Nemesis the final case o.., p.24
Nemesis: The Final Case of Eliot Ness, page 24
“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.”
Ness nodded. “Interesting.”
“It’s more than interesting. It’s perfect. Sweeney lives at the Home, very near where most of the bodies were found. It’s also near the repair shop he could have used as a way station for transporting the corpses. He has medical knowledge. He looks strong. He disappears for long stretches of time.”
“Long enough to capture someone and take them apart?”
“Exactly. He once worked at the same place as Andrassy. He’s a drunk, so it’s likely he goes to that sleazy bar that Flo Polillo and Rose Wallace frequented-also very near the Home. And I hate to admit it but-” He paused. “Do you remember what that alienist told us?”
Ness shrugged. “Sure.”
“Well, Dr. Sweeney fits the description perfectly. He’s smart, educated. Has access to money. Lived near the Run all his life, still does. White male, right age. Alcohol problem. Violent tendencies. Twisted sex preferences.” Merylo leaned in closer. “He even has a physical deformity. A limp. One leg longer than the other.”
“That’s not so much.”
“It’s enough to make his childhood a misery, I’m betting.”
“Lots of kids get teased when they’re young,” Ness said, his eyes wandering. “Doesn’t make them criminals.”
“Then factor in losing both parents at an early age. And three brothers. And then a divorce, and losing his license to practice. Small wonder he’s messed up.”
“Still, this doesn’t prove anything.”
Merylo reached inside his jacket pocket. “I checked him out with the VA. He was a soldier during The Great War and after. Eventually declared, and I quote, ‘twenty-five percent disabled.’ ”
“Because of his leg?”
“No, they knew about that before he enlisted. They had him mostly doing hospital and desk work. Medical Corps. There must’ve been something else.”
“Like what?”
Merylo gripped the edges of the desk. “Like he’s a crazy killer, that’s what!”
Ness leaned back in his chair. “I’ll admit, there’s some good circumstantial evidence in there. But hardly enough for an arrest. I’m not sure you’ve even got enough to bring him in for questioning.”
“Have you been listening to me? The dog dropped a human leg! Practically in the man’s front yard!”
“So what? We know the killer has been depositing bodies in the Run. The dog found a body part there. Doesn’t prove anything.”
Merylo clenched his teeth. “Take a look at this.” He pulled more paper out of his coat pocket. “I got these at the county clerk’s office. Sweeney’s wife filed for divorce in 1934. According to her petition, her life had become a horror picture.”
“Women always say stuff like that. It’s the only way they can get the divorce.”
“She says he started drinking much more heavily. Says he would become, and I quote, ‘erratic and violent.’ I’ll just bet. Abusive to his wife and children. Says he hallucinated. Had weird delusions.”
“Does it say what the delusions were about?”
“No, but I can guess. It’s just like the alienist said. First he fantasizes about killing someone. And then, eventually, he starts doing it!”
“There’s still no proof.”
Merylo continued reading. “Says he showed up for work drunk, sometimes didn’t show up at all. Says he would disappear for days without telling anyone where he was going.”
“Probably on a bender. Sleeping it off in a ditch somewhere.”
“Or trolling through Shantytown, looking for losers and hacking them to bits!”
“Merylo, get a grip…”
He continued reading. “The wife also filed a petition in probate stating that her husband was insane.”
“She wasn’t content with half the money. She wanted it all.”
“As a result, he was committed to City Hospital-at the same time that Andrassy worked there. In the psychiatric ward.”
“Coincidence.”
“He got out a month later. But by that time he’s lost his job and his license. The wife moves in with her sister, takes the kids with her. All in the same month.”
“Tough month for the poor boozehound.”
“Do you remember what the alienist said about how a combination of difficult events could cause the killer to break? To make the jump from fantasizing about murder to doing it? In the same month, this guy loses his wife, his family, and his job. His head was probably messed up from the start and he makes it worse with hooch. And get this-the next month, the very next month, according to the coroner, the Lady in the Lake, the first of the Torso Killer’s victims, was murdered.”
Merylo took a breath and waited patiently for a response. He got nothing. Ness stared straight ahead, apparently lost in thought.
“Do you not see how perfect it is? It all fits!”
From the back of the office, Chamberlin cleared his throat. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t see, Detective.”
“I don’t see what?” He was practically screaming. “I just gave you the killer. What’s your problem?”
Chamberlin kept his voice on a calm, level plane. “Our problem, Detective, is that your suspect’s last name is Sweeney.”
“Who cares?”
“We have to,” Ness said. “We have no choice. Congressman Sweeney has been criticizing me about not catching the killer. What’s he going to do when I bring in his cousin as a suspect? He’ll claim I’m retaliating against him.”
“I don’t care. I’m telling you-Frank Sweeney is the killer.”
“But you can’t prove it. And neither can I.”
“Let me bring him in. Work on him for a few days.”
“He’ll ask for a lawyer.”
“Tell him to take a flying-”
“We’ll have to allow it. He’ll be instructed to say nothing. We won’t get anything. We’ll have to release him. The press will have a field day.”
“Maybe we can keep it quiet. Maybe-”
Ness shook his head. “If Congressman Sweeney weren’t a Democrat, I might take the risk. But he is. Anything I do to his cousin, he’ll say it was political.”
“He’s the one who’s been trying to make it political. I told you, that’s why he sent Lyons to the sheriff-”
“You and I know that. But the press doesn’t and we can’t prove it. If we bring in the cousin of a political opponent, everyone will think we’re trying to get even. To do the same kind of shady political back-stabbing they’ve been doing.”
“The important thing is that we get this monster off the street and let the people of Cleveland stop being terrified.”
“Yes, that was the county sheriff’s argument. And it was good-till the next corpse turned up. Then he looked like a fool.” Ness’s eyes seemed to recede and darken. “I don’t want to look like a fool. Like some kind of… big mess.”
“Just let me bring him in!”
Ness and Chamberlin looked at each other. They were clearly in agreement. “No. Too risky. Burton wouldn’t like it. Could impact his reelection. You can watch the man if you want. Look for more evidence. But you may not make contact. And under no circumstances will you interrogate him or bring him into custody. Do you understand?”
Merylo felt as if his head were smoldering. He leaned across Ness’s desk, close enough to slap him. “You told me I could do whatever it took to catch this killer. You said you would support me. Right down the line.”
“Well, the line stops at political suicide.”
“You don’t care about catching the killer. You’re afraid you’ll lose your job. Your driver. Your invitation to society parties.”
“You’re way out of line, Detective.”
“I don’t care. You’re putting yourself before the people.”
“Am I?” Ness’s neck stiffened. He spoke in short, clipped words, increasing in volume with each sentence. “Where will the people be if I’m not in this office? What will happen to the traffic situation, huh? The Boys Clubs. Mobsters and labor racketeers. I’ve done a lot of good for this town and I’m not going to see it undone because I make a stupid mistake on this stupid case!”
Merylo grabbed his rumpled hat and headed toward the door. “I’m going over your head.”
“There is no one over my head.”
“Then I’m going to the press.”
“And tip off Sweeney? You do that and you’ll never catch him.” Ness looked at him levelly. “Don’t make me take you off this case, Detective.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. The press might see it as a positive development.”
“Matowitz knows I’m the best detective he’s got.”
“Matowitz will go along with anything I want.”
Merylo could feel the bile rising in his throat. Ness’s words wouldn’t sting so much-if he didn’t know they were true.
“Look, Detective, you’ve been under a lot of stress. Go home. Spend some time with your wife. Have a drink or two. You’ll see things differently in the morning.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And then, if you want to continue tailing your suspect, you do that. From a discreet distance. Maybe eventually you’ll get some real evidence, something that might justify the gigantic risk of bringing in the congressman’s cousin. Something so telling that the press couldn’t possibly criticize us for bringing him in.” He paused. “But you don’t have it yet. And we’re not touching this man until you do.”
Merylo opened the office door. “I will be back.”
Ness nodded. “I’m counting on it.”
48
Ness tiptoed quietly into the house. Once again, he was late. Probably he should’ve gone to the apartment. But he had told Edna he was coming home tonight. He felt as if they were making a little progress-had been ever since that party for the mayor. If only he didn’t have to spend so much time on this torso case. And then there was a flare-up on the labor front. Then Burton summoned him in for an emergency strategy meeting. And…
And the next thing he knew, he was late. Exactly what Edna had been complaining about for so long. He’d done it again.
He poked his head through the bedroom door. She was asleep. Wearing her best, silken nightgown, too, he noticed.
Maybe he should give her a gentle nudge, see if she woke up. Or maybe that would lead to more embarrassment…
She was a lovely woman, Edna was. Tender. Sweet. She looked beautiful lying there, her head on the pillow, her brown curls poking out from under the covers. Absolutely lovely…
But when he was on the job… on the chase… bursting through doors and catching thugs with their pants down… well, there was nothing like that. Nothing at all.
He gently closed the bedroom door. He’d see her in the morning. If she got up before he went to work. They’d have a chance to talk then, with any luck.
He returned to the living room and started to sit down on the sofa, but Edna’s enormous purse was lying in the center, tipped over on one side. He picked it up…
Something fell out.
He started to reach for it-then realized it was a postcard.
His heart began to race. His legs felt wobbly. He sat down, breathed deeply, then took the card into his hands.
On the outside, it was just like all the others. A city view of beautiful Cleveland, taken before congestion and smog made it dark and sooty. It was addressed to Eliot “Weak,” Ness. The message contained but a single word.
TOUCHABLE.
It bore no stamp or postmark.
It had been in Edna’s purse.
Without even thinking about it, Ness picked up the phone and dialed.
“Merylo? Yes, I know what time it is. Listen to me. I’ve had a change of heart. I want you to bring in the doctor.”
He waited while a groggy voice on the other end of the line tried to assimilate what it was hearing.
“Yes, I know what I’m saying. No, I haven’t been drinking. Yes, I’ve had some thoughts about that, too. We’ll rent a hotel room. Do the whole thing in secret. No one at the station needs to know about it. Just you and me and a couple of handpicked men I can trust to keep their yaps shut.”
There was more rattling on the other end of the line, as Merylo ran through every objection Ness had made earlier in the day.
“Yes, well, I’ve had some thoughts about that, too. Didn’t your lady at the Sailors’ Home say he’s been sober for a long time now? He’s about due for a bender. Keep an eye on him. As soon as he’s good and sloshed, grab him. Anyone questions us, we’ll say he was drunk and disorderly. And once we have him in custody, we can ask him about anything we want.”
49
Merylo had been told to wait until Dr. Sweeney was seriously intoxicated, but it was possible he had waited too long. He arrested the man for public drunkenness and, as directed, brought him through the back door and up the rear stairs to a private room in the Cleveland Hotel. But Sweeney was so far gone that they spent the first three days just waiting for him to dry out.
When he was finally sober-and desperate for a drink-the questioning began. Merylo wanted to do it, but the safety director had insisted on handling it himself. Merylo wasn’t surprised. Even though he was the one who found the man, if there was going to be a confession, or even a slip leading to an arrest, Ness would want to be able to take credit for it.
Ness closed the drapes across the windows and made the room totally dark, all but for one light dangling low in the center of the room between the questioner and the questioned. Merylo and Zalewski and Chamberlin were allowed to watch, but they remained in the darkness.
Sweeney was handcuffed to his chair, but it was hard to imagine that he could be any threat. He wore several days’ stubble and stinking wrinkled clothes. His mustache was in bad need of a trim. His glasses were bent and they rested crookedly on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked tired. It took a lot of imagination to envision this dissipated drunk as the sadistic murderer of ten people.
Ness stared across the room at Sweeney, his voice level, his expression even.
“Hello. My name is Eliot Ness.”
“I’m all atwitter.”
“You know who I am?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Do you understand why you’re here?”
“I assume you must think I’m running hooch.”
“No.”
“Or you think I’m running the mob. Do you think I’m running the mob?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that what you do? Track down mobsters and make them pay their taxes?”
“Not this time.”
“Then can I go home?”
Ness took a long deep breath. “Please state your name.”
“Gaylord Sundheim.”
“We know perfectly well that is not your name.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Is your name Francis Edward Sweeney?”
“I think you’re better off with Gaylord Sundheim. Because if word gets out who I really am, you’re going to be in serious trouble.”
