55

Ness slammed shut his bottom desk drawer the instant Chamberlin entered his office.

“Sir, have you seen the article in the Press?”

“Is it any different from the others?”

“Much the same. Except perhaps… stronger.”

“We did the right thing, Bob. I don’t care what the newshounds think.”

Chamberlin gave him a long look.

“All right, maybe I care. But I won’t be second-guessed. I’m the safety director. I have to do what’s right for the people.”

Chamberlin threw the paper onto Ness ’s desk. “I think perhaps you’d better read the editorial. Sir.”

Ness grabbed the paper and sought out the article in question.

“… dwellers are not thanking Mr. Ness for his concern about their remaining unidentified if their heads should be chopped off. Nor do they thank him for burning down the village. The net result of the director’s raid seems to have been the wrecking of a few miserable huts and the confinement of the occupants. We can see no justification for the jailing of the jobless and penniless men and the wrecking of their miserable hovels without permitting them to collect their personal belongings and…”

Ness slapped the paper down on his desk. “Are these people blind? Do they not understand that we might have found evidence identifying the killer?”

“I wish we had,” Chamberlin said. “We’d look a lot better.”

“If we let people take anything, the killer would’ve taken everything.”

“Some people think he did.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Ness pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing. “If he’d been there, we’d have caught him. He just wasn’t there.”

“Which unfortunately makes some feel like we burned Shanty-town for no good reason. Like we were being cruel to people in need.”

“Cruel? Those folks can relocate to the Wayfarer’s Lodge. That’s where they should have been in the first place. We can’t have people camping out at Kingsbury Run. It’s unsafe and unhealthy and perpetuates these murders.”

“It still seems cruel to some-taking away from those who have little at all. Like instead of helping them, you’re hurting them.”

“Why would I do that?” Ness leaned against the windowsill and stared out at the city. “Have there been any more murders since we took away Shantytown?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“The answer is, no. No more murders.”

“That we know of.”

“No more murders because we took away the killer’s hunting ground. Those vagrants the Press is so concerned about were easy pickings for the killer. Now he doesn’t know what to do.”

“For how long?”

Ness whirled on his assistant. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

Chamberlin thought a moment before answering. “Does it matter?”

Ness’s eyes burned into Chamberlin’s. “How long have you been against me?”

“I’m not against you.”

“But you’re attacking me over this Shantytown thing.”

“I thought it was a bad idea at the time. I would’ve told you so. If you’d asked.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t. I did the right thing.” He paused. “I just didn’t go far enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I took away the killer’s victims. But that’s not good enough for these people. They want more. They want the killer’s blood.”

“Are you feeling all right? You’re talking a little-”

“Fine. I’ll give it to them.”

Chamberlin’s eyes widened. “You know who the killer is?”

“I know how to find him. Flush him out. Should have done it a long time ago.”

“Sir… I think maybe you need some rest.”

“There’s no time to rest, Bob. Not with this killer on the loose. All those people, telling me I hadn’t done enough. They were right. I said I’d done everything I could, but the truth is, I’d done everything that was safe. Well, it’s time to stop being safe.”

“I don’t like the sound of that much.”

“How long have we been chasing this lunatic, Bob? How long? Too long. Round up some men.”

“Sir, after this Shantytown fiasco, I don’t think anyone will be too eager…”

“I don’t need your excuses, Bob. Just find me some men. I’ll call Merylo and his assistant. They’ll come.”

“I’m not so sure. Merylo wasn’t happy about-”

“He’ll come. He works for me. He understands that it takes extraordinary measures to catch an extraordinary man. Then I’ll round up some fire wardens.”

“Fire wardens!” Chamberlin’s eyes ballooned. “What are you planning now?”

“Don’t go into a panic, Bob. I’m not going to burn anything.”

“Then why?”

“Just get them, Bob. I’ll meet you on East Fifty-fifth, by the Cuyahoga. We’re going to find the Torso Murderer. I guarantee it.”

The wind was cold coming off the river, but the officers assembled did not notice. They were much too engrossed in the words of the famous man delivering their detailed instructions. He had obviously given this plan much thought, worked out every detail. He split the twelve men into two groups and assigned each their territory. Together they would cover the entire area from East 55th to Prospect Avenue, one of the poorest districts in town, and most of the neighborhoods closest to Kingsbury Run. The two teams would saturate over ten square miles of territory.

“I want every house searched,” Ness said, as he handed the leader of each group its map. “Every one. No exceptions.”

“What if no one comes to the door?” Merylo asked.

Ness looked at him pointedly. “If you were the Torso Murderer, would you come to the door?”

“Point taken. But don’t we need a warrant?”

“You do,” Ness said succinctly. “But a fire warden does not.”

Merylo’s eyebrows rose.

“Pursuant to the Cleveland city charter, a fire warden is authorized to enter any home and conduct a routine fire inspection.”

“But-you said we were going into every house.”

“Have you looked at these shabby joints? Each of them is a potential fire trap.”

Merylo smiled a little. “Understood.”

“We know the killer must have some kind of… laboratory somewhere in this area. Someplace where he kills his victims without being detected. Someplace he can store body parts until he’s ready to distribute them. No matter how good he is, after so many murders, there must be discernable traces. Blood. Bone. Preservative chemicals.”

“Collier’s magazine,” Merylo added.

“Whatever. There must be traces. I want you to find them.”

“If he’s here,” Merylo said, “we’ll find him.”

“One last word,” Ness said. “You’re probably wondering why I’m only using twelve men. This will probably take you a week, at least. More men could get it done faster. But I don’t want to attract attention. I don’t want to tip off the killer before we get to his place. I don’t want to read about this in the papers. I don’t care whether the editorial writers think it’s a good idea. It is a good idea.” He paused. “So go find me that killer.”

Merylo pounded on the door. “Police.”

He waited. He knew that might conceivably give the occupant a chance to escape, maybe even to destroy evidence. But he also knew breaking down a door could potentially attract attention. So he waited. At least thirty seconds. Unless he heard sounds of rapid movement. After posting someone to cover the rear exit.

No one answered. He asked Zalewski to take charge. Using only his shoulder, Zalewski had the warped and rickety front door open in fewer than ten seconds.

Slowly, cautiously, they entered, Merylo leading the way. Little light crept in through the window, leaving the house much too dark for Merylo’s comfort. The front room-the only room-was barely furnished and filthy. The place stunk like an outdoor toilet. The walls were water-stained. He saw a huge rat skitter across the floor. It was barely a step up from the shacks in Shantytown, if that.

“Disgusting,” he murmured under his breath.

In the far corner, a blanket moved. Someone was underneath it.