small vestibule, he was in a narrow hall with a curved one-story ceiling, yellow plaster walls, and slate floor. Cops, both in uniform and plainclothes, were sleep-walking the tunnel-like hall, with about as much spring in their step as a Hooverville mattress. No one recognized the city's new safety director. Ness had a hunch it wouldn't have mattered if they had.
The chiefs office was on the left just down the hall and Ness stepped inside, took off his hat, smiled at the pleasant, middle-aged receptionist and said, 'Eliot Ness to see Chief Matowitz.'
She looked up with a bland smile, blinking behind glasses. 'Do you have an appointment… did you say 'Ness'?'
'Yes, I did.'
Her smile turned nervous, and she said, 'Excuse me a moment,' and moving in a birdlike manner she went into the inner office, briefly.
Soon Ness was ushered into the wood and pebbled-glass office, which was similar to his own at City Hall but slightly smaller, where the beefy, six-foot, fifty-three-year-old Chief of Police stood watering the pots of plants and flowers that lined the inside of a frosted windowsill.
'Mr. Ness, I'm flattered that you've dropped by.' The chief set his watering can on the edge of a polished mahogany desk uncluttered by work and came around to extend his hand for Ness to shake, which he did. The hand was moist, from the watering can, not from sweat. In one corner was a birdcage on a stand, where a parakeet chirped.
Chief Matowitz had a broad, lumpy, friendly face and blue eyes that seemed distant behind his wire-framed glasses. He was wearing his chief’s cap, a lighter blue than his crisp uniform with its gleaming silver badge, dark blue tie, and red lapel flower.
'I had a call from Mayor Burton first thing this morning,' the chief said, pulling up a chair opposite his desk for Ness, 'and was assured that my position is secure. I was relieved to hear that.'
'You've put in thirty-one years of service to the department,' Ness said, sitting, unbuttoning his topcoat but leaving it on. 'That's nothing to sneeze at.'
'I want you to know,' the other man said, resuming the watering of his potted plants and flowers, 'that I'm behind you one hundred per cent. Whatever it takes. Don't hesitate to call on me.'
'That's good to hear.'
'There's a lot of fine boys in our department. You hear a lot of scuttlebutt to the contrary, but don't you believe it. Why, I can quote you chapter and verse, comparing statistics of crime figures in other cities of similar size to our fine city, and you'll see our department is doing a top-notch job.' His voice was shaking with emotion, or seemed to be, as he added, 'The Cleveland Police Department is the finest in the world. I'm proud of my boys.'
Ness shifted in his chair, his irritation barely in check. 'Chief, we have one of the worst departments in the world. And rooting out the corruption that makes it that way is my top priority.'
The chief balled his free hand and shook the fist and did his best to look determined. 'And well it should be. Those rotten apples can spoil the whole barrel.'
Ness sighed and cleared his throat. 'I feel we should discuss the situation.'
'So do I,' Matowitz said forcefully. 'So do I.' He placed the watering can on a window sill and moved to the parakeet's cage, where he began feeding the bird bread crumbs.
'Do you have any ideas, Chief?'
The chief turned momentarily away from his chirping bird to look at Ness blankly. 'Ideas?'
'I thought you might have some suggestions on where our investigation might begin.'
'What investigation is that?'
'Into our corrupt goddamn department.'
The chief’s face took on a thoughtful look. 'Let me get back to you on that. I'd like to check with my staff on that one.'
Ness shifted in his seat again. This guy was driving him batty. 'Chief, I'm going to be moving very fast. You're going to have to play some heads-up ball, here.'
Matowitz moved away from the bird cage. He walked behind the desk and sat. Ness was not sure whether the chiefs plant-watering and bird-feeding reflected a lack of concern, or masked his nervousness. Or maybe the guy just wasn't playing with a full deck.
'I have heard bad things about the fourteenth and fifteenth precincts,' the chief admitted, twiddling his thumbs. 'Rumors, mainly. The Detective Bureau hasn't been able to confirm anything.'
'The Detective Bureau is something I wanted to discuss with you.'
'Oh?'
'Chief of Detectives Potter strikes me as a problem.'
The chief’s expression turned grave. 'Inspector Potter has many friends, Mr. Ness.'
'Friends in the Davis administration. Not Burton's.'
'He's still a powerful man…'
'I'm not surprised. The word I heard back at the Alcohol and Tax Unit was that Potter is the guy to see if you want your gambling resort or bookie joint protected.'
'That's a serious allegation.'
'And I don't intend to make it, not publicly.'
'You don't?'
'No. Not yet, anyway. I'm going to transfer Potter. Maybe even promote him. But he's not going to head up our Detective Bureau anymore.'
Ness knew that Potter had been running the show in the department during the two years of Mayor Davis' feckless administration, and that Matowitz, a holdover from an earlier regime, had been more or less a figure- head.
'You could run into trouble, Mr. Ness,' the chief said. 'The former mayor is still a powerful figure politically.'
'I know. I know all about the free-for-all that the city council's going to turn into. And I don't really care.'
Matowitz's expression darkened. He seemed to be taking Ness more seriously now, and, if nothing else, had stopped twiddling his thumbs. 'If I might say so, this is nothing to take lightly, Mr. Ness.'
'Chief, I'm not a political appointee. I'm beholden to nobody, except Mayor Burton, and he only got me to take this job by promising me a free hand. So we're going to shake things up, understood?'
The chief didn't seem to, but he said, 'Understood.'
Ness sighed. He didn't dare mention Burton's ticking clock. If Matowitz got wind of the fragility of Ness' position, then the chief could lean back and do nothing except water his plants and feed his birds and wait for Ness to fail.
Ness tried again, a different tack. 'I looked over your record this morning before coming over. It's impressive. Impressive as hell.'
That threw Matowitz a little. He almost mumbled his thanks.
'You're a good cop,' Ness said. 'And, I think, a clean one.'
The chief said, tersely, 'No one has ever suggested that George Matowitz was on the pad.'
'You have one of the most distinguished records of any detective in the city,' Ness went on. 'Perhaps the country. You were dogged in your work, chasing killers to Mexico, and to Sicily. Hoodlums feared you. You were a boxer and a wrestler and you put those skills to use on the street.'
Ness stopped there. He could see in the older man's sagging face that he'd made his point, that the chief had discerned the unasked question: how could a hard-nosed, first-rate cop like you turn into an ineffectual, incompetent chair-holder?
This man had, after all, been a cop for almost as long as Ness had been alive. Would time do that to him, too? Did years inevitably put the fire out?
And the chief answered the unasked questions. He smiled, but there was sadness in the smile, and his hands were folded in a dignified manner as he said, 'You're a young man, Mr. Ness. You're going places. When you get there, you will be better fit to judge.'
'I didn't mean to sit in judgment.'
'You're new to the city, Mr. Ness. I've been here a long time. Since I was six, since my father brought us over
