“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?”
“He had knives!”
“Who doesn’t?”
“There are stains all over his bathtub!”
“Have you had those stains analyzed?” Ness gave him a sharp look. “Yes, I suspected you had. So have I.”
“How did you get in there?”
“And you know what your dark stains turn out to be? Dirt. That’s all. No blood. No bodily fluids. Common ordinary dirt.”
“He still confessed.”
“After you broke his rib cage.”
O’Donnell tucked in his chin and stared into Ness’s eyes. They glared at each other for a long moment. Then O’Donnell punched a button on the intercom box on his desk. “Send in Crawford.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You might like to know,” Ness said, “that the American Civil Liberties Union is already investigating to determine whether you violated Dolezal’s civil rights. The civil liberties committee of the American Bar Association is planning a similar investigation.”
“Friends of yours?”
“Not at all. Just concerned citizens. People who don’t want to see a two-bit political crony run roughshod over a man’s constitutional rights. Even a man like Dolezal.”
O’Donnell lurched forward. “Why can’t you just leave it alone? The people want this thing to be over. It’s better for everyone.”
“Not if there’s still a killer on the loose.”
A moment later there was a knock on the door. A tall, burly uniformed officer stepped into the office. O’Donnell motioned him over. The two men talked in whispers for a few moments. Then the uniform left the room.
“Last-minute assignment?”
“Just asked him to prepare the prisoner. I assume you’re going to want to talk to him.”
“You’re right about that.”
“You know, Ness-Mayor Burton is going to lose the next election.”
“That’s always a possibility.”
“And when he goes-you go with him.”
“I’ve never had any trouble finding work.”
“Until now. This could be your chance to join the winning team. If you’d just leave well enough alone.”
“Don’t think so.”
“Give it another week and no one will remember who actually caught this guy. They’ll just be glad it’s over. And you can move on without this albatross hanging around your neck. No one will know the difference.”
“Wrong. I’ll know.”
“And nothing will change your mind?”
“I’d like the suspect to take a polygraph.”
O’Donnell sniffed. “Don’t believe in them. They aren’t reliable.”
“I figured as much. May I see the prisoner now?”
O’Donnell’s office door flew open, this time without the preliminary knock. “Sheriff!” It was his receptionist.
“Yes?”
“It’s cell B-four. He did the Dutch! He’s hung himself!”
Ness’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “What have you done?”
“What have / done? Did you not hear the woman?” He turned to the receptionist. “Call the medics, Lily. Get them in there as soon as possible.” O’Donnell rose. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Ness, I have some business.”
“I’m coming with you.” “I don’t allow civilians-” “I’m coming with you.”
“County rules. Under no circumstances may-” Ness looked at him levelly. “I’m coming with you. With or without the press.”
O’Donnell frowned. “Suit yourself then. Hurry!”
45
Merylo cleaned up before visiting the Sandusky Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Home. He still wasn’t planning to identify himself as a police officer. At the same time, he doubted he could persuade the proprietress to speak to a bum in an unkempt beard and filthy clothing.
He waited until he saw Doc leave the building, dressed in what appeared to be the same suit he had worn the day before. As soon as the man was out of sight, Merylo walked up the front steps. He knocked on the front door of the gabled two-story white house. Only a few moments later, a woman wearing a plain print dress opened the door.
“Are you Mary McGovern?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“Name’s Peter Smith, ma’am. I work for the Board of Examiners.”
She held the door only partly open between them, just enough to allow them to speak. “Who?”
“The Board of Examiners, ma’am.” He paused. “The folks who are going to decide whether the good doctor will have his license to practice medicine reinstated.”
“Oh dear. Oh dear me.” She opened the door the rest of the way. “Please come in.”
Mary showed Merylo into the front sitting room. He took a somewhat worn davenport while she took the armchair catercorner to it.
“I was afraid something like this might happen. I knew that he had lost his job, of course, but I had hoped he might find another one somewhere. Even in this awful Depression, people still need doctors, right?”
“That’s right, ma’am. But we have to make sure those doctors can be trusted.”
“Of course you do.”
“Let me tell you first of all, Mrs. McGovern, that this conversation will be held in the strictest confidence.”
“Thank you.”
“By the same token, I expect you to keep our little visit secret, too. You can’t tell anyone-not even the doctor.”
“Well, if you say so.”
“We don’t want to give him more to worry about without cause.”
“Oh, no. Of course not.”
Merylo pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket, flipped to an empty page, and began to read. “The doctor was committed to this institution as a result of his alcoholism, is that correct, ma’am?”
“That’s my understanding.”
“Is your establishment subsidized by the state?”
“No, we’re private.”
“So the doctor is a wealthy man?”
“Actually, a relative is paying the costs. A wealthy cousin.”
“Does the doctor have a job?”
“Not that I know of. He’s been looking, but, well, I guess his colleagues at City Hospital have said some rather nasty things about him.”
City Hospital? He worked at City Hospital?
The same place Edward Andrassy once worked.
“Do you know what they were saying?”
“I’ve heard that he came to work intoxicated on more than one occasion. And that he sometimes flew off the handle, which, bless my soul, I can’t even believe. He’s such a kind, gentle man. At least, when he hasn’t been… you know.”
“Of course.”
“I even heard a rumor that he became violent and threatened a man in the hospital with a… a… oh, what do you call those little knives doctors use?”
“A scalpel, ma’am?”
“Yes. That’s it exactly. A scalpel. But I can’t imagine it. Perhaps the incident was exaggerated.”
“Perhaps so.”
“I’m sure he was just a little rocky. Men are sometimes, you know, when their home life is disrupted so dramatically.”
“His home life?”
“You know about his wife, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“Oh goodness. Then you need to. His wife divorced him. Just up and left.”
“Poor man.”