William Bernhardt - Nemesis - The Final Case of Eliot Ness

“Now wait just a minute,” O’Donnell said. “It’s one thing to have you come look around but where do you get off-”

“Five feet seven,” Ness said, cutting him off.

“Uhh… come again?”

“This hook in the ceiling. It’s five feet seven inches off the ground.”

“So?”

“So perhaps you can explain to me how a man who was five feet eight could hang himself from a hook that was only five feet seven inches off the floor.”

Ness ’s inquiry was met with stony silence.

“I think perhaps it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Ness.”

“You won’t get away with this, O’Donnell.”

“The door is this way.”

“I don’t know why you thought you had to do this. I don’t know if you and your squad of hooligans fancy yourselves some kind of avenging lynch mob, or if it’s that you knew your case wouldn’t hold up in court. Or a combination of both. But you won’t get away with it.”

“You’re talking through your hat. You’ve got nothing. No one is going to care about how many inches high some hook is.”

Ness smiled thinly. “Ever seen a man hanged before, Sheriff?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“I have.” Ness crouched down beside the corpse. “Hanging leaves a very characteristic mark, because the back of the noose hangs higher than the front due to the upward pull of the rope. Makes a V-shaped scar.” He pulled the sheet covering the corpse down slightly. “But as you can see, the bruising on Dolezal’s neck circles the middle of his neck. There’s no upward slant.” Ness replaced the sheet. “He didn’t hang. He was strangled.”

O’Donnell squared himself directly in front of Ness. “You’re asking for trouble, Mr. Safety Director.”

“No, you asked for trouble,” Ness replied, looking right back at him, not flinching an inch. O’Donnell’s men moved in closer. Ness ignored them. “First, when you decided to mess around with my case. Second, when you decided to take a human life. And you will pay for that, Sheriff. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will believe you. They’ll say you’re just bitter because you didn’t catch the killer. You’ll look like a fool.”

“Well, I’ve looked foolish before,” Ness replied. “But I never killed anyone to cover up my own incompetence. Or political bias. That might be something you want to keep in mind.” He placed his hat on his head and started toward the door. “Thank you for your trouble, gentlemen. I’ll see myself out.”

From the July 6, 1937, Cleveland News:

“… while the National Guard was called in to restore order to the increasingly violent disturbances erupting from the ongoing dispute between the steel industry and the unions, the Torso Murderer struck again. Private Edgar M. Steinbrecher strolled out onto the West 3rd Street Bridge, attracted by a tugboat passing beneath, when he noticed a white object on the surface of the water. Upon closer examination, it proved to be the bottom half of a male torso, wrapped in newspaper, bobbing along in the Cuyahoga. Investigators subsequently discovered two forearms and the upper right arm. No one has managed to locate the head.

“According to the coroner’s office, this tenth victim was killed about forty-eight hours before the body was discovered. He was approximately forty years old, five foot nine, and weighed around 150 pounds. The only distinguishing features on the parts recovered were two old scars on the right thumb and a cross-shaped scar on the left leg. Although fingerprints were taken from the right hand, no matches were found. Perhaps the most intriguing detail is that the torso was found with a woman’s silk stocking, upon which forensic scientists discovered blond human hairs.

“The coroner’s office also noticed that the killer’s level of viciousness and savagery has escalated. The killer cut out the lower portion of the torso and removed all organs from the abdominal cavity. The chest was split open and the heart had been severed. There were also lacerations on the hand and diaphragm and more hesitation marks, suggesting either that the killer was becoming less careful or perhaps, that his weapon was growing dull. The coroner noted that this corpse showed evidence of what previously have been considered impossible- increased butchery by this rampaging murderer.

“Despite assurances from the sheriff’s office that the killing spree had come to an end, it seems the Mad Butcher continues his filthy work unabated. Worse, his wanton violence and thirst for blood has increased. Who knows what horrific acts might follow if the police and the safety director do not finally heed the voice of the people and devote their full and unrestrained energies to finding this mass murderer before he has another chance to…”

– -

“David, you’ve got to give me something.”

“I’ve got nothing to give.”

“You got all those men. All that dough.”

“And I’ve been using both to the fullest possible extent. But we still haven’t found anything.”

Ness slammed down the phone receiver. What a disappointment. He thought they had so much promise. But the Unknowns had become the Know-Nothings. Blast!

Chamberlin entered his office. “Any news?”

Ness folded the paper up and laid it neatly on the corner of his desk. “At least this puts the Frank Dolezal business to rest. The Torso Killer is still very much alive.”

“What’s happening with Sheriff O’Donnell?” Chamberlin asked.

“An inquest has been called.”

“Think they’ll nail him?”

“I doubt if they’ll have the courage to bring formal charges against the county sheriff. But they can give him a few days of misery and bad headlines. He won’t get another term of office.”

“I don’t think that’s enough.”

“Agreed. Did you hear about the National Association of Coroners convention?”

“Guess that one escaped my social calendar.”

“Pearce made a big presentation about the torso killings. Hoped someone might think of something he hadn’t, some new angle or something.”

“Did they?”

“No. But the case got even more publicity-nationwide. Have you seen this?” He held up a slick magazine.

Chamberlin shook his head. “I’m more a Hemingway man, myself. Have you read To Have and Have Not?”

“Haven’t had the time. This rag is called Official Detective Stories. And they’re offering a five-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the capture of the Torso Murderer-provided they get the exclusive story.”

Chamberlin whistled. “Five thousand? That’s a lot of cabbage.”

“No kidding. Almost as much as I make in a year.”

“Think it’ll help?”

“We’re already getting fifty tips a day. And we chase down every single one of them, even the stupid ones. We’ve checked out a voodoo cult, numerous wife beaters, any number of doctors and undertakers. But nothing pans out.”

“And your… private investigations?”

“They’re spending plenty of money. But so far-zip.”

“This killer must be the Invisible Man.”

“I don’t think so.” Ness rubbed his jaw. “But I am beginning to think-”

He was interrupted by his office door flinging open without warning. It was Detective Merylo, with Ness ’s secretary hovering anxiously in the background. “Too busy to knock, Detective?”

“I’ve got something for you, Ness. Something big.”

“A lead?”

“Better than that.” Merylo leaned across his desk. “I think I’ve found your killer.”

Merylo spent the next half hour telling Ness and Chamberlin everything he had learned, both undercover in Shantytown and at the Sandusky Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Home. “I tried to figure out where the dog came from. Turns out he’s a stray, but a lot of folks in Shantytown have seen him, particularly around those repair shops.”