paused to let that sink in. Then he said: 'It was evidence to that effect that led us to raiding shantytown.'
'And did we find the Butcher? Or any significant evidence of him or his possible whereabouts?'
Merlo sighed. Swallowed. 'No,' he admitted.
Ness sipped his Scotch.
'Well, if Dolezal really was the Butcher,' Merlo said, 'then he must have had an accomplice, who dumped the bodies later.'
Ness seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded. 'Perhaps you'll turn that accomplice up.'
'I mean to,' Merlo said tightly, and slid out of the booth and turned to go.
'Sergeant,' Ness said.
Merlo glanced back, his features hard.
'You've done excellent work. I admire your dedication.'
Merlo's expression softened, slightly. 'Thank you, sir.'
'Good hunting.' Ness raised his glass to Merlo.
Merlo smiled humorlessly, briefly, turned, and went up the narrow aisle out of the gloomy bar into sunshine.
'Only there is no accomplice,' Wild said, moving to the other side of the booth, where Merlo had been sitting.
Ness sipped his Scotch.
'You oughta thank me, friend,' Wild said pleasantly, lighting up a Lucky.
'What for?'
'For not busting out laughing when you said Frank Dolezal was the Butcher.'
Ness smiled faintly again, swirled the Scotch in his glass, then drank some more, not sipping this time.
'Eliot. I've seen you drink plenty of times. But I don't remember seeing you drink before six o'clock. Not like this anyway.'
'I gave myself the afternoon off.'
'Well, I guess that's one of the fringe benefits of being the boss.'
Ness winced. 'Yes. I guess it is.'
Wild gestured with cigarette in hand, making trails of smoke. 'We're all alone back here. You care to tell me what the hell is going on?'
Ness locked eyes with Wild. 'What do you know about it?'
Wild shrugged. 'I know I was called in this morning by the publisher-not the city editor, not the managing editor, not the editor in chief-the goddamn publisher. And I was told not to write word one about Lloyd Watterson.'
Ness smiled the faint smile again and looked away.
'Why hasn't he been arrested, Eliot? Why is Merlo still working the Butcher case without any knowledge of Lloyd Watterson at all?'
'Lloyd Watterson,' Ness said evenly, 'was committed to an asylum for the insane this morning.'
'What? Where?'
'In Dayton. Maximum security. Under twenty-four-hour lock and key.'
'Jesus.'
'Can you think of a better place for him?'
'Sure! Death fucking row!'
Ness shrugged with his eyebrows. 'Good point.'
Wild sighed and stabbed out his smoke. 'I need a drink myself'
He went up to the bar and got himself a boilermaker and returned to the booth.
Then he said,'So it finally came due, huh?'
'What did?'
'The bill from the mayor's financial angels.'
Ness said nothing.
'The slush fund, the country club, the boathouse… all those nice perquisites. I told you they wouldn't come free, Eliot.'
'Yes, you did.'
The two men sat and quietly drank.
Then Ness said, 'The mayor asked it as a favor. It was no backroom meeting, Sam. There was really nothing that smacked of…'
'Being touchable?'
Ness smiled again, wryly this time. 'Nicely put. But then you reporters do have a way with words. What about you, Sam? Are you going to blow the whistle?'
'Are you kidding? When the publisher asks a favor, he isn't asking. And I never did have a conscience.'
'The important thing is we got the Butcher.'
'Yeah. We did at that.'
They toasted glasses.
Wild grinned. 'Ha! This is a sweet irony.'
'What is?'
'Here I sit with the biggest scoop of my life, and I can't write it up. There you are, old publicity-hound Ness, cracked the biggest case of your career, something to make old Scarface Al look like a footnote in your scrapbook, and you can't make the bust. You can't take the credit.'
Ness smiled on one side of his face. 'It's called poetic justice, Sam.'
'Where I come from its called getting screwed, but what the hell.'
Ness laughed silently.
'Look,' Wild said, 'you shouldn't feel bad about this. We did get the bastard. He's out of circulation, and that's what counts.'
Ness nodded.
'It might be different,' Wild said, 'if the city believed the Butcher were still at large. But with Dolezal as a scapegoat, that really takes a load off. Lloyd is getting denied his 'glory,' too, you know. You don't have to live with the thought of the good people of Cleveland looking over their collective shoulder, wondering if sometime the Butcher's gonna pop back out at 'em again.'
Ness nodded.
'Don't let it get to you,' Wild said with a dismissive wave. 'What's the harm in it?'
'The harm,' Ness said tightly, the rage bubbling under his apparent placidity suddenly evident, 'is that good cops like Merlo are going to keep working this case, for months, possibly years, wasting their time and the taxpayers' money, when their safety director knows they are on a fool's errand. The harm is that a good cop like Albert Curry has to live with looking the other way on something that bothers him morally.'
'It's called being a grown-up,' Wild said with a smirk. 'Curry will get over it.'
'It will change him. Not for the better.'
'Is it going to change you, Eliot?'
Ness said nothing. His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched. His eyes seemed cold, yet haunted, eyes that had seen too much. He sipped his Scotch and said pleasantly, 'Of course maybe Sergeant Merlo will find out about Lloyd Watterson.'
'You think so?'
'He's dedicated and he's obsessive. Someday, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now… Merlo may come lay Lloyd Watterson at the city's doorstep. I don't think Merlo gives a good goddamn about social standing and politics and such assorted bullshit.'
Wild drank some beer. 'You might be right. Does it worry you?'
'No,' Ness said. Then he smiled. 'It's kind of nice knowing your conscience is out there somewhere, working for you.'
'Better your conscience at large than the Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run.'
They drank in silence for a while.
