Merylo’s eyes darkened. “This conversation is over. I’m leaving. If you have any further questions-”

“Do you think these murders are connected to the Lady in the Lake?”

Merylo stopped in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

“You remember that one, don’t you? The Lady in the Lake?”

“You’re not talking about King Arthur…”

“I’m talking about September of ’35. Guy named LaGassie was walking along the shore of Lake Erie, just east of Bratenahl near Euclid Beach Park. Sees something in the water. Turns out to be the lower half of a woman’s torso, legs cut off at the knees. A couple weeks earlier and about thirty miles east, a handyman found vertebrae and ribs with some rotting flesh attached. People assumed they went together, but I don’t think anyone was ever really sure.”

“When was this?”

O’Rourke checked his notepad. “September 5. Last year.” He beamed. “My paper came up with the name, Lady of the Lake. At the time, people were saying the frail musta gotten caught in a boat propeller, some kinda weird accident. But now…”

Merylo looked at him sternly. “Are you sure about this?”

“Course I’m sure. You don’t believe me, ask your coroner. Pearce was on duty. He must know all about it.”

Merylo felt his chest heaving. That insufferable, uncooperative son-of-

“So what do you think? Did the killer start all this more than a year ago?”

Merylo wrapped his coat tightly around himself. “Of course not. That’s absurd. It’s just a twisted coincidence.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Absolutely. The first victims were the ones we found on Kings-bury Run. Now if you’ll excuse me, man, I’ve got some work to do.”

Merylo strode away before O’Rourke could protest. He didn’t have time to go on jabbering with this flunky. He had too many places to go, people to interview.

Starting with Dr. Arthur Pearce, county coroner.

17

Robert Chamberlin hunched over Ness ’s desk, feeling as tired and frustrated as he ever had in his entire life. He had been an athlete in his younger days, and he still considered himself to be in excellent shape. So he shouldn’t be completely tuckered out by forty-five minutes of talking. But he was.

“Sir, are you sure about this? You’ve got almost three hundred names here. That’s a third of the force.”

“What surprises you? That there aren’t more? We both know the Cleveland police department is rotten to the core.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can start firing everyone.”

“I’m not firing them. Not all of them.” Ness pointed to the explanatory lines on the chart. “Most are just suspended, like before. Some are being transferred.”

“But-so many!”

“Bob, you know as well as I do that I’ll never be able to go after the mob effectively, or the labor racketeers, or anyone else, if there are spies in the department informing them of every move I make.”

“But sir-you must see that cutting so many people will stir up animosity in the police department.”

Ness leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. “Well, Bob, my general impression is that they’re not all that crazy about me over there as it is.”

Chamberlin burst out laughing. “You may be right about that.”

“I know I am. And I don’t blame them. Now, Matowitz is okay- even after that fiasco at The Thomas Club, he’s getting better press than he has in his entire career. But the rest of the men, the rank and file. Working hard, day in, day out, walking the beat, paid too little and appreciated even less. And then some out-of-town hotshot sails in and starts stealing all the headlines. No, they have every right to their resentment.” He paused. “And I have the right to clean out the dirty ones. Fair’s fair.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”

“Well, I am a college man, you know.”

“I believe I’ve heard the police officers mention that once or twice. And the way you dress. And the way you talk.”

“I can’t help it if my voice is somewhat high-pitched.”

“It isn’t that.”

“Then what?”

“You really want to know?”

“If I didn’t, why would I ask?”

Chamberlin pushed his wire-rims up his nose. “It’s the things you say. Gosh. Gee whiz. Holy moley.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Let’s just say that most of the men on the force go in for more colorful expressions.”

“That kind of talk is for people who haven’t had the education to express themselves more intelligently.”

“Be that as it may, it perpetuates your Boy Scout image.”

“And what’s wrong with being a Boy Scout? Anyway, I want this list of suspended officers on Matowitz’s desk before close of business.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Why did you agree to work with me, Bob? You could’ve stayed with Chief Matowitz.”

“They weren’t using me, sir. Not like they should.”

“And how should they use you?”

“I’m smart, sir. Not to toot my own horn-”

“I think you already did.”

“Well-I don’t care. It’s true.”

“And Chief Matowitz didn’t appreciate you?”

“Mostly had me making coffee. Running errands at the five-and-dime.” He lowered his head. “Walking his wife’s dog.”

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?”