William Bernhardt - Nemesis - The Final Case of Eliot Ness

Of course that was right. Didn’t make any sense that she would be involved. Merylo was embarrassed at himself for asking. Showed just how desperate he was for a clue, for any workable theory.

“Look, Zalewski, you go check on her at the hospital, then let’s meet back at the office at five and see if any reports have come in from the men working the streets. If we-”

“ ’Scuse me. You in charge?”

Merylo looked down at the scrawny man with the camera that was wider then he was. Didn’t recognize him, but the brownie said it all. Press.

“I guess I’m in charge, but I don’t have anything-”

“My name’s O’Rourke. I’m with the Cleveland News. Can you confirm that this is the work of the same killer who left the corpses on Kingsbury Run?”

“I’m not prepared to give interviews at this time.”

“Does that mean you affirm or deny?”

“Neither. I-”

“Is there a police cover-up? Are you hiding something?”

“Don’t be absurd. It’s just-”

“So this is the work of the same killer?”

Merylo cleared his throat. “It’s too early to draw any conclusions. In time-”

“Do you think there’s one killer, or a gang of them?”

“A gang? Look, this kind of yellow journalism isn’t going to help anyone. Let us do our job and if we learn anything-”

“I think you do know something. You’re just not telling.”

“Listen here, O’Rourke.” Merylo could feel his temperature rising. He quickly checked it. Chief Matowitz would not be pleased if he told this man what he thought of him. Of his whole profession. How did Eliot Ness do it? How did he come off so calm, so charming in all those press conferences? He made it look easy and he came off a hero. Merylo always came out looking like a grunting pig. “If we have anything we’ll notify the press. We may need your help disseminating pictures or descriptions. Like we did with Andrassy.”

“What effect do you think this will have on tourism?”

“None, I hope.”

“We’ve got the Expo coming up. The American Legion convention. Is anyone going to want to come to Cleveland after this gets out?”

Merylo wiped his brow. “Honestly, man, have some sense. More people died last week in traffic accidents than this killer has taken.”

“Then you do think this is the work of the same killer?”

Merylo’s eyes darkened. “This conversation is over. I’m leaving. If you have any further questions-”

“Do you think these murders are connected to the Lady in the Lake?”

Merylo stopped in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

“You remember that one, don’t you? The Lady in the Lake?”

“You’re not talking about King Arthur…”

“I’m talking about September of ’35. Guy named LaGassie was walking along the shore of Lake Erie, just east of Bratenahl near Euclid Beach Park. Sees something in the water. Turns out to be the lower half of a woman’s torso, legs cut off at the knees. A couple weeks earlier and about thirty miles east, a handyman found vertebrae and ribs with some rotting flesh attached. People assumed they went together, but I don’t think anyone was ever really sure.”

“When was this?”

O’Rourke checked his notepad. “September 5. Last year.” He beamed. “My paper came up with the name, Lady of the Lake. At the time, people were saying the frail musta gotten caught in a boat propeller, some kinda weird accident. But now…”

Merylo looked at him sternly. “Are you sure about this?”

“Course I’m sure. You don’t believe me, ask your coroner. Pearce was on duty. He must know all about it.”

Merylo felt his chest heaving. That insufferable, uncooperative son-of-

“So what do you think? Did the killer start all this more than a year ago?”

Merylo wrapped his coat tightly around himself. “Of course not. That’s absurd. It’s just a twisted coincidence.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Absolutely. The first victims were the ones we found on Kings-bury Run. Now if you’ll excuse me, man, I’ve got some work to do.”

Merylo strode away before O’Rourke could protest. He didn’t have time to go on jabbering with this flunky. He had too many places to go, people to interview.

Starting with Dr. Arthur Pearce, county coroner.

Robert Chamberlin hunched over Ness ’s desk, feeling as tired and frustrated as he ever had in his entire life. He had been an athlete in his younger days, and he still considered himself to be in excellent shape. So he shouldn’t be completely tuckered out by forty-five minutes of talking. But he was.

“Sir, are you sure about this? You’ve got almost three hundred names here. That’s a third of the force.”

“What surprises you? That there aren’t more? We both know the Cleveland police department is rotten to the core.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can start firing everyone.”

“I’m not firing them. Not all of them.” Ness pointed to the explanatory lines on the chart. “Most are just suspended, like before. Some are being transferred.”

“But-so many!”

“Bob, you know as well as I do that I’ll never be able to go after the mob effectively, or the labor racketeers, or anyone else, if there are spies in the department informing them of every move I make.”

“But sir-you must see that cutting so many people will stir up animosity in the police department.”

Ness leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. “Well, Bob, my general impression is that they’re not all that crazy about me over there as it is.”

Chamberlin burst out laughing. “You may be right about that.”

“I know I am. And I don’t blame them. Now, Matowitz is okay- even after that fiasco at The Thomas Club, he’s getting better press than he has in his entire career. But the rest of the men, the rank and file. Working hard, day in, day out, walking the beat, paid too little and appreciated even less. And then some out-of-town hotshot sails in and starts stealing all the headlines. No, they have every right to their resentment.” He paused. “And I have the right to clean out the dirty ones. Fair’s fair.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”

“Well, I am a college man, you know.”

“I believe I’ve heard the police officers mention that once or twice. And the way you dress. And the way you talk.”

“I can’t help it if my voice is somewhat high-pitched.”

“It isn’t that.”

“Then what?”

“You really want to know?”

“If I didn’t, why would I ask?”

Chamberlin pushed his wire-rims up his nose. “It’s the things you say. Gosh. Gee whiz. Holy moley.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Let’s just say that most of the men on the force go in for more colorful expressions.”

“That kind of talk is for people who haven’t had the education to express themselves more intelligently.”

“Be that as it may, it perpetuates your Boy Scout image.”

“And what’s wrong with being a Boy Scout? Anyway, I want this list of suspended officers on Matowitz’s desk before close of business.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Why did you agree to work with me, Bob? You could’ve stayed with Chief Matowitz.”

“They weren’t using me, sir. Not like they should.”

“And how should they use you?”

“I’m smart, sir. Not to toot my own horn-”

“I think you already did.”

“Well-I don’t care. It’s true.”

“And Chief Matowitz didn’t appreciate you?”

“Mostly had me making coffee. Running errands at the five-and-dime.” He lowered his head. “Walking his wife’s dog.”