Chapter 42
Given its small size, Bratenahl has had more than its fair share of notable residents: the actress Margaret Hamilton, better known as the Wicked Witch of the West; James Salisbury, inventor of the Salisbury steak; Coburn Haskell, creator of the modern golf ball; a senator; a world-famous opera singer; and even a Kardashian and her basketball-star husband.
Eliot Ness too, legendary adversary of Al Capone, the one who sent America’s favorite mobster down for tax evasion. (There’s a strong lesson there about not leaving a paper trail, hey?)
The Torso Murderer was never caught, and if you ask me, it’s pretty clear that Ness failed because he abandoned the principles that had made his pursuit of Capone so successful.
Investigation takes patience. It takes a calm head and long-term surveillance—a slow chipping away rather than grand reckless gestures.
My father knew this: Do your digging, he used to say to his reporters, even if it’s through a huge pile of shit.
And I do, whether that means trolling through the furthest reaches of the internet (more results like these?
Yes please!) or listening to hours and hours of whining about piss-stained floorboards.
(That dog wouldn’t last five minutes in any house of mine.) I know more about Mack and Hailey Evans than they know about themselves, and I have my father to thank for that—and Mack’s father too, the dirty crook.