Nemesis: The Final Case of Eliot Ness by William Bernhardt Page B
Authors: William Bernhardt
Tags: detective
Ads: Link
remember."
"Jack the Ripper stalked the streets of London in the 1880s," Pearce explained, "in Whitechapel, one of the poorest and most decadent parts of the city-not unlike Kingsbury Run. Took at least five victims. Taunted the police with cryptic messages. Used a knife. But he wasn't content to simply kill his victims. He destroyed them. With such anatomical accuracy that some people suspected he might be a doctor. Or a butcher. He seemed particularly interested in destroying female reproductive systems. Ripped them to shreds. Hence the name."
"Was he ever caught?"
"Never."
Merylo squinted. "And you're saying this... Jack the Ripper might be the one who's killing people in Cleveland?"
Pearce's eyes drifted heavenward. "No, that is not what I'm saying. Detective, have you considered the possibility of consulting an alienist?"
Merylo blinked twice. "A what?"
"A doctor of the mind."
"How's he supposed to catch a killer?"
"By understanding how he thinks."
"How's that going to help?"
"If the killer is not behaving rationally, traditional methods of crime solving will be of no avail. You must develop new approaches."
"Sounds like a load of hogwash to me."
"If you understand how the killer thinks, you might be able to anticipate his next move."
"I don't want a next move! I want to catch him before he strikes again."
Pearce blew a dense cloud of smoke into the air. "Have either of you gentlemen heard of a Viennese doctor called Sigmund Freud?"
"No," Merylo said gruffly. "We haven't."
"Um, actually..." Zalewski shuffled his feet. "I have."
Merylo stared at him as if he were some kind of bug.
"What do you know about him?"
Zalewski's face flushed. "A few years ago, I was having these really bad dreams. Nightmares, you know? I'd dream I woke up in the morning and parts of my body were missing. Or I'd be coming to work, except with no clothes on."
"That's just weird," Merylo grumbled.
"Not really," Pearce said. "Those are universal fears. Haven't you ever had dreams like that?"
Merylo's face hardened. "No. Never."
"Anyway," Zalewski continued, "my ma was worried about me. So she got me this book by that guy you were talking about, that Freud. The Interpretation of Dreams. Turns out this guy thinks your dreams are like symbols, and by examining your dreams you can learn about yourself."
"What did you learn about yourself from the book?" Pearce asked.
Zalewski stared at the floor. "Tell you the truth-I thought it was kinda tough goin'."
Pearce smiled slightly, possibly for the first time Merylo had ever seen. "You're not the first to think so. Doctor Freud is perhaps a greater doctor than a writer. And there have been questions about the accuracy of his English translator." Pearce paused, taking another drag on his cigarette. "If you're interested, I could put you in touch with an alienist of my acquaintance. He lives in New York but for a case of this significance, I'm sure-"
"Thanks very much, Doctor," Merylo said abruptly, "but I don't think we need any newfangled college-boy nonsense. We'll solve this case the old-fashioned way. By beating the streets and doing good solid detective work."
"As you wish. But if you change your mind-"
"Thanks, Doc, but I won't. Andrassy may have been a punk, but he was still a criminal and he hung with criminals. If we sniff around long enough, we'll find out who wanted him dead bad enough to-"
All at once, the door to the coroner's office flew open. "Detective Merylo!"
Merylo recognized the kid as one of the boys from Bertillon, but he couldn't remember his name. "Yeah?"
"We've identified the new corpse."
Merylo's eyes ballooned. "Yeah?"
"Took awhile-the fingers were in such poor condition. But we managed it. Turns out we have her prints on file."
A smile spread from one end of Merylo's face to the other. "Because she has a criminal record?"
"Exactly."
"Swell." Merylo gave Zalewski a little shove toward the door. "We've identified two victims now. All we have to do
"Jack the Ripper stalked the streets of London in the 1880s," Pearce explained, "in Whitechapel, one of the poorest and most decadent parts of the city-not unlike Kingsbury Run. Took at least five victims. Taunted the police with cryptic messages. Used a knife. But he wasn't content to simply kill his victims. He destroyed them. With such anatomical accuracy that some people suspected he might be a doctor. Or a butcher. He seemed particularly interested in destroying female reproductive systems. Ripped them to shreds. Hence the name."
"Was he ever caught?"
"Never."
Merylo squinted. "And you're saying this... Jack the Ripper might be the one who's killing people in Cleveland?"
Pearce's eyes drifted heavenward. "No, that is not what I'm saying. Detective, have you considered the possibility of consulting an alienist?"
Merylo blinked twice. "A what?"
"A doctor of the mind."
"How's he supposed to catch a killer?"
"By understanding how he thinks."
"How's that going to help?"
"If the killer is not behaving rationally, traditional methods of crime solving will be of no avail. You must develop new approaches."
"Sounds like a load of hogwash to me."
"If you understand how the killer thinks, you might be able to anticipate his next move."
"I don't want a next move! I want to catch him before he strikes again."
Pearce blew a dense cloud of smoke into the air. "Have either of you gentlemen heard of a Viennese doctor called Sigmund Freud?"
"No," Merylo said gruffly. "We haven't."
"Um, actually..." Zalewski shuffled his feet. "I have."
Merylo stared at him as if he were some kind of bug.
"What do you know about him?"
Zalewski's face flushed. "A few years ago, I was having these really bad dreams. Nightmares, you know? I'd dream I woke up in the morning and parts of my body were missing. Or I'd be coming to work, except with no clothes on."
"That's just weird," Merylo grumbled.
"Not really," Pearce said. "Those are universal fears. Haven't you ever had dreams like that?"
Merylo's face hardened. "No. Never."
"Anyway," Zalewski continued, "my ma was worried about me. So she got me this book by that guy you were talking about, that Freud. The Interpretation of Dreams. Turns out this guy thinks your dreams are like symbols, and by examining your dreams you can learn about yourself."
"What did you learn about yourself from the book?" Pearce asked.
Zalewski stared at the floor. "Tell you the truth-I thought it was kinda tough goin'."
Pearce smiled slightly, possibly for the first time Merylo had ever seen. "You're not the first to think so. Doctor Freud is perhaps a greater doctor than a writer. And there have been questions about the accuracy of his English translator." Pearce paused, taking another drag on his cigarette. "If you're interested, I could put you in touch with an alienist of my acquaintance. He lives in New York but for a case of this significance, I'm sure-"
"Thanks very much, Doctor," Merylo said abruptly, "but I don't think we need any newfangled college-boy nonsense. We'll solve this case the old-fashioned way. By beating the streets and doing good solid detective work."
"As you wish. But if you change your mind-"
"Thanks, Doc, but I won't. Andrassy may have been a punk, but he was still a criminal and he hung with criminals. If we sniff around long enough, we'll find out who wanted him dead bad enough to-"
All at once, the door to the coroner's office flew open. "Detective Merylo!"
Merylo recognized the kid as one of the boys from Bertillon, but he couldn't remember his name. "Yeah?"
"We've identified the new corpse."
Merylo's eyes ballooned. "Yeah?"
"Took awhile-the fingers were in such poor condition. But we managed it. Turns out we have her prints on file."
A smile spread from one end of Merylo's face to the other. "Because she has a criminal record?"
"Exactly."
"Swell." Merylo gave Zalewski a little shove toward the door. "We've identified two victims now. All we have to do
Similar Books
