The Unknown Beloved: A Novel by Amy Harmon

Author:Amy Harmon [Harmon, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2022-04-18T18:30:00+00:00

They had a lot of ground to cover, and Eliot was always short on time. He parked in an empty lot, turned off the engine, and rolled down the window before taking a lunch box from the back seat and offering Malone two of his sandwiches.

“I made them myself. Even the bread. My father would be proud. He always wanted me to go into the family business.” He took a big bite and sighed. Eliot’s parents had owned a bakery in Chicago, but the fact that Eliot had made the bread—and his sandwiches—told another story.

“Edna hasn’t come back?” Malone asked.

“Nah. She’s not coming back. It’s over.” Eliot’s voice was resigned. “And I’ve got that damned gala at the end of the month. The press—and Congressman Sweeney—are going to have a field day when I show up in tails by myself.”

“Better than showing up with another woman. And why does Congressman Sweeney care?”

“I told you. Politics. It’s all about demonizing the other side. Pointing out the flaws of the opposite team to distract from your own. He hates Burton . . . so he hates me.” He took a big bite of his sandwich and urged Malone to dig in.

“Go ahead. I made extra just for you,” he said around his mouthful. “Peanut butter and honey. They taste like dessert.”

Malone shrugged and accepted. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and he’d been too uptight to eat his fill. He’d been wracked with guilt about kissing Dani. Again.

Amid sticky bites, Malone outlined everything he’d learned in the last few weeks, focusing primarily on the story of Emil Fronek—who still hadn’t been located, according to Eliot—in relation to the medical practice on the corner of Pershing and Broadway and the café butting right up to the stairs.

“It was in ’34, but it seems to me that’s when the Butcher got started. That apartment has seen a stream of characters with medical training. I’ll just have to track them all down. It’s empty now, but I can get in. Poke around. See what’s there.”

“If we can find Fronek and get him here, let him retrace his steps, and even get a description of the guy he thinks drugged him, that’d be something concrete,” Ness said. “We could show him pictures. St. Alexis has photographs of all their staff on file. Even interns. We need to narrow the field. And we need evidence.”

Malone nodded, chewing. Thinking.

“I checked into the kid’s story,” Ness said, moving on. “Pete Kostura was killed in a hit-and-run in December. Damn tragic. He was in one of the boy gangs I’ve been working with. I lit a fire under the detectives on his case. But I don’t know how his death has anything to do with the Butcher.”

“Why? ’Cause his head wasn’t chopped off?”

“Yeah. Not the Butcher’s style,” Eliot said, his cheeks bulging.

“Well, someone ran that kid over. Someone who didn’t live in that neighborhood. Someone with a big, fancy car, like the mayor drives,” Malone said, quoting Dani, who’d been quoting Steve Jeziorski.

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