“Yeah. The dining hall doubles as a ballroom. It has a stage where the orchestra sits, and they clear the center of tables for dancing. People dress to the nines—full tails and evening gowns—and it’s quite the event. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had a wife.”
Cowles shifted uncomfortably, and Ness blushed like he hadn’t meant to say that last bit. He laughed at himself, sheepish. “On the bright side . . . maybe after the gala the papers will be talking about my love life and ignoring the fact that I can’t seem to find the Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run.”
Cowles didn’t look optimistic. “Can’t we do it any sooner? Next Saturday is more than a week away. We need a direction, Malone. We’ve got nothing. If you think your expert can give us something new, I want to talk to her now. Tonight.”
“You get a call from Irey, Cowles?” Malone asked. Ness’s eyebrows shot up, and the bureau man’s shoulders sank.
“Yeah. I did. Lotta talk about Germany winning the propaganda war and Cleveland getting their federal contracts pulled if this thing doesn’t go away immediately.”
“I got that call too,” Malone said. “David’s right, Ness. Sooner is better.”
“Well, damn.” Ness sighed, scrubbing at his face. “So that’s how it is? I’ve been wondering when the brass was going to start throwing their weight around. How long do I have?”
“We need a break,” Cowles said. “We need it now.”
“Or what?” Ness pressed, grim.
“Or all your programs—work with the boy gangs, traffic safety, police reform—it won’t mean a thing,” David answered, frank. “Mayor Burton will let you take the fall just to make it look like somebody’s doing something. I heard he’s going to run for Senate next go-round, just to get out of Cleveland. But everyone’s gunning for you, Ness.”
Ness looked at Malone. Malone stared back. Ness didn’t get petulant or accusatory. He just clasped his hands and crossed his legs. “Well . . . then we better not wait. Can you get Miss Kos back here tonight, Mike? This place will be a ghost town by eight o’clock. Cowles can arrange for the evidence to be brought here. He’ll vouch for chain of custody, and we’ll keep it by the book. That way you don’t have to deal with anyone but us and maybe a couple officers to escort the boxes back and forth, but they can be outside the room. That way no clerk working the evidence locker will know you and Miss Kos are involved, and we won’t have any detectives dropping by and seeing us there.”
Malone promised to have Dani at city hall at eight o’clock. He had no doubt she would be willing and eager. But he felt sick. He’d been dragging his feet, trying to get out of it, and now he was committed. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he could endure another encounter with whatever had dropped Dani in a cold faint.
Dani told her aunts Malone was taking her to the picture show after dinner. Lenka looked so tickled and Zuzana so stricken that Malone almost confessed, not sure which reaction alarmed him most. But Dani couldn’t very well tell them the truth, so they left the house at seven thirty, too early for the eight o’clock show at the Olympia, but it worked as an alibi.
“Don’t wait up,” Dani told them, and Malone studiously avoided looking directly at either aunt.
Dani was excited, her cheeks bright and her back so straight it didn’t touch the seat. He did his best to give her an idea of what he thought she could expect, and when they pulled up in front of city hall, he didn’t bring her in through the entrance but circled around the massive edifice to an unmarked side door, where Ness was waiting, having a smoke, just as they’d planned.
He didn’t make introductions—that could happen inside—but Ness glanced at him as she stepped past, a darting look of bafflement, and Malone knew what he was thinking. Dani wasn’t at all what Malone had led him to believe.
They were met by Cowles in a room filled with a long conference table stacked with boxes marked with case numbers, and Malone shrugged off his overcoat and took Dani’s, tossing them over a chair.
“How do we want to do this, Miss Kos?” Ness asked. “The victims are numbered, and we don’t have evidence—not clothing, at least—from all of them. Do you have a preference for the order or way in which we proceed, and do you mind if David and I take notes?”
“Uh, no. Of course not. I’m sure Michael will as well. He has a penchant for lists.” She blushed as if she’d said too much. “But I would actually prefer . . . not to know which victim the item was found with. I don’t want to know anything that might cause me to make . . . assumptions about what I’m seeing. I would really rather not know anything at all.”
It was a good idea. Malone should have thought of it himself.
“The case numbers won’t give that away,” Cowles said. “And I haven’t organized the evidence, as I wasn’t certain about how we would proceed. It’s all just . . . here.” He indicated the boxes. “We’ll be able to cross reference what the items are after you have a look, so that we know which victims we’re dealing with.”
“So . . . just garments?” Ness asked.
“Leather. Burlap. Cloth. Anything fabric,” Malone instructed. “Just let her hold on to it for a minute and give us her impressions. I’ll jot down what she says and put a description and a case number notation along with it. You and David can do the same if you like. But I’ll be taking my notes with me, for my own reference.”
“Let’s proceed then,” David said, the expression on his face an indicator that he didn’t expect much. Malone’s stomach twisted, but he took a seat and accepted the pad of paper and the pencil Eliot offered him. Dani remained standing beside him.