My daughter’s eyes were wide, frightened.
“You’ll be okay, Molly.” My tone was shrill and rushed.
“Quite a fighter, this one, but you are an inherently scrappy people.” He tightened his grip as Molly struggled to break free. “I should have used a stronger dose. Pity how difficult it has become to subdue even a child.”
“What did you do to her, you son of a bitch?”
“Profanity, Mr. Coleman, is the effort of a weak mind to express itself. No need to worry; she inhaled a simple mixture of chloroform, diazepam, and a few of my special ingredients. I don’t expect that you’d comprehend the chemistry. A different formula was blended with your dear friend’s Kessler’s, by the way. I do expect that my concoction actually improved the taste.”
“If you hurt her, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
He made a raspy chuckling sound. “I don’t fear God, and I surely don’t fear you.”
“Just let her go, please.”
“Threats, then begging. The usual course. Next, you’ll offer to exchange yourself for her.”
“You said that you’d let me live. I can’t live without her. No one will know about this. Just walk away.”
He cackled. “In fact, my promise was for a long and miserable life, which you will surely have when I terminate the existence of your precious daughter.”
With Molly gone, I’d follow in my father’s footsteps. My daughter could not die. Bernie needed to come racing around the bend, Jack had to come back from the dead. “I called the police.”
“Of course you did, Mr. Coleman. Everyone has a cell phone these days. That device would have complicated things for me when I tormented poor Mr. Ness. But we’ll have time.”
“Just give her to me. You can still get away, the van—”
“How delicious.” He shifted his grip on Molly, and she grimaced as his forearm wrenched her neck. “But getting away was never my plan.” Whatever he intended, I had to stop him. I stepped forward. “Damn you, let her go.”
“Or what? Are you going to charge me, mount an heroic bid to rescue her? I can snap her neck before you take a step.”
“She doesn’t deserve this.”
“I’ve seen the shattered parents before, you know. The child who disappears at the communal swimming pool. The one who vanishes from the shopping mall. Those people never recover—you lost your daughter on your watch, Mr. Coleman. Live with that.”
“She had nothing to do with the Butcher. That was me.”
“But it’s only fair—a daughter for a daughter. A wonderful symmetry, won’t you agree?”
He stepped back, dragging Molly with him, toward a nearby break in the trees. I followed, gradually narrowing the distance. A numbing wind lashed in from the lake and chilled the air. Molly tried to wrench free, but Torso’s grip never budged as he kept shuffling backward to the jagged bluff. Yet his breathing was labored; the exertion was taking a toll.
“With my son and daughter gone, what do I care anymore? The day has come to end my grand game, Mr. Coleman, and with my usual dramatic flair. Think about it: hurling myself into the lake with my final victim cradled in my arms, all while her loving father watches.”
He was no more than ten feet from the precipice. I had lived near that shoreline my entire life and witnessed maelstroms buffet forty-foot powerboats, toss sailing dinghies and catamarans about like flotsam. There was no chance that Molly would survive a fall into the waves that hammered relentlessly into a shoreline of jagged rocks.
“The game ends on my terms. Delicious.” Torso took another backward step toward the promontory. His voice had weakened; I had trouble hearing him over the wind and the waves. He stepped on a fallen branch and nearly stumbled.
Molly reacted immediately, thrusting an elbow into his stomach and twisting, ducking under his arm. His big mitt pawed the air, and he lurched after her as she darted away. I plunged forward, dropping my head and ramming my shoulder into his waist. My arms locked around his legs. Drive, drive, drive. Torso pummeled me in the back, but I would not quit. My legs churned. This was for Molly and Cathy, Jack, me, my father. And for the 108 human beings Torso had slaughtered. The game would not end on his terms.
At the lip of the cliff face, his great body tottered. I dropped to the ground and jerked his feet toward me. As he tumbled backward, I released my grip and rolled away. I rose to my knees and watched his long arms whirl, those tender eyes gleaming in disbelief as he toppled over the edge. I stood and stumbled to the edge of the precipice, catching a glimpse of the Torso Murderer as he plummeted into the churning, white-capped swell far below.
Then my Molly was there, running to me, and I swept her into my arms. She was weeping, clutching me, shivering from the cold. Looking up, the chill rain striking my face, I held her to me and thanked God.
52
“I’m here because Cathy asked, okay?” Bernie faced me across the coffee table, reminding me of the day we’d read Torso’s letter about Jack. “Molly’s beggin’ her to give you one more chance. Cathy’s willing, but not if it’s gonna be a waste of time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pretty simple, John.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “She won’t take a chance about your drinking. I’ve gotten other guys into a program, so she wants me to talk to you.”
“I haven’t had a drink since my acquittal. Cathy knows that.”
“She’s pulling for you, John, we all are. But … we’ve been around the block before, know people who’ve quit, then fallen back into it. She doesn’t wanna get burned, understand?”
I pictured myself sitting on a folding chair in a church basement, raising my hand and telling my story to an earnest circle of strangers. “It’s a big step, Bernie.”
He extended his arms. “You kiddin’ me? Do you want to grow old with or without your little girl? Easy choice, isn’t it?”
I glanced around the room, remembering when Molly and Cathy had been with me. “I’m not denying that I went overboard, plenty of times. But—”
“The fact is that the booze makes you do shit like wind up with Jennifer Browning. You never could handle it. Even back in high school, some of the stuff you’d come up with when you were drunk. Jesus.” He grinned and wagged a finger at me. “Like that bullshit about balling Ellen O’Donnell.”
I was aware that my mouth popped open. “You knew?”
He chuckled. “Look, you’re a great guy when you’re sober. Stay that way. I know a good group, can set you up with a sponsor.”
I glanced from the figurines to the Bible to the cross mounted on the wall. If that’s what Cathy wanted, and it would keep Molly in my life, it was a small price to pay. “Let’s talk.”
“Good decision.”
I focused on my hazy reflection in the glass top of the coffee table. “What about … hell, I’ll sleep better when they find the bastard.”
“It’s been two days. He’ll wash up, no doubt about it, or some fisherman will run over him. A floater, with his eyeballs nibbled away by the fish. Serves him right.”
“Any clues in the van?”
“ID number was ground off. Duct tape and ties in the back, a couple of blankets.” Bernie interlocked his fingers and leaned forward. “Some knives, too. And a hacksaw. My guess is he had other plans for Molly, if you didn’t get there when you did.”
“You shoulda seen her, Bernie. She never quit. A fighter, he called her.”
“I always said she had the balls in the family. Well, her and Cathy.”
“Fuck you.” I couldn’t help but smile. This was Bernie, my friend.
He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “What, you worried he’s still alive and people will stop treatin’ you like some kind of hero?”
I grinned. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”
“So you knocked a hundred-year-old guy off a cliff. You want a medal?”
“Anyone gets a medal, it’s Molly.”
“No argument. C’mon, let’s grab lun
ch. I’m buyin’.” He walked pointedly toward the door and turned to face me. “For the record, I did nail Ellen O’Donnell, senior year, after the South High game.”
The son of a bitch laughed aloud, and I followed him outside, bracing myself for one hell of a lecture.
EPILOGUE
Bernie told me that a couple of hikers found a charred body in the desert outside of Nogales, Arizona. The lower half of the face had been chopped off, and the body was too badly burned and decomposed to be identified. The dimensions, however, matched Jennifer’s build. Maybe the Andar Feo had concluded that she was too much of a potential liability and solved the problem with some knife work and a can of gasoline.
Or maybe Jennifer was sunning on a tropical island, sipping strawberry daiquiris as a bevy of tanned and strapping young men attends to her every need. Sometimes, the thought of that possibility makes me jump whenever the phone rings.
As for me, my license was suspended, but I did find work as a paralegal with a large law firm. I answer to a crew of very accomplished lawyers, many half my age. No complaints, though, because my license will be restored if I stay out of trouble. I’ve talked to Marilyn, who says the guy she now works for is a stiff who doesn’t even comment on her earrings. She’ll sign on again with John R. Coleman, Attorney at Law, in a flash.
Cathy and I are dating, regularly. I’ve been sober for months, and we are even talking about remarrying. Molly is back in my life on a regular, frequent basis. For them, I’m keeping every promise that I made and doing Jack proud. This time, I made the right choice.
And the Torso Murderer?
They never did find his body.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The most difficult part about writing an acknowledgment is the regrettable fact that I will fail to name everyone who encouraged me over the years. There are, however, certain people whose unflagging support is particularly memorable.
First and foremost, my wife, Linda, was always willing to be my sounding board, sage critic, and constant source of encouragement. Without her, there would be no novel. My good friend and judge, the Honorable Dick Ambrose, provided an invaluable step-by-step account of the intricacies of a murder case. David and Carol Rollins, Alex and Kathy Hahn, Sean Halicanin, Lynn Larson, John Schiller, and Molly Schroeder all digested early drafts and offered thoughtful suggestions for revisions. Mary Ellen French faithfully read every draft and was generous with her editorial skills and ideas. Last but not least, the real-life John Coleman, my longtime friend, shared with me what it was like growing up in Cleveland as a member of the terrific Irish community. John has little in common with the troubled character in my book!
And a heartfelt thanks to everyone else along the way—teachers, editors, authors, Roop & Co., Greenleaf Book Group, Mad Jackal Media, friends, and family—who shared of their time, talent, and experience to make this novel a reality.
READING GUIDE
1. John continually insists that he has his emotions under control and does not need to seek assistance. As the killings continue, this becomes less and less true. What is the breaking point for John? When did he need to seek help? In this context, discuss his relationship with Jack Corrigan.
2. Was John truly only interested in Jennifer’s well-being before her betrayal, or did he have ulterior motives from the beginning?
3. Discuss the dynamics of John and Cathy’s relationship. Was their separation inevitable? Was Jennifer just a catalyst to John pulling away from his family? Would they have even still been together if they didn’t have a child?
4. What was your process of elimination for suspects in Frank’s death? Who did you think did it and why? What cleared others of suspicion?
5. How does John’s alcoholism fuel his need to be involved in the case?
6. Molly seems to be the biggest hit to John’s conscience. Discuss her role in his life. Does he use her as a way of reminding himself what he is throwing away with his reckless actions? It doesn’t seem to be enough to actually stop him from making bad choices. Does he worry about the impact on his relationship with her? Does he think to himself, I have to think about Molly because that is what he “should” be thinking?
7. Did the identity of any killer come as a shock? Did you find any clues leading to their identity?
8. Is John responsible for what happens to him? Do you think the Butcher was always going to come for him no matter what steps he took to avoid her or go after the truth?
9. What is the more important or compelling storyline: the Butcher, the circumstances of Frank’s death, or the Torso Murderer’s quest for vengeance?
10. Does John deserve a second chance with his family?
11. What are John’s biggest shortcomings and how do they influence the plot?
12. Whether he listens to their advice or not, many characters have great impact on John’s life and decisions. Discuss which characters have the most impact on John and the plot. Why does he value relationships with individuals like Bernie Salvatore and Jack Corrigan?
13. Family relationships are a prevalent idea explored throughout the novel. How is this shown and how does it work into the plot?
14. What are some other main themes present in the story? How do they come through?
15. Did the Torso Murderer survive? Will he come back to finish what he started? Why or why not?
AUTHOR Q&A
Was any part of this story based on actual events?
Yes, the entire story line involving the Torso Murderer and Eliot Ness actually occurred. The depiction of those events in The Company of Demons is historically accurate.
What kind of research did you do to prepare for this novel?
I read nonfiction sources on the Torso Murderer, reviewed contemporary newspaper accounts, and researched psychological studies of serial killers. I also reviewed manuscript details with a detective, a judge, and several attorneys regarding police procedural matters, defense and prosecutorial practices, and jury issues in murder trial cases.
Who is your favorite character?
John Coleman. Few things are more gratifying than watching a deeply flawed character confront his weaknesses and, ultimately, become a better person.
What is your writing process like?
I like to devote several hours at a time to focus on a new chapter or chapters. Typically, I’ll then set those chapters aside and review and revise earlier sections of the manuscript. I have found that revisions are stronger if material rests for a while and is then approached with a fresh perspective.
Aside from the tertiary killer, the Torso Murderer, the main criminals in your story are women. Was this a conscious choice?
Yes. I developed the Butcher’s character as a woman precisely because female serial killers are rare. Further, my choice was driven by an interesting twist in the investigation of the Torso Murderer. When Cleveland police visited the site of a similar killing in Pennsylvania, they learned that the imprint of a woman’s high heel shoe was found in the blood. But I balanced the dark characters of the Butcher/Jennifer against the strong female roles of Cathy, Arlene, and even Molly. Given John’s character, I felt that his relationships with the various women who impacted his life helped drive the story.
What is the hardest thing about writing a thriller?
Finding the right pace for the story—one that will keep the reader engaged, but not exhausted. The reader needs the opportunity to digest what has happened, consider the clues as to what might happen next, and wonder how the characters will respond to developments in the plot.
What was your favorite scene to write?
The basement scene, when the Butcher has John totally helpless and he must reflect on his conduct, the consequences, and how high the personal price has been.
Where did you find inspiration for your story?
I found the real-life murders by the Torso Murderer fascinating. The fact that he eluded Eliot Ness and then disappeared without a trace is gripping history. I asked the simple question: What
if he is still lurking out there and, someday, returned?
How has your real-world legal experience helped you in your writing process?
It was invaluable, because I am familiar with the complex relationships between clients, attorneys, and judges. I have also personally conducted several jury trials and understand the dynamics of a courtroom.
Mysteries and thrillers often reach the climax with the revelation of the killer. Here, you’ve revealed the Butcher in the middle and revealed the presence of another killer to continue the story. It’s a refreshing twist on the classic plotline. What made you write it this way?
History was my motivation. The fact that the Torso Murderer terrorized a major urban area for years, and then simply vanished, is fascinating. I could not ruin that historical reality by making up an identity. Far better, I believe, for the reader to wonder: Who was the Torso Murderer? That same question has perplexed law enforcement officials and amateur sleuths for years.
What are you working on now?
My next project is a WWII thriller set in the United States involving a plot by highly skilled Axis agents to sabotage projects that are critical to the war effort.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael Jordan obtained his undergraduate degree from Ohio Wesleyan University with highest honors and his law degree from George Washington University, where he was a member of the Law Review. A trial lawyer and arbitrator for over three decades, he has been recognized as an Ohio Super Lawyer® and named to Best Lawyers in America®. The Company of Demons is his first novel.
A native of Saginaw, Michigan, Michael and his wife, Linda Gross Brown, a soft pastel artist, divide their time between homes in Rocky River, Ohio, and Longboat Key, Florida. They enjoy traveling, pleasure boating, and very cold martinis.
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