It looks from the newspaper this morning that Eliot Ness is starting to make himself very unpopular with an important segment of the population. And who better to point that out so publicly than my dear cousin Michael. It gives me such pleasure to see the two of them battle it out in the newspaper.

Yesterday, Ness sent hundreds of cops with tear gas and clubs to break up the labor riots between the AFL and the CIO. The cops just made everything worse. Some twenty-five people were hurt.

I can understand why Michael is so upset. First, it leaks out that Ness has an undercover investigation of union leaders underway. And now, he sends in his cops to protect the scabs while they go through the picket line during the strike. Not a popular stand in a blue collar city like this.

With the strike and the labor riots, it looks like nobody is interested in my work any more. There was only one small story in each paper when they found the bones of that colored whore I killed last year.

It depresses me to live in Eliot Ness's shadow. He can put his foot down on me and virtually stamp out the knowledge that I exist. But, he can't keep the lid on the press forever. Even he doesn't have that much power. I'd love to give him another body to worry about, just when so many people are against him because of what he's trying to do to the unions. But I'm not going to endanger myself in the process.

With what the police already know about me, I must be on their list of star suspects. My temper, my drinking, my surgical ability, and my closeness to Kingsbury Run must be documented somewhere. As dumb as the cops have proven themselves to be, I can't count on that lasting forever. I don't dare get them anymore interested in me than they all ready are.

What a night this has been. It's almost three o'clock and I'm too wound up to sleep even though I'm physically exhausted. Much too much activity to fit into such a short space of time. I don't have the same luxury of time I used to.

I feel sure I have completely outsmarted the police once again. The idea came to me Wednesday afternoon. I called the Soldier and Sailors Home in Sandusky and told them I needed to come in for some help with my drinking. I put a note on my office door for my patients to call Driscoll if there were any medical emergencies, then I talked to Driscoll and got things square with him.

I put some whiskey and cigarettes and clothes in my car and drove out to Sandusky. Before I went to the hospital, I pulled off the side of the road and drank almost a third of a bottle. When I got to the admissions officer, he had no trouble believing I was drunk.

So they put me in a room with a couple of other veterans and sent in a doctor to look at me. The treatment consists of an hour of counseling every few days for as long as you can stand to be there. Generally, I'm free to do whatever I want for most of the day. They really don't pay much attention.

I spent the rest of the week relaxing and thinking, talking and playing cards with the other guys. I just marked my time until the weekend.

Weekends are a real madhouse out there, especially with the Fourth of July coming up. That's when all the wives and mothers and kiddies come to visit. Nobody noticed this afternoon when I slipped into my car and drove away. When I got to Cleveland, it was almost eight-thirty.

I parked the car on West 25th Street and started to scout around the hillbilly bars near the West Side Market. I selected this part of town because nobody knows me on the West Side. I can't afford to make any mistakes this time.

I talked to several people before I found the right guy. He was by himself and had just come in yesterday from southern Ohio to look for work. He didn't know anybody and slept in a flophouse last night. Around eleven, I told him he could spend the night in my office and save the little money he had. He was real happy to come with me.

When we got back to my office, I parked in the back. As I expected, the building was dark with the exception of the one light they keep on in the first floor hallway. We went in the back entrance and up to my office.

I tried my damnedest not to rush it. It takes away from my pleasure when I do, but I couldn't help looking at my watch and thinking about everything I still had to do tonight. Damn me for being so compulsive, but time is not on my side anymore.

He was an easy one. Almost as easy as that last whore. Not very big or very strong. He was so relaxed around me. So effusively grateful for my hospitality. I caught him completely off guard.

It was all over around twelve-thirty. I allowed myself fifteen minutes to have a drink and a cigarette before I got to work on him. This time, I planned things a little differently. I threw Dr. Gerber a few curves that I hoped would start to reshape his thinking about the killer being a doctor.

The head I did with my usual finesse. That is my trademark. I wanted Gerber to know it was me and not some copycat. The rest of him I just hacked up like some amateur. The work went much faster when I didn't take my usual care.

Then I did something I haven't done before. I got the idea from reading what the papers published on Jack the Ripper. I cut open his abdomen and chest and took out all his organs, including his heart. That ought to give the papers something to write about.

I quickly wrapped up his body in newspaper and put him in several burlap bags. I put the bags in the trunk of my car and drove down to a deserted part of the Flats, right near the river. Before I dumped him in, I opened the bags up, all except the one with his head. I want him to be found in the next few days while I'm still out in Sandusky.

My god, I am so glad to be back from Sandusky. I hate living with a bunch of other guys, especially the ones that are a little crazy. I don't know how I ever made it through the war. Of course, there wasn't much choice then. I can only take being around other people for a few hours a day, then I need to have some privacy, some quiet. Living with those guys twenty-four hours a day, listening to their awful jokes and old stories hour after hour and I start to unravel.

Yesterday I was in a really evil mood. That sniveling little insect in the bed next to me just couldn't keep his mouth shut. I warned him to lay off, but he didn't, so I belted him. I really belted him. He went off crying about it to the administration.

I figured it was time to leave. I stayed there long enough to give myself a pretty convincing alibi. The Sandusky papers said they started to find parts of the body in Cleveland on Tuesday. Good thing, because I don't think I could have put up with being out there much longer.

When I got back to my office, I went through the Plain Dealer and the Press looking for articles on my latest work. There wasn't anything today in the whole Plain Dealer and just a small article in the Press. I went down to the basement of the building where the papers are stored before the trash man picks them up. I found the papers for the past three days and took them up to the office to read.

On Tuesday, the day they found parts of his body, the afternoon paper had the story on the front page. I shared the top headlines with the reopening of the steel mills and the three thousand troops that had been called in to keep peace with the unions. On Wednesday, there was just a small front page article in the morning Plain Dealer, very muted in its tone. The afternoon Press also had a small article. Yesterday, two days after the body was found, there wasn't a goddamned thing in the Press and only a tiny mention on page four in the Plain Dealer!

I am absolutely amazed that Ness has enough power to suppress the news coverage for three deaths. I could understand how the papers might go along with it last winter with that one prostitute. Then when they found the skeleton of that colored whore, there was almost nothing in the papers about it. Now, another body and there are only a few stories, most of which are very small. I'm so pissed off.

I stopped off at Porfello's tonight to have a drink with the guys. Dennis asked where I'd been. I told them that I had to cut back on my boozing and had gone out of town for the "cure."

Jack looked relieved when I told him I'd been away. I'm sure that by now those other detectives had talked with him about me. Think how embarrassing it would be for a cop to have one of his drinking buddies be a prime suspect. What a joke! The Mad Butcher drinks a couple of nights a week with the lads from the Third Precinct. Assuming that my luck holds out, Jack and Dennis won't ever have to suffer with that irony.

I asked Jack how things were progressing on the case. He said the whole department was demoralized about it. He wondered if it would ever be solved. Every lead they had went nowhere.

Dennis thought one day the killings would just stop just as suddenly as they started and nobody would ever know who did it or why. That's what happened with Jack the Ripper. Hanley didn't agree. He said that the killer was sure to slip up eventually and get caught.

That's what really worries me. I've been so lucky this far. I can't really expect that luck to go on forever, especially since the police have already suspected me. Suppose that they figure out what I did in Sandusky. Even if they can't prove it, they could have me followed for the next ten years.

It's time I started looking at this realistically. I've lulled myself into believing that the cops are too stupid to catch me. While that's certainly true of many of the ones I've met, it's not true of all of them. Jack isn't stupid, nor is Dennis. It only takes one smart cop to catch me.

Once the police have a list of suspects, they don't have to be geniuses just to follow the suspects until the next killing happens. Then they either have the right list of suspects or they don't.

I think it's time I put an end to this little adventure while I'm still winning. There's nothing more for me to gain in continuing, and everything to lose. Not that I haven't enjoyed all the attention and the publicity that I used to get, not to mention outsmarting the boy hero and his whole police department. But all of that is wearing thin. I'm getting really bored. I don't even get the publicity any more.

I've got to find some other way of nourishing this big ego of mine. Shit! If I'd put a fraction of the thought and energy into my practice that I have put into making asses out of the police department, I'd be a wealthy man now. I wouldn't have had as much fun, but at least I'd have something tangible to show for my efforts.

Someday when I'm on my deathbed or too old to be prosecuted, I'm going to send my journals to the newspaper. I deserve some recognition for accomplishing what I have. Not only have I committed the perfect crime right under the nose of the nation's greatest crimefighter, but I've done it over and over again.

I'm glad that I made the decision to quit. This game has become much too dangerous for me. Those two detectives that came to see me back in March came by again this morning. The police are getting too close.

As I should have expected, they had a whole load of questions about where I was and what I was doing last weekend. They looked a little disappointed that I'd been out of town. I wonder what they would do if I said I'd been here in Cleveland. Well, this was their last chance. If they don't get me this time, there won't be another.

Early this afternoon, Michael called and invited me to dinner this evening at his home. Kathleen told him that I was back from my treatment in Sandusky. I wasn't wild about going over there, but I didn't have much in the way of excuses not to go.

Michael still lives in the old neighborhood in Uncle Dominic's house. I really love that area with its quiet shady streets and big old oak trees. It never changes. It's the same now as it was when I was a kid.

When I went up the walk to the front porch, Donna ran down to meet me. She threw her arms around me and gave me such a hug. My god, how she's grown. I hadn't seen her since Timmy O'Shea's funeral. Pretty young face with freckles and Sheila's features.

Sheila seemed really glad to see me. She's always liked me. It's the rogue in me that appeals to her. I'm like her father was, rest his wild soul. I was always surprised that she married someone as straight-laced and sober as Michael, when she came from such a fun-loving family. If I had been old enough, I would have married her in a heartbeat. Some spirited combination that would have been.

We went to the back yard where Michael and Mike Jr. were cutting the grass. I grabbed a rake and helped with the clippings. Lord knows how I need the exercise. I just love doing little chores like that around other people's homes, but I couldn't stand taking care of the yard when Louise and I were living together.

When we finished, Donna brought us out some ice tea and we sat there in the back yard. It was so quiet and peaceful there among the hedges and the hydrangea. I felt like I could have sat right in that spot for the rest of my life. The warm sunshine, the sweet fragrance of the rose bushes, it was as though time had stopped. It took me back twenty years ago when Dominic was still alive and we used to come over here for picnics and birthdays.

I can understand exactly why Michael still lives here even though he could afford a much newer and bigger home. It's that quiet continuity with the past. How I envy him that past and his present.

A little while later, Sheila and Donna set the picnic table and we had fried chicken and potato salad. The kids sat with us through the whole meal and then went off to play in the house and the yard. Donna put Gordon, the baby, to bed. Michael is so lucky to have the family that he does. A wonderful wife and really nice kids. I wish to hell I'd been born with his luck.

I asked Michael about the mayoral race. I assumed he decided not to run this year, since I had read that someone named McWilliams had the party backing. It didn't seem to bother Michael that he wasn't running. He was contented to campaign like crazy for McWilliams, to bring out the blue collar vote. He said if McWilliams didn't make it this time, maybe he'd run in the 1939 election. Michael was pretty confident about McWilliams winning since Burton and Ness had made such a mess of the labor situation. When Burton called in the Ohio National Guard with their bayonets and tear gas grenades during the strike, he kissed that blue collar vote goodbye forever.

After dinner, when Sheila was in the kitchen and it was just Michael and I alone, he asked me how I was really doing. I told him things were fine, but I know he sees through it. After all, for the past few years, I've been living in my office like a hermit with a bottle of whiskey. How great can things be? Especially when he is comparing my life with his own.

He asked me if there was anything at all he could do to help me. Money. Connections. He knows that there is a gulf between us. His hand outstretched is to help pull me over. It's my hand that's not reaching out to him. I'm afraid that there's no going back to the life of Michael and Sheila for me. I have gone past the limits of their understanding and forgiveness.

The weather was so magnificent today I couldn't bear the idea of sitting in my office alone. I called Kathleen and asked her if she and Ann wanted to go for a ride after church. She put together a picnic lunch and I picked them up around eleven-thirty.

We headed east into Hunting Valley and Chagrin Falls. I followed the Chagrin River Road into the splendid rolling meadows out there, dotted with patches of woods. This lovely spot is where the very wealthy build their country homes and raise their thoroughbred horses. Over the freshly painted white fences we could see the horses grazing in the sunshine.

Ann's eyes really lighted up. I don't think she's ever been out there. Billy's just not the kind to take his family out for rides in the country. She was thrilled to see the horses, so I pulled off to the side of the road by the river. Across the road, the horses came over to the fence to see us. There was a sleek brown mare and its new foal. I've never seen Ann so happy as she was when she was feeding some apples to those horses. Kids can be so delighted by such simple pleasures.

While Ann played with the horses, Kathleen and I sat on a blanket by the river's edge. It was the kind of summer day you never want to end. A soft warm breeze kept it from being too hot. The air out there in the country is so clean and fresh. Such a change from the smoky, sulfurous fumes of the city. I felt completely rejuvenated.

How wonderful it must be to live out there and come home every night to the quiet of the countryside. I could have had a home out there if things had gone differently. A place where my boys would grow up learning to ride horses and where Kathleen and Ann could come for the weekend to get away from their dismal little house.

I'm so fed up with things the way they are now, coming back here night after night to this empty office. I've just got to stop living this way. God knows I've got the brains to do anything I want. I just need to discipline myself and not get distracted.

I think I'm going to give Michael a call tomorrow. I have never asked him for anything. Maybe with his connections, he can help me out of this rut I'm in.

[Editors Note: Michael secures for Frank the post of medical officer for the City's Wayfarer's Lodge, a shelter for homeless men. Shortly afterwards, Frank opens another office in the suburb of Cleveland Heights with Dr. Hurley, a pediatrician.]

Hurley's wife is such a jewel. She's unbelievably aggressive. Everywhere she goes, she takes our business cards and hands them out. And she's involved in everything, the church -- they're Protestant Irish of all things -- the PTA, the Eastern Star, Kiwanis. She's done wonders for the new office. There isn't a day that goes by that one of us doesn't get a new patient from something that she's done.

It's a good match, Hurley and me. He takes care of the babies and I take care of the parents. I told him today that we need to add an obstetrician, then we'd have a full family practice. I was only half serious, but Hurley took me literally and said that he has a friend that might just fit the bill. I told Hurley that I'd talk to the landlord and see if we could lease more space if his friend is interested.

On my way back to the old office, I happened to go into Wilson's Drug Store today to get some cigarettes. I see that he's hired a new clerk to replace Tommy. She's quite attractive. She's in her mid twenties, very petite with huge green eyes. I looked to see if she was wearing a wedding ring, but she wasn't. It's unusual for such a pretty girl not to be married at that age.

When I got back here, I called about my trip. I'm going to have to leave for St. Louis on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. The train was all sold out for Wednesday. Must be a lot of people traveling for Thanksgiving. Somehow, I've got to find the time to buy them a toy or two before I leave. Maybe I can give Kathleen some money and have her pick out something for the boys. I don't seem to have the time to take a piss anymore.

Hurley and I took his wife Elizabeth out to dinner tonight to celebrate. Thanks to her efforts, I had appointments all afternoon and Hurley only had one half hour free. That's a first. It's so good to be making some real money again.

I stopped by Wilson's around eight-thirty to get some more cigarettes, but she wasn't working. Maybe she only works during the day. I'll stop by tomorrow when I go to pick up my shirts from the laundry.

I still need to do some reading tonight. I've got a patient coming in tomorrow with an ulcer that's not responding to treatment. I wish to hell I could find the article I read a couple of weeks ago on that new drug for ulcers. I think that I'm going to have to break down and spend the money to get someone in here a couple of days a weeks just to answer the phone and get me organized.

God, it was really busy here this morning. I thought I was only having three patients come in, but I got two more at the last minute. The flu is really hitting this city hard this year.

I'll just have time to pick up my shirts before I have to be at the Lodge this afternoon. Then it's to the train at six thirty. Jesus, I keep running from place to place. And I still have to stop at Kathleen's to pick up the gifts for the boys.

One thing all this work and running around does for me is cut back my expenditures on whiskey. I don't have the time any more, except late at night, to sit down and really enjoy a good shot or two of whiskey and a cigarette. I'm really looking forward to being able to relax with a good stiff drink when I get on the train.

I'm very happy about seeing the boys again. They really need me. I don't know why I had let so much time go by without seeing them. I could have gone to St. Louis any time I wanted over the past three years. My priorities were so screwed up that I didn't even think about them. They just reminded me of another one of my failures.

One thing was very clear to me in St. Louis. I've got to get the boys out of there and back here living with me. I felt so bad when they cried before I had to leave. How could she marry that fat jerk? What a disgusting excuse for a human being he is. Dumb as a donkey's dick and mean. The boys are scared to death of him. Couldn't she have done better than that?

At least she didn't fight the idea of the boys coming to live with me. Now that she's big as a house with his brat, she doesn't need them around anymore. I can tell by the way she talks to them.

What can I do to get them here right away? Maybe I can rent a place near Kathleen and have her take care of them until I get home at night. I just hate the idea of them living in that neighborhood though, even for a little while. And then there's Ann. She's such a strange, sad child. I don't think she'd get along with the boys at all. They're so rambunctious.

I wonder if I can interest Sheila in taking care of them for a few months until I can afford to hire a housekeeper. No, I can't impose on her and Michael like that. I let so much time go by without seeing her and the family. I can't suddenly show up on her doorstep with two boys.

I've got to find the time to look in the paper and see what it will cost me to have a woman stay with them during the day. Then I'll take a look at my bank account and see what I can do.

I spent the whole morning at the Lodge. It seems like everyone has the flu. It's no wonder, considering what those bums do to their bodies. Even though they can get free food there, most of the time they're too drunk to eat it. And, when they do eat, then they wander outside in the freezing cold without coats. One old guy died of exposure last night only two blocks away from the Lodge. He was too boozed up to make it two blocks to a warm bed. What can you do?

This afternoon, I had only five patients at the office here, so I had a chance to go over to the drug store around four-thirty. She was there working. I introduced myself to her and chatted with her until another customer came in. Her name is Jenny Petersen. She's from Millersburg, Ohio, wherever the hell that is. She says its a little town a few hours southwest of here. It amazes me how I can live in a state for so many years and still not know where anything is.

I asked her if she would have lunch with me tomorrow. She looked very embarrassed, but she said yes. She appears to be very shy, but I think she likes me. She's even prettier than I remembered, especially when she smiles. Her big eyes are so expressive. She almost talks with her eyes.

I've got to remember to wear my new suit tomorrow. Women are always impressed with a man who dresses well. Jesus, it's been so long since I've taken a woman out, I'm not sure I know how to act anymore. I don't know what they expect nowadays.

I've still got another several hours of work to do before I can hit the sack. I almost forgot that Hurley's wife has me speaking tomorrow night on diabetes to her Eastern Star chapter. I wish now that I'd put it off to next month. But, I really shouldn't complain. It's things like this that bring me new patients. New patients means more money. More money means the boys come that much sooner.

I'm so tired that I can hardly write. I had back-to-back patients here this morning. I just made it out of here for my lunch with Jenny. It was a good thing she only had an hour because I had to race on over to the other office for a whole afternoon of work. Then we had a kid brought in at the end of the day with an awful fracture in his arm. After that, there was the Eastern Star meeting and the coffee hour.

The highlight of the day was lunch. We walked over to Francine's, which is one of the quietest of the places around here. Jenny looked beautiful in a green dress that almost matched her eyes. I could see the heads turn as I walked down the street with her.

She said she's twenty-eight, but she looks several years younger. Her husband and she are separated. Fairly recently, I gather. I could see it was a touchy subject, so I didn't probe. I asked her if she had any kids. She hesitated and said no. I thought I detected pain in her eyes when she said that, so I didn't push it any further.

She's only been in Cleveland for a few weeks. Her whole life has been spent in Millersburg. Her father's a dairy farmer and a bit of a religious fanatic, from what I gather. Her family is Danish. From what she tells me there is a large Danish community out there. She said she didn't learn to speak English until she went to school. Everyone she knew as a child spoke Danish. I noticed she still has a slight trace of an accent.

She's more of a listener than a talker. Most of the time, I was doing the talking. Not because I planned to, but because she asked me so much about myself and my work. She is awed by me being a doctor.

I asked her to dinner on Friday. I would have loved to make it sooner, but things have become so hectic that I didn't see how I could fit in a leisurely evening until the weekend. Maybe I can get tickets to something at the Playhouse or Severance Hall. No, I'll wait on that. She doesn't strike me as the intellectual type.

Thank god I was able to sleep late this morning. I didn't realize how exhausted I was. Not that we were out late last night. I was back here before eleven. It's just the whole week of working such late hours and running back and forth from one place to the other really takes its toll.

Last night was very pleasant. I took Jenny over to that Hungarian restaurant on Buckeye where they have a gypsy violinist. It's very romantic. Women seem to like dark restaurants with flickering candles. Me, I like to see what I'm eating.

Jenny was a lot more talkative last night than she was when we had lunch together. Her shyness has almost completely disappeared and she was pretty open about the hard life she's had. The guy she married was part of the Danish community she lived in and had a small farm not too far from her father's. She said that he drank quite a lot and that the liquor would bring out a crazy violent streak in him. How familiar that all sounds. The Danes must be like the Irish.

I asked her if his violence was the reason they separated. She became very serious and said that something had happened which made it impossible for her to live with him. I didn't push it any further. There was a silence as she decided whether or not to confide in me. Finally, she told me the whole story.

One day when she was seven months pregnant, her husband had been drinking heavily and got some notion in his head that she was being unfaithful to him. He beat her up badly. Shortly after, she went into labor and the baby died. What a hell of a thing to happen. They ought to string that bastard up.

She said her father threw a fit when she told him she wanted to get a divorce. He gave her a lot of religious malarkey and told her she must learn to live with her husband's weaknesses. I can't understand how a parent can let a lot of religious bullshit doom his child to a life of misery. The responsible thing to do would have been to help her get out of that marriage.

I really give her credit for leaving there and coming to a strange city all by herself. That really takes some courage. She said she can't let her parents know where she is because her father will tell her husband who will come after her.

I tried to set her mind at ease by reminding her Cleveland is a very big city and it's easy to disappear in it. She was smart enough to take the precaution of going by her mother's maiden name, so she shouldn't have too much to worry about. For someone with so little real world experience, she is remarkably sophisticated.

There's something about her that stirs up all the old desires in me. Feelings I thought were dead forever. I just wanted to take her tiny body, press it up against mine and protect it from all of the things that frighten her.

She's so different from Louise. Even before we were married, Louise expected things from me. And she'd pout if I didn't do just what she wanted. Louise thought she was really something back then. I guess, maybe she was. She was thin and pretty then, with long curly blond hair and big, opulent breasts.

But Louise wasn't any prettier than Jenny. It's just that Louise knew she was attractive and manipulated people with her looks. Jenny isn't like that at all. Jenny is so delighted at the smallest courtesy. I can't imagine a gentle woman like Jenny ever turning into a bitch like Louise.

In retrospect, I think Louise enslaved me with her body. I couldn't keep my hands off her and she knew it. I was so inexperienced with women when I met her. The few women I'd known before her never let me do the things Louise did. Louise knew she needed to use her body to catch a husband and that's exactly what she did. Not much chance of that happening with Jenny. She has the body of a twelve-year-old.

I left the Heights office a little early today so I'd have time to be with her before I leave for St. Louis tomorrow. I asked her to come with me. Whatever it cost for the extra fare and a room would be worth having her meet the boys and seeing how they got on together. And I guess I wanted to spend Christmas with her too.

But she declined. I'm not really sure why. I thought, at first, she was thinking of going back to Millersburg to see her parents, but she said she didn't dare. She was afraid if she went back she'd have to stay.

She told me she couldn't afford to take the time off work. I offered to give her some money, but she wouldn't accept it. Apparently, she's going to stay by herself here in the city. She said Christmas was always a very special religious holiday for her and she was planning to go to the Lutheran church services on Christmas Eve.

She came over to the office about five with a big box of Christmas cookies she baked for me to take to the men at the Lodge tomorrow. She said she had a devil of a time convincing her grouchy old landlady to let her use the kitchen, but in the end, the old lady was happy enough to eat a whole batch of Jenny's cookies on her own. Jenny says Christmas isn't Christmas without cookies. It was the least she could do to make the homeless men at the Lodge feel happy during the holidays. Just as well that I'm taking in the cookies because if she saw what a bunch of drunken bums they were, she might feel less charitable.

When she arrived here, I was struggling to wrap all of the gifts I have to take with me tomorrow. She took pity on my miserable efforts and did all of the wrapping for me. She finished in an hour and a half what would have taken me three hours at least. And what a difference in the end result!

She's such a genuinely good person. I just wish that I had met someone like her years ago.

I wanted tonight to be our Christmas dinner together, so I made reservations at the Hollenden House for seven-thirty. Just as we were being seated, I saw Eliot Ness and his wife sitting several tables away. I noticed his eyes following Jenny appreciatively as she walked to the table. It gave me a distinct pleasure to see how much more attractive Jenny is than his wife.

He was seated so that I had a clear view of his face. He didn't look very happy, nor did his wife. He seemed to have aged quite a bit from the boyish face I remembered from a couple of years ago. He was really hitting the booze hard. I counted five drinks just in the two and a half hours or so that we were having dinner. It's difficult for me to believe I had once considered him to be so important. Thank god, I've come to my senses. I think I have finally got my head on straight now.

Ness kept looking over at Jenny. She seemed very flattered at the attention and asked me if I knew him. I told her who he was and that I only knew him by reputation. He was not high on the list of people I wanted to know well.

After dinner, I gave Jenny the Christmas present I bought for her. It was a gold bracelet I picked up at a real nice jewelry store in Shaker Heights. She was thrilled with it. She had never had a real gold bracelet before. It looked very attractive on her, accentuating her tiny wrists and hands.

She had a gift for me too. A very expensive wool scarf. I can't imagine how she could afford it. It's very handsome, but I wish she wouldn't spend so much on me when she makes so little.

It was as nice a Christmas dinner as I have ever had. I felt comfortable with her and wanted very much for our relationship to get closer. I was slowly overcoming my fear of touching her. On the way out of the restaurant, I held her hand. She seemed to like that.

When we got to her rooming house, I walked her, as I always did, up to the door. She looked so beautiful standing in the light with a few tiny snowflakes falling on her hair. I said I hoped she would have a good Christmas and took her hand up to my lips and kissed it. I wish I could be with you, I told her.

Her lips were parted in a slight smile. I put my arms around her shoulders very lightly and kissed her on the forehead. She moved closer to me, giving me the courage to draw her up to me and kiss her on the lips. I know it sounds crazy, considering how many times we've gone out, but I had never kissed her before. I've wanted to, but the timing never seemed right. For all my blarney, I guess I really am shy with women. I'm going to miss her next week. If only she were coming with me.

I'm glad to be back from St. Louis, although I hated leaving the boys behind. Being around Louise for any length of time is very jarring. The fat ugly pig had a girl. I don't think I've ever seen a fatter baby. She'll be just like her mother.

The boys liked their gifts, especially the toy soldiers and the tank. I told them I was working on bringing them back to live with me in the spring and it made them happier than any of the toys.

I took the boys out to eat at a nice hotel Christmas Eve. And then, Richard Donnelley, my friend from medical school, was nice enough to have the boys and me over to his home for dinner on Christmas Day. He has a boy just about Johnny's age. It was good to see old Richard again.

I called Jenny at work as soon as I got back to Cleveland. I told her that I thought about her a lot while I was away. Jesus Christ, I couldn't get her out of my mind, but I didn't tell her that. I was able to stop for a few minutes to see her at the drugstore between my trip from the train station to the Heights office. She was as beautiful as ever. Just looking at her really gets me aroused. I can't wait to have her in my arms again.

I had hoped to have dinner with Jenny, but we had an emergency down at the Lodge and I got stuck there until almost nine o'clock. Goddamn it! Now, the first chance I'll have to see here is tomorrow night. That reminds me, I still haven't made any reservations. I hope it's not too late to go somewhere nice.

I guess it's really January 1, 1938 now. I think that this has been the first New Year's Eve I have every truly enjoyed. No wild parties. No frenetic merriment. Instead, a quiet, elegant dinner and dancing at the Cleveland Hotel with my wonderful companion.

She looked just lovely tonight in a long, light yellow gown, wearing the bracelet I gave her. Next year, I'm going to get her the necklace to match.

This was the first time I'd ever seen her hair fixed in an upsweep. It makes her look totally different than when she wears it down around her shoulders. So classy and sophisticated. I was really proud to be seen with her.

But the dinner and dancing weren't the highlight of the evening. It was afterwards. The dancing and the champagne brought us together physically much more than we had been before. I think both our inhibitions were slipping fast as we danced so close.

Still, I had enough presence about me not to overstep my boundaries. Around one o'clock, I asked her if she wanted me to take her home. She giggled and suggested that we go back to my office for a nightcap. I can't do justice to the description of how I was affected by that suggestion. My mind reeled with the possibilities.

Back at my office, I fixed our drinks and she sat close to me on the couch. She was very affectionate, and very tipsy. I let her initiate things and then I'd cautiously press forward. I wasn't sure just how far she'd let me go. I didn't want to risk ending the evening by being too forward.

It was perfect though, the way it unfolded. Each new intimacy stoked my desire. Every unchecked advance was a wonderful gift. Finally, I knew she would let me have her completely. I was determined this would be our finest hour and I took her as gently and passionately as I've ever taken a woman.

God, how I wish she would have stayed the night. Once was not nearly enough to satisfy me. But she wanted to get back to her rooming house so there would be no raised eyebrows from her landlady in the morning.

I'm starting this new year with more optimism than I have had since I graduated medical school. I feel once again that I can and will be successful, not only in my work, but in my personal life. I look forward to having my boys with me again, and maybe, just maybe, if I am very lucky, a new wife.

I had a devil of a time sleeping last night. Too much champagne. Wine always does that to me. It makes me tired, but then it wakes me up several hours later and I can't get back to sleep.

Jenny spent the afternoon here at my office. The weather was too bad to do anything but stay indoors. She must have liked our lovemaking last night, because she was anxious to do it again and again. In fact, when the afternoon was over, she had completely exhausted me. She has a very strong sex drive, I'm happy to say. I wonder if it would continue when we got married or whether she'd go cold on me like Louise did.

Jenny does something I find very appealing. She makes me feel like I'm handsome and very desirable. Louise made me think I was lucky to be going out with her. Jenny, on the other hand, makes me feel like she really wants to have me.

The weather cleared up enough around six, so we brushed the snow off the car and drove out to a restaurant. We found a small place down Broadway that served nice hot roast beef sandwiches and mashed potatoes. Both of us were so tired that I took her home after we had dinner. Hopefully, I'll be able to get some sleep tonight.

I'm still having a lot of trouble sleeping. I've decided it's because I'm so keyed up. Not only with all this work, which has been quite a change of pace from the past couple of years, but the emotions that are new in my life. It would be silly not to think all of this change in such a short period of time wouldn't disrupt my equilibrium somewhat.

I stopped by Kathleen's this morning and checked the incision. She seems to be recovering very well from her gallbladder operation. Driscoll did a good job on her, as I knew he would. She's picked up a bad cold though, which has settled in her chest. Every time she coughs, the incision hurts. I brought her some strong cough medicine. That's about all I can do for her. I told her I'd stop by Monday night and listen to her chest. I want to make sure there aren't any complications, given her weakened condition.

I was thinking of telling Kathleen about Jenny, but I didn't just yet. I'll wait until Kathleen is better and then have them meet face to face. I sure hope they like each other. I expect Kathleen will give me some shit about Jenny not being Catholic or Irish. I wish Kathleen would be more broad-minded.

I took Jenny to the art museum this afternoon as I promised her I would. I was right in my initial assessment. She's not very well educated, but she has an open mind. I enjoyed teaching her the little bit I knew about the paintings we saw.

We went to dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant on Murray Hill. I particularly like those small, intimate restaurants, but the spaghetti wasn't nearly as good as Porfello's.

What a day I've got in store for me tomorrow. I have to be down at the Lodge at seven-thirty in the morning and back here at ten and then at the Heights office at one. Hurley says his wife has appointments booked for me through six-thirty.

I am so tired. I barely slept at all last night. I've been having the worst dreams lately. They're so bad they wake me up and then I can't get back to sleep.

The only good part of my day was when I drove Jenny downtown at lunchtime so she could apply for a job at Higbee's she saw advertised in the paper. The employment office was very encouraging about her prospects, but they said it would take three weeks for her to get an answer. It's a lot better wage than Wilson pays her and there are some chances for advancement. Of course, if my plans work out properly, she won't need to have a job at all.

I tried to do my accounts this evening. Hurley's wife does them for the other office and I pay her something every week for that, but I still have to keep the accounts for this office here. I'm months behind. If I wasn't so disorganized with all my receipts, I could probably hand it all over to a bookkeeper. But, as it is now, I almost have to do it all myself. I think I'm going to put it off for one more day. I just can't keep my mind focused on it.

I'm so restless. I keep fighting this desire to go out to the bars for a few hours. There's something in me that needs a little bit of sleaze. Like a vitamin or a mineral I need just a trace of, otherwise my mind doesn't function properly.

I had lunch with Michael today. I suggested we go someplace nice like the new Stouffer's restaurant, but he just about had a fit when I mentioned that place. He started ranting about how the Stouffer brothers conspired with Eliot Ness and the mayor to destroy the entire union movement in the city. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, so I offered to meet him at the City Grill.

I don't think I've ever seen Michael so wound up. I've been so busy these past months that I haven't paid any attention to city politics and I completely stopped following the adventures of Eliot Ness last fall.

What's got Michael so riled up is this labor scandal Ness uncovered. I guess I have seen a few headlines about it, but I didn't read the stories. Michael said Ness and Burton had a deal with the big business owners in town to try to break the unions. When they failed to bust up the unions during the strike last summer, Michael said Ness planned to discredit the unions by putting some of the union leaders in jail.

Vernon Stouffer and his brother went to Eliot Ness and claimed the leaders of two construction unions tried to extort money from them to have the new restaurant finished on time. For that and other extortion attempts, Ness sent the two union leaders to the Ohio penitentiary earlier this month.

I asked Michael if the union leaders were guilty. He looked a little sheepish and said, of course, they were guilty, but that wasn't the point. Ness was out to discredit the whole labor movement. I listened politely for another ten minutes of impassioned rhetoric and then I switched the subject to my main reason for inviting him to lunch.

I told him I was going to have to resign my position at the Wayfarer's Lodge. I wanted him to know first, since he had gotten the position for me. I explained I just couldn't keep the position, along with the two offices. In fact, I told him that probably next year, I'd close the office on Broadway and just work out of the Cleveland Heights office. The business in the new office was growing much faster than I ever had expected.

Michael was really happy things were going so well for me in my practice. He asked me how I was doing with my personal life. I don't know why, but I spilled out all my plans to him. Everything I wanted to do with the boys, a house and even Jenny.

Michael said he suspected as much when I called him up for advice about Jenny's divorce situation. I asked him to keep quiet about it for the time being because I hadn't said anything to Kathleen about Jenny. I told Michael I wanted to be very sure about the relationship before I went introducing her to my family.

Michael understood. He told me he looked forward to meeting Jenny, especially if she was as pretty as I told him she was. He said he wanted so much for me and the boys to have a good life together.

I went away from lunch feeling pretty good. I really like Michael. He's so genuine. No bullshit. I feel so much closer to him now than I ever did before.

Before I get too tight tonight, I've got to write my resignation letter. I want to get it downtown tomorrow morning. I'll give them two weeks' notice and extend it a third week if they're really in a bind. Resigning that post really takes a load off my shoulders. I can make twice as much at the new office in the same amount of time. Plus, I don't have to run around as much.

I'm going to have to cut down my hours. Sometimes I feel like I'm falling apart. I'm starting to fly off the handle every time some little thing goes wrong. I nearly bit the head off the new receptionist when she screwed up on the appointments for Monday afternoon.

Maybe once I get rid of this other job at the Lodge, I can cut back on the phenobarbital too. I'm really asking for trouble taking that stuff with as much whiskey as I drink. It's just that I need it to calm my nerves. Nothing else seems to work as well.

Sometimes, I wonder if the phenobarbital is doing something to my mind. About a month after I started taking it, I started having those fantasies again. It's either the drug or I'm losing my mind. Maybe I'll lay off the phenobarbital for a few days and see if it makes any difference. Who am I kidding? That stuff is so addictive. I'd end up in the hospital if I didn't keep taking it every day.

Maybe I should see a psychiatrist. It's just that I don't have any confidence they can really help me. They're such witch doctors. I'm not sure they've ever cured anybody. I couldn't ever completely open up to one anyway. It'd be too dangerous to tell him what I've done. I don't think they can really help a person unless they know everything.

I'm glad I went out tonight. It helped me take the edge off my nerves. The one good thing about these low life bars is that I never have to watch what I say or do. I can be completely relaxed without any regard to the social implications.

The minute I walk into those places, I am immediately the most successful person in the whole place. And these people look at a doctor as someone right below the pope in their scheme of things. I suppose it's kind of an ego boost to be so exalted, if even amongst the lowly.

I just need to pull away from those bars when I have to. Last night, I came home just before midnight. Things were starting to get a little out of hand, but I didn't do anything I'd regret. I made sure I didn't have more than one whiskey every hour, which seems to keep the beast in chains.

I've just been working too hard. That's got to be it. Once I ease up, things will get better. They've got to get better or I'll end up in the loony bin like my old man.

I almost lost track of a very important occasion. Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. If Jenny's cold is better, we can go over to Dugan's and start out there. I'd like to introduce her to my friends. Even if she's not feeling well enough to go with me, I'll go there by myself. I can't get into too much trouble at Dugan's.

And a happy St. Patty's Day to you too!!!!!! Good night and good morning.

I looked at what I wrote last night and marvel that I could write anything at all. The day after St. Patty's should be a holiday just like New Year's Day so people can sleep it off. It's too cruel to have to work with such a vicious hangover.

At lunchtime, I called Jenny to see how she was feeling. She still sounds all congested. I told her to keep taking what I had prescribed for her a few days ago. When it starts moving down into her chest, I'll put her on something else.

I fibbed a bit and told her I had a lousy time last night. I said I went to Dugan's for a couple of hours and came back here to bed. She wouldn't have enjoyed last night anyway, even if she didn't have a cold. She hates it when I drink a lot and she doesn't like to be around other people who are drinking heavily. Needless to say, everyone at Dugan's, including myself, was totally shit-faced the whole night. There was no point in telling her that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

There was a pair of white lacy panties on the back seat of my car when I stumbled into it this morning. I must have had a really good time last night. It's a damn good thing I found those panties before Jenny did. I'd never be able to come up with a good explanation. Something so stupid and trivial could destroy our whole relationship.

After I nap for a couple of hours, I'm going out for a hair of the dog. I need some other distraction to take my mind off my work. A tiny dose of sin before I see Jenny tomorrow night.

We went out to eat tonight at a new restaurant that opened up at Shaker Square. The food wasn't bad, but the prices were outrageous. Afterwards, we went back to my office. Jenny wanted to make love. It wasn't one of my finest performances. I just didn't seem to be in the mood.

I don't know what's the matter with me. There must be something constitutionally wrong. Here I have a beautiful, passionate woman like Jenny and all I think about is that whore I had last night.

Worse than that, is what I really wanted to do to the whore and didn't. It took every ounce of self control I had not to give into my real desires. Maybe I need a priest instead of a psychiatrist. There's something evil inside me just begging to get loose. God forbid it does.

Jenny can see something is wrong. How nervous I am. I've tried to downplay it to her, blaming it on overwork. I don't want her to think I'm falling apart. Jesus Christ, I could lose her. The last thing she is going to do is get tied down to another man who has a bunch of problems.

I took her home a little after midnight tonight. At the door, I just held her for the longest time. I wish now I'd begged her to stay the night.

She suggested we don't get together tomorrow afternoon. That maybe I should just rest. No, I need to be with her. I didn't tell her that sometimes I'm afraid to be alone.

Right after I saw her to the door, the need came over me with an awful intensity. I wanted to go to the bars again. To feel the excitement of the hunt. My mind started to rationalize me in that direction, but I fought it down and came back here to the office.

I just took a lot of phenobarbital to knock me out. I feel like a wild animal that needs to be tranquilized and then locked up in a cage for the night. Sometimes I wish they would just come and put a bullet through my head.

I went over to see Kathleen for about an hour after she got back from church. I still haven't said anything to her about Jenny. I don't know why I keep putting that conversation off. It's crazy, but it's almost as if I expect Kathleen to be jealous of any relationship I have with anybody else. Maybe, I'm really afraid Kathleen might not like her. That I might be faced with a choice between her and Jenny. I certainly don't need any pressure like that on me now.

This afternoon, Jenny and I went to a Cary Grant movie. I slept through most of it, but she seemed to like it. Afterwards, we went to a restaurant on Buckeye. The food was Hungarian and really excellent. I've never had better cherry strudel.

After dinner, we went back to my office and listened to the radio. She loves to look through my medical books. While she looked at the books, I threw together some information for that talk I have to give tomorrow night to the parents at Cleveland Heights High School. Another one of Hurley's wife's command performances.

It was so good just having Jenny there while I worked. She helps me stay focused on what I should be doing. I'm afraid if she hadn't been there, I would have found myself in the bars downtown. I just hope I can hang onto her, while I get these problems of mine under control once and for all. I took her home around eleven and came back here to bed.

I was buried in work today. Then I had this affair at the high school until nine. After it was over, the need came over me again. I called up Jenny's rooming house, looking for her and hoping I could stop by and take her out for some coffee somewhere. Just to be with her and not be alone with myself. But the landlady said she wasn't there. I can't imagine where she would be after nine at night.

My mind is my worst enemy. It crafts such innocent rationalizations for doing anything it wants. Then when I give into it, one thing leads to another and pretty soon everything is out of control.

My mind told me I needed to unwind. That I should stop off at a bar and have a few drinks. Talk to some people. Relax before I came back and went to bed. But I can't trust myself any more. I never know how the evening will end up. I was able to fight it down, but I have no confidence I'll always be strong enough to resist the temptation.

I can't let myself throw away everything I've been working for all these months. It's all within my grasp now. Jenny. The boys. A home for the first time in my life. Respect in the community. There's nothing more I need.

I felt very fragile today, so I called up Jenny and told her I needed to see her after work. I told her I had tried to see her last night, but her landlady said she was out. I didn't want Jenny to feel like she had to account to me for every hour of her day, but I was a little curious about what she was doing so late last night. I should have known it was perfectly innocent. She said she was talking to a woman who also rented a room in the same house. The woman had just moved in and they were getting to know each other over a cup of coffee in the woman's room. Jenny explained that the landlady didn't realize she was just down the hall when I called.

Jenny came over to the office with a big bag of rock candy, which she knows is my favorite. God bless that woman. She's the best thing in my life.

I think she wanted to make love, but I just wasn't able to emotionally. I've got all this frightening garbage in my head. Sometimes it makes it very hard for me to carry on a normal relationship. She stayed until a little after eleven. When she kept yawning, I took her home.

The need never seems to go away. All I can do is try to suppress it, stay in my office, and attempt to drown it in whiskey and phenobarbital.

After work, I was very restless. In fact, I was restless the whole afternoon. I just couldn't keep my mind on my patients. I even called one woman I know very well by the wrong name. I tried to call Jenny, but she wasn't home from work yet. Then I tried the drug store, but she had already left. I imagine she went shopping or something. I've got to stop clinging to her when I feel so restless. She's going to think I'm crazy.

I can't go on living like this. Always afraid of going alone to bars. Worrying about what's going to happen at the end of the evening. I decided tonight to confront it and deal with it head on.

I started out at Dugan's. There's no way I can get into any trouble at Dugan's. Patty's getting married next month. Her dad is real proud of her for landing the guy she's marrying. He's a foreman for American Steel and Wire and probably brings home a pretty good paycheck. I'm going to miss her though. She says her future husband won't let her work at the bar even under her father's watchful eye. Just as well. She should be having children. She's almost twenty-seven.

After a couple of hours, I went to Porfello's. Jack and Dennis were there, but Hanley had to work late to finish up some story for tomorrow's paper. They asked where I'd been. They missed my company. I whispered that I had a girlfriend who was taking up all my time in the evenings.

I indulged myself in a plate of their terrific spaghetti. It never changes. I just love that thick dark red sauce with those wonderful big meatballs. I have no doubt that if I ate here every night, I'd gain back all of the weight I've lost in the past several months.

I asked Jack how things were going on his favorite case. He said they hit a dead end months ago. Not that it stops his goofy partner Pete from checking out every screwball and stumblebum. It's been so many months now with no new bodies, the police are wondering if the killer has moved somewhere else.

Maybe one of his prospective victims killed him, I suggested. Jack said he didn't think they'd ever know. He was just as happy working on other cases. Ones he felt he had a fighting chance of solving.

Dennis wanted to know about my new girlfriend. I told the two of them I was planning to get married. Instead of congratulating me, both of those bums tried to talk me out of it. They really did. Dennis, poor lad, because he's so unhappily married to a shrew. And Jack, because he's a guy who's going to hang onto his bachelorhood as long as his handsome Irish face will let him. He said he had a new girlfriend too. The previous one tried to give him an ultimatum about getting married, so he dumped her and found someone else.

I defended my decision. I explained the situation with my boys. How I had to get them away from my ex-wife and her moron husband. And I told them I'd found a very special woman. Pretty, smart, very passionate. I think I was eloquent enough to make my point. At least, they stopped giving me a hard time.

I only stayed an hour and a half. Those two guys are very tedious when they've had too much beer and get bogged down in trivial police department politics. I was itching to go downtown to the bars on Prospect, where the music is loud and the company uninhibited. My soul, god save it, is in the dives on Prospect with the whores and the penny con men.

There are a lot of bars in that area. I know them all like the back of my hand. I drifted from one to another, no more than two drinks at each place. Enjoying myself, talking to the people there. Some of them I have talked to before. Others are new.

I feel some kind of link with these people. A link that defies logic. I'm comfortable with them. At home with them, even though they are so remote from me socially and intellectually. I've stopped trying to understand it and just accept it as fact.

In past years, when this was my prime hunting ground, I was just as at home here as all of the other hunters and their prey. It is the law of nature in these downtown bars, no different than in the jungle. The hunter has his needs. He satisfies his needs. It's all over quickly and quietly and life goes on as if nothing had happened. A perfectly natural system.

I got back here before twelve-thirty. The itch has been scratched with no nasty consequences. Perhaps I have been selling myself short on the subject of self control.

Goddamn my arrogance! I've got to get some help and I've got to get away from here. I can't count forever on whatever patron saint bailed me out tonight. I thought I was in control. What a goddamned joke I have played on myself! God only knows who or what is really in control of me.

I went out again tonight believing I would be all right. The change didn't happen right away. It's very gradual over a period of hours and drinks. It's like my will is slowly dissolving. I become a different person. No, I become a different being, one which controls me. My whole mind and body exist only to satisfy its driving lust.

It's not a mindless beast that attacks the closest victim. No, it hunts. It selects its prey, choosing the one who will bring the most pleasure and the least danger. It surveys its choices, selects a victim, talks to the victim, rejects the victim. Starts again. It goes on until the best one is found, even if it takes all night.

A perfect one was chosen. No one to miss him. No children or wife to suffer from his loss. I brought him here, fed him and gave him some whiskey to drink. He relaxed and I waited for the opportunity. Then came the knock on the door.

A perfunctory knock at best, because he always comes in right after he knocks. It was Louie. He looked at me and my companion and apologized for disturbing us so late. The furnace had broken down and he wanted to warn me to bundle up tonight. And then he wanted me to keep the faucets running a little so that the pipes wouldn't freeze.

How timely his visit. Not only did he save the life of the miserable creature who ate at my table, but he saved me from the black emptiness which resides at my very core. It was an omen. I must get help.

I was just barely able to function today. I didn't sleep at all last night. At work, my nerves were so shot I had to keep taking phenobarbital just to keep from shaking apart.

I called into the Heights office and had my appointments rescheduled for next week. I explained to Hurley I was going out of town on family business and I wasn't sure exactly what day I'd be back. He can see how frayed my nerves are. He knows something's wrong. I let him think I'm having problems with my ex-wife and the kids.

That's the story I'm going to tell Jenny, too, when I call her. I hate like hell to leave her, but I've got to get help quickly and the only place I know is the veterans' hospital in Sandusky. I just wish I could take her with me. She is so central to my future. And I feel so calm around her. Sometimes I wish I could tell her all about myself. Open up my innermost secrets. But I don't dare tell her any of that. She would run out of here screaming.

I stopped over at Kathleen's. She was alone. Billy was still at work and Ann was up in her bedroom doing homework. Kathleen knew there was something wrong the minute she saw me. Sometimes I think she comes very close to reading my mind.

For the first time that I can remember, she offered me whiskey instead of coffee. She said I looked like I needed a drink. She poured one for herself, too, as though she were preparing herself for bad news.

We sat at the kitchen table. There was no small talk. She expected me to get to the crux of what was troubling me and I did. That is, within the limits of what I can say to her. I told her I was having some very severe emotional problems which required professional help and I was going to look for that help in Sandusky.

She listened quietly and then she asked me something very intuitive. She said, Frank, what have you done? When I think about that question, it was really unexpected. I would have expected she'd have asked me about my drinking or the pressures of my work. I didn't quite know how to answer such a direct question. I don't like to lie to Kathleen, yet I cannot tell her the whole truth.

I told her I couldn't tell her what I'd done. I was too ashamed. She put her hand on the top of mine and looked me straight in the eye. All she said was, I love you, Frank. No matter what you've done, I love you. I believe that even if Kathleen had looked down into the black core of my soul, she would still love me. I hope I will never have to test that belief.

It's almost six-thirty now. If I had any sense at all, I'd drive out tomorrow morning. It's just that I don't trust myself being here tonight, not after what almost happened yesterday. I'll give Jenny a call, pack up a few clothes and hit the road before I change my mind.

Jenny. I don't know what to do about her. I feel like she is slipping away from me and I'm powerless to stop it. I can't really put my finger on it, but there's something in her voice that's different. It seems more distant now. God, I hope I'm just imagining this. I'm under so much pressure.

God help me. I don't know if there is anyone else who can. I talked with the psychiatrist for awhile. It was the first time I'd really spent any time with him. What a fucking incompetent! Goddamned worthless army doctors! I told him I wanted to stay knocked out for the whole weekend. Jesus, I even had to tell him what to prescribe. He did what I told him to do and I just stayed in a stupor for two days straight.

When I woke up yesterday in the late morning, I knew I was not in control anymore. The psychiatrist was nowhere around and nothing was prescribed for me except for the phenobarb which I needed to keep functioning.

I knew perfectly well what was going to happen and I was powerless to stop it. My will power had been paralyzed. About eleven o'clock, I got dressed and went into town and found a liquor store. I bought a couple of bottles. My body was screaming for a drink. I took a few gulps of whiskey, lighted a cigarette and went looking for a hardware store. Pretty soon I found one and bought everything I needed. The knife. The spade. Some burlap. I put the things into the trunk of the car and drove around the town and a few miles outside. I found a wooded spot a few miles south of Sandusky which would serve very well for that night.

I went back to the hospital in the early afternoon. Drinking and pacing around as I waited impatiently for evening. I indulged myself in all of my familiar fantasies. It is a ritual I go through before the hunt begins.

By five o'clock, I couldn't wait any longer. I left the hospital and drove back into the town. It didn't take long to find the kind of places I was looking for. I searched several of the bars before I had any luck. Then I found him. He was a drifter who had hitched his way into town from Flint, Michigan. He was pretty drunk when I found him, so I didn't have to spend much to get him into the state I wanted him.

On the pretense of giving him a place to sleep, I got him to come with me in the car. He was so drunk that he passed out while I drove out of town. God, I was so excited as I drove, I could hardly stay on the road. What I wanted to do was just to pull off on the side of the road and get it over with. But I restrained myself and headed out to the place I'd found that afternoon.

I parked the car on a deserted stretch of dirt road. He was still out cold. I took off my suit jacket and shirt and put them in the back seat. Then I put on the orderly's smock I took from the hospital this evening. I picked up the knife and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

He opened his eyes briefly, gave me a very confused look, and passed out again. There was no way he was going to walk on his own, so I hoisted him up over my shoulder and carried him to a spot that couldn't be seen from the road. I leaned his body up against a huge rotten tree stump and held him there. I could see him very clearly in the moonlight. He had just flickered momentarily into consciousness as I drew the knife across his throat. It was an interesting expression on his face. Bewilderment, not pain nor shock.

As his life flowed out before me, I was conscious it was not pleasure I felt this time, but relief, the rapid dissipation of unbearable tension.

I went back to the car afterward for a drink and a couple of cigarettes and to figure out just exactly where to bury his body. This was one body that couldn't be found under any circumstances. Sandusky was where the good Doctor Sullivan went to dry out when the bad Kingsbury Run killer was murdering in Cleveland. I was very careful in disposing of his body and it took me several hours to do it. Afterwards, I went back to the hospital to get some sleep.

What is it then that's eating at me? Gnawing a hole in my stomach lining all the way back from Sandusky? That I killed this guy? No, that's not it.

It finally hit me. I hadn't fully realized it before, but I can't stop. The need, the lust is in control and it scares the hell out of me.

I used to think I killed for pleasure. Then I convinced myself I did it for the publicity, but I always thought I could start it and stop it at will. Perhaps at one time, I could. I'll never know.

If I don't stop, one of these days, I'm sure to slip up and they will catch me. And when they catch me, they will execute me. I don't want to die in the electric chair. I don't want to be a freak everybody is afraid of. I want to live like everyone else with a wife and my children. I want to be a doctor people admire and respect.

I really need to have Jenny with me. She alone can calm my nerves. I just can't find her. Wilson said she didn't come in to work today and her landlady says she's not in her room. I hope I can reach her later. If ever I needed her, I need her now.

I don't know where to turn for help now. I don't even know how long I have before this lust will seize me again. Right now, I'd just like to drown myself in whiskey and pretend this is all a bad dream.

Oh Jesus Christ! This is the beginning of the end for me. I was listening to the news on the radio this evening and they found one of his legs in Sandusky. Some goddamned dog dug it up.

Now what? I've got to get a hold of myself. My whole goddamned life could depend on what happens in the next twenty-four hours. As soon as the police realize I was out there again in Sandusky, it's all over.

I wish I could get my hands to stop shaking. I've taken as much phenobarbital as I can to calm down. If I take anymore, I'll put myself to sleep. I've got too much serious thinking to do tonight to be groggy.

I can't seem to focus my mind properly. One part of me has panicked and wants to get out of the city immediately, maybe even out of the country, before the police put things together. The other part of me says that I'm overreacting to this one bit of news.

There's no point in scaring myself unless they find the rest of his body. Right now, all they have is a leg. For all they know, it could have been removed surgically or it could be the leg or a man who died from natural causes. There is nothing right now to tie this leg to the Kingsbury Run case or to me.

But the dog is sure to lead them back to the woods where it found the leg in the first place. Then they'll send out of bevy of police to look for places that have been recently dug up. Eventually, they will find more of him, and possibly, all of him. That could take another few days. I need to monitor that closely.

If I have to get out of the country, where can I go? I don't have a passport and I doubt that I have enough time to get one. Canada, maybe. I don't need a passport for Canada. Just a birth certificate, as I remember.

If I had to, I could drive to St. Louis and get the boys and then cross over the Canadian border. I could use the money I saved for a house and start over in Canada. It would be easy to get lost in Canada, even with the boys, if I practiced outside the bigger cities.

I wonder what it would take to persuade Jenny to go with me. I might be able to convince her that she needs to leave the country to prevent her husband from finding her. I don't know if she'd fall for that or not. Speaking of Jenny, I'd better call her later tonight, when I'm a little more sober. I think she's really pissed at me.

Jesus, of all times for her to drop in here. Right after I heard about this leg in Sandusky. She was so excited about that new job at Higbee's that she's moving into a nicer rooming house. I should be sharing her excitement and celebrating her new job with her. Instead, I'm half in the bag. She was really upset when she saw me. I can understand that. I'll make it up to her tomorrow.

I arrived here at four twenty-three this afternoon. The mailman had delivered three letters for me. One was a bill from the telephone company. Another was a letter from the AMA reminding me that I hadn't paid my dues. The third one was from a man I had gone to medical school with who wanted to know if I was interested in working with him on a research project. I put the mail aside and turned on the radio to hear the news. Nothing about Sandusky. I opened up the afternoon paper and looked for something on that leg, but there was nothing.

When I called Jenny this afternoon, I told her I picked up her suitcase at her old rooming house just like I promised I would and put it in the trunk of my car. I said I would see her around six-thirty and we'd go out to dinner. Then I'd drive her to her new place and carry in her suitcase for her.

That was the plan, but she caught me unawares two hours early. This was her last day at Wilson's and she felt like leaving early. She was upset when she saw the bottle of whiskey on the table and the condition I was in. She turned around and walked to the door. I put down my drink and asked her to please stay. She stopped walking, turned back around and looked angrily at me. She said she didn't understand what was happening to me and that she's afraid I'm just like her ex-husband. I told her I would put away the bottle and not have another drink the whole night if she would just stay with me.

She thought about it for a minute and then she sat down on the couch opposite my desk. She mumbled something I didn't quite hear. Something about Eliot Ness. I asked her to repeat it, but she said it was nothing. I insisted she finally did, but very reluctantly.

Why is it all the really good men like Eliot Ness are married?

I was confused by her comment. What do you know about Eliot Ness? I asked her. The only time you saw him was at the Hollenden late last year when I pointed him out to you. She had an odd look on her face as though she was deciding what to tell me. I've seen him several times since, she said, watching my face closely.

I picked up my whiskey glass again and drank from it. How is it, I asked her, that you saw him after the dinner at the Hollenden? He didn't speak to you as far as I could tell and he didn't know your name. She reached over to the desk and took one of my cigarettes. I had never seen her smoke before. She lighted the cigarette, crossed her legs and sat back on the couch.

It was quite by accident, she said, blowing the smoke at me. I saw him waiting for the elevator in the same building my divorce lawyer is in. He recognized me from the restaurant. She laughed giddily. Can you imagine that? All those months later? Remembering her? She was pleased and flattered by that. Then what happened? I asked her. I could see in her face that she enjoyed talking about him, but was embarrassed she had never mentioned it to me. Nothing really happened, she said. He introduced himself to her, as though anybody in this city didn't know who he was.

She was very impressed by his humility. Naturally, she returned the courtesy, told him her name and where she worked. She inhaled again and then blew another cloud of smoke in my direction.

Was that the only time you saw him? I asked her. She looked at me coyly, with just a tiny beginning of a smile on her face. No, she answered. He's dropped by the drugstore several times lately when he's was in the neighborhood.

In the neighborhood, I repeated softly, thinking of how out of the way this area is from the places he would normally frequent. I took another drink from my glass and lighted a cigarette for myself. Have you been out with him yet? I asked as though I were inquiring about whether the mail had been delivered.

She was slow to respond. What do you mean when you say out with?

I laughed and told her I didn't think there were many interpretations to my question. She became very precise when she told me she had lunch with him twice and drinks with him once, but he's never asked her out on a date. He's married, she explained righteously.

I nodded and said nothing. She started to talk again as though she felt it was necessary to explain her relationship. He's Scandinavian, she told me. Norwegian. I've been teaching him little phrases in Danish, which is very similar to Norwegian.

I nodded, drained my glass of whiskey and poured another. Would you like one? I offered. She said no. I picked up my drink, walked around from behind my desk and sat next to her on the couch. I put my drink down on the lamp table and turned toward her, my arm draped over the couch behind her. I gently stroked her long brown hair and looked at her beautiful green eyes. I have done this many times before and she has always turned her face directly to me and gazed lovingly into my eyes. This time she didn't. She continued to show me her profile while her eyes darted around nervously, always avoiding mine. My admiration was no longer welcome. It was awkward and superfluous.

Tell me some more about Eliot Ness, I heard myself ask her. What kind of man is he really? She turned and looked surprised at my question. It was a subject she was more than happy to expound on. Her eyes lighted up when she talked about him. You would really like him, she assured me. She went on for several minutes about how kind he was and sensitive, what punishingly long hours he worked and how dangerous his job is.

I said nothing. I didn't listen very closely. My mind was elsewhere. I wanted to ask her how he compared with me in bed, but I don't think I did. But then, she wouldn't have been able to answer me anyway at that time because my hands were already closed around her throat. I'm trying to understand exactly how they got around her throat. I don't remember putting them there. It wasn't my intention to put my hands there. But yet, they were definitely there for such a long time. I tried to take them away, but I couldn't. It was as though my hands were nailed to her throat.

Jesus God. What have I done.