"You sound cruel, Mr. Wild."
"Guys like that are used to life dealing 'em a lousy hand. Anyway, don't kid yourself-most bums were bums before there was a depression."
"Then why are you so put out with our mutual friend?"
" 'Our mutual friend' screwed me, if you'll pardon my French. He didn't invite me along on that little hayride and that put my ass in a sling with my city editor. Me, who's supposed to be his right-hand man."
"Well, you work for the Plain Dealer, not the safety director's office."
"True. But Eliot knows that he's my only assignment. When he goes out on something this big, I got to get a piece of it."
She smiled to herself. Sighed. "He does have a selfish streak, our Mr. Ness."
"Our Mr. Ness sees things one way: his."
She rolled her eyes like Eddie Cantor. "You're telling me."
"Why do I have the feeling Eliot gave you the short end of the stick, too? And why do I have the feeling that's what you wanted to talk about today?"
She smiled impishly. "Because he did, and I do. Want to talk about it, that is."
He smiled at her shrewdly; tapped the air with a forefinger. "It's that 'something big' you mentioned last night, isn't it? The information you gave Eliot yesterday that he just 'shrugged off,' I think you said."
"My. You're very perceptive, Mr. Wild."
"I'm a reporter, and flattery will only get you the key to my apartment."
"Really?"
"Lady, the only thing I'd like more out of life than being city editor myself someday is marrying a beautiful heiress."
That seemed to amuse and please her. "Is that right? And I qualify?"
"Well, as soon as you fall head-over-heels over me you will. Didn't you see It Happened One Night? You're perfect for the Claudette Colbert role."
"Gee," she said mock wistfully, "I'm usually told I'm the Carole Lombard type. As for you, you look about as much like Clark Gable as our waiter."
"Actually," Wild said, "I thought our waiter looked a little like Carole Lombard."
She laughed, sipped her lemonade. "If we're going to go on with this giddy repartee, we'd better move to a bar so we have alcohol as an excuse."
"Vivian-"
"Viv."
"Viv, I like you. You're a good kid, for a rich girl. But sometimes I get the feeling… hell. I don't know how to say this without spoiling a beautiful friendship."
"Sam, say what you think. As if you didn't always."
"Last night was… well, it was last night. Only here it is today, and you still seem interested in me. Now, maybe you got a yen for impoverished newshounds, I dunno; I realize, of course, I have this striking resemblance to Clark Gable that attracts you wildly. But we don't exactly come from the same worlds. In fact, we only got one thing in common."
She nodded. Looked down at her lemonade.
"Eliot," she admitted.
"Eliot Ness," Wild confirmed. "So I have to wonder if your wanting to be around me doesn't have something to do with that."
"Sam…"
"I guess in my tactless way, I'm asking if last night might've had something to do with wanting to… 'show' Eliot?"
If she weren't so sophisticated-or trying to be-she would've looked hurt; but her expression managed to get something else across: disappointment in him.
"Last night had to do with showing you," she said. "And… it had a little to do with too many Bacardis."
"Okay," he said. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
"About what?"
"About what you told Eliot yesterday that he's ignoring like the stuffy, stubborn bastard he is."
She smirked to herself, sighed elaborately. "It sounds crazy but
… I think I know who the Butcher is."
"What?" Wild's eyes narrowed to slits. "I can't picture Eliot ignoring that… it's not like it's just anybody approaching him-you worked for him."
"Not lately. And he thinks I'm just…"
"Looking for an excuse to be around him?"
She nibbled at a little sandwich. Nodded.
He reached across and patted her hand. "Well, I'm prepared to listen. Tell me about your Butcher."
She smiled, pleased to be taken seriously, even if a bit condescendingly. She pushed her plate aside and sat forward, green eyes flashing. "You know how the experts, Eliot among them, have been harping on the 'professional' way the bodies have been cut up-they say again and again there's a 'surgical' look to the dismemberments."
Wild nodded, suddenly glad he'd had such a light lunch.
She went on: "They've been saying that a doctor-anyway, somebody who'd at least been in medical school for a time-would be a likely candidate for the Butcher."
"Sure."
"And medical school's expensive, so, it stands to reason, the Butcher just might run in the same social circles as yours truly."
"Well, I don't know about…"
"For the sake of argument?"
"For the sake of argument." He shrugged. He fired up a Lucky.
"Do you know Dr. Watterson of the Western Reserve?"
"We're not exactly close. He's a big shot, I know that… top surgeon, top anatomy professor, serves on various boards of directors, widely respected… hey, you're not suggesting-"
"No! No."
"Good. I mean, Viv-Watterson is one of the experts who's worked the case, for cryin' out loud. He was on Eliot's goddamn Torso Clinic!"
"Not him. Not the father. The son."
"There's a son?"
"A son named Lloyd." She seemed embarrassed suddenly; gestured nervously. "I know him socially. He's cheerful, seems like a nice enough guy, if just a little… off."
"Well, now I guess he'd have to be, if he went around cutting people up, wouldn't he?"
She frowned; she looked like a little girl whose dollhouse had been messed with. "If you're not going to take this seriously…"
"I am. I am. Go on, go on."
"Well. He's a big man, very strong-the kind of strength it might take to do some of the things the Butcher has done."
"The same could be said of thousands upon thousands of men in this city, Viv."
"Are you going to listen? Lloyd's an only child, and his father always expected him to be a doctor." She smiled wickedly. "But a few years ago, guess what Lloyd did? He flunked out of medical school."
Wild sat forward.
"He's engaged to a friend of mine. But the engagement keeps getting postponed. She's confided in me, a couple of times, that she's afraid they're never going to get married. She says… she says Lloyd never touches her."
"Touches her how? You mean…?"
"Sexually. They're very affectionate in public, but in private, he gets all high-tone about waiting until after they're married to 'consummate' their love."
Wild blew out some cigarette smoke. "Maybe he's old-fashioned."
"He's also seeing a psychiatrist. Jennifer… that's his fiancee… told me that, too."
"A lot of people see psychiatrists, Viv."
"Sam, I was on a double date a few months ago… this guy I was seeing for a while, a typical society loser, never mind about him.. we were out with Jennifer and Lloyd at the Vogue Room, and we ran into Eliot and Ev. They stopped by the table. Well, the conversation got around to the 'Mad Butcher,' though Eliot was reluctant to talk business, as usual; but, anyway, Lloyd seemed overly interested in it, it seemed to me."
"Surely Eliot would've picked up on that, if that were the case."
"I don't think so. Eliot was… well, distracted by having both Ev and me around. Also, he wasn't aware of Lloyd's background. And, hell, I didn't think about it much till later, because shortly after that… actually that same night… the first body in some time turned up. So then I found myself going over the conversation again and again in my mind."
"Maybe you've blown it up out of proportion."
"Maybe. But one of the things that stuck with me was the way Lloyd referred to the Butcher that night… he consistently called him the 'Mad Doctor.' Not the Butcher. Doctor."