William Bernhardt - Nemesis - The Final Case of Eliot Ness

Ouch. “And you thought you could do more?”

“I-” He swallowed, then started again. “I know why your raid on The Thomas Club failed, sir.”

“I know why it failed, too, kid. Frescone and his men had time to hide the gambling paraphernalia.”

“It’s more than that. From what I’ve heard, The Thomas Club is very elaborate. They have table games-blackjack and poker and stuff. They have off-track betting. Run a policy game. Roulette. They didn’t have time to stash so much stuff, even if they were using lightweight tables with breakaway legs, like some of the parlors do.” He paused. “They did, however, have time to move the people.”

Ness looked at him levelly. “Huh?”

“The people. Patrons. Much easier to move people than all that equipment.”

“Move them from where?”

Chamberlin grabbed a rolled up paper from his briefcase. “May I?”

Ness nodded. Chamberlin spread it across Ness’s desk.

“This is an architectural plan of The Thomas Club. At least as it was constructed, thirty years ago, to serve as a warehouse.”

“Where in the world did you get this?”

“City Hall. They have to be filed to get a building permit.”

Ness rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t know that.”

“Don’t feel bad, sir. Most people don’t. But I did. Because-”

“Because you’re smart.”

Chamberlin averted his eyes. “Yes, sir.” He removed two photographs from his briefcase. “These pics were taken by the press about a month ago, inside The Thomas Club.”

“That’s just like what I saw.”

“But compare it to the blueprint, sir. Notice anything strange?”

It only took Ness a moment. “The building is bigger than it looks. Or was.”

“That’s right. To be specific, what looks like the rear wall, isn’t. There must be a passageway somewhere. A hidden door.”

Ness immediately grasped what Chamberlin was saying. “There’s another room in the back. A hidden room. That’s where they do the gambling.”

“I-I think so, sir, yes.”

Fire lit in Ness’s eyes. “So next time, we raid the rear.”

“I don’t believe it’s quite that simple. They reinforced the front door and the skylight. Even if you find the hidden door or doors, I think you have to assume it’s reinforced as well.”

“Probably doubly reinforced. All right, Bob, this is your operation. How do we get in? Fast enough to catch these crooks in action.”

“I have some thoughts on that, sir.”

“I figured you did.”

“But before I share them, um-could you talk to Chief Matowitz about a full-time appointment? Not just a loan arrangement. I want to work for you.”

Ness looked at him sharply. “Have any idea how much work, how many hours, that might involve?”

“Haven’t I been out with you every night?”

“Good point. Can you keep your nose clean?”

“Absolutely.”

“Got any objection to working days at a time?”

“Not the least.”

“Got a wife?”

“Nope.”

“Probably better that way. You sure you want to do this?”

“I am, sir. My mother says you’re doing God’s own work, right here in Cleveland. I want to be a part of that. I want to help you any way I can.”

Ness grinned, then slapped Chamberlin on the shoulder. “Then you’re on the team, pal. Now tell me how we get into that club.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“There was nothing to tell.”

“You’re saying another woman bein’ butchered is nothing?”

“It happened some time ago. I had no reason to believe there was any connection. Still don’t.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“You should’ve known.”

Merylo bit down on his lower lip, which prevented him from saying what he was thinking. Pearce had always been an arrogant so-and-so, but now he was interfering with Merylo’s ability to do his job, and that was unacceptable. The coroner was supposed to help the team, not hinder it.

“That woman’s torso must’ve been brought to you. How could you forget something like that?”

“I didn’t. I simply didn’t see a connection. And excuse me, but weren’t you on the homicide squad? Why didn’t you remember?”

“Because it wasn’t reported as a homicide.” It was a mistake, meeting Pearce here, in his own inner sanctum. It gave him an edge. A home-team advantage. Should’ve thought of an excuse to make the good doctor come to him. “They had the idea that it was an accidental death. Boating accident.”

“It might have been. The body was too decomposed by the time I got it to draw any definitive conclusions.”

“Whether it was or wasn’t, that shrimp from the News is going to tell people it was. He’s going to say this Torso Killer has been running around Cleveland for more than a year and we haven’t done anything to stop him.”

“I don’t see that this is my problem, much less my fault.”

Lieutenant Zalewski took a tiny step forward, clearing his throat. Pretty pathetic when your greenhorn assistant has to play peacemaker. “I read your report on the first case, Doctor. The Lady in the Lake. Despite the state of decomposition, you wrote that there was something unusual about the texture of the skin.”

“I recall that,” Pearce said, fingering his glasses.

“In fact, you wrote that it was possible the body had been exposed to some sort of preservative.”

“And your point is?”

“His point is obvious,” Merylo barked. “It’s the same thing you said about the Kingsbury Run corpses. It makes a strong case for a connection between the murders.”

Pearce took a cigarette out of his pocket case and lit it. “Perhaps.” He inhaled deeply, then waved it about in the air. Merylo wondered if he used cigarettes as a shield, something to create a barrier between them. “There are other possible explanations. A corpse floating in Lake Erie could be exposed to many corrosive chemicals.”

“No one at the News is going to report that. They’ll go with the obvious. Reporters always do. Nothing can stop them.”

“Of course something can stop them. Catch the killer. That will stop them cold.”

“Do you think I’m not trying?” Merylo could feel his frustration mounting. Soon he wouldn’t be able to suppress the anger. He needed to get himself out of here. He probably wasn’t doing any good, and he risked alienating someone who, like it or not, he needed on his side. “It took two days, but my men found the rest of the last corpse on Orange Avenue, just a few blocks south of where we found the baskets. Everything except the head. Have you examined it?”

Pearce shrugged. “They recovered the upper half of a female torso, minus the right arm, which we already had, and the head. Both lower legs. Mixed with extraneous substances that have been positively identified as charcoal, chicken feathers, and hay.”

“So… our killer is a farmer?”

“I would not jump to any conclusions. None of those substances are difficult to find in the city.”

“Is there anything useful you can tell me?”

Pearce glanced at his report. “The torso was bisected at the second lumbar vertebra. A vertical incision runs the full length of the bottom half. The thighs were significantly obese and severed at the hip. The right arm was severed at the shoulder joint. It evidences signs of rigor mortis. Also”-he drew in his breath-“her complete reproductive system was removed. The whole thing. And half the appendix. And as before, the killer left smooth edges, neat incisions. He is good with a knife.”

“Like-some kind of professional? A doctor?”

“There are any number of people accustomed to dissection or cutting flesh. I personally find the suggestion that the crime might have been committed by someone trained and educated in the medical arts abhorrent and… unlikely in the extreme.”