Part 26 (1/2)
”Then look at home. What about that creepy guy on her floor you told me about?”
Dead girls didn't interest Heather, who interrupted with: ”Is that hostage-negotiator guy still chasing you?”
Theresa leaned against the table to give the muscles in her b.u.t.t some relief from the onslaught of gravity and considered this. Chris Cavanaugh called her rarely and inconsistently, which hardly const.i.tuted chasing. And yet nothing gave her the impression he had stopped calling. ”I suppose.”
”Are you going to let him catch you?”
”Actually”-Theresa sipped and inwardly agreed that the punch did need some rum-”I've been seeing another man. Older. Distinguished.”
Behind Heather, Frank rolled his eyes.
”Likes trains,” Theresa went on.
Perky didn't equal dumb. Heather apparently suspected a put-on and left to steer her toddler away from the punch bowl as he poised himself to fish for the floating lumps of sherbet. Theresa and Frank escaped for some fresh air.
The backyard of Frank's mother's house ended in trees, and Theresa watched the setting sun turn them into an inferno of reds and golds. Forty years old, and still the only person she wanted to talk to was her cousin. Maybe Leo and Irene Schaffer and everyone else was right. She had a gap in her life and needed someone to fill it.
She asked Frank, ”Did you find out any more about James Miller's work history?”
”Not much. Hired in 1929, made detective in '32. His partner's name was Walter McKenna. Human Resources did find a few reports relating to Miller's disappearance; they were in with the paperwork to dismiss him from the rolls for apparent dereliction of duty. The partner had no idea what had happened to him. They had been working on the investigation of the third victim, the one killed in June 1936.”
”The Tattooed Man. The one who should die tonight. I mean, the murder our current killer should be planning to re-create tonight.”
”I know what you meant. Anyway, at the end of the day McKenna went home to dinner and they parted ways. He never saw Miller again. Miller's wife said he never came home. End of report.”
”So he ran into the killer by coincidence, or he followed a lead he didn't tell his wife or his partner about.”
”Or the partner's lying,” Frank supposed.
”Why would he?”
”Cleveland was pretty wild then. Organized crime ran the city and most of the cops were helping them do it. That's why they hired Ness, to clean up both the city and the department.”
Clouds were creeping up to block out parts of the sunset and she hoped it wouldn't rain on tonight's stakeout. ”You think Miller worked for the mob and they killed him?”
”Or he didn't, and dirty cops killed him.”
It surprised her that he would suggest such a thing, but then, it had happened a long time ago and it would hardly reflect on today's police force. ”You think so?”
”No, not really. I can't see a cop cutting someone's head off. The mob would at least have had a little more practice at it. Maybe they intended to plant the body in a way that would make everyone think the Torso killer did it, and lost their nerve or changed their minds. Or it really was the Torso killer. Who knows? If they couldn't solve it in 1936 I doubt we can now.”
”Maybe we can. At least we've narrowed the suspects down to the tenants of that building,” she said, aware that she was echoing Brandon Jablonski's earlier words.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, thinking. A V of geese flew above them, heading for the dusky southeast sky with a round of startlingly loud honks.
”Weird, isn't it?”
Frank lit a cigarette. ”What?”
”This case has fascinated Cleveland for three-quarters of a century. I just keep wondering what Grandpa would say if he knew we were working on it.”
Frank said nothing and puffed, staring at the trees. ”We used to watch The Untouchables all the time,” she said. ”When I got older and started reading true crime I'd tell him about every case I read. Most of them he already knew.”
”And I'm the one who became a cop,” Frank said.
His words settled through the air like a layer of dust, and suddenly she heard what he had been trying to say, possibly for years. He had been one of the boys in a sea of girls. He had listened to Grandpa's tales and had gone into the same line of work. If anyone became their grandfather's favorite, it should have been Frank. Not her.
Frank had spent as much time with him as Theresa had, at least before her father died. After that no one had been around Grandpa as much as she had, or rather, no one had been around Theresa as much as Grandpa.
It would never have occurred to her that Frank resented that relations.h.i.+p, never in a million years, but now it seemed so obvious that she felt stupid.
”But you had a father,” was all she could think of to say.
He ground the cigarette into the gra.s.s, twisting hard as if to make sure the embers were out. ”Not much of one.”
That was true.
”Frank-”
He didn't look at her. ”Come on, let's go in. You have presents to open so we can get out of here and back to the stakeout. I got you Scott Joplin CDs; sorry to ruin the surprise.”
”But, Frank-”
”It's a boxed set. Better rip into them now.” The sun, beginning its nightly dip, turned his face to scarlet. ”We're going to have to go.”
CHAPTER 34.
MONDAY, JANUARY 27.
1936.
James and Walter had to wait until the following day to find the doctor in. To James's frustration, they had neglected to get a home address for him during the Irene Schaffer investigation and he had no listing in the city directory. But Monday, despite the cold, found the building at 4950 Pullman full and bustling.
Odessa, of course, not only denied being Flo Polillo's Dr. Manzella but denied knowing a Dr. Manzella. He showed no concern over the name, merely added a new bottle to the spa.r.s.e collection on his shelves, moving the items already present so that there would be equal s.p.a.cing among them all. ”I don't wish to be crude, gentlemen, but I don't include common wh.o.r.es among my patients.”
”As opposed to uncommon ones?” Walter asked.
”She wasn't a wh.o.r.e,” James said, though he knew this to be largely untrue. ”She held a job, most of the time.”
Odessa said, ”I'm not trying to be elitist, but you've seen the type of lady who leaves my office. If any of them needed to work they wouldn't be able to afford my services. It's a pity, really, for the lowest cla.s.ses are the ones who need nutrition counseling the most of all. If we had a government that cared for all its citizens equally-”
”So you don't know a Dr. Manzella?” James cut in.