomed to logging my whereabouts with anyone, but I should have mentioned that my work would lead to frequent and sometimes prolonged absences,” he began.
“Surely your wife minded you flitting off for days without a word,” Zuzana said, slathering butter on a bit of toast, her tone as crusty as the bread.
“My wife and I were estranged for many years. So no. She did not mind,” Michael said, voice equally dry.
“I can’t say I am surprised,” Zuzana retorted, blotting at the crumbs on her lips. “You’re a very difficult man to live with.”
“Tetka,” Dani cautioned. “He is not.”
“I have never seen you fret the way you fretted,” Zuzana argued. “It was very rude of Mr. Malone to gallivant off like that.”
“I will try to be more courteous in the future,” Michael said stiffly. He swallowed his orange juice in a single gulp, cleared his plate with the focus of a starving, harried man, and pushed back from the table.
“Daniela called Eliot Ness,” Lenka chirped, not ready to let him go. “Did he find you?”
“No. He did not. I did not need to be found, as I’m sure he was aware. But I will call Mr. Ness right away and reassure him that I am quite all right. And I will be in and out all week, so don’t expect me at meals.”
“We will have Margaret leave something for you in the icebox,” Lenka said cheerily, and smiled at him like she was thrilled to have him back. He strode from the room without a backward glance.
He’d told her it was too soon, and Dani had no choice but to believe him. But as the week passed and another began with Malone keeping his distance, she became more and more embarrassed. She liked him too much, and she was humiliated by her response to him and his avoidance of her. By the end of the next week, she’d worked herself into a lather over his dismissiveness, making her mission all the easier to perform.