“How old are you, Mike?” Eliot asked softly.
“I’m almost forty years old.” He felt twenty-five. And ninety-two.
“Forty years old. Still got a full head of hair and a flat stomach. Still got that sour attitude that women inexplicably clamor to, and a face no one can place. You’re free now, Mike. Come to Cleveland and help me catch a bad guy.”
“There’s not a single reason why I’d go to Cleveland, Eliot. Leave those files here. That’s what’s in the box, isn’t it? I’ll look them over. Give you my impressions.”
“Nah. I’ll leave the files. But you aren’t going to solve this looking at files. That’s not how it works, and you know it. Detective Merylo, a guy assigned to this case, seems to think the Butcher rides the train cars with the transients and bums, and that’s how he finds his victims. Nobody is better at blending in than you are. And nobody will recognize you and blow your cover. We’ve had a few of our local guys try it only to be made pretty quickly.”
“How much does it pay?” It was his first concession, and Ness was ready with the details.
“I’ll take care of your room and board—already got a place picked out for you—and give you twenty a week until you, or someone else, gives me a suspect, wrapped up nice and tight. Or until Irey assigns you somewhere else.”
“Who’s going to talk to me? Nobody knows me in Cleveland.”
“And you’ll be able to get information others can’t. The police chief, Matowitz, put two of his best men on this case, full time. And the next day it was announced in the papers. Big spread.” Ness sighed.
“So everybody sees them coming a mile away and reporters dog their every step,” Malone summarized.
“Yep. The papers have their purpose. Nobody knows that better than I do. But I need someone who isn’t in their sights. Someone I trust. Someone who isn’t connected to anyone in Cleveland. I was brought in by a Republican mayor. For some people, that means I’m the enemy, and they’re always looking to bury me just to get at him.”
“I hate politics. And politicians.”
“You won’t have to answer to any of them. Nobody will even know you’re there. Or at least the reason you’re there. Just me and maybe David Cowles. You remember David? He works for the Scientific Investigation Bureau, and he’s been helping us out. But you won’t have any of that old baggage.”
“I’ve got plenty of baggage.” But suddenly, it felt as though he didn’t. He felt a spark, a glimmer of something he hadn’t felt for a while. Interest. He was intrigued.
And Ness saw the moment he had him. His countenance lightened.
“I’m not working with anyone else, Ness,” Malone warned, shaking his finger at him. “I’m not bunking with a ragtag bunch of trigger men.”
“Calm down. This isn’t the Untouchables . . . exactly. One of the backers suggested we call you the Unknowns. Unknown to the community, unknown to each other. You report to me—anything you find. That’s it. And maybe to Irey, if he sees fit.”
“The Unknowns. Oh, that’s swell.” Leave it up to a bunch of bored rich guys to come up with a name like that for their pet project. The Unknowns. And Ness said it wasn’t the Untouchables.
“There’s a room for rent in a house south of Kingsbury Run. Right across from St. Alexis Hospital in the Czech district. Big, swanky houses along there. Grand at one time. Now they’ve mostly been converted into businesses with living quarters above. But the street is well maintained, and the room will be decent.” Ness shrugged. “Single rooms go fast because so many can’t afford more, but no one wants to live near the Run. That will keep the price reasonable. I’ve put down a deposit to hold it.”
“You were that sure of me?”
“No. I was pretty sure you’d refuse. But the room was too good a location to pass up. If not for you, for someone else.”
“I can’t promise you anything. I’ll call Irey. Then I’ll decide.”
Ness nodded, but they both knew Malone was in.
“You’ve got until January tenth to get to Cleveland. They’re holding the room. You call me when you’re settled.” Ness tapped the paper he’d clipped to the topmost file in the box. “I’ve written the number there, below the address.” He cocked his head. “You still going by Malone? Or do you have a new name?”
“I’m between names.”