“Yeah. That’s some kinda doctor that reads minds or-”

“I know what an alienist is. I studied psychoanalysis in college. How long ago did he make this recommendation?”

Merylo and Zalewski exchanged a glance. “Several murders back,” Zalewski answered.

Ness pursed his lips. “Tell the doctor we want to talk to his alienist. As soon as possible. Did you know Pearce is planning a seminar?”

“About what?”

“About the murders. He’s bringing some of the best forensic scientists in the country in to examine the evidence and see if they can tell us anything we don’t already know. I plan to attend.” He paused. “I think it might be a good idea if you boys did, too.”

“Does that mean we’re still on the case?”

Ness ignored the question. “You mentioned Andrassy and Polillo. What about the other victims? Have you ID’d them yet?”

“No.”

“Do you think you can?”

“Probably not. But I haven’t stopped trying. And I never will.”

Ness laid a hand on each of the men’s shoulders. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now listen to me, boys. I’m not an easy man to work for. I know that. I demand long hours. Hard work. I demand that you keep your nose clean.”

“We’re clean,” Merylo grunted.

“I know that,” Ness interrupted. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be on the force. But things change sometimes, when the going gets tough. I need your word that you won’t bring disrespect to my office.”

Ness turned his eyes upon both men. They looked back at him.

“You have our word,” Merylo said quietly.

“Good. There’s just one other thing I demand from my people. Results.”

Merylo held up his hands. “Look, we’ve been killing ourselves on this case, chasing our tails, doing everything possible. But I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I heard the same thing about Capone, back in Chicago. He’s too big. You can’t bring him down. But we did. And we’ll get this monster too, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Zalewski said enthusiastically. Merylo said nothing.

“Good. Then I would be very much honored if you two gentlemen would become my primary field lieutenants on this case. You will work directly for me. I’ll arrange everything with Chief Matowitz. You report to me, or if I’m unavailable, to my assistant. And no one else. Not even your buddies on the force. Not even the press.”

“I thought you liked the press,” Merylo said.

“No, my friend, I use the press. Those are two totally different things. At any rate, that’s my job, not yours. I want no leaks.”

Zalewski appeared flush with excitement. “Does this mean we’re going to be Untouchables?”

Ness thought for a moment. That was almost a good idea. But Merylo was too well-known, too high-profile. All he could perform were official duties. What if he had a group of people out of the spotlight? People who could go beyond official duties…

Ness smiled. “You’re already untouchable, officers, as far as I’m concerned. Now we’ve got to be unbeatable.”

“Yes, sir!” Zalewski actually saluted.

“All right then. Get to work. I’ll expect a report at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. And every morning thereafter until this murderer is caught. I’ll be formulating a plan, and as soon as I complete it, I’ll give you specific instructions. I will expect to see them implemented expediently and effectively. So you’d best get started.”

He watched as the two men left the office. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. In the past, he’d always obtained the best results by creating his own team, rather than adopting the men already in place. But he needed men with police experience, real crime-solving skills. With Capone, they already knew who was behind the crimes; they just needed the evidence to bring him down. In this case, they had no idea who-or what-they were fighting.

He had spoken rashly to the press. If he didn’t deliver, they would eat him alive like the piranhas they were. And there were other considerations…

Involuntarily, his mind returned to the postcard he had received. He had not turned it in to the police, nor had he given it to the Bertillon department for analysis.

It was possible it was a fake. One of the nuts all this press coverage was sure to shake off the tree.

But what if it wasn’t? What if the killer saw this as a personal grudge match? A battle between him and the Fed who supposedly brought down Capone?

The man who wrote that postcard knew where he lived. And Edna.

He returned to his desk. He had implemented the first part of his assault on the so-called Torso Murderer. Now it was time to implement Phase Two.

33

It occurred to Merylo, once again, that he should have requested that this meeting take place somewhere other than the coroner’s office. The front lobby was too busy and Dr. Pearce’s office was too small, so the only logical place to have the meeting was in the autopsy room. And the fact that Merylo had been here more than a dozen times on various cases had not in the slightest altered the fact that the place gave him the heebie-jeebies. Happily, there were no corpses currently on display, but there had been before, and there would be again. He couldn’t help but look at each of the compartment doors that lined the south wall and wonder whether there was a headless body hidden behind it.

Merylo had pushed the operating table to one side and arranged some folding chairs in the center of the room. Zalewski was seated beside him. “Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they’re coming?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re late.”

“Well, they’re important people.”

“Which ones? The doctors, or the safety director?”

“All of them.”

“In that order?”

Merylo allowed himself a thin smile. “No comment.”

Through the glass-windowed door Merylo saw the good doctor Arthur Pearce enter the room with another man of the same height but considerably slimmer build. He wore glasses, thick ones, and he was clutching a black leather bag. He was wearing a checked suit, too big for him, and even more notably, no hat.

“Kraut,” Zalewski whispered under his breath. “Probably a hebe, too.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I’m just sayin’-”

“I haven’t heard any characters named ‘Zalewski’ on Jack, Armstrong lately.”

“I’m just sayin’. I never cared much for Krauts.”

The two men entered the room. Eliot Ness was just a few steps behind them.

“Detectives,” Dr. Pearce began, “let me introduce you to my colleague, Dr. Ernst Hunstein.”

The two detectives rose, but the new doctor did not extend a hand.

“I believe you’ve already met the safety director.”

Merylo tipped his hat slightly. “We’ve had the pleasure, yes.”

“We are most fortunate to have the opportunity to consult with Dr. Hunstein. He has only in the past year emigrated from Germany.”

Zalewski gave Merylo a decided “told-you-so” look.

“I’m surprised you could leave the Fatherland,” Zalewski said. “I hear most of you people like to stay home.”

“I love my home,” Hunstein said. His voice was quiet, and between that and the thick accent, he was difficult to understand. “But I now reside in New York. Given the changes of late, the Nuremberg Laws against my people, I thought it best to leave as have so many others.”

“You talking about Happy Hitler?”

Hunstein’s eyes narrowed. “That is not how we refer to him in Germany. Are you familiar with the actions of the Führer?”

Zalewski hedged. “I saw him in a newsreel once. This summer, at the Berlin Olympics.”

“Ah. Of course. Your Jesse Owens performed very well. He won four gold medals, I believe. Hitler was not happy about that.”

“He probably didn’t like seein’ his medals leave Germany.”

Hunstein fingered his glasses. “I do not believe that was the problem.”

“Didn’t Hitler get ninety-nine percent of the vote in the elections?”