Washington, M-N, 1893-1997, Undated

possession of some three
ousand dollars, in property,
nonds and cash.

playing with a tough char-
‘lard told Buchmann, as he
‘ith a clerk in the store to
e on the movements of the
o weeks later this clerk
lard and asked him to come
store.

ire going to be married,”’
erk. “She told me her in-
band had a most wonderful
| that they were going East
to St. Paul.”

ll her that fellow is an ex-
said Ballard, “and a bad:

rk followed instructions and
lost a customer.

believe it,’’ answered Kate
“He’s been back East for a
These detectives are always
es.”

ise on Denny Way was off
Ballard’s regular beat; but
any hours which might have
erwise pleasantly employed
neighborhood, so convinced
at something sinister was in
ig. From time to time he
iis suspicions to his superiors.
can we do about it?’ an-
»se men. “She has a right to

thoney if she wants to. She
me punk kid and made a
ut of it. Forget it! Kate

Mooers can
srself.”’

then one day in February, as

stopped at the hardwaref,
clerk had news.
narried yesterday,’ he said.f

[ast on a honeymoon—to St.
{1 maybe Cuba.”’
ad Ballard became Jim Ma-
ved the man and his elderly
f the time they strolled along
partment house about dusk.
evening, near the middle of
chey failed to appear for their
lard spot them the next day,
that they had finally left for
moon.
ndred dollars with me to hold
t,’’ said Mrs. Mahoney to her
ods. “We're not buying any
my diamonds with me so that

take care off

The Secret of Seattle’s Celebrated Trunk Enigma

I can wear them after Jimmie buys me a lot of new clothes
in St. Paul.”

There seemed little here about which to be alarmed; but Pa
Ballard had started upon a course from which he could not ; dead
be deterred. He went to, the clerk at the hardware store again: ot

“When did you see Mahoney last?’’ he asked. :

“Mahoney came in here Saturday morning,” said the clerk,
whose name was E. K. Boyd. “That was April sixteenth.

He bought thirty feet of heavy hemp rope and five pounds of
unslacked lime.’

“IT wonder what he wanted with that lime,’”’ mused Ballard,
as he walked away. ‘He might have wanted the rope to tie
up a trunk, but why the lime?”’ wan

Once again Ballard reported his fon to headquarters, :
mentioning the rope and the lime.

“Now Chad,’’ kidded one of the boys in the office,
‘if you must have a mystery don’t dig up a trunk
mystery. Get something new; that’s an old
gag. It’s positively hoary with age.’

But a good detective can stand con-
siderable kidding without being
turned from his purpose. Ballard
went to the Union Passen-
ger Station in Seattle.
There he was able to
ascertain from

on which to base his conclusions.
need of an encouraging word;

City Building.

(Above) Ace in the
hole not presented as evi-

dence by the prosecution—
the mineralogist’s pestle with
which the murderer felled his victim.
Why it was withheld at the killer’s
trial is fully explained in the story.

Over Patterson’s

na 2

FOUR ? THO

The above photo gives four genuine signatures taken from travelers’ checks signed by the
victim at the time of purchase. Note difference in formation of ‘‘r” and “‘s” as contrasted
with signatures on the opposite page

sae

ticket agents and conductors
that no couple answering the

description of Mr. and Mrs. James
Mahoney had left the station for St. Paul,

on either the 16th or 17th of April, as an-
nounced in the tentative plans of the pair.
The reader should not get the idea that Detective Ballard
was not meeting with co-operation; it was merely that in spite .
of his suspicions that earnest man had as yet nothing definite
Nevertheless, he felt the
so he turned to his friend,
Assistant Prosecuting Attorney T. H. Patterson, in the County-

“Pat,”’ he said entreatingly, “if you’ll stick with me I’ll
turn you up the most sensational case Seattle has ever had.”

“What have you got, Chad?” asked Patterson.

“A fellow that murdered his Wife,’’ answered the detective.
face came a broad grin; he was used to
having the boys play little jokes on him. He reached into his

desk and drew out a
blank “information.”

“First we want the
name of the murdered
woman,” he said, smil-
ing, “and then the mur-
derer.”’

“Ah, quit your clown-
ing,’ rasped Ballard.
“T’m on the level.”

E then related his

story to Patterson and
found a willing listener,
as well as one who shared
his sinister suspicions.

“Stay with it, Chad,”
said Patterson seriously,
“V’ll give you all the
help I can.’

Spurred on by these
encouraging words, Bal-
lard began to question
people who lived in the
apartment house on
Denny Way.

Mrs. George Klette
living directly across the
alley from the apart-
ments, said she saw
Jim Mahoney give his
wife an affectionate pat
about 5 o’clock on the
afternoon of April 16th.
At 9 o’clock that same
night she again saw a
light in the same room.
The curtains were then
drawn, however.

The apartment of


. tion in the neighborhood where Ma-

22 True Detective Mysteries

“That couldn’t be,’’ answered Chief
Tenant. ‘He’s still in the pen.”

“T saw him just the same,’’ countered
Ballard, and an investigation soon re-
vealed the true state of affairs.

“That old woman wasn’t Jim’s
mother,’ said Ballard. ‘He isn’t hang-
ing around her for any good.”

“Probably after her money,”’ replied
Tenant. “But we can’t do anything
about that.’

Nevertheless, Ballard who was not
easily deterred, began a quiet investiga-

honey and the elderly lady had gone
into the apartment house on Denny Way.

(Right) Detective Chad Ballard, vet-
eran detective-lieutenant, whose re-
lentless and untiring search for clues
brought the solution of the famous

Seattle trunk mystery

herself in ‘possession of some three
hundred thousand dollars, in property,
bonds, diamonds and cash.

“She is playing with a tough char-
acter,” Ballard told Buchmann, as he
arranged with a clerk in the store to
keep an eye on the movements of the
pair. Two weeks later this clerk
phoned Ballard and asked him to come
out to the store.

“They are going to be married,”
said the clerk. “She told me her in-
tended husband had a most wonderful
patent and that they were going Kast
to sell it; to St. Paul.”

“You tell her that fellow is an ex-
convict,’ said Ballard, “and a bad
actor.”’ ‘

HE clerk followed instructions and

almost lost a customer.

“I don’t believe it,’’ answered Kate
Mooers. ‘‘He’s been back East for a
long time. These detectives are always
telling tales.’”’

The house on Denny Way was off
Detective Ballard’s regular beat; but
he spent many hours which might have
been otherwise pleasantly employed
in that neighborhood, so convinced
was he that something sinister was in
the making. From time to time he
reported his suspicions to his superiors.

“What can we do about it?’ an-
swered these men. ‘She has a right to
marry Mahoney if she wants to. She
married one punk kid and made a

Four endorsement signatures on travelers’ checks that

were passed as genuine by two handwriting experts and

the bankers who cashed them. Note the heavy shading

of the letter ‘‘r’? and “‘s’’, one of the many points which
Luke May showed branded them as forgeries

Close by, was a hardware store
owned by Fred A. Buchmann, a
friend of the detective. To him
Ballard went first for information.

“Who is this old lady?’ he
asked.

“Oh, that’s Kate Mooers,”’ re-
plied Buchmann.

“Kate Mooers—Kate Mooers,”
mused Ballard. The name meant
something, but was elusive. Then
he recalled that she was a woman
with a history. At forty-five she ;
had married a young man only nineteen years old, whose
name has no bearing on this story. Even then she had con-
siderable money. The young husband was educated as a
physician; then he went to Alaska and became rich. After
the husband had grown wealthy, he asked for a divorce from
his elderly wife. This was arranged and Kate Mooers found

ae gorge,

Mooers can take care of
herself.’’

"Ballard stopped at the hardware
store, the clerk had news.
“They were married yesterday,’ he said.
“They are going East on a honeymoon—to St.
Paul, New York, and maybe Cuba.”’

From that moment, Chad Ballard became Jim Ma-
honey’s shadow. He followed the man and his elderly

”

wife about the streets. Most of the time they strolled along

together, usually leaving the apartment house about dusk.

But, on a certain Saturday evening, near the middle of
April, in the spring of 1921, they failed to appear for their
daily promenade; nor did Ballard spot them the next day,
or the next. Inquiry revealed that they had finally left for
St. Paul on a delayed honeymoon.

“P’m only taking fifteen hundred dollars with me to hold
us up until Jim sells his patent,” said Mrs. Mahoney to her
dentist, Doctor Frank B. Woods. ‘“We’re not buying any
clothes here, but I am taking my diamonds with me so that

And then one day in February, as.

I can wear them after
in St. Paul.’

There seemed little }
Ballard had started up:
be deterred. He went ti

“When did you see

“Mahoney came in hi
whose name was KE. K
He bought thirty feet o
unslacked lime.”’

“T wonder what he w
as he walked away. ‘tI
up 8 trunk, but why t!

Once again Ballard
mentioning the rope a

“Now Chad,” kidded
‘Sf you must have a my
mystery. Get somethi
gag. It’s positively

But a good detective
siderable kidding wit
turned from his purpose
went to the Union P
ger Station in Seati
There he was able to
ascertain from

fortune out of it. Forget it! Kate i

The above photo
victim at the tim


VTA
WW sh

A RV. J ; whit i
MAHONEY, James E., white, hanged (King)

December 1, 1922

By

Famous Seattle Criminologist

As told to
| HOLLIS B. FULTZ

| This is the seventeenth of Mr. May’s stories on scientific
crime investigation, written exclusively for
| True Detective Mysteries.

| Where was Kate Mahoney? Con-
stant shadowing brought no real
proof of foul play; relentless search-
ing no definite clue to murder.
Yet Detective Ballard had an un-
canny “hunch” as he set out to
solve the riddle of the heavy hemp
rope and vanished trunk

T would have been difficult to find a more chagrined young
man than Mr. Jimmie Mahoney, on that day in March of
1918, when the steel doors of a cell in the Washington
State Prison clanged shut on him, and five to thirty years

of penal servitude seemed his lot. That, of itself, was quite
enough to discourage any man, but the sorrowful look on the
face of this tall, gangling fellow, with soft, brown eyes, and hair
that had already edged far back toward the top of his cranium,
\ was due to a feeling of defeat; he had bungled his initial attempt
at major crime.

“There is one thing certain,’ said Mahoney to his cellmate,
“If I ever get out of here, they’ll never get me in again. It’s
a bum rap, anyhow. That guy owed me the money I took.
He lost it gambling and then tried’ to welch. I should have
hit him hard enough to keep his trap closed forever; that’s
where I made my mistake.”

Now the person to whom Jim Mahoney referred in such,
plain terms was one Elmer Fingall, a youth from Missoula,
Montana, The two had met on a Spokane bound train.
Later they went to a hotel where, the following morning, the
porter found the boy nearly dead. He said he had been robbed
of four hundred and five dollars after being drugged by the man
whom he had met on the train. Fingall did not know his
| assailant’s name, nor did any one at the hotel. And there

CW GS

LUKE S. MAY

20
STARTLING DETECTIVE, Octeber, 1933 as : -

THE SECK

SEATTL B’S Celebrated Tk

CAPTAIN CHARLES TENANT

in a case that

Chief of Detectives in Seattle to whom Detective
a murderer o

Chad Ballard reported when he discovered that a
woman’s life was in danger

“stir” crazy if he «
With a flair for m
the perfection of a

The wearisome
broken by the arriy
ston, who never fo
bars. And one da
came, in one of the:

were no finger-prints or other clues by which to trace him.

Elmer Fingall had had a near escape from death. He had
fought fiercely as the opiate began to work; it was almost a
miracle that he escaped a fractured skull. But months later,
in the city of Seattle, he came face to face into the man who
had robbed him. He summoned an officer and both boy and
man were taken to the police station. There it was that
Jim Mahoney and Detective-Lieutenant Chad Ballard first met.
Captain Carl Hedges asked Ballard to give the prisoner the
“once over,’ which he did in his usual thorough manner. He
found on Mahoney a pocket-knife and other articles which
had belonged to Fingall. The evidence was sufficient to send
Mahoney to the pen.

A year went by during which the prisoner, still unresigned
but seemingly determined to improve his time, gave the guards
no trouble. He spent many hours in the prison library in
company with Peter Miller, a notorious lifer, a man who could
tell Jim Mahoney all the things which Fagan knew. It was

he who told the despondent young man that he would go

““470U remember
wrote, ‘that
Well, their dad is
feels sure she can
one Christmas par
to try for that if »
be very good and \
arranged, if you wi
you need to put it
marry 8 rich widow


THE
2lebrated

LES TENANT

‘ttle to whom Detective
-n he discovered that a
s in danger

‘lues by which to trace him.
escape from death. He had
zan to work; it was almost a
red skull. But months later,
ace to face into the man who
1 an officer and both boy and
station. There it was that
itenant Chad Ballard first met.
lard to give the prisoner the
; usual thorough manner. He
nife and other articles which
-vidence was sufficient to send

1 the prisoner, still unresigned
srove his time, gave the guards
ours in the prison library in
storious lifer, a man who could
; which Fagan knew. It was
young man that he would go

oR EE SRS ee Sa

TRUNK

Ce

VALUABLE EVIDENCE

in a case that kept Seattle officers guessing for months; the trunk containing the authentic proof that helped to convict
a murderer of a ghastly crime. This picture was snapped just as the trunk was taken up from Lake Union, after the
lake had been carefully dragged

“stir” crazy if he did not find something to occupy his mind.
With a flair for mechanics, Mahoney worked diligently upon
the perfection of a new air-brake for railway trains.

The wearisome days of prison routine were now and then
broken by the arrival of a-letter from his sister, Dolores John-
ston, who never for a moment forgot the brother behind the
bars. And one day, toward the end of the first year, there
came, in one of these letters, news of a most heartening sort.

“WOU remember the Hart kids, don’t you Jimmie,” she

wrote, ‘‘that we used to play with up in Snohomish?
Well, their dad is the new Governor. Isn’t that luck? Ma
feels sure she can get you out. The Governor always gives
one Christmas pardon as a kind of present; and we’re going
to try for that if we-can’t spring you any sooner. You must
be very good and work hard on your invention. I have it all
arranged, if you will follow my plans, to get you all the money
you need to put it on the market. How would you like to
marry a rich widow, worth, say, a quarter of a ‘million dollars?

I am renting one of her apartment houses. I have told her
about you, but she thinks you are in the East. She’ll like
you, and she’ll go for anything that looks like easy money
for her.”’

From that time on Jim Mahoney became the best behaved
prisoner in the institution. When the fall of 1920 rolled
around he had the warden convinced that reformation was com-
plete. Nora Mahoney and her daughter went down to Olympia
to see Governor Louis F. Hart, and probably more for old-
times’ sake than any other reason, that kindly man told the
aging Irish mother she should have her son for Christmas.

Early in January of 1921, Detective Chad Ballard, stand-
ing on the corner of Fourth and Pike, one of the princjpal
thoroughfares of Seattle, saw a familiar, gawky figure, walking
slowly along, arm in arm, with an elderly woman, gazing
into the shop windows. He followed the couple until they
entered the Sofia Apartment at 409 Denny Way, then he has-
tened to report to his chief.

“I saw Jim Mahoney on the street,’ said Ballard.

21


‘ame
astic
and
cret.
nical
hou-
nted.
pro-
that
) his
<ness
oney
i his

ch to
with
i Mrs.

sssary -

ce the
oney-
his in-
ee to-

ibtedly
.d con-
The
ements
rtment
ire set.
to have
talked
y’s sis-
r purse

parture.
1e bank

NAMIC

; John Dare,

attorney for the
defense, tried to enlist
public sympathy for his
client when the startling
case came to trial.

and made a withdrawal of $1,600. A
few hours later she ‘had issued to her
at the American Express company $460
in travelers’ checks which bore her sig-
nature, That same evening she and her
husband attended an informal dance at a
hotel and announced to their friends the
date of departure on their honeymoon
and proposed trip around the world.

The following day, April 16, Mrs. Ma-
honey was seen about the apartment sev-
eral times, busily engaged in packing her
belongings. A woman living next door
paused to chat a few minutes with her
and learned they were taking an early
morning train.

: Mahoney and his wife had supper that
night at a nearby restaurant and said
good-bye to several friends who entered
the place. About 10 o'clock the neigh-
bor happened to glance out of her win-
dow and noticed an expressman loading a
large, round-topped trunk onto his truck.
“There goes the Mahoney luggage,” she
remarked to her husband. He, in turn
glanced out of the window as the truck
pulled away and saw Mahoney himself
accompanying the driver in the front
seat,

Nothing more was seen of the honey-
moon pair, One of Mahoney’s friends
in the neighborhood received a postal
card bearing a stamp from Spokane.
Shortly afterwards, letters were received
by the two nieces saying Mahoney and
his wife had arrived in St. Paul. The
letters were written by Mahoney him-

self but were signed by his wife. In the.

letters Mahoney mentioned that Kate
was not feeling well and that he was writ-
ing the letters at her dictation.

In the same mail were two other mis-
sives signed by Mrs, Kate Mahoney. One
was a letter to Mrs. Mahoney’s attorney
directing him to turn over to her husband
all papers and abstracts that he had on

DETECTIVE

Mrs. Dolores John-
son, who resembled
the murdered wo-
man, arranged the
marriage between
her brother and the
victim of the plot.

hand, The other letter was
to a banking firm authoriz-
ing them to give her hus-
band permission to use the safety de-
posit box -held in her name.

On April 27, James Mahoney re-
appeared in Seattle. He said that his
wife had gone on to Boston from St.
Paul. From there she intended making
a trip to Cuba to await his return east.
Mahoney said that business and the dis-
posal of his invention prevented his mak-
ing the Boston trip.

Husband Revels In Wealth

AHONEY plunged forthwith into
the business that had brought him
back to Seattle. He presented himself to
Mrs. Mahoney’s attorney and had all
papers and abstracts turned over to him,
At the same time he presented a signed
instrument granting him power of at-
torney from his wife, with signatures
witnessed and sealed by an authorized
Seattle notary and was granted admission
to Mrs. Mahoney’s safe deposit box.
Mahoney’s financial status in Seattle
changed immediately. He appeared at
a fashionable tailoring shop, ordered and
received a volume of new clothes and
paid for them in signed travelers’ checks

with second signature filled in by Mrs.
Mahoney. With a real estate firm he
listed a number of the property holdings
of his wife and had them termed for sale.
Some he even succeeded, with his power
of attorney as a backing to a deed, in
turning into cash. At several well known
jewelry establishments he offered for sale
some of the diamonds and jewels his wife
had been known to possess and keep in
her safety deposit box.

It was only natural that the niece of
Mrs. Mahoney residing in Seattle should
learn of all this. More so, it was only
natural that, knowing herself to be one
of the old lady’s few relatives, she should
feel some concern regarding the dis-
posal of her aunt’s property.

First the niece visited Mahoney and
asked for more information concerning
her aunt. Mahoney replied readily that
he and his wife had reached an under-
standing. She was to go on to Cuba
while he returned to Seattle and disposed
of her property. Then together they in-
tended to tour the world.

The niece was not satisfied with the
explanation. She immediately consulted

[Continued on page 54]

37


-y’s sister
> of Mrs.
rs of age,
r Seattle
partments
es worth

oul. She
id she had
istence to
Johnson.
from the
ne of im-
or’s brain.
led to her

varely 38.
g and had

‘YNAMIC

«s Suspecting tragedy,
« police investigated
- the disappearance of
a wealthy woman.
‘Shrewd detectives
solved the puzzle and

DETECTIVE

-revealed the killer.

fter ‘Mrs, Mahoney. had been
missing for weeks, police. believing

that she might. have been mur-
‘dered, engaged divers to search the

bottom of Lake Union for her body.


*

Mahoney quickly grasped his sister’s
idea. During the next few weeks Mrs.
Mooer’s life lost its loneliness. With the
fire of a young man in his prime, Ma-
honey wooed the neurotic widow and
success came easily..

Leads Widow To Altar

W ITHIN a month from the day
they met, Mrs. Kate Mooers, the
wealthy widow, and James. E. Mahoney,
the paroled convict, were married be-
fore the justice court at Seattle. Mrs.
Johnson, the sister, had reason to smile
at her success.

Mahoney, however, soon learned that

36

When his wife failed
to appear, James
Mahoney (right) was
taken into custody
by. Sheriff Matt Star-
wich for questioning.

his wife was not as easy a victim in mat-
ters of money as she had been in love.
In fact, Mrs. Mahoney declared at once
that Mahoney would be allowed a cer-
tain amount for the work he did about
the apartment. He might collect rents
and other money but the sums were to be
turned over to his wife at once. She didn’t
intend to sacrifice any of her fortune.

For weeks Mahoney stood the gall. His
allowance was barely enough to eat on
and his sister was even forced to lend
him money with which to buy clothes.
tas began to see the doom of his
plan.

Then suddenly he adopted a new
procedure. From the grumbling idler

Brilliant sleuthing on the
part of Captain of Detec-
tives Charles Tennant
(below) resulted in the
capture of a ruthless killer.

about the apartment, he suddenly became
possessed of a burst of enthusiastic
energy. Mrs. Mahoney wondered and
one day she was let in on the big secret.

Mahoney had perfected a mechanical
invention which would be worth thou-
sands of dollars once it was patented.
However, to patent it with all the pro-
tection necessary it was imperative that
he go east to St. Paul. Here, with his
knowledge of the sentimental weakness
of the woman he married, Mahoney
threw himself upon the mercy of his
wife.

Pair Plan Honeymoon

HE HAD no money with which to
make the journey nor money with
which to patent his invention, but if Mrs.
Mahoney would loan him the necessary
amount why could they not make the
trip together and call it their honey-
moon? Once he had disposed of his in-
vention the world was theirs to see to-
gether.

As a lover Mahoney was undoubtedly
no novice. Within the hour he had con-
vinced his wife of his sincerity. The
trip was quickly planned, arrangements
for the management of the apartment
talked over and a date for departure set.
The idea of a honeymoon seemed to have
turned the trick. Mrs. Mahoney talked
of it to her neighbors, to Mahoney’s sis-
ter and to friends. For once her purse
strings were loosened.

April 17 was the day set for departure.
On April 15, she appeared at the bank

DYNAMIC

John |
dete
. publi
clien|

ore

and made
few hours
at the Any
in traveler
nature, Tl
husband at
hotel and :
date of d
and propo
The foll
honey was
eral times,
belonging
paused to
and learn
morning +
Mahon«
night at
good-bye
the place.
bor happ:
dow and:
large, rou
“There gi

- remarked

glanced c
pulled aw
accompan
seat.
Nothin;
moon pai
in the n
card bea:
Shortly a
by the tw
his wife
letters w
self but w
letters
was not fc
ing the lc
In the
sives sign
was a let!
directing
all paper

DETEC


ee ee

%
oe

M rae Y, Yluwevt

Reaching a weird climax, a baffling mystery
was solved when tireless searchers on
Lake Union made a shocking discovery.

ne

Jay J. Kalez

S HE lounged in the parlor of his
A sister’s Seattle boarding house,
James FE, Mahoney reflected that
at last he was free to do what he wanted.
Only a few hours before the gates of
Walla Walla had clanged behind him,
bringing to an end a miserable two years
of prison existence. A Christmas parole,
granted on December 23, 1920, had re-
leased him from the rest of his six-year
sentence for robbery.

There would be no more meals in an
enormous common mess hall, no more
restless nights on an iron cot, no more
steel bars shutting him away from the
comforts of the world. But as he sat
watching the snowflakes floating down
outside the window, Mahoney’s mouth
set in a straight, hard line. He might
just as well be back in prison for all the

UC posce Wtealow. fouls (FF 7

7 ae
ee |

eattle’s Riddle

of the

SUNKEN

CORPSE

good his freedom was doing him. A
man couldn’t enjoy life unless he had
plenty of money and Mahoney’s prison

’ days hadn’t been profitable.

Noticing his grim expression, the ex-
convict’s sister, Mrs. Dolores Johnson,
smiled sympathetically. It was time to
tell him about the plan she had been form-
ing carefully during the last year. Mrs.
Johnson's purpose in having her brother
move in with her was not an idle whim.
She had an idea that meant money for
the Mahoney family and her brother was
a vital factor in that scheme. :

The disappearance of Mrs. Kate
Mahoney introduced police to a
puzzle that almost defied solution.

During the past year Mahoney’s sister

had cultivated the acquaintance of Mrs.
Kate Mooers, a woman 68 years of age,
and the widow of a former Seattle
dentist. Mrs. Mooers owned apartments
in Seattle and other properties worth
well over $200,000.

Mrs. Mooers was a lonely soul. She
had only two living relatives and she had
complained of her sombre existence to
her newly found friend, Mrs, Johnson.
The release of James Mahoney from the
penitentiary had fanned the flame of im-
agination in his mercenary sister’s brain.

Here was a chance, she confided to her
brother.

Mahoney was still young, barely 38.
He was tall, rather good-looking and had
a captivating personality.

DYNAMIC

Suspe
police
the di

a we
Shre:
solver
reve:

DETECTIV

ee |

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26

DIVER RAY COLBY starts descent to the bottom of Seattle's muddy Lake Union in
the eight-week search for a trunk containing the body of the missing wife.
silt clouded the diver’s vision, a detective chief devised a unique iron sled.

MRS. MAHONEY built up a fortune by
shrewd management, then lost her money
and her life in a December-May romance.

very satisfactorily and Jimmy will return
to Seattle and look after things there until
his health improves and he joins me later
in the season. I may have him sell out for
me there, providing real estate picks up. I
would have done so before I left but the
market was poor and money tight. Hoping to
hear from you soon, your auntie, Kate
Mahoney

P. S. Jimmy is writing for me as I sprained
my wrist a day ago getting out of a car.

— eed

When

Chief Tennant looked up questioningly.

“Who is Mrs. Atkinson,” he asked. Mrs.
Stewart shook her head.

“It must be someone she met on the
train.”

“And Jimmy’s the bridegroom?”

“James Mahoney,” the woman said bit-
terly. The detective chief looked up,
startled, The name clicked in*his mind.
Quickly he stepped to the office door.

“Bring me a mug shot of a James
Mahoney,” he called, He came back and
faced Mrs. Stewart.

“We have a record on a James Ma-’

honey,” he explained. “Three years ago we
sent a man with that name to the state
penitentiary for five-to-25 years on an
assault and robbery charge. It might be
the same one.”

Detective Chad Ballard entered with a
police photo, which Captain Tennant
handed to the anxious niece. Her hand
trembled in excitement.

“That’s the man!” she exclaimed. “I'd
know him anywhere.”

Tennant looked grim. “You may be
right, then, in your fears for your aunt.”

Tennant recalled that Mahoney had
been arrested for beating and robbing a
stranger as he lay in his berth on a train.
He received a long term, but was par-
doned after two years by Washington’s
governor after an appeal by his relatives.

“Tell us more about your aunt,” the
chief requested of Mrs. Stewart.

“She was Kate Moers,” the distressed
woman said. “She was quite well. known.
She has property, diamonds and furs
worth around $400,000. We were all dis-

gusted when she fell in love with a man’

only half her age. Even when we were
around he’d turn to her and say, ‘Kiss me,
Kate.’ ”

When younger she was known as Kate
Keiler, “Mrs. Stewart continued. She
operated a string of dance halls in the
rough mining towns of Butte and Ana-
conda. Later she moved to Vancouver,
Wash., and married a man considerably
younger than she. He had gone to Alaska
and become wealthy, and when Kate
divorced him she received a generous

and ‘detectives.
from the depths where she spent her honeymoon.

es Skee | Ky :
ry aN tea, y
i \ ik I - v,¢ a * Gh

SUCCESS rewards the patient efforts of divers

Kate Mahoney returns at last

settlement which she built into a fortune
by shrewd management.

Mrs. Carrie Stewart departed, assured
by the chief detective that he would im-
mediately start an investigation into -her
aunt’s health and whereabouts.

Captain Tennant telegraphed St. Paul
police to get a line on.the honeymooners
there. He ordered Detective Ballard to
make local inquiries. Ballard returned to
headquarters late that day.

“It looks as if he fooled her,” he re-
ported to Tennant. “They first met at the
New Baker Hotel, one of her properties.
Then they married and moved into the
Sophia apartments at 409 Denny Way,
which she also owns. She introduced him
as the owner of valuable patents on rail-
road air brakes. When they went East it
was supposedly to sell his patents.”

HE 72-year-old divorcee married her
fiance of 35 on February 10. They ap-
parently entrained for the East on April
17, three weeks before Mrs. Stewart

. brought her suspicions to the Seattle

police. .

“Keep asking questions around the
Sofia,” Tennant directed. “There may be
more to learn there.”

Ballard’s face was grave when he next
reported,

“There’s a hardware store in the block,
and the clerk says that on April 14 he
sold Mahoney 30 feet of new rope.”

“That could have been used for tying
the boxes or trunks they took East,” Ten-
nant pointed out.

“That isn’t all,” Ballard revealed.
“Mahoney also bought five pounds of
quicklime.”

Tennant’s eyes narrowed. “That could
have been used to destroy a body. Why
should a bridegroom want lime?” He
handed Ballard a telegram. “This came
from the St. Paul police.”

Mr. and Mrs. James Mahoney registered
St. Francis Hotel April 22, Checked out
next day. Have traced baggage to. Duluth.
Trail lost there. Woman registered as Mrs.

Mahoney about 35, not 72, clerk says.

Signed, Herman Vall, chief of detectives.

‘DETECTIVE Chic
bled his career v
for murder befor

“We've got :
citedly. “Kate 1
age, but she cou
that young.”

“T know it,”
got to find Jim
bottom of this.
marry an old w«
the bridegroom

“Kate couldn
St. Paul and S:
wonder where s

The captain t
pose Kate didn’t
moon ?” he aske:

“Maybe she
gested Ballard.

“Not with li
Tennant. ‘That
the trunk or
wouldn’t dare di
into a box or t:
it in some other
it around here. (

Detective Bal
bors who lived :
hall from the no
ment,

“They were pz
16,” the woman

gay, saying this
happiest honeym:

“How many t

“Three,” repli
square ones and
with a_round top

Ballard next \
tion and learned :
been checked on

“That does it!
he heard this new
put her in the tt

But where wa
where was the t

“We've got to ;
this case,” Tenna
newspaper report
story breaks some
more information

He called in the
Seattle Star, T:
gencer and outli


at

“T never rented a boat from you. It
must have been somebody else.”
“No, it was you, all right. I remem-

ber you. You signed out for it, and

I've got your name on the register.”
“Why don’t you give up, Mahoney?”
Tennant asked. “We’ve got your hand-
writing on the books. You rented the
boat. We’ll be able to prove that.”

AHONEY cursed. “T’ll tell you
nothing.”

“What did he rent the boat for?”
Ballard asked Howard.

“Said he wanted to take a trunk to
his houseboat. Said he couldn’t get to
it on the road, so he had the express-
man deliver it here and he took it
down to the houseboat in my row-
boat.”

Both Tennant and Ballard turned on
Mahoney. Mahoney scowled and kept
his lips closed. Had Mahoney sunk
the trunk in the lake? Could it be
recovered? Would Kate Mahoney be
found at last?

“T guess we've got enough now to
go to court and give reasons for hold-
ing him a while longer,” Tennant said.
“Let’s go!”

With Howard with them, the detec-
tives sped back to the courthouse.
They quickly outlined to the judge
what they had learned and were
granted an extension of time.

Divers Frank Bell and A. C. Colby
immediately were hired and sent to
Lake Union to start a search of the
lake bottom for the missing trunk.

The first week of anxious waiting
passed without any signs of the trunk.
The second week went by ... the
third ...... fourth... . Sift .c75

“We can't see on the bottom,” the

"| Think | Killed Three of Them"

with a halo of white dogwood. On the
fourth night, just before Jimmy was to
return to Fort Meade, we drove
to the top of Cumberland Mountain.
The air around us was like a soft,
scented blanket, and far down below
us we could see the twinkling lights
of distant Kentucky towns, just over
the border. We talked about the
beauty of the night in a rather halt-
ing, self-conscious manner, as though
we both knew there were other
things we wished to talk about. Sud-
denly Jimmy slid over the leather
seat towards me, reached for my hand.

“Look, Grace,” he said, “let’s talk
about how beautiful the night is some
other time—right now I want to talk
about you.”

“But you know most everything
about me.”

“Well, let’s say you and me,” he
amended. “I want to tell you some-
thing—I’m in love with you, Grace!
And I think you are with me—I can
see it every time I look at you.”

My heart was pounding wildly, but
I tried to still my shaking voice. “I
thought you would know soon, Jimmy.
I am in love with you. But I want you
to know this. I don’t know whether
it’s because you are so much like
Johnnie—or because it’s you alone. I
can't tell yet.”

He brought me close to him, then
kissed me. “It doesn’t matter, just so
you are in love with me.” Of that
much I wasn’t exactly sure. Whether
it was love for a lost ideal, or love for
Jimmy himself—I didn’t really know.

Jimmy asked me to marry him. He
said that in seven months he could
leave the Army and become affiliated
with some private organization. I told
him I would.

Seven months later Jimmy and I
were married in the sleepy little town
of Pound, Virginia, and after a month
of honeymooning in Florida, we re-
turned to Norton.

Through Father’s influence, Jimmy
quickly obtained a good position with
one of the largest coal-mining com-
panies in Harlan. We remained there
for over three years—three years of
complete happiness and contentment,
three years in which I came to know
I was really in love with my husband.

38

divers complained. “It is mud and as
soon as we walk on the bottom, it all
clouds up and we can just grope along
feeling. It will take months to cover
the lake that way and we never may
find it even though it is there.”

In the meantime, Mahoney still was
making a desperate effort to get free.
He publicly stated that the trunk was
filled with whisky, thus at least ad-
mitting there was a trunk.

“IT was bootlegging before I was
married,” he said. “After I married
Kate, I promised to give it up and go
straight. I filled the trunk with liquor
and threw it in the lake.”

Was this the true story? Was Ten-
nant making the mistake that would
wreck his career? But where, then,
was Kate Mahoney?

Ballard and Tennant were in Ten-
nant’s office going over the case at the
beginning of the seventh week of
diving.

“We've got to get that trunk,” Bal-
lard said. ‘‘We’ve got the case solved
—I hope—but we’ll never get a con-
viction until we get the trunk and
prove Kate’s body is in it.”

“The divers will find it,” Tennant
stated.

“T just came in from talking to them.
They say they could pass within a few
feet of it and not see it. It may take
months—even longer—the way the
mud is on the bottom.”

Suddenly Tennant’s eyes narrowed
to slits as he went into deep thought.
“They walk on the bottom and stir up
the mud,” he said aloud, thinking.

Tennant’s fist hit the desk.

“T’ve got it! Look!”

He pulled a pencil from his coat
pocket and hurriedly began to sketch.

Then Jimmy was transferred, but
after a short while was shifted back
to Harlan.

Meanwhile, my son and daughter
became married, one of them moving
to Ohio, the other to Maryland. With
Jimmy away all day and sometimes
until late at night, the house, with all
its empty loneliness, began to weigh
upon me. One day I heard of a tragic
case—a nine-month-old baby girl be-
ing left an orphan. Her mother had
died at its birth; the father had been
killed in a mine explosion shortly
afterwards. The infant had been taken
in by an aunt who could not afford
to add another child to her brood of
hungry mouths.

I went to the home of the lady who
had taken the child. One look at the
abandoned infant and I fell in love
with her—a darling tot with big blue
eyes and an unceasing, gurgling smile.
In a short while the woman agreed
to my adopting the child—in fact, she
was grateful for my offer.

When Jimmie came home and saw
the baby a strange look of hurt and
anger came into his eyes. I knew what
was passing in his mind, but I didn’t
say anything. It was a delicate situa-
tion for, as much as we loved them,
we had been unable to have children.
However, I felt sure he would come
to love the child.

My confidence was soon vindicated.
After only a week Jimmie became mad
about the baby. When he came home,
the first thing he would do was to
head for the crib, to coo and play with
the tot until I had to drag him to his
evening meal,

FoR several years life moved in swift
happiness for all of us. Marie was a
sweet child, obedient and _ lovable.
Jimmy was working hard, seemingly

eager to go higher and higher in the-

company,

Then something happened — some-
thing that wasn’t immediately clear—
like a distant shout, or a shape mov-
ing in the dimness of a darkened
room. For three nights in a row Jim-
my came home late, completely in-
toxicated. That was the first notice-
able thing. I asked him about it.

“Good Lord, Grace, I’ve been work-

“We'll build a sled out of iron,” he
explained. “The boat can pull the sled
and it will drag on the bottom. The
divers can stand on the front of it and
see everything in front of them.”

Ballard leaped up. “I think you’ve
hit it!”

Within the hour blacksmiths were
working on building the iron sled to
be pulled across the bottom of the lake.
But would this stunt be successful?
What if the trunk had sunk completely
out of sight?

On the day that marked the end of
the second month of diving, Bell sud-
denly pulled on the lines connecting
him with the tug. It was the signal
that he had seen the trunk.

Pulled to the surface, he declared:
“We ran over it. Pull me back slow
along the same route we just came and
T’ll signal you the minute I spot it.”

But at that moment there was a yell
from one of the men on the boat.

“Look!” he cried, pointing to some-
thing floating on the water.

It was the trunk!

Willing hands pulled it aboard and
tore the rope around it loose.

HE nude body of a woman was in-

side. The flesh was partly eaten
away by lime.

Taken to the morgue, it was quick-
ly identified as Mrs. Kate Mooers-
Mahoney. The autopsy surgeons found
that her head had been bashed in with
a hammer and there were 20 grains
of morphine in the stomach,

Confronted by the evidence, Ma-
honey calmly denied that it was his
wife.

“That’s not Kate,” he said. “Kate is
in Cuba. That is some stiff the cops

ing like a dog,” he said. “A man has
got a right to let off steam sometime.”

“All right, Dear, but—well, just
don’t overdo it.”

He nodded without speaking.

During the next week Jimmy was
almost aloof, seldom speaking either to
me or Marie. I set it down to pre-
occupation with his work, and said
nothing. Each night he remained out
late.

The thought that he had been else-
where but at his job never even oc-
curred to me. Then it happened.
Probably it has happened to countless
other women, and probably they, too,
have felt the same nauseating light-
ness, then the harsh press of steel
against the heart...

I couldn’t help but see it. Possibly
he wouldn’t have been so careless had
he not been intoxicated. But he was
lying in bed, soundly asleep. On the
dresser, as was his custom, he had
emptied his pockets, preparatory to
changing suits the next day. The note
was open. I could see the small,
curved handwriting of a woman. It
said:

Darling, | can meet you tonight
after all. Ray will still be in
Kingsport. Make it the Court-
house Cafe around eight or a little
after.

Julia

The: first streaks of dawn were
whitening the dark skies when | re-
alized the room had become icily chill,
that I had been sitting in the chair
for nearly five hours. Despite the
fact that a thousand things had roved
through my mind there still was no
solution, no idea of what I should do
or say. The tiny white note had
numbed every practical faculty I pos-
sessed. I tried to think rationally, but
only one thing throbbed in my mind:
“He’s not in love with you any more.
You are lost. He’s not in love with
you any more.”

Over and over, like the unchanging
clatter of train wheels spinning through
the night, the words drummed in my
mind.

When Jimmy awoke, I stood by the
dresser and dully handed him the note.

planted out there to save their face.
They want to hang me to keep from
looking silly.”

First-degree murder charges were
filed against him and on September
19, 1921, he was found guilty and sen-
tenced to be hanged on November 30.

Mahoney’s sister, Dolly Johnson, was
charged with forging the letters that
Mahoney had used to obtain his dead
wife’s property. She was sentenced to
five years in the penitentiary. She
since has paid her full debt to Society.

cy THE eve of Mahoney’s hanging,
Dolly Johnson made a futile at-
tempt to save him by confessing the
crime herself. When Mahoney learned
of this, he said:

“Tell her to forget it. I killed Kate
And if it wasn’t for that Ballard and
Tennant, I’d be out spending he:
money now, instead of waiting to
swing by the neck.”

Early the next morning Mahoney

walked into the courtyard of the peni-_

tentiary. He walked up the gallows
steps and a few seconds later dropped
through the trap to pay for his crime.

Only one mystery remained: Who
was the woman who registered as Mrs.
Mahoney with Jim Mahoney in St.
Paul? Almost two years later, detec-
tives found her. She was a St. Paul
woman and proved to them that she
did not know anything about Ma-
honey killing his aged bride. She said
that Mahoney had promised to marry
her.

And so the case was closed on the
police records through the dogged de-
termination and work of two detec-
tives, Chad Ballard and Charles
Tennant.

(Continued from Page 21)

“T couldn’t help seeing it, it was
lying on the dresser,” I told him.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth
curved nastily.

“What? You’re lying—you searched
my pockets!”

I looked at this man who suddenly
had become a perfect stranger—hard,
merciless, and somehow nasty.

“Tll prepare your breakfast,” I said.
and walked wearily into the kitchen.

I know today I still would have
fought for him, tried to win back his
love. I always have believed every
man is due one digression. To some
men, the wil] to stray is like a grow-
ing poison; to others the lure of for-
bidden fruit is irresistible—they taste
it and find the other is just as good.
I always had known that, and I was
willing to let Jimmy have his fling.

TOLD him that, and his mouth be-

came a hard line; then he spoke:

“I see, you’re trying to be noble
and forgiving and_ understanding.
thinking I’ll be a good little boy after-
wards. But you’re wrong. I'll do any-
thing I please at any time, and you
won’t do a thing about it. You know
I’m not in love with you any more. so
it’s no use playing schoolboy and
schoolteacher.”

I didn’t say anything. Somehow |
still believed that was all part of his
rebellion, that the flame of a shallow
desire soon would die out and he
would return home with the age-old,
last line: ‘Forgive me, Dear, I was a
fool.”

But in three almost heartbreaking
months I knew I was the fool, not
Jimmy. He became almost insultingly
blatant with other women, taking
them out publicly, leaving the house
every night, sometimes staying away
for two and three days at a time.

At first the:shame and ignominy he
had: brought upon me was endurable.
I still lived in foolish hopes that he
would return to me.

The next day came a faint hope.
Herbert Cawood, one of Harlan’s best-
known businessmen, had begun a
campaign for sheriff. He headed a re-
form ticket that had declared its one
intention was to wipe the city clean
of its infamous name of “Bloody Har-

AaAD—4

HE SIGNED the register as man and wife,
but the girl with him wasn’t his 72-year-
old bride. What had he done with Kate?
(Photo specially posed by professional models)

SUPPOSEDLY; HE WAS ON HIS HONEYMOON. BUT A HOTEL CLERK UPSET THIS STORY


By Stuart Whitehouse

E WOMAN across the desk
from Seattle’s Chief of Detectives
Charles Tennant was pale and her
nervous fingers, fumbling with her
coat buttons, betrayed her extreme
agitation. Z

“JT know my aunt’s been murdered,”
she insisted stubbornly. “You've got
to do something.”

Chief Tennant raised a hand sooth-
ingly. “We have no grounds, Mrs.
Stewart,” he explained again. “Your
aunt is on her honeymoon. She
sprained her wrist so her husband
wrote a letter for her. We can’t start
_an.investigation on evidence as flimsy~
as that.”

“Aunt Kate is 72,” Mrs. Carrie
Stewart protested, “and he’s only 35.
He didn’t marry her for love. He
wanted her money and now—now
he’s killed her!” She began to weep
softly. Detectives are no less sus-
ceptible to tears than other men.

“Let me see the letter,” said Ten-
nant resignedly. She withdrew it
from her purse and handed it to him.

It was on stationery of the St. Fran-
cis Hotel, in St. Paul, Minn. The
handwriting was masculine and firm. &

My Dear Carrie: Just, a few lines to
let you know -I am well and have de-
cided to go with Mrs. Atkinson to
Havana for a visit before going to New
York. I have my business settled here

THE GALLOWS rope ended the brutal
career of the killer who used the bri-
dal vows to ensnare a wealthy woman.

KISS ME, KATEY..

INSIDE DETECTIVE,

August, 1949


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a virtual monopoly on long-distance travel. That made it
easier than it is today for the olice to trace fugitives. All
they did was check with the railroads; there were no other
means of transportation, aside from boats, of course, to
worry about.

The railroads themselves added a touch that made it still
easier for the olice. They re uired the signatures an
addresses of all purchasers of tickets for long trips—such as
a trip from Seattle to California, or from Seattle to the
Middle West. There were two major rail terminals in
Seattle, and several railroad ticket agencies in the down-
town area. Ballard got help from Chief Tennant in making
a canvass of every place where tickets were sold. Everybody
drew a blank.

Now Ballard began to ask himself if his man, and his
trunk, had left Seattle at all. Had Mahoney taken the
trunk and dropped it into Puget Sound? Then had he
himself faded from sight somewhere in the murky labyrinth
along the waterfront?

Every drayag¢ company in Seattle, and every truck and
moving company, was covered. None had removed a trun
from the Sophia on the night of Saturday, March 12.

Although Kodiak Kate was widely known as 4 colorful
character, Ballard and other members of the detective force
suddenly realized that they knew practically nothing about
her family connections—an important investigative chan-
nel, now that the woman was missing. Neither did the few
acquaintances that she had in Seattle. The most interesting
information Ballard could come by was that Kodiak Kate
had sometimes made vague reference to relatives in the
Middle West and in Canada.

Ballard had an idea. He figured Kate had made a will
at one time or another. If so, her relatives would be named
in the document. Ballard consulted the woman’s attorncy-
Kate Mooers, the attorney said, had never made a will.

Ballard had a talk with the mail carrier who served the
“Mrs. Mooers used to get letters pretty regularly
from Vancouver, British Columbia,” the carrier told the
sleuth. “I didn’t notice who they were from, but I always
noticed the Canadian stamps and postmark.”

Long-distance telephone calls were considered an €X-
travagance for the rich back in 1921. Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney
Was both rich and extravagant. Ballard checked her phone
records. She had, on the Friday which Ballard presume
had been her last day on earth, made a call to a number
in Vancouver.

Ballard called the number. It was that of a Mrs. Kath-
erjne Stewart, 4 niece of the missing woman. “Aunt Kate
told me she was going to visit relatives in St. Paul, Minne-
sota,” said Mrs. Stewart.

“Don’t go out of town or anywhere,” said Ballard. “I’m
coming up to sce you.”

were on the first leg of a belated but extended honeymoon.
One paragraph said:
jim served time in prison for an offense he did not

commit. He is a very wonderful and clever man. He
has invented an air brake that the Milwaukee Rail-
road is about to give him a million dollars for. In the
meantime I am advancing expenses for everything we
are doing, for Jim is busy with plans for another
invention and has time for nothing else.

The letter was signed in ink—brown ink. “Do you,”
Ballard asked Mrs. Stewart, “have any other letters from
your aunt?” Mrs. Stewart had. All of them were written
in brown ink. “Does your aunt always use brown ink?”
Mrs. Stewart said that for some reason Katherine Mooers
would use no other color. The handwriting on the letters
known to be genuine was, Ballard had to admit to himself,
quite similar to that of the signature on the St. Paul letter.

Ballard asked Mrs. Stewart if she had ever before received

a typewritten letter from her aunt. Mrs. Stewart had re
ceived many such letters. Katherine Mooers always availed
herself of public stenographers when traveling.

Handwriting experts disagreed about the signature on
the letter from St. Paul to the missing woman’s niece. Some
said it was a forgery; others called it genuine.

Ballard left for St. Paul. The register of the St. Francis
Hotel there’ disclosed the entry—Mr. and’ Mrs. James FE.
Mahoney, Seattle—a few days after Kate had last been seen
in Seattle.

Ballard had obtained from the missing woman’s niecc
in Vancouver the name and address of a relative of Kodiak
Kate in St. Paul. He visited the relative—a middle-aged
woman. She was unaware that Kodiak Kate had been in
St. Paul. “Kate wrote and told me she was marrie i and
would visit me on her way East. That was about a month

ago. 1 havent heard from her since.’

Hotel attaches recalled the woman who had been reg:
istered as Mrs. M They were unable to describe her,
however. She had worn a heavy veil and walked on a cance.
Mahoney had explained to the desk clerk that his wife had
sprained her ankle during the trip from Seattle when the
train had stopped suddenly and pitched her to the floor of
their compartment.

The detective hunted up the hotel’s public stenographer.
She had typed the letter that had been sent to Kodiak
Kate’s niece in Vancouver. Mr. Mahoney had dictated it
and the stenographer had taken it down in shorthand, then
typed it. “Mr. Mahoney said his wife was in such pain with
her sprained ankle that she couldn't leave her room,” the
stenographer explained to Ballard. “Mr. Mahoney had
taken notes from his wife and he dictated those notes to
me. I typed out the letter and he took it away for his wife
to sign. He did the same with the two other letters.”

“Two other letters. What were they?”

“power-of-attorney letters. One was to 4 real estate com-

any in Seattle, as I recall, and I think the other was to
a safety-deposit company.”

“Tell me more about them.

“That's all I remember. He dictated them and then took
them up to the room for his wife’s signature and brought
them back and I witnessed them. I’m a notary.”

“Isn't it irregular to witness a signature you don’t sec
being written?”

“Well, yes, but the circumstances were unusual.”

“And Mr. Mahoney was such a charming man.”

“He was indeed.”

Ballard asked the stenographer if she kept the notebooks
containing her dictation. She did. She dug out the Mahoney
dictation. One of the Jetters—addressed to a prominent
realty firm—instructed it to turn over to ahoney rents
from several Seattle properties that Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney
owned. The second letter—to a safety-deposit box com-
pany—instructed it to give Mahoney a key to # box long
held by Kodiak Kate.

Ballard telephoned to Chief Tennant and filled him in.
Tennant stuck an immediate cover on the realty and safety-
box establishments. Ballard wasn t, of course, being fooled
about the veiled woman, OF the sprained ankle, either. He
questioned the chambermaids. One of them had seen Mrs.
Mahoney while making up the room. Mrs. Mahoncy had
been young and beautiful. Kodiak Kate, then, had definitely
not come to St. Paul.

The whole pattern of the mystery was emerging. Ma-
honey and the veiled woman had been in the St. Francis
Hotel three days. Mahoney, growing more cunning, had
been building up * case against Justice as he went along.
He had created a fictitious character to substitute in St.

‘
' paul for the woman who was in a murderer's trunk. But

he had slipped up by permitting the chambermaid to get
a look at the girl who posed as Mrs. Mahoncy, just as he
had slipped up by not using all the quicklime and rope on
the garden plot.


, Next, Ballard began to concentrate on St. Paul railroad
records of the day Mahoney and the veiled woman had
checked out of the St. Francis. There was no record of a
ticket purchase by Mahoney. There was, however a record
of a ticket purchase in the name of Mrs. James Mooers-
Mahoney—in the distinctive brown ink and in the woman's
distinctive handwriting. Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney—rather, the
woman impersonating her—had bought a ticket to New
York., Ballard had to hand it to Mahoney. The hotel and
ticket business was satanically clever.

Ballard was a perfectionist. He liked a picture to be com-
plete. All the pieces had to be there. He wanted to know
Just how Mahoney had gone from Seattle to St. Paul. Trains
from Seattle to St. Paul stopped at Everett, some thirty
miles from Seattle. Ballard examined the records of the
railroad station there. Sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. James
Mahoney were down on the records as having departed
in a drawing room for the Middle West on the Sunday
night following the Saturday night when Mahoney had
been seen outside the Sophia with the trunk. A station at-
tendant recalled a tall, handsome man of Mahoney's de-
scription having boarded the train with a veiled woman
who walked with the aid of a cane.

In May—six weeks after he had vanished—Handsome Jim
Mahoney walked into the offices of the Seattle real estate
company which collected rents for properties owned by
Kodiak Kate. Fifteen minutes later, Handsome Jim found
himself in the detective squad room of Police ‘Headquarters,
facing Chad Ballard.

“You murdered the old lady,” said Ballard.

“Prove it,” said Mahoney.

“I intend to.”

“You have nothing on me.”

“Oh no? All I need now is the body.”

“My wife is in Cuba. We separated in St. Paul. She
asked me to come back here and attend to some business
for her.”

Ballard detailed for Mahoney the circumstantial evidence
he had on him. There was the uriaccounted-for rope and
quicklime. There were the letters the public stenographer
in St. Paul had written for Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney without
ever having seen her. There was the veiled lady who had
been young and pretty according to the hotel chamber-
maid who had seen her. Why had the bride and groom
given up their apartment on the Saturday yet not taken a
train for the East until the Sunday night? “I'll tell you why,
Mahoney,” said Ballard. “You were getting rid of the trunk
with the body in it all Saturday night. Then on the Sun-
day you picked up this girl—whoever she is—who was to
masquerade as your wife.”

That wasn’t all. Prominent handwriting experts had
now pronounced the signature on the letter to Katherine’s
niece in Vancouver as a positive forgery—clever, but a
forgery nonetheless. The same verdict held for the signa-
tures on the two power-of-attorney letters, which Mahoney
was’ carrying when arrested. “We also know,” said Ballard,
“how you got around the old lady by posing as an inventor
who was about to sell a patent to the Milwaukee Railroad.
The railroad people have never heard of you.”

“Go right on talking, copper,” said Mahoney. “But don’t
forget you’ve got to have a body. You don’t have a body
and you'll never get one.”

Ballard went away talking to himself. There wasn’t the
slightest doubt that Mahoney was a murderer. But how to
prove it. Mahoney was charged with suspicion of mur-
der and kept in jail. It behooved Ballard to get that body,
wherever it was, and get it quick. Mahoney couldn’t be
held indefinitely.

Three months passed. It was August. No body. The police
had sent divers down in various parts of Puget Sound and
Lake Union to search for the trunk. The underwater men
had come up with an impressive assortment of junk, but no
trunk. The City Council was beginning to yowl about the
expense of the divers. The men in the helmets and rubber

lll:

suits became known as Ballard’s Navy, in left-handed honor
of the man who insisted murder had been done.

The chambermaid in the St. Paul hotel—the one person
who had seen the veiled lady without ‘her veil—died. She
took to her grave with her the only legal evidence Ballard
had that the veiled one had not been Kodiak Kate. There
was, of course, the handwriting declared to be forgery. But
Mahoney would be able fo produce handwriting experts to
disagree with that view. Anyway, forgery wasn’t murder.

Ballard, a hearty eater, was off his food. Newspapermen
began to needle him, He socked one reporter in the jaw.
That didn’t improve relations with the press. The Post-
Intelligeticer lowered the boom on the whole detective
force. The paper said the dicks should either produce the
body of Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney or release her husband.

Detective Ballard was brooding in the squad room one
night when the cops brought in a particularly loud drunk.
Prohibition was blighting the land, remember; these were
the days of the fresh-off-the-boat bootleg stuff. The drunk
touched off a stream of consciousness in Ballard’s mind. A
drunk. Bootleg liquor. Bootleggers. Bootleg booze in
trunks, That was it! Mahoney had moved about Seattle with
the trunk without arousing suspicion by representing’ the
trunk as containing bootleg booze rather than a corpse. :

Ballard placed himself in the position of Mahoney. Just
where would Mahoney have gone to get somebody to haul
away for him a trunk supposed to contain bootleg booze?
He would have gone down to a certain section of the shore
of Lake Union. That’s where Seattle’s bootleggers hung
out. It was the terminus for booze brought in by fast private
boat from Canada. It was a sort of illicit wet-stock exchange.
All sorts of deals were constantly being consummated in the
dead of night. There were private cars that did nothing but
haul liquor, sometimes in trunks strapped to their tops,
all over town. Sometimes a, man would buy cases of whisky
for investment, hold it until the market went up, call a
car from Lake Union, have the liquor taken to the Lake,
and there negotiate a deal.

Ballard went down to bootleg headquarters. He told the
boys there he wasn’t interested in enforcing the prohibition
law so it would be all right to talk to him. He wanted to
know who had hauled a trunk of booze from the Sophia
Apartments the previous March. One car owner spoke up.
He had.

“What happened to the trunk?” asked Ballard.

“I think the man who owned it hired a boat to. take it
to another part of the lake.”

Ballard located a man who had rented the boat. He iden-
tified a picture of Mahoney as the man who had hired the
craft. Mahoney had not brought the boat back. It had been
found adrift next day.

The detective’s next move was to have the boat owner
point out the spot where the boat had been found adrift.
Ballard now studied lake currents. He made a guess as to
where the boat had been set adrift. He sent divers down.
They came up with the trunk.

The trunk, of course, contained the body of Kodiak Kate.
The quicklime had begun its work but there was enough
of the body for identification and corpus delicti purposes.
There were 58 feet of rope—the remainder of the 100-foot
length of rope Mahoney had purchased ostensibly for
gardening purposes—around the trunk.

Handsome Jim Mahoney died in Walla Walla for the
murder that apparefitly had to happen. Ballard never did
find out who the veiled girl was. He didn’t try to. His feel-
ing was that the girl was a pick-up of Mahoney’s and that
she hadn't realized why she was masquerading under a veil
and on a cane.

Ballard went right on making the mistakes that any
sincere detective is bound to make occasionally in the
course of his work. But he knew he had the percentages on
his side. He could make many mistakes. The criminal could
make only one. Exhibit A: Handsome Jim Mahoney and
his garden, :

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Mrs. Catherine Hewitt. Kate herself admitted she
wouldn’t be adverse to marrying again. But up to 1921,
when she was pushing three-score-and-ten, the right
man had not come along.

Then she met James Mahoney.

Exactly how the meeting occurred isn’t a matter of
record, but most likely Mahoney spotted the diamond-
decked widow in the lobby of the. New Baker Hotel,
where he was staying at the time, and struck up an
acquaintance. Soon he was seen around Seattle with her
frequently, and he became a regular visitor to her flat
in the Sophia apartments. Though there was a certain
shiftiness about his eyes, Mahoney was reasonably good-
looking. Further, he was an attentive, sweet-talking
character, well versed in the art of flattery.

Kate summoned her two nieces to a dinner party to

meet her suitor, and afterward she coyly admitted she was’

thinking of marrying him.

“But, Aunt Kate,” protested Mrs. Stewart, “he can’t be
half your age Those May-December marriages never
work out!”

“Stuff and nonsense!” the widow retorted. “When two
people are in love, age makes no difference.”

“Another thing,” pointed out Mrs. Hewitt. “You just
met him a few weeks ago. What do you know about him?
How do you know he isn’t a—well, an ex-convict?”

“Ridiculous!” Kate snapped. “In my years in Montana
and Alaska I became a good judge of character, and I’m
sure Jimmy is one hundred percent. As a matter of fact,
he has plenty of resources of his own. He’s a brilliant
inventor and recently he perfected a new kind of airbrake.
The Milwaukee Railroad is interested—Jimmy is sure

Two of three trunks sent from victim’s apartment reached St. Paul by
train; the third showed up later—via undersea diver from Lake Union

é
3
1.


PP OT

\/  America’s foremost crime
writer selects the greatest

~ Jawman of them all... ~

Author Jack Heise owes his life to:
Matt Starwich,

A smile on his face, Matt Starwich ©
-. “poses in his deputy's uniform:
os His.‘turfls below.

IN THE BOOKS

BUT WAS ONE HELLUVA COP

by JACK HEISE

0, my junkets around the western part of the country, from Alaska to
Hawaii, covering crime stories, quite often I'll wind up in the backroom of a
press club where they sell sarsaparilla at reduced rates. In a bull session
with reporters, sooner or later, the question will come up: “Who’s the

/greatest cop you’ve ever known?”

Forme that covers about 40 years, a lot of cops and a lot of crimes. My

choice is a beer-barrel shaped, tough-as-nails little character by the name of
_ Matt Starwich who was sheriff of King County in Washington state for along
time. The fact that Matt may have saved my life once, when a cop-killer tried
to strangle me, only slightly influences this preference.

» Matt came from the coal mining town
#@ Black Diamond where he started
Winging a pick the year he graduated
Yom elementary school. Because of his
We — 5-5 on the button — he had to be
hin one of the roughest towns on the
West Coast. Husky Poles, Hunkies and
oskies who worked the pits were as
d as if they came straight up the mine
from hell below.
Life consisted of 14-hour days, six days
#¥eek, in the damp, sweat-filled pits. On
/® seventh day the miners watered their
$s with cheap whiskey in the raucous,
dust-covered floor saloons. With
ed dance hall girls, babble in a half-

Wien tongues, the men fought over
hey, cards, women and the sheer
Sure of brawling. Either you held
own or perished.

Matt's career as a law officer started

more my time. It came when Harry

® *Y, One of the West’s most infamous

colorful badmen, escaped from the
mtentiary in Salem, Oregon. Tracy
ed eight men in train and bank rob-
before he escaped and murdered
kif-dozen more during the few weeks
mwas loose the second time.
€r gunning down three members of a
» word reached Seattle that Tracy
believed to be coming over Sno-
mic Pass in the Cascade Mountains.
eWas an excellent woodsman, elusive

as a deer and could stalk a man like an
Indian guide. Ed Cudahy was sheriff of
King County at the time.

There was a $5,000 dead-or-alive re-
ward. Cudahy solicited the aid of the
miners at Black Diamond and Ravensdale
for a posse. The miners eagerly dropped
their picks and shovels for a rifle and a
few days off from the pits, with a chance
for a $5,000 prize that would be a fortune
to any of them.

Matt had not yet reached 20 but he
was with the first posse headed by a de-
puty. They set up a camp at Henry's
Switch and waited for a week in drench-
ing rain. Then, word came that Tracy had
been seen at Rockdale, less than 20 miles
away. Matt and the other miners were
already spending the five grand they
would get for taking Tracy.

Matt told me, “It was raining hard
about two o'clock in the morning. The

(continued on next page)
Sheriff Starwich points to a nickin

his ear caused by a bullet which
narrowly missed him.

"DETECTIVE CASES MAGAZINE, JUNE, 1979

4 pesuey ‘*TENOHYW

im

*226T-T-2T uo uoqsuTYse


Matt Starwich was a miner and had no desire to
when he read the letter saying,

he a lawman. But |

Don’t send no deputy up here or |

we'll send the son of a bitch back in a box’—he changed his
mind. No one, but no one, could threaten Matt and get away with it

deputy and I were about ten feet back
from the gravel road that led down the
mountain from Rockdale. The low
clouds, rain and brush made it impossible

to see more than a few yards,

“T heard a Scraping sound, like a shoe
on gravel. I brought my gun up to my
shoulder and waited. The footsteps

The King County Sheriff stands behind his two
bloodhounds, Queen and Rambler. The dogs
assisted him in many famous cases.

beige: ee
Matt poses for the c
his deputies.

28

amera with some of

é

halted, then came on again and stopped,
Whoever was coming down the road wee

cautious, listening to see if anyone was

following him.

“Then, I saw the guy. He hada pack oa
his back, a rifle under one arm and a fe
volver in his hand. It was Tracy. He was
about ten yards away. I drew a bead o@
his head. I had him cold and I was already
counting that five thousand dollars.

“IT opened my mouth to give him @

Dolly Johnson helped her brother, Jim
Mahoney, pull his “big deal.”

one
Cae 2%

ID

Cee ee oe ee
hg eo Or

shance to surrender. My gun went down.
¢ deputy had one hand on it and the
Mher over my mouth. I struggled to get
the gun back up to my shoulder. Tracy
®ust have heard us, for the next moment
disappeared into the underbrush and
Was gone.”
Matt was furious and had the vocabul-
“ty to express it. The deputy said he was
aid Matt might have missed his shot.
He said they would go back to Henry's
‘itche and get a larger posse to sur-
"und the fugitive.
_ "Surround him, hell,’’ Matt cried out
"rage. ‘I had him ‘surrounded if you'd
Pl your paws off my gun. Damnit, you
Ast let my five thousand dollars walk off
™o that woods!"
Tracy eluded the posse. He headed
kK over the mountains and killed two
Te deputies before he was gunned

down in a wheat field near Spokane.

“Thad a big mouth and I used it,"’ Matt
recalled. ‘I called that deputy every kind
ofa yellow-livered, illegitimate character
I could think of. And ] told the sheriff
what he could do if he ever came around
Black Diamond again looking for any-
body to help him.”

I can well imagine the scene. Until the
day he died, when Matt whispered you
could hear it a block away. 1 was there the
night he died. It was during World War 11
and Matt had retired as sheriff and was
superintendent of the King County Jail.
We had gone up to the roof of the
county-city building to observe the
blackout of the city. Somehow, the gutsy
little lawman got too close to the edge,
stumbled and fell off. I cried as hard at his
death as I did when my own father died.

After the Tracy affair, Sheriff Cudahy

During his tenure as superintendent of the county jail, Matt foiled an
some hacksaw blades which had been smuggled in. Here, he tries

escape plot when he discovered
one of them out on a steel bar.

sent word to Black Diamond that he
would like to see Starwich. He offered
Matt the job as deputy in Ravendale. Up
to that time, there had been no law in the
coal mining area. There was the feeling in
town that if the immigrant miners killed
each other, it really wasn’t counted asa
homicide. However, the wanton killings
became so flagrant and frequent that the
county commissioners pressured Cudahy
to establish some kind of law.

Matt turned the offer down. He was a
coal miner and so were all of his friends.
The miners had no use for the law. The
mine owners used deputies in strikes and
there had been some killings. Miners as-
Sociated deputies with scabs and strike-
breakers. _

Cudahy offered him $100 a month. It

(continued on next Page)
29

was more money, in those days, than a
foreman made and Matt was a long way
from becoming a foreman, but he still
refused it.

“You got a big mouth, kid,’ Cudahy
told Matt. Cudahy was a big man who
smoked a foul corncob pipe. He blew a
cloud of smoke at Starwich and said,
‘Don’t let me hear you calling any of my
deputies yellow, if you haven’t got the
guts to do what they have to do.”’.

Matt tried to explain that he wasn’t af-
raid, he just didn’t want his friends to
think that he was a fink.

‘*Yeah,’’ Cudahy drawled. He pushed
a letter across his desk. It was written in
pencil with a crude scrawl. ‘‘Don’t send
no deputy up here, or we'll send the son-
of-a-bitch back in a box. We got all the
law we want so keep your nose out of
town or somebody will get killed.”’

That did it for Matt. And you'd have to
know the little guy to understand it. No-
body ever threatened him that he didn’t
wade in with both fists swinging. I'd have
put my money on him in a bare knuckle
fight with a grizzly bear.

Word reached Ravensdale before Matt
got there that a deputy was being sent in.
There was a meeting in the Silver Dollar
saloon, presided over by Herman
**Crusher’’ Orsky. A man with ham-like
fists and a six-foot-three frame made out
of granite, Crusher had established him-
self as the number one brawler in town.
Just for fun, the bull-like Russian would
take on three men at a time in a free-for-
all.

When the meeting at the Silver Dollar
was well lubricated and vocal, Crusher
announced to all that he, personally,
would take care of the new deputy. The
house bought a round of drinks for the
promise. Crusher elaborated with ges-
tures as to how he would squeeze the
lawman with his hands until he was a little
ball and then put him back on the train.
That was good for another free round.

The train with Matt aboard did not get
into Ravensdale until seven o'clock on
Sunday night and a good many bottles
had been emptied waiting his arrival. He
was meton the platform by acrowd, with
Orsky in the center.

When Matt alighted, resplendent in his
uniform and badge, Orsky walked up to
him, looking down from his 6-3 to the 5-5
Starwich. He let out a bellow of laughter
and then roared, *‘What, they send
Ravensdale only half a law. We don’t
even get a whole man, only half a man?”

The crowd guffawed. Someone called,
‘What are you going to do with him,
Crusher?” ‘

Another suggested, ‘‘Hey, Crusher.
Why don’t you keep him for a pet?”

Orsky stood with his hands on his hips
looking down at Matt. Then, in a fine
display of disgust, he announced, ‘‘Orsky
can't fight no baby.”’ And with that, he
spat squarely into Matt's face.

30

Recalling the incident, Matt told me
that he couldn't recall exactly what hap-
pened but somehow he managed to reach
Orsky's chin with his fist. It came by sur-
prise and the Russian went down,

Orsky started to get up and Matt kicked
him in the belly. It was no time for
niceties and Matt had learned his brawl-
ing around Black Diamond. Grunting,
Orsky got to his knees. Matt’s foot con-
nected with his chin. Orsky was out cold
and Matt had not been touched.

Matt put cuffs on the big wrists and
flung the giant over his shoulder. Work-
ing in the mines had given him that kind of
muscle.

‘*] didn’t know what the crowd was
going to do,’’ Matt said. ‘I guess they
were so surprised they just stood and
watched.”’ It was also possible that the
bully didn’t have as many friends in the
crowd as he thought and they were
pleased to see him take a whipping.

Matt put the Russian in a vacant build-
ing the commissioners had rented as his
office and jail. In the morning, Matt took
the handcuffs off Orsky and the big man
told him, ‘You one damn good little man.
We be friends, okay?’’ Matt said Orsky
shook his hand and damn near squeezed it
to pulp and he knew why they called him
Crusher.

It was quiet in town for a week while
the miners were in the pits working. By
Sunday night, most males in town were
well on their way to getting drunk, includ-
ing a character named Lawrence
Poinznsk.

Alex Skroupa had his heel hooked in
the rail and his elbows on the mahogany
when Poinznsk came by and bumped
him, spilling his drink. Skroupa swore at
him. Poinznsk said, ‘‘F'll buy you another
drink.’’ When the bartender poured it, he
emptied the glass in Skroupa’s face.

Skroupa cuffed him alongside the head
to knock him down and then propelled

-him out of the door with the toe of his

boot. The crowd laughed, filled with raw
whiskey, and Poinznsk left, screaming,
“PIL kill you! Pll kill you!”

He was back in a half-hour with a pis-
tol. He put it flush against Skroupa’s head
and pulled the trigger. The sound of the
shot momentarily drowned out the bang-
ing of the piano. Skroupa was dead.

Skroupa’s brother, Mike, watched the
scene from across the room. He plunged
across the floor toward Poinznsk. The
second shot laid Mike’s dead body across
that of his brother.

“Who else want some?”’ Poinznsk in-
vited. Then, as he walked to the door, he
announced: “You tell that new deputy I
got a six-gun with four bullets left . If he
comes around, I'll give him all four.”

Matt was notified. He arrived at the
saloon and helped wrap up the corpses in
a canvas and stored them in the beer
cooler at the bar until they could be ship-
ped to the morgue in Seattle. He was in-

formed about Poinznsk’s threat.

The crowd followed the new deputy
out to the shack where Poinznsk lived
When they arrived, Poinznsk called ow
from the darkened shack, ‘‘You come is
here, deputy, and I kill you. 1 Kill anybody
else, too."

As Matt hesitated, somebody sug
gested they get some dynamite and blow
the shack up with Poinznsk in it. Matt
vetoed the idea and the crowd howled
They had come for action and wanted
something to happén. While the crowd
shouted and Poinznsk screamed back at
them, Matt got on a blind corner of the
shack and crawled up to the door on hig
belly. Then he jumped up and went crash

ing through the door. €

‘It was pitch black inside and ast
stumbled around, I ran into Poinznsk,"
Matt said. ‘I heard a click and my mind”
told me that he had pulled the trigger ona

defective cartridge.: -

“I had my gun and when I went in, t-

really meant to shoot him, if I had to. f
don’t know why I slugged him. I guess #
was just a brawler’s reaction. I col
cocked him with the first punch.”

When Matt came out with Poinznsk
over his shoulder, just as he had carried
the Crusher, the crowd went wild. They
carried Matt and the prisoner on thet
shoulders all the way back to town and
the make-shift jail.

It was different the next morning. Mow
of the miners did not show up to work.
Instead, they came demanding a lynch
ing. The Skroupa brothers had left wives
and family and a lot of friends.

Matt stood them off for awhile, but a
the temper of the crowd grew more ugly,
they threatened to lynch both the pn
oner and the new deputy unless they got
Poinznsk for a necktie party.

The train to Seattle was due in at (we
o'clock. Matt stalled them until it arrived
and then came out with his prisoner. He
had a rifle in one hand, a shotgun in the
other and a pistol in his holster.

‘*You dumb bastards know I mea#
business,’’ Matt warned them. “l'@
going to blow down the first guy whe
steps in my way. I got a lot of ammut®
tion and I'll use it all.”

Matt told me some time later, ‘‘Hell.!
couldn’t have shot any of those guys. Be
the bluff worked.”

The Seattle newspaper reporters
ahold of the story about how Matt had
stood up to Crusher Orsky and had taket
Poinznsk. They made a hero out of him

Starwich was never a politician. But
hadn't been a deputy long before he &*
covered politics and law are often clos¢
related. Sheriff Bob Hodges succeeded
Cudahy as sheriff and he had a beef wi
the county commissioners. On a chav
to get him out of office, a grand jury wis
convened to hear alleged evidence !
Hodges was taking bribes to keep 82
ing and prostitution wide open in B

tieellent detective work by Star-
¥ch paid off when he brought
Jim Mahoney to justice.

amond and Ravensdale. The grand jury
‘led Starwich as a witness.

Before he testified, Matt was told that
tess he put the finger on Hodges, he
wel look for a new job. When asked if

¢s had received bribes to keep the
®*ns open, Starwich told them, ‘Hell,
® And anyone who tries to close them
¥ 's crazy. If those men haven't got
ze, women and gambling to keep
fem happy, they'll kill each other out of
*tedom,”

Hodges was acquitted. But Starwich
# the short end of the stick. The county
*@missioners withdrew the money for

“lary, claiming the deputy was not

his job. There was a story in the

‘Papers about it.

Next week, the train was filled with
ts who went to town. They stormed
County commissioners’ office,

Holding a rifle, Sheriff Starwich
arrests robber Jack Bench.

Leaning back in his office chair, Matt checks
over some papers.

threatening to take it apart, stick by stick,
unless they kept Matt on the job and paid

him.

Matt became a darling of the press.
They covered a mine explosion in which
Matt went down into the mine alone and
rescued a number of miners. Later, he
brought out 32 bodies of those who had
not survived.

Another time, he was bringing in a cou-
ple of bank robbers he grabbed while fiee-
ing from Seattle. He had them on the
train With him, not even bothering to

tyr t “ LA RBA pers

handcuff them, when one of the robbers
jumped off the train. Matt threatened the
other robber, ‘*You stay on this train and
meet me at the Columbus bar in Seattle or
I'll track you down and beat your head
in.’ With that, Matt went overboard
while the train was doing about 30 miles
an hour. .

Matt lost some skin when he rolled
down a bank but he found his prisoner,
entangled in a barbed wire fence. The pair

(continued on page 39)
31


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38

gery that Wahlberg was the leader of acult
a@ young people. He had cars, boats and
gugs and he was smart, good-looking
ind populare “‘He (Wahlberg) controlled
everything around him. Ely was his town.
On the morning of the slaying he (Wahl-
tert) meant to show his two younger
companions that he could kill someone
wd that he could also get away with it.”’
On May 18, 1977 after a lengthy trial,
$e jury returned to the courtroom with a
fading of guilty for Wahlberg in the pre-
neditated hatchet Slaying of Jeffrey

Let’s Bury The Hatchet, Ole Buddy

(continued from page 37)

Goedderz. Judge Patrick O’Brien sen-
tenced him to life in prison. Members of
the Goedderz family sobbed in relief after
two years of anxiety and tension.
Wahlberg’s defense counsel expressed
shock and dismay at the findings of the
jury and indicated he would appeal the
verdict.

On May 26, 1977, Roy Wahlberg was
transferred to Minnesota's Stillwater
State Prison to. begin serving his sen-
tence. He was confined there, as of this
writing. :

walked 10 miles into Seattle where they
found the second man waiting for them at
%e bar. Matt bought them both a drink
and then marched them up to the county
wal,

“How come you waited for me?’’ Matt
wked the second prisoner.

“Hell,” the fellow answered. ‘‘I fig-
wed anybody nuts enough to jump off a
moving train to get one guy would sure as
tell keep his promise about finding me.”

Matt’s popularity with the press grew
ashe engaged in all kinds of violence. He
tained a squint in his left eye when some-
me slugged him with a pick-ax handle
turing a riot. One of the workers at the
Falls City Fire and Clay company was
«cused by an Irish foreman of stealing
Sve shovels and peddling them for whis-
ty. The lack of language communication
tetween the Russians and the Irish re-
wlited in a race riot with the other
utionalities picking one side or the other
mst to get in the thick of it.

_ Matt was called at Ravensdale. He
*tnt to Falls City with a wagon and a
Yam of horses. By the time he arrived,
there were casualties all over the place
with busted heads.
“When I got there,”’ Matt related to
®, ‘‘l parked the wagon on the bridge
foing into town. I sat there for awhile and
*atched them slugging it out. It was a
‘autiful sight to see, the way they waded

american ® CANCER SOCIETY

a

He Broke Every Rule In The Book

(continued from page 31)

into each other. It was like the battles of
the knights of old, without armor, and
with pick handles for swords. I felt like
joining them.”

But Matt had a job to do. He drove his
wagon into the midst of the brawling men
and fired a couple of shots into the air. He
told them he was going to count to three
and then shoot the next man he saw witha
club in his hand. His voice was loud
enough so they could all hear it. At the
end of the count, pick handles and
shovels began to drop.

Next, Matt told them: ‘‘I want all you
Russians to line up over there,’ waving
to one side of the town. *‘And all you Irish
to line up over there,’ pointing in the
opposite direction.

The reputation Starwich had estab-
lished at Ravensdale and Black Diamond

-must have done the. trick. There were

probably those who could not understand
English but they recognized the bantam-
sized man inthe uniform and knew that he
meant business. The train carried about
50 casualties into the hospital in Seattle
and the press had another field day.

It was the reporters who urged Star-
wich to run for the office of sheriff. He
didn’t have 15 cents for campaign funds,
but he didn’t need it. It was a landslide
and Starwich didn’t make a single speech
or offer a single promise.

He was only in office a short time when
a new kind of crisis arose. The county
commissioners told him that they had no
money to run his office or pay his de-
puties because Puget Sound Power and
Light Company had gone to court and
refused to pay taxes. The smaller com-
panies were holding out until they could
see what the decision would be in the
power company suit.

“How much do they owe us?”’ Matt
asked.

The commissioners gave him the fig-
ures.

“I'll go get it,’’ Starwich told them.
“Damn, everybody's get to pay what
they owe."’

He went to the office of Puget Sound
Power and Light company with two de-
puties. He demanded that the manager
open the vault. There was a howl but
Matt waved guns and his badge. There
was $2,000,000 in the vault. Starwich
took it all and gave them a receipt.

He took the money to the county com-
missioners and had them count out what
was owed in back taxes. Then he re-
turned to the company what was left.

There was a howl from the lawyers, but
oh how the press loved it and loved the
colorful Starwich. They quoted him as
saying that some lawyer told him he was
committing ‘‘political suicide.”

“I told them it was a wonderful way to
die,’ Starwich replied.

Matt’s biggest ifvestigation was the
Kate Moores-Mahoney case. If it had
taken place anywhere except in the re-
mote area of Seattle and given the proper
publicity, it would have become a crime
classic.

The case began when a young cowpoke
from Missoula, Montana, saved $450 and
was on his way to Seattle on a train. He
met another young fellow and they sat up
late in the smoking car, talking. The por-
ter found Elmer Fingal in his bunk uncon-
scious when the train reached Spokane.
He had been robbed, beaten and left for
dead.

Abouta year later, Fingal came into the
sheriff's office. He told Starwich he had
been in the Klondike Cafe and had seen
the man who had robbed him. Starwich
hurried down with the witness and put the
arm on a tough, young ex-con by the
name of Jim Mahoney. A search of
Mahoney produced a pocket knife with
Fingal’s initials on it. A judge laid 20
years on the ex-con for the brutal robbery
and sent him to the Walla Walla peniten-
tiary.

Mahoney had one thing going for him, a
doting mother and an adoring sister. They
devoted all of their time and money to get
Mahoney. released, and after two years
made the grade with a pardon from Gov-
ermor Louis Hart on Christmas Day on
their promise they would see that
Mahoney never got into trouble again.

Matt received word from the pen that
Mahoney was going to be released, along
with the news that Mahoney had confided
to an inmate that he had ‘‘a big deal
going’’ as soon as he hit the bricks. The
sheriff's office and Seattle police kept a
close watch on the tough thug when he
reached Seattle. They were both sur-
prised and relieved when they learned
that Mahoney's big deal was his marriage
to the very wealthy Kate Moores.

(continued on next page)
39

“4

(This picture printed through courtesy of the Thurston County Sheriff's Office)

A woman’s memory and description of these two ram-
shackle buildings, where she was attacked, was so
vivid that it took police only a few hours to locate them

off the street and mistreated at the
hands of those crazy, filthy beasts.”

“I'd like tod catch the rats,’ Heath
growled, rubbing the knuckles of his
clenched right hand. “If we could
only get one of the women to talk
we could get some details to work
on.”

“It would take a pretty courageous
woman to come in voluntarily and...”

The phone jingled at his elbow.

“Hello... What? .. . eight-thirty
at the hospital ... And she isn’t home
yet. Let’s see... it’s eleven now. You

sure she couldn’t be at friends’? Yes,
you'd better give me her description
- 4 (Hays reached out and drew a
pad to him). I’ve got it... twenty-
two years old .. . good-looking...
wine-colored dress with a cream silk
blouse ... Yes... Do you know the
license number? Thanks, we’ll start
right away.”

S HAYS hung up the phone, Heath
asked: “What now?”

“A missing woman.”

“Not kidnaped—those sex fiends—”

“For her sake, I hope not,” Hays said
fervently. “But I’m not taking any
chances. One of these times one of the
women will put up a real battle and
we'll have a murder on our hands.”

Hays shoved the second phone on
the desk at Heath. “Call the operator
and have him get hold of all the men
who are off duty and have them report
immediately.”

While Heath was calling, Hays got a
connection with the  radio-control
room. He gave the broadcaster the
description of the woman and told him
he would try to get the car license
number shortly.

Spinning the dial, Hays put through
a call to the license division and asked
them to check on a license issued to
Eric Roloff at No. 507 North Eastside
Street in Olympia.

When he finished, Heath asked:
“What’s the dope?”

Hays repeated the story he had

10

taken over the phone from the mother
of Mrs. Geraldine Roloff.

Eric Roloff, the husband of the miss-
ing young woman, had been stricken
with appendicitis and taken to the
hospital the night before for an emer-
gency operation. His wife had gone to
the hospital early on the same evening
to visit him, Hays related. She left
the hospital at 8:30 and had planned
on going to the post office to mail a
letter. She did not return to her home,
where her mother was caring for her
two children, one three years old and
the other three months old.

“The mother checked with the hos-
pital and found she left there all
right,” Hays said. “She is sure Mrs.
Roloff would not have gone any place
willingly, as she was due home to
nurse the baby. Mrs. Roloff was driv-
ing the family car, but the mother
doesn’t know. the license number.”

“Maybe she was in a wreck or some-
thing. I’ll check the other hospitals
if you’ll call the traffic division;” Heath
said.

Both phones were busy for the next
ten minutes, and at the end of that
time it was established rather con-
clusively that Mrs. Roloff had not
been in an accident in Olympia or on
any highway near by.

She was missing.

Where?

Why?

Had she met the fiend with the
knife? Was she at the moment being
subjected to some vile depredation?

Prowler cars were combing the
city. The off-shift policemen were ar-
riving and being dispatched in extra
prowler cars, while others were using
their private autos to cruise the city
and surrounding sections.

Chief Hays and Heath were in their
office directing the activity.

A little after one o’clock, as the
minutes ticked by with deadly uncer-
tainty, the telephone rang.

Snatching it up, Hays barked into
the mouthpiece: “Yes? What? She’s

Mrs. Roloff was forced at knife-point to drive this automobile
to a rendezvous from which she feared she’d never return alive

home? What’s that? ... We'll be right
over.”
The blood drained from his face, his
lips bared against his teeth in an ugly
grimace and his fist clenched on the
phone, making the knuckles stand out
in white lumps on his hands.
Jamming the receiver in the cradle,
he spun to face Heath.
“They got her! Those dirty dogs got
her!”
“Let’s get going!” Heath cried, kick-
ing over his chair as he leaped up.
With Hays at the wheel, his car

squealed around the corners and
skidded perilously on the wet pave-
ment as he thrust the throttle to the
floorboards. The night was black and
rain slanted heavily us the headlights
picked out the shortest and fastest
route to the Roloff home.

The young woman had collapsed on
a bed and was sobbing hysterically
into a pillow as her mother let the
two officers into the house. The elder-
ly woman led them to the shaking,
heaving form of her daughter.

“Mrs. Roloff,” Hays said gently,

AD—-8


Police knew that if they caught the two sex fiends Prosecutor
Smith Troy, shown here, would do his utmost to win their conviction

“will you please try to pull yourself
together long enough to tell us what
happened?”

The young woman looked up. A
purple bruise showed against the chalk
white of her cheek. She bit her teeth
into her bloodless lips until she
flinched.

Her cream-colored blouse was
torn and streaked with dirt.

With an effort that cost her the last
ounce of strength, she stifled the sobs
in her throat.

“T’ll do anything I can to help you

aD—8

catch those beasts,” she said. “It
was awful... awful’... I tell you.
It was horrible...”

She covered her face with her hands
and swayed.

“Yes, I know,” Hays soothed, draw-
ing his note-book from his pocket.
“Tell us about it if you can. The soon-
er we get the details, the better chance
we will have of catching them.”

Her voice quivering and catching in
her throat, her eyes swollen and red
from tears, the young mother with a
superhuman effort gave the officers the

i

Detectives were about to give up the long search for

. the knife rapers when they thought of looking in this
old popcorn and peanut wagon in “Little Hollywood”

details. She stopped from time to time
and it seemed as though she would be
unable to go on, but she clung tena-

» ciously to her consciousness to finish

the story.
With questions and guiding by Hays
and Heath, her story was as follows:

I-left home around seven o’clock in
the evening. I stopped at Shultz’ store
and garage and got five gallons of
gasoline and some groceries. Then I
went to the hospital: My husband was
operated upon last night for appen-
dicitis and he is very ill. They don’t
know whether he will pul! through or
not.

I. stayed with nim until about 8:30
p.m. While I was there I wrote a let-
ter to my sister-in-law, Mrs. Nana-
maker of Washtucna, Washington.

I drove ‘to the post office to mail it.

: (The post office is located on the main

street about a block from the Sheriff’s
office and courthouse and three blocks
from’ the capitol building.) I parked
my car at the curb and went inside.
When I came out I was just getting

‘into my car when a man came up be-

hind me. I had one foot in the car and
the other on the curb. It was dark
and I turned to see what he was doing.

He thrust something at my back.

“T’ve got a knife! If you scream or
‘yell I’ll cut your heart out!”

I tried to scream, but my voice froze
in my throat. He pushed me into the
car; I fell on the seat. He got in after
me and put the point of a knife against
my throat. :

There wasn’t anyone in sight on the
sidewalk. F ,

The back door opened and I saw a
younger man get in the back seat.

The man in the front seat said:

“We aren’t going to hurt you, lady.
We've got to get out of tewn in a
hurry. If you take us and don’t make
any fuss, you won’t get hurt.”

I didn’t know what to do. The blade
of the knife was against: my throat. I
looked at the man’s face. It was thin

and cruel. He had small, beady eyes,
and his face was covered with dirty,
black whiskers.

“We're escaped cons,” the fellow in
the back said. ‘“‘We’ve just busted out
of Walla Walla pen. We've got to meet
a guy, so step on it, sister, or we'll
stick a knife in your throat and take
your car anyway.”

I looked’ up and down the street.
There wasn’t anyone coming that I
could see. I thought the best thing I
could do was to take them where they
wanted to go, and maybe they wouldn't
kill me, like they threatened.

I drove straight out of town. The
man beside me put away his knife, but
the young fellow in back leaned over
the seat.and held his knife at the back
of my neck.

“Where do you want to go?” I said.

TE man beside me said: “Drive out
past the airport.”

When we got to the airport they told
me to keep right on going. They both
talked a lot while I was driving. They
bragged that they had robbed a lot of
places and were going to rob some
more places now that they were out of
the penitentiary.

The man in the front seat had a
southern accent. He said that only
suckers work and that he was no
sucker. They told me they were going
to meet another fellow who was a
member of their mob and that I would
be reading in the paper about all the
things that they would do.

I must have driven about 30 miles.
We were near Tenino when they told
me to turn off to the right. We went
up a gravel road.

“We go under two railroad tracks
and over two railroad tracks and then
turn sharp left,” the man beside me
said. I must have driven about six
miles, for I kept watching the speed-
ometer without letting them see me do
it, until we came to the second rail-
road track we went over, and I turned

(Continued on Page 51)

11

RS Tn ARE Te Ce eT


- "Lady, You Don't Dare Tell!" (Continued from Page 11)

sharp left. It was a narrow road with
lots of ruts.

I drove down this a little ways and
we came to a deserted farm. There

was a frame house and a couple. of.

small buildings. It was awful dark,
and as we drove in the yard the man
beside me told me to turn off the
lights. He made me stop the car beside
an_old tumbled-down garage.

He took the knife out of his pocket
and pried open the blade. He told me
i follow him out of the car on his
side.

It was pitch-black; I could hardly
see. I looked around to see if there
was another car, but I couldn’t see one.
I could see where the bank was where
the railroad ran by. There were no
houses close.

He forced me to walk alongside of
him to a small house next to the larger
one. He opened the door and poked
his head inside.

“What do you want?” someone in-
side said.

I thought it must be the man they
were going to meet, so I didn’t say
anything.

“Let it go, we’ve got the wrong
place,” the man with me said.

We went back to the car. He had
the knife right close to my throat all
of the time.

“Keep her in there with you,” he
said to the young fellow in the back
seat. “I’m going to look around.” He
pushed me and I fell in the back of
the car.

I sat there for a few minutes. The
young fellow started to put his hands
on me.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt
me,” I pleaded. “I’ve done every-
thing you’ve asked. You should keep
your bargain.”

He laughed. It was like a slap in the
face.

“What do you think we brought you
out here for?”

“You said you were going to meet
another man.”

“You sure are dumb!”

I could see his face a little. He had
thick, loose lips and a receding chin.
His face looked blubbery and stupid.
He was tall and strong and big.

He pulled at my clothes and I
screamed.

He put the knife against my throat
and pressed it until I thought he was
cutting me.

“Do you want to die? You know we
could kill you out here and nobody
would ever find you.”

I knew they could kill me. I thought
perhaps they would . . . and I thought
of my babies at home. My husband
was in the hospital and the doctors told
me that there was only a chance that
he would live. If they killed me, who
would take care of the babies?

I pleaded with him.

“I had a baby only three months

go,” I told him. “I’m not very strong
yet. Won’t you please let me alone?”

He laughed again.

“You want to see your kid again,
don’t you?”

He threw me down on the floor of
the car.

After a bit the older man came back.

“What the Hell, can’t you. wait,
Bob?” he cursed him. The young fel-
low let me up.

I remember distinctly that he called
him Bob.

They took me into the house. It was
dark and when one of them lit a match
I could see that there was old news-
paper pasted to the walls and it was
peeling off. It smelled musty and the
place was filthy dirty. It was a hor-
rible place to bring any woman.

I tried to plead with them again. I
told them I had done everything they
asked and they had promised not to
harm me.

The older man told me to shut up
or he would cut my throat.

“Tf we threw you out in the woods
they would never finc you,” he said.

I told them about my babies at home
and how my husband was sick in the
hospital and near death.

AD—8

“Now, ain’t that too bad?” The older
fellow sneered. He seemed to be the
leader. “I suppose your old man won't

be worried when you ain’t home on .

time. Who is home with the kids?”

“My mother is with them.”

“Will she call the cops if you aren’t
home?” :

I thought quickly. My one chance of
getting back alive was if they thought
they wouldn’t be caught.

“No. She will think I am with my
husband at the hospital.”

“That's fine. Now take off your
coat.”

I refused. He jerked the coat and
one of the buttons was torn off. It
rolled on the floor.

“If you get tough, you won’t ever
see those kids of yours again.”

I was ready to fight them. I thought
maybe I could run out into the dark
and they wouldn’t find me. Then I
thought . . . what if my husband
should die? There wouldn’t be any-
one to take care of the babies. If it
hadn’t been for the babies I would
have fought them and taken chances
on being killed. If it wasn’t for the
babies I would rather have died, any-
how, than do what they made me do.

The older man told me to take off
my clothes. I didn’t move. I just stood
there. He knelt down and ripped off
my dress.

When they were off he bit, me.

I screamed.

The young fellow stepped up close
to me and put his knife at my throat.

I stood there and the older man kept
biting me. He threw me down on the
floor. While he had me on the floor I
thought about the button being off my
coat.

I pulled a button from his shirt and
threw it on the floor. You will be able
to find it there. I thought maybe you
could trace him through a button. I
have read detective stories where they
traced criminals through buttons.

When he finished he walked outside
and the young fellow he had called
Bob came over. He told me to get up
from the floor.

I got up, but I didn’t move. He
ripped off the rest of my clothes. He
made me lay back.on the dirty floor.
For a while he didn’t do anything but
put his hands on-me .. .. He wasn’t as
mean as the older man.

I could tell they both had been
drinking. I couldn’t tell what it was,
but their breaths smelled like the hair
tonic or shaving lotion that my hus-
band uses sometimes.

He left and another man came in. I
thought that it was the third man, the
one they were going to meet. But it
was the same man who had sat in the
front seat.

He attacked me again. I noticed that
he was wearing two shirts, one over
the top of the other one. I tried to
pull another button from it, but he
held my arms. down under me.

FTER a while he called to the

young fellow.

“Want to go now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Get dressed,” he told me.

I was so weak I could hardly get
up. I had been sick the week before
with the flu. The young man came
over and helped me up. He struck
some matches and helped me turn my
clothes right side out.

They gave me all of my clothes. The
older man brought in a box of cleans-
ing tissue from the car. He left some of
the crumpled sheets on the floor.

We got back in the car and they told
me to drive back to Olympia. It had
started to rain and the windshield
wipers weren’t working. They wouldn’t
get out and fix them. I could hardly
see the road.

The young fellow seemed edgy and
nervous.

“If you try to wreck us I’ll kill you
and throw you in the ditch!” he
growled. ‘

I drove slowly and carefully.

After a bit, he said: “Are you going
to tell the cops about this?”

“You hadn’t better,” the man next
to me warned.

“I won't tell the police,” I promised.

“I know darned well you won't.”
The man beside me laughed. “Lady,
you don’t dare tell!”

My heart stopped. I wondered what
he meant. Were they going to kill me
after all?

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“Just this.” He reached down and
took the certificate of title from the
steering-post. He held it under. the
dash lamp. “This says you live at 507
North Eastside Street in Olympia. Do
you know what will happen if you tell
the police?”

I didn’t say anything.

“We'll kill your kids!”

“We'll cut their throats!” the man
in the back added.

| NEARLY drove off the road when
they said that.

“It scares you, doesn’t it? Well, just
don’t forget. When you think about
calling the cops just think about those
kids of yours. They wouldn’t look very
nice with their throats cut, would
they?”

“I: promise you I won’t call the po-
lice,” I said. The tears were in my
eyes and I could hardly see the road
to drive.

Before we got to Olympia the man

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“I Talked with God"

(Yes, I Did—Actually and Literally)

and, as a result of that little talk with God some
ten years ago, a strange new Power came into my
life. After 43 years of horrible, sickening, dismal
failure, this strange Power brought to me a sense

*| of overwhelming victory, and I have been-over-

coming every undesirable condition of my life
ever since. What a change it was. Now—lI have
credit at more than one bank, I own a beautiful
home, drive a lovely car, own a newspaper and a
large office building, and my wife and family are
amply provided for after I leave for shores un-
known, In addition to these material benefits, I
have a sweet peace in my life. I am happy as
happy can be. No circumstance ever upsets me,
for I have learned how to draw upon the invis-

ible God-Law, under any and all circumstances.

You, too, may find and use the same stagger-
ing Power of the God-Law that I use. It can
bring to you, too, whatever things are right and
proper for youto-have. Do you believe this? It
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century. And the same Power I use is here for
your use, too. I'll be glad to tell you about it.
All information about this experience will be
sent you free, of course. The address again—
Dr. Frank B. Robinson, Dept. 81, Moscow,
Idaho, Advt. Copyright 1939 Frank B. Robinson.

~~, —_

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51


beside me took my purse. He emptied
it out on the seat. There was a dollar
bill, two quarters, some small change
and some tax tokens. He put it all in
his pocket.

As we came in town, he said:

“You can let us off in front of the
Governor Hotel.’

I stopped in front of the hotel. As
they got out, they both said:

“Don’t forget about your kids. One
peep out of you and they are ‘gon-
ners’.”

I saw them run down the street to-
ward the railroad yards.

I sat in the car for a few minutes. I

didn’t know whether I should go to‘

the police station or not. I was afraid
they might see me and go to my house.
I remembered what they had said
about my babiés and I drove home as
fast as I could. I told my mother what
had happened and she called you.

AS THE young mother finished she
collapsed completely, sobbing hys-
terically.

Her mother and Hays tried to com-
fort her, but she became even more
hysterical.

“Call an ambulance,” Hays ordered
Heath. Then, to the the girl’s mother,
he said: “Your daughter is one of the
bravest women I have ever seen. To
go through an ordeal like that and
then fight for control long enough to
give us the details so we can try to
catch the men .. . it is one of the
greatest exhibitions of grit that I ever
hope to witness. I’ll get those men if
it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Hays put in a call to Headquarters.
Before leaving, he told the girl’s
mother:

“TI have your place completely sur-
rounded by my men. You need have
no fear that those fiends will harm the
children.”

Deputies Ed Sterns and Frank Ken-
ney of the Sheriff’s office were wait-
ing in Hay’s office.

Hays took out his notebook.

“Here’s what we've got, fellows. The
men took Mrs. Roloff to a place that’s
near Tenino. It is down a graveled
road that turns off to the right. She
said she drove about six miles and they
went under two railroad tracks and
over two railroad tracks, turning
sharply to the left at the last set of
tracks.”

Heath spread a map’‘on the table.

“This must be it.” He pointed to a
road leading to Grand Mound. “Look,
the Northern Pacific has tracks going
through there. It would be the rail-
road tracks she spoke of.”

“We'd better go out and look. She
said she pulled a button off the guy’s
shirt. If we get them, that button will
be the thing that will convict them.”

He thumbed a page in the notebook
and said:

“Here are some of the things she told
us about the men. One of the fellows
is a youth with a stupid-looking face
and bushy hair. The other is older,
about forty, with sharp features and
small, deep-set eyes.

“The older guy has a_ southern
drawl, and they both had been drink-
ing stuff that smelled like shaving
lotion ... which might be bay rum.

“She said they ran toward the rail-
road track. The fact that they were
both dirty and dressed shabbily, cou-
pled with the bay rum, puts them in the
vagrant class. I’ll give the radio oper-
ator this dope and then we'll be ready
to go.”

Hays, Heath, Sterns and Kenney set
out in a high-powered police car to
look for the place where Mrs. Roloff
said the attacks were made.

On the way, Hays commented:
“There’s one thing about her story I
didn’t understand, and she passed out
before I could question her about it.
She said there was a man in the shed
when they got there, yet he didn’t at-
tack her, and he didn’t leave with
them. I wonder who he was.

“Yeah, and the men knew exactly
where they were going. They must
have been there before. I think we
may find something mighty interest-
=s when we locate that abandoned
arm.”

52

Through the rain-swept night and
over glassy highways, the police car
hurtled at break-neck speed. The
flashing red lights on the front and
the wailing siren cleared the road for
them as they sped on.

There were numerous false starts
down gravel roads near Tenino be-
fore the officers found the right one
that led to the, railroad tracks, but by
4:30 a. m., while it was still dark, the
powerful searchlight mounted on the
top of the police car played over the
buildings of an abandoned farm, iden-
tical with the one Mrs. Roloff had de-
scribed.

There was a shed next to the house,
and as the officers kicked open the
door, they found a man sleeping on the
floor.

“Get up out of there!” Hays shouted.

A tramp rolled off a pile of hay he
had spread on the rotting boards.

“Did you see anyone around here
early last evening?”

“Somebody was here about mid-
night. A couple of guys in a car,” the
old man said, rubbing his eyes as he
blinked into the glare of the flash-
lights.

“See a woman?”

and then hung on until the very end
to tell us about it when she must have
been half-crazy with fright and pain.

“If we catch these men, whoever
they are, we can give all the credit to
her. And the women of Olympia ought
to give her a medal for bravery, for
she very likely will have saved at
least a few of them from a similar
fate, when we catch these rats.”

“Look!” Sterns cried. “Here it is.”

He pointed to a gray button on the
floor.

“Don’t touch it until I get my camera
and make a photo so we can use it in
court when we get ’em,” Hays said.

“Anything is too good for beasts like
them,” Heath growled. ,

“When we get ’em, they may get
plenty at that,” Hays added. “Don’t
forget we’ve got ‘Smith Troy for a
prosecutor.”

His words were well understood by
the others. Troy had used the kidnap
law, which has a death penalty, and
had won death convictions in cases less
violent than this one.

Sterns came in with his camera and
flash-globes popped while he made
photos of the scene.

“Well, let’s get back to town,” Heath

June 1, 1938, issue ..
case was given under the title
Free,”
chamber, Charles McLachlan,

Wild,” June 1, 1938,

scribed.

_Up to the Minute.

IFE imprisonment was the recommendation of an Oklahoma jury

. when it brought back a verdict of guilty ‘of murder against John
Story for burning to death the third of his four wives. This case
was covered completely in the November, 1939, issue of ACTUAL
DETECTIVE STORIES of Women in
Indemnity for My Husband’s Wives,”
The electric chair claimed Adrian Miller, rapist-slayer of Alice
May Girton, in Indiana—‘“Alice May Girton and the Wandering Rapist,”
- Also executed, but by gas, was James Godwin,
who slew Donald Moss in High Point, North Carolina, last Fall. This
“So the Jailer’s Daughter Set Them
under the date of January, 1939 .
bellowing like a bull, died for the sex
slaying of little Jennie Mareno—“When the Little Girl’s ‘Friend’ Went

Up to the Minute is presented as a department in ACTUAL DE-
TECTIVE STORIES of Women in Crime from time to time to enable
readers to keep up with latest developments in cases previously de-

Crime, under the title, “Double
written by Story’s fourth wife.

» - And in California’s gas

“No. Just two men. They fooled
around for a while and then left. One
of them talked to me. He said they
were looking for a place to sleep, but
the big house leaked and I had the
shed, so they left.”

“Didn’t you hear a woman scream?”

“I thought I heard something, but I
didn’t want to butt in. They weren’t
hurting me any. I just came in here
to sleep. It is kind of a jungle camp
for hoboes.”

“Did you notice anything particular
about the men?” :

“The older guy talked to me. He had
kind of a southern drawl.” -

The officers questioned the old man
further, but he stuck-to his story.

They walked into the big house.
Under the beams of their hand-torches
they saw the sheets of cleansing tissue
that Mrs. Roloff had told them about.
It was the right place beyond a doubt.

“We've got to find that button she
pei off the older fellow’s shirt,” Hays
said.

The officers went down ‘on their
hands and knees, throwing the light
on the litter and dirt on the floor
that covered the rough boards. :

“Here’s a button!” Kenney cried.

It was a large brown button.

“The wrong one,” Hays said. “That’s
the one she said came off her coat.
We want a smaller one that came
from his shirt. She said it was a heavy

work-shirt. It would likely be a gray

button.”

As they continued the search, Hays
said:

“T can’t get over the bravery of that
woman. Even in the stress of the tor-
ture she suffered at those devils’ hands,
she had presence of mind to rip a but-
ton from his shirt.

“She kept her head and remembered
everything she could about them, even
the mileage of the trip out here,

said. “We can’t convict the guys until
we get them.”

The officers returned to their car,
taking with them the old man they
had found sleeping in the shack. The
ride back to Olympia was as fast and
dangerous as the trip out.

When they arrived at Headquarters,
the cells were filled with suspects that
had been rounded up. There were 25
seedy characters all waiting to be in-
spected.

They were led out, one at a time,
and questioned. But not one exactly
fitted the descriptions given by Mrs.
Roloff, or was missing the particular
button from his shirt or had the south-
ern accent.

“Keep ’em rolling in here,’ Hays
ordered. “I know you boys haven’t
had any sleep, and neither have I.
But everybody on the force is going
to keep working until we get these
guys.”

Hays sent telegrams to every town
in the state giving as complete de-
scriptions as possible and asking that
all suspicious characters be locked up
until they could be examined. He left
orders that freight trains should be
searched in the event the men were
trying to make an escape by that
means.

T WAS nearly eight o’clock in the

Serene when the last orders were
out.
“How about coffee?” Heath sug-
gested.

“After, I go down and go through
‘Little Hollywood’ personally,” Hays
told him. “You fellows coming?”

Sterns, Kenney and Heath readily
declared they would put off breakfast
until after the search.

Little Hollywood is the name given
to Olympia’s shanty-town along the

railroad tracks close to the ‘tideflats -

where vagrants have. built sheds and
shacks,

The group of officers banged through
shanty after shanty, only to find the
occupants already rounded up by the
other officers who had been working
all night picking up suspects.

“I guess the boys have cleaned them
out pretty well,” Heath declared.

They were about to give up and go
uptown for breakfast, when Hays spied
an old peanut wagon sitting out in the
open. It seemed an impossible place
for anyone to hide, but as Hays walked
past he leaped up to the opening that
had been the counter and looked in.

Two men were stretched on the floor.

“Hey!” he cried.

The other officers came running.
Locating a door on the back, they
jerked it open and pulled the two men
out.

One was a man of about 40, with a
thin face covered with whiskers. The
other was a bushy-haired youth.

“What’n Hell you doing in there?”
Hays said. :

“Sleeping off a drunk,” the older
fellow snarled out of the corner of his
mouth. “What’s it to you?”

“What’ve you been drinking?” Then
smelling the stuff on their breaths,
he snapped: “Bay Rum!”

“Yeah, we all got ourselves a might
drunk last night, I reckon,” the older
man drawled.

H4xs seized him by the throat.
“You’ve done more than get your-
selves drunk, you filthy pigs!”

As he let go of him, the man cringed
away. Hays reached in his pocket.

“This button looks like it might have
come off the pocket of your shirt.”

He held the button to the spot where
a button was missing on the man’s
shirt. He was wearing a heavy work-
shirt over a filthy linen shirt.

At Headquarters they had the man
with the missing shirt button speak
before the old man they had found in
the shed.

“That’s him,” the old man said posi-
tively: “That’s the fellow.”

Hays called in Prosecutor Smith
Troy, Harry C. Huse, chief of the State
Highway Patrol, and E. M. Moody of
the patrol.

Both suspects denied knowing any-
thing about the crimes against Mrs.
Roloff, but the older man, who gave
his name as Jack Marable, said that he
had been working laying track on the
Northern Pacific and at a spot not more
than a quarter of a mile from the place
where Mrs. Roloff had been taken.

When he was finger-printed he ad-
mitted that he had escaped from the
Draper Prison in Alabama, where he
was serving a fifteen-year term for
burglary.

The youth gave his name as Robert
Kimmick. He said that he was seven-
teen years old and an orphan. His
father, Harry Blakeman, had died in a
fire when their home burned, and he
never had seen his mother. He said
that he had lived with foster parents
in Sayre, Pennsylvania.

Kimmick was brought in for ques-
tioning again: Hays told him that as
soon as Mrs. Roloff was able to leave
the hospital she would be in to iden-
tify them.

Kimmick broke down then and con-
fessed. He admitted they had taken
her to the farm. At first he denied the
attacks, later admitted them but
claimed Mrs. Roloff had willingly sub-
mitted and later added that they had
threatened her with a knife.

After Kimmick’s confession, Marable
confessed.

Smith Troy immediately charged
each of them with kidnaping and
on two counts of rape, one for the
actual rape and the second for aiding
and abetting the other in the’ commis-
sion of the crime.

They will be tried on November 6,
and Troy will ask for the death penal-
ty, under the kidnap law.

Mrs. Roloff was able to leave the
hospital in’'a few days and viewed the
two men, positively. identifying them.

One happy note is the fact that Emil
Roloff is recovering from his operation
and will be home and well by the time
this story goes to press.


tashington Prison (Spokane) orton.

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wool pullover sweaters in plain colors
icy patterns, .

1’s S5 and $6 Sweaters—
pea

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also fancy figured patterns,
WK. & W.—Main Floor,

rice From the

Re

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aoe "nad Gordon Hats...
SPOKANE REVIEW . Hood Shirts, Men's
Sept. 125 1930 ng... and Women’s

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s with collars attached and some nock-
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i Shirts $1.95
oreen Mood, Hallmark and

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Men's $4 to $5

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ast

GAME jp OS hy SO ATE:

APECT MURDER
VENDICT TODAY

i Areti2, 1T30
' Miller Must Hang, Get

Life Term or *'
~ Go Free.

NO 2D. DEGREE

Do Not Need to Show Who
~ Fired Shot When Ivester_
Was Slain.

COURT EXPLAINS LAW

state Attacks) Defense Claim
J} | That Poor Eyesight Ab-
solves Accused.

»

George Miller, charged with the
murder -of John Ivester, cashier of
the Railway Express company, dur-
ing a® robbery last October, prob-
ably will know his fate today. Tho
jury may get the caye before noon.

Jurors were told yesterday by
Judge Webster that it makes no
difference in the sight of Jaw
whether George Miller or his part-
nev killed John Ivester, and that
‘tis not necessary to prove pre-
meditation if they killed him during
a robbery.

Judge Webster further told the
jury that they must return a spe-
vial verdict of whether Miller
should hang or should be sentenced
‘o life imprisonment if they find
him guilty of first degree murder.

The arguments were opened late
yesterday and the caso may not go
‘9 the jury before this afternoon.

Refuses Second Degree Verdict.
Attorney J. F. Aiken asked Judgo
Webster to instruct the jury that
they could find a second degree
| Murder verdict, but this instruction
¢ “8s not given by the court. The
ourt told the jury they must find
filler guilty of first degree mur-
‘er or free him,
“If you find the assault was
omitted during a robbery it fs
ct necessary to provo premedita-
‘ion,’ It is immaterial. who fired
‘ie fatal shot,” said the judge.
“If you find him guilty of first
“sree murder you must answer
‘iether or not the death penalty
all be ftnposed. This answer must
* unanimous,”
Deputy Vrosecutor Bunge opened
*e argument for the state. He will
* followed by J. I, Alken for tho
+ fense today and  Vrosecutor
enough will then conclude,
Never Gaye Vietim Chanee,
Bunga told of the actions of
ler, of the holdup and sald Miller
(fver even told Tvester to hold up
“‘s hands, To sald G. W. Johnson,
‘clerk in the office, never heard a
“ord before the gun was fired.
‘ingo wnid Miller went to Trelenn
'h the money and Hved like a
+, '® butter and egg man,” buying
' 7 clothes,
. Tha testimony ended yesterday

wirmeneemenan

mtenetitey “Sebene: in,

H
i
t
j
} “ornings as the defenso called but
, [3 Witness and Miller did not take
; “8 Btand,
f Tawrenea Albert, county finger.
i Int expert, who aided in collect-
the evidences jn the ease, told
|, tluging Mller back from Ohto
“er tha arrest. Hoe said that Miller
1 “IM gee to play cards without his
“S08, Defense Attorney Atken
{ “"d to show that Miller has- poor
Vf Neht and could not have seen
Jory out the robbery as de-
‘bed by Johnson, the express of-

4 ; .
a

! 48TH YEAR. No, 121,

! ROOSEVELT PLAN BACKWARDS

Saloon Without Liquor Neal Goal,
. Says Rogers’ Iveclper,
CAMP RICHARDSON,

1l.—A fine old

jmorning sald to
me:

“Will, Governor
Roosevelt says he
wants to bring
back liquor, but
not the old-time
saloons, Why that
was the only
thing about the
whole business
that was worth
* : having, Roosevelt
has got it just backwards. We want
to bring back ‘the old-time saloon
with 6 per cent beer, and outlaw
the liquor,” |

Yours,

WILL ROGERS.

CUP AGHT RACE
RO VS. AMATEUR

British Stake Cash
On Paid Veteran
of Seas: +

BEST IN ISLES

But Americans Depend on
Skill of Unpaid Man
to Snare Victory. °

Copyright, 1930, by The Spokesman-

Review and North American Newspaper
Alliance, :

NEWPORT, R. I, Sept. 11.—Praise
be to the powers who are giving us
Newport for a shore background: to
the America’s cup races, the first of
which will be sailed here tomorrow!
Seagoing people are thronging the
Streets here, *

Thix One Mnkes History,

Of all the cup races, this one has
stirred up the widest interest.
Yachting ts having an increasing
vogue and the public is going in
more and mbre for great sporting
spectacles, but to Sir Thomas him-
self must be credited a good part of
the interest. The picture of that
old man, spending his $2,000,000 or
s0o—losing four times in a row—and
then coming back for more, has
caught the public fancy. His losing
four times running, and he with
never an alibi, is the’ great thing.
Not many here tonight would be
sorry to sco lim take back tho cup,
The questions for debate in this
cup raco have been ymostly on the
mechanical gadgete—the hollow
Masts, the triangular matin boom,
and soon. In former days more at-
tention was paid to the human
equation. More yacht races have
been won or lost by skillful or bad
handling than by superiority or in-
feriority in equipment,

Men Used to Ite Vitnt,

Sailing master and crew used to
he the important item, until some
American owners grow Weary of
paying all the bills and having a
Nired skipper get all the publicity,
Amateur skippers, who were also
owners or part owners, then began
to have their sharo of publicity —
that is, in this country, Across the
water they continued to hire pro-
fossional skippers for big racing
yachts,

Mr. Vanderbilt, an Amateur, will
sail the Enterprise; Captain Heard,

“HO Sit

Coal Gas Soap .

CONVERT Shi |

H

& professional, the Shamrock, Mr.
Vanderbilt has been a skillful han-
dier of big racing yachts for years;

4 Glevk, Albert sald that Miller
ald him ‘he could see, ‘but his eyes
cart when he did not wear glasses.
Found Miller Nearsighted.

I. Soss, an optometrist, testified
that he fitted Miller with glasses
ao years ago and that the tests
‘Alcated that Miller could only see
ashort distance as he is nearsight-
4, He said it would be like a nor-
sal person peering into a fog un-
san object was a-fow feet away.
Robert Hudlow, who worked with
filer at the sawmill at Newport,
oufied he had seen Miller work

alisses,

tho only hope of the,defense is
Sat the Jury might belleve that a
irtner of Miller did the shooting
ind that they might have him sent
oprison for life instead of hanging
‘im, if they decided he was only-.an
accessory to the murder of Ivester.

RARER RL ere eat OF heme atnaee dence cestnegs.

atre at the mill after he broke his|!~

Captain ITaard, as aman before tha

j

wi ake My ais Ni eA etd enti)

Eruptions.

GOOD FOR BC

Cause of Hay Fever
‘Almost Been Isola
_ From Pollens.

Strange Effect

Is Analyzed. '

- By Associated Press
CINCINNATI, Ohto, Sept, 1
sulphuric smell in coal gag h:
converted into a medicinal s
Ohlo State university. Rex
one yeafs experiments wit
Soap were reported to the 1
section of the American Ci
society today by Dr, Em
Hayhurst, professor of hyrie
New Kind of Sulphur.

He said the soap is made
new kind of sulphur discov
few years ago by the Koppe
search company while ri-

PROBE.T. B. BACII
New and Unique Sugar
* ‘Therein—Cause of Baldi ©

This sulphur resembles mod
molst clay. It differs from
sulphurs in being composed o
particles, ald of thom under s)
thousandths ef an inch in dia

Twenty-five per cent of «
was mixed with cattile sos
perfumed, At first it was
upon members of his own.
and those of a few other sci¢

* Omres Skin His,

No harmful effects appear
was then tried upon a wide ¢
oC persons, from a baby ca
machinists, and on various
Plextons. Professor Wayhur:
it was. found freo of damagi
fects to scalp, hair cr nails, o
not sensitize the skin, exce
causing slight chapping fn
instances,

“Its effeets were remarka
reported, “tm practically pit
encountered of siinpler ehror
disease hie eczema, acne and
blemishes.”

Trail Sncere Demon,

Progress toward discover
pollens the miysteriouy sul:
which cause hay fever wos ye
by Marjorie Ih. Moore and |
ki. Moore of the Swan-Myor:
pany of Indianapolis,

They have separated fro:
tracts of ragweed and other 1
substances which ‘they gal
peared to contain tha escance
irritant. These substances ace
bosed mostly of nitrogen and

The Moores plan to subdivi a
sullty substances still tust)tiy
hops of completely {solatin
irritant. ‘

New Sugar in T. RB, Gerng

Discovery at Valo of a snow
new kind of sugar In the be
tuberculosis germs was anne
as the latest step in the mm
cooperative effort of about a
of American scientitic Insti:
under direction of Dr. W
Charice White ef Washingt
run down the cause of tubere
and find a eure. It waa ce
by Dr. Rebert 7, Naterson .


rare,

”
ate
es

 Puneral services for: Wa
}be hetd tomorrow:

Oclock in the Methodist :
of; church in Mabton.!: The ‘Rev;

oe

| Moede will officiate ‘and pallbearers
{wil be L. D. Luce, Lew Evans, W; £./ §
| George Ven

he, Gano, Tee. Vari Oatin, ¢ ¥
a Ostin atid Jack’ Runyon, ‘the:

Mrs; Ira
with,

me cars begat stoys-

ll the men Slocked up. f::

“8 think By had the intentions.
‘be bhot Warring of shooting !
Mrs By’ Miller): too, but he:
bate any more shells

pany of By a

‘to Chehalis Pri.
Fc halls Pris}


ae

48TIT YEAR. NO, 122,

we maa

= aus mn a
‘ ea
4 BETTER BE NICH TO EDDY \ ty
Serve ; Ace Rickenbacker WII Ne Handy in ‘,
bt 9 P.M - Next War, Will Observes. |
‘ \ iN Nt CAMP RICHARDSON, Cal. Sevt. ve
é —_—— : és : 12.—Eddy Rickenbacker, onr ace
if . , \e of aces, who brought down 26 enenty ii
: eh 50c Special 8S planes, walked in his sleep and had Rs <tee
‘ a: : & \' a 20-foot foreed pp)
FEE Lonigee Sipser me, ony ne - Broiled Salmon Steak, * t: ¢. meeeweellanding, and
igo \e . ¢ ; “Yoracked up.
»; ; Parsley Dutter A Mi * J I agree with
ye ' ra aA YA trishane, {
c shear a 2. mn Death Penalty, Life Ph ager termed BOT
. ‘ ‘ a Cob Pac . Jdon't sell, Amert-
e: (tae j <9 | Term or Freedom Han short,-but on
Ry: Rolls or Bread and Butter td | his stand on Rick-
ce ‘ ; ‘ ® | enbacker. I he-
MY oactaeed ‘ 24 i ; Is Issue. “ileve that Eddy
+, mre . . “2, ‘ought to get an
Poe 60c Special :¢ Aipt-ltd So even break with a
3 ot 1 79 / : cross-continent
i ¢ , ast Leg of Lamb J / record or a refuel-
‘ty We: seperate : Salad , LF , BEGAN AT NOON ing champion. SC
\ Yo Tomato-Cottago Cheeso 9a ad s f ‘ ‘ tinea fa suche
=. ‘ * y ' “4 thing as a hero
v Mashed Potatoes . 4 p \ J being too modest.and I think the

. e least Ww do for Eddy fs to h
State Classes Accused as Ge uation glee bins gente ge On
sleep in. W doi nN t
Ruthless Murderer of have siether wr ond sa ai wank
, {to use him. Yours, WILL ROGERS.
4: [yester. | f gta ies

|
| :
ee HIM er PERSHING Al 10, 2
|

ttt °. . par
ie y+. Rolls or Bread and Butter +3 FF ‘i
Sede iD ; ‘st f a

J

OM ATR adenine ye isnemrneaaned

vs ous n o| COMPLETES TAS.

-. “Other Man” Involved in
Slaying. ~~ of

, Story of AsE. Fi’ Is
‘After belng out since noon, the : Done on St. Mihiel

jury trying the case against ee i
Miller, charged with the murder o 7 -
John Ivester, Hailway Express ‘ Anniversary. an
cashier, last October, had not ae

reached a verdict at 1 a. m, and
were sent to bed.

: : °
t  detke, Waueter wae shee e-( EVE OF BIREMDAY |<

EMS AOR

dict. The jury returned from dins
ner at 7:40 and resumed its deliber-
ations. During the entire delibera- she
tions {t had asked for no further In- ~ :

er "| Memoirs Tell Side of War) yt,

structions from the court.

|
|
5 | a : ey phone calls came to The Spokes- - rT * te
| ; - \f @) man-Review and to the courthouse Known by Few—Duty ju Ee aa anf
" : { ee as to whether a verdict had been A
, | shichéd. . to Veterans.
Every man who gets out of doors needs us \ Tho jury must not only determine .
sh the protection of one of these rain be { it Miller is guilty, but, under tho
J ae j n aw, must say in caso of guilty -
a The Store for Men just picked sos, pid e a \ whether he shall be put to death Ry Associated Press.
a the price is ridiculously low—$4.95, They r \ or spend the remainder of his lifo| WASHINGTON, Sept, 12.—“Twelve
bat | made of soft, pliable rubber. over fabric, 1 in prison. years ago today—yes, 123 years al-

eee « Ee ioe , . Prosecutor Greenough stood for
raglan shoulders; plaid lining. Bizes 36 nr nearly two hours before the jury, most to the hour, the battle of St.

SPOKANE REVIE! 1 ; to 46 : i | showing how the circumstantial and| Miblel was won,” General Pershing
‘ . Noo EAS Vy 0 . M P ‘ | H direct evidence dovetailed together | said. :

ss bk Think of how many times you've wished iPS ake Pe bags: the instructions of} te stt as he spoke at lls desic In

‘ 2 3 | fe the dim, quiet office that has, been

3 ; you had a rain coat—then come in todayand =” a bias Aiken told the jury that] restored to him from presidential

i et one H Miller would have been a half-wit| occupatlon—an .office rich with

g sey ssf to have told the officers what they] carved and painted reminders of an-

s : sald ho did, that they could crack] other, more stately day. He looked

4 hs neck; and to say after the shoot-| eastward over the White House,

ra ing that Ivester looked at him Hke| topped by the gently swaying folds
he ap >
THE CRESCENT §
2) ae A

® fool. of tho flag to which Jolin Persaing
Ss Attorney Dwells on “Other Man.”| has given with soldterly devotion
OS snppsmea wall, STORE FOR, a {
. is |

“The instructions show there was | 4! the years of his manbood.

J Tomorrow's sun will peer over
|

{

erent

Another man, and there must have

heen or the state would not have that far horizon to seo Pershing at
2Amitted it," said Aiken. “If you his desk us the 71st year of his lifo
tte in doubt as to whether Miller | Oren. Friends and hich officlal-
—= “id the shooting, you should resolve your bashes bibage hi 9 ater to an bel
Saat arming Glasses | ateehh nN Sac auteurs | rent captain ofthe Ward wnt
«ms j : e @ f=) ‘2 hang Miller and the other min . Nl .
sman-Review Is Rea Ls ———<————— oe ' mes in and confesses that he Victory Dicthday Present.

- led Ivester. Where will that The St. Miblel victery was a mile-

‘ter you, members of the jury?” stono in Ameriedn hister t

. Aliten sild he was appointed by| upon the eve of Tershing’s 58th
eile and had done the best ho] birthday, It was a double victory
one for him. Not alone did his lesions

_ It was just five hours after Archia| sweep away in hours an enemy

nock went to the gallows that} salient that had stood for years

osecutor Greenough began to talk. | against French armies, but the bat-!'* : ‘ PE AS:
bs had convicted Moock, and {t was] tle realized tho thing for which he| My : natin

1 78 conversational tono that No ro- had fought from the heur ho eset .

‘Sv ed the testlinony before the] foot on French soll.

D titans made his deductions in tho It was an American army, Amer: |
ty Tr case, can officered and under Pershing’
‘ N part, he said: personal command, that fought ts
wore St. Mihiel. and but fer Varshins'’s| |
vitler Had Gon Used, Snys State. Porscd, unrelenting persistence in, i
you may bo puzzled as to why pilied councils that arn intent | wn.
siglet Toulssant was 60 slow to P®ve been dissipated tn alvted rants | i :
‘entify Miller in the courtroom, TBs Men power replacements to flent
vill tell you. I belleve that the nior forelgn flags, |
., that binds such a woman is a Siar cata i ad
sadly fear. You do not have to
yieve her testimony except where
tis proven by other testimony. Her
atimony and that of others show
tier bad the big gun and did the
yrooting.

“Miller {s yellow, craven, cow-
vdly. He ts the killer who gets
a thrill out of the murder of a hu-
ran being. It ts strange, but there
ye such men,

‘Miller did not admit the shoot-
t-g because he thought he might get
. creak with the jury and get life
+prlsonment, and becauso he vio-
vid the code of the underworld In
saying John Ivester. In shooting
own John Ivester without telling

1 to hold up his hands he vio-
~ aed the code of the underworld.
gunman would not be that yellow,
4 remarkod after the shooting,
se fool just stood and looked at

a

poke

pe

cape AN AC CRY Re

aaat aware Vet

og Aenea ane = AO

ae eres

a A
vt Course Ivester Mande No Move,

‘Ot course Ivester made no move.

jnster Who was sent to his grave
y @ ruthless murderer, Has tt
se to the point in this country
‘uta man like Miller can snuftt
atthe life of a man like lvester?
tithas, we might as well turn over
‘vs government to the lawless, ‘and,
4 the Arabs, fold our tents and
weal away.

It ts such men and womem as
v4, the 12 on the jury, that stand
stween the people and the lawless.
“;and I earn what we get with
‘! Lam going to leave it to you
stto who fired the fatal shot.”
the prosecutor told of Mrs. Ives-
ie marrying Mr, Ivester, the slain
; ler, and of her blighted ro- be
ine, He said Miller did not look
4 ‘cond the pistol barrel into the |)

At naa tine pO MDa SWE OTT MOEA


2 *

_ I ———
AMPS | :
' ay, oo 4
e A ‘
| S \- .
H ~f i ,
DDEN|| «Seem | |
~¢ a=
| = . ‘v3 4
° i oe > :
s Deprive| SN 3
. ' ! we y
tmasteis ie TN
OWEN
DR. COV
TAN Ree
presentative offers :
HEN wine r
fouluy by r
panttentin, t ° ) é A
rx Weed andi} f Vf
yaster Genes)
ive the ae
wivilege oO}
f Mist wet. | ry a i t,
“Padden are | ‘ ty : u S
pold out! to i il 4 A &
bun by busepe
spel MeWuad- |
5 or be read | In All
row Is the |
he powerful | Branches ae
ittee, | |
ae. Guaranteed
all practical

MceFad-
. “This ac-|
od. Several |
from Read- |
and claimed |
re crooks, 1!

PAINLESS

tmaster ap-
he stayed in
long.”

ure the two;
e@ postmaster |
same course
bresented by

bmpel him to
tions against
fons dealing
discussed by
rs, including

FREE PAINLESS EXTRACTION

With All Bridge and
‘Plate Work
Mim,

9
ld be given’ | “ZF It Hurts, Don’t Pay
ow, “anc he -
his charges.
d recant or}

Ae
BES
DIZ NI Si {

yah ty
Second « iexon Bide.
. Over Owl Drug Store,

Wall and Rivers
Main 1553,

ans are aw-
but refused
punish him,
prepared to
gations and
portunity, \
ersonualities,” |
le welfare of

ushs
ecipe,
rome

recipe which
nye found to
ans of break-
btuculds. It
repare, conte |
tit gives real |
saded coughs}
idemics. |
24, ounces of ;
yortie and fill}
mulated Kegan]

you make
“dy than you
+ three timen|
and tastes no}

Shampoo Yourself

with

. AN e € .
Ease 4 Aen yey SJj¢z 737
aple mixture Cree erars3 WGP

t membranes |

Anonrvr the rcalp with Cuticura
Olatment. Then shampoo
with a suds of Caticura Soap
and quite warm water, Rinse
thorouc

also it is abe}
acts directly |
, thus aiding}
of the |
ta-liden |
Acs wa al

ned, |
_ known in} - :
ja cases of! There is no substitute for
a at ons. | : 4 :
; nx:'paid circulation among the
protapt reves |

> Pines Co, | permanent earning classes.
lee

istmas—9 to 6

CN INT V7
Soup, | AS

1 a wily :
* Christmas Gifts

CneleTy burvara crmeren aiieeee
wl Maa} Poi Lilies me ee he eT gion
a , ihe 6 a Se Ao od - ‘4 dias
vit AC THAD ARND8 OCHCITY Pic
“eas FO Ar Burd BOACALG WILLER
we’ 42! - Sezate
$' ; | p00
cu!’ Spokane Killer Is Executed at RETIRES $1,000,000 18 BONDS |

State Penitentiary Shortly
After Midnight,

err mnewe oto tenn be

WENT TO DEATH CALMLY

Tnnt Words Were “Goodly to

Newapuper Men and Others

Around Gallows,

WALLA WALLA, Dee, 18 (4)—~

» (Pridayi—Georve Miller, convicted
slayer of John Ivester, u Spokane cx-
press company employee, was hanged

shortly after midnight today at the |

penitentiary. Physicians pronounced
him head at 12:28 a. m.

The trap was sprung ‘at 12:15

o'clock, and physicians pronounced
‘ him dead 13 minutes later.
Meets End Calmly,

Miller went to his death calmly,
saying only “good-by” to the crowd
of prison attaches, newspaper men and
others who gathered around the gal-
lows.

Warden Long kept in touch with
Governor Hartley's office until the
Jast minute in case the chief execu-
tive decided to grant the reprieve
sought by John Caldwell, Miller's at-
torney.

Led to Gallows by Priest.

Led to the scaffold by the Rev. Fa-
ther Anthony J. Dosch, the trap was
Sprung at 12:15 a. m.

When asked if he had any last
words to say, he expressed his thanks
for his treatment at the prison.

“I wish to thank every one for the
treatment I have received while at the
prison,” he said.

The body was cut down at 12:32
a.m. Father Dosch took charge and
the burial will be in the Catholic

~ cemetery here.

Stop Light Caught Miller,

Miller paid with his lfe indirectly
because he refused to stop his auto-
mobile for a red traffic light at De-

WATSON

Beatlin Light Division's eaviest Oh-f
ligation to Ne Paid, iy
BEATILE, Dee. 11, AO--A warrant
for $1,000,000 to pay Of the rauntedponll

light division's heaviest veneral etellie] Ue A, Cham
vatlon was drawn today by City 1
Comptroller Harry W, Carroll, It wile} beduaadi it
retire $1,000,000 Jn bonds Iszued Same} mimes
Wary 1, 1912, |

The payment, out of city light reps. 3
nue, ta dn nedition to $1,246,000 prew- WASHINGT:
ous bond payments thin year sume | ate and Asuse
Lrings the total of bond Tetlremerts lp, pis
for city ght to $9,040,000. General erines tomar

the president's
Clal army of $5
to boister b
| The renuniic
j Todiana, intend
| Gia tthe $500,006,

obligations yet to be retired toval |
$447,000 and there are revenue bon«is
outstanding of $32,852,800. The lat-
ter are distributed evenly over long

periods.
| POration
are ¢

HURLEY SPEECH [ssne
TARGET FOR IRE} we

| He talc the bi
President Hooy.
Plan through a
Committee men
on the y r
soon after the q

The house bar
, we approved a mea;

idential

WASHINGTON, Dec. 17, (P)—Sen-,| 000 revo} Pi
ate democrats made the chamber ring | tamed een ng ‘a
and the galleries lean forward today | roid a te an
with charges that President Hoover | Bold Ppl ead oh
got them to help him and then sion Corpor:
elaiiied the credit through his Chamber
spokesman, ; }

Before it was over, republican in- ths sntantinete
dependents joined in lambasting the ga

Senate Democrats Say Hoover
Asked Their Help’ and
Then Took Credit. |

administration, while the regular re- Nae tection’ id
publicans listened, xerce of th

The incident which caused the dis-{
play of party fteling was Secretary
Hurley’s speech before the republican
national committce yesterday, in
which he combined high praise of the
president with the assertion the dem-
ocrats had no program. The party
leader, Robinson of Arkansas, and

A number of
Proved by a tw
membership, wer
them a proposal
be created to ald
production in na
tries, such as c
during emeryenci

troit, Mich.

A policeman who stopped him found
@ pistol in the car and took him to
headquarters for questioning, It was
found Bryan, Ohio, wanted him for
robbery, Fingerpriuts broadcast fron
ryan were recognized by a Movida
Pees offlecr ns these of & tind whittle
ed in Hpokane for the murder of John
Ivester and for whom a nation-wide
hunt was in progress,

Crime Was Brutal.

Ivester was checking the day's. re-
ecipts of the Railway Express Agency
at closing time, October 30, 19209, |
when two men. bustled in, one with |

‘ throuch = the
®% bullet from a .45

aT autonuie pistol drilled ‘hi
forehead, } oy him outri«
of the robi
a clerk,
with a
moon 4yyyy fl

au %
from the cashier's expe

enjs | br
. uli age
Man Hunt in Dozen States, j 1 related ta ec
Then started the man hunt that | LIVE HOG a PRICES LOW | uated. “i .

sent detectives and exy
operatives into a dozen states to
check on false clews, In April, 1930,
Miller failed to stop at the Detroit
traffic light.

Returned to Spokane, Miller bragged
of his standing as a gangster, readily
admitting the robbery of the express |
company, but insisted his “partner” |
did the shooting...

He
jobs”
he was a member of the

ress coinpany

£
re

racketeering j

said,
prison bars bef.

n} P

equiods captured Dim Jn JO08 after a

|
| °
!
|

he}
ey

fessions” and after a superior court | @
e Ceath penalty,
he fought desperately to escape the} ,
sentence. He sourht a new trial and}
this was denied. Then he “ppealed to
the state supreme court without suc-
cess.

“Get It Over With,”
When Superior Judge R, M.
ster finally set the date of
tion, Miller blanched,
quickly. “Come on," he sald to his at- |

torney through a forced smile, “let’s
get out of here and get it over with.”

Fearing attempts at rescue, Spo-
kane officers mounted a machine gun
on the jail roof, but it was never used,
Once some one smuyreled hacksaw
blades and a file to Miller, but they
were found, |

Dojarski Admits Wis Part.

Not far from the gallows was Frank !
Von Bojarski’$ cell. Von Bojarski ad-
mitted accompanying Miller on the
murder trip, but insisted he did not
handle the gun. He is serving a life
sentence, a

Von Bojarski was arrested in Long |
Beach, Cal., on a forgery charge last |
August. | Writing on the package |
handed Johnson in the express office |

|

A
| vi

nearly a year before resembled writing
on the man’s checks. Accused, he
confessed and was returned to Spo-
kane, where he pleaded guilty.

Until the end, Miller denied that
Von Bojarski accompanied him to the
express office.

“Go on a job with that Dutch-
man?" he asked during the man's
trial, “I'd be a fool. I never saw the
man in my life.”

If Miller left a family or any rela-

|

chairman Of the depiocratio duit devtemd
cominittes,

from the republican side with a con-
demnation of the president for not
having called an extra session to con-
sider the economic situation,

of the republican independents, con-
cluded the debate
to task for their programs, or lack of
them.

demand by Borah that the senate cut
short its Christmas recess to five days.

[tion but both Robinson and Senator
|} Watson of Indiana,

recess,

get for their
low and would
done about it,

hoasted he had “pulled 2000 || by calling attention te the kie sprez
since he was 12 years old; that || between farm

laws,
What can be done Chairman Stone! _
doesn't know, but he said today thaty}a9 ANT?
ae daa eds)
spr
and retail prices Catholic Coit

SS
i| hopes public opinion will force a cor- |
mobs and a friend of Al Capone. Only || rection. i

welght on Dec
a

cents, a 1
Magnate

Web- |) ment in “community management” in
the execu- |) which Henry Ford is

but recovered || rehabilitate. ‘the village
| Mich.,
4000 population, wa

MWarrlson of Mississippi snapped ver-

The pla ia
bal lashes at the administration, Rob- Preror,

ity for the curtai

inson charging the administration ernment, but siic
with playing politics, power to permit
Harrison accused: Wurley of at- down output fon

tempting to revive the religious trene

fu the pubtle tote
In hile references to Jolin J, Veitkeabe,

Obber privedpad
Ue Ghiaiber iach
~ : * Establishment |
Senator Borah of Idaho joined in} a natlonal econon
ion of
Establishment
of “unemployment
Would Loose

ti
for cach

should be perform
tive trade a cis

Senator Brookhart of Iowa, another

by taking both sides
The upshot of the oratory was a

There was Support for the sugges-

t the republican
Cader, sald they favored. the longer;

"arn

Board Chairman Says Spread | tliat the:

on Retail Vigures Too Great, sane
WASHINGTON, Dee, 17,
arm board thinks the prices fa

'
©. B. Denman, live stock member !
f the board, ed Chicago live h
ricus as ave $4.18 a hundre
as comp:

Ted js
h $7.92 last tate | OF

r
3 cents
t yoar; ham,
and sliced ce
ion of 9 cents, i

-——— t
ITY IS FORD'S PLAYTHING
;t

litical
the ne
SENATE DF
attempting to one
of Inkster, | Calls on Stimson for
of more than Dist
revealed today.
part of the population of the
has been unemployed for sey-

own 713 ¢

Tries to Save Village on
Verge of Ruin,
DETROIT, Dee. 17, (P)—An experi-

a community

lariye
Na


ue ow
x the
u, the
mpli-
higher
police
o for-
vr was
ctives,
yn his
crs of

Iden-
«lL be-
Chicf
mind.
rds of
ly the
George
npared
result-
ie Wal

h City
tective
igating
n their
t their
Police
identifi-
It was
It urged
Bryan.
wo. offi-
him to
uid the
an and

1 to the
sing as
‘re them.

no

From Bryan, Ohio, there was no train
west until the next morning. The two
officers were forced to wait overnight.
Then came Sheriff Regan’s warning.
“Stools” had warned Regan of Miller’s in-
tention to make a break. Miller had gotten
word to a gang with whom he was allied
in Chicago, and they were coming to his
rescue. A hurried investigation proved
the tip no idle rumor.

i aecy county jail at Bryan is no fortress
of defense. Quickly the Sheriff and the
two officers proceeded to prepare for what-
ever might happen. They secured a ma-
chine gun, They blockaded the jail en-
trance. In readiness they waited.

Shortly after midnight a car passed the
jail. After a few moments it passed
again. Then, a block down the street, it
halted. A moment, and a_ shrill whistle
piped from somewhere out of the darkness.
One of the officers, standing guard outside
Miller’s cell, saw the prisoner stiffen. The
officer stood ready.

“Answer it if you want to, Miller,” he
challenged the prisoner. “You never leave
this cell alive unless it’s with us.”

The officer displayed the gun in his hand.
At the jail door a deputy stood ready with
the machine gun. Miller sank back to his
bunk. Outside the whistle sounded again.
When it was repeated twice, still Miller
made no answer. Then the car a block
down the street started and was heard of
no more.

Next morning Miller, heavily ironed,
was put aboard — the train westward
bound. Every second the two oflicers were
on their guard. They had been warned
that Miller’s gang friends in. Chicago
would attempt his release in transit. The
officers never left their stateroom. The
prisoner was never free of his irons. The
journey back to Spokane passed unevent-
fully.

Arriving in Spokane, Miller was hur-
ried to the county jail. There the pro-
cess of questioning began, Miller earned
the name of “The Clam”, for not a word
of information could be coaxed or pried
from his lips. He denied everything and
admitted nothing. He was the iron-nerved
criminal.

Twice, as Miller awaited trial, attempted
escapes were nipped in the bud. He was
quartered with two other murderers; one
awaiting life; the other, awaiting the gal-
lows. No caution was too great with these
three men.

Then, with the day of the trial, came a
new tip. Miller’s gang in Chicago were
going to attempt his escape at the trial.
Immediately the Sheriff made ready to
cope with the plan. At Miller’s trial the

True Detective Mysteries

prisoner was constantly surrounded by
deputies. In the halls outside the court-
room deputies waited. Not once was he
even given a chance of discovering one lax
moment in his guards.

At the trial the bandit had but one wit-
ness in his defense. That witness was a
doctor who testified to that fact that Miller
had defective vision. Miller’s attorneys,
realizing the hopelessnes of the evidence
against their client, attempted to plea their
case on the grounds that his defective
vision was such that, without glasses, it
was impossible for him to see an arm’s
length away. Their hope was the slim
chance of establishing a doubt in the jury’s
inind because of the fact that at the express
office stick-up Miller had worn no glasses.

At the trial Mrs. Saint told a straight-
forward story of her relations with Miller,
his planning of the crime, and her fear of
his threats. The pawn-brokers who had
sold Miller the gun, identified him. The
sales clerk in the five-and-ten-cent store
who had sold him the contents of the
dummy package, offered her bit. From
the start Miller could hope for little. The
jury’s verdict was no surprise. Within a
few hours it came: guilty of first degree
murder. He was sentenced to be hanged.
Miller took the sentence standing.

As he was being led back to his cell, he
suddenly broke out in a rage of self-re-
proach. “I should have copped a plea to
less,” he muttered, as his guard marched
him down the corridor. “I didn’t intend to
bump off that sap. That damn gun was too
quick for me, was all, Tt had a_ hair
trigger. When L went to push it through
the wicket bars, it went off. I could have
proved that if I copped a plea to second
degree.”

ERHAPS Miller could have proven as
much. Perhaps he could have produced
the gun and showed the defective mechan-

‘ism. Perhaps, with his impaired eyesight,

he might have convinced the jury. Per-
haps many things might have happened if
Miller had pleaded guilty.

At no time since his capture and sen-
tence has Miller made a statement of any
sort as to who his partner in crime was.
The Express Company officers, however,
are still working hard on the case and it is
hoped that the guilty man will soon be
captured and brought to trial.

Regardless of what might have happened
to Miller, one thing did happen. One
thing was written the moment John TIves-
ter’s life was snuffed out—for that act
sealed Miller’s doom.

The agents of the express company had
lived up to their slogan. They got their
man!

| Ama Fugitive from the Georgia Chain Gang

(Continued from page 70)

increased by developments taking place in
Chicago at about this time.

Some time in September, 1929 my wife
filed suit against a leading Chicago news-
paper for $100,000 charging slander in
articles that appeared in that paper relating
to events in our life together during the
years of 1924 and 1925. To date, this
case has never come to trial.

Her anger still unappeased, she caused
the arrest of Merle Macbain, who was now

running my paper, for embezzlement. At the
preliminary hearing, the judge dismissed
the case with the following comment:

“The purpose of the law is not for
personal vengeance. It does not and can-
not compel a man to live with a woman
against his will.” ;

Calling States Attorney Swanson per-
sonally to appear before him, the Judge
ordered Mr. Swanson to dismiss the case.

(Continued on page 117)

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: MILLER, Geerge, white, hanged WAS (Yakima) Décember 18,

7}

1931

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hind my back. Then he slipped a noose
: a] over them and tied my wrists.”
: by ee

DARING DETECTIVE MAGAZINE,
March, 1941

on 6

of

66 HE ki
buildin

citedly"

man jumped f:

skidded to a st

way Express a:

kane, Wash.
Uniformed
detectives gath
street light. An
fast with screa:
cers piled out,
“Give us the
demanded oi a
rushed up to g
The story ws
had held up t
only a few mi:
down one clerk
partner, who
alarm. Now
sure the gum
building. The
No one had s«
Quiet-voice:
softly, “Well, \
and the grou
officers conver
the express oth
into the sales
pany next do
where a splin
one hinge.
Revolvers ai
bands of offic
Through the
went into a d
bundles and bi
The other 1
shade drawn s
They slamme:
ducked aside
from the tile fi
very official.
mentarily ex]
moved forwa!
“Drop yout
man called.
No answer
rear worked 1
the counter 7”
“Nobody he
Aikman di:
cashier’s win
through the «
look inside.
silently.


(d

Te:

in tripped me to the
- to put my hands be-
yen he slipped a noose
i tied my wrists.”

a
e

+4

66 HE killer is still inside the
building!” a voice shouted ex-
citedly as Detective Art Aik-

man jumped from the squad car that

skidded to a stop in front of the Rail-
way Express agency in downtown Spo-
kane, Wash.

Uniformed officers and_plainclothes
detectives gathered in a knot under a
street light. Another police car came up
fast with screaming siren and more off-
cers piled out, drawing guns.

“Give us the layout, quick!” Aikman
demanded of a pale young man who had
rushed up to greet him.

The story was quickly told. A gunman
had held up the Express Agency office
only a few minutes before. He had shot
down one clerk and narrowly missed his
partner, who had escaped to give the
alarm. Now the surviving clerk was
sure the gunman still lurked in the
building. The doors had been watched.
No one had seen the gunman come out.

Quiet-voiced Detective Aikman said
softly, ‘Well, what are we waiting for ?”
and the group split up. One squad of
officers converged on the front door of
the express office. Another bunch trooped
into the salesroom of the paper com-
pany next door and back to an opening
where a splintered door dangled from
one hinge.

Revolvers and shotguns ready, the two
bands of officers advanced cautiously.
Through the splintered door one group
went into a dark little room filled with
bundles and boxes.

The other men found the front door
shade drawn so they could not see inside.
They slammed the door wide open and
ducked aside. Light reflected brilliantly
from the tile hoor. Iron grillwork looked
very official. Silence greeted them. Mo-
mentarily expecting burning lead, they
moved forward.

“Drop your gun and surrender 1” Aik-
man called. “You're surrounded.”

No answer came. The group in the
rear worked into view. “Anyone behind
the counter ?” the detective called.

“Nobody back here.”

Aikman darted over to the nearest
cashier’s window and poked his head
through the opening in the grillwork to
look inside. A second later he beckoned
silently.

The others crowded forward to look.
A man ina dark suit lay crumpled on the
floor directly back of the counter. Blood
smeared his throat and face, soaked his
shirt and necktie, spread over the floor.

“Dead,” Aikman said grimly. He
wheeled and issued orders. “The killer
isn’t in the building so we don’t need all
you men in here. Most of you clear out.
Guard both entrances. Question people
outside and see if you can get a lead on
the guy who escaped from here. See if
there was a getaway car. Get that clerk
who said the killer shot at him.”

Art Aikman’s orders were obeyed with-
out question. He was the ace of the
homicide squad, a quiet man with a touch
of gray at the temples, known as the most
persistent manhunter on the force.

He hurried around the end of the par-
tition to examine the body in the cashier’s
cage. Careful to avoid the blood, he knelt
and studied the wound. Clerk John Ives-
ter had been shot in the throat by a large
caliber bullet. Powder burns showed on

FIRST AVENUE

In the fatal raid on the Spokane, Wash.,
Railway Express office, the lookout took
his post (1), the triggerman fired through
teller’s window (2), slaying Clerk John

Ivester who crumpled, X. Triggerman
then bound second clerk (3). Clerk es-
caped through door (4) to give alarm.

By ROSCOE LAING

coy Package

the flesh under the chin, indicating the
killer had fired at close range. Ivester
probably had been dead before his body
touched the floor.

“Somebody will have to tell Mrs
Ivester,” said a voice behind the detec-
tive.

Aikman looked up at the pale face of the
young clerk who had reported the crime.

“So he was married,” Aikman said
gravely. A moment later he was busi-
nesslike again. ‘Please tell me your name
and connection here, and describe what
happened. I'd like all details.”

“T'm W. G. Johnson, the junior clerk
here,” the young man replied. Then he
shook his head ruefully. “I. still don't
know everything that happened. I was
working back here and I didn’t even
know anyone had entered the room until
I heard the gun roar. I looked up just
in time to see Johnny fall to the floor
Next thing I knew, this man was running
toward me and pointing a smoking gun at
my face. I just stood still.”

Aikman nodded and waited, ‘Then this
gunman pushed into the back room and
tripped me so that I fell on the floor,”
Johnson continued. “He told me to put
my hands behind my back, slipped a noose
over them and tied my wrists. Then the
gun roared again, right above my head.”

“You mean, he shot a second time ?”

“Yes, Atine! The bullet hit the floor
right beside my face!”

Hard-bitten detective though he was,
Aikman shuddered at the utter wanton-
ness of the act. “I guess he only missed
because it was so dark,” Johnson added.
“Anyway, he went out front.”

“He went out front and gathered up
the money,” Aikman supplied, indicating
an empty money drawer. “How much
did he take ?”

“There was about seven hundred dol-
lars here.”

“Tt’s all gone now,” Aikman said drily
“Then what happened ?”

“Well,” Johnson said, keeping his voice
calm with an effort, “As soon as he went
out front I got to my feet. I couldn’t un-
bolt the door with my hands tied behind
me, so I crashed through it. Aman from
next door untied me and we called the
police. We thought the killer was still in-
side here and we watched the door. But
I guess he had already left.”

13

With the picture of what had happened
clear in his mind, Aikman set the police
machine into motion that night of Oct. 30,
1929, Still suffering from the shock of
the killing, Johnson managed to give a
fair description of the killer. He was an
average man, middle-aged, medium height
and weight, Johnson said. He wore a
gray cap and coat, his face was white
and pointed and his hair light blond.

But the manager of the paper company
next door, who had untied Johnson, con-
tradicted the clerk’s description. This
witness had seen a man inside the office
after the first shot was fired but he in-
sisted that the man had been dressed in
dark brown and that he was dark-skinned,
dark-haired. The man’s neck seemed
thick, like a wrestler’s, and his hands
were long, slender and whiter than his
face. “He looked like a foreigner,” the
manager said.

Questioning both witnesses, each of
whom had seen only one man, but cer-
tainly had not seen the same man, Aikman
finally decided that two men had partici-
pated in the holdup. The foreigner had
guarded the front door, while the blond
man took Johnson to the back room.

The descriptions were flashed to po-
lice stations and sheriffs’ offices all over
the Northwest. Aikman ordered John
Doe warrants procured and then called
in Identification Officer Turner.

i Brcaiteg’ immediately went to work
looking for fingerprints while Aikman
examined the room in front of the cage
where Ivester had been shot. Soon Aik-
man spied a dull brass cartridge case
lying on the floor in a dark corner. He
hurried to the light with it. It was a .45
caliber, army issue, with the letters
“F. A.’’ stamped on the side. The coro-
ner, who was superintending removal of
Ivester’s lifeless body, agreed that the
wound had undoubtedly been made with
a .45 slug. Aikman went into the back
room, found another .45 shell of the same
description, and with his knife dug a
misshapen .45 slug out of a jagged hole
in the flooring.

While Aikman was thus engaged, a de-
tective came in. “We haven’t been able
to find a trace of a getaway car, or any-
body who saw the killers leave.”

“Tvester was killed with ammunition
from an army arsenal,” Aikman said.
“Take a couple of the boys and go to
Fort Wright. Find the commanding of-
ficer and tell him about this, I want him
to check the arsenal for a missing auto-
matic and for stolen ammunition. And I
want a report on all soldiers who were
away from the fort this evening, either
on leave or A.W.O.L.”

The detective studied the cartridge
cases, which he intended to take along
for evidence, and then headed for the
fort. Aikman went back out front where
Turner was dusting for fingerprints. He
called the expert’s attention to a package
resting on the shelf in front af the grill-
work through which Ivester had been
shot. It was the shelf on which customers
would lay bundles to be expressed.

“You'd better go over this pretty care-

14

fully,” Aikman advised, pointing to the
package, which was about the size of a
cigar box, wrapped in white paper and
tied with a white string. There were no
stamps on it, just a handwritten address:
“To Mrs. M. B. Berry, 208 Vine street,
Vancouver, B. C.—from C. C. Colton,
White hotel, Spokane,” in blue-black ink,
German script.

“What is it?” Turner asked.

“T have a hunch this was a decoy pack-
age, brought in by the killers so the clerk
wouldn’t be suspicious, seeing two men
entering the place at closing time without
a package. The killer walked up to the
window, laid down the package and poked
a gun at Ivester.”

“And probably we can trace what’s in
the package!” Turner exclaimed.

Aikman hefted the box by the string
and found it unexpectedly light. There
was no sign that the express clerks had
touched it. The two officers gingerly un-
tied the string, careful not to smudge
possible fingerprints. They found a 15-
cent box of paper napkins of a type sold
in thousands of stores all over,the nation.
There was no sales slip or other identifi-
cation.

Masking his disappointment, Aikman
ordered Turner to dust for fingerprints,
then dispatched a detective to check the
White hotel register and to call Van-
couver, B. C., to check the address on the

DARING

package. Next, |
the handwriting,
writing expert to
the package with
in Spokane.
Aikman realiz
descriptions of the
clues—the brass
handwriting on t
he wanted to deve
Highways we
underworld com!
success. By mor
the dark lookou
trigger man wl
slaughtered youn;
caped capture. Spx

DETECTIVE


» me to follow him,

vard the Dutchman.

p him, but the Mick
pushed into the
behind.

tz,” he said.

oud, and he didn’t

earing that twisted

e always had.

s the matter, Coll?

ve been getting a

x,” the Mick said,
I'm tired of do-
vou getting all the
I'm doing my own
You can take care

mistake,” Schultz
about that,” Coll

’ got our rods. I
because I knew
lot. different with

rvs. “T just told
leaving and. going
| softly. He looked
her, and then said,

conds of deadly
stepped forward,
ther. Altogether

‘Fats’ McCarthy,
ray, Sonny Ryan,
reco, Frank Gior-

no. Seven tough
Mick himself.

Mickey, how-

for something

all?” he said.

led my hat tight-
ked over to where
Mickey, nine,” I

he Coll mob—the
rs per man New
that struck ruth-
'b which in less
ted not only by

of paid killers

was to die by
gun. ;
' to find his body

vas to go down
guns whose fire
‘oll himself was
ne booth, heavier
the Tommy gun

Tuffy Odieno :
ath in the electric

ed to a fate which
iystery.
spend the rest

Basile and may-
they and I,- The

d his eight fol-
h Schultz the cur-
The Ninth Man's
iclf a dozen mur-
of the most fas-
fork's underworld

Coll'’s mob—the
sen type before.
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*hat made national

vill be found in

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:CTIVE. Better

@ your copy} .

| Bride of Death >

(Continued from page 26)

society. Now his old attorney got to fool-
ing with me and we bet that if I get mar-
ried in that time he’d give me $2,000. If
not I give him a like amount, providing
I get married without his knowledge.

“Well, I’ve saved up $8,300 now, and
I don’t think I can make the balance in
time, so I’ve decided to seek a lifemate
that can let me have the little remaining
sum for thirty days after our wedding,
when I shall give her five times that
amount for a wedding present.”

A dashing lover from out of the West
came on the wings of a matrimonial ad,
and Catherine Clarke fell hard. That
was among the first letters, setting forth
very plainly the fact that only those with
two thousand dollars need apply. But as
time passed, and James Murphy learned
that Catherine Clarke had money, the
tone of the letters became more affection-
ate. There was one which read:

“Do not keep all the money in your bag
or purse dear, but put it under your
clothes, upon your person, your dear body.
I suppose you remember that we need. it
in cash. I’ve drawn most of mine already,
for I did not like to draw so much at one
time. Oh darling, I wish this was over
with. If you could only know how I feel
to talk to a lady about money in this way
you would see that I am ashamed. But
you will realize what this means to me
and to you too, dearie. I shall do my
utmost, love and cherish you in return
and do many things for you. You shall
know that you have found a friend and
husband that is true,

“Oh my dear: Catherine J am growing
lonely for you. Say Catherine dear, will
you bring the letters I wrote along? We
will read them over, yours and mine, and
we will have fun. That is if you have not
already destroyed them. I shall always
keep yours dear, I- think in later years
they will be nice to read again and again.

“T will close now my love. Write soon
please dear.”

That clever and endearing epistle was
signed only “Sweetheart.” Piece by piece
the plot was unfolding. Then Brower
read what was evidently the last letter to
Catherine Clarke before she took the train.
In part it said:

“I have made ready to receive you and
I'll have the proofs to show you that J
am what I tell you, and we will be mar-
ried right there and then, dear. So I am
trusting you are prepared.... Of course
you know the conditions which I have al-
ready explained to you. But dearie, as I
told you, this is a surprise to my friends,
even sister does not know it yet and I
won't tell her; and then I want that bet
with dad’s old lawyer, so don’t make no
public notice until the day we marry. By
Jove, the old boy will be surprised, he-is
so sure I'll never marry. We'll have a
joke on him, what say, Baby?

“My ambition is to make you happy and
love me. Just a minute, please, I will have
to fill my fountain pen... | You may
be sure, sweetheart mine, that I am not
lazy. I’m on the go all the time. I am
truly faithful and honest... . Many of
my friends call me “Old Faithful.” I am
not trying to brag, but just to give you
an outline of myself, and that I am really
a man. Good morning, Sweetheart.”

Sheriff Brower took the letters and the
money to Archie Moock’s cell and con-
fronted the man with the damning evi-
dence.

“You might as well confess, Moock,”

said Brower. But if Archie Moock was
guilty, he never showed it either by word
Of atte: ;

“Well, what do you think of that,” he
said when Brower showed him what had
been found in his raspberry bushes. “So
that is why Mrs. Clarke went out into
the garden before we drove away. She
didn’t’ trust Murphy after all. She made
an excuse and went out there among the
bushes. I couldn’t imagine what she was
doing, but I see it all now—she was bury-
ing her cash.” ;

“It doesn’t make sense, Moock,” Brow-
er replied, “that a woman who was dis-
trustful of a man she was going to marry
would hide her money from him and also
hide his loye letters in the same hole.”

The sheriff turned on his heel- and
walked away; the only thing left to do
was get the evidence and disprove the
Murphy story. The letters which had
been dug up in the garden were sent im-
mediately to Criminologist May, so that
if possible “he might determine who had
written them. It seemed that that would
establish beyond a doubt whether there
was a James Murphy or whether Archie
Moock had merely invented him.

The authorities had a few samples of
writing taken from the Moock home at a
later date than the first search, but even
if the two scripts should prove to be the
same, there was no positive evidence that
either of them had been written by Moock.
Mr. May called attention to this matter
and asked for , known specimens of
Moock’s writing.

In reading one of the letters which had
been dug up, Mr. May noted that the word
“except” had been used for “accept.” He
suggested that Archie Moock be asked to
write a note containing the use of the
word “accept,” and the following was dic-

_ tated to him by the jailer:

“To the Head Trustee—This will be
an authority to inspect articles for me
before I except them.—Archie Moock.”

He wrote the note just as shown above,
using the word “except” instead of “ac.
cept!” Mr. May made comparisons of
different letters with the text of the jail
note. He found more than twenty points
where they compared, There was now
no question who had written those love
letters—they were the work of Archie
Moock!

Yet when confronted with this addition-
al evidence, and even the fact that Luke
May had found traces of human blood on
his shoes, Archie Moock would not con-
fess his guilt. He still insisted that James
Murphy had drugged him and taken Cath-
erine Clarke away to her death on that
September ‘night.

“I admit I wrote the letters,” he said.
“I copied them for Murphy; he gave me
two dollars for each one I wrote. He said
he didn’t want to write himself because he
wanted to get a look at the woman he in-
tended to marry before he took the final
step. He was afraid that if he didn’t take
to her and should back out at the last
minute that she would have the letters
for evidence in a breach of promise suit.”

And Teena Moock now said that she
knew her husband had written many letters
for Mr. Murphy. There seemed no end
to the man’s alibis, and strangely enough,
his friends apparently continued to believe
in them.

ESPITE the wife’s alibis and Moock’s
protestations of innocence, he was
brought to trial in the spring of 1929,
charged with first degree murder. In open-
ing his case Prosecutor C, W. Greenough
drew a vivid picture of the manner in
which the crime had been committed.
Prosecutor Greenough said that the
fatherly, religious Moock, believing no one

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45


‘to her future
pulled some

have one

vht it best to

last I remem-

ne. Murphy,

been doped. I
lace.”

> woman’s

1 to disprove

the recital

Moock

murder

How

and Tyree

.rehie
reau

killer.

it there was
fill, although
i since the

duce the note
find Murphy.
t know what

search dis-
irted out to
Moock had

ce himself.

choice happy

~ Am

r. blue

Have $2,000

friends
n shorz, and
*, Blue eyes,

—M

. well
. but wish to

have many

For him to have planned the deed was even more fantastic
than to believe the story which he had told. He was just the
sort of a man. which a clever mail-order murderer would
select for a foil. He was ever ready to do some friend a
favor; even his religious attitude could be put to good use.
What woman would be suspicious of a religious, home-loving
man like Archie Moock, who offered to take her to her lover?

But what had the profits been? Why had the woman been
slain? In an attempt to determine these things the sheriff
communicated with the Boston police and learned from them
the pitiful tale of how, in such high hopes, Catherine Clarke
had departed from her home there. It was found that the man
who had lured her to her death had signed himself James
Murphy !

Moock, it seemed, had told the truth when he said there was
a James Murphy. Some of the letters he had written had been
read by Catherine’s sister, who said they were seemingly the
epistles of a man with high principles who had fallen deeply
in love with Catherine Clarke. He worried because he did
not have means to support his prospective wife as he desired,
although he had some fine things pictured for the future.

“He has eight thousand dollars,” Catherine Clarke told her
sister, ‘‘and all he needs is two thousand dollars more in order
to prove to a nasty old lawyer that he has accumulated ten
thousand. Then he will get a legacy of one hundred thousand
dollars from his father. He only needs the money for a few
days and I will not have to give it to him—just loan it. When
he gets his money we are going to take a trip to Europe. I

ber of that company ?

To assist in determining these points, Brower called in
Luke S. May, famous Northwest criminologist, to make an
examination of the clothing of Tyree and Moock and to scruti-
nize the hatchet which had been found. May discovered that
the single strand of hair adhering to the face of the tool had

unquestionably come from the head of the murdered woman..

Blood tests also showed that the stains on the handle were
human blood. But none of these in any way established who
had wielded the weapon so brutally.

HE best chance to identify the killer, it was thought, would
be from the correspondence between him and the murdered
woman. But here again disappointment was met, for no-
where in the effects Mrs. Clarke had left behind in the East

was there a single scratch of a pen from the man she had,

gone to meet.

Catherine Clarke’s sister remembered that there had been
an exchange of pictures, and she had seen the photo of the
man in the West. When shown a photo of Tyree and of
Moock, she declared it was neither of them.

It seemed to investigators that Mrs. Moock was in a sin-
gularly peculiar position. Could it be possible that her hus-
band was guilty of this terrible thing and that she had no
suspicion of it? She had been so willing to help in the in-
vestigation that the sheriff turned to her from time to time

in the hope that she might recall something which would. put

him on the right trail.

ok AONE TIGA NERNEY AMEE 5

SUSPICIOUS
Sheriff Floyd Brower, who inves.
tigated the case, smelled a rat
when no trace of “James Murphy?
the alleged killer, could be found.

have enough funds to help him and I am going to do it.”

Thus the plot unfolded. Catherine Clarke had been lured
to her death by James Murphy with a promise of love
everlasting and a honeymoon trip to Europe. That latter
promise was significant; it was intended, Sheriff Brower be-
lieved, to keep relatives in the East from becoming inquisitive
until the sun, rains and winds had worked their way with
the victim's dead body and it had passed all recognition. But
fate had interfered with that plan in no uncertain manner
when Grover Tyree went to pick prunes at Foothills Farm,
Greed, desire for easy money, as in nearly all such mail-
order murders, was unquestionably the motive of the slaying,
‘or the woman had not been assaulted.

But where was this cunning arch-fiend named James
Murphy? Was he a lone wolf or a member of a murderous
gang? Was Archie Moock or even Grover Tyree a mem-

’

A eeienaetet rene) ranma remem,

defective tread on one tire o
the loaned car revealed a murder
ride that-ended- with the disposal -—
of the body in an isolated gully.

“Weren't you a little afraid to let Archie go off alone at
night like that with a strange woman?” he asked.

“Archie could go to the ends of the earth with another
woman and he would come home just as pure as when he
left,” answered Teena Moock.
disbelieve. If Archie Moock had killed Catherine Clarke he
had managed to bring her right into his own house without
any suspicion on the part of his wife, and had completely
fooled her. That seemed almost an impossibility. When and
where had he carried on-this correspondence which, from re-
ports, must have been voluminous? Where had he composed
these love letters? Where had he received the return letters?
How could this have happened in his own home without his
wife knowing about it?

There had been no chance to build identical stories since the
murder, for the husband and wife had been separated within

25

A faith like that is hard’ to™

Pe


twenty hours after the murderous: deed had been done.

Teena Moock was frank indeed, and it was she who called
the sheriff’s attention to a hat-box which she said Mrs. Clarke
had left in the house when she departed. Moock had said she
took her hat-box with her on the fatal night; later he said he
found it in the car and brought it back home with him when
he came out of his stupor.

In that. hat-box was found a bank book revealing that Mrs.
Clarke had drawn two thousand dollars from her account
just before she left Boston; no attempt had been made by the
Moocks to hide that book.

“She said she had plenty of money,” said Mrs.
“We started downtown to do some shopping; she said she
wanted to look her best when she met ‘Jim.’ She had a
photograph of herself in a round frame; she tapped the back
of it and told me that was her bank.”

Two days later little Josephine Clark, living at 2507 Sixth
Avenue, picked up a broken pic-
ture frame and some scraps of
paper on her way from school. She
carried them home and gave them
to her father and he, in turn, took
them to the sheriff's office.

“That looks very much like the
frame around the picture of Mrs.
Clarke,” said Mrs. Moock, when it
was shown to her.

Then she was shown one of the
scraps of paper; on it was written,
“James Murphy, East 2217 Hart-
son Street.”

That was the Moock address!

“T see nothing strange about
that,” answered Mrs. Moock.
“Murphy traveled around a lot and > y
he has been having his mail sent
here as a sort of permanent address.
I believe you officers are honest but
you are spending too much time
trying to place the crime at my
husband's door when you should
be looking for James Murphy;
Archie never killed that woman.”

Hundreds of friends of Archie

Moock.

RICH ‘WI

ay

Moock echoed his good wife’s opin-
ion,
“Murphy’s getting away ‘with

two thousand dollars while they
try to convict Tyree and myself,”
insisted Moock, “Why don’t they
find him?”

“Could you find that side road
you turned into?” Brower asked
Moock after a long interrogation
a week after the murder.

He said he thought he could and
he took Brower and McEwen over
a long route without any results; a
route far shorter, however, according to the speedometer
on the Tyree car, than that which had been traveled on the
night of the crime.

During the excitement in the farming community aroused
by the search, a boy named Roland Lindelle remembered
that he had heard a car come into his lane and turn around
on the Saturday night of the murder. It had not rained, but
a light shower had fallen late the evening of the killing,
and there in the dust were the imprints of a defective tread
of a tire on Tyree’s car! Investigators found that same print
within half a mile of where the’ body was found, and again

beside the road at the gully. i.

Informed of these facts Moock steadfastly maintained his
innocence, and said it was plainly evident that he could not
know how far or where the car had been driven while he

26

INSIDE DETECTIVE

MARRY!

Wealthy Bachelors,

Piro ae mandy lage and well appreciace this

DANGEROUS!

Above are examples of so-called “friendship

club” ads which often are answered by lonely

men and women—a step which may lead to

sorrow instead of happy mating. Beware of
the marriage market racketeers!

‘eternal happiness that seemed heavenly to the

was tinder the influence of James Murphy’s doped beer.
It was now, the sheriff’s opinion that the murder had been
so cleverly consummated that the case hinged almost entirely
upon the killer’s handwriting. He thought that perhaps the
little pieces found by the schoolgirl might be sufficient to do
this. A known specimen of the killer’s handwriting was also
needed, and there was no way to get this unless Mrs. Moock,
if the killer was her husband, would consent to a search of
the house in which they lived. She readily agreed to this,
but all there was found was some typewritten religious tracts,
some of them put out by “Jerusalem Slim,” which suggested
that Archie Moock wasn’t as pious as he represented himself
to be. One of them read:
“Eve is evening—was and is darkness. So
difference between a harlot and any other
Not the kind of literature you would
find in the bedroom of a God-fearing
Sheriff Brower.

there is no
woman.”

have expected to
Christian, thought

PURRED on by the belief that

some other evidence might be
found about the Moock place, Mc-
Ewen and Brower began a search
of the yard. They had been im-
pressed by the fact that the pic-
ture frame and the torn letter had
been found only a short distance
from the Moock gate, and they be-
lieved this meant that Moock, or

Lat ns mad you Murphy, or whoever had killed the
aAbeniecety 4 . ‘ttle time ake
; ek woman, had had little time to take

sth ae blige the money very far to hide it. Their
tiem ea your theory was that daylight had over-
pect in a plain

taken him before he had completed
his dastardly task.

While looking over the yard they
came across what seemed to be a
recently spaded spot among the
raspberries. They started to dig,
and in a little while had turned
up $1,490 in new bills! And beside
those bills was a neatly-wrapped
package of love letters, all signed
“James Murphy.”

It was not until Brower read
those letters that evening in his
office that the full cleverness of

‘ the man with whom he had to deal
dawned upon him. Step by step,
the murderer of Catherine Clarke

: had led her on. Those who have

had no cause to come into contact
with the lovelorn and disappointed
women in this world can hardly
conceive that such a trust as was
held by Catherine Clarke
have been engendered by corre-
spondence alone. It can be said for
the writer of those letters, and for Catherine Clarke, that
they were masterpieces of their kind, painting a picture. of
woman in

Boston, so anxious for romance. Words of love and money

were skilfully combined to lure her on and on. There wa:
one which read in part:

“I left home. Mother was dead. Dad said he would give
me no money unless I married. I told him to keep his money.
A few years later, before he died, he made his will and leit
me $100,000 to be given to me when I produced a wife and
$10,000 cash to show I had made good, and he set a date,
not far distant now, so I shall have to hurry, otherwise ]
don’t get the money. At first I thought he was too hard on
me and I did not want the money at all, but I’ve now decided
I might as well have it as some (Continued on page 45)

“SEAL ED’

Wetl-te-do.

DOWE]

could

Was

=

NO.

STRONG
thoug!
Boone,
buyer for
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light was
bedroom
He open
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the sudden
From force
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held it clos:
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realized tha:
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Boone sit uy
what's the
manded, 11
sleep.
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he saw
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ter. In on
up to his
steady.
Pretty
the side
her husban
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set in a
tweed coat
smooth cur
Boone si
then the oth
beautiful w:
“other won
“Hello, 1)
Mary Boor
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her voice
an automat
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Mrs. Hal!
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by the shar;

SHE ‘


Py

would suspicion him’ because of his ex-
emplary habits, had planned what he be-
lieved would be the perfect crime, and had
made James Murphy out of thin air. By
the light of the harvest moon he had struck
Catherine Clarke down with the lath
hatchet which he had found in Tyree’s car
‘where it was always carried. Then he
rolled the body into the deep brush of the
gulch and buried the-hatchet by the stream-
bed. Now he searched the baggage for
the object. of his crime—the money he
coveted. He found the money and the
letters. He knew what to do with these,
but' the hat-box was larger. He didn’t
want to leave it at the scene of the crime;
he couldn't burn it because he didn’t smoke
and he had no matches. So he took it back
to town, driving slowly, for he had pro-
vided against everything. He hoped to
escape suspicion entirely, but, in case he
was questioned, he invented the alibi of
the doped beer. .

It was nearing daylight when he reached
home, and by the time he buried the money
and the letters in the garden he realized
he must hurry. The hat-box he decided
to take into the house, but the picture
frame he tore apart, along with one letter
he had neglected to bury, and threw into
the gutter. Then he left the car at
Tyree’s and walked back home. »

There remained one very dramatic and
damning incident which developed at the
trial. Prosecutor Greenough called upon
Moock to identify the letters which he had
written for Murphy and the places at
which they had been written. The accused
man did this very emphatically and will-
ingly. At last he came to the final one,

which he stated had been written in Man.:

itou Park. He was absolutely certain of
this; the question was asked ‘over and
over.

“I want to quote from the letter which
this man says he wrote in Manitou Park,”
said the prosecutor as he turned toward
the jury. “You may then make up your
own minds as to whether or not he has
told the truth anywhere in this trial. The
letter reads: ‘Just a minute please, I will
have to go fill my fountain pen?”

The prosecutor paused to let this sink in,

then turned to Archie Moock.

“And where, Archie Moock or James
Murphy, for you are both, did you go in
Manitou Park to fill your fountain pen!”
The voice of the prosecutor thundered
through the courtroom. The blood drained
from the accused man’s face as he strove
to answer.

“I was just kidding her,” he finally stam-
mered.

“A strange joke,” replied Greenough as
he dismissed the witness,

Since Catherine Clarke’s letters to James
Murphy were never found they could not
be presented at the trial, .and whose pho-
tograph Moock sent to her as his own was
never known. The motive established was
the lust for money. Tyree was certain he
had left his lath hatchet in the car on that
fatal night. J !

Archie Moock, who had fooled Catherine
Clarke and had doubly fooled his faithful
wife, could not fool the jury. Psalm-
singer, hypocritical prayer-monger and
disciple of “Jerusalem Slim,” he was sen-
tenced to hang. He went to his end at
the State Penitentiary at Walla Walla on
September 12, 1930, loudly proclaiming his
innocence and calling on James Murphy
to appear and save him. It may be that
Moock had told the Murphy story so many
times that he believed it himself,

And Catherine Clarke, that ybride of
death who sped toward her doom with
eager anticipation—she lies in .a Boston
grave. She is another victim added to the
long list charged against “matrimonial

' bureau” rackets, which so ‘often disguise
death under soft words of love.

“INSIDE DETECTIVE —

Texas’ Puppy
Love Murder

(Continued from page 31)

“I saw Howard, Hixie, William Lum-
mus and my two daughters, Opal and
Wanda, in John Feutral’s front yard
Easter Sunday morning,” she explained.
“I went over and told them to go home.

“Before I got there I saw Howard and
Hixie embracing while one of the others
took their picture. I scolded them, and
they walked behind the house. I fol-
lowed and caught them hugging and kiss-
ing again, That night, I told my hus-
band of what I had seen.”

few days later, the widow related,
Mrs. Tessie Pyles and Miss Essie Lum.
mus, older sisters of Hixie, stopped in
front of the Feutral home and asked about
Howard and Hixie. As they stood talk-
ing to Mrs. Feutral, the women saw the
boy and girl emerge from the woods on
the opposite side of the Feutral pasture
and go: walking away hand in hand,

“I told Austin about this, too,” she tes-
tified, “and he said he was going to tell
the girl’s father.”

THEN on May 3, Howard and Hixie

attended a party for young people ‘at
the home of Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Lummus,
parents of Hixie, related’ Mrs. Feutral.
Thinking. young William Lummus, the
girl’s brother, who had retired, was
asleep, the two young lovers entered the
boy’s bedroom and engaged in a long
period of “spooning.” William, conve-
niently, was wide awake and witnessed the
affectionate exhibition, Next morning he
told his mother of what he had seen.

A few days later Howard met at the
home of Austin Feutral with a party of
other young people who. were preparing
to go on a fox hunt. Howard soon found
himself the brunt of a thumping round ‘of
jokes directed at his childish courtship,

The boysflew into a rage and cursed’
his taunting ‘companions. Calming slightly,
the boy then boasted of his conquest and
his ability to court the girls of the com-

munity. The incident closed with How-
ard literally flaunting his “manly”
charms before his less adept companions.

Next day, Jesse Lummus stopped at the
Feutral home to seek shelter from a sud-
den rainstorm.

“Austin told him about Howard and
Hixie,” said Mrs. Feutral. “Mr, Lum-
mus became very angry, thanking Austin
and telling us he intended to forbid Hixie
from seeing Howard again.”

Did this, a thwarted romance between
two children barely old enough to know
the meaning of sex, constitute a motive
for murder?

I had already observed the superior in-
tellect of the boy, and now I wondered
if, his early development provided him
with a sense of vengeance, with a will to
murder the man who had destroyed his
opportunity to love, free and undisciplined.
Howard’s outburst that day when he pre-
pared to go fox hunting with his friends
proved he possessed a temper, and that
his love life was a vulnerable spot.

Again Howard was called to the wit-
ness stand, and again he was as calm as if
he were reciting his history lesson. Again
he said he had retired at eight o’clock on
the night of the murder. His father cor-
roborated the boy’s statement. I sighed
in despair.

Then to the witness stand came Ross
Feutral, who had slept in the Wall home
the nigh¢ of the slaying.

“Howard didn’t come home until 9 :30,”
‘Feutral declared.
- “You're lying!” cried Sam Wall, father
of the child lover, leaping to his feet and
reaching for a double-barrelled shotgun
that had been brought in by Sheriff Har-
degree.

Bedlam broke loose in the school room.
Men shouted, women screamed. A score
or more dashed madly ‘for the nearest
exit. But Sheriff Hardegree wrested the
gun from Wall and subdued the infuriated
farmer, The inquiry continued.

Whether Sam Wall recognized the shot-
gun which he had attempted to use as his
own weapon, no one knows.
had just returned from a hurried search
of the Wall home, where he found the
gun. It had been recently cleaned and
oiled, and the sheriff was unable to de-
termine if it”had been fired recently.

Feutral, continuing his testimony, vol-

e “Are you the lady who called the station house
td and Said she was being robbed of something?’

*

The sheriff.

|

Medr
the di
ard’s
“W
and ic

ard.
The
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Was:
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telling
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Could
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Howar:

Failin;
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must be
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Lummus

“How:
Hixie |
know wl!

fi do
her,” the

“Why,
on about
“Don't 5
ing behis
being jn
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“That's. ¢
ing to hi
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“Why
the field’
boy had 4

“Maybe
what doe
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made th:
shooting

“All or
handsome
anger at
tions but
that Hix:
tumbled «

“Yes |
Austin Fe
about our
I did it!”

“Dear Diary: He Says He Loves Me" (Continued from Page 27)

you about Murphy,” Brower said. “As
Soon as we can find him, we’ll let your
husband go.”

Mrs. Moock went over with the offi-
cers most of the details that Archie
Moock already had given them,
Brower from time to time referred to
his notes and asked questions to check
the story told by Archie with that of
his wife.

“Did you know that Mrs. Clarke was
carrying a sizable amount of money
with her?” he asked,

Mrs. Moock said: “I don’t know how
much, but while I was helping her
pack she picked up a picture of James
Murphy and said that she had the
money in the back of the picture-
frame. She said it was her bank.”

Nearly every detail that Moock had
given was substantiated by his wife.

Mrs. Moock volunteered: “Mrs.
Clarke left a hat-box here when she
left. She must have forgotten it in
the rush of getting everything into
the car. I found it this morning while
I was cleaning the house,”

“Let’s see it,” Brower said. “There
may be something in it that would give
us a lead.”

Mrs. Moock brought out the box.
The officers eagerly tore into it, There
were several hats, and at the bottom
was something that fixed their at-
tention.

It was a diary with a letter folded
between the pages.

Flicking through the closely written
pages, the officers learned much about
the dead Mrs. Catherine Clarke,

HE had lived at No, 327 Hunting-

ton Avenue in Boston, Massachu-
setts. Bits from the diary told about
her business of dealing in oriental rugs.
There were many references to being
“lonely,”

One entry. on January 1, 1928, read:

“Dear Diary: Here is a new year. I
am so lonely. I am tempted to write

.to that Friendship Club. Perhaps it
would be fun to have someone to write
to. I have...”

Another read:

“Dear Diary: I finally sent the letter
away today with a dollar in it, No
one will ever know, and maybe... .”

“Dear Diary: The mail-box was full
of letters today. I wonder if I should
answer them. I will read them all
Over again ,. .” .

“Dear Diary: I have always wanted
to go West. There is one letter from
a James Murphy in Spokane. He
sounds like an awfully nice man in his
letters. I have written him. I won-
der what will happen. , .”

“Dear Diary: He Says he loves me,
I sent him my picture and I have his.
He looks nice. I wonder if I am fool-
ish, but I do believe he really likes me.
He says that he will inherit $100,000
from his father’s estate when he pre-
sents himself with a wife and $10,000
in cash to show that he has been a
worthy son. He says that he has

saved $8,300 already and is now look-
ing for a wife. I have not told him
yet, Diary, but if I- decide that we
shall marry, I can easily let him have
the money he needs to get the inher-
itance.”

“Dear Diary: I told him I had the
money for him. Guess what he has
promised? He says when he gets his
inheritance, we will take a honeymoon
trip around the world. Won’t that be
wonderful. I can hardly wait. I must
sell my business and go West to meet
him,’

“Dear Diary: We are off to the West.
{ wonder what he will be really like,
His letters and pictures are so nice,
{ am sure he must be nice, too, and
ve will be ever so much in love...”

Turning to the letter, Brower saw
hat it was addressed to Mrs. Catherine
Slarke and signed by James Murphy.

“We'll be able to get a line on the
‘uy through this,” he cried, “It’s one
f the letters he wrote her.”

Eagerly the officers scanned the bold
‘andwriting of James Murphy. It
ead:

“My Own Darling Catherine: 1 am

D—12

etters as his wife had told

“Man, I don
realize it or no
is throwing the
putting it right around

counting the da
until you  arri
and do not let an
your precious self,
you keep all the money In your
purse, dear, but put it under
your clothes, upon your person...
you remember that we need it
I’ve drawn most of mine al-
ready, for I did not like to draw so
much at one time.
g, I wish this was over with.
d only know how I feel to
lady about money in this
you would see that I am ashamed.
ut you will realize what this means
to me and to you too, Dearie.
do my utmost to love and cheri
dido many things f.
u shall know that you hav.
a friend and husband that is
“Oh, my dear Cath
ing lonely for you.

ys, hours and minutes

Please be careful s
ything happen to ’t know whether you
t, but this guy Murphy
noose off his neck and
yours,” Brower

was I to know-he would
like this?” Moock cried.
riginals back.
ugh letting me
without anyone else
That’s why my wife
rite them out—Murphy
Oo be listening.”

’ Brower said with a
“It’s lucky you came clean with
m the start and your wife bears
uld be in a tough
m the evidence.”

g to Moock, Brower went
“Let’s call it a
“It’s going on

He said he felt silly eno
see them to copy,
seeing them.
never saw us w
didn’t want her
“I don’t know,’

spot right now fro

erine, I am grow-

Say, Catherine
will you bring the letters I wrote
ad them over, yours
and we will have fun. That
if you have not alre

night, fellows,’

? We will re

ady destroyed
always keep yours, Dear. .
r years they will be nice

them. I shall
I think in late
to read again

“IT have made
and I’ll have th
that I am what
be married righ
So I am trustin

ready to receive you
e proofs to show you
I tell you, and we will
t then and there, Dear.
& you are prepared.

ou know the conditions
lready explained to you.
as I told you,
surprise to my friends, ev
does not know it yet
And then I wa
Dad’s old lawyer,
public notice until
have a joke

which I have a

and I won’t tell
nt that bet with
so don’t make no
the day we marry.
on him, what say,

“My ambition is to mak
and love me. You may be
heart mine, that I am no
on the go all the time.
faithful and honest, y
friends call me ‘Old Faithful.’
not trying to brag,
an outline of myse

but just to give you
1f, and show that I
Good morning, Sweet-
James Murphy.”
ading the letter,

heart, your ow:
As they finished re

. Brower exclaimed:
“What a devil!”

t overlook a thing,’ Mc-

“He got her to get all cash

ure she’d have it on her

’d know where to look

“And told her to ke
Secret,” Collins added.

“Telling her to bring all of the let-
d destroy them after he
S_a good idea, but it
Brower said.
it may help in track-

Melvin Simon:
knowingly, he drove a killeaw#to a
fatal appointment. Read about it
in the story beginning on Page 28

person so he

ep everything
“He’s clever, in the morning.
meet here tomorrow and see what
more we can do.”

r and McEwen came
orning, the newspaper
story on the missing
Murphy and the love-murder

killed her wa
didn’t work,”
got this one and
ing him down.”

Mrs. Moock, who wa
conversation, said:
will do any good. Archi
of the letters to Mrs. Cl

down in the m
had a colorful

S listening to the & over the story, Brower said:

’*t do any harm to
the dope. Murphy’s
e’re looking for him
me out about finding
dy. There may be a
reading the papers

e wrote most

ive th wsboys
arke for Mr, ible Magis

bound to know w
since the news ca
Mrs. Clarke’s bo
chance someone
will see him.”
“Not around these parts.”
ll bet that guy’s blown so
d take six bucks to send
him a postcard. Our only hop
e may try to work the same racket in
some other town and they
on the strength of our des
how he operates.
is vo smooth to g

OUR husband wrote Murphy’s let-

ters!” gasped Brower.
“Mr. Murphy could not
He wanted to make
pression on the woman. A.
+ 80 Murphy paid him a dol-
ar to copy each letter t
’t quite the fair thing
ie wanted Mr. Murph
nm and become a good Christi
man, so he agreed to do it.
8ave me the dollar to
rch collection.”

Brower shrugged his shoulders.
guess there isn’t anythin
Murphy overlooked, H
crime so well we'll h

That racket of his
ive up unless he’s

Josephine Clark,
xth Avenue (no
€), came into the

A short time later,
living at No. 2507 Si
g that this guy relative of Mrs. Clark
e’s planned the
ave the devil’s
, convicting him—even if we

ding in the paper about
arke being killed,”

“Yes,” prompted Brower.
know anything about it?” .

“Well—I don
anything to d

arg of Mrs, Cl,

e_is if Moock saved
pies in Murphy’s hand-
McEwen said.
McEwen and Collins left
k and returned to Head-
r went into the jail
to_question Moock.
Moock repeated the story about

“Our only chanc
one of the co
’t know whether it has
oO with it or not.
I was walking near Mr.
e when I found this Piece
er and broken picture-
d the name James Murphy

Moock’s hous
of torn pap

on it, so I thought I had better bring
it in to you.”

Brower took the paper. It was part
of a torn letter, It was addressed inn
feminine hand to James Murphy, East
2217 Hartson Street,

“That’s Moock’s address,” McEwen
said.

“It doesn’t matter much,” Brower
declared. “Moock told us that Murphy
used his address in corresponding with
the woman. But that picture-frame
might lead to something.”

He picked up the broken frame and
walked into the jail tank: He showed
it to Moock. -

“Does this look like the frame you
said Mrs. Clarke had her money hid-
den in?”

Moock examined it, “I'd say it is
the same one,”

BROWER walked back out to his
office and told McEwen the news,
“That means that Murphy must have

come back into town,” McEwen rea-

soned,

Brower whistled through his teeth
ina sigh. “I don’t know. This case
gets more and more screwy.”

McEwen said: “It looks to me like
Murphy was trying to plant the killing
on Moock. First he gets Moock to
write all the letters and uses Moock’s
address. If anything slipped up, it
would lead right back to Moock and
not Murphy. Then he gets Moock to
take the woman out in the car and
slips him a Mickey Finn. He knocks
her off with an ax he gets dut of
Moock’s car. Then he Plants evidence
right at Moock’s door.” f

“I’ve thought of all that,” Brower
said. “And the question is: Why?”

McEwen raised his hands in a ges-
ture. “It’s pretty obvious. He’s got
Moock in the middle, In case the body
was discovered—like it was—Moock’s
holding the sack. The evidence points
to Moock, not Murphy.”

Brower nodded. “And the same
question goes: Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Mc-
Ewen said. "“It all adds up. He

the ditch. But, just to make sure, he
plants the evidence against Moock in

“That’s easy. To get her dough.”
Brower waited several moments be-

“Let’s look at it from Murphy’s point
of view,” he said.

“Murphy’s point of view?”

“Sure. The Clarke woman promised
to marry him. She comes out with
two thousand dollars in cash to give
him. She’s willing, even eager, to give
him the money from the build-up he’s
given her about the inheritance he’s
going to get. Why should he take a
chance on murdering her when he can
get the money anyhow?”

McEwen let the new line of thought
sink in.

Brower went on: “There’s only one
other guy who knows she’s coming.
Knows she’s got the money. And
knows where she keeps it.”

McEwen sparked. “Moock!” he cried.

“Moock,” Brower repeated. “Moock
had just as much chance to kill her as
Murphy—and the same reason. The
only alibi he’s got is meeting Murphy
on the road and taking the drink that
knocked him out,”

“You think Moock killed her?”

“I didn’t say he did. I only said it
Was possible. Then, too, why would
Murphy bring the woman back here to
kill her when he’s in Idaho and ready
to make his get-away? Why plant the
broken picture-frame in front of
Moock’s house and take a chance on
being seen?”

“Then Moock must have killed
Murphy, too. If he didn’t, Murphy
would have been around here looking
for his bride and the two grand.”

“Either that—or there never was a
Murphy!” ,

“Whatl” McEwen cried. “You're go-
ing too fast for me.”

37


‘L sald maybe there isn't any Moock house, Mrs, Moock greeted grabbed it up and pulled off the cover. exce)t in the imagination of Archle
wphy.” them with impatient words. She He pulled out a handful of letters. Moock.”
‘But—” wanted to know why her husband had_ Beneath the letters was $1,490 in new Whose picture it was that. Moock

‘The only people who have seen or
ird of him are Moock and his wife.
thecked the mill this morning and
»y had no record of a James Murphy
rking there. Of course, it isn’t con-
sive evidence, for their records
‘n’t very complete. But it’s an wedge
start opening a crack of doubt.”
‘But Mrs. Moock—”
‘She’s in the clear. She’s being ab-
utely honest in telling what she be-
ves to be the truth. Either there
s a Murphy and Moock used him for
olind, or there was a man Moock
roduced to his wife as Murphy.
ter that Moock fed his wife this
ff to use as an alibi and, of course,
: took his word as gilt-edged truth.
ock simply built up such a story in
* mind that she, didn’t know fact
m fiction. Because she trusted and
ed her husband, she swallowed the
ole mess.”
‘If that’s the way it is, how are we
ng to crack Moock? His alibi’s
‘tty strong.”
3rower said: “I don’t think we will
x crack him. But if we can find
' money Mrs. Clarke had, I think
‘ll have enough of a case to go on
evidence alone.”
‘And where do we find the money?”
‘Moock hasn’t had much chance to
e it since the time of the murder.
got home early Sunday morning
1 we grabbed him Sunday night. If
did the job, it will be some place
se to his home. I suggest we go out
‘re and see what we can find.”
3rower and McEwen drove to the

Trailing

‘We’ve got more to go on now,” he
i. “Better descriptions for one
ag. Number One, the leader: One
idred fifty pounds, five feet six,
dium build, dark-complexioned,
wn eyes, black hair, about thirty-
» He’s the oldest. Number Two:
e hundred thirty pounds, five feet
e, slender, dark-brown eyes, bushy
ck hair. Number Three: One hun-
d forty, five feet four, medium
Id, dark-complexioned, brown eyes
1 hair.”
And the woman,” Hanrahan added.
ttle, dark-complexioned, black eyes.
» must be The Queen that mug
ntioned in the first job.”
*helan nodded. He wondered why
mobsters had chosen a woman to
d them. And why would she take
‘a gang? Was she in love with
» of its members? Who was The
een?
*nhelan threw more detectives into
case. He detailed Sergeants Thom-
Fallon and Pat McShane and their
iads to canvass the neighborhood
the will-o’-the-wisp woman. And,
the same time, he sent five squads
und the city to visit all the major
yet and oil companies. Each
3 told:
Watch for this woman. When she
ws up, telephone Headquarters im-
diately. Whatever you do, don’t let
think you’re suspicious of her.”

WAS Phelan’s latest plan—he
oped it would work. But could the
ice anticipate a stickup and plan for
vefore it happened? Could they use
finger-woman as the warning sig-
—turn the gang’s own ammunition
inst it? Could it be led into a trap
by its own cleverness?
sut the gang was cagy. Within five
1utes on the afternoon of June 26,
1eld up the Society Cleaners and
ars at No. 2535 North Western
nue for $1,000 and the Good Hu-
> Ice-Cream Company, several
cks away at No. 2736 West Armi-
2, for $2,075. A total of $3,075, the
zest haul to date.

They’re working more smoothly all
time,” Phelan observed quietly and
{ Hanrahan to hurry to both places.
.t the cleaners, Hanrahan talked to
nie Ditkowski, manager, and at the
cream office, he interviewed John

not been released.

“You’ve no reason to hold him,” she
declared. ‘“He’s only involved inno-
cently. You can’t keep him in jail.
We have a large family and he has to
work to support us.”

Brower soothed her, “As soon as
we have checked all his movements
and are certain he has been telling
the truth, we’ll release him,” he prom-
ised. “Now, you can help. What did
he do after he came home late Satur-
day night or early Sunday morning?”

“He went straight to bed.”

“And when he got up in the morn-
ing?”

“We had breakfast and he took Mr.
Tyree’s car back to him.”

“When he returned home?”

“He went to church.”

“And after the morning service?”

“He changed clothes and went out
in the garden to plant some tulip
bulbs. He had been planning all week
on putting them in.”

“Good,” Brower said. “We’ll go out

and check up on that for certain. You
understand that in police work every
statement must be checked to make
sure that it’s the truth. Where did he
plant them?”
“Along the back fence in a flower
bed.”
Brower took a shovel and went along
the freshly turned earth, digging up
the tulips. He dug down as far as the
earth had been turned over.

The earth had been loosened in a
deep hole. Bringing up the soft soil,
the shovel spilled out a can. McEwen

the Fur-Slippered Heist Queen (Continued from Page 13)

McCormick. And ‘both men remem-
bered—‘“now that you mention it,
Officer”—that the black-eyed queen of
the mob had appeared like an evil
omen a few days before the stickups.

“She’s the key to the whole thing,”
Phelan declared. “We’ve got to get
her and some day, somehow, we will.”

“How do they outguess us?” Hanra-
han asked. “Notice that just as soon
as we concentrate on breweries, they
switch to an ice-cream company and
cleaners.”

“They'll go back to breweries,”
Phelan said. ‘Watch and see. It’s ‘more
logical for the woman to price beer
by the keg than ice-cream and clean-
ing in large lots.”

He was right. Three brewing com-
pany offices were robbed by the gang
within the next few weeks of a total

of $3,000. Phelan countered by calling:

the head of the Illinois Brewers As-
sociation and asking that organization
to use its facilities to warn members
to watch for the fur-slippered queen.
Full cooperation was assured.

A few days later Phelan listened in-
tently on the telephone, made notes,
hung up and shoved a piece of paper
to Hanrahan, saying: “Go out to that
brewery and see the man named there.
He says the woman was in this morn-
ing inquiring about beer. This may
be the pay-off...”

Hanrahan’s 180 pounds didn’t slow
him down. He got a description of the
woman the employe had seen and
frowned when he noted that she was
described as being taller than the mob
queen, Was it a bum tip? Hanrahan
couldn’t take any chances,

“Separate and canvass the neigh-
borhood,” he ordered. “We missed her
by a few hours—she still may be
around,”

The men went to work. Up and
down the streets they pounded, poking
their heads into drug and grocery
stores, everywhere asking the same
question.” They drew blank after
blank. Then one druggist said: ‘Sure,
I think I know who you mean. We
make deliveries there every once in a

‘while. Her name’s Sheldon—Mrs. John

Sheldon.” ‘

The druggist found her address in
his books.

But at Headquarters, a few hours
later, both Mrs, Sheldon and her hus-

bills! ‘

Hurrying back to Headquarters,
Brower and McEwen confidently con-
fronted Moock with the new evidence.

“The jig’s up,” Brower told him.
“We found the missing Mrs, Clarke’s
money,”

“Did you get Murphy, too?” Moock
asked.

“Don’t stall!” Brower snapped. “We
found the can with the money and let-

‘ters in your tulip bed. Do you want

to confess?”
“Confess? Never!” Moock cried in-
dignantly. “I am innocent. Murphy

killed Mrs. Clarke.” i
“And you are Murphy,” Brower said.
Despite hours of questioning, Moock

could not be shaken. He insisted that

Murphy had killed Mrs. Clarke and he

was an innocent dupe.

TEEz= was enough evidence, how-
ever, to charge him with first-degree
murder without a confession,

Brower and McEwen ascertained
that Tyree had no connection with the
case other than innocently loaning his
car to Moock, the murderer.

At the trial in the Spring of 1929,
Moock stoutly denied that he was
guilty of luring the love-lorn Mrs.
Clarke to Spokane, or that he killed
her. He maintained that James
Murphy was the guilty man. fs

His wife and friends believed~ in
him and testified for him. "

Prosecutor C. W. Greenough, how-
ever, told the jury that there “never
was such a man as James Murphy,

band proved their complete innocence
and’ were sent home with a police
escort and apologies.

“That,” said Phelan wearily, “is one
swell lead blown up.”

“So?” Hanrahan asked.

“So we start over.”

They did, but it was uphill work.
During the weeks from August 31 to
November 4, the gang staged seven
robberies and took a total of $4,195.
More significant than this series of
robberies, however, was the fact that
no witnesses questioned remembered
seeing The Queen. Where was she?
What had happened? Had_- she left
the gang? :

The method of operation by the
gang was the same. Witnesses agreed
in their descriptions of the bandits,
whose timing, handkerchief masks and
guns remained the same as in the
earlier robberies. Everything was
alike except the absence of the woman
whose appearance usually preceded
the other holdups. Had these last jobs
all been cased by her during the
Spring when the gang had been com-
paratively inactive?

Lieutenant Phelan determined on a
new approach. He was certain the
woman would make her appearance
again. He planted detectives on beer
trucks and in brewery offices. No more
uniformed officers were sent to guard
company money. Instead, the detec-
tives rode as truck-drivers or sat at
desks in offices, sleeves rolled up and
pencils behind their ears. Day after
day the detectives reported for work
at a half-dozen breweries.

Could the mob be trapped? Would
it strike while the officers watched?
Would the woman precede the strike?

Hanrahan reported that the Pawn-
shop Detail had recovered the watch
stripped from the wrist of Anne Zake
in the Anheuser-Busch stickup.

“Who pawned it?” Phelan asked.

Hanrahan grinned.

“Our little lady with the cold feet!”

“Fine,” said Phelan. “That hooks
her in with the gang, all right. But do
we know who she is? Didn’t the
pawnshop boys get a lead?”

Hanrahan shook his head. “No, but
they hope to get one if any more of
that jewelry comes in.”

Phelan went to Chief of Detectives
John L. Sullivan.

sent to Mrs. Clarke never was learned.
Only the broken picture-frame was
put in evidence. The photo had been
destroyed by Moock, Greenough de-
clared, when he ripped it open to get
the money Mrs. Clarke had brought
for her finnee,

Archie Moock and his loyal wife,
Tina, maintained to the end that there
was a James Murphy and that Moock
had been a “stupid tool” of the ma
ter-mind of the marriage racket.

The jury, however, chose to disbe-
lieve him. They returned a verdict of
guilty in the first degree.

Moock was sentenced to hang.

On September 12, 1929, almost a
year from the fateful day when Moock
took Mrs. Clarke on her last ride to
meet her “groom of death,” Archie
Moock was led into the exercise yard
of the State Penitentiary at Walla
Walla where a crude scaffold had been
erected during the night.

He walked up the thirteen steps.

“Are there any last words you wish
to say?”

“I. am_ innocent!’ cried Moock.
“James Murphy is the guilty man.”

Moock still was crying loudly for
James Murphy to come forth and save
him when the black hood was dropped
over his head and the knotted rope
adjusted around his neck and cinched
up behind the left ear.

The trap was sprung and Moock was
jerked to his death at the end of the
rope in payment for taking the money,
the love and the life of Mrs. Catherine
Clarke of Boston.

<

“There’s a worse wave of robberies,”
he said, “than there’s been for years.
The only way to stop it is to be better
organized than they are. Can you help
us out?”

Sullivan agreed to take the problem
up with the Commissioner and a few
days later he told Phelan: “You'll
have three sergeants working under
you—McShane, Fallon and Hanrahan.
And you'll have forty detectives.
You'll concentrate on nothing but rob-
beries. It’s a lot of men for one job,
but I told the Commissioner you need-
ed them. Now you've got to show
results.”

Phelan went to work. He called his
men together and outlined the new
organization. He told them all the
wetk on the case now would be cen-
tralized. They could move faster. As
soon as a break came, they’d be onto
it—

But the gang struck again.

N NOVEMBER 20, 1939, it knocked
over the Murphy-Miles Petroleum
Company, No. 1801 West Fullerton, for
$150. Three days later it stuck up the
Schniffer Brothers Oil Company, No.
4010 South Wells, and escaped with

200.
And still the woman had not been
seen...

The weeks slid by and nothing hap-
pened. Then, suddenly, the gang held
up a packing-house. They didn’t get
much, but the detectives were ready
to teur their hair when a clerk told
them afterwards:

“Sure, now you mention it, I do re-
member that a woman of that descrip-
tion was in here a few days ago.
Why?”

So there it was. The Queen still was
active. She still was out casing for
the heist mob. She still wore her fur-
trimmed slippers.

“She’s our only bet,” Phelan said
grimly. ‘Call all the oil companies, the
packers, the brewers and the ice-cream
offices. They’ll have to wcich for that
dame. If we ever catch up with that
bunch, we’ll get ’em through her. We
can trap ’em if we ever get word she’s
visited a place...”

Christmas passed—no tip; New
Year’s—no tip. And then:
(Continued on Page 51)
AD—12


HMOOCH, Archi
9s Arcnie Frank (MUCH) 9 wh, hanged Wash. Spokane) September 12 19303 '
P

a

split in two from the blow of an ax—
or rather, a shingle hatchet.

Sheriff Brower and his deputy,
Glenn (“Scotty”) McEwan raced to
the scene. A few feet from the body,
McEwan discovered the hatchet
which Tyree identified as,one he
owned. .

“You're positive this is your ax?”
Brower demanded of Tyree.
“JT couldn’t be mistaken. I put that

handle in it myself.”

“How did it get out here?”

Tyree’s jaw dropped. He shook his
head slowly. “I dunno.”

“Who is the woman?”

“J don’t know that, either. Honest.”

The woman in the ditch appeared
to be‘in her early thirties. She was

well dressed. Her clothes and per-
sonal ‘appearance gave +the impres-
sion of wealth and refinement.

McEwan grunted: “She didn’t walk
out here and hit herself in the
head with your hatchet.” He placed
heavy emphasis on the words “your

hatchet.”

Brower said: “Let’s go over this
again. What time did you come out
here?”

“T picked up Frank at eight-thirty.
We drove straight out here—it’s
about ten miles.”

“You were with him?”
asked Winklebeck.

“All the time.”

“We picked prunes until a little
after noon. Then, Frank’s boy found
the «2. the body.”

“When were you out here before?”

“About a week ago. I drove by and
noticed the prunes. I told Frank we
ought to come out and get some.”

McEwan interposed: “The woman
was killed last night or early this
morning. You can tell by how fresh
the blood is.”’

“You weren't out here last night?”

“No. It was a week ago.”

Brower turned to the little boy.
“You didn’t see a woman around here
this morning, did you, sonny?”

“No, sir.”

“Where were you last night?”
Brower shot at Tyree.

“Home.”

“All evening?”

“All night. You can ask my wife.
Anyway, I couldn’t have gone any

THE SPOUTING PROPHET—— i: Mr. Moock had my car.”
0?
“Reverend Archie Moock. He’s got

Brower

HE man’s eyes bugged. His tongue
his dry lips. In 2. offered to help guide the police in

ran across : oe” Gawd
croak, he gasped: ‘My Gawd, A ;
that’s my ax.” their hunt for the killer of pretty a little church—he’s a neighbor.”
“Vour ax!” Mrs. Catherine Clarke, from Boston. “Moock, huh?” Brower measured
“Yeah, but I didn’t kill her. TP his words. “What was he doing with
swear it.” F your car?”
Sheriff Floyd Brower handled the pick prunes. That’s all...” :
Grover Tyree had called Sheriff YREE bit his lip nervously. “You
don’t think Mr. Moock... no, he,

ax gingerly to keep from obliterating

any ,
couldn’t. He’s married and he’s got

five kids. Besides, he’s got the
church, and...”
“What did he borrow your car for?”
Brower put a sting in the words.
“Said he had to take a friend...”
Tyree stopped short, realizing the

fingerprints. He looked from the
nervous man to the ax, and back to
the man again.

The knife edge in his voice slashed:
“Mister, it looks like you got a lot of
explaining to do. First, you find the

body. Now, you say this ax that abandoned and they were picking

Winklebeck’s son had gone

killed her is yours. prunes.
“But... but... . Jeez, I can’t ex- down toa ditch below the road and position in which he was placing his
plain. It’s like Ttel” you «3 1 didn’t found the body of a woman. friend. “But, I tell you. . oH

It took only one glance to see she “Friend, huh? Did he say who she ©

kill her. You gotta believe me.

Frank, me, and the kid come out to was?”

had been murdered. The skull was

: tL a sth AYS

>a vi G yy, LD)

wT

Se ao ae

tis

ts

TTT < ETRY

Tyree cauf
didn’t say it
me he wante:
place.

Brower tur
better see thi

“How abou

“Jack Coll
few minutes.

Coroner Ja
dusty road l
a hasty exan
confirmed w!
had guessed
killed with
to forty-eigl

“Possibly
Collins said.

when we Pn

To Tyree

Brower sa

stick close t

may want

later.”
Tyree a

promised tc

spective ho:
On the wv

Ewan aske

make of Ty

pose...”
“T don't

her, or els:

damn _ fool

There was

to say that

“TT wor
mused. ‘“S
his moutt
found it

through a:

“T’d_ slay
and keep |
McEwan
what I ha
Tyree thoi
“You m


FLAMING LETTERS
“SANG A SONG OF
a LOVE AND DEATH
gi . 10 BOSTON WIDOW
By FLOYD M.
COPELAND

of Tyree.

istaken. I put that >ky
iy i

out here?” : pe MRS "hy A : WICKED WEAPON——

pped. He shook his : a A SANE SUR of death belonged to the man who
begat “RAG my: 2 ‘ , found the body when he went on a
iat, either. Honest.” country prune picking expedition.
the ditch appeared
iy thirties. She was
sr clothes and per-
» -gave -the impres-
nd refinement.

ed: “She didn’t walk
hit herself in the
hatchet.” He placed
on the words “your

. blow of an ax—
hatchet.

and his deputy,
McEwan raced to
‘et from the body,
ad the hatchet
‘tified as , one he

this is your ax?”

“Let’s go over this
ne did you come out

Frank at eight-thirty.

‘aight out here—it’s
Se yr Tyree caught the question. “He de tC UO iaicw S
with him?” Brower didn’t say it was a she. He just told “Maybe not. It’s just an idea.”
< : : me he wanted to take a friend some “We'll know a hell of a lot more
. . : ; place. after we find out who the woman is.
re oes jae : Brower turned to McEwan. “We'd Somebody had to have a motive to id
ae ‘Franks y soun better see this fellow Moock.” murder her.”
Oey out here before?” 1 “How about the body?” | — Brower and McEwan found Moock 7»
Bp ou 1 sedi Se and H “Jack Collins will be along in a was not at his Hartson Avenue home. ‘
— Fr gat 3 few minutes. We'll wait for him.” ’ His wife said: “He's still at the |
unes. I to rane We : Coroner Jack Collins pulled up the church. He should be back within oe
: out — eis ar 5 dusty road in a short time. He made a short time.” ef
terpos a. € one ; a hasty examination of the body and Brower said: “We really weren't ee.
ist ~~ il ed so P. confirmed what Brower and McEwan _ looking for him. We_were trying to Ee
1 can tell by how +res had guessed. The woman had been find a friend of his. The person wit ee:
killed within the past twenty-four whom he was with last night.” ie
“Oh, Mrs. Clarke. Tm afraid she es

to forty-eight hours.
“Possibly within twelve hours,” isn’t around. Mr. Moock took her to) & :

Collins said. “I'll give it to you closer Mr. Murphy.” *
when we make _ the post mortem.” At the name of Mrs. Clarke, Brower
a. Tyree i? bsp
rower said: “You guys
stick close to your homes. PERPLEXING CLUES——
failed to keep Sheriff Floyd

may want to talk to you
ie; a Wi Brower from trail of clever
yreeneh inklebeck  yijller who lured Bostonian

romised to stay at their re- Re .
P 7 sui to wedding in Washington

spective houses.
On the way to town, Mc- _ state through paper ad.
Ewan asked: “What do you

make of Tyree? Do you sup-

a't out here last night?”
s a week ago.”

rned to the little boy.
ee a woman around here

_ did you, sonny?”

vere you last night?”

at Tyree.

ing?” ;
.. You can ask my wife.
couldn’t have gone any

Moock had my car.

da Archie Moock. He’s got
rch—he’s 2 neighbor.” :
huh?” Brower measured “fF
“What was he doing with

pose...

“J don’t think he killed
her, or else he’s the biggest
damn fool in the country.
There was no need for him
to say that was his hatchet.”

“y” wonder,” McEwan
mused. “Suppose he’d kept
his mouth shut and wed
found it was his hatchet
through another source.”

“~q slap him in the can
and keep him there until...”

McEwan smiled. “That’s

ink Mr. Moock . . - no, he.
He’s married and he’s got
Besides, he’s got the

AG iw.

lid he borrow your cat for?”
at a sting in the words.

e had to take a friend...
ypped_ short, realizing the
n which he was placing his
But, I tell you. - at

i huh? Did he say who she

”

Tyree thought of that.”
“You mean, he deliberate-


%

er. He
Way to

the desk
someone

1e office
the de-
iter the

huis desk
rby. He

wasted
name 1s
he said.

replied
“mount

isn’t so

n't the
* the
rO-

oiey E.

Manacled and without a coat,
“Big Tom” Johnson, head of
the notorious Johnson gang,
is shown as he was captured
following a jail break and sub-
sequent bank robbery. Coh-
sidered by many officials the
most desperate criminal in
the Northwest, Johnsoh was
trapped by a party of officers
which included Dan M’Len-
nan. At the right is Mrs.
Goldie M’Lennan, Dan’s
widow, with a portrait of her
late husband.

tection it wouldn’t have " happened.”
He paused. “Things are getting pretty
bad when a man can’t step out of his
house without losing his money—”

The other man in the room who had
been silently listening to the conversa-
tion got slowly to his feet, came over.

“Whose money ?” he said with a smile.
“Whose money was it you lost, Dan?”

The stranger wheeled on M’Lennan,
for he it was. “Where do you get this
Dan stuff,” he blustered. “I told you
my name was Buchanan!”

Dan only grinned. He turned to
Tennant: “Meet Dan Morrisey, Cap-
tain. Sometimes he’s a little shy about
using his right name!”

The man continued to bluster but his
vehement denials fell on deaf ears. The
records proved conclusively that he was
the much wanted Morrisey. Once more
M’Lennan’s remarkable memory had
harked back to the past—to an old circu-
lar sent out from Butte nearly two vears
before.

Perhaps Camera-Eye Dan’s “big-
gest” week was in May, 1922, With-
in that short space of time he recognized
and arrested two of the most sought-
after men in the country—one a mur-
derer and the other as desperate a crimi-
nal as California ever had known.

This desperado, A. Springano, alias
Gatto, better known: throughout police
circles under the sobriquet of “the
Mouse’”’—because of his furtive ways

ADVENTURES

and ability to hole up after a crime—was
wanted for one of the most daring hold-
ups in California’s history,

With three companions, he had fol-
lowed the collector of the Standard Oil
Company around one day, while he
gathered the collections. Then, in broad
daylight, just as the man was about to
enter the bank, they had backed him up
against the building and robbed him—
in full view of dozens of passers-by—
escaping with his satchel containing
$82,000 in cash and checks.

Trapping “The Mouse”

S THEbandits fled, however, Spring-
ano was recognized and later was
captured by police. But jail bars failed
to hold him. Through powerful under-
world connections, a gun was smuggled
in to him and he shot his way to freedom.
Springano made his way to Seattle
and there, like his namesake, ‘holed in.”
But even a mouse ventures forth in the
darkness, Springano, tired of solitude
and confinement of his small, bare room.
slipped out one night for a stroll.

The night air was sweet—too sweet.
He lingered a bit too long, it developed.
For, returning, just as he slipped out
of the alley and darted up the steps of
his rooming house, a tall man in a dark
overcoat called, “Halt,”

Springano’s face had been framed in
the light for only an instant during his
brief dash up the steps while M’Lennan
was passing—but it was long enough to
register with Camera-Eye Dan.

However, it was not alone to his phe-
nomenal memory that Dan owed his
fame. He was endowed with the
highest form of courage as well. Take
that grim Mosely affair for instance.

On a sultry evening in July, a phone
at the Central police station jangled.
The call came from the Business Men’s
Social Club, a negro organization at 614
Jackson street. Over the wire came an
agitated voice:

“This is Fears—the proprietor—talk-
ing. For God’s sake send an officer
over here—quick! There’s a man mak-
ing a disturbance and I’m afraid there's
going to be trouble.”

[Continued on page 79]

57

larkly.
vt get
o plug
in the
nped.”
rward
-e, his
ed on

ked in
ing to
waited
1 with
help-
their

Foot-

quiet

| d ex-
| stered
r, the
held
leer.

)ficer
rway.
ireat-
w his
» sur-
Then
igure
ward

ds of
rullet
. the
leart.
ipled
ay.
yet
ugly
‘oop-

the

and
tting

and
erer.
gTo.
ised
sked

eger
ugh
uiled
: his
tent

the
‘sby,
lley.

rder
the
Not
s of
‘less
ular
ETS
sa
ler

De-
ers
rad
ind
ntil

yr

Fisting

eaemapempeer raat or pees

charged from Walla Walla penitentiary

after completing a long sentence for the’

murder of a Japanese tailor:in Tacoma,
in December, ‘1913.

Armed with the name and description
of the ruthless killer, a huge manhunt
was soon under way. Squads of officers
combed the entire south end of the city,
searching every hotel, rooming house
and dive in the district but without
success.

Once, however, Dan and his men were
close on Mosely’s heels. They entered
a speakeasy just fifteen minutes after
the killer had left. He had stopped for
a couple of drinks and, pulling his gun,
had boasted who he was and what he
had done.

“Sure, I killed a cop,” he told them.
“And I'll kill some more if they try to
take me. They'll never get me alive!”
The people in the speakeasy had been
afraid to report the visit for fear the
killer would return and wreak his ven-
geance on them.

On leaving there, however, all trace
of the killer disappeared. To all intents
and purposes he might have vanished in
thin air.

But Dan and his brother detectives
worked doggedly on. Finally, when the
third day had failed to disclose any sign
of the fugitive, they began to wonder if
Mosely hadn’t slipped out of town. And
then Dan was struck with a sudden
hunch. He remembered that Tacoma,
only thirty miles away, had been a
former haunt of the murderer.

Acting on this idea, he fmmediately
got in touch with Captain John Strick-
land, head of the Tacoma detective di-
vision, and asked that a search be made
at once for the desperado. The answer
to his request came sooner than he had
expected. That same evening a call came
in from Tacoma headquarters. They be-
lieved they had located the rooming
house where the negro was staying.

Camera-Eye M’Lennan, DuCett, Cleary
and Hawaldt immediately left for Ta-
coma. There they were joined by Cap-
tain Strickland and a picked squad of
officers, armed with sawed-off shotguns,
and the party left for the house.

The Trap Closes

| WAS midnight when they arrived
and quietly surrounded the dwelling.
However, lights in several of the rooms
were: still burning, including the one
that had been pointed out to them as
Mosely’s, and they decided to wait for
a while, in the hope they would catch
him asleep.

At one-thirty the lights in the mur-
derer’s room went out. Waiting another
half-hour to make sure, Dan, with Cap-
tain Strickland and the three other
Seattle officers, stealthily entered and
made their way up the stairs.

At the end of the upper hall a single
light bulb—the sole illumination—
gleamed fitfully. Guided by its feeble
rays, the officers inched their way down
the passage, knowing that a single false
step, the creak of a loose board, might
cause the killer to launch a torrent of
lead. Pausing at last before Mosely’s
room, near the end of the corridor,
M’Lennan reached out and tried the
knob of the door. It was unlocked. Cau-
tiously he turned it, making no sound,
and pushed open the door.

The room was in absolute darkness.
Not a ray of light filtered in and they
could see nothing in the black void
before them. It was a tense moment.

THanx You For MEnTIonING Startirnc Detective ADVENTURES 8]

“Was the killer ‘crouched back in the
shadows—gun ready—waiting for the
first man to cross the threshold to loose
his murderous fire?

Cautiously M’Lennan raised his pocket
flash—his gun in his right hand—and
threw a beam of light across the room.
Swiftly it hit the wall at the other side,
came down, covered the bed. Stretched
out asleep, breathing heavily, was the
giant form of the negro. He was lying
on his back. and in his right hand,

clutched tight, was a long Luger pistol.-

As the.ray of light struck his face,
he opened his: eyes, blinked. Then com-
prehension dawned in them. At the same
instant the officers sprang forward into
the room. Dan caught the arm with the
gun, pressed it back on the bed, while
Captain Strickland and the other officers
hurled themselves on the negro’s body.

For a moment the struggle was des-
‘perate, for Mosely was not only un-
usually powerful but desperation gave
him added strength. The darkness, too,
aided him. —

Twice he threw himself clear of
the bed, only to be hurled back. on it
again. But at last numbers told on him.
Panting and exhausted, covered by the
officers’ guns, he was led from the room.
But even then his coolness did not desert
him. Turning to Captain Strickland he
said: “You all got too many guns point-
ing my way. An’ if you get nervous—
one of them might go off.”

Death Steps In

AEaSr the Mosely affair, Camera-
Eye M’Lennan made other sensa-
tional captures—dozens of them. Police
records are crammed with his exploits,
and there would have been more of them
had he been permitted to live his, event-
ful life to the full.

But. fate intervened.

One day in May, 1928, M’Lennan was
called to the hospital for a minor opera-
tion. It was successful but later compli-
cations set in that sapped his strength.

When the news was brought to head-
quarters that Camera-Eye was dead, the
whole force mourned. As the flag was
dipped in his honor, officers gathered
and with chins not so firm discussed
Dan’s life and his triumphs. But mostly
they talked of his qualities as a man.
For to all, from humblest patrolman -to
captain, Dan was a comrade and pal.

As the preparations for the funeral
went ‘forward, Chief Forbes was ex-
horted “to make it the biggest police
funeral yet.” And it was. A grateful city
—Dan had been its chief insurance
against crime for nineteen years—saw to
that.

It was a colorful cortege that marched
from the Eagles’ Auditorium to the cem-
-etery. Uniformed police, firemen, men
from the state motorcycle patrol, civic
dignitaries, the high and the low—all
;were in the procession.

Everyone who knew Dan was there.
Everyone, that is, except Dan’s mother.
She couldn’t come—for Nova Scotia is
far away and she was old. But Dan’s
friends sent her the stories of his life
and his death and she read how all the
Northwest came to honor her son that
day; how the flowers overflowed the hall
and the music caught the throat of the
throngs outside who stood along the
streets to see a brave man pass.

There have been few like him—few
who had that remarkable ability and un-
usual memory that gave him his nick-
name, the sleuth with the camera eyes.

7. E. Smith
' President

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side of the room, glowering darkly.

“Keep quiet and maybe you won't get
hurt,” he told them. “I’m going to plug
the first bull who sticks his nose in the
room and I don’t want to be cramped.”

With the words he walked forward
and took a stand near the entrance, his
revolver ready and his eyes glued on
the door.

Slowly the minutes passed. Locked in
the silence of utter terror, not daring to
move, the people in the room waited
breathlessly. Would he go through with
his threat? Were they—standing by help-
less—to see a man murdered before their
very eyes?

They were not long in doubt. Foot-
steps approached the door. So quiet
was the crowd, waiting in dread ex-
pectancy, that each footfall registered
clearly. As the steps drew nearer, the
negro raised his arm deliberately, held
it rigid, his lips curved in an ugly leer
Somebody screamed.

Then the door knob rattled and Officer
Comer stepped through the doorway
Unaware of the dire peril that threat-
ened, he had not bothered to draw his
gun. For an instant he stood there sur-
veying the scene. Nobody spoke. Then
as his eyes glimpsed the grim figure
waiting, his hand leaped suddenly toward
his weapon. Too late.

Once, twice, the gun in the hands of
the negro killer spoke. The first bullet
grazed the patrolman’s right wrist, the
second struck him just under the heart.
For an instant he swayed, then crumpled
and fell on his back in the doorway.

But the fiendish slayer was not yet
through. His lips twisted back in an ugly
snarl. He walked to the body and, stoop-
ing, deliberately put his pistol to the
head of the victim.

It was too much—more than flesh and
blood could passively stand. Forgetting
his own peril, Fears leaped forward and
attempted to grapple with the murderer.
But he was no match for the huge negro.

Hurling him aside, the killer raised
his gun and aimed it at him. “You asked
for it, Fears,” he panted. “And by ——.
you're going to get it!”

With the words he pulled the trigger
twice. But luckily for Fears, through
some millionth chance the shells failed
to explode. Snapping the hammer at his

intended victim once more in impotent
fury, the murderer dashed out of the
door, in full view of dozens of passersby,
and vanished down the adjacent alley.

Identify Killer

HEN news of the brutal murder

was flashed to headquarters, the
men were stirred to their depths. Not
only was Comer one of the veterans of
the department—an able and _ fearless
officer—but he was extremely popular
with his associates. Ominous whispers
went down the line that this was a
“must” case. That the brutal cop killer
had to be caught!

Captain Tennant at once rushed De-
tective Sergeant M’Lennan with Officers
Frank DuCett, M. J. Cleary and Conrad
Hawaldt to the scene of the crime and
they were told to stay on the case until
they brought in the murderer—dead or
alive.

The identity of the slayer was not
long in doubt. Witnesses of the murder
who were brought to headquarters and
shown the rogues’ gallery photographs,
quickly picked out the picture of L.
Mosely, as the man wanted.

Mosely, or “Tacoma Duffy” as he was
generally known, had just been dis-

80 THANK You For MENTIONING STARTLING Detective ApveNTURES

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not die. Shortly it was to be given a
newer, more sinister impetus. For on
the very day that Long was laid to rest—
even as thousands mourned their fallen
leader+death threats crackled over the
wires to the Reverend Mr. Smith and
Earl J. Christenberry, secretary to the
slain senator.

“We got Long,” came the crisp, divine.
ing tones. “We'll get you. We'll get
every damn’ one of the Long men!”

Promptly Mr. Smith despatched a tele-
gram to President Roosevelt, importun-
ing him to intervene in Louisiana’s
tangled affairs—to institute a govern-
ment probe into the riddle of Huey
Long’s death and bring the leaders of
the alleged murder band to justice.

But an official reply was not immedi-
ately forthcoming. And when it came,
in a roundabout way, it was not at all the
sort of answer which Long’s supporters
had expected. For the government an-
nounced that it was preparing to smash
the Long machine—that a picked squad
of federal operatives’ was en route to
Louisiana, not to probe the death mys-
tery, but to send Long leaders, guilty of
income tax violations, to Atlanta peni-
tentiary.

With the shadow of federal prison
looming over the Long camp, the murder
plot investigation was temporarily for-
gotten. But it was soon revived with
new fervor. Tens of thousands of Long’s
humble followers refused to let the i issue
die. They were the men and women of
the back country—the forgotten elector-
ate to whom Huey had dediéated his
battle song, “Every Man a King.” Huey,
living, had remembered them; Huey,
dead, was not to be forgotten.

Was young Dr. Weiss a lone figure of
vengeance or the agent of a murder com-
bine? Long’s supporters were fairly cer-
tain of the answer; but in justice to the
slain physician they launched a new probe
into his actions, determined, once and
for all, to get at the bottom of the mys-
tery.

On that fatal Sunday, they discovered,
there was nothing in Dr. Weiss’ de-
meanor—no departure from normal
routine—to indicate that murder weighed
upon his heart. He went to church, had
dinner with his parents, spent an after-
noon in the country with his wife and
child. He came home that evening, had
supper, fed his dog, helped put the baby
to bed—the homely, familiar tasks. cher-
ished by every normal man. Yet he
stepped from that peaceful family scene
onto the stage of bloody murder. Were
his actions, then, the evidence of a guilt-
less conscience or the carefully planned
movements of an intelligent, calculating
man seeking to allay suspicions of pre-
meditated murder?

With the baby tucked away for the

The Sleuth With the Camera

{Continued from page 57]

Headquarters immediately sent Patrol-
man Amos T. Comer to the address with
instructions to pick up the offender and
jail him. But in the meantime things at
the social club had come to a head. The
troublemaker, a big negro, overhearing
Fears call the police, strode over to him,

night, Dr. Weiss then made arrange-
ments to perform an operation on the
following morning and left on a sick call
from which he never returned alive. Did
he intend to keep that appointment or
was it a pre-arranged alibi to sustain a.
temporary insanity plea when he was
brought into court to answer for the mur-
der of Senator Long?

Used “Outlaw” Gun

Fe AN ee of the death weapon
revealed a significant circumstance.
The gun used by Dr. Weiss was a .32
caliber automatic of foreign make. But
it was an “outlaw” gun. It had no serial
numbers and consequently could not be

“traced, if discarded during a getaway.

Since many of the citizens of Baton
Rouge went armed, the fact that Dr.
Weiss was carrying a gun on that par-
ticular night was relatively unimportant.
It might have indicated either careful
premeditation or a total lack of it. One
fact, however, could not be gainsaid. Dr.
Weiss knew that the time was ripe for
murder. He knew that the guards had
been removed from the statehouse—that
he risked no challenge by suspicious sen-
tries.

Dr. Weiss was known to have indulged
in occasional target practice on his visits
into the country. Was this merely inno-
cent recreation or was he looking forward
to the day when he would draw a bead
on a human target—to carry out the
death decree of a band of murder plot-
ters?

These were the questions and theories
that tore Louisiana asunder. But the
men and women of the backwoods—
Huey’s chosen people—felt, in their
simple hearts, that they knew the real
story behind his death as they swarmed
into Baton Rouge to attend his final
rites. Dry-eyed, but with choking throats,
they watched as the body of their leader,
lying in a double copper coffin, encased
in turn by a heavy copper outer casket,
was lowered into a concrete-lined grave
in a sunken garden facing the beautiful
capitol building which Huey had built
four years before as Louisiana’s gover-
nor.

Huey had lived a hard life, had died a
hard death and was buried in a hard sub-
stance. Therein, they felt, with a quick
flash of untutored intuition, lay the an-
swer to the death riddle. Huey’s ene-
mies were legion but he was a friend of
the individual. No lone figure had con-
ceived his tragic passing. Not one man,
but an organized group—a host of im-
placable enemies—had conspired to lay
the dictator low. Of that much were
they certain—that, and one other thing:
That never again would the nation see
the equal of Huey Long.

oyes

seized him by the collar, and hurled him
halfway across the room.

“Calling the cops, hey?” he snarled.
“Well, if they come here looking for
trouble, they’ll get it!”

Then, drawing a gun from his pocket,
he herded everyone present to the far

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had four sheriffs, so that it was Sheriff
Ed Cudihee who now made the final prep-
arations for the hanging in the atti¢ of the
old King County court house. Under the
law he was entitled to ask such witnesses
as he chose. Accordingly, if you were in
the sheriff’s good graces, or controlled
enough votes in Seattle, you received, a
couple of days before August 23, a neatly
rina invitation which read:
Py cwiaceseie 3 vex igs aca etdeiLad

CHARLES NORDSTROM
Friday, August 23, 1901, at the King
County Court House, at 9:30 a. m.

ied. Cudihee
Sheriff

Present this card.

Not transferable,

That last line was necessary in order to
prevent a traffic in the unusual pasteboards.
The printing was appropriately done; a
heavy, black border circumscribed the edge
of the card, and, as was his right as the
guest of honor, the name of Charles Nord-
strom was featured in the center in Old
English letters.

For two solid hours, however, despite
the fact that the invitations were already
out, on the afternoon of August 21, Colonel
Lewis pleaded with Judge Bell to spare
Nordstrom’s life. He produced affidavits
from the guards who swore that the pris-
oner was of unsound mijnd. During that
long argument Nordstrom sat apparently
unconcerned; his faith in Colonel Lewis
was that of dog for master. But, after
the judge had announced that he would
not interfere, Nordstrom became sullen; he
refused to eat, and his daily walks about
the cage were abandoned. He spent most
of his time reclining on his cot.

N THE TEN YEARS TITAT Nordstrom’s fight
for freedom had been going on he had
never been outside the jail except to appear
in the courtroom. A model prisoner, the
news that the last hope seemed gone never-
theless completely unnerved him.
Questioned about the murder, he insisted
that he did not even know where Cedar
Mountain was. He said he never had
known a Willie Mason.

Probably few men ever carried a greater
burden of responsibility than did Colonel

Lewis in those next two days, for} during
that very month the wager at Considines’
had assumed a more significant aspect.
The brother-owners of the famous gam-
bling place were themselves held on a
charge of murdering Ex-Chief of Police
Meredith of Seattle, who had been fatally
wounded in a gun battle in Guy’s drug
store, and Lewis had been asked to defend
them. He was in the midst of the prepara-
tions for that case when he came to a re-
alization that he had probably exhausted
his every recourse in the Nordstrom affair.
On the morning of August 22 Colonel
Lewis and Charles Nordstrom had what
was secmingly their last visit together.
Lewis told his client he feared the fight
was lost. Nordstrom had_ regained his
composure; he remarked upon the
splendour of the lawyer’s attire and
thanked him for his efforts. He had eaten
a good breakfast and seemed resigned to
his fate.

“Anyway,” he said, “they will give me a
bottle of whisky, so I won’t know anything
about it.”

Nordstrom was now only thirty-seven
years old, but his face plainly showed the
terror and anguish he had endured; he
looked to be a man of fifty.

At 6 o'clock on the evening of August
22 a priest visited the condemned man.
After remaining for an hour he came out

Box 257, Dept. RD, New York City.

88

and said that Nordstrom gave vent to his

FOUGHT COLONEL LEWIS

John W. Miller was one of the prosecutors

in the long, drawn-out attempt to send

Charles Nordstrom to the gallows. He was

the courtroom opponent of J. Ham (“Pink
Whiskers’) Lewis.

feelings and cursed those who had brought
him to the shadow of the gallows, but that
finally he did kneel beside him in prayer.
At 8:30 the prisoner had lain down on his
cot and was soon asleep.

The death watch was set, the assignment
being drawn by Deputies McCann and Mul-
len. At 10 o’clock members of the Salva-
tion Army arrived, and when they left the
Prisoner again tried to sleep.

B"? THE SLEEP OF CHARLES NORDSTROM

on that night was broken and fitful; he
tossed and tumbled and muttered in’ his
slumber. At 3 o'clock in the morning he
arose and asked for a piece of blackberry
pie, and at 7 he was given a porterhouse
steak, two eggs, fried potatoes and coffee,
which he ate with relish.

And in his office farther up town, the
usually sartorially perfect little lawyer, his
hair tousled by nervous hands, paced to
and fro between a chair and a window
which overlooked the tower of the King
County court house. He was racking his
brain for some new loophole; he had been
doing that all night.

At 7 o'clock he closed the heavy roll-
top desk with a bang. When he stepped
into Considines’ a few minutes later he
was spick and span; every hair in his pink
whiskers was in place.

“They are hanging an innocent man—if
they hang him,” was his comment to a
friend who had received one of Sheriff
Cudihee’s invitations. As he started out
the door he turned back and picked up the
telephone, and over the wire he made his
last appeal to Judge Bell to stop the execu-
tion on the ground that Nordstrom was
insane.

At 7:30 the guards began to dress Nord-
strom in a neat, new, black suit. He was
a bit reluctant to lay aside his threadbare
old pants; somehow he associated that act
with the beginning of the end.

“Come
Cann, “th

On the
Nordstror
turned to
times had
and come
deputy tt
told him |
a flight f:
realized 1
small, spc
with a cot
—a_ black
the sinis‘
Colonel L

S$ SH}
deat!

‘his shirt

He was !
“It’s te
When

twenty 1

legal phr

admitted.
his sobs

prayers «
he grew :
against

pleaded .
At 9:1

tired; he

accompa:
At 9:
scaffold
that all
through
three dc
This tr:
that non
strom h
“Keey
said Sh
for sile:
been th:
tlemen,”
hundre:
put out
silently
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Suda:
through
pin cou
curtain

THE

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Whe:
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and 01


the evening meal at the ranch house of his father,
Thomas Mason, near Cedar Mountain, twenty miles
southeast of Seattle.

The dining table was next to a window and young
Mason, barely twenty-one, had his left side toward the
opening. A single oil lamp provided the only illumi-
nation in the room. :

Conversation had been running rapidly, but suddenly,
as though by agreement, there came a lull. That silence
was broken by the splintering crash of a window pane
and Willie Mason fell dead over his plate, a rifle ball
through his heart. The murderer escaped unrecognized
into the night.

ERTAINLY, WILLIE MASON HAD BEEN deliberately se-

lected for murder, but there was no known motive
and few clues. However, on the next morning Deputy
Jack McDonald of Sheriff Tom Woolery’s King County
force found imprints of a man’s rubber boots beneath
the window, and an empty 45-70 Winchester shell. In
the wet earth could be seen the twisted boot track of the
fleeing killer; the prints led out into a pasture lot, where
they were lost in the bunchgrass. But, Indian-like, Mc-
Donald picked up the marks of heavy, woolen socks on
the far side of the field. These led to a deserted cabin
and a pair of muddy boots that
fitted into the tracks beneath the
broken window. Trailing imprints

JAMES HAMILTON LEWIS

Ilis services were much sought in the
Seattle of thirty years ago. He had arepu-
tation for tenacity. Above: As the Senator
appears today. Left: Artist’s sketch made
during his days in the Northwest.

of a man’s shoes which led into a
nearby forest, McDonald discovered
that there was a_ three-cornered
patch on the sole of the left shoe.
He lost the trail amid the moss and
needles, but two days later he was
fortunate enough to find it again on
the opposite side of the woods.
staat In the meantime two men had come under sus-
picion: Tom Lindsay, son of the man who had
just vacated the cabin where the boots were
found, and who had, two weeks prior to the mur-
der, fought with young Mason over a girl; and
Charles Nordstrom, a Swede, who had quarreled
with Mason over wages.
The three-cornered patch led to the cabin of
Miner Tom Ismay, where a new felt hat, not Ismay’s
property, was found. A cap was missing. A partially
burned page of a notebook, with Swedish writing on it,
was found also. Ismay himself had a perfect alibi.

The trail of the three-cornered patch was finally lost
in the muddy streets of the nearby village of Gilman,
but a grocer there had sold cheese and crackers to a man
answering Nordstrom’s description on the previous day,
and then the suspect had taken the lull trail The next
day Deputy McDonald caught up with a man carrying
a rifle on the tracks of the Northern Pacific Railway, far
up on the slopes of the Cascade Mountains. The captive
said his name was “N-o-o-rdstrom.”

65

semibniputerieatirmeani sen a ee

Simrenctiapeamtnminince a nmiooe

Mii ©

on j t
“we Cane beaters there eit RL th ae dsl laatsianemanenS heed semen eT Te Ter waa

THE STANDING WAGER

This inscription, chalked on the board of

Considines’ Bar, referred to Colonel Lewis’

efforts in behalf of Charles Nordstrom.

Right: Invitation to the execution of the
killer, finally held in rgou.

PREeENs ,
NON-TR, i‘
R,

He was taken to the King
County jail in Seattle, and finally
was brought to trial on January 8,
1892. The court had appointed
Attorneys Soderberg and Palmer to defend him.

The evidence was, of course, strictly circumstantial,
but Deputy McDonald had done his work well. Nord-
strom had on Ismay’s cap when apprehended; he was
the man who had purchased the felt hat found in the
miner’s cabin ; the piece of paper found there came from
a note book taken from Nordstrom; the 45-70 rifle he
had purchased on the day previous to the murder and

five shells had been procured for it. But one shot was-

fired during the murder, and the four shells remaining
in the possession of the accused man were of the same
calibre and manufacture as the one found at the scene
of the crime. The mud-covered socks were introduced
as the ones worn by Nordstrom in his flight across: the
pasture lot.

That was the substance of the case for the prosecution.
The defense insisted the case was weak in that it had
not been proved the boots were ever in the possession of
the accused. Why, they asked, had the state not at-
tempted to establish the ownership of those boots? Was
it because they belonged to Tom Lindsay?

Palmer contended that Nordstrom, unable to under-
stand English perfectly, was a victim of a most amazing
set of circumstances which he. could not explain away.
He had got drunk and started for his shack, only a quar-
ter of a mile from the Mason ranch, and had unwittingly
crossed his own trail with that of the killer. He said
his client probably spent the night in the Ismay cabin,
but had no recollection of it. His own gun could have
been used and returned to him without his knowledge.

The boots, claimed Palmer, were too small for Nord-
strom’s feet; dramatically the accused man tried to pull
them on without success. But Sheriff Woolery, whose
feet were larger than Nordstrom’s, drew them on easily
at the request of Prosecutor John W. Miller.

On the morning of January 13, 1892, a jury found
Nordstrom guilty of murder in the first degree, and
Judge Tom Humes fixed the penalty at death.

Hex INTERESTED BEFORE THE TRIAL, Swedish cit-
izens now rallied to the support of a countryman.
They raised $1,400 for his defense, and here it was that
the astute and pink-whiskered Colonel Lewis entered the
picture.

With sprightly step he betook himself to a lonely cell
in the King County jail, where, through an interpreter,
he gathered the condemned man’s own story of his move-

66

7

Lil eedea eet)

ments prior to and
after the murder.
“An injustice has
been done,” an-
nounced Colonel

Lewis. “This man is

innocent.”

Thus the fight be-
gan, each move being
timed with such preci-
sion that it fell just
within the limit of the
space allowed for the ex-
ercise of the rights of the condemned man, and thus
Colonel Lewis kept the courts of the land “on their ear”
for an almost unbelievable length of time.

First he appealed to the supreme court of the state
for a new trial; this acted as a stay .of execution.
Through one plea and another, during which time he
aroused much sympathy for his client, he kept that appeal
in the state court until May 15, 1894, before his request
was finally refused. Judge Hume set the hanging for
August 31. Three years had now passed and those who
did not reckon with Colonel Lewis’ shrewdness thought
the end was near.

“The prosecutor had no right to personally indict this
man. It should have been done by a grand jury. It is
a violation of his sacred rights,” now said Lewis as he
asked for a writ of habeas corpus from the federal dis-
trict court. However, Judge Hanford denied the writ
and an appeal was taken to the supreme court of the
United States—this acted also as a stay of execution.
Not until February 11, 1897, did the remittitur finally
reach Seattle. Five and one-half years had passed;
surely this was the limit of the law’s delay.

On February 20, 1897, a new judge, Orange Jacobs,
signed a third death warrant setting the date for April
23, but still that two to one bet stood on the board at
Considines’,

te ari CONVICTED THIS MAN of first degree murder
when he was not so charged in the indictment,”
stormed the fiery little colonel as he again asked Judge
Hanford for a writ to prevent the carrying out of the
sentence. Refused in the lower courts he again took the
case to Washington, D. C., where for the second time his
appeal fell upon deaf ears, although it again postponed
death for Nordstrom. And now, for the fourth time,
the execution was set; the date was August 11, 1899,

Sports who had lost their money betting against the
clever colonel were a bit reluctant to take the short end
of the wager now. Still, there were some who were
willing to send good money after bad and a few bets
were placed over the Considine bar.

One week before Nordstrom was to swing Colonel
Lewis asked that he be given a jury to examine into the
sanity of the man. Judge (Continued on page 87)


Huntington driv

closed car. He alighted, bearing a black

satchel. Nervous, fearful, looking, fur- leisurely.

- tively over his shoulder like a thief in the
1S night, the man
r moved directly to the public check stand.
OHN SELDEN KNEW THAT HE NOW must d

take the one big chance in his chain of tion.

maneuvers. It might be a trap.

however, counting a great deal on. the

cowardly character of Van Huntington.

= He considered it better than an even shot

that Van Huntington had not notified the Out of the corner of ht
porter present the claim check at the

yindow, saw him receive a black
Whistling, the boy skipped out to

police.
Suppose it was a trap. Suppose Van proper V

Huntington had told of the threat, In that satchel.

case, the satchel now carried by him would the train sheds.
Selden saw him enter the New York Pull-

contain only rags and padding. He wou

check it, then mail the claim check to man and emerge a
Selden did not go to the Pull-

Harry Hoy, care of General Delivery. handed.

e up alone in his own The check now read 728.
The steak arrived and was partaken of

At 10:45 Selden went over to the station.
hurried into the station and A train was leaving for the East at eleven.
Selden bought a ticket for New York an
a lower berth. He went to another win-
dow and bought a ticket for Niles Junc-
He then called a red cap.
He was, him fifty cents and the 728 claim check.
“Put my baggage in lower ten of the
New York Pullman,” he directed, then
turned and walked over to the newsstand.

The police would be in ambush at the post- mai. He

a office to pounce on Harry Hoy

Having carefully weighed all these pos- Niles Junction, whe
i one fork going east and the other south-

_ sibilities, John Selden, in beard, toupee,
- plaid cap and a suiting quite distinct from west. He walked through the train, car
30 any color or style ever worn by John by car, toward the rear, until he came, to
Ie Selden, moved across the expanse of the the New York Pullman. The only thing
‘kk station in the wake of Van Huntington. in lower ten was black satchek, Selden
ty Selden also carried a black satchel. About took it. ; :
rst him were scores of other travelers, many He retraced his steps through the train
he of them with luggage moving to and from to the chair car. The train pulled out.
ee the check stand. Later, the conductor came by and took his
of Selden, forcing himself not to limp ar- Niles Junction ticket. The lights were
( i The rails clicked underneath and

a rived at the stand only a few steps behind dimmed.

At the steps he displayed his ticket for

He gave

{ his eye he saw the

Following at a distance,
a moment later empty-
went to the chair car.

re the railroad splits,

ll Van Huntington. Van Huntington checked the occupants of the car sprawled in sleep.
ed his bag. As the duplicate tag was tossed As they neared Niles Junction at 2:30 A. M.,
on the counter for him, Selden, at his el- John Selden peered in his black satchel.

_ bow, noted the number. It was 728 Money !. Real money! Another victory !
vd Van Huntington took the check and hur- The spineless Number Three, warned
ad ried away. Selden presented his own bag. by the fates of Numbers One and Two,
ie He received claim check No. 729. He fearing Hong Lee’s noose as he feared
iS moved away in the opposite direction from death and the devil, had come through with
eH Van Huntington. $100,000 cash!

1s¢ EAVING THE STATION, Selden walked John Selden, alias Hong Lee, alias Morris
rs across the street to a restaurant, Lawson, has succeeded once again. Number
Be where, seated in a shielded booth, he or- One—Hans Roberts—has been slain. Num-
y dered a steak, While he was waiting for ber Two—himself—supposedly has been
eg it, he took from his pocket some small kidnaped. Number Three-—Van Hunting-
us rubber dies, or stamps, and an ink pad. ton—has yielded a fortune. .. . But John
_ He also produced an ink eraser and a bot- Selden’s program of crime has not yet been

tle of acid. First with the acid, then with

, the eraser, he worked patiently on the fig- Four. What is t
ih ure 9 of his claim check. Finally he had New York? What will be the ending of

fully accomplished. There remains Number

he reason for the flight to

nS the 9 quite dim. He selected the rubber _ this diabolical plot? Don’t miss the as-
vn. stamp which made a figure 8 of the exact tounding final chapters of “The Evil Eye of
al height and type of the figures on the claim Hong Lee” in next month’s REAL DETEC-
ies check. He stamped an 8 over the dim 9. TIVE.

he HOW SENATOR LEWIS KEPT A KILLER ALIVE

to
- Continued from page 66
He

on Jacobs refused the request and selected in- act under which Nordstrom had been given

stead a committee of physicians, who de- the death penalty had been repealed at

‘ag clared Nordstrom sane. Lewis insisted he Washington's admission under statehood.
to had a right to a jury since the question of He insisted that no new act providing for
eb sanity had not been raised at the trial, so the extreme penalty had ever been ratifie
ae he appealed to the supreme court of the and that there had been a failure to prop-
ba state. Losing there, he went again to the erly adopt it into the statutes of statehood.
Me supreme court, of the land, and another Advised that there was probably some truth
us- stay of execution was in effect. But this to this contention, but that it could be
WO, appeal was likewise fruitless. remedied by the legislature, Governor
tS, “ Beaten again, after nine and one-half Rogers called a special session, and another
out years of fighting, Colonel Lewis saw his of Charles Nordstrom’s chances went glim-
no client led before Judge Jacobs to hear sen- mering.

tence passed for the fifth time. The hang-
for ing was set for August 23, 1901.
And apparently Colonel Lewis had ex-

“TD ut THEY HAD NO RIGHT to try this man

in the state courts,” now said Colonel
hausted his bag of legal tricks, for he now Lewis to Federal Judge Hanford. “He is
appealed to Governor John Rogers, a most a citizen of Sweden and should, have been
humane man, to commute the sentence to tried under the extradition treaties existing

ath

nee life _imprisonment. The state _anxiously between that country and the United

ad: awaited the Governor’s decision; hun- States.” The judge, however, not only dis-

‘ok dreds advised mercy, but as many others’ agreed but refused to grant a stay of ex-
‘ said Nordstrom should hang. Deciding ecution, despite Lewis’s notice of appeal.

‘hee that Nordstrom was sane, the Governor de- Tt was now nearing August 23—the date
: clined to interfere. of the execution.

en= But Colonel Lewis still had a trump card, Four prosecutors had come to the office

van He pointed out to the Governor that the since the opening of the famous case, as

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requiem they now sounded).” At the church where they were
married, the minister who had united them read over their
bodies the burial service of the Church of England,

Back at San Juan Island, apprehensive settlers were reacting
to the terrible knowledge that an unknown and ruthless killer was
at large among them, Nearly everyone supposed the Dwyers’
murderer had killed Fuller as well. And when Special Officer
McMillan pronounced that the assassin was likely a white man
(since Indians rarely wore shoes) islanders began looking warily
at one another. Farmers would let their chores go, rather than
leave their families home alone; nearly everyone slept with an
open eye — and a firearm under the pillow. Mass meetings were
held, the settlers toying with the idea of a Vigilante-type volunteer
police force — but who could be trusted to serve on it? (An
innocent visitor, barging in suddenly and unannounced at one
of these get-togethers, narrowly missed being shot to death by
his jittery neighbors. )

Meanwhiic, Minerva Hannah was quietly totting up a fact
or two and coming to her own suspicions. To Warbass she
suggested, privately, a discreet visit to the Kanaka Bay shack-
town, to see if anyone might be missing — particularly a couple
of young brothers named Joe and Kie Nuanna. Just a few days
before the Dwyers were found dead, the boys had asked to
borrow a shotgun from the Hannahs to go pigeon-shooting.
Minerva had loaned it to them, along with a small pouch full
of shot. Joe had returned the gun the same evening, but acted
strangely; and afterward she found blood-stains on the stock,

Warbass considered the story for a moment. After all, it was
only one of many tales islanders were bringing him about people
who had ‘acted strangely” lately. He asked her one question:
where was the shot pouch she had loaned the two boys? Well,
that was another thing: they had not returned it, and she had
not seen them to ask about that.

166

At Kanaka Bay, Warbass found that both Joe and Kie had
crossed over to Victoria “to have a time.” With them was a
Canadian Indian known as Charlie, who had been on San Juan
for a while, palling around with the Nuanna boys. Warbass
looked up Special Officer McMillan, who telegraphed the inform-
ation to Victoria, and the next day police were on the look-out
for all three.

Joe and Kie Nuanna were the teen-aged sons of a Kanaka
father and an Indian mother. Joe, the older of the two, had more
of an Indian than a Hawaiian appearance. He was short, but
fairly thick-set, with coarse, straight black hair neatly combed
back of his ears, and had high cheek bones and a sharp, straight
nose. He had grown up on San Juan— had even gone to
school there — but now Joe was growing to look the part of a
full-blooded Stikine warrior. Still, neither he nor his brother had
been regarded as particularly troublesome.

Joe was walking serenely down Victoria’s Yates Street when
a constable spotted him. He seemed surprised at being arrested,
but mighty uneasy, too. Asked about Dwyer’s murder, he told the
officer “Charlie knows all about that” — and was marched off
to gaol by the constable, who suspected Joe knew quite a bit
about it, too.

Charlie’s reputation was not very good. He had been in trouble
several times in Victoria, where the Colonist described him as
“a villainous and dwarfish-sized Indian.” Police caught up with
him on Fort Street the same day Joe was arrested. They also
hauled in an Indian by the name of Tom, a friend of Charlie's
who was under suspicion for several unsolved killings.*

Special Officer McMillan took passage to Victoria and inter-

Y

viewed the prisoners. Counting the rows of nails in Joe’s boots

* James Cowan was murdered, in a similar manner to Fuller, in 1862 on
Waldron Island. Murders in like circumstances had occurred on Canada’s
Saltspring Island. In the 1880's, killings committed on Orcas Island were
still being blamed on “Skookum Tom” but nothing could be proved.

167


Joe Sweeney, pioneer Friday Harbor merchant. and family
Courtesy Mrs. Letth Wade. Friday Harbor

Governor Ferry had scen to it that military rule of the San
Juans was yielded up to the civil government of Whatcom
County, which was thus able finally to collect taxes on the
island. (They found, to their chagrin, that these revenues were
more than offset by the cost of county services — road building,
for example — which islanders immediately began iniportuning
them for; but that was Whatcom County’s problem.)

Perhaps the chief difference, so far as the daily lives of
islanders were concerned, was over the customs situation. Formerly
a note from one of the camp commanders was all the authoriz-
ation one needed to bring articles on or off the island, or trade
San Juan produce for goods obtainable at mainland towns on
cither side of the border. Any settler could catch the tide in his
canoe or sailboat, make the trip to Victoria and trade garden
truck for staples, tools and the like. Those who lacked a boat —
or the inclination to risk the modest dangers of such a trip —
could have their trading done for them by someone like Harry
Dwyer, master of the sloop Alarm, which made regular trips
between Victoria and the Islands.

Young Dwyer, a ham-handed, perpetually-grinning, oversized
Nova Scotian, lived in Victoria where he moonlighted as a
fireman with the “Tiger” Engine Company. Just about everybody
in town knew the popular Captain Harry, who bowed to no man
in his zest for life. And in the fall of 1872, life was mighty good
to Dwyer: his boat was paid for, business was booming: he had
money in the bank: and he had just met the most beautiful and
rapturously charming girl the world had ever produced. When
the object of his dreams felt her heart palpitate correspondingly
for this strapping man of the sea, their joy became boundless
on

as the blue salt chuck Dwyer supposed he would be sailing

and on forever.

They were married in September, to the joyous pealing of the

Tiger Company's engine-house bells.
But Dwyer’s world tumbled a few short weeks later. With the

161


San Juans awarded to America, a line was drawn down the
middle of Haro Strait—a line Harry could not see from the
deck of the Alarm but which might as well have been built
of brick or stone. For no longer could one sail with freight
on a bee-line the thirteen sheltered miles from Victoria to
San Juan; now one must clear the United States custom house at
Port Townsend, detouring dozens of miles across the treacherous
Strait of Juan de Fuca, and pay a sizeable duty on many of the
articles being imported.

To San Juan farmers, the change meant looking for new
markets; for Harry Dwyer, it meant looking for a new job.

About this time Dwyer’s lovely bride, Selina Jane, blushed and
whispered a bit of news in his ear, and Harry decided — what
with one thing and another — the time had come to give up the
sea-faring way. Providentially, he had bought a piece of run-down
farmland a few years before, over on San Juan Island. Harry
decided to sell his sloop, fix up the place and settle down.

The Dwyers were welcomed with genuine warmth by their
new neighbers, especially the Jim) Hannah family, long-time
friends and former customers of Dwyer’s. The Hannahs put
Selina up for the first few days while Harry neatened up the
cabin on his place. Evenings were spent around the big fireplace
in the Hannahs’ comfortable home, varning over the day’s news,

They talked, for instance, on the strange disappearance of a
neighbor, William Fuller. Fuller, an elderly, recently-retired
Englishman, was a house-joiner by trade, builder of some
important homes over Victoria way. With his full beard — except
for a roundish, clean-shaven spot at the chin-—he was the
picture of British dignity, and although he didn’t parade his
wealth around, he was obviously rather well-to-do.

Fuller had turned up missing one day about the time the
British troops were evacuated. A friend calling at his home found
the doors all standing open, and Fuller's dog Jinnie in a great
frenzy. After several days spent fruitlessly scouring the nearby

162

woods, islanders were led by the frantic Jinnie to a fern flat under
an aged madrona tree. There, hidden beneath a pile of heavy
field stones, Fuller’s battered and lifeless body was discovered.

The American Camp physician announced Fuller’s death was
due to a single bullet, fired at close range into the back of the
victim’s head. Afterward, the body had been brutally mangled
by the great stones which were heaped over it. But no one could
produce a clue to the murderer’s identity.

The settlers’ suspicions fell on the Indians. Fuller had had an
altercation, a few years before, with some Northern red-skins —
in the process of which he had killed several. Now, most islanders
felt, their friends had returned to exact vengeance.

Ed Warbass, the island’s solidest citizen, was just then tapped
by Whatcom County to be the new justice of the peace. Frankly
worried, Warbass’ first act was to write to the Army, asking them
to maintain their post on the island for a time, in case Fuller's
death augured more Indian troubles to come.

Meanwhile Harry Dwyer had secured a pair of horses and was
industriously plowing the fields, reclaimed from swampland, in
front of his house. March had been unusually wet and windy,
April little better, and now in mid-May Harry was hustling to get
caught up with the spring’s work. Selina Jane spent her days
happily on the front porch, watching Harry make furrows in
the field before her while she knitted little things for the baby
they were expecting.

One Monday morning Dwyer took time out from his plowing

to pay a visit on a neighboring farmer, Benjamin Terrell, who
had a calf for sale. Dwyer bought the calf and left, driving the
animal awkwardly down the four-mile trail to his farm. Ben
Terrell and wife were amused — as a country gentleman, Dwyer
was still a pretty good boatman. Still, they admired his industry.
They were sure he would do well, with time.

Four mornings later the Terrells awoke to find the calf had

163


come back to them during the night. Now they were not so
amused, Dwyer was not only awkward, he was careless: one of
them would have to take half the morning from their own work
to see about the animal's return, and all because Harry had
forgotten to close a gate,

After breakfast Mrs. Terrell started down the trail to tell
Dwyer to come get his errant calf, As she approached the Dwyer
place she caught sight of Harry in the field, the horses standing
patiently still in a half-plowed furrow. Dwyer, the reins looped
about his heavy body, was on the ground next to the plow
handles, where Mrs. Terrell supposed he was tinkering with the
plow, or catching a bit of rest. Or more likely, he had seen her
coming and was having a little joke.

“You can’t fool me, Mr. Dwyer,” she called gaily as she
cami up to him, but he didn't look up. Then she saw the back
of his head was gone.

Dried blood crusted the edges of the wound. Around it buzzed
a knot of large green flies. Under the exhausted horses, great
gaping holes had been pawed out of the loam in the animals’
attempt to escape; but their bitted mouths were unable to pull
free from the heavy man lying dead across the reins,

Mrs. Terrell’s screams echoed against the distant hills, but no
other sound came to her in reply. Casting a horrified glance
toward the ominously silent house at the edge of the field, and
sensing it contained nothing she wished to sce, she fled down the
path.

By noon, alarm was spreading all across the island. Ben Terrell
had run to the Hannah farm and found only Mrs. Hannah and
her daughter, Lila, at home. These two women agreed to return
to the Dwyers’ place and look for Selina. while Terrell went to
fetch Ed Warbass.

Minerva and Lila Hannah averted their eyes as they rushed
past the grisly scene in the field and approached the Dwyers’
house, linding the door hanging broken on its hinges they entered

164

and saw, inside, bits of newly-sewn clothes and a pair of scissors
scattered about the floor. A trunk stood Open, its contents strewn
helter-skelter along with bits of glass from a shattered front
window.

At the entrance to the bedroom the Hannahs found the dead
body of Sclina Jane Dwyer. In her hands, and drenched with her
blood, were the front-door key and a scarlet baby dress. A
broadbrimmed “sundown” bonnet sat askew on her head, which
was discolored with bruises. Next to her, propped neatly against
the wall, was Dwyer’s shotgun, its stock black with smears of
dry blood.

By telegraph, news of the tragedy was flashed to Victoria.
There the couple's countless friends were shocked, anguished,
unable to believe. Soon, all fire-house flags were drooping at
half-mast. The Tiger Company, together with Dwyer’s lodge,
collected $500 overnight to be given as a reward for the killer's
capture. Distrustful, perhaps, that the Americans on the scene
could handle a murder investigation properly, Victoria unofficially
sent Robert McMillan as a special officer to San Juan to help in
the detective work.

3ut by this time Justice Warbass was holding a very competent
inquest over the deceased, and had collected some important
evidence: a list of Property missing from the Dwyers’ house

/

(two watches and a small amount of money); a description of
boot-prints found next to Dwyer’s in the newly plowed field (size
7 shoes, with seven rows of nails); and another item, which
Warbass was keeping mum about for the time being. Then he
released the bodies, which were taken to Victoria for burial.

The double funeral was preceeded by “the most melancholy
cortege ever formed in our city,” according to the Colonist’s
emotional account. The procession moved to the slow accompani-
ment of “the melancholy throb of the engine-house bells (the
self-same bells that only a few months before pealed for joy on
the occasion of the wedding of the man and woman whose

165


his part in it. In that case, well, Charles McKay would move
heaven and earth to see Joe escaped the hangman after all.

Joe rose with alacrity to this bait and was soon dictating
to an accommodating gaoler his version of how the crime was
committed — a version in which he, Joe, stood innocently by
and watched the friend, Charlie, shoot Dwyer from behind.

“T then saw Dwyer’s wife come out of the house,” Joe related.
“Charlie ran to the house and looked in at the window, having
taken [the Hannahs’] gun out of my hands. I then saw him
shoot through the window at Mrs. Dwyer.”

Wounded, the young woman began pleading for the life of her
unborn child, Joe went on, at the same time retreating into the
back part of the house.

“Charlie then ran around to the kitchen door and came back
to the window and shot at Mrs. Dwyer again. I then saw Mrs.
Dwyer fall on the floor. As she was falling, she fired off a gun
which I saw in her hands.

“We then broke down the kitchen back door and entered the
house. Mrs. Dwyer lay on the floor dead. Charlie kicked her
three times on the head and face.

“T took the gun that was lying by Mrs. Dwyer’s side and placed
it against the wall. In doing so, I got blood on my hand, which
accounts for the blood on [the Hannahs’] gun. Charlie told
me to go out and watch that no one came, while he was searching
the boxes.”

Charlie’s search of “the boxes” netted the pair their trifling
booty, including the two watches of Dwycr's. Asked where the
watches were now, Joe described their hiding place in the Kanaka
district of Victoria, where police soon recovered them.

Everyone supposed Indian Charlie would by now be long gone,

but one of the lawyers ran across him strolling blithely down one
of Victoria’s main streets, obviously unaware that he was again
being sought by police. The canny barrister told him Joe wanted
to see him, and Charlie walked unsuspectingly into a cell, where-

170

upon the jailor slammed the barred door, The following day
both prisoners were again brought before the Police Court judge,
Indian Charlie objecting angrily that he had been “framed.”

Unfortunately for Joe, Charlie was able to account rather
convincingly for his time on the afternoon he supposedly spent
butchering the Dwyers. Nor was it any help to the Kanaka youth
that no prints of Charlie’s bare feet had been found in the
furrow next to the murdered man, while boot-prints just like Joe’s
were all over the place. On the other hand, Joe’s detailed recital
of the way the murder had been committed, and particularly his
ability to tell just where the stolen watches had been secreted,
were about as incriminating as a photograph, portraying him in
the act, would have been.

As if that weren’t enough, an American official now produced
the Hannahs’ missing shot pouch, which Joe had borrowed, and
which Ed Warbass later found on a root-house at the rear of the
Dwyer home.

Next day a crestfallen Joe, who knew an all-up game when
he saw it, called in his jailor and confessed to the murder of
William Fuller months before. Again he implicated an Indian
companion — this time a Songish by the name of Kill who, he
said, had a string of quail traps near Fuller’s place.

The elderly Englishman had been destroying Kill’s traps, Joe
said, and the two boys went to Fuller’s house to complain about
it. Fuller told them the traps had been catching his chickens, and
assured them he would continue to break up the traps as fast as
they were set.

Peeved, the boys lured Fuller out of his house, Joe continued,
by pretending to lead him to a spot where — they said — one
of his sheep was caught in a tree. A hundred yards from the
house they shot him from behind and, after pounding his head
with rocks to make certain he was dead (and helping themselves
to the money in his pockets) they hid the body by covering it
with boulders.

171


than hanging. Boyce said Jater the only sign of tears was when
Joe said good-bye to her,

Joe walked stolidly up the beach to the scaffold, accompanied
by the two sheriffs and a Catholic priest. His hands were
unbound: he had begged Boyce not to put irons on them, and
promised not to give any trouble. As he trudged unfalteringly
this last mile — literally — it seemed to one San Juan islander
just as though “he were going to some grand party.”

Stephen Boyce was not sure whether the boy’s remarkable
composure was making his job easier or harder. “Will you be
afraid tomorrow, Joe?” he had asked the night before. “Oh, no,”
Joe replied. “I hope you won't be afraid. I want to die quick.”
To which the sheriff promised, “Be a good boy, and I will treat
you as well as I can.”

An even greater crowd was waiting by the gallows. At ten
o'clock virtually the whole town — children included — was on
hand to see Joe trot up the steps to the platform and then, asked
if he had anything he wished to say, the youngster doffed his
soldier’s cap and addressed the crowd.

“People, I am very sorry for what I have done,” said the
teen-aged murderer of William Fuller and Harry and Selina
Dwyer. “Now I have to go. All hands — good-bye.”

Sheriff Boyce reached for Joe's hands and began securing them
behind his back, and at this the boy’s confident expression

suddenly went slack, his knees nearly buckling beneath him.
Boyce nodded to Father Manns, who began speaking quietly to
the youth. A black cap was dropped over his head, the noose
fixed in place. Boyce nodded again and the priest stepped to one
side. At five minutes past ten o’clock, Sheriff Boyce knocked away
the bolt holding the trap, and Joe's body was thrust into the

emptiness beneath.

Because the rope was new and stiff, and the young boy small
and light, the hangman’s knot failed to slip tight as it should
have. Instead of a merciful, quick snapping of the spinal column

174

== the purpose of the knot — the nooge aimply cut off the boy’s
wind and began slowly choking him to death.

Horrified, the men on the scaffold looked helplessly at one
another for a moment. Finally Boyce grasped the quivering rope
in both hands, swung himself over the gaping trap and kicked
hard on the knot, closing it. But it was twenty minutes before
the doctor could pronounce the boy dead.

Hundreds carried the vision of Joe’s last anguish to their own
death-beds. Port Townsend never had another hanging, and
when after twenty years the next San Juan County murderer
was condemned to Joe's fate, Stephen Boyce — who could still
hear Kanaka Joe’s confident wish to “die quick” in his ears —
was on hand to see the deed done in far different circumstances.


and finding there were seven of them, he returned in hasty
excitement for another look at the prints left by the killer. His
examination convinced him that Joe was the man who had
walked with the unsuspecting Dwyer before blowing the ex-
seaman’s brains out.

McMillan was the star witness at Joe’s hearing, held before a
Victoria magistrate early in June. Kie, Indian Charlie and an
indigent Kanaka named Kami were also placed at the bar, where
a lawyer asked on behalf of the United States that the prisoners
be held pending extradition.

McMillan’s evidence was given with the air of a man presenting

an open and shut case. There were Joe’s boots which, he swore,
exactly matched the killer’s prints. There was the gun Joe

admitted borrowing from Minerva Hannah, and the odd way he
acted when returning it. His brother Kie was along when the
gun was borrowed, and Joe himself had implicated Indian
Charlie. Just where Kami fit into the picture was not yet clear;
but he was a countryman of Joe’s and a most suspicious character
no matter how you looked at it.

Promptly the court-appointed defense barrister began to tear
McMillan’s case into shreds. Under cross-examination the special
officer admitted he ‘‘measured” the prints left by the killer with
a bit of willow stick, No, he did not have the stick with him
when he examined Joe's boots. That time he had used the span
of his hand as a measure. Yes, it was true, the prints left at the
murder scene had been all but obliterated by rubber-neckers
when he got there. Yes, it was also true that seven rows of nails
was a very common feature of American-made shoes.

Turning with an indignant snort, the defense attorney asked
the magistrate to dismiss the prisoners. “If men are to be judged
by the number of rows of pegs in their boots,’ he declaimed
acidly, “about half those now in court should be placed in the
dock.” He drew applause when he concluded that “Kie was

168

arrested because he happened to have a brother who had seven
rows of nails in his boots.”

His Honor held that the evidence was pretty thin indeed, and
he was inclined to let all four prisoners go free. But the American
representative, alarmed, demanded that Joe, at the very least,
be held. The magistrate responded that he would give him one
weck to come up with more tangible evidence against Joe. The
other three were discharged.

At this point Charles McCoy, or McKay, the spunky Fourth-
of-July flag-raiser of 1859, re-enters our story. McKay was now
industriously farming the place he had staked out in Pig War
days, and since it was not far from the Kanaka Bay settlement,
he had gotten to know Joe rather well — in fact, had done him
some considerable favors recently, and supposed the young half-
breed looked on him as a trustworthy friend. But McKay, a
long-time pal of Harry Dwyer’s (McKay, too, hailed from Nova
Scotia) was pained beyond toleration to imagine his compatriot’s
murderer being let off by a Canadian judge for lack of evidence.
McKay caught the next tide and headed for Victoria.

Oozing compassion, McKay entered Joe’s cell for a fatherly
visit. What a pity to see him languishing so; surely no one who
knew him as McKay did could think the boy capable of such a
dastardly crime! But then the authorities were out to hang
someone, and he would have to be honest about it, things looked
mighty black for poor, innocent Joe. Yes, Joe would no doubt
hang for the crime.

Now that evil-hearted Indian Charlie, McKay went on; there
was a villainous type — one could easily imagine someone like
Charlie committing such a foul murder. What a shame Charlie
would doubtless go scot-free! Actually, given the least shred of
evidence, the police would far rather hang him than Joe for the
crime. Why, even supposing Joe had been mixed up in. the
affair — tricked into participation, for example — by turning
state’s evidence there was every chance of his being pardoned for

169


Joe then returned to the house, he said, and swiped a pair of
Fuller’s shoes, which — he added with a wry grin—he wore
to the old gentleman’s funeral a week or more later,

Kill, picked up by police, vehemently protested his innocence.
After some weeks spent in the Victoria pokey, during which
time no evidence could be found to support Joe’s allegations
against him, the Songish was discharged.

In the meantime Joe had changed his stories once more, now
claiming he alone was responsible for the Dwyers’ deaths, where-
upon the Canadian police judge again released Indian Charlie —
over strenuous objections from the Americans, all of whom were
convinced Charlie was indeed a partner in the Dwyer killings.
"Charlie declined to risk being brought to the bar a third time
and lit out while he had the chance, returned to the bosom of his
Indian brothers up north— and was never heard from again.
Doubtless his own tribesmen, who were also satisfied of his guilt,
quictly executed him for the crime of bringing disrepute on their
tribal name.

Kanaka Joe was extradited to the juridical mercies of Wash-
ington Territory late in October. It was a crisp fall morning when
he was loaded aboard the Eliza Anderson, rather pale from the
long months of confinement, a bit paunchy from the good
jailhouse food and little exercise, but cocky and self-pleased with
the attention he was getting from the assemblage of reporters.
The newsmen noted he “seemed as happy as though he were
starting on a wedding tour, or was about to visit a circus.” But
when they asked questions, he merely grinned at them. When
someone expressed pity over his probable fate, he burst into
laughter.

Joe's escorts were taking no chances. As soon as they had him
on board the steamer, a chain was welded around one leg and
locked to a stanchion of the vessel.

Joe’s trial for the Dwyers’ murder took place during the

172

November term of District Court at Port Townsend. Half the
citizens of San Juan Island, it seemed, were there. Evidence
given by Minerva Hannah regarding the borrowed gun and shot
pouch were conclusive, according to her daughter Lila’s account,
written long years afterward. The trial lasted three weeks, but
no one had any doubt what its outcome was to be. Kanaka
Joe was convicted, and sentenced to hang the following March.

By the time the execution date came around, Washington’s
Legislature had passed an act taking the formerly disputed islands
from Whatcom County and creating instead a new county to be
known as San Juan. Steve Boyce, a popular, no-nonsense farmer
who was a veteran of the California and Fraser River gold rushes,
and a San Juan settler since the Pig War, was elected sheriff. In
this capacity Boyce went to Port Townsend to supervise the
hanging.

Port Townsend had never had an execution before, and towns-
people prepared for it as for a picnic. A site for the gallows was
chosen to accommodate the great crowd expected — on the
beach at Point Hudson, close to the present-day site of
Chetzemoka Park. A nearby brewery prepared for a record day’s
business.

The appointed morning dawned raw and bleak, but saloons
and stores opened early to a thriving trade. Visitors had been
arriving from all points on the Sound for days; someone from
San Juan noted that particularly large numbers of Indians had
come for the gala occasion.

. At least two hundred people were on hand in town as Boyce
and his Jefferson County colleague, Sheriff J. J. Van Bokkelen
(another Pig War actor) brought Joe from the jailhouse a little
after nine-thirty, A reporter, set to glimpse a “ruffianly demon,”
noted with a shock that the prisoner seemed nothing more or
less than “a mere boy” to him.

Joe’s last meal — a hearty breakfast — was prepared for him
by Mrs. Van Bokkelen, who felt the boy needed mothering more

173


site fame
a? fe Oo

ae ge
"Tweed

se ee

hee

Today the Stars and Stripes fly peacefully over the Americans’ lonely redoubt on San Juan.

BILL HOLM
Kanaka Joe, youthful San Juan Island killer.
Artist’s re-creation based on descriptions
of newspaper reporters.
e

National Park Service.

Elisha P. Ferry, governor of Washington Territory
at time of the boundary settlement,
Washington State Historical Society, Tacoma.

Ted bea

phe HS

ts al


*

Touthold

communion | foday
a the Rallowys.w.
€ execution;

‘Machine Conte

BR,

The contests took ' place:

aga chapter pf the
of Bank’ Cle

peal machine, in
lever -mathine, yy N
| Feeord of 10 minutes am 52
_ The: envelope »
won, by

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: 3 Le Oia.” ‘ z
i that fact has been recog:
time, but it has not


« s
POR PO ROR OR ORL

obes «

der of her ‘Husband.

anged for ling af
“Years -Ago-—~
t Manifesting»

ee eo ie

ural :
Ft . yomart made. no answer. The
B sprung at 1:13 and 154 1 ininlute,
f physicians declared Mrs, Rogers

*

iT Hempt was mate! this niorn-
kecure a. stay. Governor Charles.
‘made arrangements to be w ith-
reach ‘of the state officials and
jsut. Montpelier... The governor
aby. E.’B. Flymm,. Mrs. Rogers”
j--who presented a number” of
‘relating to insanity in Mr

y abandoned - early ‘today: The
POT

ja murderess at 19'ehe 13° but 22;
day ‘nét*for- her- death:

x

over the men ‘she met an
#iwere many.” In ‘4902. “having
‘affections of three’ then, . “she en-.
fd the dedth of. her. husband,
HH. Rogers, with the, aid of an-
imirer, Leon Perham, to.the end

GOES ‘tO SCAFFOLD "£0 vit PEN

“} Phait, ‘the Snobhdmish
made guod his pa that he would” 90.

> Warden; Kees and other- ‘prison. offcia}s,

trudged - along , between the. guards. y with-.

famil The gover ie "yefused to |
+ the cote further | oe,
for the con mned. woman was |

the i

areer of Mrs, a Régemiade been al %
ble’ one. A wife at 16: years o#)

3 tynorant
taved she-still had «strange an- “5

TY FOR MURDER, WITHOUT ae
Oo ae

THE EXECUTION 1S QUICKLY OVER: i
pganes ANY HITCR—ONLY: ;
&, OFFICIALS PRESENT,

“WAALS WE

tA ie

3 his. death: Hy
‘With @ stoieism: tat sheprhed 8 fre fiz. :
clade and the ‘big. crowd “of spectators:

: Tininig the” ‘prison 7 ‘Walls. _McPhail trudged.’

from” his veal. in. ‘the’ prison. hospital to.
the gallows. this: inorning and. paid the
penalty. for murdering Fred Alderson, the-

ps

vards this morniitg ‘made a Poctat pietuke. ;

‘|. The day wits just” breakiig: when- Me:
Phail, ‘accompanied. by. two gs Chap=

laine Le Corne, -Res

emerged from: the, epticony: hospital: and
cominenced > the. ‘march’; ‘th seattold,
fust. discernible. in. ‘the. gloom: 33 :

out ‘word,and: never, once, ‘showed PS white

be a
tripped up “the” “stairs. “and: Orit.” the’ trap, ‘

ance at So elceh apiaiel pues

*

app, = hie bipennate

Pee. marry | a thigd low efpMau- }

; ae Herne es May: ‘st, 1

|
’
|

3 skate; ite, bicod poi
ing Witt: W, “freqiently “attac “ks a
“suffering frow this diseabe.

At. 8. o'clock * Senator Mitchell §
ae a diabelic conia, and did not’

until shortly tier B
He hemorrhage was rené

pry au ae easy

this- ste at, 11: 40 ) v’clock: of: compl
cations which” resulted in blood poison-:
ing following, the. ‘Lane *

ot etlce:

ight ¥ iowa ‘close porte henio
age Mr. Mitchel was seized: with 2

‘vere. mjromiting spell, Which. greatly saj

At Se nator Mitchell's s bedside wher
eaed away! were his son-in-law, J
O° Chapman. of Taconiay JH Pe


ISUDAEY 'y act

cans, w cin i
a The governor yefused to
ae Turther.
ae we ondemined: woman was

* bandoned easty, todays “The

deputy chosen. to spring the | —

rived during. the might aud: con-
arramgesients | were peers

career of Mrs. ‘Roge 3 has becn a HE ‘

‘kable’ one. A wife at 16 years of
fd a murderess at 19‘she 1s but. 22
e day -sét for her death. Ignorant?
epraved she still had a strange in-
‘e over the men she met, and ea)
fers) were amiany-* “In 1902), paving
he affections. of three ‘men, she en-
issed the death. of her: husband,
is H. Rogers, with the, aid ‘offan-
mdmirer, Leon Perham, to.the’ end
he might marry & anne lover, Mau-
snapp.
ham confessed Fok is serving a life
yee here. Mrs.’ Rogers was -born in
Falis, No Y¥.,;and when married
ved. to .Bennington, Vermont, “where
gurder was committed. - ee

LOMA FORGER
> GOES ES 10. PRISON |

t Who Rah pan “MIT” in chicago and
2 His o nteeael Are.’

selling ‘estat Jeertificatess* “ad.
incompetent. 5 students to “prac:
Jacob H. Smyer. acdentist with
5730. the MasonieTemple’ ‘yesterday,
ntenced, by Judge: ‘Smyth«te: pay
L000 fine to the iyepitentiorye sander.
determinate acts. 23 bid acre
L Smyser was secretary “of the. ‘state.
Hof dental examiners. under Gover~)’
Fanner and used “his ‘office gecording
‘eviderice’to defraud the state: “He
Fasslated. by Edward Flynn sho. was
erly an investigator employed by the
bl board who also was sentenced. to.
mtentiary and to pay a fine “of:

two inen were “indicted” in. “4901:
onspirncy to- “defraud the state a
after Dr. Smyser had ‘resigned: from
card.

iscovery, was made. that a et

of dental students ; “who nad: not ns

fe Sing requisite number of years at,
1 college were securing eertifi-’
BeBereral of the incompetent stl
Is located in Germany. Their -in-

ney attracted the attention of

government and com laint ~ was.

re “quthorities. against | and:
‘the z oe of, pup lene mills”.

POR Ps Burr G00b

ANTINOPLE, Dep, 8.2 The |.

_ dors of the six powers in-a con-
accepted some ‘modification va

by the porte to the original
f Macedonia.

‘ rae Sénator ante: Be Stet
‘| this’

és yesterday) smorning:

4 ‘Senator “Mitchell's” “physician, -
5 ‘along. into the: ‘afternoon® when | “it. was!

é decided: to remove,

ND;

morning. “pt 11:40 o'clock: of ‘compli-.
‘eations which’ “yeautlted in blood. poison,
ing: ‘following the. removal of “four: teetlt,
The ‘yemorrhage’
“which ‘began: when” the j teeth: were: eX)
tracted y éontinued, despite the etforts.

until | well: 4

“him to.'@ “hospital,:

“Ww here ‘every ; effort’ ‘was mnadé,t0) stop t th

ot flow “of sblood.: This: was, temporarily 4¢=

head coal then-turning, to Reatchy the cur-

jous’ crowd ; of: “spectators ~ onthe “wall, a
above: him. The guards quickly ‘adjusted |

_ Warden. ‘Reed vaskeg “Mi

ed. ‘and the’ signal’ given,”

 phunged : ‘through: the, trap’ to the’ end of |
the rope. , )The, trap” was. sprung. at 6:46, )
apd twenty-four. minutes: Hater: MePhail |,
was pronounced
of the body, by:
showed? ithe neck’

¢Phail’ spent, 2

tired” and slept u until” 1223

awoke ac talked with the death matehs,

“for-an hour... He went to, sleep again and.
was ‘awakened-at 6 o'clock. “MePhail ate
‘a, hearty, “preakfast and’ talked” freely
with. ‘the (prison, - officials ee ministers)
while waiting: for’ dayb i re

Yesterday eventing. Me!
“that he, Killed ‘Alderson,

sonecied,
but said he way

the ‘time. from

The al at
< 98. and the’ verdict. was }%
, defense was :

: Senator: Mitchell’

“dead: ‘The examination it
the attending physicians |

: ‘vented the ‘most

complished. "about-7 o'clock: last, ev ening.
had been suffering, from
for naome | tim! was: Any
ee 088 of blood wea 4

dipbdtes™
feeble cure

el +
* died®

extent. is that he.

New YORK; Dec.

H. MeGurdy as general mana* |
Geet te

Mutual Life ‘Insurance - eom-

tees today, and. pit The sere
takes ‘effect per
“Thomas | _ Ryan”

ing imeurance an

tountry: } has ever seen, W
Nowed af the: “Equitable had

ands of. marecehras

oRy an said: t ¥
Ww Marina" pele ‘a sharé in
-thase.2 Ryaw 3 refused emai effets:
‘Under. insistent » :questioning + Ryan.
"pated that Hairiman snot threatened
-him with the instigation, “Of an: investi-
gation of ” the | insurance ~ companies” if”
Ryan:
im the de
* Ryan ead he ade <girected his’ ‘geen!
to make the trusteeship. of the ‘Equitable
stock perpetish because he, ‘did not want
his to ever: ‘eontrok | the tf

“g-The eal :

} pany,’ was: presented. to the board of truss

| months last

ye not. let Harriman participate :

Pit 8. aelock: ena
into: a diabelir: conia,-and did ‘no
conseiouncss ‘u ‘shortly «aft
ight hen. the hemwrrhage was
nd. wed ‘intermittently® duri
nigh Following close upon thé h
geo M | Mitchell. was, seized wil
omiting spell, eee ce

ig y
‘and Mrs. May
a ee Continued from “Page Foul Fou

: PAYMENT OF ci

st! ‘Treavurer ee with” Fatate 0

“Latter® Watt. Total® Amou
Ps ithid Three, Yeatte!

‘The treasurer paid to ‘the stat
he“sam collecteu, by ‘the ¢ity du
.¢ from January
“which, deaves, ‘a_ balance of a lit
than $19,000, th-be cared fote
The state officers made a defin &
. pos: position, whieh” ‘it. is- Yelieved . wi

“ceptable * to “the © -equneil. They
however, to have. the account cle
the pee rthe* ea

“offi

gin. work om

a exeaite Expects t
g Paying ‘Hewitt Soon Afte
os — First.

i‘ on the ‘paving ‘of, Bev
nue soon after the first off y

‘} is. how making: finkl a

the. commencement” ‘of his contfa
4 Aer ia 3 2 so far ry

Work, when it is started, aye

bes, tractor, will be pashed ahead as

as possible. “The weather will
figure, but with fairl)


24 True Detective Mysteries

) Nes J
+
Lo] .

we

iy i n° Rs ~
v.82 RAY |. Tol Be

Os bike

(‘ah ge .

ian

a tg

(Above) Officers examine the key evidence in this
gruesome case—the trunk that held the victim, and the
rope that bound it. Left to right: Deputy Coroner
Koepflie, Captain Tenant, and Doctor Corson, Coroner

Frank and Adeline Matthews adjoined that of the Mahoneys.
Between 7 and 7:30 of the evening of the sixteenth, Mrs.
Mahoney said to her neighbor:

“Well, I guess this is the last supper we will-have here for
six months or so; although we may be gone only a month.”

Adeline Matthews then went to prepare a bath for her hus-

band and a few minutes later, while he was in the tub, he
could hear through the thin partition, the voices of Jim and
Kate Mahoney.

“This meat is tough, Jim,’’ said Mrs. Mahoney. “You
ought to be more careful about what you let those butchers
give you.”’ :

“Oh, I buy my meat like I buy popcorn,’
husband. “I just ask for a bag.”

And so it seemed that on what was supposed to be their
last evening in Seattle, everything was serene in the Mahoney
household. After that evening meal the apartment next door
grew quiet. The Matthews neither saw nor heard anything
else of Kate Mahoney.

,

,

answered the

Bo about 10 o’clock that night they heard a hammering
in the Mahoney apartment, and they saw an old-fashioned
round-top trunk sitting in the hallway, bound with a heavy,
hemp rope. ;

One thing was plainly evident: Jim and Kate Mahoney
were both gone, for Detective Ballard searched the city for
them, without results.

Three weeks went by—three anxious weeks for the man
who could not get Jim Mahoney, the thirty feet of hemp rope
and the unslacked lime out of his ‘mind. During that time
Ballard contacted two nieces of Kate Mahoney: One of the
nieces, Mrs. Kate Stewart, who lived in Vancouver, B.'C.,
said she had received a letter from her aunt from St. Paul;
like news came from Mrs. Carrie Stewart,’ of Wenatchee,
Washington.

And right in the midst of these investigations, Jim Ma-
honey returned to Seattle, saying he had come back to take
care of his wife’s business affairs, while she had gone on East,
intending to visit in Cuba. He was to join her in New York

early in June, at the Irving Hotel, 26 Gramercy Park

South.

“Seems to me you detectives ask a lot of personal

questions that are none of your business,’’ said Ma.

honey to the officer who had interrogated him.

“Oh, that’s all right, Jim,’’ answered the officer

“No offense I hope; just checking up a bit.”’

“T know,’’ sarcastically replied Mahoney. ‘Neve

give a man a chance to forget he has a record, do you?’

And apparently Jim Mahoney had nothing to hide
He worked in the open. On the very day that hi
arrived, he went to the real estate company whicl
had been handling his wife’s rentals and showed then

a letter, bearing her signature, in which she had em

powered him to collect all rents from that date on
He went to the garage where her car was stored ant
presented another letter which gave him possessioi
of the auto. A third letter, signed, ‘‘Kate Mahoney,’
got him access to the box in the Perkins Safe-Deposit

which held his wife’s valuables.

Ballard could find nothing that was not in apple-pi
order. All these people were familiar with the woman’
signature. They did not question the genuineness o

the handwriting.

Balked at every turn, Ballard turned now to thi
underworld for a check-up ‘on the man he suspected

He located a former inmate of Walla Walla Peni

ALE tnd kart decided K Swen

WW) Alhamin. Jo Mawena fan

ark : wel sae: A> ee own.
Leg

Se KMarecren deli
Are iz Psp
“bE -
Pa “ iY

Fa. the ing, hs net hey Keon:
ae tne teased “fet. “Yore, sah.

Peo

First page of letter bearing the forged signature
sent by the murderer from St. Paul to one of his
victim’s nieces

tentiary who knew
friended this man, :
him in return,

“T want to know,’
a large chamois-skin
one ring which is set

Ballard had learn
diamond ring above
allowed any one to t

A couple of night:
been on a “‘party’’ \
diamonds and the bl
as bait before a pret

Now Ballard went
time they were read:
to Prosecuting Attor

The prosecutor agi
was afoot; either mi
weak link might be
letters which had bi
town. He wondered
had Kate Mahoney be
was called into the c:
structions to detern
the signatures on the
were genuine.

For this purpose,
the letters which hac
ten from St. Paul, o:
Kate Mahoney, to |}
Vancouver. At th
learned that about
writing the woman «
sign her name. She
with her, when she
left Seattle, a numbe
can Express Compan)
Checks. These canc
were also brought
gether with other san
handwriting, for sc
amination.

JN the photograph
companying this
shown two of the cas
ers’ checks. Signati
top of each check, n
and “A-1’’ respect
known to have been
Mrs. Mahoney wher
chased them. Signs
and “B-l’’ at the
these checks are tw
ments which had bee
genuine by those who
checks. See page 95.

In exhibit No. 2 (p:
four additional genuine
in No, 8, (page 22) ar
tional endorsements.

Examining the gen)
tures “A’’ and “A-5’’
microscope, I found tl!
lady had a_ peculis
which, when viewed u
magnification, gave h
a distinctive line quali
only to her. The read
tion is here called to
.ing of the line in each
natures.

From my examinati
determined that Kate
was suffering from
physical and psychok
dition, which was re
her writing just as c
surely as electrical anc
recording instruments,
tached to various n
in the laboratory, r


94

Cross for this work, but Agnes considered
the blonde girl too timorous. French
added the objection that Mary had made
so many visits to her brother that the
officials knew who she was.

So it was planned that Agnes should
carry the explosives and guns on her
person to the prison. French was to con-
duct her on a tour of the institution and
she would secretly leave the stuff in
Hall’s cell. Agnes was also instructed
to hire a rented car and leave it parked
one hundied feet from the prison; and
then go to Detroit by bus where Hall
was to join her.

OXCE the material for the escape was
in the cell, the rest looked easy to the
plotters. The dynamite sticks were to be
capped and fused by Cross, placed in
bottles stolen from the medicine ward
and used for hand grenades. The time
picked for the big break was the noon
hour when the other prisoners were lined
up for lunch. Cross and Hall believed
it would take only a moment to hurl a
few dynamite caps at the men who were
guarding the convicts in the yard. Pande-
monium would follow.

The guards that survived, they thought,
would be so busy trying to prevent a
wholesale break by the line-up prisoners
that the two plotters would have no diffi-
culty in reaching the outer wall. If any
guards followed they would be shot down
by Hall. Cross would take care of the
guard stationed on the northeast corner of
the wall. A few hand grenades, it was ex-
pected, would knock him right off his
perch and the next guard was more than
twenty-five rods away.

At the base the wall is twenty feet wide
at this part of the yard. But besides
those used for grenades, enough sticks of
dynamite remained to blast a hole com-
pletely through this.

All that remained after that was ta
reach the rented car in which Agnes had
been instructed to leave the keys. Prison
officials declare that it is quite possible that
the desperate plan might have worked once
the guns and dynamite had reached Hall.

True Detective Mysteries

Guards armed with sub-machine guns
took Cross and Hall, manacled, back to
Jackson Prison. Agnes Schoonmaker,
Watson and French were locked up in-
communicado in Dearborn Headquarters.
Miss Cross was told she would have to
appear at the arraignment as a police
witness. After a conference between Dis-
trict Attorney Toy, Chief Brooks and
District Attorney Harry Boardman of
Jackson County, it was decided to try all
five prisoners in Jackson where the penal-
ties for law-breaking are stiffer than in
Dearborn.

In a few days the Jackson County
Grand Jury handed down _ indictments
against the quintette. True to his promise,
Chief Brooks had Mary Cross held only
as a state witness. Balex was completely
exonerated.

The Grand Jury charged Hall and
Cross with “conspiracy to plot an es-
cape.” The two guards and Agnes were
accused with “conspiring to aid the
escape.”

While this was happening Chief Brooks
had sent for Mrs. Margaret Hall, the bank
robber’s wife, for questioning. She and her
six-months-old son were living in Elyria,
Ohio, with her parents.

Mrs. Hall proved to be a _ petite
brunette. She soon convinced the chief
that she had played an innocent role in
the plot. She produced threatening letters
written her by her husband from the
prison. They demanded she send him the
diamond ring.

“IT have a chance to do some good,”
one of them read, “and I need money.
Don’t fail me this time, Margaret. If you
do vou will pay some day. You can come
to see me and bring the ring with you or
mail it to the address (that of French).
But, Margaret, I want one or the other. I
swear by the baby that you will pay
this time if you fail me.”

Mrs. Hall showed the authorities sub-
sequent letters she had received from the
convict. In these, the threats were under-
lined. And in the end, she said, she had
sent the ring. She told the police she was
through with her husband and did not

ever want to see him again, She was taken
back to Elyria. No charge was brought
against her.

Hall, Cross and Agnes Schoonmaker
pleaded guilty. When arraigned in court
on October 8th Agnes broke away from
a matron and kissed the handcuffed Hall.
Their sentences were deferred until the
disposition of the cases of the two guards
who had demanded a trial. However, after
a few days in jail, Watson and French
also changed their pleas to guilty.

All were sentenced on October 11th,
1932, in Circuit Court. Hall and Cross,
each of whom were doing a stretch of
thirty-five years when they hatched
their amazing escape plot, were handed
seven additional years apiece. It was the
maximum term possible under Michigan
state law. In addition, they were ordered
transferred to Marquette Prison which
has a reputation for being an absolutely
“break-proof stir.” ;

For their part in the plot, Archie
French was given eighteen months to
seven years and Watson drew a one-to-
seven year term.

AST of all, came Agnes Schoonmaker’s

turn to stand up and take her “rap.”
Shoulders thrown back, spirit apparently
unbroken by the ordeal of questioning
she had just passed through, she awaited
her fate with placid countenance.

“I sentence you, Agnes Schoonmaker,
to two and a half to seven years in the
Women’s Division of the Detroit House of
Correction.”

The mouth of the red-headed girl
twitched a little as she heard the omi-
nous words of the judge. Then she said
hoarsely, “Okay.”

And these days when any of her com-
panions in the Detroit institution ask
Agnes if she regrets what she did for
Convict Eddie Hall, a strange look comes
into her eyes: “No,” she says. “He was
a great guy and I’m a redhead. I still
love him, will always love him. The only
thing I hope is that when I get out of
here they’l) let me see him once more at
Marquette.”

The Secret of Seattle’s Celebrated Trunk Enigma

doubt that all of the check indorsements
were forgeries. I found over one hun-
dred different factors which, when scien-
tifically analyzed, proved these signatures
were false, despite the fact that they had
been accepted by those supposed to know,
as true.

And then I determined that the power
of attorney was also a forgery, having
been written by still a third person, whose
handwriting I had as yet not come across.
I was pretty sure that the forgeries of the
travelers’ checks was the work of Jim
Mahoney, although I knew that would
be a fact difficult to establish.

By the time I had completed this work,
it was nearing the end of May, and Jim
Mahoney was preparing to leave for New
York to join his wife. He was still a free
man and could come and go as he pleased.
If Kate Mahoney was still alive, what
would happen after the reunion, when she
found Jim Mahoney was in possession of
all her property? But on the other hand,
how was he to be detained? — _

The officers had their suspicion as to
who had forged the name of Kate Ma-
honey to the power of attorney, and they
put the question up to me. I had said the
document was a forgery; could I de-
termine who forged it? ; :

I warned them it was a difficult job,

(Continued from page 25)

and I made no promise of success; but,
I said, if they would bring me some
samples of the handwriting of the woman
under suspicion, the same being Dolores
Johnston, Jim Mahoney’s _ sister,
would endeavor to ascertain if she had
been the mysterious woman, who, on
April 16th, appeared at the office of a
notary, named Brandt, and there signed
the name “Kate Mahoney” to a docu-
ment which gave Jim Mahoney the right
to dispose of the property of his wife as
he saw fit. '

Genie of Dolores Johnston’s hand-
writing were brought to me. I compared
them carefully, and came to the conclu-
sion that Mahoney’s sister had signed the
name “Kate Mahoney” to the power of
attorney.

Jim Mahoney had been collecting the
rentals on the property of his wife. He
had turned a place on First Avenue over
tq his sister. He had put all the other
property up for sale, and had made two
visits to the safe-deposit box. He had
the auto all washed and polished and was
ready to leave town. In the meantime,
Detective Chad Ballard remained con-
stantly on his trail.

The car stood in front of the Sofia
Apartments all night on May 21st, with

Ballard watching it. At 8 o'clock, in his
shirt sleeves, Jim Mahoney came down-
stairs and placed some baggage in it;
Ballard called Chief of Detectives Charles
Tenant on the phone, and told him of
Mahoney’s departure.

_. “He’s leaving,” said the detective, “and
if he ever gets out of town he’ll be hard
to find again.”

In a very short time, Captain Tenant,
Captain William Justus and Deputy
Prosecutor Patterson, arrived with a war-
rant. Ballard and Justus took a walk
around the block, and arrived at the foot
of the stairway just as Jim Mahoney
came down to get in the car. The officers
closed in and took him into custody. He
was driven to the police station in the
Mahoney car. Patterson and Tenant
went upstairs where old Nora Mahoney
sat. In searching the house they found a
sack of diamonds and about twenty-five
hundred dollars in money. Jim Ma-
honey had lived in the apartment for
six weeks after his return to Seattle. In
that time every stitch of clothing which
belonged to his wife had been disposed
of in some way.

Mahoney was held on a charge of
forgery, which would hold him for the
time being. But where was Kate Mooers
Mahoney? Chief Tenant talked to Ma-

honey for four sti
able to break t
only thing the ex
luctance on the
talk about his lug
a clam when the ,
mentioned,

Mahoney said h
monds with him
to carry them on
insisted that the
all the letters and
genuine.

e
NLESS,” he
J tamed me, an
€ by sending m:
breaking my oars
state without cons
letters and the pe
rom .¥ pack wit}
ying to hand ‘
you find her po ol
q Turn me loose; J’l]
‘We'll find her,
ant as he turned
his words he was
could be done.
Chad Ballard wa:
that the answer to
appearance lay jn t}
He wanted to know
away from the apa
4 to know who haule:
p know when Jim M
Seattle for the Twin
: to know where the I

4 St. Paul? He want

one had actually

‘ there? When the

4 answered to his sat;
might be converging

Pay this Cheque from «
Balance to the 6rder

Pay this Cheque from our
alance to the Order of _

i: of the travelers’ ct
: -l are genuine, signed
ellers Pronounced sign;

T


ea sen

e Irving Hotel, 26 Gramercy Park
|

u detectives ask a lot of persona
none of your business,’’ said Ma4
r who had interrogated him.
‘ight, Jim,’’ answered the officer.
, just checking up a bit.”

‘tically replied Mahoney. “Nevep
to forget he has a record, do you?’
‘im Mahoney had nothing to hide
open. On the very day that h
) the real estate company whl
nis wife’s rentals and showed the

r signature, in which she had em4
llect all rents from that date on
‘age where her car was stored and
letter which gave him _ possessio
‘d letter, signed, ‘““Kate Mahoney,’
ie box in the Perkins Safe-Deposit,
’s valuables.

yple were familiar with the woman’
id not question the genuineness 0}

| nothing that was not in ‘oman

turn, Ballard turned now to the
heck-up ‘on the man he suspected
ier inmate of Walla Walla Peni

facia, an and foervn
haze f-

«Soom
Pee) Sooty

.ing of the line in each of the sig-

rearing the forged signature
from St. Paul to one of his
im’s nieces

The Secret of Seattle’s Celebrated Trunk Enigma 25

tentiary who knew Mahoney well. Chad Ballard had be-
friended this man, and he now asked the ex-convict to aid
him in return.

“T want to know,’’ he told this man, “if Jim Mahoney has
8 large chamois-skin bag filled with diamonds, and particularly
one ring which is set with a large blue stone.”’

Ballard had learned that Kate Mahoney valued that blue
diamond ring above all her possessions, and would not have
allowed any one to take it from her except by force.

A couple of nights later Ballard’s man reported: He had
been on a “party’’ with Mahoney, and Jim had the bag of
diamonds and the blue diamond ring. He had dangled them
as bait before a pretty girl.

Now Ballard went again to his superior officers and this
time they were ready to assist him. Chief Tenant sent him
to Prosecuting Attorney Malcolm Douglas with his story.

The prosecutor agreed with Ballard that something crooked
was afoot; either murder or robbery. He decided that the
weak link might be a certain “power of attorney” or the
letters which had been presented at different places about
town. He wondered if they were really genuine; if so, how
had Kate Mahoney been persuaded to sign them. Accordingly, I
was called into the case, with in-
structions to determine first if
the signatures on the documents
were genuine.

For this purpose, I was given
the letters which had been writ-
ten from St. Paul, ostensibly by
Kate Mahoney, to her niece in
Vancouver. At that time I
learned that about the only
writing the woman did, was to
sign her name. She had taken
with her, when she presumably
left Seattle, a number of Ameri-
can Express Company Travelers’
Checks. These canceled checks
were also brought to me, -to-
gether with other samples of her
handwriting, for scientific ex-
amination.

rr the photograph No. 1, ac-
companying this article, are
shown two of the cashed travel-
ers’ checks. Signatures at the
top of each check, marked “A”’
and “A-1’ respectively were
known to have been signed by
Mrs. Mahoney when she pur-
chased them. Signatures ‘B’”’
and “B-1” at the bottom of
these checks are two endorse-
ments which had been declared
genuine by those who cashed the
checks. See page 95.

In exhibit No. 2 (page 23) are
four additional genuine signatures;
in No. 3, (page 22) are four addi-
tional endorsements.

Examining the genuine signa-
tures “A’’ and “A-5’’ under the
microscope, I found that the old
lady had a peculiar tremor,
which, when viewed under great
magnification, gave her writing
a distinctive line quality peculiar
only to her. The reader’s atten-
tion is here called to the waver-

natures.

From my examination, I also
determined that Kate Mahoney.
was suffering from a_ peculiar
physical and psychological con-
dition, which was recorded in
her writing just as clearly and
surely as electrical and pressure-
recording instruments, when at-
tached to various mechanisms
in the laboratory, record the

epee

movement and effect caused by different operating conditions.

To better illustrate this, and without going into a lengthy
discussion of the contributing causes, if the reader will now
look at the genuine signature “A-2” in Photograph No. 2
(page 23) it will be observed that the capital letter “E’’ is
made backward. Now look at the “r’’ and “a” in the gen-
uine signature “A-5’’.

During many years experience in the examination of ques-
tioned documents, I have encountered several cases wherein
this period of momentary confusion and apparent conflict
between mind and muscle, have been evident in the manner
so graphically depicted here. There are both physiological
and psychological reasons for this, which, when understood by
the criminologist, enables him in most cases, to determine deti-
nitely the genuineness of a signature.

Take a glance at No. 3 (page 22) where there are four
signatures that appear as endorsements or counter-signatures
to the genuine ones on the travelers’ checks shown in Photo-
graph No. 2. It will be noted that an attempt has been made
to simulate the tremulous line of the genuine signatures—
a most difficult thing to do. A microscopic examination of

these lines convinced me beyond all (Continued on page 94)

CAUGHT IN THE LAW’S DRAG-NET

Sheriff Matt Starwich of King County, Washington (left) with man who
held the key to the enigma of the vanished trunk and its revolting content


Abc DONS ON dol g ASS a e 3 -+ 9 ee ~fo™ ° ~ a ci

What did this trunk
contain—bootleg whisky
or a murdered bride?

By Jack Heise

_

Kate Mooers Mahoney: Seattle detectives

knew her 72 years

received her letter that some-

thing was wrong. It wasn’t her
handwriting and Kate doesn’t let any-
one else attend her business.”

Chief of Detectives Charles Tennant
was polite but firm.

“We'd like very much to help you,”
he said, “but there just doesn’t seem
to be any facts or evidence to warrant
an inveStigation.. You must realize
that we have plenty of work to keep
our staff busy without checking on
matters that have no—”

“I know,” interrupted the woman

a

| COULD tell from the minute I

couldn’t pass for 35

sitting across the desk from him in
Police Headquarters at Seattle, Wash-
ington. “I know you are busy. I also
know that something is wrong.”

The woman, Mrs. Carrie Stewart of
Vancouver, British Columbia, had
made the trip to Seattle with the .ex-
press purpose of enlisting the aid of
the Seattle detectives.

“It is the writing in that letter,” she
concluded.

“But the letter states that she wasn’t
writing it. Her husband was writing
it for her.”

Mrs. Stewart gave a short snorting

Special Investigator for
ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES

sound that conveyed far more than
words her dissatisfaction with the ex-
cuse offered in the letter,

“The couple are on their honey-
moon,” Tennant said. “They likely
will be back in a short time and you'll
find that all your fears have been

. groundless.”

“Honeymoon!” Mrs. Stewart brought
a noise up from deep in her throat that
again showed her displeasure. “He is
thirty-six and she is seventy-two, just
twice as old as him. A fine honey-
moon they’ll have. I know why he
married her—for her money—and now
something has happened.”

Tennant pulled a record blank from
a drawer. He planned on filling it
out and sending the woman’s request
through for a routine check simply
because she was so insistent.

“What did you say her name was
again?”

“Her name was Kate Mooers. Of
course, it is Kate Mahoney now.”

“And the husband’s name?”

“James Mahoney.”

Tennant’s eyes flashed up from the
sheet to Mrs. Stewart. A sudden in-
terest showed in his face.

“Have you ever seen her husband?”
he asked.

Chief of Detectives Charles Ten-
nant: He staked his career on
the contents of a missing trunk

EA

Mrs. Stewart nodded.

“What does he look like?”

“He is big, broad-shouldered, with
dark hair. He is handsome in a bold
vulgar sort of fashion.”

Tennant thumbed a button at the
edge of his desk. Detective Chad
Ballard thrust his head in the door
in answer to the buzzer.

“What is it, Chief?”


72

cured the trunk,carried it downstairs and,
with the owner, left the apartment, but
not for any railway station. Jorgensen
insisted that the destination of the trunk
was a spot along the Lake Union water-
front near a mooring spot for a number
of boat houses and barges. He recalled
the delivery thoroughly. He had even
helped Mahoney load the trunk into a
rowboat at the edge of the shore and
Start out into the lake. As he recalled it,
Mahoney had told him he was trans-
ferring clothing to a summer boat house.

Faced with this evidence, Mahoney ad-
mitted the occurence, even volunteering
the location of the boat house and the
assumed name under which he had rented
it. He said that he wished a place in
which to give a farewell party to his
younger friends. As his wife was to be
held in ignorance he was afraid to use
his own name,

The police began checking. Mahoney
had told the truth. It was learned that
under the name of George Glassford he
had rented a boat house for the week be-
ginning April 12. On the same day he
had also rented a row boat nearby -and

after being positively identified by both’

the row boat and boat house owners, a
further statement was given that on the

two days immediately following, the boat :

and its renter had been seen out in the
lake either fishing or rowing about.

A search of the boat house failed to re-
veal the missing trunk. Mahoney was
asked to account for the trunk’s dis-
appearance. His answer was simplicity
itself. The trunk, Mahoney contended,
had been filled with: liquor intended to be
consumed at his party, In attempting to
unload it alone onto the boat house, Ma-
honey claimed the trunk had fallen into
the lake and sunk. That in itself was his
explanation of why the party had never
been given. The refreshments had been
lost overboard.

Seek Proof

EANWHILE a second lead had

broken. The notary who had wit-
nessed the signature of Mrs. Mahoney to
the power of attorney which Mahoney
held suddenly identified Mrs. Dolly
Johnson, Mahoney’s sister, as the woman
who appeared before him as Mrs. Kate
Mahoney.

Mrs. Johnson was placed under ar-
rest at once and charged with forgery.
Both Mahoney and his sister maintained
their innocence, denied the charge and
contended that the attorney was mis-
taken in his identification.

Spurred by this newest discovery, Mrs.
Mahoney's niece posted a reward of
$1,000 for the recovery of the body of
the aunt. Captain Tennant called all re-
sources into play. The harbor patrol was
set to dragging the bottom of the lake
about the boat house. Deep sea divers
were employed and set to work.

Day and night the search continued.
The lake bottom was combed in every
direction. Dynamite was used. Drags
worked constantly. But the work was in
vain.

Weeks passed. Tennant and his sunken
trunk became a street joke. Still the per-
sistent captain of detectives held to his
search. Finally the cry of public expense
went up and the search at Lake Union
declined. Only a persistent few continued,
hoping to reap the reward.

Meanwhile Mahoney’s attorneys had
succeeded in getting a hearing set for
the forgery charge against their client.

56

Regardless of what suspicion the police
might have, this meant that the trial of
Mahoney on any charge except forgery
was impossible, They might believe Ma-
honey guilty of murder. They might
point to the clues and past criminal
records but the sweep of the law still
held in Mahoney’s favor, Corpus delicti
—produce the body of the victim. Pro-
duce an identified corpse in positive proof
that Mrs. Kate Mahoney was dead. With-
out this proof, a murder charge was im-
possible.

The forgery trial was set for the fall
term of court. Suddenly on August 2,
the search at Lake Union was renewed.
Sheriff and detective forces alike joined
the hunt. Captain Tennant had a new
hunch, ran the rumor, about which he
wouldn’t say a word.

A Hideous Find

Our at Lake Union queer proceedings
were under way. Overhead a sea-
plane droned by the hour, diving and
zooming, banking and swooping, back
and forth across the lake. And back and
forth throughout the day went a harbor
patrol boat, dragging a weighted sea sled
equipped with cutting knives beneath the
surface as directed by the plane above.

A few hundred yards and suddenly,
ahead, a low-beamed lake tug began send-
ing frantic signals through the gloom.
The harbor patrol boat answered them
and altered its course. Alongside, they
identified the lake tug, Audrey, Captain
Tennant barely heard the tug command-
er’s explanation of his recognition of the
harbor boat. His gaze was riveted in-
stead upon the Audrey's deck.

They had found the sunken trunk!

The Audrey had found the trunk but a
few minutes before. It had been floating
with the lake current, partially sub-
merged. Quickly hoisting it to the deck,
the crew had undone its rope bindings.
The sight revealed by the lifted lid was so
gruesome that it horrified even the hardy
deck hands. Within the trunk was the
partly decomposed body of a nude wo-
man.

Quickly Captain Tennant had both
the body and the trunk removed to the
morgue. There, criminal identification
men armed with cameras and microscopes
began investigations. The body of the
victim was not badly decomposed but
the face was beyond recognition. Some
chemical had been used to eat the flesh
from the skull. Over the right temple
was a deep fracture where the skull
had been crushed by a blow from some
blunt instrument. Death had been in-
Stantaneous. The body lay partly
wrapped in two blood-stained rugs such
as might cover a bathroom floor. A
blood-stained bathrobe was bound around
the victim’s head.

At one end of the trunk a heavy an-
chor had been lashed fast to the wrap-
pings. It was this anchor the sled knives
had _ undoubtedly parted, allowing the
trunk to float free. The trunk itself, old-
fashioned and round-topped, answered
perfectly the description given by the
woman next door. As the body was being
removed, a plain gold band wedding ring
was discovered on one finger of the dead
woman.

Professor William M, Dehn, well-
known chemist of the University of
Washington, was called in and asked to
make a chemical analysis of the victim’s
stomach. While he checked for results
within his laboratory, the body was laid
out in the morgue. Within the next

12 hours more than 6,000 people had
flocked by, gruesome thrill hunters
mingling with sincere friends, each in the
hope of identifying the body.

But the condition of the woman’s face
made identification impossible. ‘There re-
mained the trunk itself, or the rugs and
robe within. But Tennant pinned little
faith to these latter clues.

And then came another lead.

Victim Identified

AN OLD woman had worked for Mrs.
Mahoney. Her first request on see-
ing the body was, “Let me see her hands.
I’d know Mrs. Mahoney by her hands.
She had worked hard in her life. Her
fingers were gnarled and twisted like
mine.”

The attendants lifted back the body
covering and allowed the old woman to
view the hands. Instantly her eyes sighted
the plain, gold band wedding ring. “That’s
Mrs. Mahoney! That’s Mrs. Mahoney!”
came the excited, positive verdict, “I'd
know. those hands in a million. And that
wedding ring. I know that’s Mrs. Ma-
honey’s!”

On the heels of the old woman’s iden-
tification came another discovery. De-
tectives had been scouring the dental
offices of the city. At last a Dr. *Frank
E. Woods was located whose appoint-
ment book held a record of work done
upon Mrs, Kate Mooers before her mar-
riage to Mahoney. He checked his dental

charts with the teeth of the dead wonian..

A few minutes and his verdict was
positive. From .gold fillings and inlays,
he identified the body positively as that
of Mrs. Kate Mahoney.

Within the same hour came another
startling announcement, from the chemi-
cal laboratories at the University of
Washington. An analysis of the dead
woman’s stomach showed the presence
of 20 grains of morphine. Twenty
grains—enough to kill ten people.

Within a few hours Mahoney was

placed under a first degree murder charge. -

The maze of clues left no room for doubt.

Lime Linked To Killer

4h HE decomposed head and face of the
victim was attributed to the lime that
Mahoney had been known to purchase on
the day preceding his trip East. The light
rope binding the trunk was the same he
had purchased at a water front store,
The trunk was identified as resembling
the one the expressman had helped Ma-
honey load into his skiff,

The accused victim within the jail cell
did not give up easily. The shadow of
the noose spurred him alive. With the
news of the body’s recovery, he suddenly
changed from a calm, self-assured man
to a raving maniac. He ripped his cloth-
ing from his body. He tore his hair and at-
tempted to beat his head against the
bars. He threw fits and fell into moaning
spells that lasted for hours as he lay in
a padded cell.

Lee Johnson and John Dare, attor-
neys for Mahoney, decried the police as
they attempted ‘to whip back public
sentiment in Mahoney’s favor. At last they
filed a plea of insanity on behalf of their
client.

Immediately a commission was ap-
pointed by the trial court judge for the
purpose of adjudging Mahoney’s sanity.
The ex-convict was found sane.

Meanwhile the attorneys fought
for a postponement of the trial. All

was denied.
honey’s sist:
brother in |
session, and
his attorney:
charge was

Mahoney .
framed him
tect the two
their estate.
posed body |!
by the polic«
Mahoney’s \
the dead w
sister clainie:
when she wa
score of sim:
and broadca
the case c;
ber 20.

The trial .
traps but al:
room the vc
was guilty,
recommende:

On Oct. 14
sentence. M:
morning of
trial were d:
fought for «
hold up the s
verdict was :

EANW)!
been fc
sent to the pe
followed her.
death house t
neys still fou;

On Oct. 29
Court refusec
of error, A fi
gave his absc
The die was
hang.

The day be:
giving day, h
same day he r
sent to his ce
flash from the
had happened
a buzz of ex
Soon Mahon:
sister had cor
ing all the bl:
key rushed wi

The conde:
weak, forced s
kid! Good kid
as the turnk
cold voice cut
came his grat
a confession.
the blame fo;
suffer enough

The warden
accompanied
And Mahone,
omitted excep
the woman 1
power of att
shield his sis:
forgery char;
complice sim
Butte. The fir
Tennant’s cha

On the e
honey said,
turned from
were last se
their apartm:
preparing her
walked to the
a bottle of b
his wife and i:

eee. usa ns

was denied. A week passed and Ma-
honey’s sister was allowed to visit her
brother in his cell. A long whispered
session, and suddenly Mahoney, through
his attorneys, began clamoring that the
charge was a frame-up.

Mahoney claimed that the police had
framed him to gain the reward and pro-
tect the two nieces in the recovery of
their estate. The trunk with the decom-
posed body had been planted in the lake
by the police. The body was not that of
Mahoney’s wife. The ring found upon
the dead woman was one Mahoney's
sister claimed had been taken from her
when she was confined in a cell, With a
score of similar charges hurled at police
and broadcast through the newspapers,
the case came to trial on Septem-
ber 20.

The trial was one of legal thrills and
traps but after four hours in the jury
room the verdict came back. Mahoney
was guilty, with the death penalty
recommended.

On Oct. 14, Judge J. T. Ronald passed
sentence. Mahoney was to hang on the
morning of Dec. 1. All attempts at re-
trial were disapproved. His attorneys
fought for delays, errors, anything to
hold up the sentence. All to no avail, The
verdict was positive.

Sister Guilty

EANWHILE Mahoney’s sister had

been found guilty of forgery and
sent to the penitentiary. Mahoney quickly
followed her. He was confined to the
death house to await his fate as his attor-
neys still fought on.

On Oct. 29 the United States Supreme
Court refused to intervene with a writ
of error. A few days later the governor
gave his absolute refusal to a reprieve.
The die was cast and Mahoney would
hang.

The day before his execution, Thanks-
giving day, he ate a hearty meal. The
same day he refused to talk with a priest
sent to his cell. Toward evening came a
flash from the warden’s office. Something
had happened. Beyond the cell corridor
a buzz of excitement seemed to arise.
Soon Mahoney caught the drift. His
sister had confessed to the murder, tak-
ing all the blame upon herself. A turn-
key rushed with the news to Mahoney.

The condemned man listened as a
weak, forced smile crossed his lips. “Good
kid! Good kid!” came his mumble, Then,
as the turnkey still talked, Mahoney’s
cold voice cut in. “Send for the warden!”
came his grated words. “I want to make
a confession. No use in all of us taking

the blame for this thing. I’ve made sis

suffer enough already.”

The warden hurried to Mahoney’s cell,
accompanied by a prison stenographer.
And Mahoney talked. Not a detail was
omitted except one. He refused to identify
the woman responsible for the forged
power of attorney. Evidently trying to
shield his sister and save her from the
forgery charge, he referred to his ac-
complice simply as the woman from
Butte. The final link had been woven in
Tennant’s chain.

On the evening of April 16, Ma-
honey said, he and his wife had re-
turned from the restaurant where they
were last seen together and retired to
their apartment. Mahoney’s wife . was
preparing herself for a bath. Mahoney
walked to the icebox and brought forth
a bottle of beer. He poured a glass for
his wife and in it he placed twenty grains

of morphine. He passed the lethal drink
to his wife and sat back to await results.

Minutes passed but the drug seemed
to take no effect. Mahoney, a hammer in
his hand as he made a pretense of pack-
ing, waited. Suddenly his wife came to
the bathroom door and, going to the
dresser, removed an inexpensive piece of
jewelry lying upon it. As she turned to
pass Mahoney, she remarked sarcastically
that she wouldn’t trust any man with her
jewels.

To the nerve-taut Mahoney the words
were as a trigger pull, The hammer in
his hand crashed into the woman’s skull.
She dropped to the floor—dead—her
skull crushed by the blow.

Quickly the nervous murderer rolled
the body into the bathroom, wrapped the
bathrobe and bathroom: rugs about it,
and began cleaning up the trail of blood
upon the floor. Next he emptied the heavy
trunk previously made ready for the trip.
Stuffing the body within, he took the
quick lime he had purchased that’ after-
noon and spread it about the dead wo-
man’s face and head, wrapping it fast
with the bathrobe folds. Next he bound
the trunk secure.

He then called the expressman and,
canceling the morning call, ordered him
to come at once. Helping the express-
man carry the trunk to his truck, he
ordered the man to drive to the street
end at Lake Union. At the lake he loaded
the trunk into the rented boat and started
out across the water.

Trunk Floats

"THe lake itself he had sounded care-
fully on his supposed fishing ventures
after renting the boat the day before. To
the center of the channel he rowed. Sure
of his position, he heaved the trunk over.
A wave of horror swept him when he
realized that in one calculation he had
failed. The trunk floated. At that very
moment a pleasure launch whisked by
him. Mahoney was panicky.

Quickly he towed the trunk back to
shore. On shore he found a large concrete
block. He bound it securely to the trunk
and again rowed out across the water.
This time he was far down shore.
He made for mid-channel, the deepest
part of the lake, There, at a spot known
as Portage Bay near the University
bridge, he let the trunk go. It sank im-
mediately, the heavy concrete block
dragging it down. .

Mahoney rowed ashore and returned
to Seattle. He next took a taxi to Everett
and caught a train for St. Paul. There he
made it a point to meet all friends and
relatives of his wife and spread the story
that she had gone on to Boston. Satisfied
at last, he boarded the train and started
back for Seattle.

There he immediately presented his
power of attorney and went on with his
original plan, the transfer of his wife’s
estate.

Here, either in protection of his sister
or in protection of the gain of his crime,
Mahoney halted the confession. He had
finished. Calmly he signed the document,
asked the warden to leave him alone and
sat back to await the execution hour.

At dawn the warden read the death
warrant. With firm steps Mahoney
mounted the gallows in the prison yard,
A few minutes and it was over. Ma-
honey had paid for his crime, yet he
carried to his death the secret of the
whereabouts or the disposal of the mur-
dered woman’s fortune.

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“I

LAMIC DETECTIVE 5


But She Had Dough”

4 (AeA

{ 4S Gat

(7 & ‘¢.
-AUORET:

% hat arg 4

LIREAD de

Dolly Johnson: She wrote let-
ters for the dead—but they
were taken with a grain of salt

This tug was used at Lake Union
in the dragging operations for the
recovery of the mystery trunk

Ue

Why Did Seattle Detectives Believe

This Bride Was Murdered When
Her Groom Insisted She Was Alive
and Well? But Where Was She?

“Get me a mug of Jim Mahoney.
You know, the guy we sent up two or
three years ago.”

Ballard nodded, disappeared and
was back in a few moments with the
identification picture.

“Is that the man?” Tennant held

the photo before Mrs. Stewart.
“That’s him,”
tively.

she declared, posi-

“What’s Jim Mahoney done now?”
Ballard asked. “I thought he was still
over the road. Didn’t we rap him for
a five-to-twenty-year stretch?”

Tennant turned the photo over to
read the record on the reverse side.

“Governor Hart pardoned him at
Christmas after doing a little over two
years,” Tennant declared. “And from
what Mrs, Stewart tells me, he evi-
dently married her aunt.”

“That’s hardly a crime,” Ballard said
lightly.

“It’s a crime when a man as young
as he is marries a woman seventy-two
years old for her money,” Mrs. Stew-
art snapped. )

“I’m sorry,” Ballard apologized. “I
was just being facetious.” ,

NNANT went on: “Mrs. Stewart,
who is a niece of Mrs. Kate Mooers-
Mahoney, received a letter from her
aunt in St. Paul. She claims it is not
in her aunt’s handwriting and she is
afraid that something has happened to
her.”

“If Jim Mahoney married any of
my relatives, I’d be worried, too,”
Ballard declared. “That man is bad
medicine to anybody.”

Tennant handed Ballard the letter

Deputy Prosecutor T. H. Pat-
terson: “He'll have you over
a barrel if you are wrong”

that Mrs. Stewart had brought with
her. It was on the stationery of ‘the
St. Francis Hotel in St. Paul, Minne-
sota. It read:

My Dear Carrié: Just a few lines
to let you know I am very well
and have decided to go with Mrs.
Atkinson to Havana for a visit
before going to New York.

I have my business settled here
very satisfactory and Jimmie will
return to Seattle and look after
things there until his health im-
proves and joins me later in the

season. I may have him sell out
for me there providing the estate
picks up. I would have done so
before I left but the market was
poor and money tight.

23

orn mt:

efforts of divers
returns at last
her honeymoon.

t into a fortune

eparted, assured
it he would im-
igation into her
outs.

raphed St. Paul

e honeymooners
stive Ballard to
\lard returned to

Vv.

led her,” he re-
y first met at the
t her properties.
moved into the
09 Denny Way,
e introduced him
- patents on rail-
hey went East it
his patents.”

cee married her
ary 10. They ap-
he East on April
‘e Mrs. Stewart

to the Seattle

ions around the
l. “There may be

ave when he next

store in the block,
t on April 14 he
if new rope.”

en used for tying
y took East,” Ten-

Ballard revealed.
it five pounds of

owed. “That could
troy a body. Why
want lime?” He
gram. “This came
e.

Mahoney registered
il 22. Checked out
baggage to. Duluth.
a registered as Mrs.
rot 72, clerk says.
chief of detectives.

“DETECTIVE Chief Charles Tennant gam-
bled his career when he held a suspect
for murder before ‘he found the corpse.

“We've got a case,” said Ballard ex-
citedly. “Kate may have not looked her
age, but she could never pass for a woman
that young.” :

“T know it,” agreed Tennant. “We’ve
got to find Jim Mahoney and get to the
bottom of this. It’s suspicious for him to
marry an old woman, and doubly so.when
the bridegroom buys lime.”

“Kate couldn’t lose 30 years between
St. Paul and Seattle,” added Ballard. “I
wonder where she left the bridal trip.” °

The captain thought a moment. “Sup-
pose Kate didn’t go East on her honey-
moon ?” he asked.

“Maybe she went—in a trunk,” sug-
gested Ballard.

“Not with live lime in it,” declared
Tennant. “That. stuff would eat ‘through
the trunk or cause fumes. Mahoney
wouldn’t dare do that. If he did put her
into a box or trunk he either expressed
it in some other direction or got rid of
it around here. Check on their baggage.”

Detective Ballard talked with neigh-
bors who lived in the Sophia across the
hall from the now empty Mahoney apart-
ment.

“They were packing the night of April
16,” the woman recalled. “Kate was very
gay, saying this was going~to be the
happiest honeymoon she ever had.”

“How many trunks did they take?”

“Three,” replied the neighbor. “Two
square ones and an old-fashioned trunk
with a_round top.”

Ballard next visited the railroad sta-
tion and learned that only two trunks had
been checked on the Mahoney tickets.

“That does it!” barked Tennant when
he heard this news. “Mahoney must have
put her in the third trunk.”

But where was. the bridegroom? And
where was the trunk? .

“We've got to get more background on
this case,” Tennant decided. “I'll tell the
newspaper reporters about it. When the
story breaks some one may come in with
more information.”

He called in the police reporters for the
Seattle Star, Times, and Post-Intelli-
gencer and outlined the case..

_“T’ll admit we’re working on a hunch,”
‘he concluded.
The following day the newspapers car-
ried a cautiously-worded story that Mrs.
Kate Moers Mahoney and her bridegroom
were apparently missing and asked any-
one who knew of their whereabouts to
inform Captain Tennant.
The stories brought quick results. The
first was a telephone call from Dr. Frank
“J am Mrs. Mahoney’s dentist,” he
told Tennant. “She and her new husband
were in my office the morning of April 16,
according to my records. She had a
checkup on her teeth before leaving
town.”

“Did anything out of the way occur ?”.

.asked the detective.

“She patted his cheek and called him
her ‘dear boy’,” the dentist. continued.
“Then she pulled out a chamois sack and
showed me at least a dozen unmounted
diamonds. Beauties, up to a carat and a
half or two carats. She said she was going
to have them put in the latest style
mountings in New York. She also said she
had $1,500 in cash to spend on clothes.”

Tennant related this conversation to
Detective Ballard. “Diamonds and cash,”
he commented. “Showing those to Ma-
purr was like waving a steak before a
wolf.”

RS. STEWART returned to head-

quarters that day with another. of
Kate Mahoney’s nieces, Mrs. Carrie
Hewitt, who also had a letter purportedly
from the bride.

Somewhere in Montana, going eastward.
April 19. My Dear Niece Carrie: Well, we
are on our delayed trip at last and it cer-
tainly is a relief to have the packing and

storing over. I don’t believe I will: ever. -

tackle it again.

The trip is going to do me a world of good.
I imagined I disliked traveling but find it is
just the tonic. I needed for years and didn’t
know it.

Jimmy is writing for me- and he keeps
humming The Battle of the Boiling Water.
My only worry is, I am afraid he will get
put off the train ha ha ha.

We have good traveling companions. There
is the sweetest old:lady, Mrs. Atkinson and-
her son. They just came from Honolulu and
are stopping in St. Paul for a few days, then
going to Cuba, then to London where their
home is.

They are very wealthy, and do you know
the poor dear has had rheumatism in her
shoulder for years and I treated her last
night, and this morning she said I had done
her more good than all the doctors in
London town.

We might go to Cuba with her. I can tell.

~*better when I see how some business deals
I got pending in St. Paul come out.
We are going to have one good time and
I think I got it coming to me, don’t youP

We will stop at the St. Francis Hotel, St. -

Paul, Minn., so you write me there. Jimmy
says hello and sends his best wishes. Love

to you and Arthur. Your auntie, Mrs. J. E.

Mahoney.

Captain Tennant compared this letter
with the one written to Mrs. Stewart.

“The handwriting is identical,” he said.
“He wrote this one first and didn’t bother
to mention the sprained wrist as an ex-.
cuse. He thought of that before he wrote

the second letter from St. Paul to Mrs.
Stewart.”

More sinister news was brought to the
detective chief by a Seattle attorney, C.
Dell Floyd.

“I know about Mahoney,” he reported.
“A short time ago he married a wealthy
St. Paul girl and brought her to Seattle.
He got her to sign a power-of-attorney to
him to handle her property, then accord-
ing to the story she told me, he. took her
out on Lake Washington in a rowboat
and tried to strangle her.”

“That sounds like Mahoney,” growled
Tennant.

“She screamed and he got frightened
because other boats were near and he
rowed back to shore,” the lawyer con-
tinued. “She left him at once—never even
went back to their apartment—and came
to me for a divorce.”

“Is she in Seattle now?”

“No, and that’s why I am afraid for
her. We filed first divorce papers, then
she never came back.”

“You think Mahoney may have mur-
dered her ?”

“It’s possible. He’s a bad actor.”

Tennant promised the lawyer he would
instigate a nationwide search for the St.
Paul girl.

The power-of-attorney angle interested
the detective and he sént Ballard to the
courthouse to see if any similar paper
had been filed there for Mrs. Mahoney.

Ballard returned within the hour.
“Your hunch was right, chief,” he an-
nounced. “There is an unsigned copy,
filed for record in the county auditor’s
office. In it Mrs. Mahoney gives Jim
power to do anything with her property ;
buy, sell, or give away.”

‘When is it dated?”

“Tt was drawn by E. J. Brandt, a
notary, on April 16.”

“The day before they left town. When
was it filed?”

Detective Ballard consulted some notes.
“It was received by mail from St. Paul
on April 27.”

Tennant’s eyes gleamed. “That means
Mahoney will return here to try to dis-
pose of her property,” he predicted.

The following day Duluth authorities
wired that Mahoney, alone in that city,
cashed some travelers’ checks and an-
nounced he was going to Willmar, Minn.

“Her property is here. He'll be back,”
Tennant told his aide.

The next break came two days later. De-
tectives watching the Sophia apartments
reported that Mahoney had returned.

“Shall we jail him?” asked Ballard.

“We can’t, yet,” said Tennant. “Lets
go there and talk to him.”

BRAHONEY, good-looking in a wolfish
way, snarled when Tennant entered
the apartment.

“Do you fellows spend your time
hounding men who have gone straight ?”
he demanded. “Leave me alone.”

“Where’s your bride?” demanded the
detective chief.

Mahoney lit a cigarette. He had re-
covered from the shock of the surprise
police visit. “Wouldn’t you like to know ?”
he. asked sarcastically. “It’s none of your

_ business, but (Continued on page 47)

27


48

“T'll have your job for this!
raved wildly.

Tennant said nothing. He led the prisoner
back into the apartment, lavishly decorated
despite the plain exterior of the building.

In a vase on the mantel the detective chief
found a chamois sack containing several
diamonds which sparkled blue lights when
they were rolled out on a table. With the
diamonds was a thié¢k bankroll, totaling
nearly $1,400.

“Kate gave me those diamonds and that
money to keep for her,” snarled Mahoney,
whose hands shook with rage despite the
handcuffs he was wearing.

Mahoney was taken to jail. Almost im-
ead attorneys started action to free

im.

“He'll be out after tomorrow’s show-cause
hearing at 1 o’clock unless you get concrete
proof against him, either for murder or
forgery,” Patterson warned Tennant.

The detective sat in his office, thinking
furiously. He had no physical evidence
against the jailed bridegroom and no proof
of forgery. Just a story that Mahoney had
purchased rope and lime and that there had
been three trunks in the apartment and only
two of them shipped East. If Kate Mahoney
happened to be alive, and still in love with
her youthful husband—Tennant shivered at
the thought.

“It depends on that third trunk,” the cap-
tain told Ballard again and again. “We've
got to find it.” He picked up a photograph
of Mrs. Kate Moers Mahoney and studied it.
He handed it to Ballard. ,

“Look at this picture,” he said. “Would
you say Mrs. Mahoney was a big woman or
a small one?” ;

Ballard studied the snapshot showing a
pleasant-faced, elderly woman, richly draped
in furs. .

“Rather heavy-set, I’d judge,” Ballard re-
plied. “Why?” ° ,

“Mahoney is slightly built himself,” said
Tennant. ‘He couldn’t carry a trunk down
those steep steps without help, if the trunk
held her body. He may have called some
trucker to help him take it away.”

He slid a phone book across his desk to
Ballard.

“Check with every hauling outfit in Seat-
tle,” he directed. “See if we can’t find who
took that trunk from the Sophia on April 16
and where it was taken. We only have 24
hours to do this or Mahoney will go free.”

The Seattle directory listed more than 100
firms under the classification of draying. A
corps of 25 detectives and uniformed police
was put to checking the company records. —

Night passed and the morning sped away.
The hands of the clock in Tennant’s office
pointed straight upward.

“Noon, and in an hour that devil will be
sprung,” he grated to Detective Ballard.
“Have we lost, after all?”

His question was answered a few minutes
later when a patrolman put a slip on his desk.
Tennant read it and sprang to his feet. The
worried look was replaced by one of triumph.

“We've hit it, Chet!” he exulted. “Files
of the Seattle Transfer Co. at 5 Harrison
Street show that a trunk was taken from the
Sophia at 10. o’clock the night of April 16.
The driver remembers it was a round-topped
trunk, bound in new rope.”

“The rope—and the lime,” breathed Bal-
lard. “Where did he deliver it?”

“At 1415 Eastlake Avenue, N.”

“That’s on Lake Union,” said Ballard.
“Perhaps he...”

Tennant interrupted. “Bring Mahoney
here,” he ordered. “We’ve only got a few
minutes to get away.”

The bridegroom was rushed from his cell.
Tennant called to the desk sergeant, “I’m
taking Mahoney for a ride. When the law-
yers come looking for him, stall them.”

Mahoney

“lake,” he said solemnly.

Ballard hustled the protesting suspect into
a police car with Tennant and sped away.

Seattle newsmen will never forget that day.
Papers ground out extras as lawyers almost
tore their hair in court and howled that Cap-
tain Tennant had kidnaped their client. It
poi set: make-or-break for the detective
chief.

They soon arrived at the Eastlake address
on the shores of Lake Union. - It proved to be
the boat rental boathouse of Howard & Sons.

Mahoney was led across a catwalk into
the establishment. The proprietor, Calvin
Howard, looked at him and glowered.

“So there you are, Glassford,” he ex-
claimed, then explained to Tennant and Bal-
lard, “Mr. Glassford hired a boat from me
for a week but never brought it back,.. I
found it abandoned out in the lake.”

“When was this?” asked Tennant.

“About the middle of April,” said the boat
man. “He brought a trunk down here and
said he was taking it to a houseboat that
couldn’t be reached by road.”

“That’s a lie!” roared Mahoney.

“You signed the register,”

Howard. ais

Tennant grinned in triumph. “We'll prove
it was your handwriting, Mahoney,” he said.
“I guess we can hold you now.” ©

E WAS RIGHT. On the basis of this

evidence the court allowed him to retain
Mahoney on suspicion of murder. This was
fortunate, for though Mrs. Mahoney’s signa-
ture had been forged on the power-of-attor-
ney experts agreed that, Mahoney was not the
forger. Had the testimony of the boat man
not been produced Mahoney would have gone
free that afternoon.

Lake Union covers several hundred acres
in the heart of Seattle. It is connected to
Puget Sound by a canal and the famed gov-
ernment locks in which ocean-going vessels
are lifted 20 feet to the fresh water of the
lake. Scores of boats are at anchor in Lake
Union at all times. Many are brought into
the fresh water so that barnacles, which
cannot live there, will die and fall from hulls.

Searching this commercial lake for a

retorted

sunken trunk was an imposing task. There

were thousands of pieces of junk and sunken
logs on its bottom, making it impossible to
drag.

The only hope was the use of divers.
Captain Tennant hired two of them and sent
them down.’ Keen-eyed policemen stood at
the government locks, day and night, lest the
trunk should be carried by the current out
through the locks and down to the sea.

Divers Frank Bell and Ray B. Colby went
into the murky depths day after day while
Captain Tennant waited anxiously on the
barge above. They found nothing.

“The bottom is so soft that when we walk
around mud rises and we can’t see more than
a foot from our faces,” the divers complained.

After a week Mahoney became restive in
his cell and started plotting his release. He
called police reporters and issued a statement.

“It is true that I put that trunk in the
“But I had good
reason. I had done some bootlegging and the
trunk was filled with bottles of Scotch smug-
gled in from Canada.

“After marrying Mrs. Mahoney I decided
to turn over a new leaf,” the bridegroom con-
tinued smoothly. “When we planned to go

st I took the trunk of booze and dumped it
in Lake Union. That’s the true story of the
trunk, gentlemen. My wife will show up
here any day now.”

When told of this Captain Tennant had
only one comment.

“Keep on diving, boys,” he ordered.

All Seattle waited tensely, watching the
duel between the policeman and the murder
suspect. Which would win? Weeks went
by:: three, four, five, six, seven. The diving

continued every day, as Tennant stood by.
The fickle public, which had at first ap-
plauded Tennant for the arrest, became tired

of the’ story and joked about it. Many de-
cided that Tennant was pig-headed, and mis-
taken. Vaudeville comics made cracks about
the search and drew appreciative laughs.

Tennant received‘a private message from
superior court at the end of the seventh week.
“If Mrs. Mahoney’s body isn’t found soon
we'll have to release the husband.”

“Just one more week,” begged the detec-
tive. His plea was reluctantly granted.

Tennant was sleepless that night. In his
heart he knew Mahoney murdered his bride,
but how could he prove it? How could he
find the trunk? He knew if he failed he
would be laughed out of the police depart-
ment. Furthermore, the search was costing
a huge sum.

It was detective against murderer, to the
bitter end, for one or the other.

After midnight Tennant suddenly rose,
took a piece of paper and made a quick sketch.
Then with a-sigh of satisfaction he got back
between the sheets‘ and slept soundly until
morning.

That day he took the diagram to his divers.

“You boys say it is so muddy on the bot-
tom you stir up a cloud when you walk,” he
said. “Here is a diagram of an iron sled.
There is an upright on the front so you
can stand erect on it. I’ll have it built and
we'll drop it to the bottom with a line to a
tug on the surface. When you stand on it,
and the tug pulls you along the bottom the
water won't be riled in front of you.”

A blacksmith constructed the curious un-
derwater sled and it was dropped to the
bottom of the lake. Colby went below and
stood on the prow of the device while a tug
above pulled it along.

Minutes passed. Then over his speaking
tube the diver called to the anxiously waiting
detective chief on the diving barge. “It works
swell! My light shines out ahead of me and
I can see fine.”

Captain Tennant sighed with relief.

Two days later the round-topped trunk
was sighted. Colby and Bell attached lines
and it was drawn to the surface. Men held
their breaths while it was pried open.

Then ‘a yell of triumph rose from the
crowd on the raft, for inside was the body of
a woman! Her head was wrapped in a
towel coated with lime. The skull had been
smashed by a heavy blow. Although badly
decomposed, Dr. Wood proved by - his
dental charts the body was that of the miss-
ing bride. Twenty grains of morphine were
found in the body.

Mahoney still denied this was Kate. On
September 19, 1921, he was found guilty in
Seattle of first degree murder, and was sen-
tenced to be hanged November 30 at the
state penitentiary at Walla Walla.

While the murderer awaited the noose.
police tied up tag ends of the case. One of
Mahoney’s women friends was proved to be
the person who forged Mrs. Mahoney’s name.
This woman was convicted of forgery and
served a portion’ of a five-year term in the
penitentiary. ;

-St. Paul police discovered that the younger
woman registered at the St. Francis Hotel as
Mahoney’s wife was a widow he had prom-
ised to marry.

The night before Mahoney’s execution
another woman made a futile attempt to save
his life by confessing to the murder. Ma-
honey brushed off this gallant gesture and at
last confessed the crime.

“Tell her to forget it,” he informed his
jailers. “I killed Kate, and if it wasn’t for
Tennant I’d be spending her money right
now.’

The clatter of the trap provided the wed-
ding music when the groom took his last
bride—the gallows !”

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“Kiss Me, Kate” —
and Die!

(Continued from page 27)

I'll tell you. She’s gone to Cuba for a few
weeks. I’m going to straighten out her af-
fairs here, then meet her in New York.”

“What is her present address ?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Mahoney. “If
you'll wait three weeks you'll find both of us
at the Irving Hotel on Gramercy Park South,
in New York City. That’s where we are to
meet in June. Does that satisfy you?”

“It does not,” Tennant retorted bluntly.

“I think you’ye done something with her and
I'm going to prove it. What about that
third trunk you had here? You only took
two East with you.”

“That had personal papers of hers in it,
and we stored it. I won't tell you where,”
Mahoney said defiantly.

“Where is your first wife?” pressed Ten-
nant.

The bridegroom grinned. “Probably with
her folks in Chattanooga, Tenn.”

“We'll check that,” Tennant warned.

Mahoney grew angry and abusive and
threatened Tennant with a suit for false ar-
rest if the detective molested him. Tennant’s

face was bleak. He knew he did not dare.

arrest the bridegroom on the scanty informa-
tion available.

“T’ll be seeing you,” he promised Mahoney,
and departed with Ballard.

Back at headquarters he outlined a new
plan of action.

“Mahoney is a murderer,” he told Ballard.
“I'm sure of that. But to profit from his
crime he’s got to make some move and when
he does we can jail him. Have the boys
tail him day and night.”

Two days later Mahoney appointed one
of his relatives as manager of the Sophia
apartments. He put another in charge of the
New Baker Hotel. He ran newspaper ad-
vertisements offering several of Mrs. Ma-
honey’s real estate holdings for sale.

“We can’t jail him for that,” Tennant
decided. “He only gave orders orally and
as Mrs. Mahoney’s husband.”

The following day one chance of jailing
the slippery bridegroom evaporated. Ma-
honey had told the truth about his first wife.
She was located, alive and well, in Chat-
tanooga. Furthermore, she had obtained an
out-of-state divorce from Mahoney.

“That means we can’t arrest him on a
bigamy charge for marrying Mrs. Moers,”
muttered the detective chief.

“What next?” asked Ballard.

“We'll sit tight. He hasn’t used that
power-of-attorney yet. Mrs. Moers may
have been a sentimental old woman, falling
for a slicker young enough to be her grand-
son, but she also was a hard-headed business
woman and I can’t believe she signed that
paper. Remember, the filed copy was un-
signed. When he does use it we may be able
to jug him for forgery.”

Mahoney apparently was unworried about
detectives watching his every move. The
succeeding day he visited -the prominent
Seattle firm. of Wilton and Kirk, who
handled Mrs. Mahoney’s voluminous affairs.

“He left a signed power-of-attorney there
and announced he was going to liquidate all
of Kate’s properties,” Ballard reported.

“Get that paper,” Tennant ordered. “Also
any others that bear her signatures and are
known to be genuine.”

E. J. Kirk turned over the suspect paper,
along with other documents he had seen Mrs.
Mahoney sign. Tennant gave them all to
John Flint, a handwriting expert.

ne Cee mNCY SESE Ne net nT Te i a a

“If it is a forgery it's a good one,” said
Flint at first glance. “It will take some
time to prove, either way.” He went to work
on the documents with his lenses, calipers,
and infra-red and ultra-violet lights.

That afternoon Detective Ballard phoned
his chief.

“It looks like Mahoney is going to take a
powder,” he announced. “He’s had Kate's
car gassed and oiled and he told the garage’
man that he’s going on a long trip.”

Tennant made an instant decision. It was
one which could wreck his honorable career
of nearly 25 years as a Seattle police officer.

He decided to arrest Mahoney.

Would the evidence be turned up? It was

—

a tremendous gamble and one that demanded
courage.

The detective chief called Deputy Prose-
cutor T, H. Patterson to accompany him
to the garage. ‘

“You're running a big risk, Charlie,” the
prosecutor warned. “If you fumble, this
could cost you your job.”

“Jim Mahoney isn’t going to leave town
until I find Kate, dead or alive,” the detec-
tive said doggedly.

HEN THE suspect came down the steps

of the Sophia apartment, a suitcase in
br hand, Tennant stepped up and arrested
him.

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KISS THE BLONDE GOODBYE

(Continued from page 37)

if so, what could have happened to it?

Though he canvassed the building thor-
oughly, the detective could find no one
who had happened to see the trunks be-
ing moved out and onto a truck. More-
over, not a single resident of the Sophia
could recall witnessing the actual leave-
taking of the Mahoneys.

“They must have gone out late at night,”
one neighbor hazarded. ‘

Lieutenant Ballard nodded grimly, re-
flecting that it was entirely possible Kate
had not walked out of the building but

had been carried out in the round-topped -

trunk.

By a stratagem which may have been
somewhat outside the bounds of his au-
thority, Ballard gained entrance to the
Mahoney apartment. None of the trunks
remained. Everything seemed to be in
order. The closets were practically bare,
as were the dresser drawers. There were
no bloodstains or other sinister evidence.
If Mahoney had slain his bride here, he
had done a very neat job of it.

The detective remembered that he had
an old friend, Fred Buchmann, who owned
a hardware store just a block down the
street from the Sophia. On the chance
that it was Buchmann who provided the
new manila rope, he dropped in at the
store.

Buchmann, it developed, knew both
Klondike Kate and her shifty-eyed bride-
groom.

“Sure, I sold Mahoney that rope,” the
hardware man said. “Thirty or forty feet
of it. Seemed like a heck of a lot of rope
just for tying up a trunk. At the same
time, Mahoney also bought ten pounds of
quicklime.”

} “Quicklime? What did he want that
or?”

“Oh, he said something about spreading
it on the ground in front of the apartment
building to improve the lawn. Some people
do that, you know.”

Ballard went back to the Sophia. A
quick examination convinced him that
quicklime had never been spread on the
grass outside the building.

“It’s pretty clear what happened, Chief,”
Ballard said later to Tennant. “Just be-
fore they were scheduled to start on their
trip, Mahoney killed Kate in their apart-
ment—probably strangled her. He bound
her hand and foot—explaining why he
needed so much rope—and stuffed her in
the roundtenned trunk, Hoe alss 4essed
in the quicklime, figuring it would speed
decomposition of the body. Then he ciosed
the trunk, tied it up and had it carted
away. Not to the railway station, though—
it didn’t go to St. Paul with the other
trunks. That round-topped job contain-
ing the corpse is right here around Seattle
some place.”

Tennant nodded thoughtfully. “I think
it’s about time we had some publicity on
the case,” he said. “It ought to bring in a
few leads—might even lead to discovery
of the body.”

Reporters for all of Seattle’s papers were
called in. Without mentioning the possi-
bility that murder had been done, the de-
tective chief told them that Mr. and Mrs.
James E. Mahoney were missing on their
honeymoon and that anybody who knew
anything about them should get in touch
with him. The stories appeared in the
papers the following day.

The first call resulting from the pub-
licity came from an attorney, Dell Floyd,
who said he had once represented a pre-
vious wife of Mahoney’s.

“This girl came from down South some-
where,” he related, “and I’m sure Mahoney

married her for her money. She came to
me to ask help in getting a divorce. Her
story was that Mahoney took her on a
lake in a rowboat after dark one night
and attempted to strangle her. Her screams
saved her—there happened to be other
boats nearby. Well, I filed first papers in
her behalf. That was several years ago,
and I never heard from her again. Now
I’m wondering.”

Chief Tennant glanced significantly at
Ballard, who had come into his office to
hear the story. It was entirely possible
Mahoney had done away with the girl, just
as they now suspected him of killing Klon-
dike Kate for her fortune.

Another informant was Dr. Frank Wood,
who explained he had been Kate’s den-
tist for many years. Kate and Mahoney,
he said, had come to his office a few days
before their scheduled departure for St.
Paul. Kate showed him several thou-
sand dollars’ worth of diamonds which she
carried in a chamois bag. She also boasted
she’d drawn more than $2000 cash out of
her bank for the trip.

“I studied Mahoney’s face when she
talked about the money and flashed the
jewels,” Dr. Wood recalled, “and believe
me, I didn’t like his looks at all. He was
fairly watering at the mouth. I don’t
think he’d stop at anything to get Kate’s
property.”

The third publicity-inspired lead came
in a phone call from the county auditor’s
office.

“Just thought you’d like to know,” the
official told Tennant, “we have on file a
paper giving Mahoney power-of-attorney
and bearing a signature supposed to be
that of his wife. It was mailed to us from
St. Paul on the twenty-first of April.”

“Good!” said the detective chief. “We'll
want an examination made of that sig-
nature.”

There was a startling development a
few days later when Fred Buchmann
called his friend Ballard. “Mahoney’s
back!” he announced. “He went past the
store just a few minutes ago, and I un-
derstand he’s staying at the Sophia!”

Ballard and Tennant deliberated what
to do. They didn’t have enough concrete
evidence to make an arrest. If they ques-
tioned their suspect immediately they
might well scare him away or, at the
least, put him on his guard. So they de-
cided to let him go about -his business for
a whiie, and to trave his every move
shadowed day and night.

Jim Mahoney had business, all right—
plenty of it. He went to the Perkins Safety
Deposit Company and presented a copy of
the power-of-attorney paper as proof that
“a had the right to open his wife’s deposit

Ox.

At a garage patronized by Kate he
flashed a letter, purportedly signed by her,
saying that her car should be turned over
to him.

He displayed another document at the
real estate office which handled. Kate’s
properties. It set forth that he was em-
powered to sell the properties, if he chose
to do so, and that he should receive the
rentals from them until they were dis-
posed of. He then installed relatives as
managers of both the Sophia apartments
and the New Baker Hotel. And he ran
ads putting up some of Kate’s real estate
for sale.

Detectives gathered up all the papers
Mahoney used in his negotiations and
turned them over to John Flint, a hand-
writing expert, and Luke S. May, famed
consulting criminologist. After consider-
able study the experts announced their


*

She came to
iY Her
k on a
k ___ night
Her screams
to be other
‘st papers in
1 years ago,
again. Now

nificantly at
his office to
‘ely possible
the girl, just
cilling Klon-

‘rank Wood,
Kate’s den-
id Mahoney,
: a few days
ture for St.
veral thou-
ls which she
also boasted
cash out of

when _ she
flashed the
‘and believe
all. He was
th. I don’t
9 get Kate’s

{ lead came
ity auditor’s

know,” the
ve on file a
-of-attorney

p) * to be-

1 from
of | a

hief. “We'll
of that sig-

elopment a
Buchmann
“Mahoney’s
ent past the
, and I un-
Sophia!”
2rated what
igh concrete
f they ques-
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or, at the
So they de-
business for
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, all right—
rkins Safety
2d a copy of
is proof that
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y Kate he
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turned over

nent at the
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’ were dis-
relatives as
anortments
A e ran

estate

the papers
iations and
,nt, a hand-
May, famed
\r consider-
‘unced their

opinion that the signatures on the type-
written documents were forgeries, albeit
very skillful ones.

Tennant and Ballard decided the time
had come for an interview with Mahoney.
They went to the Sophia.

“What’s the idea of bothering me just
because I did a couple of years in stir?”
the ex-con whined. “I’m going straight
now, cross my heart.”

“Maybe so, Jimmy, maybe so,” said
Tennant. “It just happens that we're
curious about your wife. What’s happened
to her?”

“Why, that’s easy. She’s in Havana—
went there with a Mrs. Atkinson we met
on the train. I haven’t heard from her, so
I can’t give you her address. But Ill
be meeting her in New York around the
fifteenth of June. If you want to, you can
come along with me then to see for your-
selves that she’s all right.”

No amount of questioning would cause
him to change this story. He was tight-
lipped when asked about the younger
woman seen with him in St. Paul. And he
refused to comment on the mysterious
third trunk, except to say that his neigh-
bor “must have been seeing things.” As
for his first wife, he claimed she went
back home to Nashville, Tennessee, and
obtained her divorce there. A quick check
with the Nashville police subsequently
showed that on this point, at least, Ma-
honey was telling the truth.

Following the unsatisfactory interview,
Tennant and Ballard continued to have the
ex-con shadowed, hoping that in some
manner he might give himself away. With-
in a few days one of the detectives
assigned to watch him reported that Ma-
honey apparently was getting ready to
blow town; he’d done a lot of packing,
and had ordered the garage to put Kate’s
car in shape for a long trip.

“That settles it!” the detective chief told
Ballard. “Evidence or no evidence, we’re
going to arrest him on suspicion of mur-
der!”

Before taking this action, however, the
two detectives called in Deputy County
Attorney T. H. Paterson and thoroughly
reviewed the case with him.

“Mahoney may be guilty as hell,” the
prosecutor said at length, “but you won’t
be able to prove it until you find the body.
You fellows are taking an awful chance
by slapping him in jail. Mahoney’s the
sort to cause plenty of trouble. He might
sue the city for false arrest and make
it stick. This thing could cost both of you
your jobs.”

“We'll take the risk,” Tennant declared.

As expected, Mahoney made plenty of
threats when they took him into custody
at the Sophia. He heatedly protested his
innocence and boasted, “You’ll never be
able to prove a thing against me—never!”

Questioning him proved just as futile as
in the earlier interview.

“Everything hinges on finding that third
trunk,” Tennant told Ballard. “Put every
available man to work on it.”

In the next 48 hours detectives labori-
ously checked the records of the scores of
haulage firms in Seattle. At last they
turned up a driver named Alvin Jorgenson,
employed by the Seattle Transfer Com-
pany. He admitted answering a call to the
Sophia apartments at 9 o'clock one night
during the middle of April and taking a
round-topped trunk from the building to a
boathouse on Lake Union.

“Why didn’t you report this before?”
Tennant asked him.

“To tell you the truth, I thought the job
had something to do with rum-running,
and I didn’t want to get in trouble,” the
driver explained.

Shown a picture of Mahoney, Jorgenson

identified him as the owner of the trunk.

Operators of the boathouse also identi-
fied the ex-con. He’d rented a boat and
put the trunk in it, they said. He never
returned to the boathouse, and the boat
was found adrift several days afterward.

Confronted with this evidence in his
cell, Mahoney was forced to admit that he
had, indeed, dumped the round-topped
trunk into Lake Union, which covers
several hundred acres in the center of
Seattle.

“You see,” he explained, “I had done.

some bootlegging before I met my bride,
and after the marriage I still had a lot of
liquor on hand. I decided to go straight.
So I put my entire stock of hooch in the
era went out on the lake and disposed
of it.”

“We think your wife’s body was in that
trunk, Mahoney,” Ballard said.

“Oh, yeah? Just try to find the trunk and
prove it!”

Tennant and Ballard were at least on
surer ground now. Proof of disposal of the
trunk enabled them to keep Mahoney’s
attorneys from springing him out of jail.
Yet retrieving the trunk posed a terrific
problem. There were a lot of commercial
installations on the shores of the big lake,
and the bottom was littered with junk.

The detective chief hired two divers,
Frank Bell and Ray Colby, and put them
to work.

Week after week the hunt went on.
Following a pattern to cover every foot of
the lake’s muddy bottom, Bell and Colby
spent hours underwater each day. They
came up with nothing but old iron bed-
steads, worn-out rubber boots, ancient auto
tires and other trash.

The newspapers began to poke fun at the
operation. The divers and their helpers
were dubbed “Tennant’s Navy.” From
his cell Mahoney jibed at the detective
chief and issued ever-louder demands for
his release. Members of the city council
complained about the cost of the search.
There was even talk that Tennant and
Ballard should be summarily dismissed
from the force.

Despite the uproar, the detectives stuck
to their guns, and finally—after nearly
two months—they got their reward. Colby
and Bell dredged up the rope-bound,
round-topped trunk from a remote corner
of the lake. And inside was all that re-
mained of Klondike Kate!

Due to its coating of quicklime, the
trussed corpse was in hideous condition.
However, autopsy surgeons were able to
determine that the hapless bride had been
beaten to death. In addition, she’d been
given a tremendous dose of morphine.
Kate’s dentist, Dr. Wood, helped to make
positive identification of the body.

Even now Mahoney refused to make
any sort of confession. While he sat in
his cell awaiting trial, Tennant and Bal-
lard cleared up a few loose ends in the
mystery. They apprehended a Seattle girl
friend of the ex-con and proved that she
had committed the forgeries on the power-
of-attorney papers. She subsequently drew
a five-year prison term. Mahoney’s com-
panion in St. Paul was identified as still
another lady friend—one whom the ex-
con had promised to marry. No charges
were brought against her.

Late in the fall of 1921, still protesting
his innocence, slippery James E. Mahoney
went on trial on a charge of murder in
the first degree. A jury promptly found
him guilty, and the supreme penalty was
imposed. Appeals delayed the execution
for more than a year, but on December
Ist, 1922, he died in the Walla Walla peni-
tentiary with a noose around his neck.
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36

they will nay him at least a million
dollars for the patents. There are
just a few details to be ironed out
before the deal goes through.”

Mrs. Hewitt sniffed. ‘Your

Jimmy,” she remarked, “sounds like -

a confidence man to me!”

“IT won’t have you talking that
way!” Kate exclaimed. “If I want
to marry him there’s nothing you
or Carrie can do about it.”

- Shaking their heads over the old
lady’s blind stubbornness, the nieces
left the apartment. Aunt Kate, they

reflected, was right; if she wanted .

to make a fool of herself—if she
wanted to lose part or all of her

fortune—there didn’t, in fact, seem
- be a thing they could do to stop
er.

Kate informed them of the next
development in the romance by
telephone on February 10th.

“You can congratulate me, my

SS ia phrase ig te

Ex-convict (l.) cried that Detective
Chief Charles Tennant (above) held
a grudge against him “because I did a
couple of years in stir’? but Tennant
had only one motive: a missing woman

dear,” she told Mrs. Stewart. “Jimmy
and I were married today before a
justice of the peace. I would have
asked you and Catherine to attend
the ceremony, except that I know
you don’t exactly approve of him.”

“Well, I do hope you will be
happy,” said Mrs. Stewart. “Are you
going on a honeymoon?”

“Oh, yes, but it will be delayed a
month or so. I'll have to look after
my properties first, and Jimmy still
has some work to do here in Seattle
on his invention. We expect to go
East around the middle of April.
Jimmy wants to see some officials
of the Milwaukee Railroad in St.
Paul about selling rights to the air-
brake. After he takes care of his
business there we probably will con-
tinue on to New York.”

“Good luck, auntie,” Mrs. Stewart
said. “If I don’t see you before you
leave, be sure to write.”

Because they didn’t want to make
it appear that they were prying too
closely into Kate’s affairs, and be-
cause they didn’t want to have
an encounter with Mahoney, Mrs.
Hewitt and Mrs. Stewart were out of
touch with the elderly bride for the
next two months.

Finally, around the 20th of April,
Mrs. Hewitt received a letter which
had been written on an east-bound
train.

“Here we are, my Jimmy and I,
on the first stage of our delayed
honeymoon,” it read. “I can’t tell

you what a relief it is to have the
packing and other preparations over
with, and to be on our way at last.

“I feel the trip is going to do me
a lot of good—just the tonic I needed.
Jimmy is writing this for me, by the
way, and he is so happy he keeps
singing all sorts of popular ballads.
I’m just afraid the other passengers

_will ask to have him put off the

train—ha-ha.

“We have two good traveling com-
panions—a sweet old lady named
Mrs. Atkinson and her son. They
are going to stop in St. Paul for a
short time and then go on to Cuba,
and maybe even to London. They
seem to be very wealthy.

“We like the Atkinsons so-much
we may be prevailed upon to go to
Cuba with them—who knows? First,
though, we'll have to see how
Jimmy’s business deal in St. Paul
turns out.

“We intend to stop at the St.
Francis Hotel in St. Paul—you can
write me there. Much love from us
both. Your auntie, Mrs. J. E. Ma-
honey.”

The note certainly had not been
penned by the bride; it was in a bold,
masculine hand. And it was odd that
Kate should have ended it with
“Mrs. J. E. Mahoney” instead of
merely appending her first name.
Perturbed, Mrs. Hewitt showed the
letter to Mrs. Stewart.

“It ‘looks peculiar,” said Mrs.
Stewart, “but we must remember
that Aunt Kate is inclined to be a
bit giddy. Maybe having Mahoney
write the letter for her was her idea
of a honeymoon joke.”

Nevertheless, both nieces wrote to
Kate in St. Paul to inquire whether

- she was all right.

There was no direct reply to these
letters. In a few days, however, Mrs.
Stewart received a note written on
the stationery of the St. Francis
Hotel in the Minnesota city. Again,
the penmanship was not Kate’s—it
was the same as in the first letter.

“Just a few lines to let you know
I-am well,” the message read. “I
have decided to go to Cuba with
Mrs. Atkinson to stay for a few
weeks. Then I will go to New York.
Jimmy settled his business here in
a most satisfactory manner. He will
return to Seattle and look after
things, and later on he will join me
either in Cuba or New York. I may
have him sell some properties in
Seattle for me provided the real es-
tate market has picked up. Hope to
hear from you soon—my mail will
be forwarded. Your auntie, Mrs.
J. E. Mahoney.”

To the note was added a post-
script: “Jimmy is writing this for
me because I sprained my wrist.”

The nieces had another confer-
ence. The second letter, they agreed,
was even more suspicious than the

he Spb Sie nh ivan ih aie Be rial RinsRaabeta seebbceuagaaes

Sioa the

Pe» nes ete


Ue re ae

Rue e Site tte yee ferrite Rue fc rae, air

otha meeg unre 4

‘ye Sey Keogh aig 4

aod e

first one. They seriously considered
the possibility that Kate may have
met with foul play. Yet, fearing
publicity which might embarrass
her, they hesitated to go to the police.

“Let's wait a few days and see if
anything more comes from her,”
Mrs. Hewitt suggested.

Two full weeks went by and the
nieces received no further word from
Kate. At last, certain that some-
thing had happened to her, they
went to Seattle police headquarters.

Charles Tennant, the shrewd, dap-
per chief of detectives, and his
principal aide, Lieutenant Chad Bal-
lard, heard their story and examined
the letters they had received.

“If that’s the same James E. Ma-
honey I think it is, you may have
ample grounds for your suspicions,”
Tennant declared. “Chad, get his
mug shot out of the rogues gallery
file.”

The nieces took one look at the
picture Ballard placed in front of
them and said without doubt that
was the man who had married their
Aunt Kate.

“T figured Mahoney should never
have been pardoned,” Ballard grum-
bled. “I know him personally, and
he’s a bad actor.” :

James E. Mahoney, Chief Tennant
explained to his visitors, had been

convicted a few years before of~-

armed robbery. The State charged
that he gun-whipped a fellow train
passenger and ‘took all his valuables
as the victim lay in a berth. Because
of Mahoney’s previous bad record,
he drew a term of from 5 to 30 years
in the state penitentiary at Walla
Walla. However, he regained his free-
dom much sooner, after serving only
two years.

“We'll do everything we can to
trace your aunt and lay our hands
on Mahoney,” Tennant assured Mrs.
Hewitt and Mrs. Stewart. “Mean-
time, if you receive any more letters
purporting to have been written by
her, let us know at once.”

After the nieces left, Ballard said,
“Chief, this smells like murder to
me. Id like to make a quick trip to
St. Paul to check up on our ex-con
friend.”

Tennant readily gave his consent.

In St. Paul, where he secured the
cooperation of Chief of Detectives
Herman Vall, Lieutenant Ballard
found that a couple named Mr. and
Mrs. James E. Mahoney had indeed
checked into the St. Francis Hotel
and remained a few days. But mem-
bers of the hotel staff recalled that
the bride appeared to be a woman
of 30 instead of 70!

There was no record of a “Mrs.
Atkinson” having registered at the
hostelry. And, as Ballard expected,
officials of the Milwaukee Railroad
had never heard of Mahoney or his
airbrake.

Lieutenant Ballard (top) discovered
_ that the bridegroom didn’t register at
honeymoon hotel with his mink-wrap-
ped wife, Kate Keiler (r.), but with a
mysterious girl who used Kate’s name

During his brief stay in St. Paul,
Mahoney appeared to have plenty of
money, and he cashed several trav-
elers’ checks. When he and his mys-
terious lady friend left the hotel he
arranged that his two trunks be
shipped to Duluth. All efforts to
pick up his trail in this city were

unavailing, and Ballard returned to
Seattle.

“Now it looks more like murder
than ever,” the lieutenant told Ten-
nant. “Mahoney somehow got rid of
Klondike Kate so that he could grab
her money and have a fling with a
younger woman. But how are we
going to prove it? And where is
Mahoney, anyway?”

“I figure he'll return to Seattle
sooner or later to convert his wife’s
properties into cash,” Tennant said.
“Meanwhile it might pay off to do
some snooping around the Sophia
apartments.”

At the building on Denny Way,
Ballard found that Kate Mahoney
had said goodbye to almost a dozen
of her neighbors.

“She was like a young girl, she
was so happy,” one housewife told
the detective. “She said they ex-
pected to be away for six months
or so, and that they would go to
St. Paul, New York and possibly
Cuba.”

Another neighbor recalled the
preparations the Mahoneys had
made for the honeymoon. “I dropped
into their apartment one evening

and saw that they were taking three
trunks with them,” she recalled.

“Three trunks?” Ballard asked.
“Are you sure?”

The woman nodded. “Two of them,
quite new, were already packed. The
third was an old-fashioned affair
with a rounded top. It was standing
open, and Mahoney remarked he
wasn’t going to fill it until just be-
fore they were ready to leave. He’d
bought several yards of manila rope
to tie it up with.”

.Three trunks—yet Mahoney had
arrived in St. Paul with only two.
Was the old-fashioned one intended
to be used for the disposal of Kate’s
body? And (Continued on page 86)

37

pa ee he OT SER Oe eee ~


SOARES ERT a,

Case Of The Bootlegged Body

(continued from page 51)

That wasn’t all. Prominent hand-
writing experts had now pronouned
the signature on the letter to Kather-
ine’s niece in Vancouver as a positive
forgery—clever, but a forgery non-
theless. The same verdict held for the
signatures on .the two power-of-attor-
ney letters, which Mahoney was car-
rying when arrested. “We also
know,” said Ballard, “how you got
around the old lady by posing as an
inventor who was about to sell a pat-
ent to the Milwaukee Railroad. The
railroad people have never heard of

* you.”

“Go-right on talking, copper,” said
Mahoney. “But don’t forget you’ve
got to have a body. You don’t have a
body and you’ll never get one.”

Ballard went. away talking to him-
self. There wasn’t the slightest doubt
that Mahoney was a murderer. But
how to prove it? Mahoney was
charged with suspicion of murder and
kept in jail. It behooved Ballard to get
that body, wherever it was, and get it
quick. Mahoney couldn’t be held in-
definitely. :

Three months passed. It was Au-
gust. No body. The police had sent di-
vers down in various parts of Puget
Sound and Lake Union to search for
the trunk. The underwater men had
come up with an impressive assort-
ment of junk, but no trunk. The City
Council was beginning to yowl about
the expense of the divers. The men
in the helmets and rubber suits be-
came known as Ballards’s Navy, in
left-handed honor of the man who in-
sisted murder had beendone. °

The chambermaid in the St. Paul
hotel—the one person who had seen
the veiled lady without her veil—
died. She took to her grave with her
the only legal evidence Ballard had
that the veiled one had not been Kodi-
ak Kate. There was, of course, the
handwriting declared to be forgery.

But Mahoney would be able to pro-:

duce handwriting experts to disagree
with that view. Anyway, forgery
wasn’t murder.

Ballard, a hearty eater, was off his
food. Newspapermen began to needle
him. He socked one reporter in the
jaw. That didn’t improve relations
with the press. The Post-Intelligencer
lowered the boom on the whole de-
tective force. The paper said the dicks

52

should either produce the body of
Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney or release her
husband.

Detective Ballard was brooding in
the squad room one night when the
cops brought in a particularly loud
drunk. Prohibition was blighting the

of the fresh-off-the-boat bootleg stuff.
The drunk touched off a stream of
consciousness in Ballard’s mind. A
drunk. Bootleg liquor. Bootleggers.
Bootleg booze in trunks. That was it!
Mahoney had moved about Seattle
with the trunk without arousing sus-
picion by representing the trunk as
containing bootleg booze rather than a
corpse.

Ballard placed himself in the posi-
tion of Mahoney. Just where would
Mahoney have gone to get somebody
to haul away for him a trunk sup-
posed to contain bootleg booze? He
would have gone down to a certain
section of the shore of Lake Union.
That’s where Seattle’s bootleggers
hung out. It was the terminus for
booze brought in by fast private boats
from Canada. It was a sort of illicit
wet-stock exchange. All sorts of.
deals were constantly being. con-
summated in the dead of night. There
were private cars that did nothing but
haul liquor, sometimes in_ trunks
strapped to their tops, all over town.
Sometimes a man would buy cases of
whisky for investment, hold it until
the market went up, call a car from
Lake Union, have the liquor taken to
the Lake, and there negotiate a deal.

Ballard went down to bootleg
headquarters. He told the boys there
he wasn’t interested in enforcing the
prohibition law so it would be all
right to talk to him. He wanted to
know who had hauled a trunk of
booze from the Sophia Apartments

“the previous March. One car owner

spoke up. He had.

“What happened to the trunk?”
asked Ballard.

“I think the man who owned it
hired a boat to take it to another part
of the lake.”

Ballard located a man who had
rented the boat. He identified a pic-
ture of Mahoney as the man who had
hired the craft. Mahoney had not
brought the boat back. It had been
found adrift next day.

The detective’s 1 t move was to

have the boat owner point out the
spot where the boat had been found
adrift. Ballard now studied lake cur-
rents. He made a guess as to where
the boat had been set adrift. He sent

divers down. They came up with the
trunk.

The trunk, of course, contained the
body of Kodiak Kate. The quicklime
had begun its work but there was

land, remember; these were the days ° enough of the body for identification

and corpus delicti purposes. There
were 58 feet of rope—the remainder
of the 100-foot length of rope Maho- -
ney had purchased ostensibly for gar-
dening purposes—around the trunk.

Handsome Jim Mahoney died in
Walla Walla for the murder that ap-
parently had to happen. Ballard never
did find out who the veiled girl was.
He didn’t try to. His feelings was that
the girl was a pick-up of Mahoney’s
and that she hadn’t realized why she
was masquerading under a veil and
ona cane.

Ballard went right on making the
mistakes that any sincere detective is
bound to make occasionally in the
course of his work. But he knew he
had the percentages on his side. He
could make many mistakes. The crim-
inal could make only one. Exhibit A:
Handsome Jim and his garden. *

‘Mickey Mouse’
Solved A Murder

(continued from page 7)

several different instruments. He
stated in his opinion the victim had
been dead before the flammable fluid,
possibly gasoline, had been poured
over the body and ignited.

He related a post mortem revealed
the victim had been raped, but not in a
normal way. A soft drink bottle had
been pushed into the vagina, likely
while the victim was still alive.

Arson investigator Lieutenant Rich-
ard Brown told the jurors about the
10 hours he had spent sifting through
the ashes in the house and what he
had found.

He stated there was no doubt the
fire had been deliberately started in
several rooms in the house and the
carport. He related there had been a
boat on the trailer in the carport and
the fire was so hot that it melted the

(continued on next page)

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signature on the St. Paul letter. Bal-
lard asked Mrs. Stewart if she had ev-
er before received a typewritten letter
from her aunt. Mrs. Stewart had re-
ceived many such letters. Katherine
Mooers always availed herself of
public stenographers when traveling.

Handwriting experts disagreed
about the signature on the letter from
St. Paul to the missing woman’s
niece. Some said it was a forgery;
others called it genuine.

Ballard left for St. Paul. The regis-
ter of the St. Francis Hotel there dis-
closed the entry—Mr. and Mrs.
James E. Mahoney, Seattle—a few
days after Kate had been seen in
Seattle.

Ballard had obtained from the miss-
ing woman’s niece in Vancouver the
name and address of a relative of Ko-
diak Kate in St. Paul. He visited the
relative—a middle-aged woman. She
was unaware that Kodiak Kate had
been in St. Paul. “Kate wrote and
told me she was married and would
visit me on her way East. That was
about a month ago. I haven’t heard
from her since.”

Hotel attaches’ recalled the woman
who had been registered as Mrs. Ma-
honey. They were unable to describe
her, however. She had worn a heavy
veil and walked with a cane. Mahoney
had explained to the desk clerk that
his wife had sprained her ankle dur-
ing the trip from Seattle when the
train had stopped suddenly and
pitched her to the floor of their com-
partment.

The detective hunted up the hotel’s
public stenographer. She had typed
that letter that had been sent to Kodiak
Kate’s niece in Vancouver. Mr. Ma-
honey had dictated it and the stenog-

rapher had taken it down in short- .

hand, then typed it. “Mr. Mahoney
said his wife was in such pain with
her sprained ankle that she couldn’t
leave her room,” the stenographer
explained to Ballard.’ ”Mr. Mahoney

had taken notes from his wife and he

dictated those notes to me. I typed out
the letter and he took it away for his
wife to sign. He did the same with
the two other letters.”

“Two other letters. What were
they?”

“Power-of-attorney letters.’ One
was to a real estate company in
Seattle, as I recall, and I think the oth-
er was to a safety-deposit company.”

“Tell me more about them.”

“That’s all I remember. He dictated

them and then took them up to the
room for his wife’s signature and
brought them back and I witnessed
them. I’m a notary.”

“Isn’t it irregular to witness a sig-
nature you don’t see being written?”

“Well, yes, but the circumstances
were unusual.”

“And Mr. Mahoney was such a
charming man.”

“He was indeed.”

- Ballard asked the stenographer if
she kept the notebooks containing her
dictation. She did. She dug out the
Mahoney dictation. One of the let-
ters—addressed to a prominent realty
firm—instructed it to turn over to Ma-
honey rents from several Seattle prop-
erties that Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney
owned. The second letter—to a safe-
ty-deposit box company— instructed
it to give Mahoney a key to a box
long held by Kodiak Kate.

Ballard telephoned to Chief Ten-
nant and filled him in. Tennant stuck
an immediate cover on the realty and
safety-box establishments. Ballard
wasn’t, of course, being fooled about
the veiled woman, or the sprained an-
kle, either. He questioned the cham-
bermaids. One of them had seen Mrs.
Mahoney while making up the room.
Mrs. Mahoney had been young and
beautiful. Kodiak Kate, then, had def-
initely not come to St. Paul.

The whole pattern of the mystery
was emerging. Mahoney and _ the
veiled woman had been in the St.
Francis Hotel three days. Mahoney,
growing more cunning, had been
building up a case against Justice as
he went along. He had created a ficti-
tious character to substitute in St. Paul
for the woman who was in a mur-
derer’s trunk. But he had slipped up
by permitting the chambermaid to get
a look at the girl who posed as Mrs.
Mahoney, just as he had slipped up by
not using all the quicklime and rope
on the garden plot.

Next, Ballard began to concentrate
on St. Paul railroad records of the day
Mahoney and the veiled woman had
checked out of the St. Francis. There
was no record of a ticket purchase by
Mahoney. There was, however a re-
cord of a ticket purchase in the name
of Mrs. James Mooers-Mahoney—in
the distinctive brown ink and in the
woman’s distinctive handwriting.
Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney—rather, the
woman impersonating her—had
bought a ticket to New York. Ballard
had to hand it to Mahoney. The hotel

and ticket business was satanically
clever,

Ballard was a_ perfectionist. He
liked a picture to be complete. All the
pieces had to be there. He wanted to
know just how Mahoney had gone
from Seattle to St. Paul. Trains from
Seattle-to St. Paul stopped at Everett,
some thirty miles from Seattle. Bal-
lard examined the records of the rail-
road statiqn there. Sure enough, Mr.
and Mrs. James Mahoney were
down on the records as having de-
parted in a drawing room for the Mid-
dle West on the Sunday night follow-
ing the Saturday night when
Mahoney had been seen outside the
Sophia with the trunk. A station at-
tendant recalled a tall, handsome man
of, Mahoney’s description having
boarded the train with a veiled wom-
an who walked with the aid of a
cane.

In ‘May—six weeks after he had
vanished—Handsome Jim Mahoney
walked into the offices of the Seattle
real estate company which collected
rents for properties owned by Kodiak
Kate. Fifteen minutes later, Hand-
some Jim found himself in the detec-
tive squad room of Police Headquar-
ters, facing Chad Ballard.

“You murdered the old lady,” said
Ballard.

“Prove it,” said Mahoney.

“T intend to.”

“You have nothing on me.”

“Oh no? All I need now is to find
the body.”

“My wife is in Cuba. We separated
in St. Paul. She asked me to come
back here and attend to some business
for her.”

Ballard detailed for Mahoney the
circumstantial evidence he had on
him. There was the unaccounted-for
rope and quicklime. There were the
letters the public stenographer in St.
Paul had written for Mrs. Mooers-
Mahoney without ever having seen
her. There was the veiled lady who
had been young and pretty according
to the hotel chambermaid who had
seen her. Why had the bride and
groom given up their apartment on the
Saturday yet not taken a train for the
East until the Sunday night? “I’ll tell
you why, Mahoney,” said Ballard.
“You were getting rid of the trunk
with the body in it all Saturday night.
Then on the Sunday you picked up
this gir_—whoever she is—who was
to masquerade as your wife.”

(continued on next page)


on : <saie

want the lime and the rope for a gar-
den—the lime for the soil and the rope
to keep kids and dogs off.”

Ballard was disappointed. “Maybe |

you’re right,” he ‘said. “The people
who live in the Sophia keep little gar-
dens in the rear of the place.”

Next day was Ballard’s day off.
The detective stationed himself on the
roof of a house a block in the rear of
the Sophia. Through powerful binoc-

ulars he saw Mahoney coming out of
the apartment house, carrying a
spade, a hoe and a large package.
During the next hour, Handsome Jim
occupied himself digging up a patch
of ground, sprinkling something in
it—no doubt the lime—planting some
seeds, and then fashioning a protec-
tive fence around the plot with small
wooden stakes and rope.

After dark that night, Ballard
sneaked up behind the Sophia and
examined Mahoney’s _ handiwork.
He struck a match and looked at the
rope. Now he took a penknife from
his pocket and snipped off a piece of
the rope. Next he grabbed a fistful of
the soft, worked-over earth and put it
inapaperbag.

Next day he checked with the
hardware dealer. The sample of rope
was the same as that which Mahoney
had purchased; the handful of earth
contained quicklime. Ballard was en-
raged. He knew that Mahoney had no
interest whatsoever in gardening.
Mahoney, knowing he had been
shadowed, had bought the rope and
quicklime just to get a rise out of him.
A few hours later Ballard received a
visit from a lawyer—a lawyer rep-
resenting James E. Mahoney. The
lawyer was brief and to the point.
His client had advised him that Bal-
lard was persecuting him. Either Bal-
lard would cease. to shadow Maho-
ney or Mahoney would bring charges
against the detective.

Ballard sputtered a denial. . “I
haven’t been interested in Mahoney
for some time.”

“Oh yes you have,” said the law-
yer. “We have been shadowing you.
You were behind the Sophia Apart-
ments last night, examining a small
garden that my client is cultivating.
You questioned a hardware dealer
this morning about certain purchases
my client made. You see, Mr. Bal-
lard, we know what is going on.”
The detective told himself he had
made another mistake. Mahoney’s
lawyer didn’t stop with Ballard. He

went to Chief of Detectives Tennant
with his complaint. Tennant called
Ballard, a close personal friend, on
the official carpet. “Chad,” he said,
you’ ve got to leave Mahoney alone.”
“All right,” said Ballard, “but don’t
say I didn’t warn you. He’s going to
murder that woman sure as hell.”
“What makes you so positive?”

.““He’s after her money. No doubt

about that. She’s pretty careful with
her money. He’ll have to kill her to
get it.” ;

“I’m afraid,” said Chief Tennant,
“that what you say makes sense. But
we’re practically handcuffed, Chad.
We can’t touch that fellow unless he
violates the law.”

On Monday, March 14—a month
and four days after the marriage of
Handsome Jim and Kodiak Kate—
Detective Ballard had to go to the So-
phia Apartments to interview a ten-
nant about a matter that had no con-
nection whatsoever with Mahoney.
While looking over the names on the
mail boxes in the vestibule of the
building, the detective noticed that the
names of Mahoney and his bride had
been removed. He asked the superin-
tendent why.

“They don’t live here no more.”

“Since when?”

“Since Saturday.”

“Where'd they go?”

The superintendent shrugged. “I
don’t exactly know. I heard the old
lady telling one of the tenants she was
going on a long trip. She told me she
wouldn’t be back. The apartment’s
for rent.”

“Did they move their furniture?”

“It’s a furnished apartment. The
furniture belongs to us.”

“Where’s the automobile she gave

him?”

“He sold it just before they left.”

Ballard questioned everybody in
the building. Mrs. Mooers-Mahoney,
as the bride called herself, had men-
tioned to one tenant that she and her
husband. were going to visit relatives
in the Middle West, then proceed to
New York and possibly Cuba. An-
other tenant had noticed Mahoney,
early on the previous Saturday night,
Standing outside the Sophia. Hand-
some Jim had been peering up and
down the street, apparently waiting
for someone. Alongside of him was a
trunk and two or three suitcases.

“You're absolutely sure he had a
trunk,” said Ballard.

“Positively.” Ballard rushed into

Chief- Tennant’s office. “Maybe
we've got grounds to move against
Mahoney now,” he said. “Maybe the
Parole Board didn’t give him permis-
sion to travel.” Tennant phoned the
Parole Board. Maloney had been
given permission to travel. He had
said that he and his bride were going
toCalifornia, _

“That doesn’t check with what

"Katherine Mooer told another tenant

in the Sophia,” said Ballard. “She
said they were going East.”

“They could have changed their
plans,” said Chief Tennant.

The outstanding detective knows
more than he sees. Call it a hunch,
call it intuition, call it what you will, |
but the superior sleuth has a kind of
sixth sense that transcends physical
laws. Detective Chad Ballard was
possessed of that sense in a strong de-
gree. He knew—he knew as certain-
ly as if he had looked inside the trunk
that. Handsome Jim Mahoney had
been seen with the night he left—that
the body of Kodiak Kate had been in
that trunk.

If a murder had been committed in
the Sophia, Ballard reasoned, there
must be some piece of evidence there.
Even a cunning, cock-sure criminal
like Mahoney would be bound to
leave something behind. The trick
was to find it.

There was nothing in the apartment
vacated by the bride and groom to
suggest foul play. Ballard questioned
all the other tenants again. Nobody
had heard any sounds commonly as-
sociated with violence. During the
questioning a suspicious fact
emerged. Nobody had seen Mrs.
Mooers-Mahoney all day Saturday—
the last day of her occupancy of the
apartment. Ballard was quick to sur-
mise that Mahoney had murdered the
woman sometime during Friday
night, stuffed her in the trunk, and
then left with the trunk on the Satur-
day night for a destination yet to be
determined. It didn’t strike him as
normal for a woman like Mrs.
Mooers-Mahoney not to have been
rushing in and out of the Sophia, bent
on last-minute chores, the last day be-
fore her departure on a long trip. But
surmise was all Ballard had.

Then, in back of the apartment
house, at the little patch of ground
that Handsome Jim had dug up and
planted, Ballard found something

(continued on next page)
49


Case Of The Bootlegged Body

(continued from page 49)

considerably more solid than suspi-
cion. He measured the number of feet
of rope that Mahoney had used to pro-
tect his garden plot. Handsome Jim
had used just 42 feet. He had pur-
chased 100 feet. What had he done
with the remaining 58 feet? Ballard
was sore at himself for not having
thought to measure the rope before.

Ballard had another talk with the
tenant who had seen Mahoney stand-
ing outside the Sophia on the Saturday
night. “That trunk you saw,” he said,
“what kind of a trunk was it? Old or
new? What did it look like?”

“Tt looked like an old trunk.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Tt was tied up with rope.”

Ballard snapped his fingers. He re-
turned to the plot of garden behind the
Sophia. He pulled up one of the stakes
with which Mahoney had fashioned
his rope fence and probed the soft
earth that the ex-con had dug up. The
digging didn’t extend down very
far. Ballard examined the dirt from
the plot. It was flecked with white—
the quicklime—but it didn’t seem to
be flecked enough to account for ten
pounds of quicklime. Ballard’s quess
was that only a pound or two of the
lime had been distributed in the earth.
He had to make certain.

The earth was analyzed. Less than
two pounds of lime had been mixed
with it. That left more than eight
pounds of quicklime—ideal for reduc-
ing a body to a state beyond recogni-
tion—to be accounted for.

Ballard was moving slowly. He
didn’t want to stub his toe—not on
Mahoney, anyway. He asked the su-
perintendent of the Sophia if the Ma-
honeys had left any unwanted be-
longings behind—a bag containing
some eight pounds of quicklime, for
example. Yes, the Mahoneys had
left a few odds and ends, but not a
bag of quicklime.

Chief Tennant listened in silence to
Detective Ballard’s story of the rope
and the quicklime. “Chad,” he said,
“you’ve been absolutely right all
along. Mahoney has murdered Kodi-
ak Kate—and right under our noses,
too.”

“I’ve never heard of anything so
damned clever,” said Ballard. ’Here’s
a man who buys tools for murder

50

right out in the open and throws us
smack off the trail by putting them to
a legitimate use.”

Back in 1921, there was no com-

mercial air lines or long-distance bus .

lines. Long trips by private car were
somewhat hazardous, and decidedly
uncomfortable. The railroads had a
virtual monopoly on_ long-distance
travel. That made it easier than it is
today for the police to trace fugitives.
Alf they did was check with the rail-
roads; there were no other means of
transportation, aside from boats, of
course, to worry about.

The railroads themselves added a
touch that made it still easier for the
police. They required the signatures
and addresses of all purchasers of
tickets for long trips—such as a trip
from Seattle to California, or from
Seattle to the Middle West. There
were two major rail terminals in
Seattle, and several railroad ticket
agencies in the downtown area. Bal-
lard got help from Chief Tennant in
making a canvass of every place
where tickets were sold. Everybody
drew a blank.

Now Ballard began to ask himself
if his man, and his trunk, had left
Seattle at all. Had Mahoney taken the
trunk and dropped it into Puget
Sound? Then had he himself faded
from sight somewhere in the murky
labyrinth along the waterfront?

Every drayage company in Seattle,
and every truck and moving compa-
ny, was covered. None had removed
a trunk from the Sophia on the night
of Saturday, March 12.

Although Kodiak Kate was widely
known as a colorful character, Bal-
lard and other members of the detec-
tive force suddenly realized that they
knew practically nothing about her
family connections—an important in-
vestigative channel, now that the
woman was missing. Neither did the
few acquaintances that she had in
Seattle. The most interesting informa-
tion Ballard could come by was that
Kodiak Kate had sometimes made
vague reference to relatives in the
Middle West and in Canada.

Ballard had an idea. He figured
Kate had made a will at one time or
another. If so, her relatives would be
named in the document. Ballard con-
sulted the woman’s attorney. Kate

Mooers, the attorney said, had never
made a will.

Ballard had a talk with the mail
carrier who served the Sophia. “Mrs.
Mooer used to get letters pretty regu-
larly from Vancouver, British Colum-
bia,” the carrier told the sleuth, “I
didn’t notice who they were from,
but I always noticed the Canadian

stamps and postmark.”

Long-distance telephone calls were
considered an extravagance for the
rich back in 1921. Mrs. Mooers-Ma-
honey was both rich and extrava-
gant. Ballard checked her phone re-
cords. She had, on the Friday which
Ballard presumed had been her last
day on earth, made a call to a number
in Vancouver.

Ballard called the number. It was
that of a Mrs. Katherine Stewart, a
niece of the missing woman. “Aunt
Kate told me she was going to visit
relatives in St. Paul, Minnesota,” said
Mrs. Stewart.

“Don’t go out of town or any-
where,” said Ballard. “I’m coming
up to see you.”

By the time Ballard reached Van-
couver, Mrs. Stewart had received a
letter from St. Paul. It was a type-
written letter, bearing the signature of
Katherine Mooers. It was on the sta-
tionery of the St. Francis Hotel in St.
Paul.

The letter stated, in effect, that the
bride and groom were on the first leg
of a belated but extended honey-
moon. One paragraph said:

Jim served time in prison for an

offense he did not commit. He is a

very wonderful and clever man. He
has invented an air brake that the
Milwaukee Railroad is about to give
him a million dollars for. In the
meantime I am advancing expenses -
for everything we are doing, for Jim
is busy with plans for another
invention and has time for nothing
else.

The letter was signed in ink—
brown ink. “Do you,” Ballard asked
Mrs. Stewart, “have any other letters
from your aunt?” Mrs. ‘Stewart had.
All of them were written in brown
ink. “Does your aunt always use
brown ink?” Mrs. Stewart said that
for some reason Katherine Mooers
would use no other color. The hand-
writing on the letters known to be
genuine was, Ballard had to admit to
himself, quite similar to that of the

(continued on next page)

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heart that one would die. If I but
punctured a leg or an arm, that one
would be injured in those places.

I went back to my home and made
this doll and then I got my stepfather’s
picture and did as Espino had told me.
Then I pierced the doll through and
through. I did this many times. But
nothing happened to my stepfather. I
decided I had not been right about
him. He was not the one who had cast
the spell upon my mother. Now I
know all these things are foolish, but
then, because of the cigarettes, my
mind was not clear...

I did not know what to do. My
mother was getting worse all the time.
Again Lupe talked to me about driving
the evil spirit out by force.

“The evil spirit is here,” she said.
“We are all in danger.” She reached
into her bosom and handed me a
sachet. “I have two of them,” she said.
“They are rose petals that died in sor-
row when they were wet by tears of
the Queen of England. They will keep
the evil spirit from us but we must
drive it away from your mother. This
must be done at once.”

She rose and got a heavy strap and
before I realized what she was doing,
she struck my mother very hard—
with the end on which ‘1e buckle was
fastened.

Y MOTHER screamed and I jumped
and grabbed Lupe’s arm. I flung
her to a corner of the room.

“Are you crazy?” I cried, “Do not
do that or I shall hurt you badly.”
For just a minute I thought of running
for the police but I did not. Now I
wish that I had.

Lupe seemed unconcerned. “It is
nothing,” she said. “It will make her
well. You should see that by now.”

“You cannot make one well by hurt-
ing them,” I said. “You are crazy. Do
not strike her again. She is my
mother.”

Lupe shrugged. “Very well,”. she
said. “If you do not love your mother,
let the devil stay in her. It is all the
same to me.”

She dropped the strap to the floor
and lighted one of those cigarettes. By
this time I had grown to like these
smokes very much so I reached for
one and she gave it to me. I was
trembling from anger and from things
I could not seem to understand. I
needed the cigarette because I knew
it would help me. You understand
these were not tobacco cigarettes but
of the marihuana.

I lighted this cigarette and soon the
room was big and Lupe and the world
were far away. But I could hear Lupe
as she talked. She said, “It was not
your mother that cried out when I
struck her, It was the devil within
her. He must be driven out by force
or she will surely die. How would you
like for that to happen?” —.

Even then I knew. I wor? .* like
it. And of late I had growu‘'tS hate
that devil of which everyone told me.
Of a sudden I thought of my mother
not as my mother but as a “woman
possessed of a devil that must be driv-
en away.” So I helped Lupe.

We got two straps and we wv”
the devil hard. But before y» Go on
we moved my mother tc
That was on September 4. Well, as
moved her ther-vooms through th’
could not intnd into dear ol’ ’Frisco

For.gust. Barkentine Ada. Yus,
wats: correck. August. Well, I’m fed
‘ up on the blinkin’ ship, see? So I

comes to. Sacramento an’ gets me this
‘ere job as janitor in the church,

“hart! Just abart larfed me blinkin’
‘ead orf; me pushin’ a mop in a berth
run by a bunch o’ religioners. Not ’arf
so dusty, though, at that. Twenty-five
bucks a month, an’ me own cabin to
bunk in, just like a bloomin’ officer,
s'welp me.

“But us sailormen’s all alike. Ot-
foot, if yer tike me meanin’, I’m all
set to ’op it back to the blinkin’ briny;
quit me job an’ ’anded me mop an’
pail over to Davy Fountain, w’en s’welp
me if the British Consul in ’Frisco
doesn’t up an’ tell me I’m a bleedin’

non, and I’m ’is ’eir to the tune

It is hard to tell you of this, to
make you believe, or for me to believe

now that my head is clear. But then :

it was not clear and while there are
things I do not remember, there are
many that I do remember.

For there are things I cannot for-
get. One thing I know well—some-
times I would feel so strong and so
frenzied that I wanted to tear my own
clothes from me... There were times
when I saw things in a different, a
more normal light. Generally that was
after I had wakened from a deep sleep.
Though I always felt terrible, I could
think better.

You see, I know of medicine and of
the advancement of science. I would
sometimes hazily wonder how anyone
could believe in witchcraft when medi-
cal science has advanced so far that a
stitch can be taken in the human
heart.

I spoke of this to Lupe and she said

Around and around the room it went,
with Lupe and me after it. We knocked
over furniture and fell over each other.
When we got up the cat was gone, yet
the doors and windows were locked
and there was no way out. ,

It was that night my mother died.
September 8. I did not think of her
— as my mother but the next day I

new.

|7, WAS September 9 when my step-

father tried so hard to get into this
room where my mother lay dead.
When he finally went away Lupe and
I sat there smoking, but we were no
longer worried. We laughed. I laughed
mostly as I thought of that great black
cat we had chased around this room.
But as I laughed I looked fearfully
about because the cat had been so big
I was afraid it might come back. I
knew it had been a devil that some-
one had cast into this dead woman.

+

Olympia, Washington,
Dare Telll’”

ington.

killing his wife,

The death
Georgia,
Aycock
defense was
had killed Mrs. Sikes. This
the May, 1939,

intended for his

as Velma herself told in
was arrested in Van Wert,

returned to Mansfield.

Up to the Minute
to keep up with latest

Up to the Minute

jN THE December, 1939, issue of ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES of
Women in Crime detective work done to solve an assault case of

mick was given a life term and Marable was sentenced to the gallows.
This is the first death penalty for kidnaping In

Iso sentenced to death is Roger Cunningham of
Eudora, last March.
was the title of this case, published in the June, 1939, issue.

sentence originally given to Bill Aycock of Savannah,
sonment by Governor E. D. Rivers.

under the title, “But | Didn’t Plan the Chair for Bill.” :
Quickly found guilty of second-degree murder for putting poison,

Wojchick of Brattleboro, Vermont. This
Was Meant for Me,” appeared in the July,

Brown-haired Virginia Brawdy was
escaped with Velma West from the Mansfield, Ohio,
“One Fling Before |
issue. Black-haired Virginia Brawdy, black-haired by virtue of dye,
Ohio, after three months of freedom. She
must answer first charges of armed robbery in

is presented in this magazine to enable readers
developments in cases Previously described,

the history of Wash-

Oklahoma City for
““But Silence Isn’t Like Eudora’”

. Martha Sikes. Part of his trial

two other people was Alfred
case, called “But the Poison
1939, issue.

one of four women who
prison for women,
Die,” in the October, 1939,

Virginia before she is

that, too, was witchcraft. She had no
patience with it. We would smoke and
she would tell me of wonders she had
seen and then it seemed right to flog
the devil in this woman who was my
mother.

One day we were strapping this
devil when I looked up and saw two
people at a window. They seemed very
far away, but I knew them. They were

- Trena Mora and her mother. I knew
givey had come to see my mother and
“Yoaen us fighting this devil. Their
case. Evere twisted in horror and their
had your ae outstretched. I could tell
lookout for were suddenly enemies to
“Where were.upe.
What were you ud. the window but it
noon and three o’clay. When we got
“Beatin’ me way bac:
I told yer. ’Old me inzver I thought
cells an’ waste tim/bebn ‘driven away.
w’ile the real ey working hard and
it so far you’ll #vil and it was scream-
cop you are. Ak great black cat leaped
arf a eye thatfan. It was taller than
done it.” _.« its hair stood on end.
Still proteo the floor ‘screaming, and
printed anc it with the’ straps but we
informeg¢_-t hit it. :

air

What if they cast it into me? I asked
Lupe about it.

Lupe said, “Do not worry about that.
The tears of the Queen of England will
protect you.”

That was right and I’d_ forgotten.
So I put the cat from my mind.

There came a pounding on the front
door. It went on for‘a long time and
seemed very distant.’ Then it stopped
and I saw someone at the window. It
was a town official. He yelled some-
thing and disappeared, then the heavy
pounding started again.

I glanced at the dead woman, then
at Lupe. She said, “We may as well
Open that door. It is the law butting
into things that does not concern it.
The woman is dead and it is no fault
of ours but they will ask a lot, of
questions.”

So we went to the door. It took a
long time to get there and the pound-
ing kept on. It was like that tom-tom-
tom at Espino’s and got to ringing in
my head and soul.

When we got the door opened, Judge
Oden and a town policeman pushed by
us. They went to my room, then came
out and the policeman held us while

Sf

Judge Oden went away. After a while
he came back with Sheriff Robertson
and some more men. A doctor ‘was
with them. He was Doctor George
Garrett, who more than once had given
my mother medicine.

They took us to jail and locked us
up. A few minutes after that this
great black cat came to my cell. He
leaped on me and though I fought
hard he scratched me badly on the
legs and arms and I screamed.

A man with keys ran up to my cell
door. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The cat! The cat!” I screamed. “It
is getting into me. Take it away.”

The Sheriff came up and said some-
thing to the man with the keys. This
man said: “She’s higher than a kite.”

They went away and after a while I
went to sleep but I did not sleep well.
Several days later they took me and
Lupe out to a room where the Sheriff,
Doctor Garrett, Judge Oden and a lot
of others were. They asked us to sit
down. They looked at us strangely.

Judge Oden said, “Why did you kill
your mother, Lonicia?”

Though I felt bad, my head was
clear and so I told them everything I
have told here. Lupe jumped up and
Started kicking and pinching me.

“You will hang us, you fool!” she
screamed.

The officers stopped her and I went
on with my story. After a while they
locked us up again and Lupe yelled,
“But the devil was in her. Keep your
mouth shut, you fool, Tell them noth-
ing.” She has been yelling that ever
since.

But I am telling. Now it is hard to
believe these things and sometimes I
think they did not happen. But they
must have, because we are in jail, be-
ing held on murder charges and illegal
practise of medicine.

Senor Espino is in jail here. They
tell me his house was torn inside out,
the cross and everything else de-
stroyed. But they also tell me that he

. has violated no laws; they will release

him...
BUT Lupe and. I have violated the
laws of’God and we will be pun-
ished, This I know is as it should be.
My mother is dead and they say I
killed her. But I loved her. How
could I have done this thing? Lupe
says we did not do it. The law says we
did. Doctor Garrett. says we did. My
friend, Trena Mora, and her mother
said that they saw us doing it—they
watched us through -a:'window. My.
stepfather tells of being barred from
this room for five days and nights
while we were whipping my mother,
I do not remember everything but I
remember much and I know I would
not have done these things had it not
been for Lupe and the cigarettes.
Now I can only cry—and pray.

The Reeves County Health Officer’s
report on death of the mother of Loni-
cia Reyes was brief, It contained only
a bare hint of the strange suspicions
of these women and their marihuana-
induced dreams. The report read:

Marie Alverado de: Garcia—51
years-old. : .

September 9, 1939,

Death due to whipping and beat-
ing that had been inflicted on this
woman in an effort to drive out
the evil spirit.

(Signed)

George H. Garrett, M.D.
County Health Officer,
Reeves County.

Some time later, Guadalupe Rosales
de Ornelas was convicted of negligible
homicide. The setting of a date for
trial of Lonicia Moraiez y Reyes was
postponed indefinitely while she re-
mained in the Reeves County jail un-
der observation,

tuary Issue of ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES of

non, and fms “ere ores ey in Crime Goes on Sale Wednesday, January ° 17, >.

three hunnerd quidlets—that’s n-

38

Ns Poa
oe, be, is
ones,

LFto

AD—9a


-
\

MARABLE, Jack, wa, hangedWAsP. (Thurston), 10/4/1940

sy this time, but I couldn’t help read-
4g the record ... it held a morbid,
‘errible fascination for me as, word
»y word it melted away my dreams...
Between the lines I could tell how
enraged the police had been by the
audacity of the bandit, whose identity
they did not know. Chief Morrissey
laced the case in charge of one of
sis ace men, Lieutenant Arthur Heu-
er, of the Homicide Division. Mor-
vissey’s grim instructions to Heuber
vere: “Bring the Standard bandit in
lead or alive.”

ND to think the Standard bandit
was the man I loved!

From that time on, Maurice was the

vject of a ceaseless, 24-hour-a-day
volice search with his life in the bal-
ance if ever were he to be trapped
red-handed at his depredations. Heu-
»er threw into the manhunt the crack
ietectives of all divisions at Headquar-
‘ers, including Bushong, Aulls, Detec-
ives Edwin Kruse, Paul Taylor, Law-
rence McLaughlin, Fay Davis, Elbert
Romerill and Jack Bevis. Uniformed
Sergeants Nolan Hill and Dean
Schwartz were given a roving assign-
ment in a police car with orders to
contact every Standard store at least
twice each eight hours.

With a nearly impregnable trap thus
set, Heuber was chagrined to receive
a call on the afternoon of August 17
trom the manager of the Standard
store at No. 924 North Pennsylvania.

“I’ve just been robbed,” the manager
wailed. “The same fellow who’s been
holding up these other stores. He took
eighty dollars from my register and
he had the crust to tell me that the
next place he was knocking over was
our store at Eighteenth and College.
You’d better get down there fast.”

Within five minutes Heuber’s or-
ders over the radio had surrounded the
neighborhood of Eighteenth and Col-
lege with a dozen cruiser cars, a score
~* tectives and nearly a score of uni-

ed men. But it was labor lost.
‘ice either had been boasting to
himself talk or had changed his
mind after the coup on Pennsylvania.

Nothing more was heard from him
until September 11, when he suddenly
changed his pace and caught police
unawares. While they continued their
guard over the Standard stores, Mau-
rice walked into the office of the
Friehofer Baking Co., Inc., on South
Madison Avenue. Oblivious to a score
of other wide-eyed employes, he point-
ed a gun at Mrs. Betty Karsner, a
bookkeeper, and inquired politely:
“Where is the safe with the money?”

“It’s not in the safe,” the frightened
woman said.

“Oh, but it has to be,” Maurice as-
sured her. “This is pay day, you
know.”

Mrs. Karsner pointed to a shoe box
on a shelf behind her desk. Maurice
deftly leaped the railing behind which
he had been standing and raced to the
shelf, from which he snatched the box
containing $800 in cash in the em-
ployes’ envelopes. While the office
force looked on in speechless amaze-
ment, he bee-lined for the front door,
took the sidewalks in two jumps and
leaped into the old Chevrolet coach.

In this instance, however, Mrs.
Karsner showed great presence of
mind, dashing to the street after the
bandit just as the car was pulling
around the corner. She accomplished
the one thing that eventually led to

As the Psychiatrist Sees

further trouble might have been
avoided.

Criminals usually continue to run
true to form when once they have
adopted a life of crime. Wallace was
no exception to this rule. He mur-
dered his wife, Audrey, and Boyd Ben-
ton after he had been goaded by Ben-
ton.

There was absolutely no excuse
for this killing. If Audrey preferred
Benton, this was her own business. If
she chose to divorce her husband, Wal-

e, this was also her own affair. If

the Standard bandit’s downfall. Her
sharp eyes had registered the license
number on the getaway auto and this
she promptly turned over to Lieuten-
ant Heuber. ‘

The matter of determining the auto’s
owner was nothing more complicated
than checking the files in the State
Bureau of Motor Vehicles. These
showed that the license had been is-
sued to an Ernest Rutan, who listed
a West Washington Street address.
Hurrying to this address, Detectives
Aulls and Bushong learned that Rutan
had not been there since the middle of
the preceding May. At that time, ac-
cording to former neighbors of the
young mechanic, he and his wife had
been on direct relief dispensed by the
office of the Center Township Trustee
on South Senate Avenue.

Immediately Aulls and Bushong
checked records at the trustee’s office,
learning that Rutan, in providing in-
formation necessary to getting relief,
had given his former residence as Co-
lumbus, Indiana. An employe of the
trustee’s office remarked casually that
Rutan himself had requested discon-

tense and silent when I had stepped
into Willie’s car.

But what manner of man was he
who could speak so tenderly of love
in one hour and conduct his savage
bandit raids in the next?

The report in front of Morrissey,
combined with poor Bessie Grose’s
statement, supplied the answer.

I saw, with horror, one holdup of a
Standard store, at No. 318 Virginia
Avenue, listed under date of October
4 at 4:20 p.m.—less than three hours
before Maurice Martin had proposed
to me. Others had followed at irregu-
lar intervals, October 6, 17, 19, 25 and
30. All the while that Maurice had
been coming to see Ruth and me, he
had been carrying on his nefarious
banditry. Checking my own memory,
the dates pretty closely paralleled the
dates that Maurice had “been working
at his movie-projection job.”

What a poor little fool I’d been!

What a poor dupe Bessie Grose had
been!

Cunningly, Maurice had established
his own quarters in a cheap Washing-
ton Street hotel while leading her to

“Lady, You Don’t Dare Tell”

Crimes Upon Maizie Smith.”

_— Up to the Minute

desi tcke his guilt to the end, Jack Marable, 40, convicted of kid-
naping and criminally assaulting Mrs. Grace Roloff, was hanged
on October 4, 1940, at Washington State Penitentiary at Walla Walla.
He was the first person to be condemned to death under Washington’s
Lindbergh law. The history of this case appeared under the title,
in the December, 1939, issue of
ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES.

=m Chicago, Illinois, Robert Schroeder, 26, was sentenced to death
in the electric chair for the murder of eight-year-old Maizie Smith.
Execution was scheduled for December 15, 1940, but Schroeder still
has the right to appeal to the Illinois Supreme Court. The story of
this case appeared in the September, 1940, issue under the title, “The

Up to the Minute is presented as a department in ACTUAL
DETECTIVE STORIES from time to time to enable readers to keep
up with the latest developments in cases previously described.

tinuance of the relief in view of the
fact that he had procured employment
in a Columbus garage.

Indianapolis police asked the co-
operation of the sheriff's office at Co-
lumbus in tracing Rutan, but the im-
mediate results were discouraging. A
canvass of Columbus garages by the
sheriff turned up no trace of the youth.

My heart sank as Morrissey related
the story from that point on and I lis-
tened with amazement and more tears
to the details of a holdu. Maurice had
staged at a Standard Grocery at No.
1823 College Avenue shortly before
three o’clock on the afternoon of Oc-
tober 1.

October 1—how luridly the date
stood out in front of me as the after-
noon I had first met Maurice Martin.
Less than an hour before I had met
him he had staged one of his ven-
geance holdups, sardonically carrying
out the promise he had made to the
manager of the Pennsylvania Street
store on August 17.

Slight wonder that he had been so

she preferred a new cult to an estab-
lished religion, this was a matter to
be decided by her own conscience.
Wallace had no right to interfere with
her, much less to attack her and her
boy friend.

Wallace has proved that he is in-
capable of living in a world of free
men, because he does not have a well-
developed conscience. After his wife
deserted him a second time he became
a burglar. When she finally broke off
relations with him he revenged him-
self by killing her and her boy friend.

believe that the only home he knew
was the room the two shared together
on North Illinois Street. Selfishly con-
taining to himself the ill-gotten gains
of his bandit forays, Maurice had
dressed and eaten well when Bessie’s
“back was turned.” To her he kept
up the ragged, downtrodden appear-
ance that had been her first impres-
sion of him. His second self—prosper-
ous and well-meaning—he presented to
me.

Briefly Morrissey revealed the steps
by which Maurice had been identified.

At 7:30 o’clock on this very morn-
ing, the sheriff at Columbus had
spotted the dilapidated Chevrolet coach
with the suspected license number in
front of a restaurant in the heart of
the city. He immediately had arrested
young Rutan, who was inside eating.
Then he contacted Lieutenant Heuber,
who assigned Aulls and Bushong to
go to Columbus and return Rutan for
questioning.

They found the young mechanic
literally scared out of his wits and

more than willing to tell everything
he knew. He said he had sold his car
to Maurice without bothering to have
the title changed because Maurice
told him “that would cost money and
be unnecessaty anyway.”

Only the night before, Rutan said,
Maurice had returned in the car to
Columbus and had tried to re-sell it
to him for five dollars. Rutan hadn’t
the five, so Maurice told him to keep
the car which accounted for his posses-
sion of it when spotted by the sheriff.

On the way to Headquarters in In-
dianapolis, Rutan told the officers
about his mother-in-law and her con-
nection with Maurice. He even gave
the officers Bessie Grose’s number on
North Illinois. While Rutan was still
in the car, Aulls and Bushong stopped
at the North Illinois Street room and
picked up Bessie for questioning.
Pressed for information as to Maurice’s
whereabouts, Bessie whimpered thut
she hadn’t seen him since early in
October but suggested that Willie
Powers might know how to locate him.
Aulls and Bushong had gone directly to
Powers’ home and learned about me
and the hospital where I worked.
Willie told them nothing about the
wedding plans Maurice and I had, but
the detectives had assumed that the
best way to locate Maurice would be
by taking me into custody.

This they had accomplished at the
hospital and my trip to Morrissey’s
office had followed.

Under pressure—for even yet I could
hardly believe these things—I admitted
that Maurice was to be at my home
at seven o’clock and Morrissey, de-
lighted, immediately outlined the plan
by which I was to serve as the bait
that would draw Maurice into the
trap. I revolted fiercely but without
avail. It was my fate to betray the
man who had betrayed me—how I
hated this grim duty.

It was arranged that Aulls and
Bushong would accompany me home
and hide in my. bedroom until Mau-
rice arrived. In the meantime, Detec-
tives Kruse and Davis would cover
the house from the tall bushes in the
parkway across the street. It was be-
lieved that the prospects of disarming
Maurice would be better once he had
entered the front room.

What happened when Maurice ecn-
tered my parlor is already known.

On the following Monday he ap-
peared before Municipal Judge Charles
Karabell and pleaded guilty to armed
robbery after giving a detailed con-
fession to 22 holdups between May 30
and October 30. Municipal Judge Pro
Tem George Ober sentenced Maurice
to ten years in the Indiana State
Prison on November 14, 1940, upon
Maurice’s guilty plea. Ernest Rutan
and Bessie Grose, of course, were re-
leased from custody as soon as Mau-
rice had been captured, neither of them
being charged at any time with partici-
pation in Maurice’s crimes.

As for me, there is nothing else to
do except to do again what I did that
May morning when I walked from the
courthouse with my divorce papers—
grit my teeth and set about to recon-
struct my life on a level of self-suffi-
ciency.

I have learned a bitter lesson and
—although unhappy because of my
tragic love—I can thank Heaven and
the Indianapolis police for saving me
from the certain tragic consequences
of what might have been my hasty
wedding.

lt (Continued from Page 35)

Wallace conducted himself like a prob-
lem child. When he could not have
his own way he revolted against all
law, order and authority. He belongs
to a large group called “psychopathic
personalities,” and in addition he is
suffering from a neurosis. He is not
insane and certainly is responsible for
his acts.

The tragedy therefore can be ex-
plained on the basis of a neurotic girl
married to an equally neurotic boy.
In addition to being neurotic this
young man has no true concept of right

and wrong and therefore is not con-
cerned about the rights of others. He
has a total lack of conscience. Inter-
woven with these conflicts is a cult
called “I Am.” Needless to say, this
cult did not help Audrey to solve her
problems. It did not deter Edwin
Boyd Benton from goading a man,
who, in a way, was at his mercy and
whose wife had just left him. Lut,
again, I say that it was not the cult
that caused this crime. It was only
the warped personalities of the charac-
ters involved.

-


z ies
eS % F -- 2 ee Tae
“WILLER, Byron, SS W lashingbgn (Yakima count ‘on October 3, 193.
2 ges fe < foes: Ht ity — A GAA ee Fy = Sas DAILY } EPUBLIC,
| Hie arin Mlteebele
Wednesday, October3, “
ey Be = Dotcken 2 1024
Hn to wend oP pee Bee ‘Z Be x = a 4
Og the mighs soll ee - 4° 17) 7% 40 7
eae (JER PAYS FOR? i
os These apiece — ‘ €troes
tf au
¢ the Ain- , . wis
SSether mrss ester the Alp || ‘ual MURDER Sih

‘Srbz wes in Ee cea i
ew , ous receue ”
‘anSing ty to i2ks
ind when i$ became £*
The Lines is cf
Ag Ainderpy of 4550 oo
ee

Vere vessels Were

am we

“ATP cenrere PACATER

i thy wesitabees wer

loastwise Bas} Lins Into San|j

Petty Afier Accident in Fos

San Pedro, Cal.
Tha coascwies fretghiz’,
Point fan Peden, ram
grea xwater cutnde Les Angeles har-
tor during a heavy foe early toda

Backing off uncer her ow power,

tte S. 8S.

he fretghter imped {nto port to :
‘ne extent of her damage. A) ¥

chee

off the ‘crew if i:

tens and ||

ca. 3 (TP)—| 4

med into the

toas. guard beat ecavoyed her tog -

‘he docs.

The 32S-f20t veeze!, owned by the |
MeoCormicy Steamutip Co. operates |g

between San Liega and Seattle.

Meanwhile coast guard stations) j
v—-teq thas the motocship Atilax|§
ny ioszing, was proceeding | |
coward Cape Flattery while! §
«crs xept her afloat. The) @
A3 cne of the Alaska Packers | §

association feet. The cutter At-
lanta Ls expected to reach her side
today.

DANCING, VODVIL, GAMES,

STUNTS, AM
KINDS AT THE
NHS, OCFCDER 4th, 5th, AR-|
RY.

din sishily

Compilexicns

muddy-lockirg, blotchy and
rod—relisved and improved
with safe, medicated Resinol.

VSTMENTS OF ALL!
BENEFIT HI-!

ADMISSION 25 CENTS, |
Cee DANCE TICKETS. 3t2,

: Ahaes etm]
Sound that has
Tio echo -.

If you have headaches, feel nervous, Bere Rr’ vtaness. A long legal fight was
the echo of strained eyes and defective vision.
examination will tell you.

depend on the correct lenses.

OPEN SATURDAY EVENINGS

: Cs | ad

att S ayer oh, Before ce
ar “to His Death on Gal- -
‘Jows at Walla Walla.

alla, Oct. 3—(AP)—By-
ae leet) A tahton claver,
yb death at tHe state peni-
“a shortly after midnight this
: € 28 after telling his religious
-he was “glad to go”. be-
; the confinement was driving
Fand.

ae the scaffold, he appeared
ad his eyes were red, wit-

nf “greported. His voice was calm,

“gt, aS he said at the last:
Sod pless you and have mercy
ou soul. To my wife and babes,
jyou goodby.”
Dead at 12:23 A. M.
‘ pwas pronounced dead by the
‘ qphysician at 12:23 a. m.
y hanging occurred nearly

~ «years and a half after Mar-

4 George Warring of Mabton
“set and killed as he entered

‘Jer home, summoned by Mrs.
s to arrest her husband for

At. x to the state supreme court
If you need glasses, yeegene reprieve by Gov. Martin

gand the hanging from July 20

fy notes which he left in the
¢ the prison warden, Miller
4a will, in favor of his widow
a7 children, one 12 years old
‘se other three, and asked that

a: ef oain, be given to his brother

~ OPTOMETRIST

2081, East Yakima Avenue

ea “oe me
of

ce Seat nae cor

g “Ky ar

ae Se geget er

a

oURE

Sar ee

hin ies

BS leg

Got" eversthing! Mae West parading Hocks“of new“gowns737
ging”nsw songs to her new ‘toll, dark and handsomes to the

mtopating eccompeoniment of Duke Ellington's’ Orchestra ..3

Pe a Be

Axe

Starts

TONITE!

sda

Aw

7; atakima. He had played on it
¥ + Act the time while he was in

@ ath cell.
Appears Rational

4-2 Rev. P. Schmitt, who bap-
f im into the Lutheran faith
“7k months ago, was with him
4 frening, He said that Miler
ee perfectly rational, despite
katement that he wished the
ae as it was “driving him
ie losing his last ‘appeal to
a fate supreme court, he was
Greed to die July 20, but Gov.
. heeded a petition to have
Snity studied, and he was
*d a reprieve.
funeral will be held at his
Sn home in Mabton, near Sun-
~ The body was shipped there

e on

i TUBERS BIRTH TOTAL
op tenes NEW RECORD,

Anilies Living in Territory
re Union Gap Report Ad-
ditions During Month
largaret Sanger, advocate of!

Pz

Sigh OTT
rs . 4k

shire EE

ree

GT mee OT RY | INE TTT ITN PTT
e ,
aie ‘

Surrounded by peu.
kopf, extreme left, hex:
Lindbergh is shown fx
county court house as.
probing the kidnaping ¢
R. Hauptmann.

WILKINS WILL S72
CINCIIATSS &.

Defeated Republican
Meet Tonight to
paign for The:r
Yakima political acu
simmered down to & 7-
be eon: ered by the a4
cinnatus tonight at °
of commerce, and a &
party headquarters th.
Republican office seex:
defeated in the prim -
ored Citizens Repub-s
last night and cramce
of women headed by
Williams, to. invite au
tered voters in the be
@ rally in the reat
W. J. Wilkins of Se
natus candidate for ¢
senator, will be the pri
er at the chamber !
Kohagen, president of
incinnatus post, eae
as an able speaxer &
sistant prosecuting
King county.
D. V. Morthiand be

j activins ies of the defeat
. macene the bel

True Detective Mysteries

r WHERE\ /vesTeR
VULLET
de a a Srauck } | FELL
w WALL HERE
= So a
WHER a=
ACCOMPLICE) | | “a
ROBBED |
TILL
CAGES Tcounrer 10
aa x
OQ ea

PATH PATH Boda
oF OF FIRED
MuRDERER) | ACCOMDU! AT
VESTER

miles away, H. H. Maxwell, district special agent of the
Railway Express Agency, paused during his evening meal
to rip open a telegram. He read its contents hurriedly,
glanced at his watch, ordered a taxi, grabbed an ever-
ready bag and started for the train that within a few min-
utes would depart for Spokane.

That telegram had, with its curt message, carried in-
structions to Mr. Maxwell stating the stern policy of
the Railway Express Agency concerning all criminal at-
tempts against itself and its property. A policy that now
threatens to eclipse even that famed motto of the Cana-
dian Mounted Police. The ‘‘Mounties” say, “Get your
man.” ‘To the special agents of the Railway Express
Agency as much is understood. Time and expense mean
nothing in the chase. Seemingly the entire resources of
the Railway Express Agency are behind them, Results
is the only demand. “Bring in your man!”

The crook that unknowingly or knowingly defies th;
demand, gambles his wits and cleverness against

~~

' ye’ Railway Ex-
aia oe” SY _’ ¢@" . &press Agency.

For Special Agent-H,.H. Maxwell of the Northwest dis-
“Arict it was to be mofiths before, he should again enjoy the

comforts of his home. He was to travel over a hundred

‘thousand miles by rail and auto before the chase ended.

hree of themen whose work was in-.
strumentdai in clearing up the mystery

(Above) Diagram of
the crime’ scene, de-
picting the movements
of the killer and his
accomplice when they
descended without
warning on the sole
occupants of the ex-
press office. Cashier

Ivester 4
Johnson, a clerk... ste
gre

He was to sign vouchers for,
and himself disburse over
fifty thousand dollars from
his criminal investigation
budget. Yet that figure would
represent only a part of
what the. Railway Express
Agency was willing to spend.
And it was only a part of
what they did spend.

At the same moment Spe-
cial Agent W. J. Griffith of
the Salt Lake district, was
rushing north. From St.
Paul an agent.rushed
west. Wes Rutl
fore of the Sar

cisco office also came to
Spokane. The investigating
machinery of the Railway
Express. Agency was in mo-
tion A machine so com-
_pletely and efficiently organ-

FOR THE LAW!

ignorant would deliberately

that-sh uded the crime. (Left to det i
stghgye Detective Arthur A. Aik- ety it.
 ty@is, of the Spokane Police Depart- At Spokane Mr. Maxwell
rent sete Floyd ~y dete + ee. weat immediately to the
gr kane County, # ward Litch- = Jocal police. Quickly he
» field, crack reporter of the Spokane reviewed the police _re-

Spokesman -Review

f ports of the crime. Though

the police had covered the case with efficiency and thor-
oughness, they had dittle to offer. Ivester was dead.
Six hundred and sixty dollars in cash was missing. The
clerk, Johnson, could give but a vague description of only
the man who had covered him The man who murdered

Ivester had remained screened by the cashier's cage.

ized that only the most |

Enoug
Three a!
fully. ‘1
Johnson
dummy
entering
in one :
had hur
ber of t!
would v
him in

Two.
ing wit!
agents
seem t
fantasti
office a
These
circle e
descrip
from in
who ha
pany’:

way a
whom


Ais in re av ne a P

Wh Se &

Re.

BA ru,
Beare aaity

THE CLUE!
An actual photo of the
empty .45-caliber car- |
tridge shell, found at the
crime scene. Beginning
with this clue, sleuths -
built up a case that is one
of the classics of Amer-
ican detective annals

ITHIN the down-
town offices of the
Railway Express

Agency, Spokane,
Washington, the front win-
dow lights had just been
extinquished, leaving the
flood of work lights above
the cashier’s cage and re-
ceiving counter in the rear,
to shed a warm, inviting
glow. All the express com-
pany’s employes except
two had departed, it being
a few minutes after 6
o'clock. At a desk to the
rear of the receiving coun-
ter, W. G. Johnson, express:
clerk, sat completing the
entry upon his report sheet
for the day, October 30th,
1929. Behind the wicket
of the cashier’s cage, John
Ivester, cashier, stood ab-
sérbed in the tally of his
day’s cash. Dimly the
rumble of the evening
traffic, wheeling through

(a Naan latin GAG eS

Ign Bhs

-the street beyond, sounded above the after-hour quietness.

Suddenly the office’s front door opened. Into the warm
light within pushed two men; one, with a large, wrapped
package under his arm; the other,. a half-frightened look
upon his face as he glanced toward the dial of the wall clock.

“Are we too late?” the voice of one of the men boomed,
as, with his query, he advanced across the space between
the front door and the receiving counter.

John Ivester, an old employe, deep in his counting of the
day’s receipts, barely lifted his head in reply. To him these
last minute customers with their breathless rush to slip their

56

me

Exterior view of the downtown offices of the Railway Express Company in Spokane,

Washington. Shortly after 6 o’clock on the evening of October 13th, 1929, two desperadoes,

posing as patrons, entered the establishment.

Ivester, the faithful cashier, with the command to “Stick ’em up!” Ivester was a trifle
slow in complying and was immediately shot dead

express packages beneath the closing time barrier were

sheet. With the fleeting glance he had allowed in re-
sponse to the squeak of that opening front door, he _ had
branded these two men as such. The clumsy package
beneath the arm of one vouched for the correctness of his
diagnosis, John Ivester barely motioned with his head
toward the receiving counter in the rear. Already the
man with the package was headed toward it.

“Stick em up, you, and stick 'em high!”

The command was hissed at Ivester from beyond
the wicket of the cashier’s cage. What John Ivester's
reactions to that command were no one will ever know.
Perhaps, with the duty-bred determination of an old and
faithful employe, his hand reached for the gun beneath
the counter-top where he was working. Perhaps, in
startled surprise at the suddencommand, he stepped back,
Perhaps he only stood and stared. One thing is sure,

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EXPRESS

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THE MURDER SCENE!
One of them levelled an automatic at John
however, he failed to comply with the command with that

promptness which theman behind thegun muzzle poked through
the wicket bars desired. A pistol shot roared: above the

room’s quiet. John Ivester slumped tothe floorofhiscage,dead. |

However, these were no straw-nerved stickups who now,
with automatics hugged close to their hips, took over the
office. Quickly the man at the receiving counter dropped
his dummy package and covered the clerk, Johnson. As
quickly he hurried him into a closed room in the rear, forced
him to lie flat upon the floor, and then bound him hand and
foot with a heavy shoe-lace. As Johnson lay helplessly

l

A

2a Lene

as familiar as the heavy typed heading on his report |

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renee a

bound, the
but a few
well warnis
Within |
Ivester hac
cashier's ci
raked the

jy NOTH

group
and had hi
moved out
into the ni

Five mi
bonds in t
alarm. Ar

At eight


a? del

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barrier were
mn his report
llowed in re-
oor, he had
msy package
‘ectness of his
vith his head
Already the
it.

from beyond
ohn Ivester’s
ill ever know.
of an old and
» gun beneath

Perhaps, in
stepped back.
thing is sure,

1 Spokane,
esperadoes,
tic at John
vas a trifle

mand with that
le poked through
oared: above the
rofhiscage, dead.
ckups who now,
3, took over the
counter dropped
k, Johnson. As
1 the rear, forced
id him hand and
mn lay helplessly

A wanton murder, a slender clue—and a frenzied one-
hundred-thousand-mile chase, the killer always a step
ahead of the human bloodhounds. .. .

Then came the “break”!

By Jay J. KALEz

AGENCY

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bound, the bandit fired two shots, the muzzle of his gun being
but a few inches from Johnson’s ear. With that as a fare-
yell warning, the man rushed from the room.

Within the express office the man who had first covered
Wester had already made his way behind the counter to the
ashier’s cage and, stepping over the dead body of his victim,
raked the stacked money from the counter into his pockets.

<a!

NOTHER minute and, calmly ignoring the inquiry of a
group of pedestrians who had heard the shots within
and had halted at the express company’s doors, the two men
moved out of the office, down the street and disappeared

into the night’s gloom.

Five minutes later Johnson, having freed: himself of his
bonds in the inner room, rushed ‘» the street and gave the
alarm, An army of police rushed t ‘he scene.

At eight o’clock of that same night, some three hundred

THE
KILLER!
He snuffed
out human
life with less
regret than
the cobra,
but he left
his grim
trade mark
behind

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The Clue of the

Enough as to the crime. As to clues; there were three.
Three at which even the police shook their heads doubt-
fully. There were a heavy shoe-lace, the bond that held
Johnson; a neatly wrapped package that had formed the
dummy the holdups used in support of their deception on
entering the office; and, lastly, the empty cartridge found
in one corner of the office where the murderer’s pistol
had hurled it in ejecting it automatically from the cham-
ber of the gun he fired. .Three concrete clues. What crook
would worry over any one of them ever stacking against
him in his gamble with the gallows?

Two days passed. Two days in which detectives work-
ing with Maxwell and the other Railway Express Agency’s
agents lost themselves in the maze of false leads that |
seem to entangle every crime. False tips, wild theories,
fantastic presumptions, all flowed into the detective
office and all, in vain hope, were traced and checked.
These were two days in which everything moved in a
circle except for one definite accomplishment. A vague
description of the murdering holdup men had been gained
from interviews with the pedestrians
who had halted at the express com-
pany’s door-
way and past
whom the two

bandits had made
their way. A descrip-
tion so vague as to be
almost useless.

By the third day two of the clues discovered at the
scene of the murder proved worthless. The shoe-
lace was hopelessly useless. As to the dummy package,
it was found to contain an original package of an article

such as would undoubtedly be purchased by.a Woman and»

not aman. By the wrapping and brand of this article, it
was traced to one of the five-and-ten-cent stores. There,
by mere reason that a man had made the purchase and
not a woman, the clerk remembered making the sale.
Again a description was. gained. A description vague and
far from positive. There remained. now only the empty
cartridge of the bullet that had snuffed out Ivester’s life.
At first sight it, too, seemed hopeless.

To this date only the Spokane city police and the
express company’ agents had worked on the case. The
murder having happened within the city, the county
forces had not attempted to enter the case. The county’s
Department of Criminal Investigation merely stood by
in readiness should their services be desired or called for.

Deputy Sheriff Lawrence A. Albert, Chief of the
Spokane County Bureau of Investigation, had, however,
for his own satisfaction, become familiar with all the
phases of the Ivester murder. Albert, whose brilliant
work in several former murder cases had gained him no
little respect and reputation for his detective ability,

Empty Cartridge

59

while not pushing himself forward, had made his own
private investigation of each available clue. To do this
without giving the city police the impression that he was
attempting to override them in the case, required tact, |
It was with the hope of gaining some further knowledge’
of the evidence at hand that Albert arranged a meeting
between himself and Edward Litchfield, police reporter
for the Spokesman-Review.

Knowing Litchfield was in direct contact with all pro-
gress of the case, Albert called him to the county office to
inquire just how far the case had progressed. In the course
of the talk between Litchfield and Albert, each clue was
discussed. Speaking of the empty cartridge upon which
all effort was , 2
now being con-
centrated,

(Above) _ Police

photograph of the

death bullet as it

looked when taken from Ivester’s

body. (Extreme left) Deputy

Sheriff Lawrence Albert, Chief of the
Spokane County Bureau of Indentifica-
tion, examining the murder pellet and the

empty cartridge

Litchfield made the statement that the: cartridge bore the
rim marking, F. A. 27. Albert grasped at the clue.
Albert, who, besides having served as an officer through-
out the World War, is now a captain in the National
Guard, possessed a world of information regarding
government ammunition as dispensed in the United
States. From the marking alone, he was. instantly able

-to ‘classify the cartridge as one of a 1927. issue manu-

factured at Frankford arsenal. As well, he was able to
vouch for the knowledge that ammunition of this type
was seldom handled by hardware dealers, as the shell
is of a type that might be called obsolete.

With this discovery credited to the observation and
casual mention by police reporter Litchfield, the county
Department of Criminal Investigation immediately offered
its service to Mr. Maxwell and his host of agents working
on the case. Albert’s contention was immediately put to
the test. Telegrams quickly brought the information that

- 45 caliber automatic cartridges of an F. A: 27 stamp were

dispensed in the Spokane district at only one wholesale
point. Further hurried inquiry drew from the whole-
saler that there were but two retail stores in Spokane to
which F. A. 27 cartridges had been sold.

Special Agent Maxwell and Deputy Sheriff Albert
hurried to a pawn-shop in the lower end of town known as
Ben and Joe’s. What the proprietor told them imme-
diately raised their hopes. “ Yes, «he carried a small
supply of .45 caliber ammunition of the obsolete govern-
ment stamp. In fact, he had found it hard to get rid of
the small supply he had originally bought. His only sale
‘in months had been sixty-five cents worth of shells sold
with a .45 caliber automatic bought a few days previous.
The purchaser had not specified the kind of cartridges
desired so he had palmed off the (Continued on page 111)


we can trace what’s in
urner exclaimed.

| the box by the string
-xpectedly light. There
t the express clerks had
two officers gingerly un-
careful not to smudge
‘ints. They found a 15-
-+ napkins of a type sold
stores all over.the nation.
les slip or other identifi-

disappointment, Aikman
to dust for fingerprints,
a detective to check the
gister and to call Van-
, check the address on the

DARING

shuddering. “They

nas “You're right about my bein

afraid ‘to talk,”: the girl’ sai

d they'd
get me if I-opened my mouth:
But I'll testify that they planned ~

“job and I'll identify that

package. Next, he had a tracer made of
the handwriting, and called in a hand-
writing expert to compare the writing on
the package with registers of every hotel
in Spokane.

Aikman realized that aside from the
descriptions of the killers, he had just two
clues—the brass cartridge cases and the
handwriting on the decoy package—and
he wanted to develop them quickly.

Highways were blockaded and the
underworld combed all night without
success. By morning it was clear that
the dark lookout man and the blond
trigger man who had_ so ruthlessly
slaughtered young John Ivester, had es-
caped capture. Spokane citizens read their

DETECTIVE

morning papers and grumbled angrily.
The Fort Wright lead petered out. No
guns or ammunition were missing. All
men absent from the reservation had
proved their innocence. The “F. A.”
stamped on the cartridge cases was eX-
plained. It meant, “Frankfort Arsenal.”

The handwriting expert was still at
work. Harry Maxwell, chief special
agent of the Railway Express company,
had rushed to Spokane with ace investi-
gators. The county had assigned Deputy
Sheriff Lawrence Alberts (now with the
FBI) to work with City Detective Art
Aikman.

Then began a long and tedious check
of all the secondhand stores and pawn-
shops in Spokane, in an effort to trace the
ammunition, Finally the officers found a
store that stocked army issue. Eagerly,
Aikman asked, “You sold any army issue
forty-fives lately ?”

The clerk shook his head. “Not for a
long time. But if you're tracing army
ammunition, there’s only one other store
in Spokane that stocks it. Ben and Joe’s
Place.”

Aikman and Alberts hurried to the
skid-road secondhand store. Joe was in
charge and his answer was prompt:
“Sure. A couple of weeks ago, I sold a
forty-five Colt army automatic and a box
of twenty army issue cartridges.”

“You remember what arsenal they
came from?”

Joe disappeared and came back with a
box. “Here’s some just like I sold that
fellow. Frankfort Arsenal, stamped F. A.
See?”

Aikman compared them with the one
he had found near Ivester’s body. “Ex-
actly alike!” he told Alberts exuberantly.
To Joe, he said, “You remember the man
who bought them? Can you describe
him?”

“Fe was a blond guy,” Joe said easily.
“T’ye seen him around town often. Mid-
dle-aged guy, about forty.”

“You don’t know his name ?”

Joe shrugged and shook his head. Then
he suddenly brightened. “Hey, maybe
this will help. I just remember, this guy
had a card from an old man who runs a
clothing store down the street. The old
boy sent him to me to buy a gun.”

The detectives hurried to the clothing
store, where they found the elderly pro-
prietor on duty. Art Aikman wasted
no time on preliminaries. “Joe says you
sent a man to him to buy a gun about two
weeks ago,” he announced.

The old proprietor blinked behind his
glasses. “Yes.”

“Who was the man?”

“Well, they call him Whitey. That’s
the only name I know. I don’t know him
very well. He bought a suit from me
once.”

“What did Whitey want the gun for 7”

“T don’t know. He tried to buy one
from me, but I don’t sell guns. I sent him
to Joe.”

“Where does Whitey live ?”

“J don’t know. Some hotel, I think.”

Aikman was disgusted. “You can give
us more information than that,” he
snapped. “We suspect this man Whitey
of committing a murder last night. De-

scribe him, tell us who his friends are.”

The old man’s description of Whitey
tallied exactly with that of the blond
murderer. He also described a “for-
eigner” he once had seen with Whitey,
and this description also tallied with that
on John Doe warrant number two, the
dark-skinned accomplice. He said that
Whitey was a bootlegger who once had
worked in carnivals, had been a lumber-
jack and a short-order cook. Whitey had
once given the old man a ride in a car
which Whitey had borrowed.

“Describe the car,” Aikman said
sharply.

“Well, it was a Pontiac coupe, sort of
olive green, I guess.”

This was no shining pearl of informa-
tion, but it was all that could be obtained
from the old store owner. Aikman hur-
ried to headquarters to set his machine
into action, He put men to questioning
skid-road hotel clerks with descriptions of
Whitey and the foreigner. Dry-squad de-
tectives unfortunately had no leads on
a blond bootlegger named Whitey. On
a long shot, Aikman put out a bulletin
asking all officers to watch for an olive
green Pontiac coupe driven by a blond
man.

AIKMAN had just finished reading a
report from the handwriting expert,
who had checked most of the Spokane ho-
tels without finding. the handwriting he
was looking for, when a detective hurried
in with a sheaf of papers.

“We've got a stolen car report on an
olive green Pontiac coupe,” he an-
nounced. “Stolen last night from down-
town, same time as the murder.”

“T don’t understand this,” Aikman said,
grabbing his hat and the report, “but I’m
sure going to find out about it?

The owner of the car, one Violet Tous-
saint, greeted Aikman coolly at the door
of her apartment.

Violet Toussaint was a tall, very pale
woman of about 35. Surveying the de-
tective with large, dark but wary eyes,
she said she knew only that her car had
been parked on the street the evening be-
fore and now it was gone. Aikman tried a
shrewd shot in the dark.

“Maybe Whitey took it.”

The woman answered before she
thought. ‘No, Whitey wouldn’t take it
without asking. What do you know about
Whitey Cummings ?”

“Well,” Aikman said easily, “Cum-
mings uses your car sometimes, doesn’t
he? What is his first name ?”

“Frank, Frank Cummings. He bor-
rows my car once in a while, but he al-
ways asks for it. No, it wasn’t Frank.
Some kid probably knocked it over.”

“How well do you know Frank Cum-
mings ?”

“Oh, pretty well. He lives at the hotel
where I work.”

Concealittg his eagerness, Aikman
asked, “Where is he now?”

“Why, around somewhere, I suppose.
I’m not his keeper.”

“Where was he last night ?”

“T don’t know. I saw him and Bill in

[Continued on page 70)

15

Grabbing a flashlight and a machine gun,
they climbed to the roof of the building.
Waiting quietly, they heard a car ap-:
proaching. They could not see it well. It
was a dark shadow of a car running with-
out headlights. The car stopped. A door
opened. Men’s voices sounded in the
night. There was a soft whistle.

Alberts pointed the machine gun into
the air. Aikman flashed the light in the
direction of the voices and whistled
shrilly. Alberts squeezed a burst of fire
from the racketing machine gun. Men’s
voices sounded in quick retreat. The car
door slammed again and_ headlights
flashed on as the car raced away.

“We've got to get Miller out of here,”
Aikman snapped. “We must get him back
to Spokane as soon as we can.”

They found Miller in his cell, excited
and disappointed. ‘You guys are smart,”
Miller said. “But I’ll be sprung. You'll
never take me to Spokane.”

Newspapers carried the story that
Miller was to be returned to Spokane by
way of Chicago. A group of Railway Ex-
press agents went through Chicago as a
decoy. They were attacked by gunmen
who quickly fled when they saw Miller
was not in the group. Aikman and Alberts
had sneaked Miller away from Bryan by
another route, and they brought him safe-
ly to Spokane.

In Spokane, the stocky, muscular blond
suspect boastfully talked about his life of
crime. He said he had lived by his wits
and a gun since he was 12, and that he was
a Robin Hood, stealing and giving money
to his pals who were down and out. He
bragged of his crimes, but claimed he had
nothing to do with the Railway Express
stickup and killing.

Aikman built his circumstantial case
against Miller. Johnson, the clerk, identi-
fied Miller as the killer. Joe, the army
store proprietor, identified Miller as the
man to whom he had sold a gun and am-
munition.

Aikman thought he knew how to break
down Miller’s resistance. With an aide,
he went to see Violet Toussaint.

“Violet,” he said easily, “your friend
George Miller is behind bars and he’ll
stay there. He couldn’t get out to hurt
anybody if he wanted to.”

Violet’s white teeth flashed between
parted red lips. She seemed quite relaxed,
“I know that,” she said, “So?”

“So if I were a young woman who had
nothing to be afraid of, and I didn’t like
George Miller as much as I pretended to,
and I wanted to stay in good with the law,
why, I believe I’d do a little talking,”
Aikman said. :

The attractive brunette lost her smile.
The detective’s seemingly casual invita-
tion for her to talk contained both a prom-
ise and a threat, and she realized it.

“Why not?” she said, shrugging. “I’m
not stupid. I’ll testify that George Miller
planned for six months to stick up the
Railway Express office. He was always

talking about that job and I knew he .

pulled it. I can identify that decoy pack-
age for you, too. Miller and his foreign
pal, Bill, came to my room just before the
stickup, They had a small, white pack-
age and they both had guns.” The woman
paused for an instant and gave an almost
imperceptible shudder. Then she said,
“You were right about my being afraid to
talk. They told me they’d get me if I so
much as opened my mouth.”

“You will testify to all this at the trial?”
Aikman asked eagerly.

“Yes. Whitey murdered Mr. Ivester,
and he’s got to pay for it.”

Elated, Aikman turned the case over to
the county prosecutor. They went to
Miller again and told him that Violet
Toussaint would testify against him.
Miller thought this over and then gave
up. “All right,” he said. “I admit I was
there. But my pal did the shooting. I
didn’t kill Ivester.”

Aikman knew from Johnson’s state-
ments and description of Miller that
Miller had fired the death gun ‘himself,
but he did not press the point. Instead,
he asked, “Who was your pal? Was Bill
Gannon your accomplice?”

Miller drew himself up stiffly. “Some-
thing I will never do is squeal on a pal,”
he announced with great dignity.

For weeks, officers tried to convince
Miller that he should name his accom-
plice, but they could not get a word out
of him, This was a serious setback to
Aikman: in forming his case against the
dark foreigner, but finally Aikman felt
that he had an airtight case against
George Miller. Prosecutor C. W. Green-
ough brought the case against Miller in
Judge R. M. Webster’s State Superior
court, and Miller pleaded not guilty. For
days Greenough skillfully presented his

case, dramatically presenting Violet
Toussaint’s clinching testimony. After 27
hours’ deliberation, the jury found Miller
guilty of murder in the first degree. Miller
appealed the case.

While Judge Webster was considering
the appeal, the thousands of flyers sent
out by the persistent investigators paid
dividends. Bill Gannon tried to buy a
diamond ring with a check in a Long
Beach, Cal., jewelry store. The jeweler
recognized Gannon from the Railway
Express bulletin, and pulled a gun from
a desk drawer.

Gannon dashed from the store, the jew-
eler after him. Along downtown streets
they raced until a policeman entered the
chase and collared the fleeing forger. But
a moment later Gannon kicked the pa-
trolman hard on the ankle, jerked away
and escaped from his crippled captor.

Desperate for money, Gannon tried
again immediately, in a jewelry store in
San Jose, -Cal., and this time the jeweler
pulled his gun.before Gannon could es-
cape. Gannon was brought to Spokane,
and when he was identified by witnesses
as Miller’s companion, he confessed his
part in the murder of John Ivester.

“TI was there,” Gannon said in a voice
slightly tinged with foreign accent, “but

‘George Miller murdered John Ivester. I -

realize that I am just as guilty as if I had
killed him myself, but I want you to know
that I did not fire the shot. I’ve always
been a forger and confidence man. This
is.my first job of violence. George Miller
killed John Ivester.”
“Why, that man’s crazy,” Miller said.
But everyone chose to believe the evi-
dence in the case and the words of Wil-
liam Gannon. On Sept. 13, 1930, Judge
Webster denied appeal and sentenced
George Miller to be hanged until dead.
Gannon’s. true name proved to be Cas-
imir Von Bojarski, and under this name
he was sentenced by Judge Webster to
serve a life term in Washington state
penitentiary, beginning Oct. 6, 1931. The
forger’s distinctive handwriting on the
decoy package, the only clue officers had
to his identity, had been his undoing. x
Trapped by a brass cartridge shell and
an olive green coupe, George Miller, who
had blasted life from an innocent young
man as a climax to 28 years of violent
crimes, was hanged in Washington state
penitentiary on Dec, 18, 1931,

Secret Tryst of the Strindled Nude

Martin, who said, “Looks to me like he
was trying to hide something, wearing
that raincoat.”

A check of the hotel’s books did not
show that anyone had checked out at that
hour. Three guests-had paid in’ advance.
These had been the contractor’s wife, a
traveling salesman, and the guest in Room
48, Wilson.

Martin had. noted one peculiar fact.
Miss Elisen had brought several dresses
with her, all found hanging in the clothes
closet, yet no grip or suitcase had been
found in her room. He wondered what
had become of it.

He learned from the bellboy who had
served Miss Elisen that she had carried
a long, brown-leather suitcase with straps
around it, a hat box and a package
wrapped in brown paper. The paper was
found in the wastebasket in the room and
the hat box on the top shelf of the closet.

72

[Continued from page 35]

It contained one of Miss Elisen’s latest

creations in feminine head wear, accord-

ing to the label on the box. But no lug-
gage of any kind could be found. The
bellboy who had taken Miss Elisen to
her room happened to be the same boy
who later had brought her the cocktails.

The bellboy who had carried the grips
for the guest who had departed early
Wednesday morning described ‘the man’s
luggage as a black handbag and a brown-
leather suitcase.

“Did the suitcase have straps on it?”
Martin asked anxiously.

“Yes,” the youth said, “I’m sure it did.”

“Which way did he go?”

“He got a cab at the door.”

Martin checked up and found that there
was no train, leaving Mirineapolis at that
early hour.. The first one out was at 8
o'clock,

“He seemed in an awful hurry,” the
bellboy added.

The cabby who had been at the hotel
entrance Wednesday morning was soon
found. He worked the “graveyard” shift
from midnight until 8 o’clock in the morn-
ing.

“Sure I remember that fellow,” he said.
“T took him to the Northwestern depot in
St. Paul to catch a train.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He didn’t say, but there was a. train
south at seven-ten. I guess it was that
one he caught.”

The cabby. revealed that his fare had
paid well for the trip. “He gave me a

ten spot,” he said, “and told me to keep’

the change.”

The generosity of the man interested
Martin. The average run of traveling
men did not hand out ten-dollar bills
so freely. He decided that Wilson, if in-

. deed it had been Wils

type of hotel guest kn:
men. But he wonder
would have taken his
a bag could be so eas:

Late that afternoon t
Sen, wired from Eau (
that he had changed |
last moment in order |
ing near Eau Claire, |
in Eau Claire for two
that if the police wish
they would find him a
He stated that he woul:
apolis on Saturday.

Because of the ne\
the case, Minneapolis
wait until Sen returne
They were now intere:
man who had left the h
day morning, certain tl
derer. Sen had check
Wednesday.

Another developme:
some light on the mys
received by the police
a conductor for a rail:
that Miss Elisen had t
worth to Minneapolis 0
night. He Said he had
several years and on
had acted as her busin

She had told him en
a draft for $3,000 which
in Minneapolis, but tl
no one in the Twin Cit
some difficulty in getti:
wrote that he had h:z
Minneapolis before r
promised to take her
the draft cashed. Th

@ “torrents o1
noon when I arriv
where the river turr
that I lost track of ti

30 East 42nd
Unit of Union Carbi.


the afternoon, but not since. Now listen,
what's this got to do with my stolen
Pontiac?”

“Who is this Bill who was with
Whitey?” Aikman asked.

“IT never saw him before. Some for-

eigner, a friend of Whitey’s.”

Aikman nodded with satisfaction as
Violet Toussaint described the foreigner.
Bill undoubtedly was the same man all
the others had described as the killer’s
friend and accomplice. But Violet Tous-
saint did not know Bill’s other name. She
claimed to know nothing more than she
had told, and Aikman finally had to give
up questioning her. But now he had
plenty of leads to follow. °

He hurried to the hotel the woman had
named and was taken to Frank Cum-
mings’ room. A maid reported that the
bed had not been slept in the night before,
nor had Cummings been seen at the hotel
since. the murder. Aikman was disap-
pointed in the contents of the room, for
he found nothing that gave any clues to
Cummings’ habits or whereabouts. Just
a few clothes, nothing else. He tried the
pen and ink on the desk, but they were
not the type used on the decoy package.

A try for results by questioning proved
futile. “Oh, yes, I’ve seen a dari:-skinned
foreign-looking fellow come in a couple
of times with Cummings, but I don’t
know anything abcut him,” the cay clerk
said. Nobody else knew the man.

George Miller, right, was the
callous gunman who shot down
a defenseless clerk in a raid on
the Railway Express agency,
above, in Spokane, Wash. Ac-
complice Casimir Von Bojarski,
far right, was the clever forger
who prepared the decoy package
and acted'as lookout while his
pal plundered and killed.

70

[Continued from page 15]

Aikman shook his head angrily as he
went along the street. Whitey Cummings
and his foreign accomplice seemed to be
cf those nebulous denizens of the under-
world who are here, there, and every-
where—and suddenly are nowhere, with
no trail leading to their whereabouts. Re-
viewing the facts, however, Aikman felt
certain that he had established the identity
of the killers of John Ivester. Descrip-
tions of killer and accomplice exactly
fitted those of Whitey Cummings and
Bill. Whitey had purchased gun and am-~
munition of the type used to kill Ivester.

But where were Whitey and Bill? And
how could they be taken?

Aikman thought he knew—flyers. Fly-
ers, radio flashes, constant dinning of
the descriptions of the wanted men into
the ears of officers throughout the North-
west. That. might turn the trick. Aik-
man put men on the job of questioning
all the sources he had uncovered and then
went to work on the flyers. The John
Doe warrant and description of Whitey
Cummings were flashed out, then were
followed by stolen car reports on Violet
Toussaint’s olive green Pontiac.

Exhausted by his labors, Aikman went

‘to bed, confident that his flashes had

blanketed all territories the killers might
cross in their escape attempt. Any off-
cer who saw them now should recognize
them.

He was right. In a surprisingly short

Crimson Clue of the Decoy Package

time a Helena, Mont., police captain was
on the phone calling Spokane head-
quarters.

“We have that olive green Pontiac,”
the Helena officer said excitedly. “Also,
we had your John Doe murderer but he
got away. He’s a bootlegger, and we
picked him up for questioning. But he was
clean this time so we let him go. All this
happened before we received the warrant
and the stolen car report.”

Aikman was put on the line to talk with
the Helena officer. “Comb your town for
him,” Aikman said. “We have evidence
that he is our killer.”

“We already have taken the town apart.
We found that he left in a Packard sedan,
and we have given orders for the Pack-
ard to be picked up. He’s headed east.
Look, we’re sorry as can be, but your
warrant reached us just a few hours too
late. We'll do everything we can.”

“That’s okay,” Aikman said. “Can you
tell us anything about the man that we
don’t already know?”

“Well,” the Helena officer reported,
“he’s called Whitey, but his real name is
George Miller. We’ve had a lot to do with
him here, because he’s been running
whisky out of the hills somewhere nearby.
He’s about forty-two years old, and he’s
a tough egg.”

“Was there a foreigner with him? Have
you ever seen him with our John Doe
number two?”

“No. We’ve never seen that man. Miller
was alone when we got him.”

Aikman and Deputy Sheriff Lawrence
Alberts hurriedly got together and studied
files, and it developed that George Miller,
alias Whitey Cummings, had first been
arrested in Spokane back in 1908, when
he was 20 years old. He had been a shot-
gun terrorist in those days, holding up
dozens of street cars, robbing the passen-
gers and disappearing into the night. He
had served five years in Walla Walla pen-
itentiary and later served time in the
county jail at Newport, Wash., on em-
bezzlement charges. A picture of George
Miller at the age of 20 served to aid in
identifying him.

While Aikman eagerly awaited word

“of the chase after Miller in Montana, he

questioned Violet Toussaint again. The
attractive brunette insisted that she had
told all that she knew about George
Miller, alias Whitey Cummings. She said
she would not have reported her car
stolen if she had known that Miller was
using it, and was emphatic in expressing
the. opinion that Miller had not killed
John Ivester. “He wouldn’t pull anything
like that, and I don’t think you can prove
that he did,” she said. .

Police all over the Northwest were
looking for George Miller by this time,
and Deputy Alberts went to Helena to
pick up Miller’s trail.

Aikman studied samples of George
Miller’s handwriting obtained from the
hotel register, and determined that Miller
had not addressed the decoy package
himself. Therefore, the foreigner, Bill,
must have been the penman. But Bill re-
mained a figure of. mystery, a dark-
skinned man with a thick wrestler’s neck
and long white hands.

Days passed with no sign of the wanted
men. Indignation over the brutal murder
was running high in Spokane, and the
Railway Express company offered’a re-

ward of $1,000 each f
killers. Bulletins were
the nation, which now \
of winter.

Art Aikman, Deputy
cial Agent Harry Ma>
work together, coveri
were turned up in an
the identity of Bill. F
inspired by Bill’s beaut
handwriting, they be
handwork of known f
a forlorn hope, but th«

‘They found the ide
in a letter and on ru
ten by a man who h
Walla Walla and San ¢
charges under the nam
non. The official desc:
witnesses’ descriptions
friend, Bill.

Aikman and the othe
broadened this new le
non, they learned, had
checks drawn on the $
ern bank, the Dexte:
Seattle, and the Italian
cisco. They wired offic
itentiaries and in the «
one knew anything of
whereabouts. Struck
Gannon had passed al
jewelry stores, they d:
bulletin warning jewe
lookout for Gannon.
press company distribt
circulars with Gannon
from the Walla Walle
to every jewelry stc
States. They figured
Gannon became short

WHEN THE

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reported,
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‘re nearby.
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Lawrence
ind studied
rge Miller,

first been

908, when
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west were
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of George
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ry package
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ward of $1,000 each for capture of the
killers. Bulletins were showered all over
the nation, which now was in the cold grip
of winter.

Art Aikman, Deputy Alberts and Spe-
cial Agent Harry Maxwell continued to
work together, covering all angles that
were turned up in an effort to establish
the identity of Bill. Finally, on a hunch
inspired by Bill’s beautiful German script
handwriting, they began studying the
handwork of known forgers. This was
a forlorn hope, but they cashed in on it.

They found the identical handwriting
in a letter and on rubber checks writ-
ten by a man who had served time in
Walla Walla and San Quentin on forgery
charges under the name of William Gan-
non. The official description tallied with
witnesses’ descriptions of George Miller’s
friend, Bill.

Aikman and the others enthusiastically
broadened this new lead. William Gan-
non, they learned, had in 1927 passed bad
checks drawn on the Spokane and East-
ern bank, the Dexter-Horton bank of
Seattle, and the Italian bank of San Fran-
cisco. They wired officials at the two pen-
itentiaries and in the coast cities, but no
one knew anything of Gannon’s present
whereabouts. Struck by the fact that
Gannon had passed all his bad checks in
jewelry stores, they decided to get out a
bulletin warning jewelers to be on the
lookout for Gannon. The Railway Ex-
press company distributed 21,000 of these
circulars with Gannon’s picture, obtained
from the Walla Walla penitentiary files,
to every jewelry store in the United
States. They figured that the first time
Gannon became short of cash, he would

go back to his old tricks. If he did, those
21,000 flyers should click.

Meanwhile, Aikman picked up informa-
tion that William Gannon sometimes used
the name of Joe Rogrs, and that he hung
out in the underworld circuit of small
Central Washington towns. For weeks,
Aikman traveled from town to town, run-
ning down myriad false leads and aliases.
He questioned dozens of men who seemed
to know vaguely of Joe Rogrs, and raided
the Old Town section of Newport, a hang-
out of Joe Rogrs, and a place where crim-
inals had been known to hide: out for

_ months without ever being seen. In spite

of his aggressiveness, his success was nil.

Then, on April 8, 1930, a motorist ran
through a red light in downtown Detroit.
A traffic officer flagged him down and was
giving him a ticket when he discovered a
loaded gun in the motorist’s car. He took
the man to the station, and there other
officers discovered that the prisoner’s suit-
cases were full of stolen jewels and sil-
verware. The prisoner was fingerprinted,
and his prints were broadcast over the
nation. A detective captain in Miami,
Fla., “made” the suspect’s prints and
wired Spokane: “Man under arrest in De-
troit, Mich., is George Miller, named in
your murder warrant.”

Art Aikman, Lawrence, Alberts and
Harry Maxwell dropped everything else
and caught the first train for Detroit.

But George Miller, in the Detroit jail,
had been thinking things over. He had a
$5 bill and a hacksaw blade stowed in the
lapel of his coat and he intended to use
both if he could obtain a transfer from
the Detroit jail, which was too tough for
a crush-out. What Miller wanted was a

jail like the one at Bryan, O. He con-
sidered it a “sardine can,” a “tank town
. jail.” So, confessing a silverware theft
in Bryan, Miller had his wish. He was
transferred to the Bryan jail.

There he quickly made friends with a
negro prisoner who was about to be re-
leased, and asked the negro to mail a let-
ter to a woman in Chicago. The $5 bill
turned the trick, and Miller had every
confidence in his friends outside. He had
been working with the Al Capone and
Johnny Burke gangs, and counted on his
big-time pals to “spring” him. He waited
confidently. —.

The arrival of the three Spokane de-
tectives was quite a surprise to George
Miller but he kept up a front. “I heard
you fellows were looking for me,” he said
blandly, “and,I sure wondered why. I
didn’t have nothing to do with that Ex-
press company thing.”

He was willing to talk freely about
everything he knew, as long as it did not
concern the murder of John Ivester. Aik-
man and Alberts slowly and decisively
built their case against him, trying for a
confession, but they could not quite un-
derstand Miller’s attitude. He seemed
carefree, almost happy.

“I don’t mind talking,” he assured
them, grinning. “I’ll be out of here ina
few days.”

Night came and ariot call bell screamed,
calling all sheriff’s deputies away from
the building to a downtown bank. Aikman
and Alberts and a lone jailer were left in
the courthouse building in the quiet of the
night.

Aikman said, “I don’t like this.”

The two men reached a sudden decision.

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71

ww

iave been able to find her new home As Moock finished, the officers sat
»y instinct.” looking at him, digesting his story.

Brower broke in: ‘Where were you. Moock was not disturbed.
when the car stopped you?” , Brower:-said: “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, exactly.. It was on “You don’t know what?” Moock
he road somewhere near the Idaho said. “I have told you everything.”
ine.” Brower said: “I don’t know about

“What happened then?” Brower your story. It is lousy—”

ted, ki another notation of ;
Mloock’s wisi, ei 5 ALMLY, Moock answered, “But
it’s true.” .

“Mrs. Clarke got out of the car and j
“I'm afraid it is,’ Brower agreed.

Murphy kissed her. He said they |

vaited until it got late and figured “It is so lousy it would have to be true.
we hadn’t been able to find the place. Nobody who was going to plan a mur-
30 they came out to look for us. There. der would ever think up such a lousy
vas a man with him and he intro-_ story. I think you have been the dupe
luced him. The fellow’s name was of a darn clever ‘Bluebeard.’”

3rown. Murphy wanted me to go back “A what?” -

0 his home, but I said it was already “Bluebeard —a marriage murderer.
ate and I wanted to get back to my ‘There have been all kinds of them.
1ome. ' ; They use those marriage bureaus to

“He had a bottle of whisky and suck in wealthy widows—or sometimes
wanted me to drink a toast to him and it is women who use them to get lonely,
ris new bride. I refused. I told him wealthy old men. Like Belle Gunnes,
chat he had promised to give up drink-
ng. He kept insisting. I told him
irink was evil. |

“Mrs. Clarke finally prevailed upon
ne to have just one drink. She said
she felt the same way I did about
strong liquor, but that on such an oc-
rasion we could. all drink a toast to
heir new happiness.

“Murphy had a couple of glasses.
ie poured me a drink. We all toasted
he bride and groom and they left.

“Suddenly I became very sleepy. I
souldn’t even see the road. I went to
‘leep with my head on the steering-
wheel. I must have slept about two
wx three hours. I figured it was the
whisky. Then I drove home. I had a
errible headache... - .

“This morning I took Tyree’s car
»ack to him and went to church.”

Sheriff Floyd Brower, left, and
Deputy Glenn McEwen found the
incriminating papers and money
they are holding in a flower garden

who must have killed about a dozen

hoes ) ie” tnt k Murphy .
‘ou don’ n Pan

“’m sure of it. You said this Mrs.
Clarke’ had two thousand dollars,
didn’t you?” ‘

“She must have had all of that.
Maybe more.” ,

“Where did she keep it?” ?

“In the back of a picture-frame.”

“How did you know?” Brower shot
at him quickly, and waited like a cat
to pounce on the answer. 4

“She told me,” Moock answered sim-
ply. “She had it in back of a frame
with Murphy’s picture in it. She said
she was going to give it to him so he
could get his inheritance. She said
it was her bank.”

“This guy Murphy must have been
pretty slick,” Brower said.
does he look like?” F

Moock said that Murphy was about
five-feet-eleven. He had dark hair

“What

Mrs. Catherine Clarke left the Moock home, above,
to meet her bridegroom, but met a killer instead

The last stage of the “wedding” journey was made
In this automobile Archie Moock had borrowed —

and was about 40 years old. He had.a
slight scar on the side of his left cheek.

“T’ll put his description on the wire
to all of the police agencies in the
West,” Brower said to McEwen and
Collins. “He’s got a head start on us
but we may be able to catch up with
him. That scar should make it easier.”

It was getting late. Moock asked if
he could go home.

“Not tonight,” -Brower said. “We
will have to hold you.” ;

“What for?” :

“We’ve only got your word that
there was a James Murphy.”

“Ask my wife,” Moock cried. “He
lived with us. I don’t see how you
can hold me. I didn’t do anything.
I didn’t kill Mrs, Clarke.”

“I didn’t say you killed her. I’ve
got a legal right to hold you as a mate-
rial witness. I’m going to hold you
and Tyree until I get these stories all
straightened out. I don’t want any-
body comparing notes until we’ve got
everything in order.”

With that, Moock was taken to a cell
in the opposite end of the tank from
where Tyree was being held. Brower
instructed the guard to see that Tyree
and Moock did not talk to each other.

E WENT back to talk to Collins
and McEwen, who were in his office.
“What do you make of it, fellows?”
Collins said: “Looks like this guy
Murphy bumped off the Clarke woman
for her money.”

“He must be a smart one,” McEwen
declared. “The way he laid the plans
to put poor Moock in the middle and
slide out himself. I think we’d better
check around the country. He may
have pulled other jobs like this. It
looks like too smooth a job for the first
one. He had all the angles worked out
to a T.”

“What do you think, Brower?” Col-
lins asked. z ;

“I don’t know. It’s the smoothest
murder case we’ve ever had in these
parts. As soon as we can get some
wires out on it to the other police de-
partments, I think we ought to go
down to Moock’s house and talk to his
wife to check what he told us.”

With the wires off, inquiring if a
similar case was on record anywhere,
the trio drove to Moock’s house. Mrs.
Tina Moock was upset when the offi-
cers arrived. .

“Where’s my husband?” she cried.

Brower explained what’ had hap-
pened and why Moock was being held.

“I don’t see why you put him in
jail,” she cried angrily. “It’s that
James Murphy you should arrest. I
always knew he wasn’t any good.

Archie did everything for him, and

this is what happens.”
“We'd like to come in and talk to
(Continued on Page 37)


of a woman. Looks like some-

body chopped open her head
ith an ax!” .
Sheriff Floyd Brower came upright
. his chair with a start. His hand
aconsciously tightened its grip on the
aone. He leaned forward. :
“Where you at?” he cried, reaching
wa report pad on the cluttered desk.
“Up by the Foothills Farm.”
Brower wrote down the location. It
as a landmark in the district and
10own to him. At the same time, he
led in the date on the sheet as Sep-
mber 23, 1928. .
“Who’s calling?”
“This is Grover Tyree. I was up
sre picking’ prunes with Frank
‘inklebeck and my little boy. The
ydy’s in a dry creek by the side of
ie road.”
“Looks like murder, huh?”
“Sure does. Somebody whacked her
. the head with an ax, I guess.”
“Stay right there and keep an eye
it for us. We'll be right out.”
Bouncing out of his chair—for mur-
2r was a most unusual occurrence
wr the city of Spokane, Washington—
rower bellowed:
“Glenn! Glenn, come here!”
Chief Deputy Glenn McEwen stuck
is head in the private office.

4

tf S HERIFF! I just found the body

‘Dear Diary:
He Says He
Me-

“What’s up?”

“Murder! Guy just phoned. Said a
woman got her head split open with
an ax...”

“Murder, huh?” McEwen whistled.

“You get Coroner Jack Collins. I’ll
meet you in front with the car. We’d
better get going. It’s away up at the
Foothills Farm.”

McEwen turned on his heel and
headed aeross the street for Collins.

Within a few moments the trio was
roaring out of town in a police car.

With Brower at the wheel giving
the high-powered machine’ every
ounce of “soup” it could take, it was
nearly an hour before they came
streaking up the road, leaving a cloud
of dust behind them over the flat, dry
country.

Tyree and Winklebeck, with the
small boy, were waiting beside an old
Ford coupe to signal them to stop.

“Where’s the body?” Brower de-
manded, piling out of the police car.

“Down. the bank here.”

Tyree led the way through the tall,
dusty weeds to a ditch at the bottom.
A woman, blood matting her curly
auburn hair, lay face up in the dry
gulch. ,

Tyree said: “Didn’t move her any.
Could see she was dead, so I left her
just like she was.”

pee 4 See

ia sith " sino
Sa sick ea

Loves

Mrs. Catherine Clarke: Her
mail-order romance ended in
the West when she lost her
money and her life. Note the
strands of her hair investigators
found on the fatal weapon, above

By Jack Heise

Special Investigator for”
ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES

Coroner Collins knelt beside the un-
moving form. “Dead, all right. Head’s
split wide open.”

He lifted one arm. Flexed the wrist
. . + moved the fingers...

“Couldn’t have happened very long
ago.”

“How long?”

“Last night...
ma we

“T’ll be darned,’ Brower grunted.
“I wonder who killed her and why.”

early this morning,

HE officers looked over the scene.

A trail of blood led up the bank. A
larger pool was in the dust by the side
of the road. ‘“

“Rolled down the bank from the
road,” Brower pointed out, noting the
crushed weeds in the path of the body.

Making certain they had overlooked
nothing which might prove a clew,
the officers lifted the woman out of
the shallow, dry creek.

She was well dressed and looked to
be about 35 years old. Every indica-
tion pointed to refinement and wealth.
The clothes were of a fine texture.

Acetate DerecrtJ&. STORIES
Apr (F¢¢2

Brower turned to Tyree.

“How did you happen to find her?”

“Well, I come out here picking
prunes quite often. The old ranch is
abandoned and nobody cares if we get
the fruit. We'd finished and my little
boy wanted a drink. I thought maybe
there might be some water in the
creek.” i

“You mean you came down here to
look for a drink for the boy?” Brower
queried.

Tyree nodded.

“All of the creeks dry up in the
Summer and Fall.”

“I know. But I thought there might
be some water. The kid had been out
here all day and was thirsty. Soon as
I saw the body, I called to Winklebeck
and he came down and took a look.
We drove down to a phone and called
you. Then we came back and waited
until you got here.”

“Darn lucky you found her,” Brower
said. “With nobody using this road
all Winter, we’d never have been able
to tell who she was by next Spring.”

McEwen broke in: “That must have


Who Murdered This Mail-Order Boston Bride Near Spo-
kane, Washington? Why? Where Was the Bridegroom?

been the killer’s idea in just dumping
her down here instead of trying to
bury her. After a Winter in the
open, with the wolves and all, there
would have been only a skeleton.”

The officers went groping through
the long grass looking for anything
that might throw some light on the
mysterious murder.

“Hey!”

McEwen stooped over. He straight-
ened up, holding a small ax in his
hand. :

7 “Looks like this was what killed

er!” j

Brower and Collins dashed to him
to examine it.

~

“No doubt of it,” Brower declared.
‘Look at the blood on it...” He
touched his finger to it lightly. “It’s
still fresh—and there’s some hairs.”

“Must have thrown it down here
from the road,” Collins pointed out.

It was out in the weeds from the
road about as far as a man could
throw a small hatchet.

Tyree and Winklebeck came up to
take a look at the weapon.

A gurgling, choking cry rose in the
throat of Tyree.

“What’s the matter?”

“That—that—that’s my ax!”

“What?” The voices of the officers
gasped in unison.

took the small ax and looked
at it closely.

He nodded. “I’m sure of it. I put
that handle in myself.”

Brower’s eyes narrowed as he looked
at the white-faced Tyree.

“How did it get. here?”

“I don’t know. It was in my car.”

There was a genuine look of aston-
ishment on the face of Tyree as he
kept turning the ax over and over in
his hand.

‘Do you-know that woman?”

Brower pointed to the sprawled fig-

‘ure of the woman covered with blood
beside them.

Tyree shook his head negatively.

“I never saw her before, honest. I
know this sounds—well—I don’t know
what—except this is my ax and I didn’t
kill her.”

There was a moment’s silence.as the
officers looked at each othéf:and Ty-
ree, The revelation that Tyree owned
the ax which so evidently was used

to murder the woman had thrown
them into a startling dilemma.

Brower recovered first.

“You said you came out here often.
When were you out here the last
time?”

“A week ago. I came out with some
friends. I’ll tell you their names and
you can check .. .”

Collins interrupted; “A week ago
won’t help. The woman was killed
not later than last night, and maybe
not until early this morning.”

‘What time did you get out here
today?”

“Around nine o’clock. Maybe a little
earlier.” : ;

Winklebeck broke in: “That’s right.
We've been together in the orchard.
He couldn’t have...” )

Brower walked up the bank to where
the boy was sitting on the running-
board of the old car.

“What time did you come out here
this morning, Sonny?”

“Right after breakfast.”

“Who came with you?”

“My dad and Mr. Winklebeck.”

“Did you see a woman with kind of
reddish hair around here today?”

“I didn’t see any woman any time
today out here.”

“Did you get thirsty this afternoon?”

“Yeah. Dad went down to get me
a drink in the creek when he found
the woman.”

Brower looked closely at the boy,
trying to determine whether the an-
swers had been natural explanations
or the result of coaching.

Brower walked back to where the
group was standing around Tyree.

He said: “I don’t know how you’re

Archie Moock: He told officers the bridegroom slipped him a
Mickey Finn not far from the spot, indicated by the investigators
below, where the body of Mrs: Catherine Clarke was discovered

te

; ik
00 OP meme aled TY

going to explain it, Tyree, but the
fact remains that it is your ax and it
was used to kill the woman.”

Tyree squirmed. “I don’t, either,”
he said, helplessly. “But, Hell, Sheriff,
I wouldn’t of told you that was my ax
3 I’d used it to kill somebody, would

9”

Brower disregarded the question.

“Where were you last night?” he
asked.

“Home. I was home’all night. My
wife can verify that. Besides, I
couldn’t have gone any place. Archie
Moock had my car.”

“Archie Moock had your car! Who’s
Archie Moock?” :

Tyree stopped short, realizing what
his words meant. He -said: “He’s a
friend of mine, but he wouldn’t do a
thing like this. You’ve got to know
him to understand. He’s married and
got five kids. He’s very religious—”

“I think we’d better talx to this
Moock,” Brower declared.

The officers wrapped the woman’s
body in a blanket and put it in the
back of the police car.

“You come with us,” Brower told
Tyree. “Glenn will drive your car in.”

“But—"* ;

Brower stopped the protest. “We’ll
have to hold you. We’ve only got your
word that Moock borrowed your car.
What time did he bring it back?”

“Early this morning. He gave me
five dollars for using it.” .

“What did he want with it?”

“He didn’t say.”

At Headquarters Tyree was held as
a material witness. McEwen came boil-
ing in with the old Ford a little later.
Brower warned Winklebeck to keep
quiet about what he had seen and
heard and released him.

Brower and McEwen helped Collins
take the body to the morgue. They re-
turned and took Tyree’s boy home.
Brower talked to ‘Mrs. Tyree. She
au all of the things Tyree had
said.

EXT, they went to the home of Ar-

chie Moock out on Hartson Avenue.
Moock wasn’t there but his wife was.
She said her husband was at church
but would come home soon.

“Where was your husband last
night?” Brower questioned.

“He took a friend out.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Catherine Clarke. She’s been
staying with us. She’s going to be
married, and Mr. Moock drove her
over to the home of the man she’s go-
ing to marry.” ‘aay

“This Mrs, Clarke—is she about
thirty-five with reddish-brown hair?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

The killer tore a “lover’s” picture
from this frame and removed Mrs.
Catherine Clarke’s small fortune


“A fellow named Tyree said your
husband borrowed his car and we were
just checking up.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Moock declared.
‘TY remember that my husband said he
was going to get Mr. Tyree’s car. It
is an old Ford touring car. We haven’t
a car of our own.”

“When did your husband get home?”

“It was late. He had trouble finding
the place. He took the car back early
this morning.”

Brower thanked her for the infor-
mation and with McEwen walked down
the street to the church. They: met
Moock as he was coming out. i

“We'd like to talk to you,” Brower
told him, flashing his badge.

“About what?” -

“Mrs. Catherine Clarke.”

“She’s gone,” Moock said. “I took
her to Jim Murphy last night. I guess
they got married today.” :

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with us.” Brower led Moock
down to the Coroner’s office. Collins
had the body laid out. He had washed
the blood out of the hair and off the
face. Moock looked at it.

“It’s Mrs. Clarke,” he said. “What
happened?”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“She was murdered!”

“Murdered?—Who did it?”

“That’s what we would like to knaw.
You’d better come across the street to
our office and tell us what happened
last night.”

Moock, Collins; McEwen and Brower
walked over to the Sheriff’s office.

When they were seated, Brower said:
“Go ahead and give us the dope. We
know you .borrowed Tyree’s car and
left here about six o’clock last night
with Mrs. Clarke. We found her body

26_

Could Mrs. Catherine Clarke
know, when she answered the
advertisement at the right
and filled out the above ap-
plication, that her romance
would have a fatal ending?

at four o’clock this afternoon near the
Foothills Farm.”

Moock shook his head slowly from
side to side, biting his lower lip. “I
can’t believe it,” he murmured. Th
“Where do you want me to start?”

“Start at the beginning. It may be
easier that way. Who is this Mrs.
Clarke and how come she was staying
with you?”

“I work at the Hedlund Mills,”
Moock said. “I met a fellow there
named James Murphy. He was kind

of a rounder, but I worked on him

and got him to be a good God-fearing
man. He lived with us for a while.”
“What’s that got to do with Mrs.
Clarke?” ;
“I’m coming to that.”
“Go ahead,” Brower said. ;
“Murphy drank alot, but when I
got him to give it up, he said he could

probably keep on the straight and nar- ©

row path if he had a good woman.to
help him. I didn’t know any single
women, so he wrote to one of those
marriage places that advertise.”

't1S THAT where Mrs. Clarke came
from?” ‘

“Yes. He saw an ad in the maga-
zine they send out with all the names
in it. She lived in Boston. She said
she wanted to come out West and that
she had two thousand dollars in cash.”

“Are you sure Murphy didn’t want
just the two thousand?”

. “No. It helped, though, because
Murphy was going to inherit some
money of his own, but there was some
mix-up where he had to have so much
cash first. But he really asked her to
come out and marry him because she
was a. good woman and would make
him a good wife. I read some of her
letters to him and. saw the picture she
sent him. I could tell she was a good

God-fearing woman and just the kind

- of a mate Murphy needed.”

Brower looked around the room to
see how the other officers were takin
the story. “Go ahead,” he promp

“Well, Murphy wanted her to come
out right away but she had an oriental
rug business in Boston she had to sell
first. They did quite a bit of writing
back and forth. The letters from her
came to my house for Murphy.” *

“Where did Murphy go?”

“When he learned that Mrs. Clarke

“was coming, he went to his father’s

place over in Idaho. It is just across
the line. He said he was going to fix
up about his inheritance. He said he
had a house there and he wanted
fix it up for his bride.” -
“Where was it?”
“He didn’t say exactly. At least, I

_couldn’t find it—I’ll come to that later.

“Mrs. Clarke arrived here last Fri-
day morning. She had a letter from
Murphy telling her to stay at our place
until Sunday and that I would drive

her over to him. He said he would
have come for her, but he’d been sick.
“{ didn’t have a car but I borrowed
Tyree’s and promised to pay him five
dollars. When I got through work at
the mill Saturday, I came home and
right after dinner Mrs. Clarke and I
started to drive to Murphy’s place. The
instructions were in the letter Mrs.
Clarke had. He said it would be easy
to find, that it was a sixteen-room
house—but we couldn’t find it.”

Mocc® told his story without any
hesitation. The officers listened in-
tently, with Brower taking notes on
the pertinent facts.

“We searched until about eleven
o’clock. I was ready to give up and
come home. We had turned around
and headed back on the highway when
a car drove alongside of us. Murphy
was in it.

“T told him we hadn’t been able to
find the place and he laughed. He
said he thought his future wife would


MOSELEY, L. E., black, hanged Washington (King County) 2-19-1926

y - MOSELEY, L. E.
Hanged, Washington State Prison (King Co.), 2-19-1926.

ca

See large card.
Xk 21 PACIFIC 29)

SEATTLE POS! INTELLIGENCER Dec. 8, 1925.

MOSELEY, L. E.

Moseley, a )3-year-old black man, was a porter/waiter in a Seattle,
Wash., restaurant, On the night of July 4, 192), he was attending

a celebration at kee a social club for black waiters when he started
a disturbance, Seattle Policeman A. J, Comer was summoned and when
he attempted to eject Moseley from the club, Moseley shot and killed
him, He fled to Tacoma where he was captured two days later and
returned to Seattle where he was tried, convicted and sentenced to
die. His case was appealed to the Washington Supreme Court and,
while it was pending, some other prisoners broke out of the King Co,
Jail, They offered to take Moseley with him, but he refused saying:
"Go 'way, big boy, I don't need yo! help." The Court subsequently
affirmed his conviction and he was hanged at the Washington State
Prison on February 19, 1926,

i 241 PACIFIC 29)
SEATTLE POS! INTELLISENCER, Seattle, Washington, December 8, 1925

The attached, sent by Van Raalte, is nm sourced,

ae . ea a a es
Po4-1916 Ptl. Robert Reed Wiley, age 260 =l=1ocd) oF dept Since la=2u-

1913, gunfight with watchamn for bootleggers, Sergeant also Killed,
offender killed, arrest made, charges dropped.

poe. 9-24-1919, Ptl Edwin Wilson, disturbance/uuw, traffic/motoreycle accident
Fo :

1-14-1921 Pt) VYoluey Gewis Svevens, see 46(9-3-1874) on dept since 5-8-07,
suspicious persons, handguns, arrest made, offenders committed prior
crimes unknown to officers (burglaries)& (auto theft), 1 offender killed
3 others convicted, sentenced to life in the pen.

‘ 12451621 tl. William Theedcre Angles ,age..¢/ (6-22-1894) on dept since
” 12-17-20, (1 mo 4 days), suspicious persons, assassinated, offenders HG
had committed prior crime “(bank robbery) also killed another patrolman
x and detective at the same time. arrest, conviction, hung on 4-1-1921.

7-24-1027 Pt) Neil ©. McMillan, eee 30(1-28-1891) on dept since 1-4-21 (had
5 years prior service Vancouver BC) circumstances same as Angle. HG

4-21-1921 Det James J. O'Brien, age 36(3-24-1884) on dept since 1-7/-
investigating murder of other two officers, handgun.

3-17-1922 Ptl Charles Omer Legate, age 50 (9-11-1872) on dept since 10-1-06,
assassinated, own gun, no arrest, allegedly killed by other police. Nore
eooy Of Capt Eracstield’s yeport is 1m spedial file.

S215<(925 tl Arthur Prighton Lue ostord, age 43(9-18-1880) on dept since
2-13-19, suspicious persons, handgun, bad search, offender suicide.

7-4 -70-4. =F Amos Jay Comer, age 45( 2-22-1879) on dept since 1-i-1gic
& disturbance bad search, revolver, arrested, convicted, hung.

9-25-1924 Ptl Robert L. Litsey, age 58 (10-7-1866) on dept since 12-16-02
had been temp off since 1897, Suspicious persons, handgun, arrest,
convicted; vrisen, had long -record.

5-10-1928 Ptl Fred Ivey age 49 (3-13-1879) on dept since 7-22-1", robbery,
Wandeun, do. aprest.

40D 9-4-1928  Ptl Lyle F. Tracy, age 31(9-19-1897) on dept since 9-14-25,
ACC. revolver fell from holster, discharged, killing him.

9-14-1928 Ptl Emory Ray Sherard, age 43. (12-4-1885) on dept since 11-2-26
robbery, handgun(.38), arrest

9-12-1930 Ftl Gene W. Perry, age 44, (8-14-1886) on dept since 1-10-22
robbery, rifle, no arrest

9-27-1930 Ptl Walter G. Cottle, age 41(3-22-1889) on depat since 1-5-21
i suspicious person, bad search, handgun, no arrest.
&
8-1-1931 Ptl Harry Eugene Williams, age 44 (5-3-1897) on dept since 9-1-2e

‘ off duty domestic handgun prior crime arrest

LOD 9-9-1932 Ptl Ralph Herbert Ahner, age 35 (8-8-1897) on dept since 10-14-39
‘o- motorcycle accident

LOD 12-31-1932 Ptl Ellsworth W. Cordes age 35 (8-20-1897) on dept since 3-1-2¢
REF ACC motoreycle accident

=

a

MOSELEY, L. E., black, hanged WASP (King) February 19, 1926

(in article)

When Dan M'Lennan looked at a crook, or, his police picture, the im-
pression was recorded, classified and filed in his remarkably retentive
memory for future use.

By:Frank Wait Hanford.

HE desk clerk of a Chicago hotel twice: “A woman in 212--murde?
laid down his paper and looked Hurriedly pushing the almost fainting
up wearily. It was a nasty morn woman aside, the clerk sped dow:

ing, even for mid-November. Outside hall. The door of
the rain had changed to sleet, and drove — ajar by the frightene:
against the windows in gusts, whipped the threshold, came to

was Oo
1 He

Crosse

a sudden

by a gale off the lake. Between the bed and the dresser
He glanced at the clock. Ten o’clock sprawled on the floor. was the b

and only one registration. Veople an elderly woman. apparently

weren't traveling much this kind of A ery of horror rose to his lips

weather. He reached for the register. wasn’t the sight of death that sh

then paused as a piercing shriek sounded = him—-he had seen that before—hu
from the floor above. way that the brutal attack had occ

Dropping the register he dashed into The whole top of her head had
the lobby and up the stairs. At the top beaten to a pulp-—titerally caved
he almost collided with the chamber the blow of some blunt instrument
maid, hurrying down. She was grasp- For a moment he stood there
ing the bannister as if for support, her = overcome by the sight, then hurried out

face white and drawn and her eyes to the phone and summoned police

almost starting from her head in her a few minutes officers arrived on the

terror. scene, discovered that there still was
“What's wrong? What's the mat- — spark of life in the battered body. The
ter?” he cried. For a moment she woman was rushed to a hospital wher:
couldn't answer. She gulped once or she died shortly
STAR YTI (; [Dh fe

ICT ett

pr aeeireieiattateateniatia

18 HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

444444

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FIFTY MILLION
DOLLARS

| dollar that you give now to
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How this War Fund is Used

SERVICE TO THE ARMED
FORCES .... . « « $25,000,000

Provides for the care of the Army
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and their families. @ Provides
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donors and medical technologists
for Army and Navy needs. e Pro-
vides millions of surgical dress-
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DISASTER AND CIVILIAN
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Supplies emergency needs for
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e Assists stricken families in
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CIVILIAN DEFENSE SERVICES $ 5,000,000

Trains volunteers for home nurs-
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Gives assistance and service to
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TOTAL ¢ ¢ © $50,000,000

THE AMERICAN RED CROSS
$50,000,000 WAR FUND

Note to Red Cross Canvassers:

Use this material to better inform contributors how
their donations are being expended.

(This space has been donated by the publisher.)

HEADQUARTERS

DETECTIVE

the police right on him in a hurry.”

“Stealing her dough isn’t as tough
a rap as murder. No, there’s another
reason ... Say!”

“What?”

“We've forgotten about something
else. Remember, she was killed with
Tyree’s hatchet. How did Murphy
get Tyree’s hatchet?”

“Stole it.”

Brower shook his head. “That’s
stretching coincidence too far. If he
planned the crime as perfectly as it
was planned, he’d have his weapon
ready. I think Tyree’s hatchet is the
answer to our whole case.”

“T don’t follow you,’ McEwan ad-
mitted.

“T’ve got a hunch.”

“About what?”

“About who our mysterious friend
Mr. Murphy is. We both agreed
Murphy was a phoney name. I think
maybe I know who Murphy is. Let’s
go.”

“Where? To Tyree’s?”

“Not yet. We’re going to see Mrs.

Moock first.”

tioned Mrs. Moock. He told her,
“IT want you to tell me everything
your husband did after he returned
from taking Mrs. Clarke to Cour
d’Alene on Saturday night.”
‘, — he came home, he went to

e acd

“And the next morning?”

“He got up early. He took Mr.
Tyree’s car back to him.”

“How long did he stay?”

“Only a few minutes.”

“And then?” .

“He came home and had breakfast.
After breakfast, he went out in the
garden and planted some tulips. When
he finished in the garden, he came in
and dressed for church. And...”

“Where abouts did he plant the
tulips?”

Mrs. Moock led him to the back
door and pointed out the tulip bed.

Brower went outside. He found
a spade and began to dig in the tulip
bed.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Moock
cried.

“I want to seg the kind of bulbs
your husband planted.”

Within a few minutes, Brower stood
up. In his hand was a sealed can. He
tore the top from it.

Inside were a number of letters ad-
dressed to James Murphy. In the
bottom of the can were $1,490 in new

A‘ the Moock home, Brower ques-

HEADQUARTERS

DETECTIVE

body had been fired from a .32 Smith
& Wesson revolver.
“Say, Chester Arkuszewski used to

A DOLLAR FOR A DATE

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 31

bills.

“It looks like we found Mr.
Murphy,” Brower cried triumphantly.
If we hurry we can get Moock at the
mill.”

On the way to the mill, McEwan
asked: “How did you guess it was
Moock? I thought it might be Tyree
and Moock was covering for him, or
they were working together.”

Brower said: “The hatchet decided
me. I thought of Tyree, too, but knew
if he had been in on it, he would never
have admitted out at the scene that
it was his ax. Moock must have taken
it when he borrowed Tyree’s car.

“Moock answered Mrs. Clark’s ad
in the magazine and used Murphy's
name. When Murphy moved, he saw
the time was ripe to get her out here
and after he killed her, he could
blame it all on Murphy if anything
went wrong.”

“But when we left the office, how
did you know...”

“That Murphy buried the money in
the tulip bed? Frankly, I didn’t know.
But I figured he would have to get
rid of it some place. He didn’t have
much time. We questioned him the
following afternoon. When Mrs.
Moock mentioned the tulip bed, it was
a cinch.”

“Do you think his wife was in on
it?”

“Not a chance. She's a good woman.
He had her fooled—like he nearly had
us fooled with that talk about Murphy.
You see, he had to build it up good
so he could bring her to his home
without his wife suspecting.”

Placed under arrest, Moock vigor-
ously denied he had used the name
of Murphy to lure Mrs. Clarke to her
death or that he killed her.

A charge of first degree murder was
placed against Moock. Throughout his
trial, he continued to insist that James
Murphy was the guilty person and
he was only a dupe. The jury thought
differently. They brought back a ver-
dict of guilty with a mandatory death
sentence. '

Moock walked up the thirteen steps
to the noose in the prison yard at
Walla Walla on September 12, 1929.
As he stood on the scaffold, he
screamed:

“Tm innocent. Find James Mur-
phy, he’s your murderer.”

The trap sprung. Moock plunged to
his death at the end of the rope. Mrs.
Clarke paid a dollar for her date with
death. Moock paid with his life for
helping her keep the date.

THE BLOODY CLUE

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 37

carry a .38 revolver, didn’t he?" Stay-
ton asked, as he and the chief returned
to the scene of the crime.

i
>

In Fox park the
who said he had see
along the south sh

“Are you sure it
him’ practicing?”

“Y-yes, sir.’ Th
his head. “He we
He'd even fire into
show off—"

Baumgartner ¢
arm: “Those mark
willow tree! We t
stick made 'em.”

The officers rac
willow tree on the
lake. Frantically,

Stayton yelled—i
a dirty piece of |
they kept digging
covered three bulle

“Have the Chica;
compare these wit)
Baumgartner orde)

Baumgartner, ac
Bernoske, started «
niuk, who had bee
zewsk1i brothers at
the night of the
radio came to life:

“Calling all cars. '
to Kosciusko Street
shooting. The victi
niuk. Calling all cai

Baumgartner’s_ f
accelerator.

When he leapec
car, he saw John fF
out on the sidewa
home.

The chief and do
boy. They saw a
where a bullet had «

K
“White

The pk
in New Yor
mix in a ce

Told |
worked his
get first-ha
a smashin;

prisoners !

Be sur

tember

ii

On sai


DOE,& MEANS

Lehane fe Zo IW Sfazhroa/

OCB GOR AGE RESIO CE “%

CRIME

MOTIVE

SYNOPSIS

Cotgse of bd ec Miaore PEER o Thanks

TRIA
s
: ft Cer bte_ce
APPEALS
LAST worRoSsS

ef ee ee

EXECUTION

ee
it:
UP (/5* ZF 6


a)

ta
i
y

Flow SENATOR Lewis /epr a

Fe: SOME YEARS DURING THE NINETIES visitors in

Condemned Slayer
Alive for Ten Years’

A Little-Known Chapter in the Life

the frontier city of Seattle were much puzzled by

a short, chalk-written wager posted on the board of Con-
sidines’ Bar. It read, “Two to one on Colonel Lewis.”
In election years and out, it was there. It had no ref-
erence to things political; neither did it refer to race
horse or prize fighter. The question was whether or not

of a Famous Member of Congress

by Hollis B. Fultz

a man should be hung in the Seattle court house.

Now, when Con-

gress is in session, you
will find the Colonel
Lewis referred to,
there. Years older, to
be sure, but appearing
much the same as in
those days when his
principal claim to
fame was a pair of
spats in an otherwise
spatless town, a high-
ly colored vest, and a
luxuriant growth of
pink whiskers. The
girls dubbed him
“Dude.”
Today he is the
Honorable James
Hamilton Lewis,
senior Senator from
the state of Illinois;
then, he was a young
lawyet, with services
much sought in a ri-
bald city where only
forceful men were in

demand. He had a
reputation for tenacity unequalled
by any other member of the
Northwest bar, and that is prob-
ably why friends of the man con-
victed of the murder of Willie
Mason selected him to make the
fight against the building of a gal-
lows.

It began on an evening of No-
vember in 1891 when Willie Ma-
son and four others were eating

* 64

CHARLES NORDSTROM “=

Convicted on circumstantial

evidence, he never admitted

his guilt. They had to carry
him to the gallows.

e
SEATTLE COURTHOUSE

Nordstrom was imprisoned
on the first floor. His fight
for life was made in the
second-floor courtroom, and
he was hung in the attic.

. f
t
J
.

SURGE OT Ss Ag eta See

REF

ASR:


_

(P 1, Left-han
NICULUS, Josée, Filipino, hanged *ashington' (itsap) “or ABEAL PAT,
FROM: BREMERTON SEARCHLIGHT Saturday, January 2, 1909 Vol. 6, NO 31

FIENDISH MURDER -

Enraged Filipino Commits Horrible Crime.
Attempts to Murder Whole Family

Two Children Shot, One Being Instantly Killed-The Slayer's Vengenace On the Children'sFathe-

Tuesday evening at about 6:15 o'clock a terrible murder was committed at Port Baakely,
the murderer being Jose Nicolos, a Filipino, and his victim being the four-year-old son of
Jose Santos, a fehklow countryman. Nicolos also shot and badly wounded the infant daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Santos, and shot and badly wounded George A. Brown, a workman at the
Port Blakely mill. Nicolos made his escape. Deputy Sheriff Murray and James Carroll
organized a psse of ten armed men and began a search for the murderer.

The murder is the culmination of a quarrell between Santos and Nicolos, which occurred
last Saturday. Nicolos until recently was an employe at the Port Blakely mill and lived
with the Santos family. On Saturday the men quarreled and Santos ordered Nicolos from his
premises. The circumstances which precipitated the quarrel are not known, but hgs being

ordered from the place so enraged Nicolos that he swore vengeance and he had been heard
to make threats against Santos, but little attention was paid to the man's threats as he

had not acted at the time on his declaration against the life of Santos.

Tuesday evening Nicolos secreted himself in a part of the saw mill, undoubtedly to
lay in wait for Santos, expecting him to pass that point on his way home. Santos did
not come. George A. Brown and his wife passed and Nicilos asked Brown what time it was.
Brown looked at his watch and then replied that it was 6:15 o'clock. He then passed on
with his wife. They had gone but a short distance when Nichols drew a revolver and shot
Brown in the back. As he fell the Filipino rushed by and on in the direction of the
Santos home. He no doubt had waited and finally came to the conclusion that his intended
victim had passed and reached his home. Being no longer able to restrain his rage he
became desperate and his muttderous career began. He ran to the Santos home, leaped
through a window, blew out the lights and began firing a revolver at random. The little
boy was shot dead with a bullet wound through his kidney; the little girl was shot in
the neck and may die.

The father arrived at the home at the time the fusillade was going on inside. He
correctly surmized what the trouble was, and being unarmed, knew that it would be unsalfe
for him to enter. He ran and gave the alarm and soon a number of people were on the
scene. Nicolos was gone. The boy lay dead on the floor, the little girl was found
terribly wounded and the mother in a serious condition through grief and fright.

‘Mr. Brown was taken to a hospital in Seattle for treatment. He had no part
whatever in the trouble between Santos and Nicolos, and no reason can be given why Nicolos
should shoot him, except that in his rage against Santos he could not control himself,

Nicolos is about 20 years old, unmarried. Santos is 35 years old.

Mr. and Mrs. Santos are heart broken over the loss of their son and have the heartfelt
Sympathy of the entire community in their bereavement.

Copied from the files in the KITSAP COUNTY HISTORICAL MUSEUM


-T- have always: been a law abiding citizen. I ‘hope. .to meet you over.
‘there ; goodbye.!' The xev. Suzzell then made an “eloquent orayer.

afally.-and his necis was-not broken. “The body . helt. roteted a faw
twitched spasmodically; the neck grew: purple, and that was aly... eur

wey nae wetnk
At, 11:15 the body was cut down and vlacedin : the coffin.) aes oe
by the sheriff as no friend or relative apveared to claim ite this patt.

intese excitement Over 1,000 people were present.

Q : ‘
oe way es ¢
Sete 74 . .
‘

squarely on the trap. on Gecendi ne: acd Sihod silent as a statue. His geoy

hat was on and his long hair, carefully brushed, showed beneath ite Pea ie
dis face and form were visibly thin from confinement. He wore hia 0.2.3.

jJail*clothes. Presently a chair was brought out and he sat down. On oe

‘the scaffold, besive the sneriff and his deputy, Ambrose cna npaeie stood

s! the Sheriffs of sing, onohomish, Whitman and Nez Ferce. counti

res

sveakx. with a ae tread he sdvanced to the front ‘of the vlatform

|
"Suddenly: Sherif Se) dwin announced that the condemned man would
and in his broken anglish tremulously said, ‘My friends, I am cvaw ernie

Myers never moved a muscle while the Straps were being adjusted. ate «
Again he spoke--this time ina prayer and in a feeblor voice than nate ae ae
before; 'May-the iord save my soul as well as SOUT ss. 3 the rove was <ited Suey
then adjusted and the ‘black. ‘cap drawn. %

“Precis sely.-at eleven. otclock the. tran Was. apring lease! body.
fell. Like a, rock--the knot ‘slipped from behind. the ear: during the

‘seconds--there were a dozen heaving respirations, the fingers

Bie Poa Lae aca
at 11:00,the physicians vronounced life extinct from strangulstion. “©. iin Be

was the first execution ever held in this. ccounty - and it, cyerced., nef PERT


»

ee

4
ite
fe
e

ile opal aA ielbg

~_

idee dint

asa iid

gis

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4 - nt fii HEH:

Bilgwes cc) 'e

Photo: Courtesy B.C. Provincial Archives.

Capt. Henry Dwyer had nothing on mind but plowing.

at present endeavoring to descry the trail
of the guilty, the dreadful tragedy remains
under a cloud, and the foul fiend in the
shape of a human wretch is still at large,
perchance in our very midst.”

Ironically, the “foul fiend” was indeed
“in our very midst.”

To add to the international flavor, an
American lawyer, Thomas G. Murphy,
arrived in Victoria. While Canadian of-
ficers had conducted the investigation in
Whatcom County, W.T., and the inquest
and funeral had been held in Victoria, B.
C., it remained for the Washington coun-
sel to arrest the suspects in Victoria! Act-
ing upon information learned at the scene
of the crime (never publicly stated), Mur-
phy “disguised his dress in such a manner
as not to be easily recognized,” and play-
ed amateur detective.

All night, he tramped Victoria streets,
searching all establishments frequented
by natives. Finally, at 6:30 in the morning,
while heading for breakfast in a Yates
Street restaurant, the weary investigator
spotted his quarry. “Kanaka” Joe, a 16-
year-old of Hawaiian and Indian blood,
and his Flathead Indian companion Char-
ley greeted the disguised lawyer affably,

\

_ happily accepting his invitation to break-

fast. During the meal Murphy skilfully
plied the suspects with subtle questions.
However, after breakfast the two became
restless, nervously suggesting it was time
they made their departure.

Fearing lest his suspect birds should
leave, Murphy made a citizen’s arrest,
charging them before an interested crowd
‘“« ..in the name of the people of the
United States and Washington Territory”
as murderers of James and Salina Dwyer.
Handing them over to a constable, he
wired Governor Ferry for authority to
seek extradition.

Charged with being “suspicious charac-
ters,” Joe, his brother Kie, Charley and a
fourth man were remanded a week to al-
low the complicated legal matters to be
sorted out and let police complete their
investigation.

Weeks later Joe stood in the dock alone.
Charley and the others had been released
for lack of evidence. In Joe’s case, how-
ever, there was evidence galore. For, un-
able to stand jail, he had early confessed
to having been an unwilling partner in the
crime, laying all blame at Charley’s door.

Photo: Courtesy B.C. Provincial Archives.

Magistrate Andrew C. Elliott heard extradition pleas.

Then, warming to his new role of man-of-
the-hour, he merrily babbled “confessions”
right and left. In his desire to make a
clean breast, he changed his story con-
stantly. Except on one point, on which he
did not waver—Charley done it!

This was his story until July 18, when
the garrulous Kanaka, having forsaken all
restraint, boldly proclaimed he himself
was the guilty one, even confessing to an-
other settler’s murder which had taken
place the year before. By this time, not
unnaturally, Victorians were “...becom-
ing doubtful whether the lad...at all
times is possessed of his proper senses.”

The preliminary hearing had weathered
more than conflicting evidence. There al-
so had been the knotty problems of extra-
dition. As the red tape was slowly elimina-
ted, the Olympia Courier urged its read-
ers to have patience. “We presume every-
thing will be arranged in the course of a
few days so that, shortly, a little judicious
hanging will be in order and the world rid
of one, if not more, murderous miscre-
ants!”

This was the speedy “justice” Joe could
expect across the line. He had yet to be

(Continued on page 49)

29

FS

‘Lm page 7)

Austin, the
hide-out in the
reveal it after all
ibby ranch of my
10 disagreed with
opinions of Sam
nt on to say that
ld a new stake
ck bank.
took command of
Peak waited im-
roceed to Round
s rushed from the
San Saba, and it
aad ride that his
m. Rangers Dick
1 George Harrell
\ustin. The trap
ig. The man who
it was expecting
close in for the

{ has been a mat-
ord speculation in
There are those
jones deliberately
picture to claim
esing the gang’s
be true, consid-
df men. Except
i the character of
vyman. Peak wor-
Aajor Jones, and
: that Jones har-
alry toward him.

Teena ROCK,”
x the major
z ouldn’t be

ry cow-punchers. |

' being seen there
y.”
very nail but the
3, the Bass Gang
streets of Round
: killed instantly
escape. Two days
2r cut to ribbons
gut after mum-
never stealing a
ching the truth
widow woman,”
2at since widows
| anything worth
the Round Rock
1 camped after
had refused to
s with prices on

refused to rush
for glory after
‘s and crack-shot
e account of the
at all statements
-anger headquar-

int Major Jones. -

his new task of
ravaging Kiowa-

ired from. the
1ing in the Fort
. But some years
ity-eight, he re-
ito a major city
1 little cow
t nto a Civ-
named a street

it was the only -

ik ever received
was rather sur-
{1 think him im-

8

pera

NS aacethttteh seamed ices

fe

et

BS yeah DiS Ui ene SAR Hs wl ge iit res ad ao Bed ae

DID THEY GET
THE SAN JUAN KILLER?

(Continued from page 29)

President Ulysses S. Grant signed
the extradition order allowing
Canadian officials to claim Joe.

tried by his peers in Washington Terri-
tory.

When at last the extradition order, sign-
ed by President Ulysses S$. Grant, was ac-
cepted by B.C. authorities, Joe was sur-
rendered to Sheriff Billings. Upon board-
ing the steamer, the befuddled youth
“seemed as happy as though he were start-
ing on a wedding tour, or was about to
visit a circus, instead of upon the journey
which ends in eternity.

“When accosted, he grinned; and when
told by someone that he was an object of
pity, he laughed outright. As the boat
moved off he strained his eyes to catch a
last glimpse of a friend on the wharf, nod-
ded, grinned again, and then sat down ap-
parently perfectly happy.”

The trial was brief, Joe still confessing
happily. He and Charley, he said, had
murdered the Dwyers to rob them. For
the atrocity they had gained two watches
and fourteen dollars.

In an extraordinary last interview, the
confused youth answered the questions of
Sheriff J. H. Boyce and a Colonist report-
er.

Reporter; “Joe, do you know you are
going to die tomorrow?”

Joe: “Oh, yes, I know all that now. Iam
glad of it. I would sooner be dead than
live in jail here.”

Reporter: “Do you believe in God, and
heaven?”

Joe: “Yes, I believe in God and heaven.
I am glad of going soon. I expect to see

Fuller (he had earlier confessed to having
murdered this English settler in 1872 for
smashing a friend’s quail traps), and
Dwyer and all (had there been others?)
there.”

Reporter: “Have you ever been to
school?”

Joe: “Yes, my father and mother sent
me to school; but I did not care for it
much. I wish you would see my father and
mother and half-sister, and tell them I am
gone now, goodbye. They live in Vic-
toria.”

Reporter: “Are you not sorry for kill-
ing Fuller and Dwyer?”

Joe: “Yes, I am sorry; but I am glad I
am ‘gone’ now. If I lived I might kill some
more. But the Indians made me do it all.”

Sheriff Boyce: “Don’t you think it too
bad that you should be hung and the oth-
ers go clear? If they are guilty?”

Joe: “Yes, I think so; but when my peo-
ple know I am dead I think they will catch
the Indians and shoot them.”

Boyce! “Will you be afraid tomorrow,
Joe? I must hang you.”

Joe: “Oh, no. I hope you won’t be
afraid. I want to die quick. I ask you for
a favor now. I hope you won’t put irons
on me going down to the place; I will go
with you and do anything you ask me. I
hope you won't put irons on me...I am
not afraid to die. I don’t want to be tied.”

Boyce: “All right, Joe, be a good boy
and I will treat you as well as I can.’

Reporter: “Have you any more to say,
Joe?”

Joe: “Well, I have no more now. When
you go to Victoria, if you see my peo-
ple, tell them Joe says goodbye. I am glad
you are going over; I was afraid I would
have no chance to tell my father and
mother I am gone.”

Sheriff Boyce: “Joe, did you make a
confession before like this one?”

Joe: “I made a confession in Victoria to
weeee (here the Colonist omitted San Juan
Islander Charles McCoy’s name), but he
first scared me into it, then promised to
do everything for me. I wish I could see
him hanging with me. I would be very
glad!”

On the morning of March 6, 1874, Joe -

mounted the gallows at Port Townsend.
To a crowd of 200, he said, “I am very sor-
ry for what I have done; all hands, good-
bye,” then waved his cap. His arms were
pinioned but his hands, as he had request-
ed, were not bound.

For a moment, the pathetic figure lost
composure, then, with a supreme effort,
calmed himself. Seconds later, the trap
was sprung. But, “the rope, being a large
new one, the knot did not slip easily but
slipped under the chin, leaving the strain
on the back of the neck. Consequently,
the neck was not broken and for a few
minutes the clenching hands and convul-
sions of the body showed that he had suf-
fered terribly.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Bingham
pronounced him dead. a

‘fast, air-conditioned autom

BUFFALO BIL

(Continued from page -
structure at the time of Cox
ment. The design was a n
structure with a large do
tunately, the plans for the pr
memorial building wer
finished. Had the plan been
through, the memoria
undoubtedly have adversel
the natural beauty of the s
Mt. Lookout and the sur:
countryside.

Four years after Cody’s
Mt. Lookout, Pahaska T
built and opened near the
Pahaska is an Indian word
long hair. Many of Cody’s s
and memorabilia are on p
display in this museum alon
traditional tourist gift shop.

The little house at 2932 }
Street, where Buffalo Bill di
standing. It passed out of th
family many years ago, butt
of time has been kind to t
dwelling. The building wa
into four small apartments
of years ago and the prop
been well maintained.

In the regal splendor of t
tic Colorado Rockies overlo
endless majesty of the Grea
Buffalo Bill reposes in the ev
sleep.

Thousands of tourists jo
the mountain every summe

visit his grave. The little
railroad has been gone for y
the road up the mountain is
and the drive is not difficult.
less stream of summer
browse through the museu
post card or two in the gift s!
then follow the pine tree pz
Cody’s gravesite where th
for a moment or two in silen
stroll along Wildcat Point, s
photographs, stand in quiet
and view the breathtaking
Denver, Golden, and the fli
extending to the east before
on their way. A traveler’s
is always busy.

Possibly the old-timers w
neyed up the mountain that J
years ago to. pay their last
to Buffalo Bill realized that
frontier days were gone fore
that in offering one last fina
to Col. Cody, the legend, tl
also extending their tribute
western heritage and biddi
West a final, nostalgic good

cleared $150, in addition to the $400 she and the Reverend T. J.
Weckes managed to raise from the Presbytery in Seattle.

The military lands staked by General Michler, after being
mostly leased out to private use for long years at a time, were
one by one given up by the Army altogether, no sign now
remaining of their one-time military earmarking. While the pretty
little country church islanders built with money raised at Mrs.
Michler’s festival still stands, elderly but revered and lovingly
preserved. And serene in the graves of the churchyard surrounding
it sleep many of the chief actors in the stories this book has yet
to tell.

4,
ALI

Ki, Wee Lele

LO

KANAKA JOE

T.. fires of spring bathed with
golden stillness the San Juan Island greens and blues of that
first American May. Snug in a hillside home not far from
American Camp a young girl bent, smiling, over her needlework,
her nostrils drawing in with pleasure the musky-sweet bouquet of
fresh-turned sod outside. The distant clank of harness and stamp
of hoofs rose and fell, rose and fell as share ripped through loam
and left furrow paralleling furrow in the field before her.

She as much felt as heard the thumping discharge of a firearm
somewhere outside, rose, and went to the door to learn the
meaning of the sound. But the distant scene which appeared to
her was unreal, as much so as the near one: the man facing her,
the contorted, dark-featured face and slight frame giving a
momentary impression of a wolf's head mounted incongruously
upon the body of a youngish boy.

The reality was the long-barreled weapon of death in the
assassin’s hand as he rushed straight for the house where the
girl retreated, numb, behind the door, locked it and pulled away
the key. The wolf-face appeared at the window and she saw him
take aim. Her arms went out to ward off the shot, not in front
of her face but in front of her belly, where her child grew yet

159

*N1QT“9-€ SucqduTysEY, SpuesuMo], quog pesuey Sydesor *YNVON


unborn. “Oh, please,” she breathed, “my baby!” Wolf-face pulled
the trigger and she felt the ball enter her side and it surprised her
how warm thg blood felt as it ran from the wound, and she rqn
into the kitchpp, so he wouldn?t do it again, bu} then Wolf-fage
was at the kijehen window foo, and she came hack ty the living
room and took down the shotgun from its peg. She found the
trigeer just as the énemy reappeared behind the broken pane
and took aim again. She fell when he fired, the muzzle of her
own weapon arcing toward her and discharging as the stock met
the floor.

Wolf-face forced the door and stood over the pellet-riddled
body of the girl an instant and then kicked her probingly in the
face. But he needn’t have done that. She was quite dead.

It was hard for a San Juan Island settler in late 1872 to sec
that the boundary decision really changed anything. To be sure,
the British troops left the island promptly enough — and after
being mustered out in England, some of them just as promptly
returned to become settlers themselves. The American soldiers
stayed on longer (for reasons to be noted) and then many of

them, too, swapped the Army blue for homespun, and the

soldier’s life for the pioneer’s, on this island they had come to

love.

Hudson’s Bay sheep no longer roamed the hillsides, having
been recalled to Britannic pastures, and were replaced by goats
imported by an enterprising rancher. With the sheep had gone
most of the Hawaiian herdsmen and their families, many of them
settling down near Victoria or on Canada’s Saltspring Island;
though some remained on San Juan. A few of these became
solid citizens -— but mostly they squatted in a shack town around
shallow, mud-bottomed Kanaka Bay on the island's southwestern
shore.*

* Now known as False Bay. North of it lies a smaller cove called Kanaka
Bay on today’s maps.

160

The Reverend Thomas J. Weekes,
pioneer minister of the San Juans.
Friday Harbor Presbyterian Church.

The Islands’ first schoolhouse, on Portland Fair Hall,
San Juan Island. Courtesy Mrs. Leith Wade, Friday Harbor.

?? st ST:

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me 19 een cmpe nse ay men arm © Senge mg Porm sellin Mm aN = cnet PE te cae eee ee ae
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MAHONEY, James, white, hanred Washington (King) 121-1922,

SCIENCE vs. CRIME
Copyright © 1979 by Eugene B. Block

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or any information Storage and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the publisher,

Published by Distributed to the book trade by
Cragmont Publications Caroline House

China Basin Building P.O. Box 161

161 Berry Street, Suite 6410 Thornwood, New York 10594

San Francisco, California 94107

Edited by Diane Sipes

Jacket designed by Carolyn Bean Associates

Type set by Medallion Graphics >
Printed by Science Press

Bound by Arnold’s Bindery

Manufactured in the United States of America
First printing October, 1979

Ltn ed fF . A / ORAS é 4 f
OF ss Ay | i ca : J
/ &- J-Yy 72 2.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Block, Eugene B.
Science vs. crime.

Includes index.

1. Criminal investigation. I. Title.
HV8073.B58 364.12 79-2194]
ISBN 0-89666-007-9


98 Science vs. Crime

Luke May, and Hans Schneickert, the latter having been direc-
tor of the Identification Bureau of the Berlin police until 1928.
Years earlier Hans Gross made a notable beginning in this
field.

While the general approach of the experts is usually the
same, some are inclined to place more emphasis on certain
characteristics than on others. Most of them pay special atten-
tion to word terminals — upward, horizontal, or downward —
and to connections. Today’s experts, undertaking a compli-
cated study, use their microscopes to examine every stroke of
the pen or pencil. In one case, described later in this chapter,
an examiner was even able to conclude that the writer was
handicapped by a stiffened right thumb.

On rare occasions experts are confronted by puzzling prob-
lems arising from the practice of using invisible writing
materials like milk, lemon juice, or saliva. It has been found,
however, that with proper scientific treatment and illumina-
tion such writing can be made legible.

Tracing can also become an important element. In some
instances forgers will trace a signature onto another piece of
paper; less frequently they will attempt to erase using ink
eradicators, rubber, or knives, but if the paper has been altered
erasures can be detected with little difficulty, usually with the
help of the ultraviolet ray.

This was once learned by an ingenuous burglar who believed
that he had conceived a foolproof scheme, which unfortu-
nately for him failed to fool the experts.

This man, operating in the Pacific Northwest, broke into a
large building in which many dentists had their offices. The
burglar, after looting many of the dental offices of gold and
silver, escaped by airplane to a small town in the Midwest
hundreds of miles away. There he engaged a room in a cheap
lodging house and thoughtfully laid his plans.

He induced the desk clerk to leave on an errand, and, alone
in the office, the newcomer quickly scanned the register trying
to find a guest’s name written on the same day as the burglary.
This was not difficult. Then, using an ink eradicator he had
brought with him for the purpose, he erased the name and
wrote in his own. Now he was convinced he would have an
airtight alibi in the event of capture to prove that at the time
of the crime he was in another state. However, he did not

Reading Between the Lines 99

anticipate the skill of the handwriting experts.

Some weeks later he was captured miles away on the basis
of the hotel clerk’s description and promptly asserted his alibi
as proof of his innocence. Detectives went to the rooming
house and examined the signature with trained eyes. A hand-
writing expert was summoned and he quickly discovered the
deception. The burglar went to prison.

In the field of forgery detection, a humorous situation once
developed to deflate the ego of a celebrated prisoner in San
Quentin Penitentiary in California, a musician named
Damasus Gallur, who was serving a life sentence for murder.

Gallur had gained nationwide attention by winning a large
cash prize for an original composition commemorating the
completion of the Panama Canal. It was a march that he had
written while sitting alone in his prison cell, working in
competition with many composers all over the country. Proud
of his success, Gallur told reporters that he would continue
to compose music in spite of his handicap, and months later
he showed them checks for large amounts that he had received
from music publishers in payment of royalties.

His achievements were reported in the press, but the
denouement came some time later when inquisitive prison
officials learned to their surprise that Gallur had been working
with a clever forger in the prison who had accommodatingly
raised the amounts of the royalty checks, so that a check for
$1.20 became a check for $1,200. Kindly authorities never told
him that his trickery had failed. Obviously they wanted to
spare him chagrin. He had committed no crime, as he had not
attempted to cash the checks.

Luke May liked to tell of a case in which he not only
unmasked a forger but proved him to be a murderer.

This case involved a sudden turn in the life of an ex-convict,
James E. Mahoney, who had been in trouble previously for
assault. When Mahoney, never affluent, suddenly displayed a
small fortune in diamonds, word reached the police and he was
summoned for questioning. He had a quick explanation,
stating that he had recently married a wealthy widow. The
gems, he claimed, had been entrusted to him while his bride
was on vacation in Cuba. They had traveled together as far as

100 Science vs. Crime

St. Louis, he related, and parted there as his wife continued on
her way with a woman friend.

Pressed for proof, Mahoney reached into his pocket and took
out a love letter from his wife as well as a book of travelers
checks bearing her name. He also displayed papers giving him
power of attorney. But the police were far from satisfied. If they
could not verify Mahoney’s statements through his wife, they
at least could question some of the couple’s friends. In the
meantime, they decided to detain Mahoney pending results.

It did not take detectives long to learn that their suspicions
were well-founded. Mahoney, they discovered, had already
sold some of his wife’s real estate; moreover, friends asserted
that she had always been in the habit of keeping her diamonds
in her own possession. The genuineness of the power of
attorney now came under suspicion. May was given the trav-
elers checks together with examples of the woman’s hand-
writing. It did not take him long to conclude that the letters
and signatures displayed by Mahoney were definitely forged.

Now it became necessary to locate Mrs. Mahoney, and the
Cuban authorities were called on for assistance. After several
days had passed without any helpful information, detectives
decided to inquire into Mahoney’s movements on the day he
said he had left home with his wife for St. Louis. To their
surprise they learned that before his departure he had appeared
before a notary public with a woman he introduced as his wife
but whose description did not match that of his spouse;
actually he was with his sister, a Mrs. Johnson.

Other developments followed in quick succession. From a
trucker the investigators learned that he had carted a heavy
trunk from Mahoney’s apartment and driven it and Mahoney
to a lake, where Mahoney had lifted it into a boat in which he
rowed away. A storekeeper told the police that Mahoney had
purchased rope and lime on the same day.

Months later, after an intensive search, the trunk was
recovered in the muddy bed of the lake. In it was the crumpled
and badly decomposed body of the missing woman. Mahoney
was proved to be not only a forger but a killer as well. He paid
with his life on the gallows, and his sister, convicted of forgery,
was sent to prison.

One of the most bizarre cases illustrating the value of exper-

Reading Between the Lines 101

tise in handwriting fills a bulky file in the archives of the
United States Supreme Court in Washington. This is the case
that revealed Edward Heinrich’s extraordinary ability not only
to establish forgery but also to ascertain that the suspect was
handicapped by a stiffened thumb joint.

The case had its origin in the hectic days of the prohibition
era, when rumrunning, bootlegging, and speakeasies were a
part of the new American way of life. At great expense and with
a small army of agents spread across the country, Uncle Sam
was trying his utmost to stem the flow of contraband liquor
from Canada and other countries into the United States.

Government officials were especially concerned at this time
with the operations of a large Canadian freighter, the Quadra,
which was defiantly bringing large Canadian shipments to
California ports. Every effort to trap the vessel inside the
twelve-mile limit of American waters had failed, but prohibi-
tion officials continued their efforts to capture the rumrunner.

The long-awaited encounter came on October 12, 1924, out-
side the Golden Gate, the entrance to San Francisco Bay. It
ended days and nights of watchfulness by Lieutenant-Com-
mander C. F. Howell of the U.S. coast guard cutter Shawnee,
who had been playing a cat-and-mouse game, eager to catch the
Canadian freighter in American waters. It was close to noon
when Howell, peering through his binoculars, satisfied himself
that the heavily laden vessel had sneaked into waters under
American jurisdiction. Quickly steering his cutter in the
Quadra’s direction, he approached at full speed and was soon
close enough to speak to the other vessel and demand sur-
render.

His command was ignored by the Quadra’s skipper, Captain
George Ford, who insisted that he was fourteen miles off shore,
and for a time the two captains exchanged angry words, using
megaphones. In the end Howell ordered three of his men to
board the Canadian ship, which was to be towed into port as
a prize. The coastguardsmen had barely begun their work with
hawsers when they spied a small motorboat pulling away from
the port side of the Quadra. Howell was signaled and when
the little craft ignored his order to halt, the Shawnee’s skipper
sent three shots over the heads of those in the boat. This
brought quick surrender, and the craft, loaded with sacked
liquors, was made fast to the cutter.

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tows baticeus 2 yi, fom 55¢|
Sat Pic Lee Boer
ii ae
fs cans pork and beans. Shiter’s OF =;
Laie eee te Sie ede ot 256.
+, S ef ARs Be.
Good ‘sable! ayeuD, ‘gallon Page A5¢,

4 cans Economy cream for. pina on 25¢

ve
‘..

"Miaaesota. Batters
|. Store. |
Bethea a a1" Hewitt at ae J

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W. W. /- MILLER & SONS
CASH GROCERS se

: is: cans Tiger cream,...: Pte 25e|

Only 5 cans to a customer. ©

: Peach: Blossom ‘flour te eae - 91.201.

Best Ev iy flour ve desteey ers os

Goffee—Coffee-—W hite Hoate ‘coftes,.
just try.some, it will please youn:
~2° "- Coupons with'eath sale%

» Phone 1:

809 Hew itt’ Avenue. .

Some Goods That Everts
~ body. Should Use™ ie
beet Golden. Drip. Mocha a

Bargreen’s Delicious. Black Tea.

“Bargreen’s vureing Sitetractar’
Bargreen’s Abso
‘Monte Cristo Baking. powder.

‘lirasiata ot —
"SHRED ae a

batter: orderin;

, } business ‘onthe .
Java Coffee. +, aE

Benaresns, Perfection. Brier: as:

Pure. Splet .

for. athe dnvoming, clare: of of Sorte. or. more,
| but after? thing, aie

“| tbe, | too: small, and” abe

only a “question, of a ver + few yeal

, fore! a: permanent: hight ‘school | ballaig |
Pure ale cider, vinega gallow:. B0¢ ;

The native of ‘the crime, was jealousy.
“Alderson and MePhail. were -Fival, saloon-
Keepers:i in Darrington. McPhail’s license”
‘was: not; renewed - “and: Iris® ‘place: of busi-
néss was ‘closed tip. ‘The-evening of that:
day he wént.jnto Alderson’s salon and
- drink for himéelf and
“@ companion he pulled: a “gam and. ‘shot
: Alderete: ‘kil tm’ ‘almost: instantly:

“stiaded: the: sole: 40° allow: the law to be

was: procured ‘and:

4 ‘two guards McPhail ‘wa: S bronght to: the:
serene We es ae “th

ie, a. ‘well "know, Everett citizen,
last might <about midnight at his? home
after “several months’, illnéss.*: Death '}-

| was: “caused: by, heart, trouble, JThe*fun~

eral. arrangements have ‘not’ yet “been
made,” but’ the services: will probably be }-
held. Sunday.» “Mr. Riley \is survived ‘by
‘one son, William, and his’ wife: He sa

forty-two. years ‘olay &

Mr: Riley had lived “prerett f

of St ‘Paul, hi iwas interested: in’ news.

Pauk and Portland: a

points...)
Mr. Riley; “whit, member * cf rds: Elka,

“belonging to the Portland. lodge: a

MRS, JULIA BISHOP. ‘DEAD.
Mrs. Julia: Wi Bishop, of 2227 ‘Summit. |

“avenue, died this morning at 7: 15 a’clock,
.[ after a protracted: illness of six months: Bs
“A MTs Bishop: avns 76" ‘yeates old “th

livedin Everett » “singe” 1898. The. re- |

Rvery tice SO

a Imperial Tea Co.” ‘
a jay Everett, Wash,
pati : y

és oX phe aeagiong ;
eo res ‘Sad onlf. by “tana ca
per of the Dubuque bers and: eae a teri izes a ‘sufferer from diabetes, Tea Toh
Se mother #8 i. GF Rishon: of Hxeret

_mains, will, be taken‘ to Dubuque; Iowa,
for. burial” Mrs: Bishop was.the widow,
i well known meny--

* “HOTEL ARRIVALS.

gattet et

. McPhail’ n ely! ‘escaped: lynching. at | Ja
the: hands’ off), ington’ people while” he |'s
waa confin sd in’ the jail there, “Ed Stan- |
‘yar had: hi Ling charge, ‘and: finally. ‘pers ‘

earried gut, “The mob ‘dispersed, a. buggy | S78"
with the assistance of ‘

awe 7m

“number. of. ‘years, coming to” ‘thig- eity

“|i 1894. | He ‘Jeaves “property. ini Everett,
-| *facoma sand other parts of the West.
«| Logethériwith his brother; William: Riley,

| forsa: greater: part, of a: half century.

“ ‘ereed; ‘Senat Mitchell rapidly declined:
; Npt in recat Ne

‘Butler: academy rom eh he: ‘was jat-

ra ticed i in, pentayteania umn

yJocating- first-at: ‘San. Luis Obispo.

that “year. he, came to. Portland. | The:
‘energy. that: has.. characterized. his entire

publican ticket’ as town, counsel’ of, Port-
land | in, 1861. ‘The next year “he was,

“election” to: the’ United. States: “senate in

ei the -penaté;s 3B Hay engaged
ins ‘the
1886/ when he was re-elected to be Uni?

choosé: ‘a pene tosis 1881

iy ae cH. Sirarier,s: “until |
» the‘ tégislature- again - chose |
hints: ‘one of the states reprenentatives

tion, | ‘retaining * in’ remark ble: degree* his
wonderful. sways of men 28 did the’ eels
pator:. It was only ‘when. his® “regret.

fraud” the’ government of its public \ *do-

“tion An’ the: federal- court, that he’ lost:
the political influence: whieh he had held

From, his seventieth’ birthday, June 22.
Piast, the; day on which his guilt was de-

ears ayhearty. man, a pe-.
yee: cold” a. year. ago- followed | fy? the
breaking of 4 limb during the latter part

‘{miliation rapidly sapped pis! vitality un-
til he was’ in ‘poor. conditions ppysically.|
to’ throw: off. ase ‘might younger mat”
the blood poison that. fri juently charac:

/Seriator Mitchell's. widow isin Paris?
of her. time since the marriage of their
daughter, Margaret; to, the Duke. of

lis, the child: first

‘to “bus, ‘means :to* ‘pay. his” ‘tuitjon ‘at if

ms pri 860; when. he: ‘went. to: Calli’ 3
fornia
sab ‘and, later: it: San Francisco... In’ July. of |.

career ‘caused his. -electcion: on the® re- 4 | *

“elected” +0. the. state senate: “:He- failed. |:

1866 by ‘one Note.” ‘In 1862 he® formed-a |
3 “with” the late. erate |

ractice of Jaw. in Portiand until

ted, States: senator’ at ‘wespecial session r
of the legislatuce, that: body: ‘having fails :

“in the United States senate/'\which ‘office

Phe! retained up. tintil’ his dfattio |
| Few piiblic ‘men’ have} been assailed |

‘hd withstood so much’ vigorous opposi- | .

table” connection. in a ‘conspiracy “to de-:| >

main- was: made: manifest’ by his convie-, :

mental: strain and hi -

Seance: where: she: hag spent a large. part |.

f Mr. Afitehell also “hada |

tefant Hiram Hpceetny

- i Initialed

: + Embroide

A En ae a a


e

98

from his quarters in the Sofia Apartments.
You will remember, Luke, we held it
back, hoping Jim would try to escape the
noose by telling some sort of a cock-and-
bull story about a fight with his wife;
but we never had to introduce it as evi-
dence.” :

That pestle was certainly a wicked
weapon, weighing probably ten pounds.
It had fitted neatly into the hole in Kate
Mahoney’s skull.

“You know,” said Ballard, as he put
on his hat to leave, “I finally found out
why I was wrong in my calculations about
where that body would be found in Union

offender, For I hold that in most cases
a first offender may still be considered a
potential, respectable citizen, and that it
is the duty of the State to do all it can
to-assist that man to regain respectable
citizenship. A man desirous to retrieve
his fallen reputation may not be expected
to rise easily above his surroundings if
his prison status is on a parity with those
whose redemption is obviously impossi-
ble, or at least a long way off.

I HAVE seen men’s shoulders sag, their
heads droop and their faces change to
one of utter hopelessness as the prison
rates clanged for the first time behind
them. I would have a sign reading
“Gave Hope All Ye Who Enter Here”
atLove the entrance, and I #vould like to
see the condemned pass this entrance
with shoulders squared, heads up and the
light of hope on their faces. I hold that
every man convicted of an offense against
society, for which he is sent to prison,
save those few from whom all sense of
decency has fled beyond recall, should
have the light of hope always before
him; for where hope exists, redemption
is always possible. It is when all hope
has gone that a prisoner usually turns
callous qnd is no longer a fit subject for
clemency.

That is the moral side of the case;
there is a business side as well. When I
became Governor of Ohio our antiquated
State’s prison, designed to house a maxi-
mum of some two thousand prisoners,
was so overcrowded that there had been
a frightful riot, with an appalling loss of
life. Faced with the problem of mak-
ing two men sleep in a space only intended
for one, it was imperative that something
be done—either the State of Ohio must
build a bigger prison or weed out the
prison population. Emergencies always
lead to constructive solutions and out of
this emergency arose a system of weed-
ing out, after one year, which has, in my
opinion, been weighed and found not
wanting.

It is an accepted rule among penal in-
stitutions that a man may reduce the
length of his term by good behavior. No
fault has ever been found with this. Why,
then, cannot the application of this prin-

ciple be carried further, so as to permit .

the good in a man to come to the sur-
face. The purpose of Ohio’s “one year
parole” system is to permit a prisoner to
rise above the atmosphere of vicious en-
vironment and prove himself to be de-
serving of clemency, before he may be-
come hopelessly contaminated. Our “one
year parole” system simply permits the
separating of our deserving prison popu-
lation from the less, or totally undeserv-
ing, and the placing of them where they
can more readily complete their rehabili-
tation, This makes good men out of

Bs

True Detective Mysteries

Bay. I told Jack Pace, the warden, to
ask Mahoney about’ that feature of the
case. Jim told Pace I wasn’t wrong. He
said that after he rowed out into the
lake and threw the trunk overboard, that
it wouldn’t sink. There he was, out on
the lake, with his dead and murdered
wife in a trunk that insisted upon float-
ing. He got a little excited, but finally he
towed the trunk ashore. Near the re-
mains of an old mill he found a piece of
concrete. He put this into the boat and
rowed back out into the lake. By now
he had gotten well down toward the Uni-
versity Bridge. He fastened the concrete

Our “New Justice”

(Continued from page 5)

erstwhile and potential bad ones; and at
the same time prevents or minimizes
overcrowding of our penal institutions.

Some persons incline to the “swift and
sure” method of punishment as the most
effective way of preventing crime; but
this method has been declared by crimi-
nologists to be obsolete. It has failed,
both as a preventive and a cure for
crime. Those like myself who believe in
the newer justice have been accused of
“coddling” prisoners; but this is not the
truth. Much public misunderstanding is
due to a confusion between probation and
parole. In Ohio, the papers or refus-
ing of parole lies exclusively with the
Board of Clemency at Columbus, while
the granting or refusing of probation
rests with the trial judge. A defendant
on probation is under the control of the
probation officers of the court in which
he was tried. A defendant on parole is
under the parole officer of the Division
of Probation and Parole of the Depart-
ment of Public Welfare. There is a
wide difference between the two: Proba-
tion is granted before sentence is served,
while a parole is granted after a mini-
mum sentence of one year has been
served.

‘ae common misunderstanding
is that a defendant placed on proba-
tion has “got off light,” whereas the spirit
of the probation law is vastly different. It
means that the defendant has simply
been placed under the eonstant supervi-
sion of the convicting court instead of
being sent to the penitentiary, in charge
of State officers.

In Ohio, it is the practice to refer a
criminal case to the probation depart-
ment as soon as the jury has rendered a
verdict, if the offense is not a major one
and the evidence adduced during the
trial has, satisfied the judge that the de-
fendant is not amenable to probation.
The case is continued for a week or ten
days to give the probation officer ample

_ opportunity to make a complete investi-

gation. During this time he visits the
home of the defendant, noting his en-
vironment, interviewing disinterested per-
sons who are able to give unbiased testi-
mony as to the life and habits of the
defendant. Furthermore, the defendant
is usually studied by the court psychia-
trist.

Probation is simply the application of
social diagnosis and individual social
treatment to suitable cases. It is not
“letting off light” with another chance. It
is a substitute for discharge or “sus-
pended sentence” as well as for unneces-
sary, undesirable confinement which,
when unnecessary, injures the defendant,
as well as those dependent upon him.
In ‘addition to the aforementioned points
it adds materially to the expense of the

to the trunk with a piece of rope and let
it sink into the bay; then he rowed ashore
and left the boat, without returning it.
If he had placed the trunk where he origi-
nally intended to sink it, we might never
have found it, for at that point the water
is very deep, while nearer the bridge,
where Colby ran into it, the water is
shallow. So his calculations went wrong
there, as did mine. I couldn’t understand,
how I could be mistaken; that kid’s story
about Jim’s phony fishing sounding like
the real thing to me; kids don’t often
lie. That kid told the truth. Chance
changed the spot, that’s all.”

state. Our probation is substituting for
prison walls the restraining, uplifting in-
fluence of a fine personality, who under-
stands, encourages and helps while guid-
ing and watching in a friendly, fraternal
supervision, This system of probation
provides, as far as is humanly possible,
for the defendant of good intent and
manifest potentiality of development, the
condition, the soil for normal growth and
fulfillment.

AR too much, however, that masks

under the name probation is a spurious
article; because probation has developed
in less than a quarter of a century, and
has grown practically unaided and un-
guided. Real probation is sympathetic
contact with a constructive personality,
and is not to be confused with giving an-
other chance by turning a defendant out
of a courtroom with an admonition to
watch his step.

Ohio is making a practical experiment
of the “new justice’—probation by the
court before the defendant has been im-
prisoned, and parole of satisfactory pris-
oners after serving the minimum sentence
of one year. Back of this experiment is
the simple purpose to keep out of prison
men and women whose offenses are more
irritating than malignant. It aims, too, to
care for the individual paroled from
prison; to provide employment, right
living _ conditions, maintain friendly
supervision and offer such help as may
be needed in winning back a place in the
world.

The business of Ohio’s new Board of
Clemency is to sit in seclusion, untram-
meled by lawyers, family or friends, with
the “case card” of the applicant, approved
or otherwise by the warden and the
chaplain, and separate the wheat from the
chaff. Those winning parole, strictly on
their own merits, are sent to the prison
farm at London, where they are per-
mitted to work out their future destinies
on the honor plan.

The State Farm at London is a prison
without walls, built as a clearing house
for character, and to relieve congestion
at the penitentiary, a model farm. where
those who have been found worthy of
the trust imposed upon them are given
every opportunity to work out their better
destinies in clean, fresh air and sunshine,
free from sordid influence. These men,
separated from the population of the
penitentiary, are not ‘coddled” but are
assigned to useful tasks on the broad
acres, which the state has under cultiva-
tion, and in the industrial plants. The
dairy is one of the largest and most mod-
ern in the country. The state also oper-
ates a first-class brick-making plant.
Everything grown and manufactured at
the London farm is distributed among
the various state institutions.

ea

ene et Sa sy

But the best
on this model
generated souls
institution dise
Every man is .
to feel that he
sympathetic fri:
to offer him ev
ing out his com
of the London
mate salvation |
time to time a
they are given
trusties to work
ete. I am sur
examining Ohio
eing practiced
system, from b
business standp:
Under the pre
Parole has ney
at Mansfield un:
there a year, I
certain cases of
heard after the
institution for fo
the young offend
a very minor cri
back into societ:
sible period of j
I am very m
couraging annow
to me from ou
Division. A ver
in these trying t
parole, and we {
works out at a t:
1s so scarce, that
it will be even m
perity returns ar
our type of men

Tue Loy
Must

Tempesti
hate—and
hold the p:
Strange my
ofiron. Tr:
bound cany
mountains
age-old batt
in a primitiy

You won’
this gripping
pears in
issue of TRI
MYSTERIES,
one of the
figures ever :
a crime of p
tamed mou:
who lived a
lently.

On sale at
October 5th.


n. She was taken
rge was brought

es Schoonmaker
craigned in court
woke away from
handcuffed Hall.
oferred until the
f the two guards
il. However, after
tson and French
to ilty.
yn Sctober 11th,
Hall and Cross,
jing a stretch of
, they hatched
lot, were handed
niece. It was the
under Michigan
hey were ordere
te Prison which
ing an absolutely

the plot, Archie
iteen months to
n drew a one-to-

ies Schoonmaker's

id take her. “rap.”,
spirit apparently

al of questioning

ough, she awaited

intenance.

nes Schoonmaker, -
even years in the
» Detroit House of

red-headed girl
e heard the omi-
‘e. Then she said

, any of her com-
it institution ask
what she did for
strange look comes
he says. “He was
a redhead. [I still
ve him. The only
when I get out of
him once more at

a

At 8 o’clock, in his
honey came Ne a
ne baggage in it;
: Detautrven Charles
, and told him of
the detective, “and
town he’ll be hard

ie, Captain Tenant,
istus and Deputy
arrived with a war-
ustus took a walk
| arrived at the foot

as Jim Mahoney
the car. The officers
m into custody. He
olice station in the
terson and Tenant
old Nora Mahoney
house they found a
id about twenty-five
money. Jim Ma-
the apartment for
eturn to Seattle. In
ch of pap which
> had been disposed

ld on a charge of
d hold him for the
re was Kate Mooers
enant talked to Ma-

i lil aaa nies il cats ade IOS

Lact eal

honey for four straight hours, but was un-
able to break through his shell. The
only thing the captain noticed was a re-
luctance on the part of the captive to
talk about his luggage; he closed up like
a clam when the old round-top trunk was
mentioned

Mahoney said his wife had left the dia-
monds with him because she was afraid
to carry them on such a long trip. He
insisted that the power of attorney and

all the letters and travelers’ checks were
genuine.

¥ NLESS,” he said, “she has double-

/ crossed me, and is trying to get rid of
me by sending me back to the pen for
breaking my parole, because I left the
state without consent. She signed those
letters and the power of attorney, and
sent me back with them; somebody is
trying to hand me something. Why don’t
you find her and see what she has to say?
Turn me loose; I’ll find her for you.”

“We'll find her, Jim,” answered Ten-
ant as he turned away; but for all
his words he was far from certain this
could be done.

Chad Ballard was still of the opinion
that the answer to Kate Mahoney’s dis-
appearance lay in the hemp-bound trunk.
He wanted to know how that luggage got
away from the apartment? He wanted
to know who hauled it? He wanted to
know when Jim Mahoney actually left
Seattle for the Twin Cities? He wanted
to know where the Mahoneys stopped in
St. Paul? He wanted to know if any
one had actually seen them together
there? When ‘these questions were
answered to his satisfaction, he felt he
might be converging upon the truth

Pay this Cheque fr

alance to the’

OL enea-saresato cannon J?

i Pay this Cheque om
_ Balance to the Order of. ih 2 Shes
é oem, Cai aTEN

Iie Wi Tied,

oes *

Two of the travelers’ checks that fi
A-1 are genuine, signed by Mrs. M
tellers pronounced signatures B

DD) Lbje pes) | MASTES ESTABUSHED EY! «==> ay CURRENy BUYING RATE -C= >.
He Detlird/ eins EXPRESS COMPANY |

Loy poy AUBATES ESTARIICMED Gr) =
(far) AMERICAN EXPRESS COMPANY | ia

gured prominently in the trunk enigma. A and

ahoney when she purchased the checks. Bank
and B-1 genuine also; but the Powerful lens of a
Magnascope told a different story

True Detective Mysteries

Again turning to his underworld in-
formant, Ballard. learned that Jim Ma-
honey had two friends in Everett, twenty-
five miles north of Seattle, by name
George and James Tracy, who dealt in
liquor. The informant thought these
men might know something about Ma-
honey’s actions during the middle of
April. Ballard visited these men and
found that Mahoney had visited them
on April 17th, the day following the last
on which Kate Mahoney had been seen
alive. On the night of the eighteenth he
boarded a train at Everett for St. Paul—
alone! He had told the Tracys however,
that his wife was to be on the train.
Later, he wrote to James Tracy from St.
Paul telling of the safe arrival there of
himself and wife, a friendly little note,
also saying he would soon be home again,
as his wife was going on to Cuba.

NVESTIGATIONS in St. Paul soon re-

vealed that a Mr. and Mrs. James Ma-
honey had registered at the St. Francis
Hotel there on April 2ist. For a por-
tion of the stay at least, the hotel man-
agement was sure there had been a
woman in the room. Myhra Helms, the
public stenographer, at the hotel, had
typed the letters which Mahoney used to
get into the safe-deposit vault, and to
obtain possession of the car. Neither had
been signed by Mrs, Mahoney in her
presence, however.

Daily, it became more apparent that
without locating Kate ahoney her
husband could only be tried for forgery.
Despite my scientific findings, that would
be a difficult case, since it would be hard
to prove who had actually forged the
various documents and travelers’ checks,

[SE] ; “Ai

FOR BANKERS CHEQUES ON KEW YORK.

95

HTC ats
if hs in {

$1000 REWARD
For the Capture of
his Man

ONVICT 6138, escaped from the
oe State Penitentiary; N ame, Charles

Condray; age 37; Height, 5 ft. 8 in.
Weight 141 pounds; Hair, light brown;
Eyes, gray.
Easy enough to identify him from his
Photograph and this description, you
may say—but, Condray took the name
of “Brown”, dyed his hair, darkened
his skin, grew a mustache, put on
weight and walked with a stoop,

Yet, he was captured and identified so post.
tively that he knew the game was up and re-
turned to the penitentiary without extradition,
How was it accomplished? Easy enough for
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96

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er mcr

True Detective Mysteries

LUKE S. MAY
shown in a corner of his famous workshop, in Seattle. His scientific deductions in-
volving the trunk riddle proved of tremendous value in unraveling the mystery
surrounding the disappearance and murder of the victim in the case

“Jim,” said Chief Tenant, trying a little
friendliness, “if you would tell us what
you did with that trunk, I think we
could clear this up.”

“I could tell you she took it to Cuba
with her, couldn’t I,” answered Mahoney
sarcastically. “But she didn’t. If you
find it you get a load of first-class booze;
then you can violate my parole for that.”

Mrs. Nora Mahoney and Dolores John-
ston hinted to the press that such was the
answer to the trunk mystery. Some of
the reporters began to poke fun at the
detective department about it.

B* now it was the first of June, and
Detective Ballard had decided that
the only answer to the mystery lay in
finding the man who had hauled the trunk
away from the Sofia Apartments. For
days on end he visited the transfer
companies making inquiries about the
the old-fashioned, round-top trunk; but
the questions availed him nothing. Now
he turned to the independent haulers—
men with a single truck; still without suc-
cess. Then he began the separate in-
terrogation of every individual truck
driver for the large concerns he had al-
ready visited, and, finally, he came upon
Alvin Jorgensen.

“T remember that trunk,” said Jorgen-
sen, excitedly. “I hauled it!”

Ballard breathed a sigh of relief, and
settled back to hear the driver’s story;

either it would lead to the end of the.

trail or the case would fold up, he was
sure.

“T hauled such a trunk from four hun-
dred nine Denny Way on the night of
April sixteenth, this year,” said Jorgen-
sen. “It was bound with a heavy hemp
rope, heavier than is usually used; the
trunk was heavy, must have weighed
around a hundred and_ seventy-five
pounds. I got the trunk about ten
o’clock and the man who wanted it hauled
went with me. We drove down to four-

teen fifteen East Northlake Avenue, near
a boat-house, and I helped him put the
trunk into a rowboat. He was tall, bald
and kinda gawky. He said he was going
to take the trunk across the lake. He
got into the boat and I drove away.”

AUTIONING. Jorgensen to say noth-

ing about his trip, Ballard hurried to
1415 East Northlake. A short distance
away was the sign of “Howarp & Son—
Boats to Ler.”

“Are you that guy Glassford’s part-
ner?” asked an irate Mr. Howard when
Ballard questioned him about renting a
boat to a tall, gawky, bald man, on April
16th or 17th. “Why didn’t you bring my
boat back instead of leaving it down by
the house? I might have lost it.”

“Ts that Glassford?” asked Ballard, ex-
hibiting a photo of Mahoney.

“That’s him,” said Howard. “He
rented a boat for a week; said his part-
ner was coming from Montana. Later, I
found it near the University Bridge.”

The body of water in question is a
shallow estuary which lies between the
Montlake and University Bridges and is
known as Union Bay, a connecting pas-
sage between Lake Union and Lake
Washington. Continuing his investiga-
tions in this vicinity, Ballard came across
a youth, named George Shepherd, who
seemed to have some valuable informa-
tion.

“There was a tall guy in a boat which
was too small for him,” said the youth.
“He had a fishing line and as he went
out from the shore he kept letting it up
and down. It had a weight on it. I told
him he couldn’t catch fish that way, but
he just laughed.”

Detective Chad Ballard had his own
ideas about what that tall man in the
boat was doing. He believed he was tak-
ing soundings to find a deep spot in which
to hide an old-fashioned round-top trunk
into which had been crowded the body
of his wife. Inquiring as to the exact
spot where the sounding had occurred,
Ballard then hastened back to head-
quarters.

a oe I brought a fellow in here
who hauled a trunk down to the lake
front and saw Mahoney take it out in a
boat?” asked Ballard. “Would you be-
lieve I had a trunk mystery then?”

“Youre just bound to have Kate Ma-:
honey in that trunk, aren’t you Chad,”
answered Chief Tenant. “But if you
have that much to go on I'll get the pa-
trol boat busy.”

“T’]] be at the lake,” answered Ballard.
“J know within a few feet of where we
will find it.”

“Well, Jim, the jig’s up,” Captain Ten-
ant told Mahoney. “We'll have the trunk
in twenty-four hours.”

“Yes?” answered Mahoney, still smil-
ing. “And all you'll get will be some fine
whisky, like I told you.”

It was now nearing the end of the first
week in June. The twenty-four hours
passed and still the trunk was not found.
Six more weeks passed without results.
Captain Tenant and his trunk mystery
became quite a joke to the reporters.

“We'll keep dragging until we find it if
it takes a year,” said Tenant, now thor-
oughly sold that Chad Ballard had the
right “dope.” The prosecutor supported
this decision, and so did I.

In the: police department at the time
of the dragging operations were two ex-
divers, by name Frank Bell and A. C.
Colby.

They complained that the main im-
pediment to their operations was the
stirring up of the mud as they tried to
walk on the bottom of the lake. But
finally they hit upon a strange device to
overcome this difficulty. They made an

form alt and every act and thing whatsoever requisite and necessary to be done in and about the premises, as

|. fully to all intents and purposee a te.

might or could do if personally present;

confirming all

in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred ant...

y—-#aid at ONO ne prieen eRe MAHONEY. a
shall lawfully do or cause to be done, vy virtue of these prescntss

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, ...... I. -have _herewnto get... MY hand _ sand wal, the 16th

___.—-hereby ratifying and

1c

The forged power of attorney through which the murderer of Mrs. Mahoney hoped

to get control of her property. But Luke May proved to the entire satisfaction

of the jury that the signature (Kate Mahoney) was a forgery; that it had been
written by someone in cahoots with the killer

under-sea sled frc
turned up runne
these runners wi
line, which, when
ahead, made it I
stand on a cross-
In front of the
which dragged in ;
was unobscured.
divers, searched
day.
On the afternox
two months hay
operations started
denly sighted a
neath his feet, ]
stop the boat, bu
done the sled had
the thing which (
boat turned about
not again be founc
_ Not many minut
tin Cammon, on
sighted a trunk fi
A line was attache
was notified. Thi
aboard and opened
body of a woman, |
away with lime.
with heavy hemp 1
“That can’t be m
when notified of t]
uba. It’s a plant
police plant.”

Te trunk had pn
spot where Bal!
find it. It was the fir
checked out, and hi
calculations had gon

An autopsy reve:
honey, for it was sh
teeth, had first been
twenty grains of m
of a beefsteak jin hy
been hit on the head
ment which left a ro

eames te OE
CAUGHT AT
Left to right: Deput
the elusive criminal,
the murder horror
who wasn’t quite qu
outsmart a tireles


ter in question is &
ich lies between the
ersity Bridges and is
iy, a connecting pas-
e Union and Lake
inuing his investiga-
-- Ballard came across
eorge Shepherd, who
me valuable informa-

guy in a boat which
him,” said the youth.
line and as he went
he kept letting 1t up |
a weight on it. I told
tch fish that way, but

Ballard had his own
that tall man in the
e believed he was tak-
da deep spot in which
joned round-top trunk
‘en crowded the body
uring as to the exact
yunding had occurred,
‘ened back to head-

ght a fellow in here
‘trunk down to the lake
honey take it out in a
ard. “Would you be-
ok mystery then?
ind to have Kate Ma-.
ink, aren’t you Chad,
Tenant. “But if you
) go on I'll get the pa-

ake,” answered Ballard.
"tee feet of where we

jig’s up.” Captain Ten-
SWe'll have the trunk
d Mahoney, still smil-
vil get will be some fine
d you.”
ring the end of the first
The twenty-four hours
he trunk was not found.
passed without results.
and his trunk mareny
oke to the reporters. |
aaitik until we find it if
said Tenant, now thor-
Chad Ballard had the
he prosecutor supported
1 so did I. ‘
department at en _
operations were two ex-
heel Bell and A. C.

ned that the main 1m-
.eir operations was the
ye mud as they tried to
ttom of the lake. But

upon a strange device to
lifficulty.

They made an

Tae

in and about the premises, as
ould do if personally present;
whereby ratifying and-

{ ome tte tec Scmameaneyrects oti StS

hand....and seat... .the i6th

rand....Tmenty-one...

of Mrs. Mahoney hoped
-o the entire satisfaction
orgery; that it had been
e killer

under-sea sled from scrap iron, with long,
turned up runners, The upper ends of
these runners were fastened to a drag
line, which, when the boat moved slowly
ahead, made it possible for the diver to
stand on a cross-bar which brought him
in front of the portion of the runners
which dragged in the mud ; thus the vision
was unobscured. Taking turns, the two
ane searched on and on, day after
ay.

On the afternoon of August 8th, 1921,

two months having elapsed since the
operations started at the lake, Colby sud-
denly sighted a large object just be-
neath his feet. He gave the signal to
stop the boat, but before that could be
done the sled had bumped heavily over
the thing which Colby had seen. The
boat turned about but the object could
not again be found.
Not many minutes later, however, Mar-
tin Cammon, on the tug-boat Audrey,
sighted a trunk floating on the surface.
A line was attached, and the patrol boat
was notified. The trunk was dragged
aboard and opened. Jn it was the nude
body of a woman, her face partially eaten
away with lime. The trunk was bound
with heavy hemp rope.

“That can’t be my wife,” said Mahoney
when notified of the find, “for she is in
Cuba. It’s a plant, that’s what it is, a
police plant.”

6 tl trunk had not been found at the
spot where Ballard had expected to
find it. It was the first thing which had not
checked out, and he wondered where his
calculations had gone wrong.

An autopsy revealed that Kate Ma-
honey, for it was she, as revealed by the
teeth, had first been poisoned, (there were
twenty grains of morphine and portions
of a beefsteak in her stomach) and had
been hit on the head with a blunt instru-
ment which left a round hole in her skull.

CAUGHT AT LAST!
Left to right: Deputy Joe Hill and
the elusive criminal, responsible for
the murder horror in the trunk,
who wasn’t quite quick enough to
outsmart a tireless detective

True Detective Mysteries

From the position of the body, it ap-
peared this blow had been struck after she
had been crammed into the trunk; Jim
Mahoney had evidently profited by his
first experience. This time he had made
doubly sure his victim would never talk.

Jim Mahoney was charged with the

murder of his wife, and the trial intro-

ducing all the evidence as outlined’ above,

was held in September, 1921.

My testimony was used to establish the
fact that all the signatures on the many
documents which Mahoney had used to
get possession of his wife’s fortune were
forgeries. Chad Ballard’s work had been
done long before Mahoney went to court;
so he did not appear prominently at the
trial, being on the stand only a short time.

Alvin Jorgensen, from the witness-stand,
identified Mahoney as the man for whom
he had hauled the trunk,

E: K. Boyd testified to the purchase of
the hemp rope and the line.

“He had. them charged to his wife,”
said Boyd as he produced the sales slip
to back up his words.

The defense contended that the woman
in the trunk was not Kate Mahoney, and
that.she had been seen alive after April
sixteenth. They insisted that she was
still alive, but the jury did not believe
this fantastic tale. They found the ac-
cused man guilty and sentenced him to
hang. Jim Mahoney had planned a per-
fect crime, but it had crumpled up on
him; now he feigned insanity.

And while he waited in his death cell
at Walla Walla, his sister Dolores John-
ston, went on trial for the forgery of the
power of attorney. I was called upon
to show the result of the scientific analy-
sis which I had made of her standard
writing in comparison with the forged sig-
nature. This I did for the benefit of
the jury with the aid of several large
photo-micrographs, showing the signature
of the power of attorney to be in her
handwrting. She was convicted and sen-
tenced to five years in the woman’s ward
of the same penitentiary where her
brother awaited hanging.

The date of Jim Mahoney’s execution
was set for November 30th, 1921; on the
night before the morning that he was to
die, Dolores Johnston made a futile at-
tempt to save his life by confessing to the
murder herself. But even Jim Mahoney
refused to let her take the blame; he
made a confession in which he said he had
struck his wife on the head after a quar-
rel—a confession which was probably only
partially true since he did not admit the
administration of the poison.

OLSTERED with whisky Jim Ma-
honey went to his death in the early
hours of that November morning. He
kept his nerve until the gallows was
reached, then his knees started to cave
under him. State Parole Officer Howard
Shattuck quickly adjusted the cap, the
belt, the noose. The heels of two guards
came down on _ two buttons, either of
which tripped the trap, and the long, still
form of Jim Mahoney swung from the
noose, In ten minutes he was pronounced
dead.

I asked Detective Chad Ballard to come
to my office while I was preparing this
story with my collaborator, in order
that there might be no mistake about the
details of the solution of this infamous
crime. As he came through the door I
noticed that he had in his hand a pack-
age from which he unwrapped a heavy
iron object shaped like a billy-club.
Closer observation revealed it was a
mineralogist’s pestle.

“What’s that?” asked my secretary.

“That’s what Jim Mahoney hit Kate

97

Did You Ever
Take an
Internal Bath?

This may seem a Strange question. But if you
want to magnify your energy—sharpen your brain
to razor edge—put a glorious sparkle in your eye
—pull yourself up to a health level where you
can glory in vitality—you’re going to read this
message to the last line.

What is an Internal Bath?

Some understand an internal bath to be an
enema. Others take it to be some new-fangled
laxative. Both are wrong. A real, genuine, true
internal bath is no more like an enema than a
kite is like an airplane. The only similarity is
the employment of water in each case. And so
far as laxatives are concerned, rule them out of
your life.

A bona-fide internal bath is the administration
into the intestinal tract of pure, warm water,
Tyrrellized by a marvelous cleansing tonic. The
appliance that holds the liquid and injects it is
the J.B.L. Cascade, the invention of that eminent
physician, Dr. Charles A, Tyrrell, who perfected
it to save his own life. ow, here’s where the
genuine internal bath differs radically from the
enema.

The lower intestine, called by the great Professor
Foges of _Vienna “the most prolific source of
disease,” is five feet long and shaped like an
inverted U—thus 9. The enema cleanses but
a third of this “horseshoe,” or to the first bend.
The J.B.L. Cascade treatment cleanses it the
entire length—and does it effectively. You have
only to read that booklet “Why We Should
Bathe Internally” to fully understand how the
Cascade does it—without pain or discomfort,

Why Take an Internal Bath?

Here is why: The intestinal tract is

canal of the body. the waste

ue to our soft foods, lack
Ci) Vigorous — exercise,
and highly artificial civ.
ilization, a large per-
centage of persons suf.
fer from intestinal
Stasis (delay), The
Passage of waste is entirely
too slow. Result: Germs
and poison breed in this
waste and enter the blood
through the blood vessels
in the intestinal walls.
These poisons are extremely
insidious, and may be an
important contributing
cause to the headaches you
get—the skin flemishes—
the fatigue—the mental
sluggishness—and — suscepti-
bility to colds—and count-
less other ills, They may
also be an important factor
in the cause of premature
old age, rhematism, high
blood pressure, and many
serious maladies.
Thus it is imperative that your system be free of these
poisons, and internal bathing is an effective means. In
fifteen minutes it flushes the intestinal tract of impurities
—auick hygienic action. And each treatment tends to
strengthen the intestinal muscles so the passage of waste
is hastened.

The lower intestine, 4 to 6
feet long, where poisons
generate and are absorbed
into the blood stream.

Immediate Benefits

Taken just before retiring you will sleep like a child.
with a vigor that is

colds, ete.
Is that fifteen minutes worth while?

Send for this Booklet

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woo TEAR OFF AND MAIL AT ONCE ——.,

| tyrrett’s Hygienic Institute, Ine., l
| 152 West 65th St., Dept. 2103, New York, N. Y. |

| Send. me, without cost or obligation, your illustrated |
booklet on intestinal ills and the Proper use of the

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| ternally.’’

Mahoney with,” said Ballard. “TI took it

I
| PIMOS 0699S ee cess avicecessitensctavdcesennvieces |
| WOON LS oo Sin Chis cadinbies coneseeepevecacecerececcsacys
PONE aks ceceelecscesecees State............ 00, |


Irene

Ford Mahoney: Seattle

detectives

cleared up one mystery when she was located

Hoping to hear from you soon,
your Auntie, Kate Mahoney. P. S.
Jimmie is writing for me as I
sprained my wrist a day ago get-
ting out of a car. Will write you
again soon.

Ballard looked up from the letter.
“It explains why it isn’t in her hand-
writing.”

“Who is the Mrs. Atkinson she re-
fers to in the letter?” Tennant asked.

“T don’t know. I have never heard
of her before. That is what makes it
sound so strange, talking about some-
one I don’t know without explaining
who they are.”

Tennant. turned to Ballard. “Mrs.
Stewart doesn’t like the tone of it. She
is afraid that Mahoney may have
done away with her aunt so that he
can have control of the estate. It is
worth close to five hundred thousand
dollars.”

Ballard raised an eyebrow at the
figure. “You can bet that Jim Ma-
honey will get it sooner or later,” he
said grimly. “But I would judge that

24

he is playing smart this time by mar-
rying the woman and setting himself
in solid for the time she dies. He
would be foolish to do anything else.”

“Unless he ‘tried to hasten her
pga Mrs. Stewart declared, point-

y.
“You don’t like Jim Mahoney, do
you?” Chief Tennant smiled as he put
the question to Mrs. Stewart.

“Definitely not! I could tell from
the first that he was after her money.
If he has harmed her, I hope you can
catch him in the deed.”

NNNANT shook his head. “I'll agree
with you that he married her for her
money, but that isn’t a situation that
we can handle. However, I will prom-
ise you that we will make an investi-
gation. Not because of any evidence
that we have, but because the man is
Jim Mahoney. I know he is a bad
character and we'll check up and see
what we can find out.”
Extracting a promise from Chief
Tennant that he would keep her in-
formed, Mrs. (Stewart left the office.

Siti
TOM,

As the door closed behind her, Bal-
lard turned to Tennant, “I didn’t want
to ask while she was here, but is this
Mrs. Kate Mahoney, or Kate Mooers,
the same old gal whom I’ve heard
about in—”

Tennant nodded. “That’s her. There’s
few people in the West who haven’t
heard about her, She started out as
Kate Sholtz. As Kate Keiler, I guess
everybody in Montana knew about her
famous dance halls in Butte and Ana-
conda. They were plenty tough in
those rough mining towns and Kate
Keiler knew how to run them to get
the most returns from them,

“Later she became very respectable
and moved to Vancouver, Washington.
She married a nineteen-year-old kid,
and she was no chicken by that time.
She put him through medical college
and made a doctor out of him.

“The doctor went to Alaska and
made good. He divorced Kate, mak-
ing a generous settlement. The old girl
invested her money shrewdly until
she is one of the wealthiest women in

Montana, to Seattle on the train when
he struck up an acquaintance with a
stranger.

The following morning the porter
found Fingall near death in his berth
from being drugged and beaten over
the head. Fingall’s purse with $405
was missing. The boy was taken to a
hospital in Spokane, where by good
fortune and good medical care he re-
covered. Later Fingall identified Jim
Mahoney as his attacker.

Because of the brutal way Mahoney
had beaten the youth and nearly
killed him with the drug, the judge
sentenced Mahoney to a sentence of
from five to 20 years in the State
Penitentiary at Walla Walla.

HROUGH the efforts of his mother,

Mrs. Norah Mahoney, and his sister,
Dolly Johnson, they persuaded Gov-
ernor Hart to pardon him at Christ-
mas time.

Because of this background, Chief
of Detectives Tennant was willing to
make an investigation.

Mrs. Norah Mahoney: She helped persuade
a governor to give a Christmas pardon

this town. I understand she has a
collection of diamonds worth a for-
tune.”

Ballard said: “Well, I think Kate
ought to be smart enough to keep Jim
Mahoney in line.”

“Maybe not,” Tennant declared.
“She’s getting old, and with that
smooth line of Jim’s, he probably is
soft-soaping her right out of her
boots. We'll check on it and see what
the scoré is, anyhow. You see what
you can locate here and I’ll wire St.
Paul to give them the ‘once-over’
there.”

The police first had come in con-
tact with Jim Mahoney about three
years previously. A youth named El-
mer Fingall was riding from Missoula,

Late on the afternoon following
Mrs. Stewart’s visit to Headquarters,
Chad Ballard walked into his Chief’s
office.

“T’ve got a little dope on the Ma-
honey affair,” he announced. “They
were married, all right, on February
10. They apparently left for the East
on April 17.”

‘It is now May 11,” Tennant added.
“They’ve been gone a little over three
weeks.”

“TI don’t think Kate Mahoney knows
that her new hubby is a crook,” Bal-
lard said. “From what I could learn,
his sister, Dolly Johnson, who worked
for Mrs. Mahoney, or Kate Mooers as
she was known then, at the New Baker
Hotel, introduced him to Kate as an


caused them to fear for

inventor from the East. He is sup-
posed to have a new kind of an air
brake for Pullman cars.”

Tennant smiled. “Well, you can’t
blame the guy for not telling her he’s
an ex-con. I guess there isn’t much
else to do but wait for St. Paul to wire
us on what they find out. I didn’t
think we’d locate anything wrong,
but—”

“I’m not so sure,” Ballard announced.
“I found something that doesn’t look
too good.”

“What?”

“T checked around the neighborhood,
asking the neighbors when they left,
and I happened to talk to a clerk
named E. K. Boyd in the hardware
store on the corner. He said that on
the fourteenth, he sold Mahoney
thirty feet of new rope and five pounds
of quicklime.” :

a ine rope could be used for tying up
their trunks,’ Tennant said slowly.
“But the quicklime—”

“We've both seen that stuff work
before,” Ballard added grimly. “It
makes a mess of a body, doesn’t it?
You don’t suppose—”

A knock sounded on the office door.
The division clerk stuck his head in-
side the room. f

“Telegram from St. Paul,” he an-
nounced.

Tennant took the message, ripping
open the envelope.

“It’s from Herman Vall, chief of

James
plant plans of a world trip In the

minds

Mahoney:

of

his

What clew found by relatives in this letter, above and right,
Kate Mooers Mahoney’s safety?

Why did he

bride’s

friends?

detectives in St. Paul,” he said, read-
ing it aloud. “‘James Mahoney and
wife registered here at the St. Francis

Hotel on April 22. Checked out the’

following day. Traced baggage to
Duluth, where it was called for but
have been unable.to trace it further.’ ”

Ballard said: “Well, that sort of
shoots any theory we might have that
Mahoney did anything to his elderly
bride. If they arrived in St. Paul
okay, I guess—”

“Hold it a minute.” Tennant stopped
him. “There’s more to this wire. It

Mrs. Carrie Hewitt: She feared the worst
when she queried police and brought
along a letter from the missing bride

says: ‘Woman who registered as his
wife is much younger than woman
you described. Mrs. Mahoney, accord-
ing to hotel clerk, was not over thirty-
five or forty years old.’”

“My gosh!” Ballard exclaimed.
“Kate looks younger than her seventy-
two years, but she couldn’t pass for
anything under sixty.”

Tennant drummed his finger-tips on
the desk. “So, Jim Mahoney is on a
honeymoon ... but the woman who
is his bride is only thirty-five years

(Continued on Page 36)

25

even tones but ice came into each
word. ‘We may make it our business.”

Mahoney looked into Tennant’s
flint-gray eyes. Their hardness had
melted tougher men than Mahoney.

“Tt still isn’t any of your business,”
Mahoney said, weakening, “but if you
must know, I’m going to meet her in
New York.”

“When?”

“She’s in Cuba for a while. As soon
as I get some business straightened out
here, we are going to meet in New
York and go for a trip. It will prob-
ably be a couple of weeks.”

“Where can we find her now?”

“T don’t know. If you wait you will
find her at the Irving Hotel, 26
Gramercy Park South, New York City.
That is where she is going to wait
for me.”

Tennant thanked Mahoney and left.

“What do you make of it?” Ballard

asked anxiously as they left the apart-
ment.
- “He is plenty confident. We may be
all wet in thinking anything has hap-
pened to Kate. At any rate, we’ll have
to wait for developments. You keep
him covered for a couple of days.”

Chad Ballard practically lived with
Mahoney, although Mahoney was un-
aware of it. He followed him to the
William P. Perkins & Company in the
Alaska Building.

On a phone he reported to Tennant:

“Mahoney just went into Kate’s
safety-deposit box. I don’t know what
he got, but he had the proper creden-
tials to get in. That means Kate still
must be alive—else how could Ma-
honey get her signature? Or is it
forgery?”

EXT, Ballard followed him to Wil-
ton & Nirk, who handled Mrs. Ma-
honey’s affairs.

To Tennant, Ballard phoned:

“Mahoney presented a power of at-
torney document. He has taken every-
thing out of the company’s hands and
informs them he is going to dispose of
her property.”

“Get them to turn the document
over to you and send it right in,” Ten-
nant told him. “I want to start com-
paring some signatures. It’s about time
we gave Mahoney the business—his
actions certainly are suspicious.”

Ballard went to E. J. Nirk, who
gladly cooperated with the police by
turning over the document.

Another call from Ballard to Ten-
nant brought the information:

“Mahoney has turned over the New
Baker Hotel to his sister, Dolly John-
son. His mother has the apartment in
the Sofia and he has put up several
houses that Kate owned for sale.”

“Keep a close eye on him,” Ten-
nant ordered. “I’ve got John Flint, the
handwriting expert, going over the
documents.”

At three o’clock the following after-
noon, Ballard called his Chief again.

“You'd better come up here right
away. Mahoney is going to leave. He
took Kate’s car out of the garage. I
talked to Edward Christie, who runs
the garage, and he told me Mahoney
had it all fixed up and told him he is
going on a long trip. Mahoney is put-
ting his luggage in the car now.”

“T’ll be right there.”

Within a few minutes Tennant
showed up with Deputy Prosecutor
T. H. Patterson.

“The only way we can stop him is to
arrest him,” Ballard said.

“Then we'll arrest him,’ Tennant
said.

“On what charge?”

“Forgery.”

“Were those documents forged?”

“J don’t know. Flint hasn’t been
able to determine yet. But Mahoney
isn’t going to get away until we find
Kate.”

“You are running a big risk,’ Pat-
terson warned. “Legally, he’ll have
you over a barrel if you are wrong.”

“Morally, Pat, that guy belongs in
jail whether Kate is alive or not. He
was sent up for a five-to-twenty-year
rap and a soft-hearted governor lets
him serve two years. A couple of days
in jail won’t hurt him.”

“T’m not thinking of him,” Patterson
said. “I’m thinking of you. You are

AD—4

: eaiiibeiihinaiaaadak tenet

running a big chance taking things
in your own hands.”

“T’ll take that chance,” Tennant de-
clared.

As Mahoney came down the stairs
of the apartment with a suitcase in his
hands to put into the car, Tennant
stepped out from where he had been
waiting beside the building.

“Mahoney, unless you can tell me
where I can get in touch with Kate
this minute, you are under arrest.”

“You can’t arrest me!’ Mahoney
barked.

“Maybe this will convince you that
I can,” Tennant said, snapping hand-
cuffs on his wrists.

Mahoney was led back to the apart-
ment. The detectives searched the

have a reply back on the query to
Chattanooga authorities.

“Mrs. Irene Ford-Mahoney here and
safe. Says she is not divorced from
Mahoney but will not press bigamy
charges.”

After hearing the information, Pat-
terson warned: “Your case is crum-
bling, Tennant. You are on thin ice in
this thing. If Kate Mahoney shows up
alive and well, you are going to be
in a plenty tough spot.”

Where was Kate Mahoney?

Tennant and Ballard tried to figure
out where she could be.

“Suppose Mahoney killed her, like

we suspect,” Tennant said, “where ’

would her body be?” :
“My idea is that she would be in

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.

place, where they found a sack filled
with Kate’s diamonds and $1,600 in
cash.

“How did you get these diamonds?”
Tennant demanded.

“Kate gave them to me.”

“You are lying. Kate wouldn’t part
with those diamonds to anyone.”

“oo gave them to me to keep for
her until I meet her in New York.”

“Where is Kate now?”

A smirk played on Mahoney’s face.
“To the Devil with you.” He cursed.
“You are so confounded smart arrest-
ing me, just go ahead with your fun.
When you are through, I’ll have some
fun myself. I’ll sue you and see that
I get your job, smart guy. When you
are through with me, you’ll never ar-
rest anybody else.”

Mahoney was taken to Headquar-
ters, where Tennant, Ballard and Pat-
terson spent the entire evening ques-
tioning him. They were able to get an
answer to only one of their questions.

“Where is your first wife?” Tennante
asked him.

“She’s probably with her folks,” Ma-
honey answered.

“Where?”

“In Chattanooga, Tennessee. Why
don’t you check there and find out? I
suppose you think I killed her, too?”

“We'll find out,” Tennant promised.

It was a shock the next morning to

the trunk with that missing baggage,”
Ballard said. “Remember the rope
and quicklime? He could have put her
in a trunk and hoped that the quick-
lime would erase her identity before
it was found. The man’s got nerve—
and confidence.”

“The last we were able to trace the
baggage was to Duluth. Gosh only
knows where it is now. Mahoney may
beat us on this case because we won't
be able to find the body, but I’m
becoming more and more convinced
that Kate is dead. If she was alive,
we’d hear from her.”

“We've got to find the trunks,” Bal-
lard said with determination.

Mahoney’s mother and sister ar-
ranged for lawyers and proceedings
were started to free Mahoney.

Days passed while Mahoney’s law-
yers prepared to go to court and fight
for his release.

“Chad, what are we going to do?”
Tennant asked Ballard.

“T’ve checked everything,’ Ballard
said. “Until we can find out what he
did with those trunks he picked up
in Duluth, we won’t get any place.
I’m sure Kate is in one of those trunks
—but only Mahoney knows where the
trunks are.”

“And he’s not telling,’ Tennant
added.

Patterson came in just before noon.
“We've got to be in court at one-

thirty to show cause why we should
hold Mahoney in jail. Got any evi-
dence to present?”

“Confound lawyers!” Tennant snort-
ed. “If they get Mahoney out, they
are turning a murderer loose on So-
ciety.”

Tennant was just preparing to have
Mahoney taken to the courthouse at
one-fifteen when Ballard came burst-
ing into the room breathlessly.

“What’s up?” Tennant asked.

“I’ve got it,’ Ballard gasped, drop-
ping into a chair.

“Got what?”

“What happened to Kate!”

“What?” Tennant leaped out of his
chair. “What are you saying?”

“It’s like this,” Ballard said, getting
his breath. “I went down to check
on the baggage that Mahoney sent
back East. There were two trunks and
a couple of suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Tennant agreed. “We got
that from St. Paul. What’s new about
that?”

“Then, I checked at the apartment.
Mahoney had three trunks. One of
them was a small trunk with a round
top.”

“Three trunks?”

“Yes. I already had checked with
the baggage man who took the trunks
to the depot, so I thought I had cov-
ered the ground. But there were two
baggage men.”

“Two baggage men?”

“That’s right. One of them took the
stuff to the train on the morning of
the seventeenth. The other one picked
up a trunk on the evening of the
sixteenth.”

“Where did he take it?”

“The expressman was Alvin Jorgen-
son of the Seattle Transfer Company
at Number Five Harrison Street. I
just talked to him. He remembered
taking a trunk with a round top—
bound with new rope—from Mahoney’s
apartment at ten o’clock on the night
of April sixteenth.”

“But where did he take it?” Tennant
cried, anxiously,

“To 1415 Eastlake Avenue North.”

There was a moment’s silence, then:

“Lake Union! That’s on the shore
of Lake Union!” Tennant shouted.

“Exactly,” Ballard grinned. “And
I’ve a burning-hot idea why he sent
a trunk to that address.”

i bots office door opened and a detec-
tive poked his head in.

“I’ve got Mahoney ready to take to
court,” he said.

“Bring him in,” Tennant said. Then,
to Ballard, “You watch him a minute.
I’ve got something to attend to.”

Outside of the office, Tennant called
several of his men together.

“We've got a hot lead on this case,
boys,” he told them. “I’m not going to
take Mahoney to court. We are taking
him out with us. When those lawyers
come over here from the court, tell
?em_ nothing.”

“They'll get you for contempt of
court,” one of the detectives warned.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Ten-
nant said grimly. ‘Remember, you
don’t know where we've gone and you
don’t know when we'll be back.”

A few minutes later Tennant, Bal-
lard and Mahoney were speeding to
Lake Union on the north side of the
city, while in Superior Court attor-
neys were crying that Tennant had
kidnaped their client.

As the detectives’ car pulled up in
front of the address, they saw a sign:
“Howard And Sons, Boats For Rent.”

With Mahoney between them, they
walked into the big shed where the
boats were stored.

“Hey, Mr. Glassford!’” The proprie-
tor of the place walked up to Mahoney.
“Why didn’t you bring my boat back?
I found it down the lake where you
left it. You said you were going to
rent it for a week but would bring it
back.”

“Did Mr. Glassford rent a boat from
you?” Tennant asked.

Howard, the boatman, nodded.

“When?”

“Along about the middle of April.
Said he only wanted it a week, but he
never brought it back.”

“You are crazy!’ Mahoney snapped.

37

good. For the first time, I know for
certain that Weldon was in Joplin.
And I know he knew Mrs. Tousley in
Kansas City and went to Joplin be-
cause she was there.”

One thing else the veteran police
detective knew. He knew Weldon had
a police record.

Before leaving Wichita he wired the
FBI for Weldon’s record, finger-print
classification and all, to be sent to
Joplin.

He arrived home tired but trium-
phant. Gibson met him at the train. He
said, “Any luck, Chief?”

“Lots of it. You?”

“Well, we got that tramp—patched
eye and all.”

“I’m certain now he had nothing to
do with it. But hold him. Vag him.
Meantime, take this picture to Mrs.
Hauspire and Mrs. Hughes. Ask them
if it’s the mysterious Fred they saw.”

He knew the answer, but when Billy
Gibson affirmed it a short time later,
he knew he was getting his case built
up. But there was more to do—the
bloody shirt, for one thing. The jlaun-
dry mark, trade name and a sample of
the cloth were sent to Emporia, Kan-~
sas. Two days later, Portley knew the
shirt once had been worn by Fred Wel-
don—the laundry mark was traced to
his name.

But where was Fred Weldon?

Portley thought that part wouldn’t
be hard. With the record from Wash-
ington in his possession, he caused
thousands of “wanted” circulars to be
printed. These were mailed through-
out the country to all peace officers.

The house of every known relative
of Fred Weldon’s was put under guard.
There was little to do now but wait.

"The Bride

old. It looks like we are going to have
to find Jim Mahoney and find out how
come Kate looks so young all of a
sudden. Remember, the bride was
seventy-two—but she had dough.”

“The baggage!”’ Ballard cried. “You
don’t suppose he could have knocked
off Kate and put her in a trunk. We
know that he bought some rope and
quicklime. If he’s got another woman,
he must have done something with
Kate.”

“If he did, we are in for one Hell
of a time,’ Tennant said seriously.
“Imagine trying to find a trunk he has
carted half-way across the country
for three weeks. Gosh only knows
where it is by this time. I’ll check
right away with Duluth and see what
they can find out about Jim Mahoney
and his bride who is too young for
her age.”

“T’l] see if I can locate any friends
who may have heard from them,”
Ballard promised.

The next morning, Ballard went to
the Sofia Apartments at No. 409 Denny
Way, where Mahoney and his elderly
bride had lived. Mr. and Mrs. Frank
Matthews told him they had seen Jim
and Kate making preparations for
their trip on the evening of April 16.
Mrs. George Keitte, across the street,
also had seen the couple on the six-
teenth and they had told her they
were leaving the next morning.

Ballard learned that one of Mrs.
Mahoney’s closest friends was her
dentist, Doctor Frank B. Woods.

“They came in here on the morn-
ing of the sixteenth,’ Doctor Woods
told Ballard. “Mrs. Mahoney told me
they were going East so that Jim could
dispose of his patents. They planned
to go on a honeymoon around the
world. Kate showed me her diamonds.
She said she was taking them and
fifteen hundred dollars to buy clothes
with in New York.”

Ballard said nothing to the Doctor,
but the thought ran through his mind
that Jim Mahoney might have had a
very good idea in planting the infor-
mation that they were going around
the world so that no one would be--
come suspicious when Mrs. Mahoney
-a not return from the trip in the

ast.

36

But the waiting was slow — took
longer than Chief Portley had thought.
He pictured Weldon, a frightened, be-
wildered punk killer, fleeing in every
direction at once. Surely he would
come under police notice soon.

Actually but two weeks passed when
that happened. C. M. Ezell, Chief of
Police at Marshall, Texas, picked up a
suspicious character for “investiga-
tion.” The man called himself Robert
Jackson. He acted so strangely, was so
nervous, that Chief Ezell checked him
with the “wanted” files. It was Fred
Weldon.

Weldon became defiant. “I didn’t do
anything,” he declared. “I know what
they’ll claim, but I was in Fort Scott,
Kansas, when I read about Mrs. Tous-
ley being killed. They’ll never take
me back to Missouri. I’ll fight to the
last ditch.”

That was on January 20. Ezell called
District Attorney Ray E. Watson in
Joplin. He said, “I’ve got your man
down here—that Fred Weldon. He says
he’s going to fight to keep from going
back.”

“You hold on to him,” Watson said.
“He won't fight very long.”

Watson immediately got in touch
with Governor Guy B. Park of Mis-
souri, asking for extradition papers.
Park sent the papers to Governor Mir-
iam Ferguson of Texas, who honored
them at once and returned them to the
District Attorney at Joplin. The Dis-
trict Attorney sent Constable: W. H.
Ford and Desk Sergeant Fred Serage
to Marshall after Weldon.

So on the third day of February, just
29 days after the crime, Fred Weldon
was booked in Joplin on a first-degree
murder charge.

Was 72 — But She

Throughout the day, Ballard con-
tinued to check on every angle of the
affair. He reported to Chief Tennant
late in the evening.

“Haven’t heard from Duluth yet,”
Tennant informed him. “It likely
means that Duluth has not been able
to locate him.”

“I’ve got something,” Ballard de-
clared. “And it looks plenty bad. I
talked to Attorney C. Dell Floyd.”

“What does he know about it?”

ME AAROURY was married once be-
fore.”

“Married before? I didn’t know that
he had—”

“Neither did I. And what is more,
his first wife has been missing for a
long time.”

“What?”

“Attorney Floyd gave me the dope.
Mahoney married a_ wealthy girl
named Irene G. Ford in St. Paul. He
brought her to Seattle and had her
sign the power of attorney to him so
that he could handle all of her affairs.
A short time later, his wife started a
divorce suit. She told Floyd that Ma-
honey tried to strangle her one after-
noon while they were out for a boat
ride. She screamed and some people
came to her rescue. She was afraid
that Mahoney was going to kill her
and that is why she started the di-
vorce proceedings.”

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing. The girl just disappeared.
The proceedings were never finished.
Attorney Floyd said that he had some
communication with the girl’s father,
a physician, asking about what had
happened to his daughter, but the case
was dropped because she couldn’t be
located.”

Tennant gave a low whistle through
his teeth. “This is beginning to look
like a first-class ‘Blue Beard’ case,”
he mumbled. “We’ve got to find
Mahoney—and quick!”

Mrs. Carrie Stewart appeared in
Tennant’s office with another woman
the following morning.

“This is Mrs. Carrie Hewitt, an-
other niece of Kate’s.” Mrs. Stewart
introduced the woman.
a letter from Kate while they were
traveling through Montana...

“She received

and it

Portley talked to him at once. “You
ran me a mean race, Fred,” he said,
“put your running days are over.”

Fred Weldon sneered. He said, “You
got a lot of crust, Copper. You got
nothing on me and you know it. I
didn’t kill Mother Tousley. She was
my best friend. I wasn’t even in the
state when she was killed.”

“You knew she was dead?”

‘“Sure. I read about it in Fort Scott.”

“Then if she was your best friend,
why didn’t you come back here—why
did you run?”

“I got a record and I know how you
guys think.”

“We were thinking about you, Fred,
a long time before we knew you had a
record.”

“Yeah? Well, did you know about
that tramp Mother Tousley had trouble
with? Why didn’t you get him and ask
him a question or two?”

“We know all about him, Fred. And
we know about you. You came down
here from Kansas City for one reason
only: To rob Mother Tousley. When
you got in here, you knew where she
lived. You asked a man named Collins
for a good place to stay. He told you
two good places. You knew he would
tell you about Mother Tousley, or you
would have acted surprised when he
mentioned her name. You’d have acted
surprised because you’d known her in
Kansas City and you would have been
surprised—if you hadn’t known she
lived a couple blocks from that garage.

“T don’t think you came down here
to kill her, Fred. But you fed that
tramp just to bring him into the pic-
ture. You knew the house was going
to be robbed that day. You wanted a
suspect, made to order. You got one.

“You left the house after that, then
you went back a few hours later and
started prowling. Mother Tousley
came in and caught you. So you killed
her. Isn’t that a fact?”

“I ain’t talking, except I say you
better look that tramp up—or Jack
Steel. He knew she had money.”

“We got ’em both, Fred,” Portley
said quietly. “I been holding the tramp,
just waiting for you to pass the buck.”

FoR the first time, some of Fred Wel-
don’s assurance deserted him. He was
silent a long minute. Finally he said,
“JT ain’t talking any more, Copper.”

Fred Weldon didn’t have to talk.
When he was caught at Marshall,
Texas, he was carrying, among other
things, a thin-bladed knife. The knife
looked bright and clean but Portley
gave it to Pearl Moorman of the Dun-
can Laboratory in Joplin. Minute but
positive traces of dried blood were
found and these, under test, proved to
come into the same classification as the
blood of the murdered woman.

With the bloodstained shirt, the
knife and with the suspect placed on
the scene by several witnesses, the
State of Missouri was ready to go to
trial. The trial started on March 17,
1933, and lasted just two days.

Ably defended, Fred Weldon beat
the first-degree charge but was _con-
victed of second-degree murder. Judge
Wilbur J. Owen at once sentenced him
to 35 years in the Missouri Prison at
Jefferson City, where he still is.

The names Mr. and Mrs. Jack Gree-
ley, Martha Greeley and Jack Steel
are fictitious to avoid embarrassing
innocent persons.

Had Dough" (Continued from Page 25)

isn’t in Kate’s handwriting .. . and
it doesn’t offer the excuse about the
sprained wrist.”

She passed ‘the letter to Tennant.
It read:

“Somewhere in Montana going East-
ward. April 19. My Dear Niece
Carrie: Well we are on our delayed
trip at last and it certainly is a relief
to have the packing and storeing over.
I don’t believe I will ever tackle it
again.

“This trip is going to do me a world
of good. I imagined I disliked travel-
ing but find its just the tonic I have
needed for years and didn’t know it.
Jimmie is writing for me and he keeps
humming ‘The Battle of the Boiling
Water.’ My only worry is, I am afraid
he will get put off the train. ha ha ha.

“We have good traveling compan-
ions. There is the Sweetest old lady,
Mrs. Atkinson and her son. They just
came from Honolulu and are stopping
in St. Paul for a few days then going
to Cuba then to London where their
home is. They are very wealthy and
do you know the poor dear has had
rheumatism in her shoulder for years
and I treated her last night, and this
morning she said I had done her more
good than all the doctors in London
town.

“We might go to Cuba with her. I
can tell better when I see how some
business deals I got pending in St.
Paul. come out.

“We are going to have one good
time and I think I got it coming to
me, don’t you?

“We will stop at the St. Francis
Hotel St. Paul, Minn So you write
me there. Jimmie says Hello & Sends
his best wishes. Love to you and
Arthur Your Auntie, Mrs. J. E. Ma-
honey.”

HE signature was apparently in the

woman’s handwriting.

As Tennant finished reading the let-
ter, he said to Mrs. Stewart: “We are
investigating this case very thorough-
ly. So far we haven’t anything defi-
nite. This letter seems to me to be
authentic, even though Mrs. Mahoney
did not write it, which is understand-
able, for she is seventy-two years old.
The contents seem to be the kind of

a letter that an elderly woman would
write, particularly about the rheuma-
tism of the fellow passenger on the
train.”

“We just want to know that Aunt
Kate is all right,” Mrs. Stewart said.
“We may be wrong, but we would
liké to know for sure.”

“I appreciate your feelings,” Ten-
nant assured the two women. “How-
ever, I am sure that Mrs. Mahoney
was all right at least until she reached
St. Paul. We are checking from that
point on now. I may have some word
for you in the next few days.”

The following morning a wire from
Duluth informed Tennant that Ma-
honey had left there after cashing
four travelers’ checks signed’ by Mrs.
Kate Mahoney. It was believed he had
gone to Willmar, Minnesota.

“Please forward the checks imme-
diately,’ Tennant wired back. He
planned to have them examined for
possible forgeries.

HORTLY after one o’clock in the

afternoon, Ballard came ‘bursting
into Tennant’s office. He was nearly
out of breath.

“What's up?” Tennant asked.

“Mahoney—he’s back in town—
alone!” Ballard gasped. “I just saw
him.”

“Bring him in!” Tennant ordered.
“You should have collared him right
on the spot.”

“On what charge?”

Tennant thought for a moment.
“We'll go up and talk to him. We
haven’t a thing to hold him on. As a
matter of fact, we are foolish spend-
ing as much time ar we are on this
case from the evidence we’ve got.”

The two detectives went to the Sofia
Apartments. Mahoney was there.

“What do you want?” he snarled.

His attitude was definitely hostile.
for he remembered plainly the last
sessions he had had with. the two de-
tectives. “Or are you just snooping
around trying to hound me because
I’ve got a record?”

“We'd like to know the whereabouts
of your wife,” Tennant said without
raising his voice.

“That’s none of your business.”

Tennant’s voice continued in low,

AD—4


-a big,

Ordinarily, Detective Ballard saw

no evil in a simple purchase of lime

and heavy cord... but not when

it was bought by an ex-convict!

' BY ALAN HYND

Taste an axiom in the back rooms
of the police stations that a cop can
make a hundred mistakes but a crim-
inal can ‘make only one. Chad Ballard
was a cop~an outstanding cop. He was
eavy, tough-talking man in

lll:

his middle 40s who was, in January,
1921, the ace of the detective squad
of the Seattle, Washington Police De-
partment. Ballard had, in his time,
made a few mistakes, and he was to
make a few more.

Jim Mahoney—James E. Mahoney—
was one of Detective Ballard’s mis-
takes. Mahoney, 38, was tall, slim,
quick-witted and as handsome as they

come. He was also as mean as they
come. He had been either emerging
from or entering into trouble with the
law all his adult life. Detective Ballard
had nailed Mahoney for armed rob-
bery in 1919 and had the satisfaction
of seeing Handsome tee as they called
him, sent up to Walla Walla for from
five to fifteen years.

Now, in January of 1921, Ballard

.

I i ee

* te Pe
Pace ts

ef


felt himself turning blue in the face
when, looking through the columns of
the Post-Intelligencer, he saw where
Mahoney had somehow wangled a
parole. Mahoney, being a criminal,
was entitled to only one mistake. His
mistake, as it was to turn out, was De-
tective Chad Ballard.

Mahoney was a man who knew his
rights. Ballard spotted him coming out
of a luxurious Seattle apartment house
—the Sophia, on Denny Way—a few
days after his release. “What,” Ballard
wanted to know, “are you doing
around here, Mahoney?”

“Calling on a friend, copper, if it's
any of your business—and it’s none of
your business.”

“I feel like knocking your teeth
right down your throat.”

Mahoney laughed. “I know you do,
copper, but you'd lose your job for a
thing like that.”

Ballard had more to do than tail
the ex-con. But every time he caught
sight of Handsome Jim on the street
he asked himself what Mahoney was
up to. After he had noticed Mahoney
in the vicinity of the Sophia Apart-
ments several times, Ballard ques-
tioned the superintendent of the
place. Jt developed that Mahoney was
calling. on a woman known through-
out the Puget Sound area as Kodiak
Kate.

Kodiak Kate’s actual name was
Katherine Mooers. She was a dumpy
little 54-year-old widow whose hus-
band had left her three million dol-
lars which he had made by gold strikes
in ‘the Klondike. Mrs: Mooers, who
had spent several of her young, im-
pressionable years in Alaska, had an

ipodiy Roehyablablagarirahy'

affinity for loud attire and loud talk.
A series of diamond bracelets clanked
on each arm, and she seemed to pa
deeply her inability to wear more than
one fur coat at a time. Her face was a
virtual mask of make-up, and her hair,
flaming henna, was straight from a
cosmetician’s bottle. The lady's lan-
guage, when she had her hackles up,
was strictly dock-side English, and she
could toss off a jigger of red-eye with
the neat authority of a movie two-
gun man.

It was obvious to Detective Ballard
that Handsome Jim Mahoney's in-
terest in Kodiak Kate was monetary
rather than amatory. Ballard worried
about what might happen to Kodiak
Kate if Mahoney somehow laid hands
on her money. Then he assured him-
self he had nothing to worry about.
Kodiak Kate -was no fool. Quite a
few fiscal-minded gentlemen had
made covetous overtures in the direc-
tion of the lady’s millions and been
cut off at the pockets for their trouble.

Detective Ballard soon realized he
had made a mistake in deciding that
Mahoney would be unable to get next
to Katherine Mover’s bank account.
Handsome Jim appeared with a new
automobile, a gift of the lady, and the
two of them were often seen tearing
through the hills around Seattle.

One day Detective Ballard called
on Kodiak Kate. “I was wondering,”
he said, “if you knew who this fellow
Mahoney was.”

“Certainly. He’s an inventor.”

“An inventor of what?”

“Why, a new air brake. He’s going
to close a deal with the Milwaukee
Railroad for one million dollars.”

“Mahoney’s an ex-criminal. He’s

~ been out of prison less than a month.”

Kodiak Kate’s reaction was hardly
what Detective Ballard expected. She

oured herself a drink, without offer-
ing him one, and downed it. “Now,
Mr. Snooper,” she said, “do you know
what you can do? You can get to hell
out of here—and quick!” Detective
Ballard-had made another mistake.

One day in February, about six
weeks after Mahoney's release from
prison, he and Mrs. Mooers went to
the Seattle City Hall and took out a
marriage ‘license. When Ballard. re-
ceived the news, he felt himself getting
blue in the face again. Kodiak Kate
and the ex-con were married by a jus-
tice of the: peace February 10, 1921.
Pending such time as they departed
on a wedding trip, the two took up
residence in the bride’s quarters in
the Sophia Apartments.

One night Detective Ballard had a
dream. It woke him up in a cold sweat.
He dreamed that he saw Handsome
Jim walking through one of those in-
definite regions encountered in
dreams, carrying the corpse of Kodiak
Kate on his shoulders. he impres-
sion that Ballard had in the dream
was that Handsome Jim had mur-
dered his elderly bride and was going
somewhere to hide the body.

Ballard’s superior officer, Chief of
Detectives Charles Tennant, didn’t
share the detective’s alarm. “You
better lay off shadowing Mahoney so
much, Chad,” advised Chief Tennant,
“or he could charge you with persecut-
ing him.”

Ballard was unimpressed by the ad-
vice. He was so certain that Mahoney
was going to murder his bride that he
became part of the landscape around
the Sophia Apartments. He worked
the day shift—trom 8 in the morning
to 4 in the afternoon—and he spent
practically every night, on his own
time, hanging around the Sophia.

‘There was a hardware store near
the Sophia. It remained open until 9
o'clock each night. One night, about
ten days after his marriage, Mahoney
went into the store. After Mahoney

\left, carrying a large package, the de-
tective went in and asked the proprie-
tor what the ex-con had purchased.
“Ten pounds of quicklime and a hun-
dred feet of rope.”

Quicklime. Rope. Ballard immedi-
ately associated quicklime and rope
with a murder. He telephoned his
superior, Chief Tennant, and com-
municated his suspicions. Chief Ten-
nant laughed. “Chad,” he said, “you're
imagining things. Mahoney could
want the lime and the rope for a gar-
den—the lime for the soil. and the rope
to keep kids and dogs off.”

Lake Union, in Seattle, where divers
finally found the body of the victim.

.

Ballar¢
ouv're 1

who live
dens 1n

Next
detectiv
of a ho
Sophia.
he saw
apartr
hoe an
next |

himse’

sprint
the |
then
aroul
stake
Af
snea
ami}
stru
No\
poc
rop
sol:
ay

New York and ssibly Cuba. An-
other tenant ha noticed Mahoney,
he previous Saturday night,
tside the Sophia. Hand-

were behind the Sophia
Apartments last night, ¢X

a imeonth.”
amining a small garden that early ont

vas hardly
ected. She 1.
hout offer- i my client is cultivating. You standing ou
it. “Now, ' uestioned a hardware dealer some Jim had been peering up an
you know this morning about certain | down the street, apparently waiting
zet to hell i urchases my client made. for someone. Alongside of him was a
Detective i ou see, Mr. Ballard, we trunk and two or three suitcases.
ustake. \ know what is going on.” The “You're absolutely sure he had a
about six detective told himself he had trunk,” said Ballard.
2ase from made another mistake. “Positively.”
s went to Mahoney's lawyer didn't Ballard rushed inta Chief Tennant’s
out a stop with Ballard. He went office. “Maybe we've got grounds to
i pate Te to Chief of Detectives Ten- move against Mahoney now,” he said.
liae Kare nant with his complaint. “Maybe the Parole Board didn’t give
| by ate Tennant called. Ballard, a him permission to travel.” Tennant
Fry 2 close pense friend, on the es the Parole Board. Mahoney
» 1921, official carpet. “Chad,” he ad been given ermission to travel.
departed said, “you've got to leave Hehad said that he and his bride were
took u ——— F . Mahoney alone.” going to California.
arters in A lawyer's complaint that his client wa being “All right,” said Ballard, Phat doesn’t check with what
ersecuted forced Detective Chief Charles “but don’t say I didn’t warn Katherine Mooer told another tenant
rd had a ennant to call off the entire investigation. you. He's going to murder in the Sophia,” said Ballard. “She sai
Id sweat. vat woman sure as hell.” they were going East.”
— : . 7 “What makes you 8° “They could have changed their
bs ose in- Ballard was disappointed. Maybe positive?” plans,” said Chief Tennant.
ies Jn you re right, _ he said. The people “He's after her money. No doubt The [Continued on page 66]
Kodiak who live in the ee keep little gar- about that. She’s pretty careful with :
Muapres- dens in the rear of the place.” her money. He'll have to kill her to '
e dream Next day was Ballard’s day off. The get it.”
ad mur. detective stationed himself on the roof “Pm afraid,” said Chief Tennant
as going” of a house a block in the rear of the = “that what cu say makes sense But
Sophia. Through powerful binoculars we're practically handcuffed, Chad
. he saw Mahoney coming out of the We can't touch that fellow unless he
Chief of apartment house, carrying a spade, 2 violates the law.”
, didn’t hoe and a large ackage. During the On Monday, March 14—a month
W “You i next hour, Handsome jim occupied and four days after the marriage of
oney so himself digging up a patch of ground, Handsome Jim and Kodiak Kate—
ennant, sprinkling something it-no doubt petective Ballard had to go to the
eeeacat: the lime—planting sone seeds, and Sophia Apartments to interview a ten-
‘ then fashioning. 2 protect ve fence ant about a matter that had no con-
; bw ad- around the plot wit small wooden nection whatsoever with Mahoney.
pata stakes and rope. ; While looking over the names 0 the
that he After dark that night, Ballard mail boxes in the vestibule of the
around sneaked up behind the = andex- building, the detective noticed that
worked amined Mahoney's han iwork. He the names of Mahoney and his bride
lorning struck a match and looked at the rope. had been removed. He asked the su-
@ spent Now. he took a penknife from his erintendent why.
is own + pocket and snipped off a iece of the P “They don’t live here no more.”
hia, rope. Next he grabbed a stful of the Bi Jo ac when?” :
e — = soft, oon’ earth and put it in “Since Saturday.” ;
unti a paper bag. a ' “ , "”
—_ ‘Next Neg a checked hala the hard- Where'd they 60?
anone ware dealer. The sample of rope was ‘ “
diciiey the same as that vbich Mahoney had Pe ale *s anmage eee} ged
the de- urchased; the handful of earth con- —jady telling one of the tenants she was
roprie- tained quicklime. Ballard was enraged. going on a long trip. She told me she
chased. He knew that Mahoney had no in- wouldn't be back. The apartment's for
a hun- terest whatsoever in gardening. Ma rent.” _
; honey, knowing he had been shad- “Did they move their furniture?”
amedi- owed, had bought the ropé and quick: “It’s a furnished apartment. The
1 rope lime ss to get a rise out of him. A fyrniture belongs to ws.”
ed his few hours later Ballard received a “where's the automobile she gave
| com- visit from a lawyer~4 lawyer repre- him?”
ahr senting James E. Mahoney: The Jaw “He sold it just before they left.”
ie er was brief and to the point, His Ballard questioned everybody in the
could client had advised him that Ballard puilding. Mrs. ooerssMahoney, as
a gar- was persecuting him. Either Ballard the bride called herself, had men-
rope would cease to shadow Mahoney OF tioned to one tenant that she and her
prong ony bring charges against husband were going to visit relatives
ctive. : ;
e dierd sputtered @ denial. “1 in the Middle West, then proceed to
haven't been interested in Mahoney
divers for some time.” ; : ah
. “Oh yes you have,” said the lawyer. Detective Chad Ballard made every effort
“We have been shadowing you. You #0 save the woman destined for murder.


66

the sentencing of Mabry until after the trial of Bertha Rees.

Two days later that trial began. Bertha held doggedly
to her denial of misconduct. However, Prosecutor Frank
Burton had unearthed a parade of witnesses who had seen
the pair together under the most compromising circum-
stances. Moreover, there were three farmers who had defi-
nitely heard Bertha announce that she wished her husband
were dead.

On the evening of December 12, 1937, twelve citizens of
Patrick County filed back into the jury box and announced
that they found Bertha Recs guilty as charged. However,
they recommended a sentence of only twenty-five years.

Judge Clement excoriated the jury for the leniency of the
sentence. He made his point clear when he later sentenced
Mabry.

Clement said, in part, “The witness’ own evidence
showed that he calmly and deliberately killed Elmer Recs.
The evidence also shows that the defendant was very much
infatuated with this woman'who had seen, perhaps, too
much of the world. Things done and said by a woman ac-
customed to the lights of New York might mean nothing to
her but would very much impress a country youth but 20
years old.

“Since the jury has found Mrs. Recs guilty of being an
accessory before the fact it is, in effect, saying that hers was
the guiding hand that directed the movements of this boy,
and that he was simply the instrument through which the
plan was carried out. It was plain that he was under her
influence and according to the standards set by the jury in

the verdict, I feel that [can not give this boy the death pen-
alty or a life sentence. Since the jury fixed Mrs. Recs’ pun-
ishment at twenty-five years, I therefore fix the sentence of
Elmer Mabry at forty years in the State Penitentiary.”

Immediately after, Elmer Mabry was outraged and in-
dignant. “Why,” he demanded of the sheriff, ‘should she
only get twenty-five years while 1 get forty?”

“Perhaps,” said Mays, “the jury believed part of her
story.” -

“How could they?” Mabry ripped the shirtfrom his arm.
“Look at that brand. And my initials are on her thigh.
Doesn’t that prove that: we were lovers?”

“I guess it does,” said Mays. “If you’d showed that mark
to the jury, Bertha Recs may well have been sentenced to
death.”

“Damn her!” yelled Mabry. “Is it too late to show the
brand now?”

“It’s too late,” said Mays. “And remember if Bertha had
been sentenced to death so would you.”

The youth and the matron were transported to Virginia’s
State Penitentiary. It isn’t quite the way Bertha promised,
nor quite the manner in which Mabry envisioned it. How-
ever, they will spend the major part of their lives together
in a grim building of granite and steel, only fifty odd yards
apart.

aut they shall never see cach other save in their own

tortured memories. And in spite of their vows of undying
love they will remember each other only with bitter and
blinding hatred.

[Continued from page 53]

58 Feet of Rope.

outstanding detective knows more than he sees. Call it a
hunch, call it intuition, call it what you will, but the supe-
rior sleuth has a kind of sixth sense that transcends physical
laws. Detective Chad Ballard was possessed of that sense
in a strong degree. He knew—he knew as certainly as if he
had looked inside the trunk that Handsome Jim Mahoney
had been seen with the night he left—that the body of
Kodiak Kate had been in that trunk.

If a murder had been committed in the Sophia, Ballard
reasoned, there must be some piece of evidence there. Even
a cunning, cock-sure criminal like Mahoney would be
bound to leave something behind. The trick was to find it.

There was nothing in the apartment vacated by the
bride and groom to suggest foul play. Ballard questioned
all the other tenants again. Nobody had heard any sounds
commonly associated with violence. During the questioning
a suspicious fact emerged. Nobody had seen Mrs. Mooers-
Mahoney all day Saturday—the last day of her occupancy
of the apartment. Ballard was quick to surmise that Ma-
honey had murdered the woman sometime during Friday
night, stuffed her in the trunk, and then left with the trunk
on the Saturday night for a destination yet to be deter-
mined. It didn’t strike him as normal for a woman like Mrs.
Mooers-Mahoney not to have been rushing in and out of
the Sophia, bent on last-minute chores, the last day before
her departure on a long trip. But surmise was all Ballard
had.

Then, in back of the apartment house, at the little patch
of ground that Handsome Jim had dug up and planted,
Ballard found something considerably more solid than sus-
picion. He measured the number of feet of rope that Ma-
honey had used to protect his garden plot. Handsome Jim
had used just 42 feet. He had purchased 100 feet. What had
he done with the remaining 58 feet? Ballard was sore at him-
self for not having thought to measure the rope before.

Ballard had another talk with the tenant who had seen
Mahoney standing outside the Sophia on the Saturday

>

night. “That trunk you saw,” he said, “what kind of a trunk
was it?.Old or new? What did it look like?”

“It looked like an old trunk.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It was tied up with rope.”

Ballard snapped his fingers. He returned to the plot of
garden behind the Sophia. He pulled up one of the stakes
with which Mahoney had fashioned his rope fence and
probed the soft earth that the ex-con had dug up. The
digging didn’t extend down very far. Ballard examined the
dirt from the plot. It was flecked with white—the quicklime
—but it didn’t seem to be flecked enough to account for ten
pounds of quicklime. Ballard’s guess was that only a pound
or two of the lime had been distributed in the earth. He
had to make certain.

The earth was analyzed. Less than two pounds of lime
had been mixed with it. That left more than eight pounds
of quicklime—ideal for reducing a body to a state beyond
recognition—to be accounted for.

Ballard was moving slowly. He didn’t want to stub his
toe—not on Mahoney, anyway. He asked the superintendent
of the Sophia if the Mahoneys had left any unwanted be-
longings behind—a bag containing some eight pounds of
quicklime, for example. Yes, the Mahoneys had left a few
odds and ends, but not a bag of quicklime.

Chief Tennant listened in silence to Detective Ballard’s
story of the rope and the quicklime. “Chad,” he said,
“you've been absolutely right all along. Mahoney has mur-
dered Kodiak Kate—and right under our noses, too.”

“I’ve never heard of anything so damned clever,” said
Ballard. ‘“Here’s a man who buys tools for murder right
out in the open and throws us smack off the trail by putting
them to a legitimate use.”

Back in 1921, there was no commercial air lines or long-
distance bus lines. Long trips by private car were somewhat
hazardous, and decidedly uncomfortable. The railroads had

.
*-

sleuth
notict
Lo
travel
Was
~ yeco
had
in *
}
\ eri
to!
\ so

\ fat

oO!


Shootout With The Human Time-Bomb

(continued from page 47)

ing point by domestic altercations..
The “tender” Patrick was reduced to
tears by the death of a pet goldfish
that he had tried to nurse back to
health with gentle care. At the men-
tion of the death of the goldfish, the
defendant’s eyes welled with tears as
he sat in the courtroom.

Weeks into the trial, the defendant
took the stand in his own behalf. He
testified for nearly two fatiguing
hours. He agreed under cross-exami-

nation that he was extremely.

knowledgeable about firearms and
that he was an excellent shot.
“All I knew was they had guns and

that they were coming at me,” he

said.

He described himself as being
“pretty mad at the time” and emotion-
ally upset over the prospects of a di-
vorce after a four week separation
from his wife. He said he saw his
wife standing behind a car and tried
to sight her in the scope on the Win-
chester rifle.

“I’m not really sure why I did
that,” he explained. “I was really
mad. Before I could zero her in,
someone hollered, *‘Freeze!’”

“I could not make out who was
there,” Havard continued. “The per-
son was taller than my wife but I
couldn’t tell another thing. While he
was pushing my wife down, | he
came up with a gun. I could see it
was a gun...I saw what I thought
was a pistol... could see the whole
pistol in his hand...It wasn’t pointed
toward me at the time...I couldn’t
even tell what hand it was in.”

Havard said when someone hol-
lered “freeze” he crouched to put the
rifle down and saw a mysterious
flash coming from the direction
where his wife had been squatting.
He thought: “Someone is shooting at
me...trying to kill me.”

“T just started firing,” he told the at-
tentive jury. “I sprayed the place with
bullets. It happened so fast I just shot
so I could get the hell out of there.

“After the shooting I went back in-
to the apartment to call somebody, but
I didn’t know who to call. So I went
back outside and headed toward my
truck..I saw two people coming to-
ward me from between the apartment
buildings. I could see they were some
kind of authority.”

48

When it had come time for the sum-
ming up, Carter and Lake asked for a
mistrial on Blazek’s failure to provide
them with a copy of an offense report
prepared by Huntsville Police Det.
Frank Hidalgo. Ernst denied the mo-
tion. The two perplexed attorneys
then asked for a mistrial on Blazek’s
introduction of gory color photo-
graphs of the bullet lodged in the slain
officer’s brain. The judge denied that
motion, also.

The jury retired at precisely 9 a.m.
on October 8th. After 55 minutes of
steady deliberation, word was sent
that the jury had reached a verdict.

The verdict: Guilty of the capital
murder of Huntsville Police Officer
Kevin Williams. The conviction car-
ried a mandatory sentence of either
death or life in prison.

The courtroom hushed when Pat-
rick Harvard took the stand during the
penalty phase of the case on October
10th.

“Any person has a chance to reha-
bilitate himself no matter what he’s
done,” Havard sobbed. “I think I can
be rehabilitated. I don’t think I’d be a
threat to society. I feel sorry for the
Williams family, but there’s nothing I
can do to change what happened.”

Havard’s testimony followed an
emotional plea from his elderly moth-
er to spare her son’s life and testimo-
ny from a local psychologist who said
he didn’t believe Havard would be a
threat to society if he were to even-
tually be paroled.

When it comes to cop-killers, Tex-
as jurors fight fire with gasoline. Af-
ter two hours of deliberation, they re-
turned with the verdict and Judge
Ernst immediately sentenced Havard
to death.

The prisoner had no response to the
sentencing and Ernst ordered that he
be delivered to the Texas Depart-
thent of Correction where he now
awaits a sentencing date from the
Criminal Court of Appeals. In the
meantime Havard says he is making
the best of a bad situation.

“I pass the time by sleeping and
exercising. I do 1,000 sit-ups, 1,500
push-ups and 2,000 jumping jacks a
day,” he said.

A self-described outdoorsman, Ha-
vard said he finds it hard to believe he
is really on death row. He peers out
the barred windows in the visiting
room and gestures to the countryside
where he says he used to go hunting
and fishing with his dad.

“I'd sit out there in the fields and
look over at this prison, and I’d think,
boy, I'll never be over there. Look at
me now.” *

Case Of The Bootlegged Body

(continued from page 9)

dream. It woke him up in a cold
sweat. He dreamed that he saw
Handsome Jim walking through one
of those indefinite regions encoun-
tered in dreams, carrying the corpse
of Kodiak Kate on his shoulders. The
impression that Ballard had in the
dream was that Handsome Jim had
murdered his elderly bride and was
going somewhere to hide the body.

Ballard’s superior officer, Chief of
Detectives Charles Tennant, didn’t
share the detective’s alarm. “You bet-
ter lay off shadowing Mahoney so
much, Chad,” advised Chief Tennant,
“or he could charge you with perse-
cuting him.”

Ballard was unimpressed by the
advice. He was so certain that Maho-
ney was going to murder his bride
that he became part of the landscape
around the Sophia Apartments. He
worked the day shift—from 8 in the

morning to 4 in the afternoon—and he
spent practically every night, on his
own time, hanging around the So-
phia.

There was a hardware store near
the Sophia. It remained open until 9
o’clock each night. One night, about
ten days after his marriage, Mahoney
went into the store. After Mahoney
left, carrying a large package, the de-
tective went in and asked the proprie-
tor what the ex-con had purchased.
“Ten pounds of quicklime and a hun-
dred feet of rope.”

Quicklime. Rope. Ballard immedi-
ately associated quicklime and rope
with a murder. He telephoned his su-
perior, Chief Tennant, and commu-
nicated his suspicions. Chief Tennant
laughed. “Chad,” he said, “you’re
imagining things. Mahoney could

(continued on next page)

MAHONEY,

Mm
rH
-
>
>
Sante
i
—_
43
rs

James

Lawmen tracking bathtub gin
gota mystery chaser...

_ SEATTLE’S WEIRD
CASE OF THE
BOOTLEGGED BODY

hanged Wash, (Kings) 12/1/1922,

by KEN CARPENTER

here’s an axiom in the back rooms of the police sta-
Tins that a cop can make a hundred mistakes but a

criminal can make only one. Chad Ballard was a cop—
an outstanding cop. He was a big, heavy, tough talking man
in his middle 40s who was, in January, 1921; the ace of the
detective squad of the Seattle, Washington, Police Depart-
ment. Ballard had, in his time, made a few mistakes, and he

was to make a few more.

_ Jim Mahoney—James E. Maho-
ney—was one of Detective Ballard’s
mistakes. Mahoney, 38, was tall,
slim, quick-witted and as handsome
as they come. He was’also as mean as
they come. He had been either emerg-
ing from or entering into trouble with
the law all his adult life. Detective
Ballard had nailed Mahoney for
armed robbery in 1919 and had the
satisfaction of seeing Handsome Jim,
as they called him, sent up to Walla
Walla for from five to fifteen years.

Now, in January of 1921, Ballard
felt himself turning blue in the face
when, looking through the columns
of the Post-Intelligencer, he saw
where Mahoney had somehow wan-
gled a parole. Mahoney, being a crim-
inal, was entitled to only one mis-
take. His mistake, as it was to turn
out, was Detective Chad Ballard.

Mahoney was a man who knew
his rights. Ballard spotted him coming
out of a luxurious Seattle apartment
house—the Sophia, on Denny Way—
a few days after his release. “What,”
Ballard wanted to know, “are you
doing around here, Mahoney?”

“Calling on a friend, copper, if it’s
any of your business—and it’s none
of your business.”

had to cut back following a
complaint from the suspect’s
lawyer on his people.

Detective Chad Ballard
worked overtime to save a
woman destined for murder.

“I feel like knocking your teeth
right down your throat.”

Mahoney laughed. “I know you
do, copper, but you’d lose your job


He Broke Every Rule In The Book

(continued from page 39)

_ Kate was a well-known character in the
city. Het maiden namie was Kate Sholtz.
Under the name of Kate Keiler, when she
was much younger, she ran a string of
dancehalls in the rough mining camps of
Montana, where she amassed a fortune,
exchanging the pleasure of women and
whiskey for the miners’ gold.

She moved to Vancouver, Washing-
ton, where she ‘tbought” a young hus-
band, still in his ‘teens. She put her boy
through medical school. When he
graduated, they went to Alaska where he
became a prominent physician. Kate’s
rough ways weren't what the young doc-
tor needed, so he divorced her but was
fair enough to give her a generous settle-
ment.

Kate returned to Seattle where she
shrewdly invested her money in real es-
tate. She owned a dozen buildings,
apartments and hotels. And as an “‘ace in
the hole,” an instinct from her early be-
ginning, she collected a sockful of
diamonds worth a fortune.

Curious as to how Mahoney had man-
aged to lead the cagey Kate, who was
now 72-years-old, into marriage, Matt did
some checking. He learned that
Mahoney’s sister, Dolly, had been work-
ing for Kate at the New Baker Hotel Kate
owned,

Dolly built her brother up as a great
inventor who was in the east. Just before
his release from the pen, Dolly told Kate
that her brother was coming to Seattle for
the Pullman Car Company. She said he
had invented a new air brake for trains
that had made him a millionaire. Dolly
and her mother, Nora Mahoney, scraped
every dime they could get together and
dressed brother Jim up and put on a front
for him, while he rushed Kate into mar-
riage.

Three months after the marriage, a
Mrs. Carrie Stewart of Vancouver,
British Columbia, came in to see Sheriff
Starwich. She identified herself as a niece
of Kate Moores Mahoney. She handed
Matt a letter that read:

“My Dear Carrie: Just a few lines to let
you know I am very well and have de-
cided to go with Mrs. Atkinson to Havana
before going to New York.

“I have settled my business here and
Jimmie will return to Seattle and look
after things there until his health im-
proves. He'll join me later in the season. I
may have him sell out for me there, pro-
viding the estate picks up. I would have
done so before I left but the market was
poor and money tight.

“Hoping to hear from you soon, your
Auntie, Kate Mahoney. P.S. Jimmie is

40

Writing this as | sprained my wtist a day
Of So 4g6 getting out of a car. Will write
you again soon.”

Mrs. Stewart insisted she was certain
that her aunt had not dictated the letter,
despite the reference to her sprained
wrist. She said that while everyone called
her aunt Kate, she always called herself
Carrie to the family, the same given name
as her own.

Matt pointed out, although he was
much interested in the report, that it was
possible that in writing the letter for his
elderly bride, he had put down the name
Kate, even though she might have told
him to sign it Carrie.

Mrs. Stewart also said she had never
heard of the person called Mrs. Atkinson
and it was strange her aunt would men-
tion the name of someone she didn’t
know.

Starwich tried to calm the fears of the
niece from Canada, but his own intuition
told him that it was highly probable the
tough ex-con had either killed or was
planning to kill his aged bride.

He wired Chief Herman Vall of the St.
Paul, Minn., police, the city the letter had
been postmarked from, .and asked him to
check at the hotel where the Mahoneys
were supposed to be staying. Meanwhile,
he assigned Detective Chad Ballard to
check around town.

Chad picked up some interesting in-
formation from a hardware store around
the corner from the apartment Kate
owned and where the newlyweds had
Stayed prior to taking off on their honey-
moon to the east. The clerk told him that
he knew Jim Mahoney and was positive
he had purchased 75 feet of new rope and
five pounds of quicklime a couple of days
before the couple left. Quicklime will de-
stroy a human body beyond recognition
in a short time.

Matt received a wire from Chief Vall in
St. Paul with the information that the
Mahoneys had registered at a hotel there
for only one day. Most interesting in the
wire was Vall's report, ‘‘Man who regis-
tered as Mahoney checks with description
you wired but wife does not fit descrip-
tion of Kate Mahoney (stop) Hotel clerk
describes Mrs. Mahoney as blonde and 35
years old.”

Matt's deputies and the city police
scurried around town trying to get every-
thing they could about the movements of
Jim and Kate Mahoney before they left
town. They turned up the information
that Kate had purchased a large amount
of traveler's checks. Four were cashed in
Duluth, Minn., by a blonde, 35-year-old
woman.

While they were trying to locate fig
Mahoney, he returned to town. He
ably knew he was being tailed by detes
tives but appeared unconcered about ¢
He went to the bank and cleaned oy
Kate's safety deposit box where she bes
her diamonds. Nexi, he went to the fre
haridiing Kate's business and preseney
an order for power of attorney and»
structions to sell all of her holdings.

He advertised all of the hotels, apart
ments and buildings Kate owned for sake
with instructions to the agents that wher
the deals were closed the money was te
be turned over to his mother,

Matt was going nuts because he ww
certain Mahoney had killed Kate and
soonas he could convert her holdings int
cash he would blow. All the investigatus
had developed to date was that five
trunks had been shipped from the apart
ment the newlyweds had occupieé
‘‘With Kate’s body in one of them, ané
I'd bet my life on it,’’ Matt said.

Two weeks after Mahoney arrived
back in Seattle, Chad called Matt
‘‘Mahoney is leaving town. He's gw
Kate’s car and is loading his stuff in «
What can we do?”’

“Arrest him,’’ Matt ordered.

‘On what charge?”

‘Hell, mopery, if you can't think
anything else.** In those days when legs
rights had not been so clearly established
the cops often held a suspect on an opes
charge which they referred to as ‘mop
ery,’ coming from the term to dawdle ot
to walk around in a squpid manner.

By the time Chad got Mahoney to the
county jail, Matt had contacted the pre
secuting attorney's office and filed «
charge of forgery on the traveler checks
which were not in Kate’s handwriting
but they weren’t in Mahoney’s either

Mahoney put up a how! for anattomey
The attorney screamed about false arre#
and insisted on an immediate hearing
Matt and Prosecuting Attorney T.H. Pa
terson stalled on every move.

The trunks were traced to Dubuque
Iowa. There were four of them, all co*
taining clothing and personal stuff. Chaé
was positive the moving van driver haé
told him there were five trunks.

They checked with him again. He sa#
there were five trunks but Mahoney hat
him take only four to the train depot. He
delivered the fifth trunk — a large, rowm
top bound with rope — to an address
Eastlake Avenue on the shore of Lake
Union, where Mahoney had told him he
was going to store it.

The address was that of Howard até
Son, a boat rental business. Howard sa#
no one had stored a trunk with him. St
wich described Mahoney. F

‘‘He sounds like Mr. Glassford.
Howard exclaimed. ‘tHe came in
rented a boat from me to use for (we

(continued on next page)

weeks but he never returned it. I don’t
gaow where he or my boat is.”” -

“[ don’t know where your boat is,”
Matt told him. ‘‘But I’ve got a damn good
eica where there may be a trunk with a
tedy in it.”

Returning te his effige, Matt found
fretecutor Patterson waiting. “We've,
gto let Mahoney go,” he said. “I can't
make that forgery charge stick. A judge
will rap both of our knuckles if we hold
tm any longer.”’

“Charge the son-of-a-bitch with mur-
éer,"' Matt growled. ‘‘I’m going out and
fied a trunk with Kate’s body in it.”’

It was a tougher assignment than it
eould appear on the surface. Lake Union
# a fair-sized body of water. It is con-
sected to Lake Washington, which has a
ewcumference of 52 miles, by a canal.
There was no particular spot for the di-
vers to start looking for a trunk on the
ttlom.

“Start near the boathouse,’’ Starwich
told them. ‘‘Mahoney is a lazy bastard.
He probably rowed the trunk out at night.
i don't think he’d go too far.”’

There was another problem. The bot-
tom of Lake Union had a deep, muddy
wit. twas before the days of scuba divers
ead the helmeted divers clouded up the

sottom when they walked in their leaded

twos, so it was difficult to see.

The search went on for six weeks,
while Mahoney's attorneys bombarded
%e court with petitions for an immediate
mal or a dismissal of the charges. Patter-
wn told Matt that without witnesses or
te corpse, there wasn’t a prayer for a
soaviction. If he pressed the charges and
Mahoney was freed, he couldn't be

charged again even if the body was found, -

wder the double jeopardy law. If they
wed him loose, without going to trial,
te'd take off like a scalded cat.

Matt wanted that trunk. Talking with
%e divers, they came up with an idea. A
ting, built like a sled out of pipe, was
ade that could be let down from the

'. The divers could ride on it just
ove the muddy bottom.

It worked. They found.a trunk with a
tedy, eaten almost beyond recognition
ty quicklime.

Mahoney maintained his innocence
Yroughout the trial-but was convicted
d sentenced to be hanged at the
Rnitentiary in Walla Walla.

Matt told me, ‘‘In the forty years I
tecked a gun, I never pulled down on a
Py tokill him. | winged a few in my days
® save myself from being killed, but I
"verkilled anyone and I'm glad of it. But
! got to say truthfully, I sat in the front
*’ when they sprung the trap on
Mahoney. I figured he was one guy who
ted it coming.”

Oh yes, | mentioned Matt saving my

*. It started with a punk named Joe
O'Donnell, who was hijacking slot

hines. He would heist them from

clubs and bars, keep the money in them,

. and peddle the machines to an operator.

The caps found him inside a joint. one
night apd he bjgstgq two good cops who
were friends gf ming.

| was a paljge repgrter on the now de- ©
furet Seattle Star at the time, A good
sb reporter has contacts with

ondsmen, shady attorneys and charac-
ters who may not be quite legit. It comes
in handy to know what's going on.

- A guy I knew fingered O'Donnel for
killing the police officers and I passed it
along, because they were my friends. I
had to testify in court when O'Donnel
was convicted and sentenced to hang. In
those days, they actually executed con-
victed killers, instead of letting them sit
around on death row for years.

The day. before they were going to take

O’Donnel over to the big house for the
hanging, he sent word that he wanted to

-see me. I was anxious to talk to him be-

cause I felt it would be a good yarn, par-
ticularly since I had one of the invitations
to the execution.

The roles of reporters and cops were a
lot less formal then than they are now.
When I arrived at the county jail, Matt
offered me his office for the interview
with O'Donnel. :

I walked in and O'Donnel was waiting

for me. When I closed the door, he took
me by complete surprise with both of his
hands around my throat. ‘I’m going to
take you with me, you bastard,”’ he his-
sed. ‘'They can only hang me once.*?

I really dan’t know what happened in
the neat few minutes, except that! was on
the verge of blacking out fro those
hands clenched around my throat. I think

I struggled enough to kick over a chair

and Matt heard it. He came in and busted
O'Donnel alongside the head with his
ham-like fist. I talked in a whisper for
damn near a month.

Of course, in an article this length, you
can only touch the highlights of a career
like Matt Starwich had as a lawman. My
own memories take in the time I was with
him on a stakeout to grab a gang of safe-
crackers. When Matt jumped up from
where he was hiding behind a desk in the
office of a large bakery, one of the yeggs
threw a bottle of liquid at him and it hit the
wall just above my head.

It wasn’t until the shooting was over
that we discovered’ the liquid on the wall
was actually nitro, and enough of it to
blow up the whole building.

As a final tribute to my favorite law-
man, I guess about the best I can say is
that he was one helluva cop. I think he
would like that, wherever he is.

| Killed One, Both Or Neither

(continued from page 25)

Marion Harse was officially pro-
nounced dead by Dr. Joseph Lau. Thus
the body of the once-sprightly brunette
was removed by ambulance to the mor-
gue. :

In Hawaii, the residents, in conversa-
tion, never use the compass points of
north, south, east and west. They desig-
nate directions according to where the
ocean, mountains and landmarks are
situated regarding the locale they happen
to be in. In Waikiki, north is ‘‘Mauka,”’
south, ‘*‘Makai,”’ east, ‘*‘Kokohead,”’ and
west, ‘‘Ewa.” ;

In making the written report covering
the fatal stabbing of the gay widow,
Homicide Investigator Sullivan noted:

‘The murder scene was found to be
Room 539, which is located at the Mauka
end of a wing of the building going
Mauka/Makai. The door opened in the
Kkhd direction.

“Upon entering the premises with
Sergeant D. Benson and Patrolman H.
Naone, this investigator saw the body of a
female on the floor with her head pointed

in the Kkhd direction and her feet point- ~

ing toward Ewa.”’
After giving instructions to secure the
crime scene, Lieutenant Dickson as-

signed Detectives Norman Crowell. and
Roy Kaaa to spearhead the homicide

probe. It was obvious that the task would

not be an easy one.
‘**There must be more than 100 apart-

- ments in this hotel,’’ Detective Crowell

remarked to his partner. ‘‘We might as
well start checking the tenants and find
out if they saw or heard anything out of
the ordinary. Dr. Lau estimated that the
victim was dead about 10 or 12 hours
before she was found. So the killing must
have occurred about 9 to 11 o’clock yes-
terday evening, Sunday, September 20,
1970.”” .

Detective Kaaa agreed. ‘‘However,
most of the people in the hotel will be
working at this time of day,’ he stated.
‘And the night people will be sleeping.
We might as well divide the chore of
checking the apartments on this floor be-
fore we visit the other floors.”

While the two sleuths started their can-
vass of the hotel, Officers Sullivan and
Naone were dispatched to interview ten-
ants in an adjacent building.

**The lanais (balconies) in that building
look right into the lanais in this wing,”’

(continued on next page)

41


ste eee

etieereeeese

rene eer denn itn

AR erence

for a thing like that.”

Ballard had more to do than tail the
ex-con. But every time he caught
sight of Handsome Jim on the street
he asked himself what Mahoney was
up to. After he had noticed Mahoney

in the vicinity of the Sophia Apart--

ment several times, Ballard ques-
tioned the superintendent of the place.
It developed that Mahoney was call-
ing on a woman known throughout
the Puget Sound area as Kodiak Kate.
Kodiak Kate’s actual name was
Katherine Mooers. She was a dumpy
little 54-year-old widow whose hus-
band had left her three million dollars
which he had made by gold strikes in
the Klondike. Mrs. Mooers, who had
spent several of her young, impres-
sionable years in Alaska, had an affin-
ity for loud attire and loud talk. A se-
ries of diamond bracelets clanked on
each arm, and she seemed to regret
deeply her. inability to wear more
than one fur coat at a time. Her face
was a virtual mask of make-up, and
her hair, flaming henna, was straight
from a cosmetician’s bottle, The la-
dy’s language, when she had _ her
hackles up, was strictly dock-side
English, and she could toss off a jig-
ger of red-eye with the neat authority

The killer submerged the
victim inside a chest
bound with 58 feet of
stout rope. In the end it
proved more than long
enough to stretch his
own neck. :

of a movie two-gun man. '

It was obvious to Detective Ballard
that Handsome Jim Mahoney’s inter-
est in Kodiak Kate was monetary
rather than amatory. Ballard worried
about what might happen to Kodiak
Kate if Mahoney somehow laid hands
on her money. Then he assured him-
self he had nothing to worry about.
Kodiak Kate was no fool. Quite a
few fiscal-minded gentleman had
made covetous overtures in the direc-
tion of the lady’s millions and been
cut off at the pockets for their trouble.

Detective Ballard soon realized he
had made a mistake in deciding that
Mahoney would be unable to get

WEIRD KILLERS OF HISTORY

next to Katherine Mooer’s bank ac-
cqunt. Handsome Jim appeared with
a new automobile, a gift of the lady,
and the two of them were often seen
tearing through the hills around
Seattle.

One day Detective Ballard called
on Kodiak Kate. “I was wondering,”
he said, “if you knew who this fel-
low Mahoney was.”

“Certainly. He’s an inventor.”

“An inventor of what?”

“Why, a new air brake. He’s going
to close a deal with the Milwaukee
Railroad for one million dollars.”

“Mahoney’s an ex-criminal. He’s
been out of prison less than a month.”

Kodiak Kate’s reaction was hardly
what Detective Ballard expected.
She poured herself a drink, without
offering him one, and downed it.
“Now, Mr. Snooper,” she said, “do
you know what you can do? You can
get the hell out of here—and quick!”
Detective Ballard had made another
mistake.

One day in February, about six
weeks after Mahoney’s release from
prison, he and Mrs. Mooers went to
the Seattle City Hall and took out a
marriage license. When Ballard re-
ceived the news, he felt himself get-
ting blue in the face again. Kodiac
Kate and the ex-con were married
by a justice of the peace February 10,
1921. Pending such time as they de-
parted on a wedding trip, the two
took up residence in the bride’s quar-
ters in the Sophia Apartments.

One night Detective Ballard had a

(continued on page 48)

Tied with a hawser, the large

trunk lies salvaged on the

wharf. Lawmen had no doubts
about what lay inside.


|

MARABLE, Jack, white, hanged SP (Thurston Co.), October 4, 1940.
“Kidnaper Dies On Gallows For Olympia Crimes.
“Marable Bitterly Flays Smith Troy in Final Death Chamber Speech.

“Jack Marable was hanged early Friday at the state penitentiary, Walla Walla. It was one
year - almost to the minute - from the time he and Robert Kimmich released Mrs. Emil Roloff of
Olympia after abducting and raping her. Marable bitterly denounced Smith Troy, now state
attorney general, who handled the kidnap-rape trial as Thurston county prosecutor. The
condemned man charged is execution was ‘brought on by that blood-thirsty politican, Smith Troy,
who is building a political career of human sacrafice,’ the United Press reported. The 40-year-old
escaped Alabama convict, who had a record of seven felony convictions, entered the death
chamber at 12:05 a.m. The trap was sprung at 12:06 o’clock and he was pronounced dead at
12:19 o’clock. It was the first execution under the State of Washington’s ‘little Lindbergh’ law of
1933.

“Kimmich In Prison.

Kimmich, whose 17th birthday anniversary occurred during his and Marable’s trial in
Olympia last November, is serving a maximum sentence of life imprisonment in the penitentiary
for his part in the crime. The parole board fixed his minimum term at 50 years, stiffest minnimum
ever established by the board. Mrs. Roloff, then 23 years old, was seized by the pair on the steps
of the Olympia postoffice during the evening of October 3, 1939. They forced her to drive them
to an abandoned Grand Mound farmhouse, where they attacked her. She was released near the
postoffice about midnight - almost exactly a year before the execution of the older of the two
abductors.

“Had Long Record.

Marable had fled from the Alabama state prison on New Year’s day, ‘1939, in a mass
escape in which several convicts were killed by guards. He and Kimmich were ‘bumming’ their
way about the country when they stopped in Olympia. Marable spent his last hours writing
letters. Included were letters to his mother in Tuscaloosa, Ala., an aunty in Georgia, the Rev. E.
R. Scratch of the Olympia Assembly of God church, and Mrs. Edward D. O’Brien, chief deputy
sheriff of Tfhurston county.”-Daily Olympian, Olympia, WA, 10/4/1940 (1).


By Jack Heise

Special Investigator for
ACTUAL DETECTIVE
STORIES

of Women in Crime

Why Will Olympia,

Washington, Re-

spect Forever This

Woman Who Suf-

fered Worse Than

Death on October
3, ove

in a white heat of fury. His eyes

narrowed to pin-points and his
lips compressed in a thin slash above
his square jaw.

The letter he held in his hand trem-
bled as he fought valiantly to stem
the rage that surged through him.

He stood in the center of a group of
uniformed and _ plain-clothes police
officers at Headquarters in Olympia,
the State capital of Washington, on the
morning of October 3, 1939.

“Men!” His voice lashed out like the
crack of a bullwhip in the silent room.
“Men, it’s another one of those letters.
Those knife rapers are still loose!”

Feet shifted uneasily around the

Cin: of Detectives Ray Hays was

8

Jack Marable: He learned there is
more than one use for shirt buttons

ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES OF WOMEN IN CRIME,

December, 1939

Chief and eyes met in quick, nervous
glances.

“Do you know where they struck
last?” His voice, harsh from. strain,
was a challenge. He waited with dra-
matic effect before saying: “They
took a woman from the steps of the
capitol building!”

There was an involuntary gasp.

“From the steps of the capitol build-
ing!” Hays repeated with emphasis,
shaking the letter.

HE officers knew what was in the

letter without being told. There had
been two other letters from Olympia
women. And there was the case of the
woman in the neighboring town of
Port Angeles.

Chief Hays went on:

“It is exactly the same kind of
case as the others. Two men stuck a
knife against her back and forced her
into her own car. They made her drive
down a deserted road.

“She said they mistreated her. I
don’t have to tell you fellows how
bad. You know what happened to
the other women. These men are sex
fiends of the worst kind.”

Men clamped their jaws together
and fists clenched.

“We've got a little clew this time.

AD—8a


Right:

The woman gives a partial descrip-
tion of the men. She says (Hays held
up the letter and read):

“"One of the men was a young fel-
low. He was a stupid-looking youth
with thick lips and bushy hair. The
other man was older and more cruel.
He had a thin face and deep-set, nar-
row eyes

The letter went on:

‘‘I am not signing this letter nor
will I come in to make a complaint.

The knife rapers chose this horrible s

pot for their monstrous love- making.

Police found this button to clinch a woman victim’s tragic story

The ordeal I have suffered at these
men’s hands is all I can stand. I would
never be able to face the publicity, and
I am hoping that I shall be able to
keep what happened a secret. I am
writing this in hope that my descrip-
tion may enable you to find these men
and punish them.’ ”

The steady eyes of the Chief swept
around the room.

“We’ve got to catch them!” he
barked. “There won’t be a woman in

ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES of Women in
Crime Never Knowingly Contributes in Any
Way to the Suffering of Unfortunate Victims
of Crime. For This Reason, Aware That Mrs.
Geraldine Roloff Has Suffered Enough, We
Refrain from Publishing a Picture of This

Valiant Woman

aAD—8

this city safe from their attacks until
they are behind bars. This is the
fourth woman that we know who has
suffered at their hands ... And the
Lord only knows how many more who
haven’t written us about it.”

Detective James Heath spoke:
“That’s the Hell of it. How can we
get the guys until one of these women
comes in and gives us something to
work on? There hasn’t been a descrip-
tion yet that’s good enough actually to
pick them up.”

“I can understand why they don’t
come in,” Hays declared. “Although I
wish just one of them had courage
enough to face the thing. She could do
a real service to other women, but
that doesn’t alter the fact that we’ve
got to get them. Do you fellows re-
alize what it means with those men
loose—

“The next woman may be your own
wife!” m

There was an angry grumble from
the grouped officers.

Any one of them gladly would have
risked his life for a chance to catch

the “knife rapers.” But there was no
way of knowing where or how tto start
to get them.

“The first thing we are going to do.
Hays said, “is to run every vag and
bum out of this town. In every letter
the women have said that the men
were dressed shabbily and filthy dirty
and that they have been half drunk
We'll start out this morning and have
the freights out of here loaded with
tramps.”

Throughout the day there was a gen-
eral exodus at the freight yards
Night-sticks connected with the seats
of tattered trousers when there was
any sign of unwillingness to move to-
ward the “rattlers.”’

ATE in the evening Hays and Heath
were both in the office of the Chief
going over the letters and trying to
figure some means of capturing the
sex fiends.

“You can imagine what will happen
if this story gets to the public,” Hays
said. ‘Women will be panic-stricken.
Just think, four women snatched right

9

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Khim. out 106 aduates |:

a ecb Peabody of tran ee

WL! deliver the valedictory ade New York. deves

ag: theme tonigt.t, with: Harmon Philadelphia eveesge
vis and Miss Clara Jones, who}. : Batteries —~ Gomes and

5 for the honar of delivering the Romme , Shores Cochrane,
utatary address, alsa speaking. | , / and sided

2 39 neniors el put on & class! Ww ington ence :
ye Going ave with a come | jahington oo si 6. ‘10 |
: Batteries — Jones and cots;
pe pate ang Ruel.

petit will tmeke the! Detroit
an ang Misa Autns

Batteries’.
wt ‘Yau! ttn Fal,

« Cate

Moko. wae TY

- ETE, TET LTT IE TRI ETY PCI BK BENET oR, 7 TA SE rate
‘ “

of

L VP hg si Mh Ka
-S Well, it Just happened. there was
7 One Way It could of happened,”
sald quietly when questioned
Gay afternoon in the Bunny-
pee $00." guess the missus went!
me BAd telephoned Warring.” he!
mrenued ih response to questions.)
mae the for @ long time,’
wen 2 "had Warring for a!
time,” ie

through the gate. Milier
“He wae on the porch J

%
%
3

Was standing.
‘why did you shoot Watring?";
prosecutor waliega ky ®as con | one!

lust befare he!

‘ —

ee
been

Squor.’:))
Many Drinks Tehen. '
Pd]

Petey 9,
.

. Balley, ‘Clyde |
Nngel were among
shere. They hest-
ist ’ ded led:
mas asin) rad Ga ‘oedlwcr
, he
{ Une etredte

Mrs. Miller told o Dio

on the back,

ule others

‘ i ‘ : touk charge of Miller.’ ‘Shey gob the
arrested. 1 cig ieee handcuffs on bum. tte made no f€0
ten lo & neighbor's home ; Slatance, they raul, although he‘ res]
GN4Wlephoned to the | Scited ‘tlie: handculfs,’ waving . te
Wi “hls “By” had; WOuld Bo pracetully' Without: being
Sher es handcufied. A Mabton doctor and

an ambulance’ were ‘sent: for and

»| Watting was teme Sitinvaide

aR.

jas standing’ over Wasriiig'| 2°,
LIAS 00. rhe us
> pm petits knees, rtm
+ Some os the p45) We

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ra

‘Graduation. Gift.

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4A Avia Cetutioners. ©) tires. Re
LE White, Hue: > ieaueitul :

“i sheet and 3) cavelopes,

DUCE ode gy FOR Pinewe pera,

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Se Thay
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for Coen pitt) fy aman
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Sanit Lave eects AC AANA

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ts‘: ;
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Foods 1

OIC | Fi
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16 oz. Vanilla
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forest:
Be Lenion
Extract ued Monat


hair ae
Lhe site Aiiagca

PF 4 Gopal Cup Ata Catt})le bak eh pas, SL foie a
ica. aes eed his eh Lek, asloeliag ra Spf £0 1s Dhow
I, tellin! Jfirsccaded Hey teen L 2aneundipoe, PA hoa par Tap ean Kae
thh V6, ¥f healt Ls vs cirkie Lot} hha é Let fated? pA Ahad of Marite
ALE ELavlo lilud L, ia Millers pleated . kerke pcawsgch
‘nae Te teldecse Tee halp va mA Airajtol hi
efi Lok kisses bile

EX=EUTION
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Fe ey page ht Btu Roots a, :

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True Detective Mysteries

ler was identified, first by the pedestrians
past whom Miller had forced his way,
then by the clerk in the five-and-ten-cent
store who had sold him the contents of
the dummy express package. At the pawn-
shop verification of this identification was
supported by the man who had sold Miller
the gun. The chase was on for Miller.

MMEDIATELY forty thousand posters
bearing the bureau classification of Mil-
ler, and his finger-prints and photograph,
were mailed to every police office in the
United States. A private wire was sent
by the express company instructing the
managing agent of every company office in
the United States to make a personal call
upon the police chief of whatever com-
munity he might be in, and to interview
personally the head of the Law in that
district regarding the poster, Their pur-
pose was to impress upon the Law that
the Railway Express was out to get. its
man. Within one weck, with every agent
interviewing the head of the police de-
partment in forty thousand cities and
communities, this head of the department
interviewing in turn the man or men as-
signed to the case, it might be said that one
hundred thousand police officers and detec-
tives were on the hunt for George Miller.

Miller’s doom was sealed.

For two days the wires burned with
false clues and identifications to the man
upon whose head was a price of one
thousand dollars. Express company agents
were on the go day and night, jumping
from town to town in response to every
lead. E. M. Whittle, general manager of
the Pacific division, and E, A. Munsey,
superintendent of the Pacific district, gave
their services tirelessly. No tip was too
small to be overlooked. No possibility too
vague. Agents scoured every state in the
Union in response. From San Francisco
to New Orleans; from Spokane to At-
lanta; Seattle to Chicago. Back and forth
across the United States the agents trav-
eled. George Miller must be brought in.

A week had passed before the first de-
finite clue in the chase popped. On the
night of October 30th, a Mrs, J. Saint had
reported a Pontiac coupé, license number
360-300, stolen from in front of her apart-
ment, The mere coincidence of date had
offered no connection with the Ivester
murder. Now Agent Manager Whittle,
stopping in Helena, Montana, for an in-
vestigation of police records there, sud-
denly discovered where one George Moore,
answering perfectly the description of
George Miller, had been picked up as a
suspected counterfeiter in Helena a few
days previous and that he, having no
papers to identify himself and the car he
drove, had been held until identification
could be established, Moore had finally
convinced the police that the car was
really his by telephoning long distance to
Spokane and having one Violet Toussiant,
under whose name the license was issucd,
acknowledge Moore as the purchaser of
the car. There being no other charge
against Moore, he was immediately turned
loose.

Agent Whittle, in investigating, traced
the long distance call and found that it
had been made to Riverside 0211 in
Spokane. A wire to the Spokane work-
ers to check, brought out the fact that
Riverside 0211 was the number of Mrs.
J. Saint, and that Mrs, Saint and Violet

Toussiant were one and the same! Mrs.
Saint had first reported her Pontiac coupé
stolen, then cleared an apprehended thicf
by saying he purchased it. Efforts were
turned toward an investigation of Mrs.
Saint. Who was this George Moore she
had succeeded in freeing from jail by coun-
tering her own theft charge?

At first Mrs. Saint denied all, then fin-
ally she confessed. Yes, George Moore
was George Miller. She had known
Miller. He had roomed at the hotel at
which she was a maid. Miller, a few
days before the robbery, had asked her for
the use of her car. Later he had sug-
gested buying it, but she had refused to
sell it. Then, on the night of the rob-
bery, October 30th, he had come to her
apartment with a stranger and prepared
for the crime they were about to com-
mit. From a small black handbag they
carried, they had drawn guns and _ placed
them in their pockets. Shortly before 6
o'clock they had departed.

An hour later Miller returned. Again
he offered to purchase the car. Again,
Mrs. Saint claimed, she refused. Miller
finally left. That night Mrs. Saint’s car,
which she claimed to have left parked in
front of her apartment, was missing.

EADILY Mrs. Saint identified the

identification bureau picture of Miller.
She claimed she had never seen the man
who accompanied him before that night,
At her apartment she heard him referred
to only as “Dutch.” The woman pleaded
duress as an excuse for her failure to no-
tify the police immediately. Miller had
threatened to kill her if she spoke a
word, The reporting of the car as stolen
had been, she claimed, only a frantic at-
tempt to shield herself in her tortured fear
of being involved in the crime.

One thing Mrs. Saint did do, however,
She postively identified Miller. There
was absolutely no doubt now as to who
committed the crime. From Mrs. Saint’s
confession Miller’s former residence was
traced. There, again, he was identified by
a man knowing him under one of his
aliases, who claimed on the morning of
the day of the robbery Miller had come to
him alleging he was flat broke but would
have money that night. Miller asked for
a loan of five dollars. The man gave
Miller the money. Five dollars was the
amount the man Miller had paid for the
second-hand automatic and the handful of
45 caliber F. A. 27 shells he had pur-
chased at the same time.

The chase for Miller now narrowed
down to a certainty. Miller had committed
the crime, and some two days before had
been in the city of Helena, Montana, evi-
dently headed cast. The dragnet of the
Railway Express Agency spread further,

HROUGHOUT the passing weeks

every city, town, and village in Mon-
tana was combed. Tip after tip was run
down. Here, a lone sheepherder on the
Montana open range answered the descrip-
tion of Miller. Hours of packing and
tramping across the range, only to find the
tip a false one followed. In Missouri an-
other suspect appeared. A suspect that
made the chase hot as, from town to town
‘throughout the state, the express agent
traced a man who wilfully used every
known means to cover his trail. At last
the catch; a man who in some respects

answered ~
a man me
dodge ali
Tips came in
co; from coast t
north and south.
army of express
“Bring him in,”
way lexpress Ag
ish funds to co
must be caught.

UDDENLY ;

rested at Dx
brought —forwars
description answ
man had already
Penitentiary, M:
to the spot.

As the man \
the two officers
man was not Mi
oner, with droop:
moment, then cal

The officers
were certain the
prisoner did not
tured, himself as
crime. He procec
ment.

For hours the t
tioned the man.
scribed the crime.
its planning, The
away and gave tli
fession that woul
gallows as anon
listened unbelievir
to be true.
‘Shortly before
up, according to hi
istered in the peni
of Jake Bangart,
ler who sp-'-- -*
layout. T¢
watching -fc
themselves win u

company’s employ:
mapping out their
of the 30th they 1
Mrs, Saint, made
leaving the apartm
Mrs. Saint which
her apartment. ‘|
the express office
around the corner,
until they knew mo
ployes had Iecft.
extinguished, they
their dummy _ pack:
suspicion, and orde
his hands.

Of the stick-up
the affair move for
press office, he cla
down the street, ent
quickly out of tow
On the way they
completed, they re
back to Mrs. Saint
hours later left tow

Bangart said lx
morning in Monta
days at Deer Lode:
committing a burg
tinued on cast and \:

For a time the «
lieved Bangart was
ever, one point ra
minds. Why shou
make a confession |
as an accomplice

the
Thave
ES

tion
ould
the
iden-

dof
kom
iy the
latter
loves,
card.
card,
id not
-print
lition,
» pre-
esmen
worn
that at
ict Ws
is oot
» desk

J stole
aby he
apart-
av. the
voy ake.
on
the
wsdl to
. Stone,

iS CS

do Daw-
cy had
mie, and
uld also
oges al-
throurh
vald di
If not,
only a
sald that
io called
ge shown
© would
he gave
at hand
icted on

» what
sD eons

f threve
wh best;

Broad-

e $3
eber
ia, Texas

——

“y

True Detective Mysteries

Arouse Public Opinion!

(Continued from page 19)

it and bottles it in) gorgeous green
“pinch bottles decorated with almost
perfectly printed labels characterized
with the legend “none genuine without
this signature,” prepared by the com-
bine’s own printing establishment.

N any event, the enterprise is equipped

with the most ultra-modern in ma-
chinery; in weapons, both defensive and
offensive; with the most ingenious and
expensive technical and legal advice, as
well as highly paid) certified accountants
to properly calculate and distribute the
“earnings.”

But the most highly prized asset of the
criminal is the unscrupulous political in-
fluence whereby he can make or break the
prosecutor, control the decisions of juries
and judges, and by the exertion of pres-
sure here and there along the tortuous
channel of antiquated criminal practice
and procedure so deflect the course of its

The Clue of the

projectile as to make its impact practically
unfelt.. ‘Poo often a ward captain’s order
{0 a magistrate ends the case against the
criminal, or some grand juror is obligated
to a political power so that no indictment
is found, or the prosecutor finds himself
isidiously directed to accept a meaningless
plea to a lesser charge than the indictment
contemplates, if the same is not more eom-
pletely subverted, or some petit juror is
“reached” or the judge is persuaded to
place the defendant on “probation—all by
invoking the offiee of the politician for the
purpose of obtaining the necessary “drag.”

Unless and until the prosecution of crim-
inals in all its ramifications and machinery
is divorced as far as can he practical from
politics in general, the rule and government
of the many by the criminal few will be-
come more and more pronounced, and only
an enlightened and aroused public opinion
can cure the criminal cancer that threat-
ens our very existence.

Empty Cartridge

(Continued from page 59)

IF. A. 27's to rid his slow-turning stock
of that brand. The automatic pistol had
been an old piece long held as security
on a loan.

The ring was tightening. In the State
of Washington the purchaser of every
firearm is required to be registered by
name and address. With mention of the
sale of the .45 caliber automatic, the two
detectives went for the records. Ben and
Joe’s pawnshop had complied with the
Law. On the record it showed where one
George J. Miller had, on the morning, of
October 30th, purchased a second-hand AS
caliber automatic and with it, sixty-five
cents’ worth of .45 caliber cartridges of
the I. A. 27 government issue. A few
minute’s investigation proved the address
one so vague as to be impossible to trace.
There remained one last hope. Had the
man a: criminal record? Had he ever
been “mugged”?

Back at the office of the County Identi-
fication Bureau, Albert dived into a search
of its records. It was a one-chance-in-a-
thousand gamble. Surely, seasoned crooks,
such as the two men who had entered the
Railway Agency's office that
October meht had proven, would never
register for the purchase of a revolver
under a true name. Yes, it was one
chance in a thousand, and the Law won.
Among Albert’s records were the finger-
prints and identification mug of one
Ceorpe Jo Miller, prisoner in transit.

Iexpress

are one discovery offers proof of the
growing efliciency of the Law as it
stacks itself against crime. Over the. pro-
test of a short-sighted county commissioner
who harped only on saving money for the
county and cutting budgets. Sheriff lloyd
Brower had fought and won his battle
to maintain a County Bureau of Identifica-
tion. This bureau, as now. established,
need bow to tione in any county in the
United States. Its records are one hun-
dred per cent complete on every prisoner

who has ever entered the walls of the
county jail since the date of establish-
ment.

Some six months previous, the sheriff
of a northern county had brought one
Ceorpe Miller to the county jaib and re
quested the privilege of leaving him there
while he went down town for a noonday
meal. The charges against Miller were
trivial. He had failed to make the last
payment on a second-hand car he had
bought and in violation of his contract had
moved from the county of oripinal pur
chase. ‘Vhe charge was really more civil
than criminal yet in that one hour, ac-
cording to Sheriff Brower’s ironclad
policy, Miller was mugged for the identi-
fication bureau.

George Miller, alias George J. Dively,
alias George William Black, alias George
White, alias George Moore, alias George
Mower, alias J. P. Edwards. Wires to
every penitentiary in the United States and
department of justice brought back these,
and more, as a part of Miller’s record in
response to his broadcasted fingerprint
classification. Miller, with that trivial
shp-up, the hazard of every crook, had un-
consciously used the same alias in the
purchase of the .45 caliber automatic at
Ben and Joe’s that he had used at the time
of the purchase of a second-hand car
some months before. Quickly his criminal
record was compiled from information
flooding: into the office.

His western record showed he was. first
convicted as leader of a band of street car
bandits and served five years, from 1908
to 1913, at) Walla Walla, Washington
State Penitentiary. In 1914 he served six
months in the county jail at Seattle for
larceny. Following this he served) one
year in the Oregon State Penitentiary for
burglary. From 1915 his record was clear
except for the brief hour he had been a
prisoner in transit in the Spokane County
Jail.

Quickly the official photograph of Mil-

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Mrs.
-oupé
thief
were
Mrs.
» she
coun-

a fin-
\Loore
cnown
tel at
v few
er for
| sug-
sed to
» rob-
to her
epared
» com-
« they
placed
‘fore 6

Again

Again,

Miller
it’s car,
irked in
sing.

ied the
i Miller.
the man,
ght.
rred
_--aded
re to no-
iller had
spoke a
as stolen
rantic at-
ured fear

however.

There
s to who
cs. Saint’s
lence was
entified by
re of his

iorning of.”

id come to
but would
asked for
man gave
s owas the
uid for the
handful of
» had pur-

narrowed
1 committed
before liad
ontana, eVvi-
met of the
id further.

sing weeks
ee in Mon-
tip was run
rder on the
the descrip-
packing and
y to find the
Missouri an-
suspect that

to town

ss agent

al every
rail. At last
some respects

answered George Miller’s description, but
a man merely making a vain attempt to
dodge alimony, not murder.

Tips came in from Canada; from Mexi-
co; from coast to coast; border to border ;
north and south. Day in and day out the
army of express agents clung to the trail,
“Bring him in.’ The coffers of the Rail-
way Express Agency opened wide to furn-
ish funds to continue the chase. Miller
must be caught.

UDDENLY the record of a man ar-

rested at Deer Lodge, Montana, was
brought forward as a_ possibility. His
description answered that of Miller. The
man had already been removed to the State
Penitentiary. Maxwell and Albert hurried
to the spot.

As the man was brought before them,
the two officers shook their heads. The
man was not Miller. However, the pris-
oner, with drooped head, faced the men a
moment, then calmly said, “J did it.”

The officers were astounded. — They
were certain the man was not Miller. The
prisoner did not claim to be, but he pic-
tured himself as Miller’s partner in. the
crime. He proceeded to elaborate his state-
ment.

For hours the two officers sat and ques-
tioned the man. Point for point he de-
scribed the crime. He gave the details of
its planning. Then he described their get-
away and gave the officers a complete con-
fession that would send any man to the
gallows as an accomplice. The officers
listened unbelievingly. It was too good
to be true.

Shortly before the express office hold-
up, according to his story, the prisoner reg-
istered in the penitentiary under the name
of Jake Bangart, was approached by Mil-
ler who spoke of having spotted a good
layout. Together they planned the job,
watching for several nights to familiarize
themselves with the habits of the express
company’s employes at closing time, and
mapping out their getaway. On the night
of the 30th they met at the apartment of
Mrs. Saint, made final arrangements, and,
leaving the apartment, entered the car of
Mrs. Saint which was parked in front of
her apartment. They drove straight to
the express office and, parking the car
around the corner, waited across the street
until they knew most of the company’s em-
ployes had left. Seeing the front lights
extinguished, they crossed, entered with
their dummy package so as to arouse no
suspicion, and ordered Ivester to throw up
his hands.

Of the stick-up itself, Bangart related
the affair move for move. Leaving the ex-
press oflice, he claimed they then walked
down the street; entered the car, and drove
quickly out of town toward the suburbs.
On the way they divided the spoils. This
completed, they returned to town, went
back to Mrs. Saint’s apartment, and some
hours later left town again, traveling east.

Bangart said he left Miller the next
morning in Montana, stayed a couple of
days at Deer Lodge, and then was caught
committing a burglary job. Miller con-
tinued on east and was headed for Chicago.

For a time the questioning officers be-
lieved Bangart was telling the truth. How-
ever, one point raised a doubt in their
minds. Why should a man voluntarily
make a confession that proved him guilty
as an accomplice to a murder? Why

True Detective Mysteries

should a man push his head into the gal-
low’s noose by a confession? They began
checking on Bangart.

tr a few days, the falsity of Bangart’s
confession became apparent. ‘Tracing
through the man’s movements during the
days preceding the murder, it was found
that it was impossible for Bangart to have
been a party to the crime. At the very
hour the crime was committed, Bangart
had cashed a check in a town some two
hundred miles away and was postively
identified by his employer as being on the
job at five o’clock on the night of October
30th. However, action for action, Ban-
gart had described the crime correctly, ‘and
even more mysterious, as was later to be
learned, he had described correctly the
actions of Miller before and after the
crime. Bangart’s reason for confessing as
he did will perhaps remain one of the mys-
teries of the crime. The man was abso-
lutely normal, yet deliberately made a con-
fession that, except for the diligence of the
officers in tracing down his own. alibi,
would have made him eligible for the gal-
lows.

With this false track cleared as to
Miller’s partner in the crime, the Express
Agency again went back to its task. More
reward posters were sent out and again
every Railway Express agent in the
United States was notified to make a per-
sonal call upon the law enforcement head
in his community and make inquiry as to
what was being done to apprehend the man
Miller. The police were given no chance
or opportunity to relax for one minute in
the chase or to forget that such a man as
Miller was wanted.

Weeks passed. Still the chase held. Still
express company agents scoured the coun-
try. Still the police were constantly kept
on edge by letter and interview. The costs
of the chase had mounted to thousands and
thousands of dollars. A hundred times the
amount of the swag that had gone with
the killing of Ivester had been expended.
The motto of the Railway Express Agency
still held. “Bring in your man.” The ex-
press agents never relaxed.

EANWHILE, in Detroit, Michigan,

a rather strange, yet outwardly un-
important, thing had happened. Down a
crowded street in the heart of town an
innocent-looking sedan moved leisurely in
and out of traffic, then, with seeming delib-
crateness, ignored the halting red light of a
traffic signal. Instantly an officer’s whistle
blew and the sedan was hauled to the curb.

There were two men in the car. The
driver had little to say except to take on a
sheepish look of acknowledgment. to his
mistake, The man beside him began to
plead good-naturedly with the traffic of-
ficer, claiming they were strangers in
town and stressing the fact that where they
came from traffic signals were rare and
seldom seen.

The officer was half convinced. He ex-
amined the car license. The car bore a
Missouri plate. Next, as is a part of their
routine, he opened the car door for the
purpose of examining the driver’s license
of the two occupants.

As the car door swung open, a gun,
stuffed between the front seat and the
door, dropped to the running board. The
officer picked the gun up. He had _ these
two strangers now for another offense,

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that of carrying a gun in their car with-
out a permit. Summoning another officer,
he ordered the two men to drive to the
station.

Seemingly willing, the two men followed
the officer’s instructions. At the station
they were brought before the desk ser-
geant. Asked to explain, the man who
had ridden beside the driver began an-
other good-natured plea of ignorance of
the law.

They were from Missouri. In Mis-
souri it is not necessary to have a permit
to carry a gun in one’s car. They were
traveling across country and carried the
gun only as protection, The man who
was’ doing the explaining had papers. to
prove the car was legally his. He was
correct on the state laws of Missouri not
requiring a permit and his license tallied
with his explanation.

The desk sergeant was on the point of
releasing the men. A sudden attempt,
though, of the speaker to slip a knotted
handkerchief to his companion, made the
sergeant suspicious. He ordered the men
searched. The results blasted the innocent
air of the two apprehended men.. In one
of the men’s pockets was found a hand-

kerchief with a fistful of diamonds and
jewelry tied in it. Before an explanation
to this could even be attempted, the officer
entered the station from making a search
of the car and deposited over a hundred
pounds of silverware upon the floor. The
case had passed the stage of explaining
now!

A Newest reports, the police soon dis-
covered that the night before the resi-
dence of a wealthy family located some
little distance from Detroit had been bur-
glarized. The report came from the town
of Bryan, Ohio, where the robbery had

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been committed. The sheriff at Bryan was
notified and hurried to Detroit. Mean-
time, the two men were placed in jail;
first, however, being put through the rou-
tine of fingerprinting and mugging for the
identification bureau.

The sheriff from Bryan, Ohio, was
quickly able to identify the swag found
upon the two men. He immediately sought
to have the men transferred back to Bryan
for trial. The two men waived extradition
and the sheriff started back with his pris-
oners.

Meantime, the identification bureau at
Detroit had continued with their routine
procedure. The classifications of the two
men just caught were put through the file,
cuts made, and sent on out to some thou-
sand different police departments through-
out the United States with whom the De-
troit. Bureau exchanged classifications.
Within a few days practically every city
of any size in the East had received a
copy of the identification numbers and
fingerprint classifications of the two men
arrested in Detroit who were now on their
way to the county jail at Bryan, Ohio, to
stand trial on a charge of burglary.

Out West the agents of the Railway
Express Agency still concentrated their ef-
forts in the belief that Miller still was
about that part of the country. Five
months had now passed since the date of
the crime. He had been traced to Mon-
tana, south through Wyoming, Utah, Colo-
rado, and into California. There his trail
again turned north. With dogged persist-
ence the Agency held on. At times they

were only a day behind him, Again, their
man disappeared completely. Still the hunt
went on.

On an April morning Sheriff Floyd
Brower entered his office to have a tele-
gram thrust instantly into his hand. He
opened it and glanced at the sender’s ad-
dress. It was from the Chief of Detec-
tives at Miami, Florida.. Sheriff Brower
began to read. Hlis face flushed as he
glanced across the message. It read:

Sheriff Floyd Brower,
Spokane County,
Spokane, Wash.
George Burnside arrested in Detroit as
fugitive No. 568-781 same as your George
Miller No. 13972 wanted for murder.

The Detroit arrest had heen the con-
necting link!

Sheriff Brower rushed to forward the
wire on to Albert and Maxwell, still on
the trail in Montana. The net was closing
in.

Telegrams to Detroit immediately veri-
fied the fact and brought out, as well, that
George Burnside, alias George Miller, had
waived extradition and had been released
to the custody of the sheriff at Bryan,
Ohio, Again the wires burned to Bryan,
Ohio.

Taunting hours, then came the reply.
George Burnside, arrested as a fugitive at
Detroit, was safe in jail at Bryan, Ohio,
awaiting his trial on a charge of burglary.

Wire followed wire. The sheriff at
Bryan was willing to release the man. The
description of the man Burnside answered
perfectly that of Miller. Seemingly the
chase was. ending.

Deputy Sheriff Albert rushed back to
Spokane. ‘By now facts concerning the
identification were known. At Miami, the
Express manager of that city, in compli-
ance with his instructions from the higher
office, had seen to it that the local police
and detective force had no chance to for-
get such a man as George Miller was
being sought. The Chief of Detectives,
L. O. Scarbaro, was on the alert. On his
office wall and on his desk were posters of
Miller.

From Detroit came the Bureau of Iden-
tification’s classification as exchanged be-
tween the two cities. Detective Chief
Scarbaro was blessed with a camera mind.
He glanced at the finger-print records of
one George Burnside and instantly the
similarity of those belonging to one George
Miller leaped before him. He compared
them. They were the same. The result-
ing wire to the sheriff at Spokane was
Miller’s undoing.

Meanwhile, Lawrence Albert with City
Detective Arthur Aikman, the detective
who handled most of the investigating
for the city detective force, were on their
way east. At Chicago they left their
train and inquired at the Chicago Police
Teadquarters regarding further identifi-
cation, A telegram awaited them. Tt was
from Sheriff Carl Regan at Bryan. It urged
Albert and Aikman to hurry to Bryan.
Miller was well aware that the two offi-
cers were on their way to return him to
Spokane on a murder charge and the
sheriff feared a jailbreak. Aikman and
AMbert caught the first train.

Arriving at Bryan, they hurried to. the
jail. Immediately the man posing as
George Burnside was brought before them.
The two men felt the flush of victory.

It was George Miller, There was no
longer a doubt.

ee ve.

From Bryan,
west until *
officers w
Then = car
“Stools” had wa
tention to make :
word to a gang
in Chicago, and
rescue. A hu
the tip no idle

HE county j

of defense.
two officers proc
ever might, hap
chine gun, Th
trance, In rea

Shortly after
jail. After a
again, Then, <
halted. A moi
piped from som
One of the offi
Miller’s cell, si
officer stood re:

“Answer it |
challenged the ;
this cell alive u

The officer di
At’the jail doo:
the machine gu
bunk. Outside
When it was
made no answ:
down the strec
no more.

Next morni
was put abc
bound. Every
on their guaré

. that Miller’s

would attempt
officers never
prisoner was n:
journey hack 1
fully.

Arrivit
ried “fo: unex
cess of questi
the name of “
of information
from his lips.
admitted nothi
criminal.

Twice, as M
escapes were 1
quartered with
awaiting life;
lows. No caut
three men.

Then, with t
new tip. Mill
going to atten
Immediately t
cope with the

[Ama

increased by «
Chicago at al
Some time
filed suit agai
paper for $1
articles that a
to events in :
years of 192
case has neve
Her anger
the arrest of ©

see Nac an ae fad Aautan been Keeping younrsters oll the tions of the simulated incidents to

the tailrace..at Grand Coul ce, Boece leaching them the im- air raid wardens, who in turn will
Wenatchee interested. portance of international friend-'report incidents in detail to the

Wenatchee: interests are partic- SRP and understanding and ar bac centers, Control center per-

‘ularly interested in having a dam! ‘them for a piace in society with sonnel, inctuding the chiefs of the

: ‘erected at Foster creek. They, VocStional training. |several auxiliary .units, will dis-
have pointed out that it would! Morse Code Studied. patch necessary equipment and

1 iP angola
oe as ‘ men to the scene of the incidents

provide additional electric power in) Snoica ; Se 1tS
t . et é ap i } Today in Spokane the Se enior) and receive reports from them on.

_ abundance of. irrigation | sorvies Scouts are learning the! tneir activities.

ater for various flats along ea, Morse code, with practical appli- “ wpnis will be the most complete
lumbia anc in the near-by “Oka ration to war work or emergencies. | qj il_we have Sais otek in’ the
ey eee Ot hers are taking training as!

eae 1 : ; aa ,city,” Coordinator A.-T. Amos sai
' £oOsier creek came into promi-} nurses’ aides. Still others are! tobe. “Most of our ‘ceitninel ce.
jnerce about ings middle of the | studying cookery and outdoor lif

e.
ma ; ene es cently completed special training
Hast century when a company Of: Statements received by notional! ines This wilt te their firs:

ppoiiers spent. a winter | tere +0 headquarters irom women in the: efficienc cy test. In addition, we will

iprevent a threatened Indian Up-| WAAC and WAVES indicates that! use as touch of .o8F auxiliary eauip-

rising. a a ‘the training they received in Girl! I ment ae nossibie!! ae, ee
The original Columb a basi’ Scou its has proved invaluable to : Dp ‘

‘commission, appointed by Gov-ithem in their present work. housands to Take Part.

o>

'
'
' .
{

i

: |
iernor Ernest Lister in 1919, re-; The scouts are in drastic need! Participating in next Thursday’s
ported that a foundation suitadle|of leadership for all types of mobilization will be 4500 air war-

construction of a dam exist€d| croups,” concluded Mrs. Bock. “We|dens and watchers; 1000 auxiliary.
lat Foster creek, Subsequent en-!think we have something different/ police, 600 auxiliary firemen and
igineering studies confirmed the re-itg offer both leaders and young/rescue workers, 550. emergency
‘port. lgirls, and in these days, when the, food and shelter workers (Red

sion, as Co. umbia basin commis- fight for freedom is raging on so: Cross); 400 drivers, 250 messenzers, .

evived oy the recent state | many fronts, we have pledged our-/ 480 medical unit work rs, 300 utili-
, Will consist of two dis- | selves to educate American girls) u ies men, 175 street clearance and

ions, each consisting of
rs. The state direc-

,

|
ervation and develop-|

yma

‘ ee £ Se
BpMACCAI CT TTS
PAPER rm A TR FPO T ine re

i t ik “ §
§ KY

clearance workers, 130 electrical

Q@
r

; VPIT ESE : repairmen, 75 telephone repairmen, -
é ane wil be chairman of the | ti 2 ‘, 25 telegraph repairmen, 75 borad-
(joint commission and of cach sece) ||! Ewe is fay o reconnaissance agents, 75 decon-
tion, ors | ai nko LI ted i tamix nation squad men, 75 control
Work for Irrigation. center workers and 50 supply divi-
Each of the three irrigation dis- ston ¢ pete
si

is in the Columbia basin will!
‘mame one of the three members of:
ithe irrigations section. That sec-
‘tion will work for the early irri-

At exactly 8:30, all workers will
be at their assigned posts to halt.
trafiic and enforce blackout regu-
ae ahel Protesting his innocence to the: ‘lations. pitheug ch the blackout Wills

1 mas} Oe } ~
gation of the basi Rey an /last, Ben Webbs, a Negro, paid wit! h| be for one-half hour only, the drill.
' Governor Arthur B. Langue W iil will continue for an aédéditional.
iname the three members of the} his life this morning on a gallows} nour, during which time vehicular
20

|
|
!
|
|
|
|
|
|

‘economic Gevelopment section. The ‘at the state prison at Walla Walla|tra affic speed limit will be 15 a
3 ‘section is authoriz ed =o make! for the murder of Mrs. Jessie Sel-| per hour.
_. {studies toward the development of'lers at the Victoria hotel here in, County Forces Drill.
7° ‘ining and other industries in the! June, 1940. i sg : s
t olumbia river area. {| Webbs fought prison guards pokane cou cst will not partici-
ax Spokane has made a bid forrep-|when they sitempted to prepare Pate +n the city’s mobilization and

r
nd rose: tation on the economies sce-\the noose after he entered the mited blackout drill, Clarence »

r ‘tion, put is

eas 543 e ze tot y. T nt joq ay r€
~C@ ‘opposition from downriver points./an Associated Press dispatch. ec ee ootakd sliphoi Nie
'©S ‘The latter group would prefer al “I am an innocent man,” hei : eee : Similar

mace up of persons ap-jshouted as the hood went over his Cae age “oe emia with our

, pointed ‘from Chelan county, the! ‘head. He was pronounced dead at}. Re cna Pty Pa ants

— Okanozan river basin and Stevens /12:25 _ jintensified raining program,
. a b - ¥ . .

a pee ye) rt “OM % +
»  ;county. | The body of Mrs. Sellers was) oo see win pare fon qivaae
— ‘ ifound at the bottom of the elevator’ : z . meade
iron “ot 1 oT ye. | ': Zt “t " Senede 9 and victory gardening
Pay Sacse nd MeleSoeee  ishait at the Victoria hotel. In the) We ay IL
eb | a IT eke Ve ed ebay trial last June which resulted in| Promotion. We are installing scrap
| at | eran ees Awticcn tsa: -ctate -|conee at salvage depots
os : a : (15, walio Webbs’ conviction, tne state con tha shout the county, assisting ©
sil 45? a4 ee oe) LIP LAME LV oF P | bomen Aas by i o AYA + ’ adbili
i tO we s2omo?r Ghescs | tended robbery and rape were mio- “| with the distribution of victory gare
2 i \tives for the crime. The state con i : i
| es i oe : ; |den booklets and collecting and “Gis-
oe ae a 7,1 tended Mrs. Sellers, a beseans parlor! ‘tributing new suppli h ee
: Renresentatives of two schools aot as lured to the Aotel riputing new supplies for the vari-
tow , : fs | Operator, was lured to the note ON ous auxiliary units.”
haut) > konare a ial! | *
cg ig, Oe ee County Ty.|2 ,Pretext of neg tiating for the!
i Solusnelenn oF SHOOK ‘: in - . 2 + 1 ya! H
3 i . luncheon LS DOMES 01 pre Sage ‘sale of the peauty parlor there ae ay LO A SUGGE Pr fig rad
. aba WE Monday noon atiinicn Webbs was employed asi call ae Practhaginne
oS . i } 74 cguer 77 bal an] = o— Fieel ?
Rs ee Ax STV Wit, a7 Cz urht | vw fuss " ins - os 4 ive 2D
| he nga cance i ce : | “Every little bit helps” is the
| Webbs disappeared beiore the: oy: rrent “cag paign slogan for waste -
. ,body was iound. ie was & PPre- fat collectors on the eve of meat
Cdl ian will be honor red. The scnool: enced -<praetl 1942, at Fort rationing, Paul Ripp, grease col-
nie et eae ee re /Custer, Mich. shortly after enter- 1 chairman, vointe that
at baner was awarded the certificate a pies SOhy | Aon chairman, pointed out that
mi ot rig Lo . HOSS} '@ an j ,.
rent of honor ¢ of the National Tubereu-: 97° en eee at his trial tha ae se he Stele decrease ey weet
“aN€ losis association. The award, made; _‘VePbs comlenuws eee . {tats, the meed. is, still there and

‘another Spokane man commitied! every bit that cor
‘tion to the medalist the murder, gan Miteoe he was @, aces
rd made ie ist week ok t0 tue Hay-{ Witness to the slaying after two| L

pokes t in CRT “others had plotted with him to aot acini initia ean a

nes In can be used.

_through the Columbia Press con-

a perereee ry een

2 une! bene Mrs. Sellers. The two he named: mn rh os t.
; Press; . i PAR mh tea

/were muterial witnesses in the Case.

ron : 2 ONS T a> and lark | t :
uy Ph lees eee Lew ; Lsaineae *.They were released after the trialit |
webe he scnoo} Ca} a 7 -| é
acer srical contesig, ~The prison warden said W eons | :
: rict and state or cal contes . of i
f Se ee aa wulosig Spent his final hours calmly anc'i cd
snsored by the perculo: . ergy facts . | aoe
Sax oedema YG Wag ai oo cructon Jollowed spiritual advice from the)! es
4 and His speecn instrucvor, |, haniaiy Won! 4
¥ BUG, BA Us SIIED Ae EEC OF sD oy: Mr. Orgel, chapiain at Mon-)} wo
~..t Miss Anna...Beely, will be other! | one |
2 &S- . roe reforn ratory. \# ;
honor guests. ] ‘s = |
| pos
\ see at Si CV gn er cc j _ ep. te mics a t
| Elizabeth Tiadley was na med SLOGAN GGL 2 oe, Ae [ oun. P|

iar ann 7 } +! Ps ny ¥ ‘ nie ee es ey ae i: A

wi mat racing eciior ana hat Carter i wT Ls STE FAT ] i: TEED ; 4 ay \ t i
“tas sociale edi tor of the Page x Lewis; a lee iP Pk § NS 2 Le :
“ ‘and Clar! hich scho oi yvearbook,; Entries in the Boys and Girls’ |) so ee ee a
ry PCark G, Miller facuity adviser, said, Week slogan contest, TOM nae under | “Ae ne nena ae
wf ; fr Perham v lect-. way, must be in hy Wednesday,'} % .. 4 Pp etd e er
aed today. META + SEAT was select-| ee 24 Se eree a Dare Te lery ae |

in a democratic way o2 living.”« | repair workers, 150 demolition and:

r selina ~ ng
death chamber at 12:10 a. m., said} GSES, county coordinator, said to-.

.


(OTHE pasure|

“ living CGSiS |
/ speaker ems
in normaij

Ar expedic¢ nts. H
sg taken

par SOE com
rentsare fr
ai be used

re said. “Othe
TINY Ae ete
aree and may
itence some:

‘7 ihe e authori ty |
3 ndex numb

» our estimates!
“1S. : |
) cussed,
iacome in terms,
{o a discussion!

in the}
Powers |

er

oy part

* taxes; that
pay moré attention
.o to the quality of)
buy; that savings
there will bey

; ased incomes, |
eranly higher per-|
: vy one’s Income will)?
xes, The sug- te
as taxes be-|

ane ey sy
Lulae

1) a4 fn k

oy will be easier to}

ne scarcity of con- |

es |

WT OTRT |
Oa2N Aout

a me) ‘ e-) ayy ga! |

i

Miss Ruth |
"ten sh Hulda!
for erly of|

Gitbext Ly son
nest Gilbert, ;
been an-!

‘an meteorology.

es

» i
q PAT pA
Vea Salli Zat

1OnS

uson, Spokane
resident of
Sp Ranientier|

Colleg * ©.

¢ |

i §

ay + 2 '

surer; Ethel;

seranhook chair |

indo West, -C READ

a SS Nadine oo Si-
prozram; S

\, re porters Miss
ew, Seattle, can-

PS tas
Carncy,

ia

! 2
Suspected. He

2! Batth ic

th ag

Ss! pos!

(MONTGOMERY , Chester,alias)) black, Pa red Vashington <ippianeyi iON done,

Red Cross chapter. SIONG

wher
1.43 jp SPees
rthe actual slugging, yesterday leds on +}

|i Deputy Prosecutor "John Lally fo; pa
‘the spot at Washington and Sec ways
ond where the slugging took place! 6 f-
ihe night of January 19. Sherman iqe ,
is alleged to have confessed first’ ¢r.y
that Drookshire dit the siugging. posi!
Sherman allegediy said his part tn IK
the attack was to Tun uD and grab. the

Miss Jacobson’s handoag, hut he: oper:
asserted he lost mis nerve and did. gejip
not grab the purse after Miss tigns

Jacobson was hit.
. Both Brookshire

Ais

and Donovan Rany

were in jail on other charges witen ores
they confessed, authorities said. {been
er 7 ee iWrig

we se
IASHLEY EXPLA INS ein
: ithe ;

: + +5 RAJ ABBY TAT:
i | NE ny PRIM ARY LA W that
3 fe : LLO. hf

i | Party indorsement of primary!

' ;}élection candicates under a meas-: mx

| h% deen

ure approved by the recent legis-
L

; |lature would hamper the eiforts of; 7/7.
‘ |erackpots and radicals to ride in-; aw
: |to office on the wave ofa popular | ett en
. | ticket, Representative Fred C. Ash-|/. 0°
‘-lley said yesterday at a meeting of}. 7"
! | NUZU
' {the Spokane County Republican' day

; oe! 3

i SU, ‘Lor ne

Seth Richards, club president, |of a.
i discussed a proposal to circulate ainey
|petition asking congress to submit) p>

i

an

enna oe

rry
The

American Legion

ture, left to right,

preside ant, and Mrs. William T.

bershio committee.
Richard Matlock.
the membership

Hail, chai

In back are Mrs. Les
The latter two were hi
rive and were entertai?

auxiliary, post No. 9,
hotel,
front, Mrs. Ruby Sullivan,
rman of
Eeywood and

ship drive luncheon Tuesday at. the Desert
are, seated. i

ioh
ate

ned at

fa constitutional amendment limit-' Apri
had a member- jing the President of the United'poty
In the pic- |States to two terms. time

FRATERNITY TO DANCE.
The Scandimavian Fraternity of} Ni
America, lodge No. 12, will have|C. P
a card party and dance Saturdayja_ Jar
night in the Sons of Norway hall.; store

-

the mem-

irs.

point winners in
the luncheon.

Hall, prefect; Josepha!
Cecilia Bar-

Misses Olive
erboth, vice prefect
bieri, secretary

iurer, and chairman of the socia |:

SC

et

; Rose fey Shea, treas-'to

ho
eld
24.

ool for camp mechanics will

at Lewiston, Idaho, April 2

{| Members and their friends are in-! of 5
be. vited. C. H. Myhre, C. O. Carlson! com:

2:and Guanard Linden are in charge! $17 J
,of arrangements. 11941.

;committee, Sr ere
Rane see Pee, f 14 io)
Ce a
D WELL ’
Pe LIGB TEA © 2 smase
bi eed | ¥ CIS LLANES
Sifve a
ks 7 ;
ak Te 45
Coes web a
Benny Webbs, alias Chester.
Montgomery, ao-year-old Negro, isi:

hang at midnight to-
slaying of Mrs. Jessie

‘schedule a to
night for the

'Sellers.

Webbs, still reiterating his inno-
cence, is reporied “resting easy” in
the death cell at the state peni-
tentiary at Wala Walla.

The nude body of
white woman,

;

was found in

une, 1940., — porter in
a barber shop in the building, was

was aD ne hended in

Mich.,

Creek,

Mai
Wornan,
t Lewis and Clark

ler ausnices af tha

Mai

Sze, brilliant
Will sneak Briday evenit

Chin ese
ag td

high school une
Snoicane/ Yr

Mrs. Sellers, |
the|
elevator shalt of the Victoria hotel
in J

shortly after:

he was inducted inte the army.
Returned to Spokane, he was:
tried in dune, 1942, and found

He hasi;

said. that it he hangs he “will be};
back” to settie scores with those!
he blawien” tor his conviction.
His conviction ended a long
-isearch for the killer of Mrs. Sel-
lers and a year of court action.
écrested in Michivan,

-|guilty. The supreme court upheld}:

ae . ie
ithe conviction several months ago.:*
¥ LP eg « re fy
ee oh mee a
deaRWs 298
; “~
gay Sy

. ‘
pee
4
bi
, Ape
Ne
: Braise ee
! r
| : af
' p
‘ i
+ \ va
r en ho
: ‘ Fi é
% Rawr actaicnticiaecninnl Veswnveced, Glitets.
°°
2 oe, of nad s ofar 7 i} fj 1
i772 re foning ¥ Oi Gn setws i ai
“¢ q . rel Fs olees
foods has been announced sy ine gov-

ne govern

course, is to apportion the availad
civilian supply of race? on a share- ay
7 hy q _ . .
snare-cHike Sasis. ;
] ‘ ! i
it should be undorsicod, however, tact


-/ TNDIAN, MOOS Moos, panzed at. Walla Walla,Washington, on September 18, 187).

shite?

re t me oy v8
"8 Case of. Moos Moos, hanged at Walla Walla on 9-18-187) .

\ eer Gee eg 7 Ch
orn a . y? GA
y “i , j }

‘

Memo From: WATT, ESPY
C/O LAW LIBRARY —:— P. O. BOX 6205 —:— UNIVERSITY, AL. 35486
PHONE (205) 348-5925

"On Nov, 12, 1873, it was-discovered that a most terrible
. murder had been committed, the victim being a man usually
* known as tScotch Jimmy! but whose real name is James X
RXHX Corigle, He lived 9n a. little farm on Blue Breek
about 12 miles east of Walla Walla, The deceased was last
seen alive on ll-ll..and he then said that 2 Indians had
stayed at his house the night before, and he would not
allow them to stay again; that he had objected to their
staying byt finally consented, On the next afternoon,
Andrew Forney, a neighbor, was passing the house accompan-
ied by his wife and.litt]e girl, He sent the girl to the
house to get an ax, ‘After a little while she returned,
saying that she could not find one, Then Mr, Forney went
to the, house, opened the door, and went in, He noticed
that there was someone in the bed and called 'Jinm¥f,
On receiving no answer from the person in the bed, he put
his hand under the blankets and felt that the man's hand
was cold, He also noticed that the handle of an ax was
sticking out from under the blankets, This shocked him and
he at once left, supposing the occupant of the bed was dead
On going to the door, however, he saw KB 2 neighbors passi
the place and called them, On turning down the blankets
which had heen covering the man's face, a most ghastly
spectacle was presented, The body lay on the left side
with the right hand over the breast and was dressed only
in shirt and drawers. A common chopping ax was sticking
in the head and was almost buried out of Sight. It had
entered the right side of the head about the middle of the
ear, and had penetrated inward and upwards, going so far
that the edge had fractured the skull on the other side,
The ax was left in the wound and required a heavy force
to withdraw it at the time of the coroner's inauest,
A hatchet lay beside the bed and the deceased had a wound
on his chin, which was probably made by a blow from that
instrument after the ax had become fastened inthe head as
before mentioned, These parties did not disturb anything
but sent for the coroner immediately. On the next morning

Coroner Thibodo and a number of gentelemen from Walla Wall

SE TE ENDO ne Be


Pimtel |

went to hold an inquest. On examination it was found that’
the cabin had been robbed at the time of the murder and
that among other things,® a silver watch and some blankets
had been taken. In the evening before the murder. was
committed, an Indian was seen going on foot towards
Corigle's cabin, On the next day after, an Indian sold a
silver watch to a man in ‘ella Walla and then left. When if
was found that a watch had been taken from the deceased,
the watch sold was found and identified as the one which
belonged to the dead mane The circumstantial evidence
against the Indian is very stronge"

OLYMPIA TRANSCRIPT, Olympia, Vashe, 11-22-1873

'The Indian who murdered James Corrigle near “alla Walla
is suoposed to have fled to the Okanagan country e"

@ OLYMPIA TRANSCRIPT, Olympia, ‘ashe, 11-29-1873

fi, tan Indian was captured’ on KXRKX 12-1-1873 near Walla
y Walla who is thought to be the murderer of Corrigle,"

4 OLYMPIA TRANSCRIPT, Olympia, ‘ashes 12-6-1873


asing Gu 2-19-1926

be | RACE

cc

L
LL-E-/VF ZS


MUCH, Archie Frank, white, hanged Washington (Spokane) 9-12-1930,
(or MOOCK)

' ‘ 5 :
. H ' } is } iB:
es ; ? ‘ 4)
$ it 2 Pa af
is $35 ? ws
Ba H a
j Aa
‘ i &
m4 ul
By gee ot wit wt a oe .

ee 6 THE SPOKESMAN-REVIEW, SPOKANE, WASIT, Arpt jay 19

“ MOOCK’S WIFE SET CULBERTSON | Te Weath

LENIENCY IN GIRL CASE

Suspended Seutence on Youths De-

Ing to the delinquency of a Id-yenre
old girl. We was arrested on com-
plaint of Ed Lamke, E1121 Central,

loweat 50, mean 66,

nied Misconduct, % __Forenast for Wasrhinzton-
E LOYAL 10 EN D . ogee gv ne scneuee oe CREDITOR CASE tana” rae te
S é glven Joe Corlgiiano, 19, In police ‘ Tl erearrecnet tor. Montana; Fr
C court yesterday when ha was ar- : en.
; : , Yeaterday: Highest #2,
ralgned on a charge of contribut- 6 0 oe zo:
eta (ifanited to Spend Last Hours fewest Béy menn $0.” 8

Referes Wentworth Will Hear
' Preferred Stockholders’

5a.m,
Temperature, dry buib,.65.9 ¥

With Husband Before His Ex-

4 H . -* P re ab. 52.2 Reed
ss a” ecution at 4 A. M. Today. Who objected to the youth's atten-| , | Claims Sept. 23. Fat Naat Ce ca 8
vs ‘ tlons to his stepdaughter, The ‘ : Observations taken at & p.
/s roe i ‘}youth denied he had harmed the time, September 11, 1930.
ti girl. ’ A i ‘. img EH
pend SHE BECAME HYSTERICAL HAVE $100,000 STOCK 28 cf
5 : q a F c =o & 5
| ‘ Z ia a
Ile Was Calm at Their Parting BID ON HOWARD Contend They Should Have Same erations S2 <a
; : e3 &¢
—Vriest Visits Him—No * ae Ranking an General 23 BE
cae jt ache torn. 3 68
Ue es) STREET BRIDGE! ee ae
‘ ‘ 1 ss Seihencbik 23 has been set by Sid-| Rocvan to fe :
ig ne Be ; Mrs, Teena Moock spent severa ; ; ’ 23h een set by - | Borton 60 74 sages tg
Faby ae +A heels: pestatlag Wah” bar Aebane, Six Tenders Extend From $40,375] ney u. Wentworth, referee in bank- Aaontr He * i
; : eae Archie F, Moock of Spokane, who to $53,987 for South Chan- ruptcy, as the date for hearing legal Chicago Bf i6 can
V4 will go to his death early this morn- n arguments on the admissibility of [Denver ao 8 :
ing for she hatchet Wurdeno& Are. ; ee Btructare. , [Claims by preferred stockholders of | jaamenton so BS “#2
Catherine Clark of Boston near ef age ne yronstemesoky on the same hasis as| Cureka ... - of is
Spokane two years ago, says a wire ‘ : ‘ e general creditors of the bank- Galyeston 2
to Tho Spokesman-Review from ASK. 90 TO 150 DAYS rupt corporation. Holders of ap- poner 3 rf Hh
Walla Walla, She wanted. to spend]. ae : prpateiatesy er seasaes ene duncau.. 64 BA
ry ‘ the wholo day with him-and remain{ " -_ “stoc a tota ° , Out-| Kaliepel . 3366
is part of last night, but was dis-| Want #5000 to $10,000 Aaat-| standing have filed clatms for rank-| Kamloops s.esees Bt)...
“suaded because of her highly nerv- tlonal if Street Car Traffic ing as general creditors on the paces abt a 74
Nagi ine” ous and hysterical condition, which ‘ Sround that the corporation had Ton Aécelce 80 78
, me proved detrimental to nerves and to Is Maintained. agreed to buy back the stock. , Memphis ... 79 88
“P discipline at the prison. She plans gt: Sh Se O. W. Leggett, trustee for the New Orleans . 78 88

New York ...... 64 78
North Head ..... 56 64
North Platte . ‘a
Portland, Ore, .,. 38 66 | .¢
Prince Albert ... 4% 63
Roseburg ...sece 66 70
Sacramento .icoe 54 7
St. Louls ...e0.-- 66. 86
St, ‘Paul .cecsocee . 64> ..
Salt Lake ....0.. 56 68
San Diego ...60-. 62 7
San Francisco .. 60 79
Keattle ceesccsece SH 63
Spokane ......+00 St 69

creditors, has objected to the nac-
ceptance of the preferred stock
claims, on the ground that they are
a capital investment and can not
be classed as an indobtedness of the
corporation. The point Js further
made that if the Culbertson corpo-
ration has obligated. itself to pur-
chasé the stock out of its surplus
finds this situation ts altered when
the company is bankrupt and has
not sufficient assets to pay its reg-

to bring the body to Spokane,
‘ Moock {s to mount the gallows
about 4 a. m., Superintendent Clar-
{ i ence E. Long stated last. night.
Moock went through his last day
calmly, being less upset than his
wife when time for parting arrived.
Ho has maintained his calm from
the start. He recently took up re-
ligious faith and has been in con-
“ stant communication with his re-

‘Six bids were received by the city
council yesterday on the bridge of
steel girder and concrete floor con-
struction, to be built over the south
channel of the ‘river at Howard
‘streot. The bids were referred to
the commissioner of public works
and the city engineer. Bidders are
asking from $5000 to $10,000 addj-
tional if required to maintain street

ligious adviser, a priest, the Rev. car traffic during construction, | lar creditors. Ee Saas te nl rae - + a

we Father John Condon, visiting him| some would do the job jn 0 days,| Some of the preferred stockhold- | ratoosh island -. 64 68
FALE TENG daily, while others want 150 days. Fol-|¢'8 are represented by counsel and Walla Walla .... 68 70 .
Tho scaffold was completed last]}iowing are the bidders: others filed their claims without WU URRON, 4 o'o0.0e ss or us
night. Warden Long had made all|  giems-Spokane company, $43,450,|the aid of lawyers. Referee Went- Gude: ee

‘ arrangements to hold the execution

worth has advised holders of the
Vt at 12:05 Friday morning, but after

with $10,000 additional for main-~
preferred shares to be in no rush

taining car traffic; 120 days to

yeading the court order, changed the
time back to 4 a. m., as the judge
expressly ordered that Moock be
hangod “between 4 and 10 a. m.”
Unless the judges order otherwise,

complete,

Colonial Building company, $42,-
127, with $5000 additional for main-
taining car traffic; 150 days to com-
Plete.' ‘ : y

in filing their claims as whatever
decision is made will be available
to all alike, ‘The following pre-
ferred stock claims against Cul-
bertson’s have been filed with the

DILLS ENTER

referee:*
Charles Ts

it is expected future hangings will
be just after midnight, that guards

Morrison, Knudsen company, $40,-

375, with $6200 additional for main- Thompson...:,..$ 4,000

130. DEMO

.

and other officials may get some taining car traffic; 90 days to com-| Charles L. Withers.:......% 500
rest. This was to have been the] picte. engl “ MAUSUHMN ov eicods eee ger ’ -
first hanging under the new plan. Union Bridge company, $53,987, |1da Fischer ....i.ecewecseece 0 - - P
Three men have preceded Moock] with $10,000 additional for ain. |G. P. Daniel cwepertenes 105 Nominees, Committce)
on the gallows at Walla Walla since] taining car traffic; 90 days to com-| Martha Samuels .. 200 Wives Talk Over |
~~ he was taken to the penitentiary on| plete. Tudor TONES .eseeee . 500 P Se tee aioe
June 27,, Arthiir Schafer, Shelton| Portland Bridge company, $42,820, Clara Hortense Hood.......5 B20 for Campaign. Seo BT
Jogger, was hanged two weeks ago| with $10,000 additional for main- Walter Weber sesccovce £500 | cs tig pihicate eed
for the murder of a young. couple| taining car traffic; 150 days to com- BP. IL Tatham... + 27,500] .. , ‘ we.
near that town. Two others hanged | plete. : KOH, Latham .. INDEBTED TO MR
there within less than three months| Triangle Construction company, T A. Hartzell..i.. OO et
were Preston Rae Clark and Robert | $44.980, with $8000 additional to|/#¥a and John. Mars 800)... . ue fe
eptire - Lee Wilkins, both of Walla Walla. | maintain car traffic; 120 days to|J- JOWNEON ...eseeseeeees 15001 Revenl She Went From}?
{ Moock has been noncommittal| complete. : J. Re Nolen oo. ses eee ce eee 3,000] F
i about the crime for which he fs] Ten bids were opened on a 600{JOhnson-Bungay Fuel Go... 2,000 » Mouse Uraing Sapp

se power 6800-rallo and @1G:.O. Rowevan so. Aves cehee
Fee, ance ention pump and «TO gut cae sth

J. M. Dungan:..ccee
BODE OTC oss Ccais eee cos :
Elmendorf-Anthony Co. ieee | 7,500

about to die, Prison officials said
he has made no confeesion and that
his spirit remains unbroken,

U. 5. SENDS 12 TO CELLS

Dry-DIII Slate
2700-gallon pump. The motor and

one pump are needed for replace-
ment at the city water works and
the second pump {ts to provide for

, Senator and Mrs, C, C,
tained for the newly eles

serdn - MeNeil's Island Gets Six of Recent | 0" 50 fire hydrants hg ee Thompson ..........2. 6,600] for the democratle nom

bay WAI B 43i4 Convicts, for steam pumper. slds were re- Pacift Si B : b> county and Fiate offlec
A ferred to the commissioner of pub- |} cific Coast Biscuit Co, .. 2,000 id W508 Seventi

Twelve men, convicted during tho lic ulllities and the purchasing | Mildred Welch .....eesseuees 109 | residence, bsg Seven “
current term of federal court here, | arent é Edward F, Smith .......06.. 3,000] All the nominees were

were taken to prison yesterday by Mrs, W. J. Enright ....e00..  '100|% few were unable to at

deputy United States marshals to ‘|Lottie I, Ferguson .....eee- 709 | Nominees present were ¢

Dern eervihng terms. Mrs. Mary Sipfla ...sseeeeees 1,900 | Greenough for prosecutor;

Raymond Barber, 19, convicted of \ Mrs, Clara McDonald .......- 1,000] Miles for sheriff; fra, 3
theft trom the mails at Waterville, ' William P. Goodin ....eee.. 7,090 county schoot superinter:
Was taken to Monroe reformatory C. 1. Eggleston: ...ce0e 635 | Moliter for justice of the

Joun* Rh. Sublivaw fort st
sentative, Third district.

by Deputy’ Marshal Sibley to begin Mrs. N. EB. Sider’ .......5

~ OLD ESSIG HOME

Serving ole vear and one day. i
Six were taken to MeNeil's island F About 150 conmrltte
federal prison by Deputy Marshal VETERAN RAIL ; ' committecwomen and the
: Hilley, The number included Joe] Believe Rebuilding Can Not Be husbands, as the care

Were present.

Senator Dill made a bi
telling them he hoped t
Set together and elect
cratle nominees, and th»
thing they could do for ]
elect more democrats,

Schraner, o£; A, P. Moore, 49: Ray
Parker, 2°, and Robert S. Jackson,
50, all -ssullty) eC moonshining as
part of the Clara. Nichols Five-Milo

etill gang, nnd cach sentenced to # :
east SS year and a day, Their compan-
oe iY fons on the trip were Eddie Rose, USED

Done—Estimate Damage
Near $8000.

eS ee ec es

> BeAr ETE
ee a oe Vee eee aS eel

AS APARTMENT

ENGINEER DIES

James M, Morgan, Born at Walla

2%, nexro, ‘convicted of Mann act Walla in 1868, With 0.-W. The nominees disen,
Violation ond sentenced to a year woe os campaign plans, Refreshy
IIONSS esse ravine aly sch! Singar 99 L otra. Marte Derg Owner—Flames R : Hoi PT nc Piet Sone’,


MOOCK hi he emt aa tJ A CY, ct
MOOCK, Archi white, hanged WASP (Spokane) September 12, 19

&

Unraveling the Murder
of Spokane’s Mail
Order Bride

2 By Ex-Sheriff

. FLOYD BROWER
“a < of Spokane, Washington

As told to

HOLLIS B.
FULTZ

Archie Moock of Spokane The murder weapon, a

around whom. the police
hunt centered. There
seemed no end to his
ability to give innocent
answers to all questions

lath hatchet with hairs
clinging to it, the finding
of which only served to
further complicate the al-
ready confused man-hunt

The advertisement which
Mrs. Clarke inserted in
amatrimonial
bureau’s magazine

ae home from

my office on an afternoon in the
summer of 1928 I passed through that
portion of Spokane, Washington, mainly

soapbox on the corner a strange doctrine was be-

ing expounded; the theory of man and super-man.
“Everything I do is right,” said the speaker. “So, when
anyone says | am wrong I pay no attention to it. What
was wrong years ago is right today. That is the true road
to success.”

I glanced about at the crowd, composed almost’entirely
of laborers. They drank in avidly every word the speaker
uttered.

“Dangerous teachings,” I thought as I walked away, “es-
pecially if some medium-wit becomes imbued with the idea
that he is a super-man.”

The speaker’s name | learned was “Jerusalem Slim,” and
in addition to his street lectures he gave private lessons and
sold pamphlets more fully explaining “The Law of Life.”
| had some idea such talk should be suppressed, but becom-
ing engrossed iri other matters, I soon forgot*the incident,
until it was recalled in a manner most weird.

It was on a Sunday afternoon more than three months
after I first heard Jerusalem Slim that Deputy Glenn
“Scotty” McEwen phoned to say that the body of an un-
identified woman had been found in a gully on an aban-
doned farm, .a few miles outside the city.

Grover Tyree, a mill-worker had gone to “Foothills
Farm” to pick prunes. With Tyree was his small son and
a man named Frank Winklebeck, The boy became thirsty,
for it was a hot, dry fall day, September 23rd. The prunes
were loaded in the back of the car, and Tyree had stepped

taken up. with workingmen’s hotels. From a.

on the © starter
when his son let out
another plaintive plea
for a drink of water. Tyree
got out of the car and went
down into the gully beside the.
road.

Tyree found no water, but at the
edge of the dry-stream-bed, he came sud-
denly upon a horrible and unexpected sight.
At his feet, unburied, lay the body of a woman.
Her ‘head had been battered in and a crimson stain
matted her hair and clothes.

Still more significant was the freshness: of the corpse;
the body was hardly cold in death. The crime had been
committed but a few hours. The crimson stains were not
all dry!

Tyree scrambled back up the hill and told Winklebeck
what he had found. Winklebeck sought a phone and noti-
fied my office. Deputies-McEwen and Hadley hurried out to
“Foothills Farm.”

One glance and they sent for Deputy Coroner Collins.

But while the deputy coroner was on his way to the farm,
events happened with startling rapidity!

There was nothing about the body which offered imme-
diate promise of identification, so the deputies began to
search the brush. A trail of blood spots led from the road-
side and the top of the gulch, to where the body lay. There
were crimson stains beyond. the barbed-wire fence which
separated “Foothills Farm” from the highway; stains, that
is, by the roadside. This led immediately to the conclusion
that the woman had been’ struck down upon alighting from
the car, and then rolled into the ravine.

Merest chance had led to the discovery of the body. In
another week the fruit would have been beyond harvesting,
and the chances ten thousand to one against the finding
of the corpse before decomposition.

The sun had set and it was rapidly growing dark, when
after an hour’s search Deputy Hadley stumbled over some
object projecting from the ground. Stooping, Hadley arose
with a hatchet in his hand.

As McEwen and Hadley stood gazing at the lather’s tool,
in the dim glare of the flashlight, Tyree approached. But
suddenly Tyree paused; rooted in his tracks, his face a
chalky white; he could not speak. His lips moved, but the
words did not come.

“What’s the matter with you?” jerked out McEwen.

“That—that—hatchet,” slowly answered Tyree.

“Well, what about it?” snapped the deputy.

“My God man, it’s—it’s—it looks like mine!” stammered
out Tyree.

Even in that feeble light the two deputies could see that
the hatchet handle had been carefully wiped. Blood was
smeared along the rough hewn handle and there would be
no finger-prints for identification. McEwen and Hadley
glanced at each other. The deputies’ minds were running
in the same channel. Tyree seemed to know a lot. But
why had Tyree identified the hatchet when it could not

/


Re

vouldn’t do
ymore than

ce up Mc-
Who bor-

ntly = an-
3 name is
is a labor-
fe and five
rd-working
and he
ly. He said
w the car,
to take a
country. I
ont of my
rning.

e five dol-
use of the
r with my
id she said
ad charged
So when
started for
this morn-
»ck’s house
ome of the

d his wife
out to the
been with
get some
Moock
hem have
of the day,
‘p the rest
rent. But
ady made
them.”
Sheriff P”
en Tyree

said, “and
ry.”
numbered
itances an
ged labor-
attending
isiness but
\ neighbor
me-loving
ldren and
bligations,
‘nded_ his
ve known
ie Moock.
loock and
the way
Ve had to
omething,
d to come
man visit-

Catherine

lat is the
red. “But
Foothills
ind Tyree
your hus-
rker”

The Clue of the Buried Love-Letters 9

“Why certainly Archie could
identify her,” replied Mrs.
Moock. “But I don’t see how
anything could have happened
to her. She went out last night
to marry James Murphy, the
man she came West to see.”

Archie Moock accompanied
us to the morgue.

“Why, it is Mrs. Clarke,”
Moock exclaimed upon seeing
the body, “but I can’t believe
Jim Murphy would have done
a thing like that. I just can’t
believe it.”

It looked a lot like some-
body had blundered, and that
somebody was doing a lot of
passing the buck. Here was
Tyree’s hatchet found by the
woman’s body, and Tyree was
sure the man he had loaned
his car to was incapable of
murder. Now here was the
man who had borrowed the
car, and he was sure that Jim
Murphy, the man Mrs, Clarke
was to meet couldn’t have
murdered her, and just then
the finger of suspicion pointed,
damningly toward  Archié

\

Moock, the mild-mannered 1a :

borer.

BUI maybe the answer to
the riddle lay with Jim
Murphy? Who and where was
he? That became our next
problem. We asked Moock to
tell his story and all that he
knew about James Murpay.
We listened, amazed as
Moock’s story unfolded. Un-
questionably this man was
either the dupe of a “murder”
ring, or else he was one of the
most cunning murderers in the
country, whose plans had gone
awry, only through the inter-
vention of Fate, when a child
pled for a drink of water.
According to Archie Moock
he had met James Murphy at
the Hedlund mill, where the
two were employed together.
One day during the noon hour
Murphy asked Moock to
help him get in touch through
a matrimonial agency with
some woman who wished. to
marry. Murphy gave up his
job at the mill shortly there-

after said Moock. Moock said that
secured from an Eastern Matrimonial Agency was that of

ALP (SOL
7

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Let. E01 bal yd +c

7

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the OS HOWE Pay. Aty yous it LE “be fF ead
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The third page of the James Murphy had instructed her to come to the address

letter shown on the left. of his friend, in case he, Murphy, was unable to meet the

fer i Ro pages be train.

oe ee Most of Friday Mrs, Clarke remained in bed, but she
was up when Moock came home from the mill. Moock left

among the names he had __ the house and went out to see if he could find Murphy.

Moock said he wandered about for sometime, looking

Mrs. Catherine Clarke. Moock said he saw Murphy from into pool-halls and other loafing ‘places of Murphy’s. And
time to time and asked how the love affair was coming when Moock mentioned as a usual loafing place of Murphy

along.

the exact section of Spokane where I had heard Jerusalem

“O. K.” Murphy was supposed to have replied, “she’ll Slim spouting his doctrine, thoughts of the street orator

be coming out one of these days.”
Catherine Clarke arrived in Spokane on Friday morning,

immediately flashed into my mind.
“What kind of a fellow was this James Murphy?” |

September 21st, traveling light, and took a taxi immedi- asked, “Was he temperate? Did he have any religion?
ately to the Moock home. Archie Moock was at work, but Did he go to your church?”

Mrs. Clarke introduced herself to Mrs. Moock, and said

“1 don’t think he drank much,” answered Moock, “at


ok

Pate a aE

8 The Master Detective

fanistiepes,
Lz /7 Har fav Be.
> fod Keane ook
aug tI Tet

“hig fied. bs hued,
: Y 4 bfltat Gece sof oe 4a nlc
ge Dhl fend pr tae nat polio po

Ge wie Ctl eo Pica va ra} te wend t”

bs S/ wrehe Bait, tat EF (adwage shk ot

é Vaatadd eT a mth gi. Cut one goed - perl Coul-
Cae, Ake gf mecete tM ighke ret Elle
ew Law pine hat og oor fhe we
AP (8 tef 2 AME tT Herow’- wi Yow ee fee
eee i eee Celle, Pree
Dore aachee pred haves nS Lesa: At thie

ae 2 i wan ae a ES feck

loaned that car to wouldn’t do
a thing like that, anymore than
I would.”

“Come on,” spoke up Mc-
Ewen, “‘let’s have it. Who bor-
rowed your car?”

“Well,” reluctantly = an-
swered Tyree, “his name is
Archie Moock. He is a labor-
ing man, with a wife and five
children. He is a hard-working
Christian fellow, and he
wouldn’t kill anybody. He said
he wanted to borrow the car,
or rather rent it, to take a
friend out into the country. |
found the car in front of my
house early this morning.

“Wpoock paid me five dol-

lars for the use of the
car. I talked it over with my
wife this morning and she said
she thought that I had charged
Moock too much. So when
Winklebeck and | started for
the Foothills Farm this morn-
ing I went by Moock’s house
and gave him back some of the
money.

“TI told Archie and his wife
that we were going out to the
place where they had been with
us last Sunday to get some
more fruit. Mrs. Moock
wanted me to let them have
the car for the rest of the day,
and said I could keep the rest
of the money for the rent. But
I had my plans already made
and couldn’t change them.”

“Well what now, Sheriff?”
asked McEwen, when Tyree
had finished.

“Go get Moock,” I said, “and
we will check this story.”

If you have ever numbered
among your acquaintances an
industrious, middle-aged labor-
ing man, always attending
strictly to his own business but
ever ready to help a neighbor
in distress; a home-loving
father, kind to children and
wife, honest in his obligations,

have been identified by anyone else we knew of?

Turning the body over to the coroner, McEwen and Had-
ley brought Tyree and Winklebeck to town, and I got into
the case.

“How do you think Tyree will account for his hatchet
being there?” I asked McEwen.

“Oh,” answered the deputy, “he'll probably say he lost
it, or loaned it to someone.’

“Bring him in,” I ordered.

“Tyree,” I said, “you are in a tough spot, unless you can
prove how that bloody hatchet got to. Foothills Farm:”

“I know it,” said Tyree, “there is no denying that fact.
And that’s my hatchet. I know it by the handle. I made
that handle myself. I left the hatchet in the car last night,

and I loaned the car to a friend. And that’s what puzzles:

me. That’s why I hate to say anything. Why the fellow I

who regularly attended his
church; then you have known

Photostatic copy of one of such a man as Archie Moock.

the love letters written by We met Archie Moock and

“James Murphy’”’ to the hi ite T h ,
lonely widow IS wile Leena on the way

home from church. We had to

tell Mrs. Moock something,
when we informed her that we wanted her husband to come
to my office. We inquired if there had been a woman visit-
ing at her home within the past few days.

“Why yes,” she replied, “there has. A Mrs. Catherine
Clarke; what about her?”

“Well, we don’t know anything about her. That is the
first time we have ever heard the name,” | answered. “But
a woman has been found murdered out on the Foothills
Farm. Grover Tyree’s hatchet was found nearby, and Tyree
says he rented his car, with the hatchet in it, to your hus-
band, last night. Could Archie identify Mrs. Clarke?”

Postscript ending of letter sent by “James Murphy” to Mrs.
Clarke on July 21st, 1928. Note the insidious protestations
of faithfulness which the widow accepted with absolute trust

least | didn’t think so then. But he wasn’t religious; at
least not the way I was. He talked to me about a fellow
he called Jerusalem Slim, and he said people were saps
to believe all the old stories about religion.”

I catalogued that last statement for future reference.

“Late Friday afternoon,” said Moock, “a boy approached
me on the street near the pool-hall and wanted to know if
I was Archie Moock. When I told him that was my name
he handed ge a letter. The letter was from Murphy and it
contained an enclosure for Mrs. Clarke.”

“Who was this boy?” I asked.

“I never saw him before,” answered Moock. “but he was
about eighteen years old and had on overalls. I guess some-
one must have pointed me out to him. Murphy must have
told him where I would be most likely found. He knew
Mrs. Clarke was coming of course. He had sent her to my
house, and he knew that when he didn’t show up | would
be looking for him about his usual haunts.”

ON Saturday morning, Moock said, he went to work
again at the mill, as usual. That same day he made
arrangements with Tyrée to borrow the car, for in the letter
of Friday, Murphy had asked Moock to bring Mrs. Clarke
to the home of a Mrs, Carlton, sister of Murphy, who lived
about a mile across the Idaho state line.

Murphy explained, according to Moock, that the house
would be easily found, because it could be seen from the
highway, and because of its size. Murphy was ill, according
to the letter, and thus he explained his reasons for not meet-
ing Mrs. Clarke.

Reassured by the letter from her fiancé, Mrs. Clarke
went shopping on Saturday with Mrs. Moock. She bought
a few things to make herself more presentable to her lover.

After the evening meal Moock went to Tyree’s and got
the car. Returning to his own home Moock said he found
Mrs. Clarke ready to depart. She came out of the house
carrying a hat-box, containing most of her belongings.

Moock said he then drove through Spokane and out
“Apple Way,” toward the Idaho line, They had gone prob-
ably twenty miles Moock said when he began to look for
the Carlton house. After a couple of hours search without
results, Moock said he turned into another road. He had
gone about a mile up this side-road when he was overtaken
by a large car. — .

“Murphy was in the car and there was another man with
him called’ Jake,” said Moock. “I introduced Mrs. Clarke

pe: ethefl hase 4 Lenil te Bd foie Ag ae

to Murphy, who kidded us about not being
able to find the place. He told Mrs. Clarke
her instinct should have guided her to her
future husband.

“Then, in celebration of the occasion,
Murphy brought a few bottles of beer from
his ‘car and opened them. | seldom take a
drink, but, at such a time I thought it
would do no harm to drink a bottle of beer,
so I drank.

“I woke up at daybreak fo find myself
alone,” concluded Moock. “Murphy, Jake
and Mrs. Clarke and the car they were in
were gone. I think that beer was doped.”

Archie Moock had told a weird and al-
most unbelievable, yet not at all impossible
story; certainly it could be true. Many
people were inclined to believe Moock had

Sheriff Brower (left) and Deputy Sheriff McEwen (right) at
the exact spot in Archie Moock’s garden where they dug up the
money and love letters. They are holding out samples of both

told the absolute truth; especially were his friends con-
vinced of Moock’s veracity in the matter. As for myself, |
hardly knew what to think. So, abandoning all question of
who might or might not have the dastardly courage to carry
out such a deed, I mentally took apart the different indi-
viduals whom I felt might be in some manner connected
with the murder.

It was hard to dismiss as a coincidence the fact that Tyree
had found the body and then almost immediately identified
the murder weapon as his own hatchet. It was just as hard
to’ dismiss as a coincidence the fact that this same mur-
dered woman had but a few hours previous been the occu-
pant of this same Tyree’s car. However, Tyree’s utter frank-
ness and Moock’s own admission that he had borrowed the
car from Tyree, in my mind eliminated Tyree from sus-
picion.

Then there was Teena Moock, wife of Archie Moock and


out not being
i Mrs. Clarke
2d her to her

the occasion,
of beer from
eldom take a
I thought it
sottle of beer,

> find myself
Aurphy, Jake
they were in
was doped.”
veird and al-
all impossible
true. Many
e Moock had

en (right) at
ty dug up the
iples of both

friends con-
for myself, |
ll question of
urage to carry
different indi-
ner connected

ict that Tyree
tely identified
s just as hard
is same mur-
een the occu-
s utter frank-
borrowed the
ree from sus-

ie Moock and

The Clue of the Buried Love-Letters 1]

mother of his five children, I recalled that she had tried
to get Tyree to let her have the car when she learned that
Tyree had intended going to “Foothills Farm that fatal
day. Also, she had apparently with consent, allowed her
husband to drive away into the night with a strange wo-
man for a companion. Was it possible that this kindly
housewife was a party to the diabolical plot to kill Catherine
Clarke? That was something else I couldn’t believe.

Well, then what could I believe? There still remained
James Murphy, the mystery man, And Murphy’s friend
Jake. Were they the real murderers? Was Archie Moock,
and possibly his wife Tenna, “fall-guys” for a pair of mail-
order murderers named “Jim” and “Jake?”

And there was Archie Moock, himself. How could he
have lured Catherine Clarke from her home in the East
without the knowledge of his wife? So after all things had
been considered it seemed the next natural Step in the in-
vestigation was to find James Murphy. There had been no

% ’ Go eae k PC me
2 2 th d

one recently by the name of
Murphy on the pay-roll of
the Hedlund mill. But many
men had been employed for
a short time only, and any-
one of these might have been
Murphy, under a different
name from the one given
Moock. In fact we found one
such instance, but it didn’t
happen to be the right man.

“Moock,” I asked the man
whom we were holding as a
material witness, “what did
you do with the letter which
you got from Murphy asking
you to bring Mrs. Clarke to
meet him?”

“I’m sorry,” replied Moock,
“but I threw it into the kit-
chen stove. I had no idea I

would ever netd it.” Moock seemed apologetic and sincere.

We were unable to find any sixteen-room house occupied
by a Mrs, Carlton, near the Idaho line, as supposed to have
been described in the letter which Moock said he had de-
stroyed. Nor could we get any track of the Murphy we
sought through the auto license department. We found ex-
actly nothing of a material nature to substantiate Moock’s
story of James Murphy.

But, I reasoned, if Moock was just a “fall-guy” wouldn’t
this be the natural sort of thing to expect? Wouldn’t this
clever covering of the trail, using Moock for a decoy, and
leavirig him to hold the sack, be a part of the well-laid plans
of thé real killer? I thought ft would. ;

We now decided to question Mrs. Moock and ascertain
if her story would substantiate that of her husband. The
pair had been separated so soon after the finding of the
body that there had been little chance for the building of a
joint alibi following the murder.

Teéna Moock was very frank, and her story of her hus-
band’s movements coincided exactly with his own tale.
Except, that she gave us one little bit of information which
Moock in his surprise had evidently forgotten about. For
it was from Mrs, Moock that we first learned of the exis-

tence of a leather hat-box, used as a suit-case by Mrs.
Clarke,

Moock had made no mention of the hat-box in his con-

versation with us, but Mrs. Moock revealed that when
her husband came back from his all-night jaunt, he brought
Mrs, Clarke’s hat-box with him.

“Where is the hat-box?” | asked.

“I'll get it for you,” said Mrs. Moock, and she brought
it from an adjoining room.

We searched the hat-box, and there, without any attempt
at coricealment, we found a bank-book revealing that Mrs.
Clarke had drawn about $2,000 from a Boston bank shortly
beforé she started West. ;

Until we found the bank book we really had no definite
clue aS to a motive. The bank book made it plain that the
dead woman had possessed considerable money. No money
was found on her person and there was none in the hat-
box. We were now sure that robbery supplied the motive
for the killing.

“Did Mrs, Clarke say anything about having any money

Thé automobile of Grover Tyree which he loaned to Archie
ke and ih which Tyree swore he left the lath hatchet,
latér identified as the murder weapon

campntg gree sew cen


12 The

while she was here?” I casually questioned Mrs. Moock.

“Oh yes,” replied the housewife, “we started down town
shopping on Saturday. She wanted to get a few things
to make herself presentable before her sweetheart.
She had a photograph of herself in a round frame.
She tapped the back of the photo and said, ‘That’s my
bank.’”

We searched everywhere but found no trace of the lost
photograph. It seemed a strange thing for Moock to re-
turn that hat-box to his own home, unless his story was
true.

“Do you know a man named James Murphy?” we asked
Mrs. Moock. “Has he ever been to your house?”

“1 know who he is,’ said Mrs. Moock, “my husband
pointed him out to me on the street one day, but he has
never been to our house that I know of.”

“WEREN'T you a little afraid to let Archie go off alone
like that at night, in a car with another woman?” |
asked.

“My husband is an honest, faithful father,” said Mrs.
Moock, rising instantly to her mate’s defense. “He could
go to the end of the earth with another woman and come
home just as pure as when he left.” Of such was the faith
of Teena Moock.

We told Moock about finding the hat-box in his home.
He said he had forgotten to mention it, but that he had
found the hat-box still in the car when he awakened along-
side the road after his night’s sleep.

We had obtained nothing ‘of an incriminating nature
from the Moock home, but I was convinced that the round-
picture frame used as Mrs. Clarke’s bank, was an im-
portant clue in solving the mystery of Catherine Clarke’s
murder.

But, on an afternoon two days later, little Josephine
Clarke, living at East 2507 Sixth Avenue, returning from
school, noticed some torn pieces of paper, just scraps,
and a broken picture frame lying beside the road. The

(Below) Tire mark left by car in Lindelle Place and which
the police proved was made by Grover Tyree’s car

Master

Detective

spot was in the general vicinity of the Moock and Tyree
homes.

“That looks very much like the frame Mrs. Clarke's
picture was in,” said Mrs. Moock. The picture was
gone.

Whoever had robbed Mrs. Clarke had thrown away
the “bank” very near the Moock residence. Would Moock
himself have done such an unreasonable thing? I had to
admit the frame of the picture looked like a plant.

But what about the torn scraps of a letter? One of those
bore the name James Murphy; the mystery man. The sig-
nificant thing however was that the address under the name
was “East 2217 Hartson Avenue,” and that was the address

(Above) Deputy Sheriff
Griffin indicating the rose-
bush where the broken pic-
ture frame, which once con-
tained the photograph of
Mrs. Clarke, was found

of Archie Moock! It was
just a scrap; just a corner
off a page of a letter; but
it suddenly assumed great
importance.

We did not go to Archie
Moock with the scrap of
paper; we went to Mrs.
Moock.

“Well,” said Mrs. Moock,
“what’s so strange about
that? Several letters came
here for Mr. Murphy from
Mrs. Clarke. He was mov-
ing about quite a bit and
he often had his mail sent
here,” ,

So, once more we had hit
a blind trail, when we
thought we had a promis-


id Tyree

Clarke’s
ure was

n away .

1 Moock
| had to

of those
The sig-
he name
: address

Sheriff

2 rose-
2n pic-
se con-
ph of
found

It was
corner
ar; but
{ great

Archie
rap of
) Mrs.

Moock,
about
came
from
5 mov-
it and
il sent

ad hit
n we
romis-

ing clue. But experience told us never to give up,

Archie Moock, still in jail, held as a material wit-
ness, began to grow impatient, and to appeal to his
friends. The prosecutor had intimated to the press
that things looked bad for Moock. Moock had some-
thing to say about that:

“It seems to me the prosecutor just wants to get
somebody’s neck in a noose, But I can see how his
mind works. When they found the hatchet they
thought it was Tyree; when they found I had Tyree’s
car they thought it was me.

“Why don’t they get Jim Murphy instead of sus-
picioning everybody and letting him get clean away.

He murdered the woman and ran away and left it to look
like me, and I can prove it!

“I am in a terrible position but someday | will find Jim
Murphy.”

Friends, associates, members of the church, flocked to the
assistance and comfort of Archie Moock. He was, they
said, the dupe of a murder ring. And there came from
Eastern sources confirmation of their contention. The
other women around Boston and Philadelphia had received
letters from James Murphy, proposing marriage. Unluckily,
none of these women*had preserved the letters.

Now in my office, at the time of the Clarke murder, as
Chief of the Bureau of Investigation, was a shrewd crim-
inologist—Deputy Lawrence Albert. He felt that within
the borrowed car might lie the solution to the baffling mys-
tery. Albert questioned Tyree at length, then he went over
the car inch by inch.

Among other things Tyree mentioned that he had checked
the mileage on the car when he loaned it to Moock, and
again when the car was returned. The total for the trip,
according to Tyree, was fifty-six miles,

With this, and certain other information gained from
Tyree, Albert decided to test Moock’s story of the happen-
ings of the fateful night, by asking Moock to take the officers
over the route he had driven the Tyree car on the night of
Mrs. Clarke’s disappearance. Moock readily assented. He

(Above) The right rear tire of Grover Tyree’s car which
left a peculiar tread imprint—an imprint that enabled
the police to close in on Spokane’s super-criminal

took them over what he said was his entire route; and the
speedometer showed only forty miles! Considerable of a
discrepancy with Tyree’s information.

“Something wrong here,” Albert reported, and went back
with the other deputies to see if he could find the sixteen
miles which Moock had omitted.

Deputy Albert had an idea he might be able to trace the
Tyree car, for Albert had found a break in the right rear
tire, which made a distinct identifying mark on the ground.
The dirt in the road above the spot where the body was
found had been so badly trampled that no tracks were there
distinguishable. Albert, however, kept up the search.
Finally he found a boy named Roland Lindelle, who said he
had heard a car come into the lane near their house on
Saturday night, and turn around.

HE entrance to the lane referred to by Roland Lindelle

was only half a mile from Foothills Farm. And there,
in the dust of the barnyard were the signs which Albert
sought. The broken tread in the right rear tire showed con-
clusively that the Tyree car had been within half a mile
of where the body was found. Moock’s route had not taken
the officers near this spot.

Such evidence was, of course, not conclusive, but, we felt
it might shake Moock in case he was lying. When ques-
tioned Moock cooly replied:

“You fellows are sure determined to pin this murder on
mé, aren’t you? How do I know where the car was driven
after I was drugged?”

“That guy knows too many answers,” remarked Deputy
McEwen, as we left Moock’s cell.

“He sure does,” I replied, “and (Continued on page 61)

evn ae ee ee oe

62

She was lonely and tired of her lot.
So she inserted an advertisement in the
organ of the matrimonial agency. Then
she waited and hoped. One day there
came a letter from James Murphy. ~

Carefully, shrewdly, with infinite
pains, the man who signed himself
James Murphy, led Catherine Clarke
toward the end of the rainbow. He had

- need of $2,000, but he did not want her

to give the money to him; he could
never think of living on her bounty. He
had $8,000 in cash, and as soon as he
had $2,000 more he would be able:to

get his inheritance of $100,000.~-His:

father had left him this huge amount
under provision that he have $10,000

by October Ist, of that year. All they .
had to do was show the $10,000 to the ;

“nasty, little old lawyer,” and get the
money. Then they would take a long,
long honeymoon. That was to ‘be in
Europe. In order that her brother
might not worry about her Catherine

Ex-Sheriff Floyd Brower, author and
chief investigator in this startling -
story of Spokane’s mail order bride

Clarke. confided this much of her love
affair to him.

But, in. the scheming mind of the
fiend who penned. the love notes, Cath-
erine Clarke was to spend an endless
honeymoon in the gulch at. Foothills
Farm; and death was to be her groom.

While her brother believed her. in Eu-.
rope rain and sun, and winter’s ‘blast,. ’

would bleach her bones beyond recog-
nition.

"THEN came a picture; whose picture
will never be known, It was. sup-
posed to be a picture of James Murphy,
and it probably: was not a picture’ of
Archie Moock. The picture had’ been
returned to the sender.

After a while, trembling’ that, her.

new found admirer might not be
pleased. with her appearance, Cather-
ine Clarke sent her own picture.

That gave James Murphy a.chance
to become effusive; ardent love letters
followed in rapid succession, and finally
Catherine Clarke decided to come
West. Following instructions she’ got

fa

The Master’ Detective

her money together in cash, and hid it
in the picture frame, behind her own
picture which had also been returned
to her.

“Do not keep all the money in your
bag or purse, dear,’ read the letter
with final instructions from Murphy,
“put it under your clothes, upon your
person, your dear body. I suppose you
will remember we will need it in cash.
And say, Catherine dear, will you bring
the letters I wrote along? We will read
them over, yours and mine, and we will
have fun. That is, if you have not al-
ready destroyed them.”

That last letter also instructed Mrs.
Clarke to go to the home of. Murphy’s
friend, Archie Moock, at E. 2217 Hart-
son Avenue, in case the prospective hus-
band did not meet the train.

Thus was the trap set—by whom?
Was there a James Murphy, or was
Archie Moock also James Murphy? . I
marveled at the self-possession of this
man when I realized that if he was
Archie Moock these long letters, some
of them covering several pages, must
have been penned in his own home,
while his wife and children sat in a
nearby room.

As we perused the letters | found one

that had a corner torn off. The missing
corner was found to be the piece of
paper discovered by the school girl at
the time the picture frame was found.

in seemed the next step was to try

and establish the handwriting on the
letters. We had certain specimens of
what we believed were Moock’s hand-
writings, but we had no way to prove
this. In reading the “Murphy” letters
we noticed that the word “except” had
several times been misused for the
word “‘‘accept.” We told Moock that he
would have to give the head jailer au-
thority to inspect all his articles before
we could let the articles go into his cell.
Moock ‘agreed and gave us the follow-
ing note: |

To THE HEAD TRUSTEE:
This will be an authority: to in-
spect articles for me before I except
them.: ‘
ais ArcuiE F, Moock.
Unquestionably . Archie Moock had
written all. of the James Murphy let-

ters, as we further determined by con-

sulting Luke S. May, Seattle criminolo-
gist, as.a handwriting expert.-

Confronted with this evidence Moock
admitted he wrote the letters, but said
he only copied them for James Murphy.
“He gave me. $2.00 foreach letter |

wrote,”said Moock. .““He didn’t ‘want.
to “write them himself~ because. ‘he’

wanted to get a look at the woman he

was intending to: marry before’ he took °
the last step: He was afraid if he didn’t -
like her’ and backed‘ out ‘at the: last“
minute,.she would: have the letters to ‘

sue him for breach’ of promise.”

Teena Moock said'she knew the let-

ters were coming to the house and that
she also knew that her husband was
writing to Mrs. .Clarke for * James
Murphy. Apparently there was no end
to this man’s alibi’s;° but they had
ceased to impress us now. Pons
Moock was charged with murder in

the first degree. He stuck steadfastly to
the James Murphy tale, and many,
looking at the man’s past record were
still inclined to believe the tale. They
felt the plot too shrewd a one for a
man of Moock’s intelligence. They be-
lieved the master mind of James Mur-
phy was the answer to the strange pre-

‘dicament in which Moock found him-

self.

At the trial Prosecutor Greenough
stayed strictly to the material facts as
they had been unearthed, entirely ig-
noring the Moock alibi.

Grover Tyree presented still further
damaging testimony which seemed to
show Moock’s preconceived intention to
take the woman to the lonely spot
where she was murdered. Tyree said
that Moock first approached him to
borrow the car more than a week be-
fore the arrival of Mrs. Clarke. This
tore down Moock’s statement that he
did not try to get a car until he had re-
ceived word from Murphy, after Mrs.
Clarke’s arrival in Spokane.

PROSECUTOR GREENOUGH re-

constructed for the jury his theory of
how the crime was accomplished. He
contended that Archie Moock, after
driving about the countryside arrived at
a spot where he told Mrs. Clarke to
alight. That spot was beside the road,
above the gulch, where the body was
found. Some of Mrs. Clarke’s things
were in. the back of the car. As she
reached in to get them there was a cer-
tain and swift blow with Tyree’s lathe

Deputy Lawrence Alvert whose keen |

detective work in checking the mile- :

age of the borrowed car on the night ,

_of. the murder against the route.

Moock claimed he’ had taken’ did

much to solve the murder of Mrs.
Clarke

hatchet. The moon made the night as

clear as day, and the wielder of the

‘ hatchet did not miss; the blade sunk

deep into the victim’s skull. Then the

‘murderer shoved the body under the

fence. In so doing he left a little blood
on a nearby mower tongue; there were
blood-stains along the sides of the steep
hill. There were other blows, and Cath-
erine Clarke had kept her appointment
with death. The murderer loafed about

sawp

December, 1932

The Master Detective

The Clue of the Buried Love Letters

(Continued from page 13)

if he is guilty we are going to have to
find some questions he can’t answer.”

I had a hankering to search the
Moock home. But in order to search a
private home you must have a search
warrant, and in order to obtain a search
warrant you must name the object for
which you are searching. For what
would we search in the Moock home?
The body, weapon, and the luggage of
the slain woman had been recovered.
The picture frame, supposed to hold
her money had been found outside the
house and off the Moock property. It
looked as though my hankering couldn’t
be satisfied.

Nevertheless we had one chance; if
Mrs. Moock offered no objections we
could make the search. We went to the
Moock home. “Search all you please,”
said Mrs. Moock, “we have nothing to
hide.”

| DON’T know just what the other

boys expected to find, but I had been
turning over in my mind the attitude
and character of Archie Moock. If he
was guilty how in the world had he
come to commit so strange a crime?
And where had he become imbued with

an inspiration that would suddenly‘
change a kindly, home-loving Christian °

father, into a fiend who could foully
cleave a defenseless woman’s skull with
a lathe hatchet ?

Searching Moock’s room I came at
last across a bundle of his writings. He
seemed to have been copying some
sort of a screed, over and over. Mingled
with these writings were pamphlets; the
works of Jerusalem Slim!

“T see right. I feel right. I think
right.” had been copied over and over.

“Who was Adam and why was he
called Adam?” was one of the questions
asked and answered by Jerusalem Slim.
“He was called Adam because he wasn’t
worth a damn. Eve is evening—was

and is darkness. So, there is no differ-
ence between a harlot and any other
woman.”

What explanation, I wondered, would
Archie Moock give for writing and re-
writing this exotic and foul philosophy?
Would he somehow lay that at the feet
of James Murphy? I had begun to be-
lieve with McEwen that James Mur-
phy was merely a figment of Archie
Moock’s own twisted conjuring.

I did not stop the search with the
finding of the Jerusalem Slim literature.
This merely spurred me on to a more
determined effort. And finally, buried
beneath the raspberry bushes in the
garden, McEwen and | found that for
which we had been searching. The
earth gave up $1,490 in new, crisp
greenbacks!

Beside the bills was a_ neatly
wrapped package of letters; plaintive,
seductive messages, that had lured a
lovelorn woman to her doom. We took
the letters to my office and even before
we read them confronted Archie Moock
with the evidence we had found.

“Well what:do you think of that,”
he said. “So that is what she was doing
tn the garden. She was out there for
sometime before I took her out to meet
Murphy. She must have been suspi-
cious for some reason.”

NoOr a tremor; not a sign of guilt did

Archie Moock reveal. He took the
announcement of the finding of the
money and the letters as though it was
welcome news.

That night we went over the letters,
the prosecutor and myself. What a piti-
ful tale they told, connected with the
information we now had relative to the
dead woman, secured through ° the
matrimonial agency and the brother in
Boston.

Catherine Clarke had been an an-
tique dealer in the Massachusetts city.

Sheriff Brower and Chief of Police McEwen in the rear of the Moock home where .
the buried love letters and money were unearthed. - McEwen is holding the spade

61

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December, 1932

for the rest of the night; building
another alibi and awaiting the approach
of daylight that he might the better
clean-up and hide his tracks.

At dawn the murderer inspected him-
self carefully to see that no blood was
left on his clothes. Then he buried the
money and the letters, only to discover
that he had left the picture frame in
the car. As he drove away from the
home to leave the car in front of Ty-
ree’s house, the murderer threw away
the picture frame, which afterwards
arose to accuse him. Then he came
home to his own wife.

On the stand Moock admitted that
he wrote all the letters even cop ing
the last letter from Murphy telling
Mrs. Clarke to come out to the Carl-
ton place. He did this in order that
Mrs. Clarke might not at the last min-
ute grow suspicious. Moock swore that
all the letters were dictated, and Prose-
cutor Greenough queried Moock about
where each individual epistle was writ-
ten. Finally Moock identified one let-
ter as having been written in Manitou
Park. He had told us this same thing
over and over in his cell.

“THIS,” said the Prosecutor, “is the
letter which Archie Moock claims
to have written in Manitou Park. 1 will
read you a paragraph. It says, “Justra
minute please, | will have to go and.
fill my fountain pen.’ .

“And where,” said Prosecutor Green-
ough, turning to Archie Moock, “did
you go in Manitou Park to fill your
pen.”

Moock’s reply was_ neither satisfac-
tory or convincing. He stammered a
bit and finally said he guessed he must
have been mistaken about where he
wrote that particular letter.

Mrs. Moock clung tenaciously to the
hope that her husband was not guilty;

s

The Master Detective

in every way that she could she cor-
roborated his testimony. Yet, ironically
it was her own evidence relative to the
hat-box returned by her husband, and
her consent to have the premises
searched, which brought about Moock’s
undoing. For, without her consent to
search we might never have found the
money so necessary to prove motive,
and the jury might have been led to
believe that Moock was the “dupe” he
claimed to be. But a jury could hardly
believe that a murder syndicate would
bury the fruit of their crime in the yard
of the “fall-guy” they hoped wou d be
accused.

So skilfully had Archie Moock man-
aged the whole affair that Teena
Moock never entertained the least sus-
picion of. his motives; unquestionably
she was innocent of any wrong-doing.

The defense laid much stress upon
the character of the accused, pointing
to his past blameless life. But here the
doctrine of Jerusalem Slim rose to point
the finger of guilt. For, with the writ-
ings and pamphlets I had found in the
Moock home, he could not deny that
he had listened with an attentive ear
and a retentive brain to the teachings
of this self-appointed apostle. Here
was the answer to the change in char-
acter of a man who for forty years had
led an exemplary life. His reverence
for womanhood torn down by the false
philosophy of the street-orator, Moock
conceived and carried out a horrible

crime, He thought himself a super-

man; but the jury found him guilty.

At seven o'clock on the morning of
September 12th, 1930, every recourse
having been exhausted, Archie Moock,
calm and composed, walked up the
seven a that led to the gallows at
Walla Walla, and there paid the su-
preme penalty for his deed.

Deputies Griffen and Hill are shown pointing to the spot near the road in the swampy
marshes where the dead woman’s body was found

63

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— el

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE was a happy woman and
she had arrived at that state by a very simple process, after
long years of a prosaic and unromantic existence as a dealer
in antique rugs at 327 Huntington Avenue, Boston, Massa-
chusetts,

Strange, she thought, as she gazed fondly at a letter
signed merely “Sweetheart,” that she had not long ago dis-
covered the easy road which had brought her such blissful
contemplation of life. It had been surprisingly natural of

| accomplishment. First she had signed an application blank
in which she had set forth her age, description and worldly
wealth; then she had answered a question as to the kind of
a man she wanted to meet.

“Tall, dark, refined, kind, loving, good income and some

MOOCK, Archie F., white, hanged WASP (Spokane) September 12, 1930

means and not over forty,’ she had written, and had ap-
pended, “would like to live in West or California.’’

The application was mailed to Bertha Howell Lloyd,
Box 157, Western Springs, Illinois, along with the small fee
of one dollar. A few days later Mrs. Clarke had received a
reply stating that she had been assigned the number 2759.

Anxiously Catherine Clarke had awaited the appearance
of the little advertisement bearing her number in the matri-
monial agency paper published by Bertha Howell Lloyd,
and as feverishly as a schoolgirl opening her first love letter,
she tore off the flap of an envelope postmarked, “Spokane,
Washington.” Inside she found a letter, in a clear, clean
hand, signed by one James Murphy.

Then followed an exchange of letters and photographs.

Chat

Tatner

roun<

FOR THIS LONELY BOSTON WOMAN THE MARRIAGE

Ws


Sy ITS

d had ap-

ell Lloyd,
small fee

received a
- 2759

pearance

Spokane,

ar, clean

graphs.

RIAGE §

Savenenrees

james Murphy had now become “Sweetheart,” and Cath-
erine Clarke, “My Dearest.” Love was in full bloom, and now
in a very few days she was going to see her lover. Her things
were packed, and she had said farewell to her relatives amid
many arguments intended to persuade her from her course;
they did not want her to go. But nevertheless the train
pulled out of the Boston station bearing thirty-five-year-old,
love-starved Catherine Clarke toward her inevitable fate,
all because she had taken ,a chance in the lottery of love
through a matrimonial bureau,

But how was she to know what awaited her on the op-
posite coast? How did Bertha Howell Lloyd know to what
fate she might be sending this woman? How does any man
or woman, judgment lessened by desire, know if a Belle
Gunness, who lured twelve men to death by this self-same
manner, or a “Bluebeard” Powers, who killed a family in
one terrible slaughter, awaits them with a_ butcher-knife
or a noose to administer death instead of love?

Is there a matrimonial agency in your town? Your answer
is probably ‘No,’ and very likely you are wrong. Most of
these agencies operate in smaller cities and towns, often
from a farm house, usually with only a postoffice box for an
address. Some small town printer, for a nice profit, provides
them with blanks, prints their newspaper and keeps his mouth
shut.

On its face the matrimonial agency may seem a harmless
enough business, but behind the scenes it is a racket. If all
who engaged in the business were honestly urged by a desire
to bring longing hearts and lonesome souls together, there
might be little criticism of their motive. But police know
that deception, robbery and murder
lurk behind the  harmless-appearing
little ads setting forth the desirability
of the possible wife or husband, Yearly
thousands of innocent victims fall into
the net of unscrupulous villains who
feed upon the fine and softening emo-
tion of love. What the matrimonial
agent wants is the fee, and seldom is
any investigation made of the persons
who reply to the advertisements or those who enter applica-
tions.

What the yearly toll actually is, by robbery and murder,
no one positively knows, but it is probably far beyond the
general conception. The postoffice department believes that
a million letters a year are mailed through such agencies,
and there are, of course, many thousands which they cannot
detect.

Now Catherine Clarke was one of that great horde who
believed that happiness could be bought at the price of a
want ad. The clicking wheels of the train brought her closer
and closer to Spokane and her lover, whom she could hardly
wait to see. Her mind recounted the letters he had sent
her. He had called her “Darling” and “Sweetheart.” It was
wonderful. .

\ few days later, on Sunday, September 23, 1928, a mill-
worker named Grover Tyree went to ‘Foothills Farm,” an
abandoned ranch outside of Spokane, to pick prunes which
anyone could have for the taking. He was accompanied by
his small son and his friend, Frank Winklebeck.

The fruit was stored in the rear of the car, and they were
ready to leave when the boy began to beg for a drink. The

Special

father climbed down into the gully beside the road and
found a dry stream bed—-and something far more sinister !
a tangle of weeds and briars Tyree came upon the body

middle-aged woman, the blood upon her blonde locks

not yet dry where her battered head lay upon the ground.
The two men hastened to a telephone and within an hour
Deputy Sheriff Glenn McEwen and Deputy Coroner Jack

Collins were on the scene.

VOWS WERE: “LOVE, HONOR-—AND MURDER!"

BY HOLLIS B. FULTZ

Investigator
INSIDE DETECTIVE

There was no doubt that it was murder. The woman’s

skull had been cleft with some sharp weapon, and the deed

had been recently done.
death !

A trail of blood led from the tangled grass to the top of
the gulch, through the: barbed wire fence and to the very
side of the road. There in the dust was a large pool of crim-
son denoting that the woman had been first struck here and
rolled into the gully.

During the search Grover Tyree followed the officials step
by step. “I come out here quite often,” said Tyree, ‘‘but this
was to have been my last trip of the year. Lucky I came or
in a few days she would have been beyond recognition.”

“Who else has been out here with you?” asked McEwen.

“Just some of the neighbors, now and then,” said Tyree,
naming a few whom he remembered.

The deputies continued their search until it was grow-
ing dark, without finding anything which might aid in solv-
ing the mystery, and were preparing to depart when Mc-
Ewen’s foot struck an object sticking out of the dirt; stoop-
ing, he straightened up with a lather’s hatchet in his hand.

By the light of a flash McEwen was examining the instru-
ment when Grover Tyree approached: He stared at the
hatchet and stood as one transfixed, apparently unable to
speak; he looked as‘though he had seen a ghost.

“That—hatchet!” he finally gasped.

“What about it?” queried McEwen.

“Why, my God, man, I think it is mine!”

McEwen and Collins were already quite sure they had the
murder weapon; it had been wiped before being discarded,
but there were still spots of crimson on
the handle, and a single hair clung to
the blade. It was unlikely there were
any fingerprints.

Naturally, following that disclosure,
Tyree came under suspicion. However,
it didn’t seem he would have so readily
identified the hatchet if he
guilty man.

Sheriff Floyd Brower was in_ his
office when Tyree and Winklebeck were brought to town, and
he immediately questioned them. The sheriff told Tyree
that things looked bad for him if he could not explain how
his hatchet came to be found near the corpse.

“Well, there is no use denying it is my hatchet,” said
Tyree. “I put that handle in it; I would know it anywhere.”

“When did you see it last?” asked the sheriff.

“T left it in my car; it was there last night,” he answered.
“TY loaned my car to a friend, but he wouldn’t do a thing
like that.”

The corpse was hardly cold in

for

HE questioners had expected some story like this. It was

the old alibi—laying the thing onto someone else who was
above suspicion.

The sheriff began to wonder if Tyree had gone to that farm
to pick prunes or to hunt for a hatchet which he had lost
the previous night.

“Who had your car, Tyree?” Brower insisted.
name.”

“His name is Moock; Archie Moock,’ answered Tyree
reluctantly. “I hate to bring him into this. He is a hard-
working man, has five children, and is a good Christian. He
wanted the car to take a friend somewhere and he left it in
front of my house this morning. He paid me five dollars for
the use’ of the car.”

“Where would we find Moock ?” asked Sheriff Brower.

“He lives out on Hartson Avenue,” answered Tyree, “and
he would probably be at church at this time of the evening.”

Deputy Glenn McEwen and the sheriff met Archie Moock
on the way home from church; they found him to be a mild-

“Give us his

was the


~

INSIDE DETECTIVE

mannered, middle-aged father. Friends later questioned said
he was industrious, sober, kindly, willing to help a neighbor,
and a man who attended strictly to his own business. Brower
asked Moock to come down to the office, and when Mrs.
Moock wanted to know the reason, the sheriff countered
with a question:

“Has there been
past week?”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Moock. “Mrs. Catherine Clarke.”

“What did she look like, and do you know where she is
now ?”

“She is a middle-aged, blonde woman,” answered Mrs.
Moock. “She left our house last night to meet a man named
James Murphy whom she came west to marry. She’s on her
honeymoon, I suppose.”

The investigators left Mrs. Moock at her home, and while

a woman visiting at your home in the

driving back to town they told Moock of the finding of a

body at the farm.

“Tt’s Mrs. Clarke,’ he said, when a short time later he
gazed at the body in the morgue. “But surely: Jim Murphy
wouldn’t do a thing like that. Why, he intended to marry. her !”

More buck-passing, thought the sheriff—Tyree to Moock
and Moock to Jim Murphy. “Who is this Jim Murphy?”
he queried. ;

“A man I met at the Hedlund Mill,” answered Moock.
“We were employed there together. He was a wayward sort
of fellow and [ managed to turn him toward religion. Then
one day he said it was hard for a single man to lead a truly
religious life, and said he thought he would get married if
he could find the right woman. He asked about matrimonial
agencies and wanted me to investigate their methods, which
I did. I gave him the names of several women who were
looking for husbands; among them was the name of Cath-
erine Clarke.

“Then Murphy gave up his job, but I saw him now and
then down on the corner where ‘Jerusalem Slim’ preaches, I
asked him about his love affairs and he said, ‘Mrs. Clarke will
be coming out here one of these days.’ He wanted to know
if he could have her come first to my home and I .told him
that would be all right.

“Catherine Clarke got into Spokane

mid ‘ NO. 2759

last Friday morning, the 21st, and took :
taxi to our house. My wife met I BA tS, Baeee:
a taxi to our house. y wife met her ewtei: ae. thé
at the door and she gave her name and agency's news-
stated that James Murphy had told her paper, describing
to come to our place as he could not Mrs, Clarke and
her bankroll,

meet the train. caught the eye of

“She was very tired,” Moock con- a butchering
tinued, ‘so she remained in bed most of schemer,
the day. When I came home I[ thought it

strange Murphy hadn't called, so after. dinner I went down-
town to look for him. I was standing on the corner listening

‘Jerusalem Slim’ when a boy came up and wanted to
know if I was Mr. Moock. I said that I was and he handed
me a note; it was addressed to me but there was an envelope
inside for Mrs. Clarke.

“T worked on Saturday, and when I came home Mrs,
Clarke said Murphy had written that he was ill at the home
of his sister across the line in Idaho, and wanted me to bring
her to him.

“T borrowed Tyree’s car, and when I got back to the
house Mrs. Clarke was all packed and ready to leave. She
came out carrying a hat-box. We drove about twenty miles
but I couldn’t seem to find the big, six-
teen-room house which Jim had described
in his letter. Then, after considerable
driving, we were overtaken by a big,
black car and Jim Murphy hailed us; he

FATAL

Catherine
Clarke’s first step
toward doom—

introduced another man as ‘Jake.’ her matrimonial
“T told Murphy that this was Mrs. agency applica-
Clarke and he kidded us about not be- tion — divulged

the information
that she had five
thousand dollars,

ing able to find the place; said they had
started out to hunt for us. He said he

24

_no record of his employment at the Hedlund Mill

thought | instinct should have guided Mrs. Clarke to her future

husband: He was acting queerly and when he pulled some
bottles out of the car I realized that he was drunk.

“T never touch the stuff, but Jim insisted that | have one
drink of beer, a toast to his wedding. | thought it best 1
humor him, so I took a drink, and that was the last | remen
bered until I awoke at daybreak to find myself alone. Murphy
Jake and Mrs. Clarke were gone; | must have been doped
drove back to town and left the car at Tyree’s place.’

Thus did Archie Moock explain the manner of the woman’
disappearance, and there was nothing with which to disprove
it, although in spite of his excellent reputation the recital
was hard to believe. If the story was true Archie Moock
was a victim of a very clever matrimonial bureau murder
ring; if untrue he was himself a cold-blooded killer. How
was the sheriff to determine the truth? Moock and Tyree
were both detained as material witnesses.

Mrs. Moock said she remembered Murphy, but there was
, although
this was hardly conclusive that Moock had lied since the
records were quite recent.

The sheriff told Moock that if he could produce the note
which the boy had given him it might help to fnd Murphy.
Moock said he couldn’t do that because he didn’t know what
Mrs. Clarke had done with it. No amount of search dis
covered the house which he claimed he had started out to
find, but even so it was not fair to assume that Moock had
lied, for he had not been able to find the place himseli

me in making the one of my choice happy

and contented.
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‘3 thought of quitting would ever enter her

head. Kay Rossi thought she could

was paid off. Finally she told the Boss,
“O. K., you win. I'll stick.” She was
never held up again.

The Boss’ headquarters were in the
Harlem joint where I met Charlie and in
a restaurant in the heart of the Times
Square district. Usually he would be
seen seated at a table studying a chart
representing his houses, jumping up for

_ the phone to route the girls from house to

house.

He used the old vaudeville system for
booking. A girl would spend a week at
Mother's, then be shifted to Sadie, the
Chink, to Jennie, the Factory, Pop’s,
Jimmy’s, Birdie’s, Rose Cohen’s, and so
on down the list of his joints. It would
be months before a girl went the rounds
then he'd start her over again—that is,
if she was still a good earner.

This class of worker never left his
employ—unless it was feet first.

With the Boss’ protecting hand taken
away I didn’t stay in business long.
I was arrested a couple of tinies but man-
aged to win acquittals. Then on May 19,
while I was operating out of a house on
Lenox avenue I hada caller. He paid me

 4yue

Millie need no longer starve her soul,
deprive her heart of these blessings. For
a small registration and membership fee
a long list of names and addresses of de-
sirable men (many wealthy) will be sent
her. All of these men are seeking com-
panions, whom they can love, honor and
obey forever and ever. The registration
and membership fee ranges from $1 to
$25, the average being about $5. The
letter also suggests that Millie use the

. bureau’s special, completely private service.

A slight additional charge of from $1 to
$3 is made for this service.

But this is not the only expense entailed
in finding the mate through the mails. As
often as not Millie will fail to discover the
man of her dreams in the first batch of
names sent her. The club’s addition of
Millie’s own name to its list for gentle-

men will also prove disappointing.

So Miss Luvsick writes Mr. Club
Operator that she is having little success
and asks for further assistance. And she
gets it! The club operator, in another form
letter, writes that he will gladly send her
name, address and description to a second,
select list of gentlemen. There will, of
course, be an extra, though nominal
charge to cover printing and mailing. This
“nominal” charge will be from $3 to $10.

In this second helpful form letter, Mr.
Operator also suggests that Millie may
find it easier to attract a letter from her
“Prince Charming” if she will permit the
love bureau to enclose a lovely photo-
graph of herself with her description,
name and address, Millie sends an origi-
nal photograph—very often that of some
famous movie star, because she fears her
Own is not enchanting enough—and from

. 106

in advance, then placed me under arrest.
He was a plainclothes detective. I was
taken to the night court. I pleaded not
guilty to the charge. The judge held me
in high bail and I was removed to the
Women’s House of Detention to await
trial. In jail I met up with Millie Davis.
She also knew what it meant to go
against the Boss’ wishes.

HIS would have been the end of my

story only it so happened that the City
of New York began its first real vice in-
vestigation. Assistant District Attorney
Charles Pilatsky stepped into the picture.
It was the beginning of the first honest
vice investigation in the city. Although
the G-men had been trying to nab Nick
Montana for ten years it took a single
detective working under Pilatsky to
smash the Boss’ grip on the vice industry.
He was Detective Hugo Harris.

I guess the rest is newspaper history.
Millie and I were the people’s case. Our
testimony convicted Nick Montana. And
Judge Cornelius Collins sentenced the
Boss to twenty-five years at Sing Sing.

In passing sentence Judge Collins said,
“The verdict of the jury is a triumph of
justice. In my opinion Montana was
without a doubt the worst malefactor of
that type who has ever come into this
court.”

Millie and I were released.

I went back to Chicago, became a
waitress and managed to struggle along.

Montana appealed the verdict and the
Appellate Division of the Supreme Court
gave him a new trial. I didn’t know about
this. It meant that the district attorney
would have to try him all over again.

No one knew where I was. District
Attorney William Copeland Dodge took
the case out of the capable hands of
Pilatsky. Using the excuse that he
couldn’t find me he permitted Nick Mon-
tana to plead guilty to a misdemeanor.
This meant that Nick would have to serve
from thirty days to three years for the
crime,

In giving this plea District Attorney
Dodge said, “The people will get a
bargain.”

The New York Post was incensed that
Nick should get off so easily. They put
their machinery in operation and in six
days found me.

What a story that made! I rode into
the city with headlines in every paper
announcing my arrival,

District Attorney Dodge intimated that
I didn’t want to be found. That wasn’t
true. I was ready to risk my life to
testify against Montana.

You've read the rest of the story in the
newspapers.

I’m back in the West now. I've paid
my debt to society. I’ve got a legitimate
job and I’m trying to live down my past.
Most of my kind never get a second
chance. I’ve got it. And I’m going to
make good.

Mail-Order Bluebeards

[Continued from page 35}

it the love bureau makes duplicate prints.
For this she pays from $5 to $15 per dozen
prints. Millie, generally, does not know
that glossy prints from original photo-
graphs can be made for as little as one
dollar per dozen.

Perhaps, after spending from $25 to
$50 Millie will find a considerate, loving
and wealthy husband. PERHAPS!
There is always the chance however that
she will be dealing with a social corres-
pondence club owner, who is himself a
swindler. In such a case, she can con-
sider herself fortunate if the operator
writing love-letters to her, personally,
under various names and from different
parts of the country, does not induce her
to invest her life savings in some phoney
stock, a bogus silver mine, an invaluable
diamond ring (purchased in a five and ten
cent store) or something equally worth-
less.

The practice of having love letters sent
from numerous, far-flung sections of the
country to a lonely soul in search of a
mate is one resorted to by some club
operators who are not out-and-out
swindlers, but who do not have a large
enough genuine membership list to make
an impressive showing and an alluring
enough “come-on” for additional ex-
penditures. Such clubs employ agents
all over the United States, who re-mail
letters from their territories for the oper-
ators at a salary of a dollar for each

» hundred letters.

The frequency with which the word
“wealthy” appears in the descriptions
of social correspondence club patrons is
another puzzling factor to the unitiated.
It tends to create the impression that all

the wealthy people in America use the
services of the commercial Cupids. But
the case of the New Hope Matrimonial
Society will serve to explain this. The
operators of this love and marriage bu-
reau, located in New York City, were ar-
rested by the police and hailed into court.
Members names were sold individually,
according to the amount of money they
had. Prices for a single name ranged
from $5 for a fairly wealthy person’s
name, to $25 for the name of one who
was practically a millionaire.

Many hopefuls who purchased such
names later discovered that the amounts
stated were greatly exaggerated. After
a Jong, drawn-out court battle—during
which it was proved that the correspond-
ence club urged their members to exag-
gerate in giving their financial worth—
the New Hope Matrimonial Society was
forced out of business. During the in-
vestigation, police found files showing
that some 10,000 subscribers had used the
facilities of the New Hope marriage
bureau to conduct their love-by-letter
campaigns.

Still, Millie might find a true spouse
in her mail-box one fine morning. There
is no doubt that a number of men and
women have married after mail-order ro-
mances and that of these a certain per-
centage are happy and contented.

Neither can there be any doubt that
some of the social correspondence clubs
are run legitimately and that the operators
of these endeavor to perform a real social
service at a reasonable price.

But even the best of the clubs have no
control over the type of people who re-
spond to their advertisements, Suppose

Millie had received a letter from or
written to any one of the vicious swin-
diers, chislers or racketeers who have
victimized countless women just like her.
Or suppose she had begun a correspon-
dence courtship with one of the fiendish
murderers, who have splashed the blood
of hundreds of lonely women over the
pages of mail-order marriage bureau his-
tory. F

Suppose she had begun a mail-order
romance with James Murphy. Mrs.
Catherine Clark, attractive divorcee of
Boston, Massachusetts, did. Mrs. Clark
had divorced her first husband in 1923.
Five years later, in the spring, she began
to get lonesome. She wrote to a social
correspondence club. Her description of
herself was attractive. “I am,” it read,
“35, 5’ 5”, 165, light brown hair, blue eyes,
high school education, excellent charac-
ter, am broadminded in regard to religion,
American. Have $2,000 and will inherit
$3,000.”

One letter in the flood of mail Mrs
Clark soon received impressed her great-
ly. The man, who signed his name, James
Murphy, was also thirty-five and would
soon inherit $100,000. Mrs. Clark an-
swered the letter and the mail-order ro-
mance was under way. Before many more
letters had been exchanged it became
apparent to both Mrs. Clark and Mr.
Murphy that they must have been meant
for each other. At Murphy’s suggestion,
Mrs. Clark drew her life savings from
the bank, sold her small rug business in
Boston, and started for Spokane to meet
her letter-writing lover.

A very nice, middle-aged man met her
at the Spokane station. He introduced
himself as Archie Moock. His friend,
Jimmy Murphy, he said, was ill and had
asked him to pick up Mrs. Clark. Moock
took the divorcee to his home in Spokane.
He introduced her to Mrs. Moock and
his four little children. Mrs. Clark was
tired after her long journey and both Mr.
and Mrs. Moock invited her to spend the
night and the next day with them. She
needed a rest, they insisted, and Mr.
Moock would be glad to take her to Jim
Murphy the following evening. The Bos-
ton divorcee accepted the kind invitation
and spent a very pleasant evening with
the Moocks. The next night she set out
with Archie Moock in his car. She could
hardly wait to see her prespective hus-
band. -

N THE morning of September 21,
1928, Moock returned to his home and
jold his wife that the lady from Boston had
arrived safely at the home of his friend,
Murphy. All Spokane, however, was
shocked about a week later, when’ the
butchered body of a woman was found
about twenty miles from Spokane. The
body was identified as Mrs. Catherine
Clark of Boston, ‘A purse, with the lining
tipped out, was found near the body.
Spokane police traced the activities of the
murdered divorcee to a social correspon-
dence club and postal inspectors joined
them in the hunt for her murderer. The
trail led to Archie Moogk, who told the
officers about Jimmy Murphy. With all
the information he gave them, however,
they were still unable to find Murphy.
They did learn that there was no such
person, that Moock himself had written
to Mrs, Clark under the name of Murphy
and had murdered her for the $3,000 she
had sewed in her purse. Two vears later,
on September 12, 1930, Archie Moock
was hanged for the murder of the love-
lorn Boston divorcee.
Joseph Meluch and Dorothy Flowers

were another young couple who found
each other with the aid of a mail-order
love club. Six weeks after their marriage,
Dorothy was found dead. in the bedroom
of the Meluch home in Lorain, Ohio, her
head bashed in by a gun butt. Joseph
Meluch gave himself up in St. Louis some
time later, and was tried on a charge of
second degree murder. He hinted that his
mail-order bride had been sex-mad, in-
sanely jealous and a reefer (marihuana)
addict. But on October 11, 1935, the jury
found him guilty of manslaughter and
sentenced him to twenty years in prison.

THE Mail-Order Cupid does not work
in America alone. His is an interna-
tional job. One of his most outstanding
employers was wild-eyed, bearded Henry
Landru of Paris, France. Landru mar-
ried and murdered over three hundred
women, robbing them of what little jewels
and money they had. He was finally cap-
tured and beheaded on the guillotine.
Also in France, on Brittany’s bleak
coast, the Mail-Order Cupid introduced
a district attorney’s son to a little peasant
girl. Michel Henriot, son of Prosecutor
Rene Henriot, married Georgette Deglave
after a whirlwind post-office romance. In
May, 1934, the famous Surete Nationale
was summoned to the Henriot farmhouse,
where they found Georgette dead, with
her head battered by cruel blows from a
poker and a rifle bullet hole through her
heart. After a frantic search for a non-
existent tramp, whom her husband
claimed had been prowling in the neigh-
borhood, the French officers arrested the
husband for his wife’s murder.
Innumerable lesser crimes than murder
have been Jaid at the Mail-Order Cupid’s
door by the world’s police forces. There

Sign up for a reading adventure.
Join the crew of frue subscribers
for an all-year voyage with
America’s most sensational maga-
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pages aboard. Turn to page 122
for complete details.

is the recent case, for instance, of Samuel
Frank, correspondence Casanova de luxe.
Thirteen hundred odd women wrote
Frank expressing their interest in be-
coming Mrs. Frank, and “1,300 odd” is no
exaggeration. One of the ladies was 103
years old.» Another had just celebrated
her eleventh birthday. This latter young
lady’s letter contained the written con-
sent of her parents to the marriage.

Of course, none of the husband-seeking
females knew that Frank had a wife—his
second—and five children. He had neg-
lected to mention these details. But he
answered the letters of all the 1,300
women who wrote him. In his form
reply to them, he included a question-
naire, which made numerous inquiries as
to their appearances, their personal habits,
their wealth. To the hundreds who an-
swered his letter and questionnaire, Frank
sent another appealing form letter. It
began: “My dearest Friend and Pal:”
and went on to say that he had just
checked up and discovered that his bonus
money had been lost in the mails. He
would very greatly appreciate a loan of
$30 from his “dearest friend and pal.”

The purpose of this loan, of course, was
to enable him to join her so that he could
marry her.

Government postal inspectors caught
up with Frank, when Mrs. Louise Ken-
nedy, who had sent him not $30 but $130,
went to Frank’s Oakland hotel room and
found him there with another woman.
The two women, after a brief but inter-
esting discussion, discovered that Samuel
had been working the same gag on both
of them.

When Postal Inspector Robert Tracy
of Oakland and Oakland police opened
the letter-writing Lothario’s trunks after
his arrest, they found scores of women’s
pictures, mementos and souvenirs, There
were even dainty intimate items of wear-
ing apparel, which Frank readily identi-
fied for the officers. Late in October,
1936, after pleading guilty to a charge
of using the mails to defraud, Frank was
sentenced by Judge A. F. St. Sure in San
Francisco to five years in prison.

It may be well to introduce here,
Samuel Frank’s feminine counterpart.
The young lady in question has never
been apprehended. “Bebe Crook” will
serve as a name for her, as well as any
other, for she has used so many names
during her career in chiseling that prob-
ably even she does not remember half of
them nor know her real name. Bebe con-
tacts simultaneously a score of hopeful
males who have registered with various
social correspondence clubs. She tells
them she is beautiful, lovable and ex-
tremely wealthy and after exchanging
a few intimacies via the written word she
agrees to marry them—all of them! She
asks each one to send her the fare from
her home to his, explaining that her own
ready cash is tied up in investments at
the moment. And usually Bebe chooses
men who live far enough away for her to
make the railroad fare quite a sizable sum.
When she has fleeced as many of the score
as possible, Bebe moves on to another
address, changes her name and begins all
over again with a new list of suckers. She
has been able to live in grandiose apart-
ments, wear the best clothes and have
practically everything her heart desires
for many years.

GuR VEYS made in various parts of the
country and conducted by such relia-
ble crime-busting agencies as Chicago’s
famed Committee of Fifteen, show that
there are close to 400 love and marriage
correspondence clubs in the United
States.

The Committee of Fifteen found that
100,000 letters from social correspondence
club customers leave Chicago each year.
In Los Angeles more than 80,000 men
and women carry on mail-order romances,

But perhaps the most striking indica-
tion of the number of people appealing to
Cupid clubs for love counsel can be de-
rived from the actual membership of a
few of the clubs. The Evan Moore club
in Jacksonville, Florida, boasts a clientele
of some 30,000 lonely souls. In New York
City, Mr. Andrew DPicirrilo guides the
destinies of the National Social Register.
In twenty-two years Mr. Picirrilo has
built a membership of 15,000 letter-writ-
ing sweethearts. No less than 12,000
love-hungry men and women come to
Mrs. Stull for assistance. All in all,
various national check-ups have shown
that from 1,000,000 to 2,000,000 people
are wooing and marrying one another by
mail. And that Uncle Sam’s postal
messengers deliver each year no less than
a half-billion letters from lonely males
to love-lorn females and vice versa.

107

BLUEBEARD ON TRIAL

U PPER left, the trial of Henry Landru, Bluebeard murderer of France, who married three hundred women to take their lives
and their money, With him, in uniform, Is his lawyer, Giaffen. Below him, Georgette Henriot, murdered by
her husband. Above, Samuel Frank with photographs of a few of the 1300 fair admirers he claimed to have won.

TRUE MAGAZINE, April, 1938.

—_

Bae ; : i : tars
mm
5
we
—
true CASES OF MODERN MARRIAGE MONSTERS mB |
my
by JOSEPH CSIDA, Jr. jp
: 43)
hy
EET the Mail-Order Cupid ... patron saint of . It was almost an hour later when the death pyre on Pawnee Pas
the love-starved . . . harbinger of hope for the road attracted the attention of motorists passing nearby. And
= : when they reached the spot, the body was nothing mote than a s
heart-sick . . . procurer number one for sex charred, smouldering heap in the snow. Investigators found =«
perverts and mass murderers. : there was little left to aid in identification of the victim. But =
Meet a few of the Mail-Order Cupid’s employers. when the charred remains had cooled, closer scrutiny revealed pr
; 2 : that one of the woman’s shoes was especially consructed to fit
It is February 23, 1929, and the wild-growing shrub and a minor deformity of her foot. @O
brush flanking the Pawnee Road, near Cranford, New Jersey, A search of the neighborhood towns was immediately insti- “
is covered with ice and snow. In the cold, eerie light of the — tuted but no one knew of a woman with a slighly crippled foot.
full moon Pawnee Road seems stark, sinister. A gaunt-faced A check-up with the Missing Persons Bureaus of states adjoine =
man, lank and stooped by the weight of the body he carries in ing New Jersey, however, brought quick word from the police ©
his arms, comes onto the road. His feet make crunching sounds of Greenville, Pennsylvania. be |
on the ice-packed ground, Twigs crack sharply ahd branches Mrs. Mildred Mowbry of that town had worn a specially- 99
swish angrily as he drops the body in the brush at the side of built shoe on her right foot. She had mysteriously disappeared
the road. — ; ' from her home five days before. And although there was no (ys
_ Unhurriedly the man makes his way back to a car, parked evidence that she had not left voluntarily, police and postal =
just off Pawnee and returns presently to the body ih the brush. inspectors were checking correspondence she had had with a “4
In his hand there is a curve-snouted kerosene can. number of men. She had appatently been put in touch with {©
Carefully he pours the kerosene over the body. When the — these men through a social correspondence club, ore of the
last few drops drip from the can’s:snout, he strikes a match, numerous love-and-marriage-by-mail bureaus. i =
touches it to three sections of the tattered dress ori the corpse Further investigation showed that she had taken her life =
and strides back, a little more hastily now, to his ¢ar. Before savings, some four thousahd dollars, with her upon leaving > |
the sound of his motor has died away, the body of the woman Greenville. This money was missing. Weeks of tedious de- 09
is ablaze. Orange-yellow flame sways crazily skyward and the  tective work dragged on. ct
hissing and roaring of the fire make it seem as thdugh a piece A trail of letters, pitifully baring a lonely woman’s longing ©
of hell has burned through the earth. for a mate, led first to one man, then another. Suspects were [3
prey e kapha so rel" 3
Sh
et
ey

“

MURDERESS

SEX MAD BRIDE? MURDERED oy

‘ Belle Gunness of LaPorte, Indiana, left Joe Meluch said his bride, Dorothy Flowers, Dorothy Flowers, found murdered in (7)
behind 19 men's corpses when she was sex-mad, and a drug addict. He was her bedroom. Her husband gave him- oo
vanished from her burning home. convicted of manslaughter just the same. self up, was tried, and got 20 years.


questioned and cleared. Finally, the letters brought to light
the strangest suspect of all... a white-haired, distinguished
looking doctor of sixty years. ;
Henry Campbell, highly tespected in his community of New
Brunswick, New Jersey, was the author of several highly tech-
nical books, owned his own home and had always—as far as
his neighbors knew—led an exemplary life. But the postal
inspectors and police, suspicions aroused by letters in the doc-
tor’s hand-writing to the murdered woman, delved into his past.

T HEIR findings stand today as a case history of one of the

most fiendish murderers the world has ever known. As a
comparatively young man, the distinguished doctor had been
arrested in California for forgery. He was quickly sentenced
on this charge. But only a short period of his full term had
been served when a kindly, but not very wise, parole board
decided to give him another chance. Desiring to place as much
distance as possible between himself and the scene of his abortive
criminal career, the doctor came on to New York. Here he took
up the study of demonology. One of the fascinating sections of
this science of Satan deals with the eating of human flesh and
the drinking of human blood.

But even as you and I, the doctor was faced with the necessity.
of earning a living while pursuing his latest interest. How he
managed it, investigators were unable to discover, but he got
himself a job in an insane asylum. This undoubtedly comple-
mented his studies nicely. It apparently did not bring Campbell
enough revenue. Or perhaps it seemed too honest a means of
making money. At any rate, it was just two years later that
Campbell was arrested for the second time in his nefarious
career.

This time, the charge was dope peddling. A number of the
inmates of the asylum which employed the doctor had been
placed in the institution by friends and relatives who hoped to
cure them of their craving for morphine and cocaine. Possibly
the good doctor could not bear to see the suffering of these un-
fortunates as they were deprived of their “shots.” So he had
been supplying them with the drugs at, of course, a stiff price.

Again the doctor was tried and convicted and this time the
court ruled that his home should be famous Sing Sing prison.
A strange sidelight which gave the investigators food for
thought occurred at this period in Campbell's life. Just before
his arrest, a number of womten had been found in various parts
of the city, murdeted in a most mysterious and horrible fashion.

32

MANACLED

Harry Powers, in shirt sleeves, manacled to Sheriff
Grimm after murder confession, at left,

ate

In every case, their hearts had practically been ripped from
their bodies. ‘The perpetrator of these ghastly crimes was never
apprehended. But the killings ceased abruptly with Camphbell’s
arrest.

It must have been, police decided as their investigation
progressed, immediately after his release from Sing Sing that
Doctor Henry Campbell became acquainted with the Mail-
Order Cupid. For when long hours of grilling had finally
pierced his shell of complacency—after his arrest on suspicion
of the murder of Mrs. Mildred Mowry—he admitted in his con-
fession that he had been carrying on his love-letter writing
activities for some forty years. He couldn't remember, he said,
how many women he had married after social correspondence
club introductions, but he did concede that there were “quite
a few.” Virtually all of these had mysteriously disappeared.

With an air of being tired of it all, he told police how he
had contacted Mrs. Mowry through one of the love-and-mar-
riage-by-mail bureaus and after marrying het had killed her
for the $4,000, which she had brought to him,

His arrest and past record brought officials from six other
states to his trial, some months later. They waited stolidly in
the courtroom, ready to take the fiendish killer to their own
localities to stand trial for murders they suspected he had
committed there, in the event the Jersey jury should give heed
to his attorney’s insanity plea. But the trial ended in a quick
conviction of murder in the first degree. Doctor Henry Camp-
bell, whom the Mail-Order Cupid had served faithfully for forty
years, died in the electric chair on April 17, 1930.

ANOTHER letter-writing Lothario, for whoni the Mail-Order

Cupid performed for eleven long years was Harry Powers.
In Quiet Dell, a little suburb outside Clarksburg, West Virginia,
Powers led a placid existence with a wife he had won through
the mails. While she worked in a small store in the village,
Powers spent his time pottering around their unpretentious
farm and romancing via rural delivery with lonely women all
over the country.

One of the women, with whom he had corresponded was Mrs.
Asta Buick Eicher, a widow of Park Ridge, Illinois. Mrs.
Eicher’s husband had died several years earlier, leaving her
with three small children. Loneliness overcame her and she
wrote the American Friendship Society in Detroit, Among
the many letters she received from males desiring to marry her,
those of one Connie Pierson stood out. Pierson, for one thing,

sions sbi

’ they had not heard from her, her friends

FIENDISH KILLER

Powers, above, reclines in jail while mob
howls. He killed widow and three children.

was a much more ardent wooer than any
of his competitors, Ina period of less than
six months, he wrote the lonely widow
fifty-four letters, each more loving and
passionate than the one before.

Finally she decided to go to Quiet Dell
to marry this man, who seemed to spend
his every waking minute writing her love
letters. She told her friends and neighbors
that she was going away to marry an old
friend. She took her three children with
her. But when several months passed and

became alarmed and notified the police.

Again tortuous deadly-dull routine led
to a love-and-marriage-by-mail bureau.
This time the American Friendship So-
ciety. And more hard work narrowed a
list of suspects down to one:—Connie
Pierson of Quiet Dell. Connie’s real name,
they learned, was Harry Powers. They
called on him at his home, one evening,
and asked what he knew of Mrs. Eicher.
Powers stared at them, unperturbedly,
through his thick-lensed glasses. His fat face betrayed him not
at all. He not only did not know anything about Mrs. Eicher’s
whereabouts, but he had never even heard of the woman, The
investigators decided, however, to have a look around.

The look resulted in the discovery of a quantity of silver-
ware, clothing and other possessions which were identified as
belonging to Mrs, Eicher and her three children. Encouraged
by their find the investigators extended their search to the
grounds adjoining the Powers farm.

It was while they were digging in the swampy ground beneath
a solid concrete garage, which Powers had built, that they came
upon gruesome discoveries. Covered by slime and muck and
the slithering things which infest such earth the bodies of a
woman and three children were discovered, What sickeningly
little was left of them was enough to identify them as the missing
Park Ridge widow and her three children two girls, nine and
fourteen years of age, and a little boy of twelve.

Other women, too, who had contacted prospective husbands
through love-and-marriage-by-mail bureaus were still unfound

VICTIM

Mrs, Dorothy Pressler
Lemke, fifth known victim
of the wholesale killing
fiend, Harry Powers. West
Virginians were shocked,

DEATH TRENCH

The charnel trench on

Harry Powers’ murder
farm, below. Workers
dug from the death

garage after first four
victims were discovered.

and as is usual, the investigators made a further search around
the Powers grounds to see whether any of these had met fates
similar to Mrs. Eicher,

And after less than an hour of digging they did come upon
another woman’s body. This was identified as Mrs. Dorothy
Pressler Lemke, A check-back on Mrs. Lemke’s past revealed
the startling fact that Harry Powers was the second husband
to whom she had been introduced by the Mail-Order Cupid.
Her first one, she had learned (after living with him for ten
years) had been married once before in Germany. For this
reason she-had left him and with the blind faith of the lovelorn
had attempted to find a less bigamous mate again through the
love-and-marriage-by-mail clubs. She found Powers, West
Virginia’s most infamous Bluebeard.

But the most horrible facts in the Powers case did not come
to light until days after the discoveries of the unfortunate vic-
tims’ bodies. Medical examination of the corpses brought out
the revolting information that after murdering his mail-order
brides, Powers used their dead bodies to satisfy unmentionable

33


“HARDBOILED"

“I guess | look hardboiled, but I'm not," Joseph Meluch
wrote to one of his mail-order sweethearts, sending picture.

and strangely perverted sex desires. A quick trial brought
Powers to the same end as his New Jersey predecessor.

HE Mail-Order Cupid was undoubtedly proud of the ;

achievements of Harry Powers and Henry Campbell. But
these two murder monsters did not handle their affairs of mar-
riage and murder with the businesslike efficiency, the mass-
destruction proficiency of Dr. Henry Holmes of Chicago.

Holmes lived in a huge house on the Windy City’s outskirts.
He chose the names of lonely women from love-and-marriage-
by-mail bureaus’ lists and co.iducted romantic correspondence
with them until they agreed to marry him. Shortly after the wed-
ding he insured them for as much money as he could without
arousing suspicion. Somehow, they mysteriously disappeared.

Before their disappearances the doctor’s wives usually won-
dered about several features of the big house. One was a room,
completely fitted with all manner of surgical instruments, which
the doctor never seemed to utilize. Another was a tremendous
vat, for which there seemed to be no use. A third feature was
the peculiar design of the furnace in the basement.

When Chicago police investigated the disappearance of one
of the doctor’s wives, they learned the purpose of the surgical
instruments, the vat and the furnace. The first, the doctor used
to cut up his wives, after he had murdered them, The second, he
filled with acid to destroy their dismembered skin and bones.
And the third he used to burn those portions of their cadavers
which the acid would not dissolve.

A search revealed other interesting facts about the manner
in which he conducted his business of marriage and murder. A
voluminous file was heavy with carbon copies of all the love
letters he had written to the women he later murdered. Anda
check-up with insurance companies showed that under numerous
aliases, the doctor had collected almost $100,000 in insurance
on his wives.

34

‘ Would you site te mee) ound, baad
Ae 0d yatervasing lady frienem® . 5

Ok nave) Vrpuenmde, eat
vary wein Of Vite ig

ra Pl £3

rae You know, #0 sany people de net nave the eppertunity of dasting

the right kind of people. Some live in mall towne where there ie 96 one.
that particularly appeals te them; others again, live in large af tices, 2
sqhere it is even sore Giffioult to make frierde, Bedaune during the eady |) rate D
Uhey are at work, havirg fo opportunity (a make aocia: Friends, ahs when ah Rh:
e¥eming Comes, they stay at hepe, because {ft te rot pleasant te ee 2
places alone. Then there are atill cthers whe have » let of friends
Dut not ONE, among them would they choose for a life parther

{ttre as 4 tb wondersel benef ite ey momar receive, many
{3 It's surprising wha that 1 haweitet

Sntorested Ch, rightonow, fam k@rgredted dr “TODS. and “MARRIAGE” Ve.
S going te be the turning point. in/*TOUR™ frat fe UE ening So we
© te you" A BRIGPT 963 PHOBFINGUT |COt.te 2 CONSENIAL LADY. etow
Selected frm tho.santé: vf others,
“CHANCE” cay Offer * ; ij

Rated
‘ un Point be YOUR Bis,
+e:

mineegr ane’

oly ree na aha totedy +

5 RT CPR Oe LES tatrte hg

CV WRATH wUneO Benepe tires SO |

het Ss SIP AH EBS, Beatty bear i

Y ¢: i. Sa aay
: | Rete

LOVE BY MAIL
Typical advertising circular, written in secchirinf terms.

Marrjage with wealth was hope held out... pot death.

After hours of grilling following his arrest, Holmes admitted
that he must have married and murdered at least 40 women,
whom he had found through the love-and-marriage-by-mail
bureaus. The hangman’s noose brought the doctor’s lucrative
business to an end. .

THE Mail-Order Cupid does not work for men, exclusively.
If an ambitious woman wishes to employ him, the will serve
her just as faithfully a she serves his male murder-maniacs.
Such a woman was Belle Gunness. Belle owned a little farm
in LaPorte, Indiana. She was not a very sociable woman, speak-

- ing very little to any of her neighbors. The Gunness farm-

house burst into flames one night and the neighbors rushed to
the blaze to see whether they could help.

No one saw Belle Gunness leave the house, so they feared
that she had been caught in the roaring inferno. When the
last smouldering flame died out, when only the charred ruins of
the frame house remained, they began a search for Belle’s body.
They found a corpse, but it was that of a man!

The police decided to investigate. They dug in Belle Gunness’
garden and unearthed the gruesome remains of nineteen more
men, Of Belle, herself, they found no trace. Eventually they
succeeded in identifying three of the corpses.

Further investigation led the officers to several social cor-
respondence clubs with whom these men had registered. Belle,
the police realized after months of investigation, was just an-
other of the cold-blooded killers who picked her victims from the
lists the mail-order marriage bureaus supplied her. She evi-
dently chose lonely men with several thousand dollars saved up,
and holding out her farm-house as a lure, married them and
murdered them for their money. In the case of this widow
from Indiana, it can be reasonably assumed that she is some-
where, still marrying, robbing and planting the dead bodies of
her mail-order husbands in her garden.

%

Before going on to the exploits of others who loved, married
and murdered by mail, it may be well to see just how the social
correspondence clubs work and how it is possible for scheming
killers to line up their victims through these clubs.

Mr. Club Operator inserts a small advertisement or two. A
perusal of only a few of these advertisements will indicate how
tempting they must appear to a young or not-so-young lady or
gentleman with romantic ideas and an inferiority complex about
personally carrying them out.

Says one of the mail-order love peddlers:

“SWEETHEART ASSURED EVERY MAN BY
AMERICA’S LEADING CORRESPONDENCE CLUB.
STARTLING OFFER SENT FREE. ENCLOSE STAMP.”

And another:

“LONELY HEARTS—HAPPINESS AWAITS YOU!
MEET YOUR ‘IDEAL MATE’ THRU FIDELITY. LOVE-
HUNGRY MEN AND WOMEN EVERYWHERE CRAVE
WEDDED COMPANIONSHIP. (MANY WEALTHY.
REMARKABLY EFFICIENT PLAN. DISTINCTIVE
INDIVIDUALIZED SERVICE. PARTICULARS, SPECI-
MEN, DESCRIPTIONS (SEALED). WRITE TODAY.”

A third suggests:

“CHASE THOSE LONELY HOURS AWAY! I’VE
THE VERY PAL FOR YOU, LONESOME LIKE YOUR-
SELF. WRITE TODAY. YOU’LL BE GLAD. FREE
PARTICULARS, CONFIDENTIAL INTERESTING DE-
SCRIPTIONS. ATTRACTIVE MEMBERS EVERY-
WHERE (MANY WEALTHY).”

Still another states boldly:

“MARRY RICH. SEND 10c FOR PHOTOS AND P. O.
ADDRESSES OF RICH AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN
WHO WISH TO MARRY.”

And here is a specialist in the field:

“LATIN BEAUTIES. MANY WEALTHY. WISHING
U. S. CORRESPONDENTS. SEALED PARTICULARS
FREE. WRITE TODAY.”

PG.
o ~
fe ; ,
0 fg iv
ie a
¢ #%
wy
*
uA &
2
eo
i. % *
*
;
£ eS
BURIED

Above, Sheriff Brower and
Deputy McEwen where Ye i
money and letters of Mrs. TNs ,
Catherine Clark were ts as a
found. Inset, Archie ‘
Moock, mail-order killer.

A ot
TRUSTING
Mrs. Catherine Clark,
right, took her $2,000

jen she went to meet her
husband-to-be. He killed
her for it, in cold blood.

So WITH the feeling that these helpful little advertisements

are the answer to their prayers for someone to love, the
lonely souls sit down and “write today” for the “sealed par-
ticulars.”

Here is Millie Luvsick, for instance, dashing off a pleading
note to one of the commercial Cupids.

Very promptly she receives a plain envelope with a post-office
box number return address. The envelope is crammed with
mimeographed circulars, pamphlets and a friendly letter.
Luridly, glowingly, this pile of literature paints a picture of
the sheer joys of loving and being loved, the ultra-super ecstasy
of married life.

The letter goes on to explain that [Continued on page 106]

35


Udi

iplesxton — Be y

| se

mpertcreced mm blousework

! Sr
You Musical YZE€9 Wi!

irried Before?
vo You Live in City or Cou
Bo You Prefer City or Countr
Yo You Agree to, Anexer or

j ped Envelop

ease Write a Letter Setting(
kind of Men You Desire to M
a Applications fror
Se

fy S)BERTHA HOWELL FL:

ign Another Person's Name to
je. .7

A TRAGIC INSIG!

shot a knowing glance at McEwan. i :

To Mrs. Moock, he said: “Mrs. Clarke, ; into the lonely |

py about thirty-tive with reddish é was contained in
air.” the bure ich
Mrs. Moock nodded. “Is there any- | a

thing wrong.” : “ , -
McEwan started to speak, but f Pithigpes Haseley

Brower broke in ahead of him. “No. f suggested

We were just trying to find her. i Atythe’ office

bid sg is this Mr. Murphy. Per- ( picture of what
Mrs. Moock gave a little laugh. 4 ot ‘ome i

“He’s away over in Idaho. Anyway, £ She is from Bost

perdi probably on their honeymoon & here to marry Ja
“Hanewinoon?” f hoe do yoi
“Yes. Didn’t you know she was to a rane maybe I’

marry Mr. Murphy? Or are you very’ b beginning ”

good friends with her?” 4 Brower told h
“No. Not even acquaintances. We ; idea. Moock said

were asked to find her. Do you know mill.

where she came from?” : “I thought y
“Boston, I think.” q “Only on Suna
“Boston, Massachusetts?” 4 the week. I met
“Yes. She came out here to marry 4 the mill, and I t:

Mr. Murphy. I don’t know much ; He drank to exce

about him, but Mr. Moock can tell he had the makir
ou all about it. He is very interested 4

and I did my best
in Mr.. Murphy.” “

Leaving Mrs. Moock, McEwan How about Mr
sie “It looks like things are a little OOCK said: “!
involved.” : nh

“You can say that again,’ Brower pore Her patie
grunted. “Mr. Moock had better have g he needed a won
himself a good story or he’ll preach f always claimed h.
his Sunday evening sermon in our women. Finally, }
jail.” sth « hon

Moock was coming out of the or wi a
church when the two officers met him. :

: : , ae clubs.”
Brower plunged in, asking questions “And he met
about Mrs. Clarke. ; through it?”

“What is the trouble?” Moock cried
with alarm. “Has there been an ac- yah
cident?” ‘
‘“T don’t think it was an accident—
it looks more like murder!”
“Murder?” Moock cried. “No..
I can’t believe it...”

Moock nodded.
against it. But aft
with the woman, |
it. She seemed to
fearing woman an

“So he proposed


glance at McEwan.
1e said: “Mrs. Clarke,
ty-tive with reddish

ded. “Ts there any-

ted to speak, but
1 ahead of him. “No.
trying to find her.
Mr. Murphy. Per-

gave a little laugh.
c in Idaho. Anyway,
on their honeymoon

you know she was to,

shy? Or are you very

th her?”

n acquaintances. We

nd her. Do you know

. from?”

nk.”

cachusetts?”’

ne out here to marry
I don’t know much
Mr. Moock can tell
He is very interested

s. Moock, McEwan
like things are a little

’ that again,” Brower
Aoock had better have
story or he’ll preach
ening sermon in our

coming out of the
e two officers met him.
i in, asking questions

e.
trouble?” Moock cried
{as there been an ac-

< it was an accident—
ike murder!”

foock cried. “No...
it «acer

SORA FASS

. te
eaplexton . ae Wares

u Musieal
xa Any Means..2,_0_0 DHow Much’ W
: Married Before_44 si

Bo You Live in City « Country
Bo You Prefer City r

find of Men You Desire A smal he ole, :

4,4BERTHA HOWELL FLOYD, Western S
Another Pecese’s’ Name to an A;

Application Blan

VIS Blonde or Brunett
ed om } lousework No
\ppearance, } “Yt ee

Sing ser pees Yeoh. aig” 6.

Ye What Instrument Do

oo Soa

orth Vou

Applications from Colored People.
’ 4 A oe
Send Appliéation

7, ia

~ Kan ta sh. Baw

A TRAGIC INSIGHT——

into the lonely life Mrs. Clarke led
was contained in her application to
the bureau which arranged for dates.

“You’d better come over to our of-
fice while we talk it over,” Brower
suggested.

At the office, he gave Moock the
picture of what they had _ found.
“Now, who is this Mrs. Clarke?”

“Her name is Catherine Clarke.
She is from Boston. She came out
here to marry James Murphy.”

“Where do you fit into the pic-
ture?”

“|... maybe I’d better start at the
beginning.”

Brower told him it was a good
idea. Moock said he worked in the
mill. :

“T thought you were a preacher?”

“Only on Sunday. I work during
the week. I met James Murphy at
the mill, and I tried to reform him.
He drank to excess, but I could see
he had the makings of a good man
and I did my best... .”

“How about Mrs. Clarke?”

OOCK said: “I thought it would
help if Murphy got married and
settled down. I kept telling him
he needed a woman’s influence. He
always claimed he didn’t know any
women. Finally, he came to me one
day with an advertisement in a maga-

zine. It was one of those marriage ~

clubs.”
“And he met this Mrs. Clarke
through it?”

Moock nodded. “At first, I was

against it. But after he corresponded ©

with the woman, I felt different about
it. She seemed to be an honest, God-
fearing woman and...”

“So he proposed to her by mail and

? / ) ,
Loe-Licrds ee Wate 4 2 os mi / / 2,

yr ay ) ath
. iy (har cs Rearowth s.4 aie Side aces
— A State ae ok
Hlenht Weight ] Dhctad :
one } oe ath ; er Relynon Un rites fire
me Che. ‘ Nationality -
FH ae Poe s Pe fai (7
of Haig | bf: Loi YE yes Ls A Tie

she came out here to marry him?”
Brower said.

Moock declared that was right.

“T still don’t see your part in the
affair. What were you doing with the
woman last night? Where was Mur-
phy?”

Moock declared that Murphy had
been living at his home. “But two
weeks ago, he left. On his twenty-
ninth birthday, he was to inherit
some property, provided he was
married. That is one of the reasons
he wanted Mrs. Clarke to marry him
so quickly. He left to go to Idaho to
take care of the details of his estate.”

“He didn’t come back here to meet
his mail-order bride?”

“No. Mrs. Clarke stayed with us
for two days. Yesterday, Murphy
called me. He said he couldn’t get
away, but asked me if I would drive
her to Cour d’Alene, Idaho, to meet
Him «80.5. ."

Brower looked grim. “Why did he
want to meet her in Cour d’Alene.
That’s only fifteen miles. He could
have driven through and.. .”

“Tt was Saturday night,’’ Moock ex-
plained. ‘Murphy was in Idaho. He
wanted to get married at once. He
could get the license in Idaho during
the day and I could marry them in
the evening, but if he came to Wash-
ington at night, it would be too late
to get the license.”

“Go ahead,” Brower said.
happened?”

“T met him.”

“You married them?”

“No. He said he hadn’t been able
to get the license without Mrs. Clarke
being present. He asked her if she
would go with him and be married on
Monday. She said she would, So I left
them.”

“What time was that?”

“About eleven o'clock.”

“What

Brower went over the questioning
again. Moock told his story over
without any changes. “May I go
home now?”

“No. I’m going to hold you for
awhile as a material witness. I’ll re-
lease you later on in the evening.”

Moock protested without avail.

Leaving the office, McEwan asked:
“What do you make of that?”

“It’s the most fantastic story I ever
heard.”

“You think Moock killed her and
you're holding him .. .”

“No. A guy wouldn’t make up a
yarn like that. I just want to check
with his wife on the details before
he gets a chance to talk to her. I’m
pretty sure this guy Murphy killed
her, but I want to find out for sure
that Moock wasn’t in on the deal.”

Mrs. Moock verified the details of
her husband’s story. Murphy had
lived with them and left. Mrs. Clarke
had stayed two days at their home.
Moock. had driven her to Cour
d’Alene. He had returned home at
eleven-thirty.

“That woman is honest,’ Brower
declared after listening to her story.
“Tt looks like Murphy used Moock as
a dupe to lure that woman out here
and kill her.”

“What for?”

“Her money probably. We’ll get in
touch with the east and have them
check on her.”

Brower returned to his office. From
Moock he received a detailed descrip-
tion of James Murphy. He sent out
a broadcast covering the entire north-
west, asking that Murphy be held for
him on the charge of killing Mrs.
Catherine Clarke.

Going over the case from the infor-
mation they had been able to gather,
Brower and McEwan reconstructed
the crime. James Murphy had picked
out the matrimonial ad of a wealthy
widow in the east. He lured her to
the west with a promise of marriage
and killed her for her money.

“But why use Moock?” McEwan
asked. ‘He could have met the wo-
man at the train himself. If he had
done that, we’d have had a heck of a
time identifying her or tracing him.
Looks to me like he was giving him-
self away using Moock.”

“IT can’t figure that either,” Brower
admitted.

The answer was forthcoming in the
morning. Mrs. Moock called Sheriff
Brower.

“T have just discovered a hat box
Mrs. Clarke must have forgotten to
take with her,” she said. “I thought
I had better notify you so... .”

“We'll be right there.”

T the house, Brower dug into the
hat box. In the bottom of it he
discovered a diary and several let-

ters. The: diary gave a lot of infor-
mation about Mrs. Clarke. It told that
she lived at 327 Huntington Avenue
in Boston and owned an oriental rug
store there and apparently was quite
wealthy.

The first hint of the romance with
the mysterious Mr. Murphy came
with an entry on January 1, 1928. It
read:

“Dear Diary: Here is a new year.
I am so lonely. I received a letter
today from an organization which
calls itself a Friendship Club. I won-
der if I would be completely crazy to
write to them. I know everyone
would laugh if they found out, but
it isn’t very funny to be lonely.”

A later entry read:

29

ready to receive you and I’ll have the
proofs to show you that I am what I
tell you, and we will be married right
then and there, Dear. So I am trust-
ing you are prepared.

“Of course, you know the conditions
which I have already explained to
you. But, Dearie, as I told you this
is a big surprise to my friends, even
my sister does not know it and I
won't tell her. And then I want that
bet with Dad’s old lawyer, so don’t
make no public notice until the day
we marry. We’ll have a joke on him,
what say, Baby?”

McEwan interrupted again.
guy thought of everything.”

rower went on reading: “My am-

“That

' bition is to make you happy and love

me. You may be sure, Sweetheart
mine, that I am not lazy. I’m on the
go all the time. I am truly faithful
and honest. Many of my friends: call
me ‘Old Faithful’. I am not trying
to brag, but just to give you an out-
line of myself, and show that I am
a man. Good morning, Sweetheart,
your own lover, James Murphy.”
Brower made = a_ sucking noise
through his teeth. “That guy Murphy
covered himself good—if it had
worked. But he made one mistake.
We've got these letters. If we get
him, his handwriting will hang him.”

mts Ee Ws RH

Mrs. Moock, who_had_been listen-
ing to Brower and McEwan, spoke:
“I’m afraid that won’t do any good.
Archie wrote all the letters for Mr.
Murphy.”

“What?” Brower howled. ‘Your
husband wrote these letters for Mur-
phy? Why?”

“I heard him tell Archie that he
couldn’t write very well and he
wanted to make a good impression
on the woman. My husband didn’t
want to, at first, but he finally gave
in. He told me he thought a woman
would be a good influence on Mr.
Murphy and would stop him from
drinking so much.”

McEwan gave a sigh. “I'll hand
him this much, he thought of every-
thing. It’s about the sweetest planned
murder I’ve ever heard of. He uses
Moock to front for him and even
write the letters.”

Brower nodded. “Remember, we
were wondering why he rung Moock
in on the deal. He wasn’t taking any
chances. Moock was to be the fall
guy for everything.”

“Well, if we can grab him...”

“I wonder if we ever will. You
can bet your bottom dollar his name
isn’t James Murphy. All we’ve got is
a description of the fellow—and he’s
a thousand miles away by now.”

“I’ve got one hunch. This is too
well thought out and planned to be
his first job. He must have pulled
others. We can contact the Federal
Bureau of Investigation and see. if
there have been others pulled by a
guy of his description. Using the
mails would make them a Federal
case and they’d_be interested.”

Brower sent all the information he
had gathered to the F. B. I. with an
appeal for cooperation.

Two days dragged by without any
trace of the mysterious Mr. Murphy.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation
found the Friendship Club to which
Mrs. Catherine Clarke had sent her
dollar for an introduction to death.
In a magazine put out by the club,

they found the advertisement she
had run. It stated:
“2759 Boston, Mass.—Am_ well

thought of, have many friends, but
wish to make new acquaintances in
this way. I am 35, 5-5, 165; light
brown hair, blue eyes, high school
education, excellent character. Am
broadminded in regards as to re-
ligious views. American nationality.
Have $2,000 and will inherit $3,000.”

After reading the ad Mrs. Clarke
had placed, McEwan said: “You can
see now why Murphy made up that
story about needing almost two thou-
sand so he could have ten thousand
and a wife when he claimed his in-
heritance.”

Brower nodded. Suddenly, his face

clouded. “Say, we’ve been overlook-
ing something.”
“Huh?”

“Murphy got Mrs. Clarke to come
out west. She was ready to hand
over the two grand to him. Why did
he kill her?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to marry
her and...”

“He wouldn't have had to marry

her. She was all set to give him the
or al He could have _ beat it
and...”

“She'd sic (Continued on page 78)

HER BRIDAL BED
was roadside ditch where wild blooms
grew in profusion. Mrs. Clarke, above, ;
and spot, below, where she was found.

damning evidence was ,
ninister who guided a @
ho strayed from flock,

sea oak SN a

too, Dearie. I shall
love and cherish you
many things for you.
that you have found
usband that is true.”
jagine a louse like
cried.

“Here’s another one.

‘ed: “Oh, my Darling
am growing lonely
Catherine, dear, will
etters I wrote along?
over, yours and mine,
fun. That is, if you
dy destroyed them. I
ceep yours, Dear. I
ears they will be nice
id again.”
i: “Smart guy, huh?
r to leave the letters
» they would ke found.
yorrying about them

e,” Brower said, going
etter. “I have made

>


a TRI

me ee aE

ac

“Dear Diary: I finally sent the let-
ter away today. It only cost a dollar.
No one will ever know, and maybe

. just maybe, Diary, I will find a
friend.”

“Dear Diary: “The mail box was
filled with letters today. I am going
to read them all over again. This is
so thrilling.”

“Dear Diary: I have always wanted
to go West. There is one letter from
a James Murphy in Spokane. He
sounds like an awfully nice man. I
have written him... I wonder...”

“Dear Diary: He loves me. I sent
him my picture and I have his. He
looks nice. I wonder if I am being a
fool—but I really do believe he loves
me. He said he will inherit $100,000
from his father’s estate when he pre-
sents himself with a wife and $10,000
in cash on his twenty-ninth birth-
day. He says he has already saved
$8,300 and is now looking for a wife.
I have not yet told him, but if I de-
cide that we shall marry, I can
easily let him have the money he
needs to get his inheritance.”

Brower looked up from reading the
diary. ‘What a build up,” he ex-
claimed. ‘“Can’t you just see that
guy leading her on with that phoney
hay about an inheritance?”

McEwan shook his head. “It’s piti-
ful. Go ahead, what else did she
write.”

A later entry read:

‘Dear Diary: I told him I had the
money for him. Guess what he pro-
mised? He says when he gets his in-
heritance, we will take a honeymoon
trip around the world. Won't that be
wonderful. I can hardly wait. I must
sell my business and go west to meet
him.”

30

McEwan grunted: “Hook, line and
sinker...”

Brower read the last entry:

“Dear Diary: We are off to the
West. I wonder what he will really
be like. His letters and his pictures
are so nice. I am sure he must be
nice, too, and we will be ever so much
in love.”

McEwan said: “She keeps talking
about a picture. It isn’t around any
place, is it?”

Brower rummaged through the hat
box. “I can’t find it. But here’s a
letter addressed to her from Frank
Murphy.”

Pulling it out of the envelope,
Brower read:

“My own Darling Catherine: I am
counting the days, hours and minutes
until you arrive. Please be careful
and do not let anything happen to
your precious self.

‘Do you keep all the money in your
bag or purse, dear? Put it under
your clothes, upon your person. I
suppose you remember that we need
it in cash. I’ve drawn. most of mine
already, for I did not like to draw so
much at one time.”

“The wolf!” McEwan _— growled.
“Giving her that mush but making
damn sure she had the money—and
in cash.”

“There’s some more,” Brower said.
He went on to read: “Darling, I wish

_ this was over with. If you could only

know how I feel to talk to a lady
about money in this way you would
see I’m ashamed.”

McEwan broke in. “Yeah, I bet.
And him planning to murder her
and, . 4

Brower went on with the letter:
“But you will realize what this means

“| GARDEN SPOT——

is

2

to me and you, too, Dearie. I shall
do my utmost to love and cherish you
in return and do many things for you.
You shall know that you have found
a friend and husband that is true.”

“Can you imagine a louse like
that?”” McEwan cried.

Brower said: ‘‘Here’s another one.
T’ll read it.”

HE letter stated: “Oh, my Darling

Catherine. I am _ growing lonely

for you. Say, Catherine, dear, will
you bring the letters I wrote along?
We'll read them over, yours and mine,
and we’ll have fun. That is, if you
have not already destroyed them. I
shall always keep yours, Dear. I
think in later years they will be nice
to read again and again.”

McEwan said: “Smart guy, huh?
Didn’t want her to leave the letters
any place where they would ke found.
Tll bet he’s worrying about them
now.”

“There’s more,” Brower said, going
on with the letter. “I have made

>

HER BRIDAL BED
im) was roadside ditch
& grew in profusion.
and spot, below, w

“% that gave up damning evidence was
in yard of minister who guided a.
young man who. strayed from flock.

ready to receive
proofs to show :
tell you, and we
then and there,
ing you are prep
“Of course, yo!
which I have ;
you. But, Dear:
is a big surprise
my sister does
won't tell her.
bet with Dad’s
make no public
we marry. We’
what say, Baby’
McEwan inter
guy thought of
Brower went
bition is to mak:
me. You may
mine, that I am
go all the time.
and honest. Ma
me ‘Old Faithfi
to brag, but jus’
line of myself,
a man. Good
your own lover.
Brower mad
through his teet}
covered himse!
worked. But h
We've got thes:
him, his handwr


F mess

RBH ai ae
wEics Procdiming H
weg i f ‘

te Al Wash. Sept! 30.—
t Pame y toe t ar yers vr
og the mur’ te ARety
foe
, e to the Asotin

ad at nat |

yprs 108 ‘| short ad-|
dress rR latses ‘ his inno
cence & ail a tha ‘Urcumstances |
were aga B tes To the last mo-
‘ment he had pes that) Gay. McGraw
| would commute his 8g} ta f tO \mpris-
onment for life. Hf

ola. i

Minoru GQ R rt fe
PQ : 4


i a I t inet an Septe 30, 1895. ‘yy
an MYERS, Charles E., white. hanged at Pomeroy, Washingtor- Dle 9 Aoi

s OSES oe aie oS . | Rg

Bit a as Source: “An ‘Illustrated History of Southeastern Washinet on, published

by Yestern Historical Publishing Co. Spokane, vesh. 1906 .

from the Asotin and Gsrfield Co. Sections of ae book eR
pages. 6564-65-06  - § 52 ATA RE 5 : vag.

In March, 1893, what was krown.as the myers case yanwne a casus

celebre. “Ag gleaned from residents’ and local vublica ions the ie
‘facts appear to be as.follows: Wedn® ssday night, Merch 15, soon after ‘ix
Ll o'clock, the’ City totel and. the Saloon of: John Shaver, in Asotin,

“were burned: '.In-this fire: Frank Sherry was burned to jeath. Several “
others had narrow éscanes. from. the flames.) : ‘From. the first:-this
fire was supposed to have: been. the work of: ,an tht eualbes. The

death of Sherry resulted in ‘the ‘only legal execution. that ever took
| oe volace because of a crime committed in Asotin county... Following 1s
the verdict. of the coroner's jury: | :

BS aan T, "State, of. Washington, ‘County. of keotin. In the. mat ter of the
eae » inquisition uron the body of Frank Shey ry: deceased.
"We, ‘the undersigned, the jurors ifsnoned to anvéar before _
ve: Det Swain, Justice of the Feace of “sotin Co., said stste on the S
‘loth day of sarch, 1493, to ‘inauire into the cause of the death of ~* Sie
a person found burne ed to death in the-town of. Asotin, having been ti gee
duly sworn according to law, and having made such in mouisition, 9. casas
after inspecting the body; ang hearing the testimony adduced, See
upon our oath, each and all of us do sev that -we’find the name 5
the deceased to be Frank. Sherry, & resic ient.. of. this county; tha ae
he came to his death. by suffocation and burning | in:a:. building eben oe
as tne City jigtel,'on the night of.the.15th of narch 51393, and. “ :
we, the jury, further find and believe that: ‘the Bripin of said fire’ Wee
| Was. incendiary by person or persons unknown.» All of which we nee

Naat es certify by this inquisition in writing by us signed this 16th day”
a eae of. hig ids LEDS ws “He's, Benedict, foreman; S..T. Jone S, d We.

Oe, rear, “ ee
James H. rur Ter Rhiadin Ayers.” » Lh

Jae the eaiiowins is ‘the: account of the Columbia Chronicle,
EA ~~ ColumbLa county of the Bn eeaeny eroceedl ne in the) Tin
the death of Sherry: ;

"Thursday: evening. Meech’ 23 Led’ Walton’ aenare: Sheriff of: ‘Asotin:
Co. arrived in this city having in charge” Charléa e: Myers, ‘who. isys)
under arrest charged with the burning, of the Asotin. hotel, ‘in which — “h
Frank Sherry lost his lyfe. Myers': wife from-whom he. has been Separated
for some four weeks, was. proprietress of: the” hotel and 34 is: ai :

that myers set fire to the bui 1ilding to. Gestroy.. her and: a man he
whom he was je alous. Moe Bee

r

i ee ‘. * 3 ot ‘"

"Myers lives on a farm 15 miles from Seotin’ where - ie: was Pounds iy
when arrested. . He was given a preliminary hesring at: Rsotin and bound.
over in the sum of 3% 7000. As there were none present who would go“
On his bond he was taken to Jail. He hed been there but. a..short time...
when it was learned that’ a mob consisting of the nétehbors of the 2 as
late Frank Sherry was being’ organized and would kill Myers on sicht,.
The sheriff of Asotin county not caring to takeany cha ances of standi

off a mob, had Myers ‘taken to Lewiston for’ safe, ‘keeping. The maby,

followed, when kyers was ‘taken’ to Uniontown, , and ‘finally to this.

city (Dayton), where it is considered thst* ae is. “safe.” Parties” hice
Asotin say that there is some “strong circumstantial: evitence ageinst.
y Myers. eh 3 es p

-

. ‘ail
a.
4s
¥

ida.

that Myers usually rides. -Myers- is. a men who is seid to be usually —

dame 28 Edeburn, W illiam McVey, Rk. H. Vannausdley ; apa ae

Soon after the hotel wes found to be on fire a horse was heard going

out of town. ihsre were .two bridges to cross; and, the clatter of the
horses' feet was plainly heard. The following. morning the. footerints
of tae norse were found and traced for several miles in the direction

Of Myers' ranch. Jerry McGuire, who lives three miles from Asot met
‘heard a horseman pass his house twice during the night.

another circumstance is that. a syrup can in which Myers usually
kept. ‘coal oil, was found back of the burned. ‘building, and that said
“can. was missing from the ranch; that ‘coal oil was.found on Myers!
‘saddle; that the horse ‘tracks: tally. exactly. with those of the horse |

quiet.and does not drink to excess. Several years ago he killed a man
named Stimson, who had induced his wife. to leave him. The brief.
circumstances of the murder of: Stimson. are that Stimson and Mrs...
“Mydrs passed Myers' ranch one’ day on ‘their way to visit Mrs. Myers! Ree.
people. In passing the. ‘place they. saw Myers. and waved their handkerchiefs.
at him. tyers took very little notice’ of then, but on returning in.
‘ the. evening they repeated the insult ». whereuvon Myers: got his gun and.
“kille >d Stimson. After a long trial , which cost the county $5, 000-

Myers was acauitted, as he at that time had the sympathy of the entire: Ns
“neighborhood. 3 . pivs gavela, 2% ne

7é

."Since the burning of the Asotin hotel in wicew Frank Sherry
was cremated and from which George Gibson narrowly escaped, being tt 3,
“badly durnsd about the fece and hends, the indignation of the Asotin .c746
citizens runs high. .fhere have been rumors to the effect that: ‘the ens Ng
mod will come to Dayton, nue it is to be Hones that they will le t: the . oe
law take its course." . > sae ag tome ghee ” Soe Oe

ee 8 | Asotin the tragedy created a: ‘profound. ‘sensation and sroused ee:
a most hostile snirit toward Myers. Fearing an attack upon the jail. 8 eatin
the prisoner was removed to pPenes of concealment, after dark,. where ie aac
-he was’ kevt until morning, when he was carried to Davton by Reouty 5 ioe BOONE g
Sheriff. Walton, to: be vl: ea in-jail ‘until Avril 10,° when court b), ideaatad erin
would convene at Asotin, March 31 the Asotin Sentinel Seid: omhe 2
reports published in- some of the newsnvavers about a. plan to Tyne Aes re 2G
Myers on the night of the 2ist.inst., are greatly exa ggerated, and - eee
“to a.certain extent meee what ever may have been the intention 0.
of the eight men who ame to town .on. horseheck after: dark ‘that evening,”
it was mate known to no one. There wes no talk of. lynching and no BR ee
‘threats made to burn the vrisoner at the stake by a mob of. 30° Ory. Mega Neto
‘more men. ‘the party left town in as gquiet-and orderly a. manner. as,
they came in,-and the next morning found them. attending to Rear
duties on the farm, and not nursuing a fleeing ‘officer with, his’
prisener, as newspaver rerorts save The: peonle of .Asatin ’ county
“provose to give Myers. a fair an4 impartial trial and there, need bere
no fear that an attempt will be made uvon the life of the: “prisoner:
when he is brought beck here for trial, but that the lew will take
its course."

BRae oP
‘
ww

Early in July, 13893, “yers ‘way tried, ponvicted: and. sentenced.
to be hanged, in the sunerior court “of Asotin county, Judge rier i
Sturdevant presiding. fhe members of: the jury were: Je (athe ike Combs,

de

ie Kling, William Jones; James Me Leo, ‘Winfield’:
_Bilyeu, Robert Pruett and PR, Simpson. i Se Rs a pe St

Oo | @

“yers anvealed his case to the supreme court, , Secuc eda stay ‘of
oroceedings and early in 1594 was granted a new trial. -This came before
the court in Avril, 1°94, in Asotin-county. = Myers! attorney secured
a cnange of venue to Garficld county because of alleged prejudice
against the defendant. dJune‘1l43 he was a second time found guilty, .
and the second time sentenced to be he eneed. Another avcpeal was AES oS
“taken to the Supreme court, bufthe decision of the superior court Se
of Garfield county was confirmed. -Three petitions for executive
- clemency were circulated and presented.to the governor, but they .
proved unavailing. Myers was executed at Pomeroy, Garfis 21d county,
Septemver 30, 1695, an account of which will be found. in the History.
of Garfield ConEUy. .

Pages F271 aNd G2S oo ee Bag eats
The attention of Garfield county resiients during the summer.
and fall of 1595 was absorbed to a great. extent by what. -is known as
the myers case. Charles 1 Myers had been found guilty. of murder
in the first degree at Acotin. The crime for. which he was subsequently
hanced was the murder of Frank : Sherry by burning him to death in-the
City Hotel, at Asotin,: March 4, 13893. An appeal was taken to the :
supreme court and the case remanded for a new trial. i change’ of."
venue was taken; the trial de novo.was“Held at. romeroy. “The ‘case eee
was prosecuted by M. F. Gose, “and he: secured from the court at. 0! ¥0 - ae FR
“Pomeroy another verdict of guilty.: ‘Following, is the Columbia Chronicléte |
waccount of the only legal. hanging in: Garfield county:

Pomeroy, Wash. Sevt. a gees Dark. ‘and: glooming, with. a cheerless
rain falling, dawned the last day of Charles Ee Myers on earth.

"Phe condemned man slept ‘until. ‘awakened by. the sheriff at 5:30.:
o'clock a.m. when he arose, washed and ate a he: erty oreakfast. ina
cluding limberger cheese, but no meats, to which he has shown a...
peculiar aversion throughout his confinement.” “During the meal. he
talked and laughed with the officers, exhibiting that wonterful.

“nerve and inpourtable demeanor which he has displayed throughout -, ;
“all the proceedings. “He refused a new suit of clothes which’ the vec
‘sheriff had bought for him,*and also refused to be shaved. saying ~ x 4

- that» he would die as.he had looked in AAT e 3 As to the: ‘dispositio on
“of his body.he ‘told the Sheriff to do with: it as che. ‘pleased,’ :
was immaterial to him. ?

"Myers was. ‘orought from the Peyton: Maid eee he has" been!”
confined on Friday, night, 'Sevtember 27, and lodged. ain the. city<deil
here... Zhe doomed man persistently refused all: perens Shae
until Saturday afternoon, when he sent for a testament over, ‘which ©
he ‘passed the remainder of, the. day in reading. Rear He oan ene: the.

Ae

remained sealed eae to Aacl are his dnhocente,: Rope
the jail were Scant in religious meditation. i eck ae

: At 10:40" 6 ‘clock. ‘Ae m. Myers. left ‘the. “jail for thes eeplies Neither
wife nor friend accompanied him,- but he. walked: ‘pret is Open.coffin
and mounted the scaffold steps between suarif Baldwitof Gertfeis eounty
Sheriff wormell of Asotin county; without asteatoly tai scaffold wae:
ane between the county buildings and’ the cyiew belt 5 oe i the

st and west, the street in front -was ‘packed: with: ® see of hursn faces,

eee the hill to the north WAS. alive, with: apectetors.

Sbaiaiedi id dda bad

Bsus > whee akiailled

(Doers. sterped


LEWIS

prosecutors
pt to send
S, He was
lam (“Pink

‘ought

vs, but that
in prayer.
own on his

assignment
nand Mul-
the Salva-
iey left the

NORDSTROM
d fitful; he
red in his
norning he
blackberry
vorterhouse
and coffee,

town, the
lawyer, his
, paced to
a window
i the King
racking his
1e had been

heavy roll-
he stepped
s later he-
in his pink

nt man—if
unent to a
ot Sheriff
started out
cked up the
» made his
) the execu-
Istrom was

dress Nord-
it. He was
threadbare
ted that act

2

“Come on, Charley,% said Deputy Mc-
Cann, “the judge wants to see you again.”

On the second floor ‘of the court. house,
Nordstrom’s feet, almost from habit,
turned toward the court room—so many
times had his feet hopefully trod that path
and come as disconsolately back again.
deputy tugged at the prisoner’s arm and
told him the judge had moved his quarters
a flight farther up. And almost before he
realized it Nordstrom was ushered into a
small, specially built room, furnished only
with a cot. A curtain hung before the door
—a black curtain—which hid from view
the sinister thing which for ten years
Colonel Lewis had battled to avoid.

AS SHERIFF ED CUDIHEE began to read the
death warrant Nordstrom unbuttoned
his shirt collar and pulled at his necktie.
He was fighting for self control.

“Ts too warm in here,” he complained.

When Cudihee had finished (he took
twenty minutes laboriously intoning the
legal phrases) Salvation Army girls were
admitted. As they sang, Nordstrom wept,
his sobs rising above the hymns and the
prayers of Captain Larson. Then suddenly
he grew angry and threw his coat violently
against the brick wall. The minister
pleaded with him and finally quieted him.

At 9:14 all save Private Hawkinson re-
tired; he was, by Nordstrom’s request, to
accompany him on the last walk.

At 9:15 Sheriff Cudihee ascended the
scaffold and examined it carefully to see
that all was in readiness. Three ropes led
through three holes into a booth where
three deputies awaited the order to pull.
This triple contrivance was arranged so
that none would ever know who sent Nord-
strom hurtling into eternity.

“Keep order and refrain from smoking,”
said Sheriff Cudihee as he raised his hand
for silence, much as though he might have
been the announcer saying, “Hats off, Gen-
tlemen,” to a crowd at a prize fight. One
hundred and fifty curiously inclined guests
put out their cigars and pipes and huddled
silently together in the drafty, unfinished
attic which was certainly a place fitted for
the thing about to be consummated.

“Pyt on your coat, Charley,” said a
friendly guard. “Buck up—here’s a drink
for you—it’s time.”

Stddenly pleas for mercy resounded
through the attic; but for that, a dropping
pin could have been heard. At last the
curtain parted and out came three deputies

THE CALENDAR OF CRIME

Or that a jealous, ardent suitor, rejected
by Miss Winters, angered at seeing her
in the company of a dark-skinned native,
had pursued them and taken vengeance in
Gethsemane? If the Palestine authorities
are pressed by Uncle Sam to arrive at a
solution of the case, I think they would be
wise to look into these two possibilities.

When she touched Constantinople in her
travels Joan Winters wrote, “1 stood in
the shadow of death.” Even then, perhaps,
she was aware of an enemy relentlessly
dogging her footsteps.

He TEUBER, THIRTY - TWO - YEAR - OLD
CHICAGOAN, was an automobile me-
chanic once upon a time. Possibly that is
the reason he took so much care with his
fingernails after he deserted honest toil
and became connected with the gambling
racket.
Accompanied by a woman later identified
as his mistress, he went to ‘a barber shop
at 1031 North Clark
MuRDER AT THE Street in Chicago a
Manicure TABLE few weeks ago. The
woman sat in a chair
and one of the barbers began to trim her

carrying between them the screaming thing
which was Nordstrom. Protesting his in-
nocence with every cry, he was deposited
on the floor of the scaffold.

“Oh Lord in Heaven, help me! I’ve
done no wrong. Jesus save me,” he
moaned.

“1? HIM TO A BOARD,” commanded Cudi-
hee, who had prepared for even this
eventuality. Quickly the condemned man
was strapped and raised to his feet. The
noose and the black cap were adjusted, and
Deputy Williams gave the signal for the
springing of the trap.

Nordstrom had depressed his chin in
such a manner that it had been impossible
to adjust the rope properly ; but fortunately
the knot slipped to a point just behind the
right ear and his neck was “neatly” broken
by the fall. Ten minutes later he was pro-
nounced dead, and the ten year fight of
cane Jim Ham Lewis had come to an
end,

Among those who witnessed the execu-
tion was Thomas Mason, who was there
with his sons, Tom, Joe and John.

“Nothing could suit me better than this
execution,” he said grimly. “I have wit-
nessed it with the best of feeling.”

Throughout the day the grim wager re-
mained on the board at Considines’; but
sometime in the wee hours of the follow-
ing morning, a swamper, wielding a beer-
soaked towel, rubbed it out. That he was
a countryman of Charles Nordstrom and
that there was a tear in his bleary eye as
with one swipe he erased the sinister line
is probably of no consequence, although
true, for many mourned the passing of this
man whose case had become a constant
source of conversation in the state of
Washington.

Colonel Lewis had gone home to rest, and

when the end came he made no comment

on it.

Old timers are still divided on the ques-
tion of Nordstrom’s guilt despite the
strong show of circumstantial evidence, but
none questioned the sagacity of Colonel
Lewis. In recognition of his ability they
sent him first to the lower house of Con-
gress and then to the Senate. Years later
he returned to Illinois and found that his
fame had preceded him. Soon he was a
political luminary, and still is.

He had better luck with the Considines,
They were acquitted on the grounds of sel
defense.

Continued from page 23

hair. Teuber proceeded toward the back
of the room and soon was sitting at a
glass-topped table across from a mani-
curist, having his nails prettied up.

A few moments after the couple had
entered, a man came in the front door of
the shop, saw Teuber, and said, “Hello,
Harry!” Then he went out, The barber
continued to clip the locks of Teuber’s
mistress, and the manicure girl proceeded
with her filing and snipping and polishing
of the ex-mechanic’s fingernails.

Suddenly there were four shots.

Teuber slumped over the glass-topped
table, upsetting the pan of water in which
his fingers were dipped. He was mortally
wounded.

Teuber’s mistress—so the barbers iden-
tified her from a photo—tore off the white
sheet that had been thrown about her and
ran screaming out of the shop.

No one knew exactly what had hap-
pened. It seemed most likely, however,
that the killer had entered the back room
of the place and shot Teuber through a
doorway which was no more than three
feet from the manicure table. None of
the witnesses would admit he had seen the
assassin.

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:

white man, as the tracks of No. 7 boots,
full-nailed, are plainly traced through the
field along with Dwyer’s tracks. Mr. Saun-
ders says the house was a picture of neat-
ness, and the poor girl had arranged the
little stock of baby clothes, which she ex-
pected to use next week, in a box made
especially for the purpose.”

Oy months before an Englishman had
been murdered in the same mysterious
manner. As anxious San Juan Islanders
banded together for protection, the Vic-
toria fire department lowered its flags to
half-mast.

Two days after the slayings, Victoria
observed one of its saddest occasions as
“...the most melancholy cortege ever
formed in the city wound its way through
the streets to the new cemetery... The
cortege was composed of firemen, Odd
Fellows, and citizens on foot and in car-
riages. The streets through which it pass-
ed were thronged with the young and old
of both sexes and all conditions of life.

“In truth, it was a sad, sad sight, one
on which we hope never again to look.
_ Two young hearts, happy in each other’s
love, and rejoicing in the prospect of a

28

Service was held in Victoria’s Christ Church.

long, useful and happy career, struck
down with not a moment’s warning, by
the hands of an assassin!

“At about 2 o’clock the procession left
the hall—the bodies being borne in two
hearses—and as the line moved, the sol-
emn strains of Schaffer’s band and the
melancholy clanging of the enginehouse
bells (the selfsame bells that only a few
months before pealed for joy on the occa-
sion of the wedding of the man and wom-
an whose requiem they now sounded)
touched every heart. As the cortege passed
up Fort Street the emotion of some of the

Spectators found vent in tears and sobs.

“The bodies were conveyed to Christ
Church Cathedral where the beautiful
burial service of the Church of England
was read by Dean Cridge. At the conclu-
sion of this solemn ceremony the bodies
were borne to the cemetery, where,
amidst a general outburst of sorrow, they
were laid...

“Within the cold grave’s silent breast,
Where sorrow’s tears no more are shed,
No more the ills of life molest.”

E artier, members of the Tiger Com-
pany and citizens had raised $500 reward

Dean Cridge conducted service for murdered couple.

for apprehension of the killer. As the tra-
gic couple was laid to rest, provincial of-
ficers and a Washington detective were
reported to be “on the track.”

As Washington Territory posted a re-
ward of $1,000, it was learned an Indian
and a Kanaka had visited a farm on the
outskirts of Victoria for provisions. Chat-
ting amiably with the farmer, the strang-
ers had asked if he’d heard of the San
Juan Island murders. When the pioneer
identified one of his visitors as having
threatened Dwyer with “an untimely end”
more than once, charging a previous
claim to the captain’s farm, police hur-
ried to the scene. But the mysterious duo,
armed with a shotgun and rifle, tad van-
ished.

However, later the same day they pre-
sented themselves at the government land
office, proving themselves to be “peace-
ful settlers in search of land.” Their des-
cription and weapons were a Striking co-
incidence, in light of subsequent events.

Another day passed. “No fresh arrests
have been made...” the Victoria Daily
Standard reported. “Although our police
deserve praise for the alacrity and untir-
ing energy with which they sought and are


NUANA, Joseph, hanged at Port Townsend, Washington , on March 6, 187k.

DID THEY GET TH

MAGAZINE, MARCH, 1976. J ih tha it

by T.W. Paterson

| JRGING THE RELUCTANT CALF

onward, Mrs. Terrell wearily plod-
ed along the dusty land to her neighbor's
farm. It was four hard miles to the Dwyer
homestead and the old farmwife mentally

chided the captain’s carelessness in let-

ting his calf wander off. Even if he and
his pretty young wife were their nearest
neighbors and best friends, she would still
tell him tactfully to be more careful in
the future.

At the end of a freshly-turned field, har-
nessed to the plough, stood Dwyer’s team.
Approaching, she observed a man lying
on the ground beside the patiently waiting
horses. Smiling despite her weariness, she
thought: That Cap’n Dwyer— always jok-
ing. He thinks he’s fooling me by pretend-
ing to be asleep.

“Yoo hoo, Cap’n! Come now, I’m onto
your tricks; you can’t fool old Mrs. Ter-
rell!”

When Dwyer failed to respond (by ris-
ing with a sheepish grin), she toed him
gently. And then she knew! With a stifled
shriek, she wheeled about, hobbling back
as fast as she could toward her own home.
When she finally staggered, exhausted,
into her front yard, she could barely

26

WESTERN FRONTIER

Beautiful San Juan Island (Wash’n Terr.) where a killer |

« be 7

S82 @ :

Wee
.

*

_ Photo: Courtesy Wash+State Dept: of Comm. & £t: Development. -

speak for fright and lack of breath.

Hours later Mrs. Terrell’s almost inco-

herent description of her grim discovery,
that morning of May 16, 1873, had swept
the Pacific Northwest. As the first,
sketchy reports were verified by tele-
graph, thousands in Washington Terri-
tory and British Columbia excitedly dis-
cussed what was to become one of the
most shocking and unusual murder cases
in pioneer history.

“Yesterday afternoon a telegraphic des-
patch reached us conveying the news of
the horrible murder of Mr. and Mrs.
Henry Dwyer, on San Juan Island,” re-
ported the Victoria Colonist.

“The brief details of the message gave
only a faint allusion as to the reason for
the commission of the crime, but it states
that the unfortunate woman, found yester-
day morning breathing her last on the

floor of the dwelling house occupied by '

herself and her husband, had been hit
with a bullet in the side, probably from a
gun discharged through the window.

Mr. Dwyer’s body was discovered about
200 yards from his residence, being shot
in the head, and having fallen down in the
furrow of the field he was in the act of
plowing.

“The murder will doubtless arouse the

urked a century ago.

practical ly

:

ire and sympathy of every inhabitant of
San Juan Island, and it is to be sincerely
hoped that every effort will be made to
mete out justice to the murderers. The
bodies of the deceased twain will prob-
ably be brought to this city for burial, as
they have many friends and relatives re-
siding (here)...”

The Dwyers had been a popular couple.
A member of the Victoria Tiger Engine
Company before taking up permanent
residence on San Juan Island, the 35-year-
old Nova Scotian had been well known in
the Northwest as owner of the sloop
Alarm. The Dwyers had been married less
than a year and Silina, who was barely
20 years old, had been expecting her first
child within days. .

Immediate details of the atrocity were
scant. Time of the slayings was tentative-
ly fixed as about noon of the day before
Mrs. Terrell’s discovery. Dwyer had been
shot through the head while ploughing,
his wife murdered in the house. Apparent-

ly she had heard or witnessed his slaying

and locked herself in, the assassin firing
through a window.
Speculation as to motive and identity

_ of the murderer(s) centered on a previous

relationship of Dwyer with an Indian
woman who had borne him several chil-

=o

Photo: Courtesy B.C. Provincial Archives.

Port Townsend, where a gallows await

dren. Dwyer had terminated the romance
by marrying Salina, and it was supposed
the squaw’s proud Haida kinfolk had
taken revenge. Lending some support to
this theory was the report that the house
had not been ransacked.

The following day the bodies were re-
turned to Victoria, and the inquest got
underway.

Despite the fact that San Juan Island
was now American, (after the famous “Pig
War,”) B.C. Provincial Police assumed

charge of the investigation, apparently —

with Washington Territory approval.

As officers reconstructed the crime,
they surmised Dwyer and his slayer had
talked then argued, for some time, the
killer accompanying him as he ploughed.
Finally, as Dwyer turned his team to be-
gin a new furrow, his antagonist, enraged,
shot him through the back of the head.

All this time Mrs. Dwyer had been seat-
ed on the front porch, watching as she
sewed on a scarlet gown for her expected
baby. Her pair of scissors were found on
the steps where she had dropped them.

“It is supposed that, on seeing tne mur-
derer approach, she fled inside the house
and locked the door. The door was lock-
ed and the key and the gown, bathed in
blood, lay by the woman’s side.

“The murderer, evidently wishing to

destroy the only witness of his first crime, .

fired through the window with his rifle
and only slightly wounded Mrs. Dwyer in
the side. He appears then to have smash-
ed in the lower sash, jumped inside the
house, and shot Mrs. Dwyer with her hus-

Photo: Courtesy B.C. Provincial Archives.

ed the San Juan killer of the popular Dwyers.

Members of the Tiger Engine Company led funeral procession

band’s gun, which was loaded with buck-
shot, riddling the head and breast. Some
papers, two watches and a small amount
of money only are missing, although a
trunk was ransacked...

“The perpetrator is believed to be a

eae
ae .
ia
tae

Ee Be i an

for Dwyers.

27

se ri at

34

MAHONEY, James Ee, white,

hanged Washington

MASTER T

Ge

SHE WAITED FOR THE “RIGHT MAN”

*

TO COME

ALONG—THEN GAVE HER HAND TO A MURDERER

es IS THE STORY of a lady known as “Klondike
Kate,” a slippery ex-con with the charm of a Romeo
and a couple of hard-boiled detectives who were so
stubborn in attempting to prove a murder that they
almost lost their jobs. The case took place in Seattle,
Washington, back in 1921, but because of its bizarre angles
it remains fresh today in the memories of law enforce-
ment officials of the Northwest.

The “Kdendike Kate” in question was vrotthe celebrated
female sourdough of song and legend who panned gold
in the Yukon with her own two hands. In her own way,
however, this Kate was just as colorful.

Her maiden name was Keiler—Kate Keiler. In her
early 20s, thirsty for adventure and hungry for lucre, she
left her native Seattle and struck out for Montana. For
years she presided over dance halls in the rough, tough,
mining towns of Butte and Anaconda. The folks back
home heard exciting rumors about her from time to time,

one of them being that she interspersed her hostessing ©

with appearances as an entertainer; she reputedly had
been seen performing that wicked dance known as the
can-can.

Either the dance-hall routine eventually proved too
hectic—some of her suitors became too ardent—or Kate
simply had to give vent to her wanderlust. She pulled
up stakes in Montana, settled for a while in Vancouver,
and finally traipsed all the way up to wild and woolly
Alaska. ;

In those days of the gold rush not all the money was
being made by prospectors. There was, for example, a
young doctor named Mooers who charged sky-high fees

for dishing out pills and setting fractured bones, and who
dabbled in shrewd speculation on the side. He was sup-
posed to be worth several hundred thousand dollars.

Kate promptly latched onto him and before long they
were married, even though the medico was several years
her junior.

Dr. Mooers continued to prosper over the years, and
when he died he left close to half a million dollars to
‘console ‘his widow. Kate returned to Seattie, where she
made some judicious investments in real estate. One of
her properties was the Sophia apartment building on
Denny Way, and.another was the New Baker Hotel. She
elected to live in a sumptuously furnished suite in the
Sophia.

Because of her wealth and certain eccentricities, Kate
became a well-known figure around the city. She fought
hard to retain a youthful appearance, and she dyed her
hair blonde. She sported an ankle-length coat made of
the finest mink, as well as a mink muff with tails which
dangled down below her knees. Her display of jewels
made acquaintances wonder if she aspired to be a female
Diamond Jim Brady. Not content with wearing a glitter-
ing collection of precious stones, she always carried with
her a chamois bag filled with unset diamonds which were
worth a small fortune.

“What good is money if you can’t show it off?” she was
fond of saying. ee LEY ghee de

There were some who said Kate’s display of wealth was
bait set out in hopes of catching another husband. To a
certain extent this suspicion was shared by two nieces
who were her closest relatives, Mrs. Carrie Stewart and