William Bernhardt - Nemesis - The Final Case of Eliot Ness

“Good. Then I would be very much honored if you two gentlemen would become my primary field lieutenants on this case. You will work directly for me. I’ll arrange everything with Chief Matowitz. You report to me, or if I’m unavailable, to my assistant. And no one else. Not even your buddies on the force. Not even the press.”

“I thought you liked the press,” Merylo said.

“No, my friend, I use the press. Those are two totally different things. At any rate, that’s my job, not yours. I want no leaks.”

Zalewski appeared flush with excitement. “Does this mean we’re going to be Untouchables?”

Ness thought for a moment. That was almost a good idea. But Merylo was too well-known, too high-profile. All he could perform were official duties. What if he had a group of people out of the spotlight? People who could go beyond official duties…

Ness smiled. “You’re already untouchable, officers, as far as I’m concerned. Now we’ve got to be unbeatable.”

“Yes, sir!” Zalewski actually saluted.

“All right then. Get to work. I’ll expect a report at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. And every morning thereafter until this murderer is caught. I’ll be formulating a plan, and as soon as I complete it, I’ll give you specific instructions. I will expect to see them implemented expediently and effectively. So you’d best get started.”

He watched as the two men left the office. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. In the past, he’d always obtained the best results by creating his own team, rather than adopting the men already in place. But he needed men with police experience, real crime-solving skills. With Capone, they already knew who was behind the crimes; they just needed the evidence to bring him down. In this case, they had no idea who-or what-they were fighting.

He had spoken rashly to the press. If he didn’t deliver, they would eat him alive like the piranhas they were. And there were other considerations…

Involuntarily, his mind returned to the postcard he had received. He had not turned it in to the police, nor had he given it to the Bertillon department for analysis.

It was possible it was a fake. One of the nuts all this press coverage was sure to shake off the tree.

But what if it wasn’t? What if the killer saw this as a personal grudge match? A battle between him and the Fed who supposedly brought down Capone?

The man who wrote that postcard knew where he lived. And Edna.

He returned to his desk. He had implemented the first part of his assault on the so-called Torso Murderer. Now it was time to implement Phase Two.

It occurred to Merylo, once again, that he should have requested that this meeting take place somewhere other than the coroner’s office. The front lobby was too busy and Dr. Pearce’s office was too small, so the only logical place to have the meeting was in the autopsy room. And the fact that Merylo had been here more than a dozen times on various cases had not in the slightest altered the fact that the place gave him the heebie-jeebies. Happily, there were no corpses currently on display, but there had been before, and there would be again. He couldn’t help but look at each of the compartment doors that lined the south wall and wonder whether there was a headless body hidden behind it.

Merylo had pushed the operating table to one side and arranged some folding chairs in the center of the room. Zalewski was seated beside him. “Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they’re coming?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re late.”

“Well, they’re important people.”

“Which ones? The doctors, or the safety director?”

“All of them.”

“In that order?”

Merylo allowed himself a thin smile. “No comment.”

Through the glass-windowed door Merylo saw the good doctor Arthur Pearce enter the room with another man of the same height but considerably slimmer build. He wore glasses, thick ones, and he was clutching a black leather bag. He was wearing a checked suit, too big for him, and even more notably, no hat.

“Kraut,” Zalewski whispered under his breath. “Probably a hebe, too.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I’m just sayin’-”

“I haven’t heard any characters named ‘Zalewski’ on Jack, Armstrong lately.”

“I’m just sayin’. I never cared much for Krauts.”

The two men entered the room. Eliot Ness was just a few steps behind them.

“Detectives,” Dr. Pearce began, “let me introduce you to my colleague, Dr. Ernst Hunstein.”

The two detectives rose, but the new doctor did not extend a hand.

“I believe you’ve already met the safety director.”

Merylo tipped his hat slightly. “We’ve had the pleasure, yes.”

“We are most fortunate to have the opportunity to consult with Dr. Hunstein. He has only in the past year emigrated from Germany.”

Zalewski gave Merylo a decided “told-you-so” look.

“I’m surprised you could leave the Fatherland,” Zalewski said. “I hear most of you people like to stay home.”

“I love my home,” Hunstein said. His voice was quiet, and between that and the thick accent, he was difficult to understand. “But I now reside in New York. Given the changes of late, the Nuremberg Laws against my people, I thought it best to leave as have so many others.”

“You talking about Happy Hitler?”

Hunstein’s eyes narrowed. “That is not how we refer to him in Germany. Are you familiar with the actions of the Führer?”

Zalewski hedged. “I saw him in a newsreel once. This summer, at the Berlin Olympics.”

“Ah. Of course. Your Jesse Owens performed very well. He won four gold medals, I believe. Hitler was not happy about that.”

“He probably didn’t like seein’ his medals leave Germany.”

Hunstein fingered his glasses. “I do not believe that was the problem.”

“Didn’t Hitler get ninety-nine percent of the vote in the elections?”

Hunstein sighed. “That is what they say.”

Merylo figured this was a good time to intervene. “Dr. Pearce says you’re some kind of head doctor.”

“I am an alienist, yes. I studied under Dr. Freud himself.”

“And he thinks you might be able to help us on this case.”

“And you are skeptical of this, no?”

Merylo’s head pulled back. How had he known that? “Well… it isn’t how we usually go about our police work.”

“Perhaps it should be.”

“The tried-and-true methods-”

“Have not caught this criminal. Possibly if you had brought me in sooner, the killer would not have remained at large for so long.”

Merylo did his best to hide his irritation. “Yeah, and possibly if the moon were made of green cheese we’d all be fat and happy, but who’s to say?”

Dr. Hunstein bowed his head. “Indeed. It is all a matter of speculation.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Merylo said, “but we’ve got a lot of work to do, plus reporters checking up on every move we make, so if you don’t have anything for us-”

“I have taken the liberty of reviewing the police documents my colleague Dr. Pearce was able to obtain from Chief Matowitz and the safety director. I have spent the past three days doing so.”

Three days? That slowed Merylo down. “Then you know that we’ve done a lot of work, but haven’t found information that would tell us anything useful about this killer.”

“I disagree entirely. I was able to discern a great deal from reading your files. Most interesting.”

Merylo’s eyebrows crinkled. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you know who the killer is?”

“No. I cannot tell you who the killer is. But I can tell you what he is.”