The Noir Evil

by Richard Paul Caird

  The soaking wet spectre of the Lady of the Lake sat there with its rotting flesh and vacant hollow eyes as it ominously starred at the resting detective through the mirror. She made no sound as the tired detective finally succumb to the beckoning sleep and her soaking wet hair floated around her in an unseen water of ethereal decay. Her putrid mouth was wide open in a fixated expression of a terrified scream that made no sound as she pointed out of the window towards the absent crowd that was behind a thick wall of white snow.

  The snow eventually parted to barley reveal the shadowy silhouettes of the pulsating crowd in the distance with the same large and motionless silhouette that was there from before, still apparently interested in the work of the searching police. Upon seeing this rare sight of the detective’s location, the large silhouettes head then slowly turned like an owl’s until two glints of ghostly white lights illuminated from its round spectacles and effortlessly penetrated through the unforgiving snow. It was as though its quarry was now once again sighted again and its focused gaze needed to be sated. The silently screaming Lady of the Lake then attempted to get the slumbering detective to wake up and made the radio come on again as the blanket of purifying snow shrouded them both from the sinister silhouettes’ unflinching gaze “Hahaha… Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men… The Shadow knows… Hahaha!”

  Eliot Ness satisfactorily overlooked the smoke filled hustle and bustle of the Cleveland police department office in quiet contemplation. The old office was the usual hectic mix of an unrelenting cacophony of incomprehensible sound along with rushing people growing from one location to another. The constant rustling of papers and telephone chatter where all music to his wanting ears as where the few angry criminals downstairs who were protesting their innocence whilst they were being booked into the awaiting cells. He marvelled at his own brilliance for creating such a well-functioning machine that was reminiscent of a living work of art that effortlessly pulsated before him.

  He then keenly focused upon the empty wooden chairs of the absent detective Merlyo and his partner whom had apparently appeared to have had a major breakthrough in the troublesome unsolved homicide cases. He then paged through his thick file of the latest victim whilst he stood by his office door and satisfactorily sipped on his freshly brewed coffee, marvelling at detective’s detailed writings. The wily detective and his ambitious young protégée had miraculously managed to identify the recent fourth homicide victim, even without finding her elusive dismembered head.

  They had both discovered that she was a forty two year old Irish national called Florence or ‘Flo’ Polillo whom was known commonly on the street by her nickname “Martin”. She was a waitress, bar maid and occasional prostitute and lived on East 42nd Street and Carnegie, right on the edge of the infamous Roaring Third area within the chaotic shantytowns of Kingsbury Run. Merlyo and Zalewski had both discovered from her fingerprints that she had been arrested a couple of times for prostitution in both Cleveland and Washington DC. The elusive killer had made a fateful error in judgment by allowing such a valuable sliver of information slip into the detective’s hands as these fingerprints were taken from her still attached arm.

  Ness paused and looked at Flo’s sole picture which was attached to the file with a paperclip and his first impressions where of a woman whom was not to be trifled with. She had raven black hair which was slightly greying and stylized in a windswept look upon her well-nourished and full face. Her dramatic hair was nicely accompanied by her black and white spotted dress top which she effortlessly filled out. She looked as though she was a tough women whom would have been trouble for any nefarious murderer to take down and he thought that the killer must have been a giant in order to kill such a behemoth of a feisty woman. Ness found it peculiar to think that the well-worn smiling face that was looking back at him from the photograph was now actually deceased, and in such a horrid manner. Even he had only skim read the grim details of the numerous gruesome homicides, preferring Gerber and his morgue associates to deal out the dreadful details to him orally, rather than fully experience them at the morgue in all there graphic nature.

  Both detectives had recently questioned her landlady, friends and acquaintances and a sad and sorry story eventually emerged from the willing group. Flo was a friendly and kind woman whom was liked by most people and her landlady had remarked that she had been very kind to her three daughters and even let them play regularly with her extensive doll collection. She was apparently so welcoming that she had even let the girls play within her own humbly modest rented room for hours at a time, enjoying the innocence of their youth which she had felt she had lost all too soon. Unfortunately she had a serious drinking problem and became aggressive when she had had too much and for whatever reason, she had drifted from one abusive relationship to another.

  The poor downtrodden Flo had eventually ending up on crutches with swollen, blackened eyes from the regular beatings that she had taken at the hands of her numerous abusive lovers. It had not always been that way and she had once had a decent husband whom, upon hearing the dreadful and tragic news of her untimely demise, had taken the time to drive all the way from Buffalo to Cleveland in order to give an official police statement. Andrew Polillo was a forty year old respectable man whom was employed as a mail handler for the United States postal system and they were married in the early 1920's. They stayed together for six years until Flo started to drink more often and ultimately left Andrew to "get herself straightened out"

  Unfortunately she had then drifted from one abusive man to another and resorted to temporary waitressing jobs and prostitution to order to earn a fragile and meagre existence deep within the harsh and unforgiving environment of Kingsbury Run. Her close associates were at the very bottom of society such as whorehouse madams, prostitutes, pimps and drug addicts but they all had one thing in common in that they all liked her and had nothing bad to say about her. Both detectives had gone into much detail to explain their finely tuned impressions about her companions whom had all stated that they were all truly shocked to find out how she had been murdered. All could not believe that such a happily lively and kind women such as Flo could have met such a tragically cruel fate.

  The meagre forensic evidence that was found upon her body parts was apparently just as silent as her close associates were upon the circumstances around her disappearance. None could recall where she had been or whom she was with on that fateful night of her death and this had shocked both the detectives, not being able to fully pinpoint her last whereabouts. They however did manage to trace the burlap bags in which her torso was found but nothing of value came from that avenue of investigation and, like the other three infamous unsolved homicides, the flurry of police activity surrounding her death soon died down as the clues and leads dried up.

  Ness pondered this as he satisfactorily placed the closed file under in his armpit and put a fresh piece of strawberry chewing gum into his warmly awaiting and salivating mouth. As he began to satisfactorily chew the gum he had a new feeling of optimism flowing over him as the strawberry flavours exploded within his wanting mouth. He had just pleasantly learnt from the competing detectives May and Musil that Merlyo had taken Zalewski a few hours ago, to interview a fifty two year old brick layer called Frank Dolezal. Dolezal had not only lived with Flo for a brief period of time within rented accommodation but had also apparently known one of the other victims, the defiantly troublesome Andrassy.

  Ness continued to chew his gum with relish as he looked at the two vacant wooden chairs of the absent detectives as this new sense of satisfaction which now utterly consumed him, literally sensing that this potentially damaging case was now all but solved. This immense satisfaction was magnified by the opium that he had taken with his favourite scotch only twenty minutes ago, solidifying his euphoric feelings of finality that was now all but guaranteed within the four homicide cases. He realised that his opium consumption was probably not the wisest of moves because he was expecting an importan
t meeting to begin any moment now with none other than congressman Sweeney but he had felt the need to relax himself due to the ongoing anxiety of both cleaning up the corruption within the department and modernising it.

  His relentless pursuit of the rogue elements within the department was made more complicated when recently both the mayor and congressman where inundated with requests from the local newspapers, such as the Cleveland Press, News and Plain Dealer, about his progress within the areas of the departments anticorruption, modernisation as well as the unsolved homicide cases. Ness was beginning to feel uncomfortable due to the pressure that was being exerted upon him by both the mayor and congressman to solve these ghastly crimes and that is why he put his best detectives on the case full time. He had enough to deal with currently without getting an additional headache from some maniac running around Kingsbury Run and dismembering people. This was a problem that he wanted fixed as soon as possible and now, knowing that Merlyo and his partner where interviewing a viable suspect, soothed the ex-prohibition agent’s troubled mind.

  Ness chewed his delicious gum and felt justified in putting them both on the case with these recent turn of fortunate events, such as the identification of two of the four victims and now this possibly viable suspect. He stood there with his arms crossed as a wave of self-satisfaction and victory swept over him like a comforting blanket, knowing that the case was all but solved and knowing that he would have his “red meat” to give to the all-consuming congressman in there imminent meeting. He closed his eyes and rolled them in pleasure as the nearby office fan gently blew refreshing air across his hypersensitive face with a wave of soothing delight as the opium flowed deeply through his eagerly awaiting system.

  He took some deep breaths in and forced the heavenly opioid nectar secretively around his body in the rivers of pulsating blood that transported it before turning to look back at his office door in pride. As he did so his eyes met the angry, glaring gaze of Poppy from above her typewriter as she silently reprimanded him for his current mental state. He attempted to ignore her uncomfortable gaze of disappointment at his continued use of the opioid drug and remained looking at the title upon his door with pride, undaunted whilst he awaited the imminent arrival of the congressman. Poppy had a keen eye and could spot his drug use from his dilated pupils, unfocused gaze, unsteady feet and blasé behaviour and although he realised she was in pain, he thought that she simply did not have any conception about the immense pressures that he was under. Ness then looked back into the office and disposed of his gum upon Flo’s file cover, smirking whilst he stuck it on and saying to himself “Case closed!”

  He then placed the file on a nearby desk and leaned back against his wooden and glass office door, adamant that the troublesome homicide cases would be resolved today which would leave him with one less problem to contend with. A few blissful moments later he heard two loud voices talking as they came up the steps and soon congressman Sweeney finally made his appearance known. The large Cuban cigar smoking Sweeney was accompanied by the slightly larger and more obese detective Trunk, whom jokingly laughed as they ascended to the top of the staircase.

  Poppy briskly walked past the continually smirking Ness and gave him an angry leering look before she turned and warmly greeted the congressman. She then brought him and the closely following Trunk to the oddly smiling Ness, whom was only now forcing himself not to lean upon the wall for balance when faced with the congressman directly. The congressman then gave his almost finished Cuban cigar to Trunk to finish off as he took out another one from his golden cigar case, chopped off its end using a golden cigar cutter before placing it back within his upper jacket pocket and knowingly showing his immense familiarity with the finer things in life. Ness looked at the congressman and appeared to take in more detail about his physical appearance than he had initially done when he had first arrived at the department. He put this down to the immense overuse of the opium that initial night, his panic attack and also the disturbing nightmare that he had on the train here prior to their meeting, clouding his mind and making him see the congressman in a better light than he did now.

  Congressman Sweeney was a force to be reckoned with because he was larger than average man in every department, his hair was ice cold grey and had the effect of illuminating his steely blue eyes that pierced anyone he was looking at with a feeling of authoritarian lore. He had an apparent permeant grimace upon his scowl like face until he spoke which caused it to instantly vanish and change into a warm fatherly expression, which Ness thought was rather extraordinary but put it down to his well-trained years as a politician and skilled art of deception. His ears where slightly bigger than normal and sat awkwardly on his head but they did not detract from his aura of menacing seriousness that effortlessly came from his face. Ness amusingly speculated to himself on more than one occasion that he required these large ears listen in on his numerous political opponents on Capitol Hill.

  He had two moles upon his left cheek which he tried to hide unsuccessfully with makeup and his long nose was obviously a sign of lying, like Pinocchio and was most likely used for snooping around, according to his own immature and opioid fuelled deductions. His grey hair naturally expressed an unjustly given wisdom but Ness believed it expressed something rather more insidious or sinister judging from his chosen profession. He was always immaculately dressed in his expensive black, pinstripe three piece suit which was pleasantly accompanied by his striking gold tie that accentuated his steely, uncomfortable gaze. The inner lining of the suit was a striking red which every now and then sneakily revealed itself to the keenly observant eye and his golden, diamond laden cufflinks dazzled in the office lights and emphasized the expense and lengths he would go to express his unspoken wealth. His freshly polished spectator shoes gleamed like lighthouse beckons and demanded recognition from all for their obvious superiority.

  The accompanying detective Trunk had followed him closely and Ness could see that the overweight detective was still casually joking with Sweeney, as if they had been good friends all their lives. He secretly speculated that the origami obsessed detective wanted the rest of the office to see how close he was to the echelons of power and as he speculated about his motives for this, these momentary speculations were interrupted as he noticed that Trunk was unfortunately casually creating yet another one of his famous origami creatures within his cumbersome hands. The now terribly overweight Trunk was a contrast in appearance to his master because he always wore an unbecoming light brown three piece suit without the jacket, unwittingly emphasizing his large belly as it begged to be released from his bulging waistcoat.

  His light yellow shirt sleeves where always rolled up so he could artistically create one of his origami creations that had long ago filled his desk. His hair was sleeked back and made him look younger than he actually was, endearing him to many female admirers at Wohl’s café on the odd occasion he was seen there. He wore glasses on occasions which gave the lumbering man an unwarranted scholarly look, further adding to his noted deceptive personality. Ness then warmly greeted Sweeney in an uplifting manner whilst shaking his large hand, attempting to eliminate the distain that he felt he was unwittingly expressing upon his face “Hello congressman! It’s a pleasure to see you again sir, please come into my office, I’ll have Miss Valentine brew us up some of her finest coffee!”

  But before Ness could motion to the awaiting Poppy, Sweeney interrupted him “No thanks Ness, I won’t be here that long. I have some other pressing engagements that I have to attend too after this and I’m running a little bit late so let’s proceed shall we” A stern looking Sweeney then swiftly walked past him and into his awaiting office whilst a menacingly smiling Trunk continued to eagerly create his latest origami masterpiece whilst going back to towards his cluttered desk. Poppy then gave Ness another look of disgust before she returned to her own desk but he attempted to ignore her whilst he hastily followed Sweeney into his office. He then closed the door behind him whilst gesturing fo
r Sweeney to take a seat whilst he himself sat down, still attempting to eliminate Poppy’s uncomfortable gaze from his opioid fuelled mind. Ordinarily he would have taken slight offence to the congressman’s ill manners but in his current mental state he would allow this rudeness to dissipate, along with his limited and fleeting concentration.

  Ness’s looked at Sweeney with a hidden distain as his own arrogance was now even more swollen due to the unperceived drugs that now liberally flowed deeply throughout his system. His beckoning brain eagerly awaited every milligram of that precious nectar as he covertly calculated how he had legally obtained such large quantities of the opioid drug. He marvelled at his cunning superior intelligence because he simply went to a variety of selected private doctors, whose clinics littered the city and told them all the same sob story. He stated on many separate occasions that he had a terrible fear of flying and mentioned other numerous social anxieties that his newly acquired and prestigious job required him to do.

  One of these other anxieties was over his public speaking role which he would elaborate on with much detail to maximise the effect of sympathy that all the private doctors gave him. They were all were willing to prescribe him the blessed medication not only due to this elaborate fabrications but also because he had a natural aura of respectability about his person. He also even had a small selection of close doctor friends who he had met at a variety of social events whom where more than willing to give his celebrity more opium prescriptions simply upon his request. This tenderly nurtured this successful secret supply network that spread throughout the city like an octopuses tentacles and he delighted in thinking of the line-up of doctors that gave him whatever he desired, when he desired it.