Ness again sat in the straight-backed chair. He looked at the father and son and noted that, apart from their size, there was no family resemblance between dark doctor father and fair failed-doctor son.
'We have a certain amount of circumstantial evidence,' Ness began, speaking to the father, 'suggesting that your son may have some knowledge pertaining to the ongoing investigation of the so-called Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run.'
Dr. Watterson's smile was a twitch, too, but not a nervous one. 'I'm well aware of the case, Mr. Ness. You know very well I've been involved in the pathological workups on several of the victims.'
'Yes. I just feel we should begin at the beginning. I want both you and your son to understand why we find it necessary to trouble you with this. I don't have to tell you of the level of concern in the community over these crimes.'
'You certainly do not,' Dr. Watterson said.
'Also,' Ness said diplomatically, 'we have a report of violence at your son's home yesterday.'
'I told you on the phone,' the doctor said curtly, 'what my son's position is on that matter. We're discussing with our attorneys whether or not to bring charges against Mr. Wild and Miss Chalmers.'
Ness nodded slowly. 'I can understand that. That might be appropriate. However, it might simply serve to open an embarrassing can of worms.'
Dr. Watterson s patronizing mask slipped just a bit; and Ness noticed that the man's eyes did have some spiderwebbing of red. Lloyd seemed to be trying to suppress the urge to giggle.
'There can be no doubt,' Ness said, 'that your son is living in a building once used as a doctor's surgery.'
'We don't deny that,' Dr. Watterson said. 'It's where I first worked.'
'Yes. And, having been involved with the Butcher investigation, you know that we have been searching for a 'murder lab,' for want of a better term, somewhere in the areas adjoining the Run. Now, and I'm afraid this is a little embarrassing, Dr. Watterson… but I've done some checking with the fire wardens.'
Dr. Watterson frowned. Lloyd smiled.
'You see, I wondered how it could be that my search of those areas by fire wardens, accompanied by homicide detectives, might have missed such an obvious 'murder lab' candidate. I have since learned that you own a number of properties, in addition to your former residence cum surgery, rooming houses, all of which are in the less-than-prosperous areas bordering Kingsbury Run. I have also learned that Lloyd, as the manager of your business affairs, is in charge of those properties; that he calls regularly upon the landladies tending those properties; that he keeps rooms at those properties where he often stays under assumed names.'
Dr. Watterson's pale face became paler. Lloyd was no longer smiling.
'When the fire wardens were canvassing Central Avenue,' Ness said, 'one of them received a call from you, Dr. Watterson. Do you recall making it?'
'I do,' Dr. Watterson said stiffly. 'I assured the fire warden that my properties were well-maintained and not in need of inspection.'
'You asked that these properties not be disrupted by the rather thorough searches other buildings in the area were being subjected to,' Ness said.
'Yes.'
'And the fire warden with whom you spoke agreed to take care of it.'
'Yes he did.'
'How much did you pay him?'
'That's an impertinent question.'
'Well, perhaps it is. The fire warden in question has admitted complying with your wishes-apparently you dropped some big names, if not dollars-and I'm inclined not to 'subject' this city employee to further investigation, since he's cooperating with us. Why did you make that call, Dr. Watterson? Why did you make that request?'
'Well… I…'
'Your son asked you to. Didn't he?'
Dr. Watterson said nothing. Then he glanced at his son, who smiled nervously.
'Yes, he did,' the doctor said. 'But it seemed to me then, and seems to me now, a reasonable request. The searches were an invasion of privacy and a disruption of business.'
'Fair enough,' Ness said, nodding again. 'But you should also know that a number of shantytown denizens have identified Lloyd's picture, confirming that he went among them under an assumed name, posing as one of them.'
Dr. Watterson gazed unblinkingly at Ness. 'My son's avocation is sociological research.'
'Fine. But I think you can understand that we have the disturbing beginnings of a possible case against your son. Or at least the suggestion that in his 'sociological research' in these slum areas, he has encountered evidence that, for whatever reason, he's withheld.'
The father looked at the son again. The son had a blank, vaguely sad expression, as if Ness's evidence- circumstantial though it was-had worn him down.
'So,' Dr. Watterson said. 'You're suggesting my son submit to a lie detector test.'
'Yes,' Ness said.
The doctor narrowed his eyes. 'Perhaps it would be a good way to put this ridiculous assertion to rest.'
Ness looked at Lloyd and smiled pleasantly. 'What do you think, Lloyd? You've been strangely silent about all this.'
Lloyd brightened. 'Why, Eliot, I think it's a splendid idea. But, uh… why don't we get some lunch first? We can chat a little about this situation.'
Ness shook his head gently no. 'I don't really think dismemberments are proper dinner-table conversation, Lloyd.'
'Well, I'd just like you to explain the lie detector to me. I'm interested in science, after all. I don't intend to submit to something that I don't understand.'
'I don't expect you to,' Ness said.
'I only believe in the scientific,' Lloyd said. 'The proven. Why should I put my life on the line for something pseudopsychic? This smacks of mind reading and fortune-telling to me.'
'All right.' Ness said. He looked at his watch. 'It is noon.'
Dr. Watterson said, 'We could go downstairs to the dining room. Perhaps it would do us all good to talk like civilized people.'
Ness had thought he'd been extremely civilized, considering that in these past minutes he'd lost whatever shred of doubt he might have had about Lloyd's guilt. The big blond young man was the Butcher of Kingsbury Run. Ness would have staked his life on it.
'Why don't I call down to room service,' Ness said, wanting to keep the meeting contained to this room, where it was being taped. 'We can eat up here.'
That seemed agreeable to all, and Ness ordered three steak plates.
'They'll be up soon,' he said, and returned to his straight-backed chair. 'Why don't you let me explain to you some of the principles of the polygraph, Lloyd.'
Lloyd shrugged. 'Why not?'
Ness explained that the polygraph was a scientific instrument, stressing the word 'scientific,' measuring physiological reactions of the body to emotion and stress.
'These measurements,' Ness said, 'are provided by monitoring blood pressure, heartbeat, and changes in body chemistry, as reflected by an instrument that records the electrodermal changes in the skin.'
Lloyd sat forward through this, clearly interested. He said, 'I agree that emotions do affect the body-fear, anger, grief, joy, they can all make the heart pump more rapidly. But I wouldn't think lying would.'
'The mental process of lying,' Ness said, 'upsets the emotional balance ever so slightly-but not so slightly that the polygraph can't pick up on it.'
'It sounds improbable,' Lloyd said.
'Here. Let me show you.'
Ness stood and gestured Lloyd over to the polygraph desk. Lloyd seemed the kind of subject who needed to understand the machine before submitting to it, and that was fine with Ness. He removed the central, blotterlike cover and revealed a rectangle of light brown metal with many dials and knobs, as if on an elaborate ham radio outfit, next to which was a roll of paper cross-ruled in brown ink, in chart fashion, about five inches wide. Three
