The windswept shoreline of the Cuyahoga River held a grimly dark secret that no one had anticipated until today. The rain and wind buffeted the dirty shoreline that jaggedly cut into the industrial heartland of Cleveland’s notorious Kingsbury Run. As the twin elements of wind and rain both heightened the restless water in which two police divers were searching, it also masked the public discourse that was aimed at the three lonesome men whom stood some distance from the muddy shoreline.
A singular thick sea of unforgiving mud lay between three lonesome men and the flurry of activity that was now taking place by the river as divers continually came up with new and unseen discoveries of a darkly macabre nature. Angry crowds of protestors were being barley held back numerous National Guardsmen whilst others directed their furious anger towards the three men from the above bridge that overlooked them all, conveniently allowing them to vent their frustrations directly down upon the small group.
Another bottle smashed near the agitated Ness, Merlyo and Zalewski as they hesitantly stood under the relentless rain with their fedora hats on, near the side of the muddy riverbank of the turbulent river. Ness’s hat amusingly had a piece of colour fabric stitched into it, concealing the gunshot hole he had obtained whilst chasing Polizzi’s men and now his famed fedora was somewhat of a celebrity in itself as many admired his dedication to its recovery. Unfortunately this patched hole regularly let in a small amount of rain water and Ness regularly emptied its unwanted contents upon the nearby ground but he was adamant on keeping it because it was both a reminder of Chicago and the miraculous escape from death.
A small group of National Guardsman where near them because they had found yet another victim of the Mad Butcher whilst guarding the West 3rd Street Bridge only a few hours ago. There where loud and angry crowds gathered behind both groups and on the bridge above them as numerous body parts were being regularly pulled out by divers an placed on the nearby river bank, causing the tempers of the on looking protestors to grow ever more heightened with each new body part that was being brought up to the surface. Constant shouting, abusive language and even the occasional throwing of garbage and bottles landed in the general area of the small group below the bridge. The angry crowds made their disparagingly negative views clear on what they thought about the safety director’s inept ability to solve the gruesome Mad Butcher case, a case that now besieged the city within an impregnable wall of depressing familiarity.
To make matters worse there were also labour reform problems within the city such as the Republic Steel Strike that was now being held in the nearby Flats area of Kingsbury Run. Ness had reluctantly felt forced to call in the National Guard in order to help calm down the volatile situation but it had alarmingly had the opposite effect and further enflamed tensions with the unsuspecting Guardsman’s grim discovery of dismembered human remains. The angry Ness felt somewhat embarrassed for feeling the need to call in the National Guard and it made him feel sick knowing that Congressman Sweeney would probably politically benefit from such a move. He suspected that the cunning Sweeney would blame this whole situation, the strike included, on his inability to successfully control Cleveland’s police forces and satisfactorily settle the labour dispute.
The Mad Butcher had already struck earlier that year two times, the first being on February 23rd when a man had found the lower half of a young woman's torso washed up on Euclid Beach, ominously in the exact same spot where the original Lady of the Lake had been discovered. This unidentified victims death was not caused by decapitation itself as this had only happened after she had died and her head was strangely never found which further alarmed detectives upon her discovery. Thankfully the sleep deprived Merlyo had not investigated this homicide scene when it was initially discovered because on that particular day he had remained at home to catch up on some vastly needed yet troubled sleep. He had called in sick on the day of her discovery due to him feeling unhealthily tired and drifted in and out of sleep, his mind filled with troubling thoughts of the Lady of the Lake and an assortment of various nightmares scenarios that all dealt with the submerging powers of water.
Upon hearing the tragic news of yet another victim being found in the very same location whereby the Lady of the Lake had been discovered, he became rather anxious because she still haunted him and regularly screamed at him to save her from the lonely beyond. To this day he still lacked the precious deep sleep that she so cruelly denied him and since the original Lady of the Lakes discovery, her phantom only increasing her traumatising attacks upon his dreams after this new victim’s discovery. He would often now wake up at night, sweating and screaming as he always tried to reach her as she sank deeper and deeper into the lakes murky depths whilst she held out her struggling arm in a never ending cycle of prolonged drowning. He would often now not know whether he was awake or asleep within his home, occasionally struggling with the soaking wet spectre whilst he was in his sweat drenched bed in a macabrely maddening spectacle with an unseen assailant that’s result was always a forgone conclusion. He would often now also see her during the day time and her regular appearances became almost commonplace to him, so much so that he now simply ignored her whilst she harassed him during the daylight hours.
She had regular habits of being more active during the witching hours of the night but also apparently enjoyed watching him shave in the morning as her shadowy, gruesome reflection often showed her curiously watching him from behind the bathtub’s shower curtain. She also liked to sit in the back seat of his trusty Ford whilst he was on his way to work, startling him regularly as she observed his driving ability in a silent act of macabre deviancy. She regularly sat across from him at his desk and spun around of a variety of vacant detectives chairs, scurrying around the office and giggling whilst she sneakily moving items that he had always suspected he had lost.
No matter how much she appeared to him and no matter how much more familiar she became, she would always manage to frighten the tired detective because she would torment him with maddening sounds and images from his subconscious mind until he started to emotionally brake down. It appeared that she only enjoyed interactions with him when he was more emotionally unstable and weak and it was as though she fed off his misery like a vampire would feed off of human blood for its life giving essence. As he got to know her better, these astute observations about her unusual behaviour almost consumed the detectives waking hours as he attempted to communicate with her in variety of different ways. He used the infamous Quija boards, hired notable Psychics to perform spiritual passing séance’s at his home and even called in priests of various religions disciplines in a vain attempt to push her purgatory trapped spirt into the light of the afterlife. However all his efforts to make her eternally rest and peacefully move on proved to be fruitless because these various inventive attempts had only appeared to have made her more restless and increased her disturbing activity, thus lessening what little sleep he had and making him now constantly straddle the line between reality and the realms of dreams.
The sleep deprived detective had even started to visit her unmarked grave and secretly updated her about any new developments within the case, hoping that by doing this it would lessen her hauntings of him. He even took the time to drop off flowers on the anniversary of her discovery at the Potter's Field Section of Highland Park Cemetery where she was ultimately laid to rest, once again hoping that this would at least cease her disturbing visits within his waking hours. He had even gone so far as to create a small picnic on her anniversary, filling it with produce that a young girl would appreciate such as strawberries, cream and rich sandwiches filled with the sweetest tasting Tennessee honey that money could buy.
The real reason he went there however was to clear his troubled mind and perhaps gain some valuable answers about her identity from an unseen higher power above, feeling that the gravesite was peaceful in a way and soothing to his weary mind. He also now strangely felt like he was part of a twisted loving companionship with the Lady of th
e Lake’s spectre and was willing to accept any form of companionship now since he had none in his life anymore.
The lonesome detective had not seen Poppy since their previous intimate encounter after the Torso Clinic meeting, causing him to clinically analyse every detail of their previous two romantic encounters in search of a fault which he could never find. After that evening he had tried to contact her yet again but she had actively avoided him at all costs, proving to be rather adept at not returning home for days on end and literally almost disappearing completely from the face of the earth. She had proven to be almost as elusive as the infamous Mad Butcher himself with her unusual hours and lack of stable routines but he had persisted this time and was adamant that he wished to continue with their relationship, even if it meant that it metamorphosed back into being just friends. He had yet again taken the initiative to try and see her on numerous occasions but, with her not being in the office anymore and also being away from home a lot, he could never seem to be able to get a hold of her.
After a few frantic weeks he had simply given up, not wishing to play some ridiculously childish game with his fragile heart. He determined that if she wished to see him again she would come to him and he was surprisingly content with that prospect and did not suspect that Ness was purposefully keeping her away from him this time, knowing that she was skilled enough in the art of deception to see him if she so chose too. He understood she was rare and untamed wild creature within the female form whom did as she pleased, when she pleased and was unrestrained when it came to following her erratic hearts whim. He did however suspect that after they had made love within the darkened Torso Clinic meeting room, and following his press corps meeting, she had irrationally followed her broken-heart back to Ness again and regretted their second intimate encounter.
This hurt him immensely every time he thought about his double rejection but he was also old enough to realise that she was a troubled and damaged young women whom followed her intuitive instincts since she was a child. These irrational instincts where what made her so uniquely special within this crazy world and even with all the macabre activities that the Mad Butcher was surrounding them in, she was still wholeheartedly following her fragile heart and he found this to be an endearing quality. Her heart was what had brought her up and through the difficult times of her unknown past and she still miraculously followed it blindly and willingly without question. Most people would suggest that she was immature but he was not most people and knew her better because to him she was a miraculous oddity, an eighth wonder of the world right there in their midst that still had fantastically managed to keep her faith. Faith in her ability to do the right thing, faith in trusting no one else but her damaged self and faith in believing that no matter how dark things became they would always ultimately get better again.
Merlyo knew he would always retain a soft spot for the lovely Miss Valentine but he also knew that in trying to tame such a wild creature as she would always be doomed in failure. This was because if you tried to tame her she would instinctively fight back, it was her psychological defence mechanism which was well versed in protecting its owner from the harsh realities of a troubled life. Ness had come to learn this in his own way when he had tried to manipulate her for his own ends and this harsh tactic had apparently ultimately failed. For Merlyo the true act of love, the true understanding of what love actually was, is that if you love someone then you should be able to set them free and he had done that not just for her but also for himself and his own aching heart’s wellbeing.
The second homicide earlier that year happened more recently on the 6th of June whereby a teenage boy had discovered a human skull under the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge. Next to the grim discovery was a burlap sack containing the skeletal remains of a petite African American women who was about forty years old. Her skull was neatly wrapped in a newspaper which was dated 5th June 1936, the very same date of the Tattooed Man’s discovery and most thought that the unknown deranged madman was playing yet more devilish mind games with the police. Dental records showed that the unknown woman’s teeth where a close match for the unofficial identification of a one Rose Wallace of Scovill Avenue and this was further confirmed by her son whom said he was certain that the victim was his own mother when he visited Gerber’s ghoulish morgue.
However exact identification could not be achieved because the dentist who carried out the work had died years before and there were some lingering doubts about her identification that remained. Gerber was never fully satisfied about her identification and reluctant to confirm her identity mainly because everything about this case reeked of misdirection and cunning manipulation, a manipulation by a fiendishly deviant intelligence of an unknown and shadowy origin. Also her body was estimated to have been deceased for a year whereas Wallace had only been missing for ten months which further made police strengthen their resolve to find evidence to confirm that it was actually her. Unfortunately however every lead they had on her apparently led nowhere and the only revelation that came from Rose Wallace’s untimely intrusion into the case was that she, Flo Polillo and Edward Andrassy all knew notorious Frank Dolezal. Dolezal’s name had a bad habit of now always popping up within the Mad Butcher investigation and many detectives where now starting to come around to the idea that he had something to do with the murders.
However all the detectives whom had interrogated him on numerous different occasions where almost all of the opinion that he was simply not capable of committing such crimes and did not fit the detailed Torso Clinic character profile. He had no medical skill whatsoever and certainly no place to dismember his victims without being noticed, not to mention he lacked the intelligence to commit such crimes and seemed to be more interested in drinking and brawling rather than murdering. The equally bad suspect of Michael Borich had recently been arrested by Trunk and the sheriff’s men after an early morning raid on a junk shop within the heart Kingsbury Run. Borich had been tentatively identified as the man from the artistic representation that everyone had seen at the Torso Clinic and after a brief chase whereby he had been caught by the overly aggressive Kilbane, he vigorously denied any involvement with the unsolved murders.
The cunning Trunk had the foresight to already inform the newspapers about his junkyard raid well in advance so that they could take numerous photographs of the struggling Borich when he was arrested but it turned out that he had an alibi for each of the murders and was as much of a famed drunken brawler as Dolezal was. Now there had been yet another murder and as the three lonesome men stood there within the mud and rain whilst the nearby unruly crowd constantly hurled abuse at them, the familiarly troubling feeling of defeatism began to overwhelm their separate thoughts.
The stubborn Ness had been adamant that he did not wish to trudge through the thick muddy riverbank to get to the site that could just be seen through the rains haze simply because it would ruin his beloved grey suit and his brand new shiny spectator shoes. So all three now had to endure the nearby unruly crowds fiery vengeance as they continually assaulted them with their angry tongues. The riverbank entrenched Gerber was wearing his distinctive white forensic overalls, gloves and round spectacles and he had been keen to emphasize the victim’s bad condition when he reported his initial findings back to them only a few moments ago. He had eagerly done this after he had rigorously examined the males separate dismembered body parts which were already now amassed in a large collection by the muddy riverbank.
The reporting Gerber had been keen to return to his quarry by the riverside once he saw the torso being placed there by a search diver and had departed again as soon after he had reported these findings, also not wishing to stand idly by because he was now also being subjected to verbal abuse from the protesting crowds. The riverbank was so wet with sludge and mud that only the brave Gerber in his protective overalls and the two daring divers, whom were protected in wetsuits, were willing to wade through the wall of muck to get to the dismembered body parts.
T
he Mad Butcher had apparently struck again at a very inconvenient time for the troubled Ness because of the labour disturbances and protests that where being fought within the Flats area of Kingsbury Run. The troubled safety director had attempted to lessen his obscene intake of both his beloved opium and alcohol in order to help him stay alert so that he could contain such social unrest. He was now however also highly irritable not just because of he had not taken his usual hit of the opioid drug but also because he was covertly keeping an ever watchful eye on his beloved silver Scarab which now resting nearby the underside of the bridge. It was quickly becoming the infrequent object of some of the protestor’s frustration and his obsessive eyes pained whenever he saw an egg or other rubbish being thrown defiantly down upon its shiny silver exterior. He was far more interested in this than he was in the homicide scene which was almost now invisible by the riverbank as the thick haze of rain seemed to consume all within its wake.
The dishevelled looking Ness looked thinner than usual and had pronounced bags under his tired eyes, as he if had not been sleeping for a considerable amount of time. His hair was a complete mess and he nervously bit his lower lips so much so that it was beginning to swell due to this constant physical manifestation of anxiety. Not only was his lessened drug and alcohol intake adding to his irritable mood but also the fact that he was having some serious problems within his personal life. Edna was no longer talking to him and would occasionally not see him at their lakeside home whilst Evaline was oblivious to his professional woes and appeared to be happy to just wine and dine the endless nights away.
Poppy appeared to be absent in mind during their numerous sexually charged encounters and behaved as if she had resigned herself to her unwanted role as mistress, strangely irritating the safety director and causing his mind to wander during their secret rendezvous. Ness now looked like he was a man whom was on the edge of sanity and even his most loyal thirty five handpicked officers, whom he lovingly referred to as his Unknowns, had all been told over the last week to try and keep their distance from this “Elegant Mess". Merlyo, Zalewski and Gerber where all part of his Unknown team but unfortunately for them, Ness had insisted upon being here himself in order to watch the numerous body parts being brought to the surface.
The Noir Evil Page 31