“He’s not one of us. He just cuts through here on his way home. Not afraid to give a little help when he can, though, and that’s more than I can say for most of the people in this city.”

“You’re tellin’ me that fancy Dan has a joint of his own around here?”

“Not exactly a joint of his own. He’s stayin’ at the Sailors’ Home.”

Sailor? Merylo’s skin began to tingle. “But ain’t that a place for-”

“Yup. People with problems.”

“And the doc-?”

The man pantomimed taking a drink.

“He looked pretty sober to me.”

“Guess he can go a long time. Then he flies off on a binge. We don’t see him for days.”

Merylo’s eyes narrowed. Indeed.

“And then he shows up again, fit as a fiddle. Shame, really. Ought to be some way to help a person like that.”

“Isn’t that what the Home is supposed to do?”

“I suppose. Say-why you so interested in the doc?”

“No reason. Just passin’ the time. Not like I got anything else to do.”

“I hear that.”

“You got any idea what the doc’s name is? I might ask him to take a look at my bum shoulder, next time he comes through.”

“I’ve heard folks call him Frank. Frank Sweeney.”

44

Ness didn’t wait to be announced. He marched into the office and laid his hat on the edge of the desk.

Sheriff O’Donnell had his feet propped up, reading the newspaper. He glanced over the top. “Did we have an appointment?”

“We do now.”

“Well now, I have a very busy schedule and-”

“You can make time for me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I want to talk about your suspect.”

“Now wait just one minute,” O’Donnell said, his face still obscured by the newspaper. “Maybe you’re used to telling those boys down at the city police which way to jump, but this is my office, I don’t have to take orders from-”

Ness grabbed the paper and ripped it out of his hands. “Here are your choices, Sheriff. You can talk to me now, or I can call the newspapers and tell them what I know about your suspect. You choose.”

The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“Have it your way.” Ness made an about-face and headed toward the door.

“Hold on,” O’Donnell said, rising to his feet.

Ness stopped.

“Don’t get so uppity and impatient. You want to talk, fine. Let’s sit down and shoot the breeze.”

Ness turned to face him. “I prefer to stand.”

“What is it that’s so all-fired important?”

“I think you know.”

O’Donnell chuckled. “I know you’re royally raked off because I caught that Torso Killer and you didn’t.”

“Yeah. Except you didn’t actually catch the killer, did you? You just pummeled some poor loser till he gave you a confession.”

O’Donnell leaned forward, pressing his fists against his desk. “That’s a serious accusation, Mr. Ness.”

“Murder is a serious charge. It shouldn’t be leveled against someone unless there’s evidence to support it.”

“The man confessed!”

“Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I couldn’t see the bruises on his arms, his face? Do you think I didn’t notice the way he was clutching his side? I sent a medic in yesterday to observe your prisoner, Sheriff. He thinks the man has a broken rib-maybe several.”

“You had one of your men in my cell block? When was that?”

“I also understand he didn’t get food, water, or rest for more than two days while you interrogated him.”

“Who told you that?”

“Don’t change the subject. How did your prisoner get so beat up?”

The sheriff made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Self-inflicted.”

“Oh, please.”

“It’s true. The man’s violent and self-destructive. Has tried to kill himself several times. I’ve got him on suicide watch. Two guards on him at all times.”

“I’ve read the transcript of the confession,” Ness said, ignoring him. “It won’t wash. He’s got the time of the Polillo murder wrong.”

“He’s a drunk. He forgets things.”

“His description of the execution is wrong, too. And his knives aren’t strong enough to bring off a decapitation. And if he left her clothes on Orange Avenue, why didn’t the police find them?”

“Maybe they didn’t look.”

“I can assure you they did.”

“There may be some minor inconsistencies, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Even if I believed his confession wasn’t coerced-and I don’t-the only thing he confessed to is Flo Polillo’s murder. Not the other eight.”

“One is all we need to put him down.”

“But the coroner says that the man who killed Flo Polillo also killed the others.”

“All the more reason to put him down.”

“But he couldn’t have committed the other murders!”

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“Look at him, man. He’s short, weak, emaciated. You think he could take Andrassy-a man a head taller than him who carried an ice pick?”

“You never know. Might’ve caught him by surprise.”

“You think he could carry Andrassy’s corpse to the bottom of Jackass Hill? That’s a sixty-degree slope, if you didn’t know. I doubt your man could walk it carrying nothing, much less carrying a corpse.”

“This is all just sour grapes. You can’t stand the fact that I beat you to the punch. You and all your high-powered men came up with nothing, while my investigators caught the killer.”

“Except it wasn’t actually your investigator, was it?”

That slowed him down a bit. “What are you babbling about now?”

“I’m talking about Lawrence J. Lyons, the private investigator. Who is most definitely not a member of your staff.”

O’Donnell’s forehead knitted. “How do you know Mr. Lyons?”

“I’ve known about him for months, ever since he started mucking about in this case. Merylo caught on to him right away. Told me all about it.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Your Detective Merylo didn’t bring in the murderer.”

“Detective Merylo didn’t bring in Frank Dolezal because he isn’t the murderer and couldn’t possibly be the murderer. Merylo interviewed him twice and eliminated him as a suspect. I have the reports. The man might be a little loony, but he’s no Torso Killer.”

“Says you.”

“Merylo talked to Lyons just last week and told him he was chasing the wrong man. That’s why you went ahead and arrested him, isn’t it? You figured we knew about your secret investigator and his work. So you grabbed Dolezal before we beat you to the punch. Except of course we would never have arrested him. Because he didn’t do it.”

“My man says otherwise.”

“What interests me is the fact that when Lyons thought he had a lead, he didn’t bring it to the police department. He came to you.”

O’Donnell hooked a thumb under his belt. “Could be he just had more faith that we’d be able to get the job done.”

“Or it could have something to do with Ray Miller, the former mayor and Democratic crony.”

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“I know Lyons went to Miller and told him what he knew. And Miller sent him to you-a Democrat. Because he didn’t want the case cracked by the mayor or anyone associated with him.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Ness.”

“Tell me, Sheriff-you’re a close friend of Congressman Sweeney, right? In fact, you’re related by marriage.”

“Is that a crime?”

“And Sweeney has been doing everything in his power to politicize these murders. To gain political capital by criticizing the Republican administration for not catching the killer. It would really spoil his plans if we did. So he sent Lyons to the only available Democrat in local law enforcement-the county sheriff.”

“Balderdash.”

“And you arrested the man and held a big press conference announcing that you’d caught the murderer, even though you had nothing on him other than a forced confession.”

O’Donnell pounded his fist on his desk. “He knew Flo Polillo!”

“So what?”