William Bernhardt - Nemesis - The Final Case of Eliot Ness

Apparently he was going to be the next. If he just tipped forward a little, tilted at a ninety-degree angle, he would be spread across that table, unable to move or run or resist, just like all the other victims before him. The killer could lop at his head at his leisure. At his pleasure.

Ness pulled at the ropes that held his hands, burning his wrists. It gave, just a little. That was something. Maybe if he kept working. Maybe if he ignored the pain and kept pulling at it…

“Hello again, Mr. Safety Director.”

Frank Sweeney emerged from the darkness, still smiling, limping a little, carrying a chair in one hand and an enormous butcher knife in the other.

He placed the chair at the opposite end of the table and sat facing Ness, the knife spread across his lap. “Now this is an interesting role reversal, isn’t it? I hope you slept well.”

Ness found it hard to speak. His head was still cloudy, muddled. But one thought emerged clearly. “Where’s Edna?”

“The tramp left you.”

“I want to know what you’ve done with my wife.”

“Do you really care? About the woman who betrayed you? Or are you just reciting the lines you think you’re expected to say?”

“Tell me what you’ve done with my wife!”

“She’s safe.”

“Is she alive?”

“Does it matter? She’s out of your life.”

“I want to know what you’ve done with my wife!” Ness shouted, rattling his brain. “Answer me, Sweeney. Now!”

He smiled. “Call me Gaylord Sundheim.”

Ness closed his eyes. The man was mad, that much was clear. He was everything the alienist had said he would be and then some. He was nothing like the criminals Ness had spent his adult life chasing. He was something different, something utterly unfathomable.

He was playing with Ness, like a cat might toy with a crippled mouse.

“All right then, Gaylord. What are you doing with my wife?”

“Helping you.”

“How is kidnapping my wife helping me?”

“Well, you must admit, you weren’t having much luck finding me. I thought perhaps we should up the ante. Give you some added incentive. I gather you were able to solve the code on the postcard?”

Ness looked at him blankly.

“No? You found this place some other way? What a clever man you are. Well, the important thing is that you got here.”

“You wanted me to catch you?”

“I wanted you to come here.”

“Why?”

“Well, you took away my usual source of material, didn’t you? That was a naughty thing you did, Eliot. Burning Shantytown. Why did you have to do that? Was I really hurting anyone? Paring down the numbers of the bums and vagrants and crooks and whores? The dead and the dying.” He laughed a little. “The most dangerous game. I’ve hunted rabbits that gave me more trouble.”

“Perhaps it’s time to go back to the rabbits.”

“Perish the thought.” He playfully flipped the knife back and forth. “Do you remember what I told you? Back when I was the one tied to the chair and you were the one playing all high-and-mighty?”

“As I recall, you said you thought killing people would make you a god. Doesn’t look to me like it worked out for you.”

“No, it didn’t. And I was forced to ask myself-why? What was I doing wrong? And then it came to me. I’d been taking the easy way out. Selecting people of no importance, offering little resistance. Easy marks. I needed a challenge.”

“And that would be?”

“Killing my greatest enemy. You.”

Ness made no reply.

“I was getting a bit bored with the chase, to tell the truth. You were never going to catch me.”

“I did catch you. Your lawyer took you away.”

“Because you were being naughty. You broke the rules.”

“I was doing what I had to do to put away an insane murderer.” He paused. “And as it turned out, Merylo and I were right. You’re the Mad Butcher.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the Sailors’ Home? It’s after curfew.”

“Funny thing about that. Mrs. McGovern is no stricter about attendance now than she was before. Even after my cousin gave her a stern lecture.”

He glanced down at the knife in his lap. “This is my favorite. I have many. I keep all my knives and axes and things under the floorboards. You missed that, too.”

“It was dark.”

“You always have an excuse, don’t you? Did you find the bodies?”

Ness felt his skin crawling.

“I guess that means no. There are many, you know. I haven’t begun to share all the work I’ve done. I’ve just let a little bit of it trickle out at a time, just enough to keep you interested.”

“I guess you like being in the papers, too.”

He thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I do. It makes me feel… alive. Noticed. Like I really exist. I get quite a charge out of it. Is that what it does for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I thought it was. You’re not so much with the wife, so you look for your thrills elsewhere. You and Edna may not have had much, but you and the papers, now there was a love match. While it lasted. Did it hurt very much?”

“What?”

“When your lover broke up with you. When they turned on you.”

“That was your fault.”

“No. Yours. You just can’t see it. It was inevitable. Fame is a harsh mistress, and Americans love to see their heroes fail. It’s a national obsession.”

“You’re sick and twisted.”

He sighed. “That’s what my cousin keeps saying.”

“Does your cousin know you’re using his brewery as a slaughterhouse?”

“Well, we’ve never discussed it. But I have to wonder if he doesn’t know, or at least suspect. When I look into his eyes, I see a bit of myself reflected in them. I wonder how he keeps it all inside. I can’t. You know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I see the same thing when I look into your eyes, Eliot. I see myself in you.”

“You’re insane.”

“And your point is?”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“You’re wrong.” All at once, Sweeney lurched forward, still holding the knife. He pushed the table out from between them and leaned in close to Ness. He began sniffing him.

“Yes, we’re very alike, aren’t we? We share the same infirmity.”

“You’re babbling.”

“Horrible stuff, isn’t it? Liquor. We were better off when you were keeping it off the streets. Too bad they repealed that law.”

“I may take a drink now and then, but I’m nothing like you.”

“Are you sure? You’re still a young man, Mr. Ness. Best not to speak imprudently.”

“We are nothing alike. Nothing!”

“Oh, you’re wrong.”

“Stop sniffing me!”

“But I like your smell. Very much. You smell like me!”

“I’m nothing like you! I’m not insane!”

“Yet.”

“You’re a madman rhapsodizing about the joy of killing people. I’m a college graduate. A man of science. Rationality.”

“And I’m a doctor.”

“Were.”

“But science can only take you so far. And as for rationality…”

“I am nothing like you!” Ness bellowed.

“Temper, temper.”

“You disgust me!”

“Now you’re hurting my feelings.”

“I’ll hurt more than that!”

Pushing off from his bound feet, Ness sprang forward and sank his teeth deep into Sweeney’s neck. Sweeney tried to pull away, but Ness dug in hard, clenching tightly. Blood seeped out, trickling through his lips. Sweeney screamed in pain; his cry reverberated through the large empty room.

Sweeney tried to raise his knife. Ness dug in even tighter, gnashing back and forth, swinging the man’s neck, tearing the skin at each end.