“But Edward isn’t a bachelor,” Dani said, frowning. Her innocence had Sybil rolling her eyes.
She reminded him of Dani’s old neighbor, Mrs. Thurston, full of suggestion and innuendo, trying to find an angle. He also didn’t like that she couldn’t remember Dani’s name. People did that on purpose. You didn’t consistently get someone’s name wrong unless you were trying to insult them. The woman was probably jealous. Women were odd that way. Maybe it was instinctual, but it wasn’t attractive.
“I want a list of who has stayed up there, Sable.”
“Sybil. It’s Sybil.”
“That’s right,” he said, level-eyed.
“Dr. Peterka’s brother-in-law lived there last.”
“Good. And what was his name?”
“Bartunek. Jacob Bartunek.”
“How long ago was that?”
“He . . . left . . . last summer.” She wasn’t telling him something.
“And how long did he live here?”
“It wasn’t very long. Four or five months. Six at the most.”
“I’d like to talk to him. Could you get me an address?”
“No.” She frowned, but her eyes were lively with a secret she couldn’t wait to tell.
“Why not?” he grunted. “He was related to Dr. Peterka. A brother-in-law, you said? Surely you can get me an address.”
“The poor dear is dead. Suicide. Not here, thank goodness. Can you imagine finding the body? It was after he left. When he gave up his internship and went back home. Dr. Peterka was devastated.”
“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.