“This is why he’s probably never sober,” Grossman responded. “The alcohol makes him functional. But he doesn’t know when to stop.”
Malone did his best to ignore the dark smear that clung to Sweeney’s shoulders and moved with his bulk every time the man was awake. He’d never seen a shadow quite like it, and it unsettled him deeply.
They slept in shifts in a suite across the hall, and Malone had only been back to the house once. He’d washed and changed his clothes, kissed Dani like they were both drowning, and left again to sit in a stinking hotel room and watch Francis Sweeney sweat and shake and shout.
To Dr. Grossman: “You are a doctor? What kind? Couldn’t cut it in surgery, eh? Afraid of a little blood?”
To Leonarde Keeler: “I’ve heard about your little machine. This isn’t science. It’s a parlor trick. I don’t have to answer your questions. Do you know who I am?”
To Malone: “What’s your real name? Why are you here? Have you been following me?”
“My wife is here. Isn’t she?” he would babble. “Mary? Mary? I know you’re here, Mary. She put you up to this, didn’t she, Ness? She told you lies about me. She spends all my money, yet I cannot see my sons. You don’t have any sons, do you, Ness? And your wife left you too. I saw you at the gala. All alone. We should have gone together. Two bachelors about town.”
He demanded to be let out of the room, yelled about his civil rights, threatened Eliot with public crucifixion, and yet seemed almost flattered by his circumstance, as though he was living out a fantasy. His fixation with Eliot was obvious.
“What are you gonna do when this wraps, Mike?” Eliot asked. It was 3:00 a.m. and the two of them were the only ones awake. Grossman and Keeler had retired to beds on the empty floor, and Cowles was asleep in his chair, the lamplight reflecting off his bowed, bald head. Sweeney’s snores buzzed and burbled from the other room.
“I’m going to do what I always do, Ness.”
“What do you always do?”
“I go on to the next job. The next assignment. There’s always another job.”
“And leave her here?”
Malone didn’t have to ask who Eliot was talking about. He’d thought of little else for days. Months.
“You should tell Elmer about her,” Eliot suggested. “They’ll make a whole division for her. Maybe call it the Extra-Sensory Division. The ESD. Daniela Kos, ESD agent. Or maybe Dani Malone, ESD agent.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You could be partners.”
“Eliot.” He sighed at the outlandish suggestion. “She’s a seamstress. She’s a . . . goddamn child. And she has a business, two old biddies, and a terrorist named Charlie to take care of.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from kissing her, though, has it? You had lipstick on your collar the other day when you brought her out to take a look at Sweeney’s suitcoat. You’re attached. Both of you.”
“Yeah. Well.” What could he say?
“But . . . if you’re determined to move on, like you are inclined to do, then I will be making my own bid for Miss Daniela’s skills, maybe as a consultant,” Ness mused.
Malone scowled at him.
“What? You don’t want her, but nobody else can have her?” Ness grinned.
“I didn’t say I don’t want her,” he whispered.
Ness was silent, letting Malone’s declaration hang in the air. And though Malone knew the tactic the man was employing, he wanted to tell him. He needed to tell someone.
“You’ve heard it said, ‘Be careful about what you ask for’？”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t ever ask for anything. Ever. That way God can’t exact a price.”
“You don’t pray?”
“Not really. I’m Catholic. I just confess.”
Eliot snorted like Malone was kidding. He wasn’t.
“I would never have asked for her, Eliot. I would have kept my feelings to myself. But she knows everything. I couldn’t hide it from her.” Even saying the words embarrassed him, and he didn’t look at Ness.
“And she likes you too?” Eliot asked.
“She seems to. Yes.”
“Well, hallelujah.” Eliot raised his cup toward the ceiling.
Malone groaned, but the words came a little faster. A little easier. “She could do so much better, Ness. She’s young. And she’s beautiful. And smart. And kind. Her goodness makes me . . . itch. She makes me itch.”