“He says, ‘Surely the man who caught Capone will have no trouble catching one sadistic killer.’ ”

“But-that’s not my job. It’s not what I was hired to do.”

“I don’t think he cares, sir. And if I may say so-I don’t think anyone else does, either. The whole town’s in a panic. Scared to death. They won’t feel safe until this man is caught.”

“Swell.” Ness wadded up the paper and threw it into the trash. “Are the reporters here yet?”

“Sir…” Ness could tell Chamberlin didn’t want to say whatever was coming next. “Do you really think that’s wise? Given what’s in the paper?”

“I’ve got no choice. I can’t start my Boys Clubs without funding from the city council. And I won’t get that without public support.”

“I’m just thinking maybe the time isn’t right…”

“You must be kidding. Juvenile crime is out of control in this town.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“These reporters aren’t idiots. At least not all of them. They’ll come around. Once I explain how important this is. And they’ll take the message to the people.”

“I don’t know…”

“I have a good track record, don’t I?”

“Of course you do. But this-this is something totally different. You’ve never been up against anything like this before.”

Ness rose from his desk and grabbed his suit jacket. “Surely I’ve earned a vote of confidence on my plan to combat juvenile crime.”

“I’m just concerned that-”

“They’ll come around, Bob. You’ll see. I’ve handled the press before and I’ll handle them again.” He grabbed his hat and headed out the door. “I know people are upset about the murders. But that doesn’t mean they can’t see sense.”

Ness hated flashbulbs. Those reporters didn’t mind getting right up in your face with them. They flashed at the least opportune, least flattering moments, and left him literally blinded for a good ten or fifteen seconds. He understood they were just doing their job, and he sometimes liked the result. A flattering photo on the front page of tomorrow’s papers might guarantee the funding he needed. But it was still annoying. Broke his concentration. Made him squint. His eyes were already a little smaller than he might like, a little too beady. He didn’t want to look untrustworthy.

“Thank you for coming out today,” Ness said to the throng of reporters and photographers gathered on the steps of Cleveland City Hall. He tried to amplify his usual soft voice; he needed to sound firm and confident. In control. Funny how he always felt insecure when he gave a speech, but felt entirely comfortable giving a press conference. “I’m here to formally present my plan to deal with the juvenile crime problem that has plagued this city for many years. My problem has been that I couldn’t figure out why Cleveland should have so much more juvenile crime than other cities of similar size. So I did what I always do when I’m trying to tackle a big problem. I investigated.”

Ness saw a hand shoot up from one of the reporters in the rear, but he ignored it and proceeded with his prepared remarks. “I walked the streets at night and talked to many of the young men who have formed gangs, who are committing the petty and increasingly serious crimes that put a dent in this city’s economy. And having talked to them, all I can say is-I’m surprised it isn’t worse. You would be astonished to learn how many young men are out there with no place to live, no regular source of support, poor, poorly educated, one parent or no parent or no employed parent, ravaged by this Depression, no healthy environment. No role model. It’s truly shocking. Many are living in cardboard boxes, under bridges, in Shantytown, where they’re exposed to the worst possible element. The fact is, my friends, we have a juvenile crime problem because we have not been taking care of our children. We have not protected and nourished the next generation.”

Two more hands shot up. For the most part, however, the assembled reporters remained stoic. Their pencils were moving, but he sensed it was more a matter of politeness and patience than any genuine interest. Was he losing his knack for this sort of thing? He was tempted to take a question, but his better judgment told him to go on saying what he had to say.

“To that end, ladies and gentlemen, I am presenting to the city council this day a plan to institute a series of Boys Clubs throughout the city. To reduce costs, I have scouted out buildings still in good condition but abandoned due to our current economic crisis. The city can acquire them at a reasonable price and adapt them to our needs. The youth of this city will have a safe, wholesome place to play and to learn. These Boys Clubs will keep them off the streets, teach them useful skills, and instill values that in some cases are sadly lacking.”

This was not like the other press conferences Ness had conducted. He was giving them good ideas-grand ideas. And for the most part they were sitting like statues, phlegmatic, increasingly impatient. Chamberlin had warned him that this might not be the best time for the conference. But surely, when they heard about everything he had been doing, working days and nights for weeks on end…

“In addition, I have been in contact with the leaders of the Cleveland chapter of the Boy Scouts of America. They too are concerned about the rise in juvenile crime, but have been hampered by a lack of volunteers. They’d like to start many more scout troops but can’t find men to act as troop leaders.” Ness paused dramatically. “Well, in that respect, I can help.” He reached into his pocket. “I have here a list of fifty police officers who have volunteered to give up ten hours a week to help set our youth on the right path.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m going to lead one of the scout troops myself.”

He paused, and it seemed as if a thousand hands shot into the air. The short hairs on the back of Ness ’s neck bristled. He had the distinct impression that none of these questions were going to be about Boys Clubs or Boy Scouts.

“One more thing I’d like to add,” Ness said. His voice squeaked; the pitch rose ever so slightly. “And, uh, I-then-I can entertain questions. I have just received word of an amazing event that should make all the citizens of this city proud. You may recall that before I got here, a national survey determined that Cleveland was the most dangerous city in America. I have just received word from the National Safety Council that Cleveland will soon receive a safety award. Due to the dramatic decrease in organized crime and traffic fatalities, our mayor will soon travel to Washington to receive a national commendation honoring Cleveland for its dramatic transformation from one of America ’s most dangerous cities to one of the safest-”

“For God’s sake,” one of the reporters in the back said, throwing down his hat. “When are you going to talk about the Torso Killer?”

Ness took a deep breath. “I know many people in this city are concerned about these murders. Understandably so. The loss of life is always deplorable. But these other gains-”

“What have you got to say about this latest murder? The body that poor girl found? On the west side.”

“The west side?”

“Right. Where respectable people live, not just bums. That makes five-possibly six-victims,” said a female reporter with bobbed black hair, the one the mayor always called His Girl Friday. Ness couldn’t even remember her real name. “Only two of them have even been identified.”

“Yes, but we’ve decreased traffic fatalities from over four hundred to less than forty so far this year. That’s more than three hundred lives saved and-”

“By all that’s holy, man, will you stop?”

The portly man in the three-piece suit was unmistakable. Congressman Sweeney.

“I’m-sorry, I don’t quite follow-”

“Do you not understand? We have a butcher loose in this city. A cold-blooded killer. Hacking up people like so much meat. And you stand there babbling about traffic lights and… Boy Scouts!”