California, S, 1885-1969, Undated

— ~ ” lf} Lied” 2d i “reevwre,

Q 5
vacramento Union
7 i ;

bege 3, col. 3

SOREL ee = ren
=~ = he oem oe as

- Merper tn Soxoka.— A> man Damed John

Sheldon the first iceman ever in Sonora wag

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.Murdéred 0D Satur y night, The coroner’s jury,
f)

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Thursday, May 3, 1855

San Franciseo
page 2, col. 4

—

LETTER FROM SONOBA.

Morder of Joha Sheiden —Arreastef the Yur-
derera—HKaine—Hining-- Niniag Coven.
tien, Ac. : ;

: | Sowona, April 29, 1855.

1- Our citizens wete astonished this morning by the

report th&t/Jobo Sheldon; one of the night-watch
had beer assassinated about 4 o'clock this morning
on his best. After the fatal stab was given, Sheldon
succeeded in getting to the United States Hotel, a
tew rods distant from the scene, and in afew minutee
expired. He described the assassins, but did not
know their names. In the encounter, one of the as.
sailants Inst his hat, which, togetber with Shelden’s
hat and cloak, were found this morning, and led t-
the arrest of several Chilenos. Sheldun’s pistyo] wae
misring, the rascals having taken care, after strikiny
hin down, to diearm him. From information ob
tuined by our energetic Sheriff, be wos induced tu
folluw om the track of one of the party, who hac
been seen guing towards “ Tuttletown," at which
place he found and arrested him, in the act of clean-
ing bie knife ine blacksmith ebop, upon the blade of
which blo :d was still vis ble. He also bad Sheldon’
pistol, There is uo doubt several of the parties are
now in custody, and sufficient complicity has been
fixed upon them to insure thein a * dance upon oir”
if Judge Lynch could have an opportunity to try
them; but the lew will be maintained in regard tu

all that the Sheriff has in custudy,

The deceased is an old resident of this city and
county, aud has, in the capacity of policeman, ou
nore than ove occasion, used hia pistol upon sone
of the countrymen of thors who, for retenvy, bave
killed bim. From several indications, the Spauieb

| races here have aasumed that the abolition of the

Recorder's Cuurt removes all restraint upon thei
actions, aud the desperadves. who felt theinselvor
uuder 4 strict surveillance of the former pulive, have

| now brokon out in open defiance of the cuunty au-

thuzitics.

2


‘ton and there is a
car did too. I’m
neantime you keep
en.

there was little if
e buyers of either
he reached Stock-
fephone directory
ss of the two shoe

both dealers shook
‘y but it had been
nind that he had
and so he was not
: again looked in
listed the dealers
tomobiles in and

DARING

around Stockton, He was quite well ac-
quainted with the city and was soon talk-
ing to one of the car dealers.

“I am certain that none of my new cars
has been in that vicinity recently,” the
dealer stated at once. Lucot now drove
to another garage and here he learned a
startling fact.

“Yes, I do have a new car missing, to-
gether with the salesman and the plates,”
this informant declared at once. “I
haven’t notified the police because I
trusted the salesman who has the car. He
left here on the thirty-first of December
and I have heard from him only once
since then. He wired that he had a good
deal worked up to sell several cars and

DETECTIVE

A detective and a patrol-
man crashed into the
blonde’s apartment and
trapped the surprised
gunman.

trucks to a mining .con-
cern over near Sonora.”

Lucot suppressed the
excitement he felt at
hearing this, for he saw
that he had apparently
struck the back track of
the cunning murderer.
But yet he could not be
- certain as to whether
‘ the salesman had been a
victim of foul play or if
he himself were the
criminal, All this grant-
ing of course that the
seeming clue .was not
mere coincidence.
“What is this sales-
man’s name and ad-
dress?” he queried.

“His name is Harold
W. Lage,” was the an-
swer, and he added an
address which the sher-
iff wrote in his notebook.
Now the officer
described the murder vic-
tim and the dealer nod-
ded sadly. “That must be
Harold Lage,” he said.

As he drove toward

the address of Harold
Lage, Lucot was almost
certain that the sales-
man was the man in the
morgue at Jackson.
Stopping his car in a
quiet neighborhood the
sheriff pressed the bell
of a Spanish type bunga-
low_and in a moment a
woman stood framed in
the doorway. He knew
that this was probably
the wife of Harold Lage
and she invited him to
enter.
_ Stating that her hus-
band’s employer had
informed her of the im-
pending visit from the
sheriff she added that
she had received a wire
from Lage a couple of
hours before. He had
wired he would be home in a few days,
that he was still on a big deal and had
asked her to wire him $100 with an
identification waiver. She had sent the
money.

Sheriff Lucot tried not to show how
astounded he was at this news. But the
sharp eyes of the officer had flashed
around the room and were staring in fas-
cination at a large portrait which stood
on the piano. “I am certainly’ glad to
hear that you had this news,” he re-
marked and put on his hat to leave. “By
the way,” he spoke casually, “where was
Mr. Lage when he wired to you ?”

“In Sonora,” the. woman smiled and
Lucot's eyes flickered. He tried not to

hurry as he walked back to his car, but his
heart was pounding and he could hardly
refrain from running. Once in the ma-
chine he ignored all speed laws until he
reached a drug store where he fairly
dived into a telephone booth.

Quickly, he called police headquarters
in Sonora and when he replaced the re-
ceiver he again hastened to his car, head-
ing the machine toward that city.

When the officer reached Sonora po-
lice headquarters he was met with a re-
port which was a severe blow. “The man
had already picked up the money when
we received your call,” the chief told
Lucot.

The county officer was dejected. He
had hoped that this hot lead would ter-
minate the case and the setback was
demoralizing. For when he had seen the
portrait in the Lage home he had realized
instantly that the salesman had indeed
been the victim of a cunning killer who
was displaying the cruel nerve of tele-
graphing the widow of the man he had
murdered, asking for funds.

HE sheriff wondered how he would

ever pick up the trail again, for it was
fairly reasonable to suppose that the
killer had by this time rid himself of at
least the dealer’s plates on the big car, if
indeed he had not disposed of the ma-
chine entirely. Going to a telephone he
called Podesta and related what he had
discovered.

When he reached his office in Jackson
he found the deputy pacing the floor. “I’m
sure glad you are back,” Podesta burst
out excitedly. ‘Plenty has popped up
since you phoned. This killer must have
a partner and he is laying down a wide
open trail for us to-follow. He is writ-
ing checks on Lage and the dealer, from
a checkbook he must have stolen from
the salesman, The name of the dealer is
printed on the checks.”

“What makes you think the killer has
a partner ?” Lucot asked quickly. “Maybe
he is passing the checks himself.”

Podesta shook his head. ‘No, there
must be two of them. Just listen to this

‘description of the forger. He does not

wear glasses and he does not have a mus-
tache. And he certainly is not crippled.
The only thing that agrees with our de-
scription of the killer is his approximate
height, weight and. agea, And that doesn’t
mean a thing. Too many men of that
general appearance.”

The sheriff rubbed his jaw and was
thoughtful for several moments. But be-
fore he could reply to these remarkable
statements the door burst open and an
official of a local bank entered.

The banker was obviously agitated.
“Something mighty queer has happened
at the bank,” he said. “Look at this.” He
thrust a small package at Lucot.

The sheriff opened the parcel and
found several pieces of neatly folded
newspaper wrapped in common brown
wrapping paper. The two officers looked
inquiringly at the banker.

“On New Year’s eve;” the banker be-
gan, “a man who said he was C. W. Fair-

[Continued on page 67]

47


and the

By G. H. PIPES

and JACK CLEMENTS

| FATAL LOVE TRAP

t the rancher had
here rd no acci- |
apon was in sight -
2 ahead ti6 time —
e where he ‘called |

rently been in his 4
dréssedinaneatly . J
y on his back with We:
sive gray hat .
ft hand.’ A dark
overcoat had been

“DARING |

rolled up and placed beneath his head
on the back of which was a deadly
wound,

Now the coroner finished with his task
and nodded to the sheriff. Lucot at once
began his own examination of the corpse
and it took him only a moment to learn
that all the pockets of the clothing were
empty and that all labels had been cut
from the garments.

Picking up the hat he saw that the
sweat-band had been removed and he
scowled. “Stripped clean of identification
possibilities,” he growled.

He rose stiffly to his feet and drew on
his gloves. “What gets me,” he went
on, “is that,” he indicated the pillowed
head of the dead man, “and that.” He
nodded toward the right foot of the vic-
tim. It was bare and frozen. ‘

But what had caused the sheriff’s com-

ment was the strange fact that the left»

foot was encased in a black oxford and a
silk sock.

“Why,” he asked, “did the killer steal
one of his victim’s shoes and socks ? Could
it be that he is a man with only one leg?
Or was that part of the plan to prevent
identification ?”

His gaze strayed to the snow near the
body where there were three sets of foot-
prints. He stopped suddenly and studied
the niarks in the snow. “Look,” he said,
“two men walked here and one man
walked away. And that other set of prints
was made by a woman!” °

Carefully, the officer eyed the impres-
sions. But none was sharply outlined and
it was plain that they had been made sev-
eral days before. In fact it was only in
the shelter of the thicket that they could
be readily identified as having been made
by human feet. Once they reached the
open mountain side; the fierce winter
winds had almost completely covered
them with snow.

Tee veteran officer studied the im-
prints of the high heels and small
shoes. He turned his head from side to
side and his expression was intent as he
scrutinized the female footprints. Then
he turned suddenly to the deputy.
“There is something decidedly phony
here,” he announced. “Look at the depth
of those tracks and compare the average
distance between them. That woman ap-
parently walked away from here with the
killer. But how did she get here?
There are none of her tracks
pointed this way. And notice that
she must have stood stock still

DETECTIVE

and near the victim while he was being
murdered !”

He paused but before Podesta could
venture a reply to these amazing state-
ments, the sheriff went on. “There was
no woman here. This killer deliberately
planted those tracks. The missing shoe
and sock together with the pillowed head
are probably a part of the plant as well.
We had better look around in those
bushes.”

The two men plunged into the thicket
and began thrusting their way through
the frozen brush. A moment later, Po-
desta gave a cry. “Here are the three
shoes, Sheriff,” he called and rejoined
his chief.

They examined the pair’ of woman’s
pumps with interest. The shoes were al-
most new and were size four. Inside
was the name of the store in Stockton that
had sold them. In the man’s oxford there
was a dealer’s name from the same city.

Lucot grunted and pocketed the pumps
and oxford. Coroner Daneri caught his
attention. “As you have already seen,
this fellow was shot twice. One bullet
entered the brain and .another went
through the neck, Either would have
caused almost instant death and they were
both fired from very close range. He
was shot from behind, and death occurred
at least a week ago.”

The sheriff nodded. “Thanks. I'll be
around gand see you and get a complete
report ‘after you have time for a real
examination. Be sure to recover those
bullets. They might help to trap a mur-
derer.”

Lucot realized that the first thing he
must try to do was to identify the murder
victim. Although he had already noted
that the socks did not have a laundry
mark, he hoped that the underwear might
bear’one. How, the officer asked himself,
had the murderer. managed to lure his
victim’ to the lonely spot? There were
just two, wounds on the body, and except

for the footprints the snow was unbroken,

This seemed to prove that no struggle
had preceded the crime. The bloodstained
snow ruled out the chance that the man
had been killed elsewhere and transported
to the mountain where he had been found.

“They had to come here in a car,”

’ Podesta theorized. “A man dressed like

that doesn’t walk through the mountains

_ in this weather. Nor would he have been

hunting. A car up here at this time of

THIS CRIME 1S LOCATED NEAR JACKSON, CALIF.

year would be bound to attract attention
and we might be lucky enough to locate
someone who saw it and could describe
the machine and the occupants.”

As soon as the body had been taken to
an undertaking parlor-in Jackson, Lucot
and Podesta set to work in their attempt
to identify the victim. An examination
of the underwear failed to reveal any
laundry mark and Coroner Daneri re-
ported that the man had had no dental
work, so any chance to trace a chart was
eliminated.

“The lack of laundry marks makes me
think that he was a married man and his
wife did the family laundry,” Podesta
said.

“Yes, but unless the killer knew that,
he took a long chance,” Lucot said. “That
apparent oversight and the location of
the murder scene looks to me as if the
two' men must have been rather well ac-
quainted and trusted each other.”

HE sheriff’s next move was to finger-

print the corpse and mail copies of
the prints to the state bureau of criminal
identification at Sacramento and another
copy to Washington, Then he prepared
a description of the victim calling the
newspaper office for a photographer to
take a closeup.

No one had been reported missing in
Amador county, yet Lucot realized that
the man might be a newcomer and he was
taking no chances. With the description
he now mailed out copies of the picture
to all towns for a distance of 500 miles
around Jackson.

This done, he left another deputy on
duty at the morgue and with Podesta, set
out to try to locate someone who had
seen the victim in the town before his
death. “I believe you are right about
their going up there in a car,” he told
the deputy. “We might as well try the
filling stations and garages the first thing.
There is always a possibility that they
stopped the car somewhere and will be
remembered.”

The attendants at three filling stations
shook their heads at the officers’ questions
but when they talked to the proprietor of
a small garage the man nodded soberly.

“TI was over by the undertaker’s when
the dead man was brought in,” he stated.
“T saw that fellow about a week ago. He
was with another man in a new blue
Lincoln sedan. The expensive car
attracted my attention. This fel-
low who was killed was driving
and he didn’t say anything. But

45

nowenomnmeiveacetil

a


e, and. rapped, “I'll
re on it, Sleeger!”
!” Sleeger yelled
lim! Sure I killed
tor it.”

‘aned back with a
lowing the terror-
chance to compose
“Do you want to

vly. “You're right,”
the old man had a
te wasn’t splitting
till right with me. I
cold him if I didn’t
, I'd go to you fel-
bout it.

he jumped me, and
th the hammer. I
protect myself, but
n I had to quit.

is back and I saw
up the hammer and
slams were enough.
1 like an eggshell.
lead, I dragged him
ved him in.

pin the rap on Wil-
ret rid of the body
1 stopped snooping

on had been typed
oung patricide was
oga county jail at
it was proved that
on the death ham-

@::::: of this
sion, was con-
“second degree and
nd a term of from
d the gray walls of

annemora.

n, as used in this story
-Ed.)

the serial numbers
nce of getting your
che prowler tries to
takes a chance that
» record these num-

at the burglar is al-
vou than you are of
»olice and the entire
behind you. He'll
e he gets a chance.
o him,

‘LASHES

‘k thinking award
rey, Denver, Colo.,
ing that two pas-
1g to rob him he
cy store, saying he
irets. He got them,
-ense number of his!
contact the police.
ire enough, the two
their stickup and
”’s money and the
d and caught a few
patrol cars which
cer’s alarm.
vungster in Kilgore,
r to the authorities

A soldier had
furned it in said
xid” who wanted

ne-boy USO....

THE EDITOR.

child, a mine superintendent, came into
the bank with this package. He said it
contained something over a thousand
dollars and that as he had some business
to attend to, he wanted me to keep the
money in the vault until he called for it.”

The officers leaned forward, their in-
terest growing. “Now, since the bank
would be closed the next day,” the man
resumed, “Fairchild said he would call
for the package on the second.”

When the man did not return and the
package finally was opened in the bank
the fake was discovered. :

“But I fail to see the point in the trick,”
the sheriff mused. “What would prompt
anyone to leave a dummy package of
money at the bank? What did he gain?
Or even hope to gain? Give me a descrip-
tion of this Fairchild. I think I already
know how’he looked, however.”

And as the officer had surmised, the
description which the banker gave was
a duplicate of the one they had of the
man who had last been seen with Harold
Lage. The banker left the office after a
few moments and Lucot mulled over the
unusual happening.

What could be the meaning behind the
strange act? A scheme to defraud the
bank? Possibly. But how?

“There’s nothing about this case that
follows the ordinary routine,” Lucot ob-
served. “This fellow is either as crazy as
a bedbug or he figures to run me that
way. Why he pulled that trick at the bank
is beyond me. The whole thing sounds
like something out of a nightmare.”

Sia a RS a

[Continued from page 47]

Podesta agreed and the sheriff went

n.

“If this fellow doesn’t continue to
throw out these false clues, he seems
pretty likely to get away. But my guess
is that he will slip. You may be right
about his having a partner but judging
from what has happened at the bank and
all the other faked mysteries, I have a
hunch otherwise.

“Remember the phony clues that
started the case off? They were evidently
pulled just to keep us guessing and some-
thing tells me that this killer was dis-
guised when he was here and is now
merely using his natural appearance.”

The deputy knew the sheriff was right.
It was a simple matter for the fugitive
to stop in the apartment of one of his
numerous girl friends and change his dis-
guise while she read accounts of the
chase,

The sheriff and his deputy discussed
the motive. It had to be robbery they
decided, for everyone talked to held that
Lage had no enémies. Besides, an enemy
would scarcely be so dramatic about
things nor would the car disappear as the
Lincoln had.

They again got in touch with authori-
ties explaining that the forger was play-
ing the first class hotels and garages and
to warn them to be on the alert.

But the next day passed without any
more news except that the bureau of
identification in Sacramento wired that
they did not have the victim’s finger-
prints. And that same afternoon a wire

Elusive Slayer and the Fatal Love Trap

from Washington stated the same thing.
Of course this did not matter now that
Lage had been identified. A relative of
the slain salesman appeared to claim the
body and it began to look as if the case
might have to be marked unsolved.

Apparently the killer had ceased to
forge the checks and there was no way
in which to get a line on his whereabouts.
Then on Jan. 18, Lucot received several
reports in onesday, They were all alike
in that in each instance the man had paid
a modest bill either at some good hotel,
or had made a purchase at a filling sta-
tion and received considerable change
from a bad check he presented.

Lucot got out a huge map of California
and studied it. He was struck by one thing
at once. The murderer seemed to be head-
ing in a great rough circle of the state,
for after leaving a trail of rubber checks
in Sonora he had gone through Yosemite
national park, Merced, Los Angeles,
Indio, Mojave, Bakersfield, Santa Maria,
then back to Bakersfield, and the last
message was from Sonora again.

One report in the bunch interested
Lucot more than the others. This was
from an automobile paint concern in
Sonora and here the forger had appar-
ently varied his routine of working on
filling stations and hotels only. This par-
ticular check had been presented on
Jan, 3 but the dealer had not banked it
immediately, so the forgery had gone
undiscovered for this long period.

Holding this message in his hand, Lucot
frowned. At last he nodded slowly. “I

Adds good taste
to any scene

A

d
+, Hollywoo
-COLA is the rage ! taste, size

pig reasons - °°

pa

*% Pepsi-Cola is made only by Pepsi-Cola Company, Island City, N. Y¥. Bottled locally by Authorized Bottlers fro

ae “
m coast to coast.

67


SL PO ON 8 een

the other man” was very
friendly. He talked a lot and
told me that he was a gold
mine superintendent.”

The officers waited tensely
when Lucot put the most im-
portant question. ‘Did you
know either of the men? Or
have you ever seen either of
them before ?”

The garageman shook his
head glumly. ‘No, I never
saw either of them before.”

“Give us a description of
this other man, to the best of
your ability,” the sheriff re-
quested.

The man wrinkled his fore-
head for a moment. “Well,
I didn’t really pay a great
deal of attention to him,” he
said slowly. “I was pretty
busy working on a car right:
then. But it seems to me that
he was about thirty years old
and was well dressed. He
had reddish hair and a small
sandy mustache. And he was
wearing heavy horn-rimmed
glasses because I noticed that
they became steamed when he
entered the warm room and
he was polishing them.”

The man paused, then sud-
denly he snapped his fingers.
“Another thing,” he ex-
claimed, “he walked with a
bad limp and said he had
been injured once in a cave-
in years ago. That’s all I can
remember, though.”

Lucot smiled broadly.
“You evidently saw more
than you thought at first,”
he said. “That is much better
than the average description.
But tell me: Can you recall _
his approximate weight and
height? And did you by any
chance notice the license
plates on that Lincoln?
Think hard and remember
that this is a murder case.”

O NCE more the garage

keeper pondered deeply.
It was apparent that he was
making a great effort to re-
call the scene. At length he
spoke again.

“He was pretty tall,” he declared.
“Probably about five feet nine or ten
inches and I would say he weighed in the
neighborhood of one hundred and forty
pounds. And now, since ‘you brought it
back to my mind, I remember that they
had California dealers’ license plates on
that Lincoln.”

Lucot was delighted with the man’s
ability to remember what he had seen,
and thanked him heartily. Then the two
officers went back to the sheriff’s office,
where Lucot prepared a telegram which
he sent out to all sheriffs and chiefs of
police. This message contained a descrip-
tion of the wanted man as well as the in-
formation regarding the automobile.

46

-

The sheriff turned to Podesta. “This
car either belonged to a dealer or the
plates were stolen. Now the question is
this: If the machine belongs to a dealer,
who is the murderer—the dealer or the
passenger? From what that garageman
said, our theory was right about the men
being friends. But if the dealer or his
agent was the victim, the killer probably
stole the Lincoln. Then I wonder why
it hasn’t been reported as stolen?”

He sighed heavily and leaning back in
his chair-he closed his eyes. He remained
in this position so long that Podesta be-
gan to think that he was dozing. But sud-
denly the sheriff sat bolt upright in his
chair, “Those shoes,” he exclaimed,

“they came from Stockton and there is a
good chance that the car did too. I’m
going there and in the meantime you keep
your eyes and ears open.”

Lucot realized that there was little if
any chance to trace the buyers of either
of the shoes but when. he reached Stock-
ton he consulted a‘ telephone directory
and obtained the address of the two shoe
stores.

As he had expected, both dealers shook
their heads at his query but it had been
more to satisfy his mind that he had
made the investigation, and so he was not
disappointed. Now he again looked in
the telephone book and listed the dealers
who sold Lincoln automobiles in and

DARING

around Stockton.
quainted with the
ing to one of the
“Tam certain th
has been in that
dealer stated at «
to another garage
startling fact.
“Yes, I do have
gether with the sa
this informant «
haven’t notified
trusted the salesm
left here on the t!
and I have hear:
since then. He w
deal) worked up t

DETECTIVE


re en

74
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Master Detective

indeed abandoned his intention of suicide
and was dodging from place to place to
avoid the law.

Our circulars were still alive more than
a_year after the murder of the sorceress.
The Grand Jury warrant, charging Shaver
with first-degree murder, was still in force
when | was asked by a writer to supply a

icture of the man for Master DETECTIVE

agazine.

Where our circulars had not penetrated,
I reasoned, this valuable magazine may go
and carry our message of a wanted man
to more thousands of readers than | could
ever hope to reach. | supplied the picture
readily and had the satisfaction of seeing
it printed in the magazine.

ON February 13th, 1936, the idea bore
fruit. Holmes Byor, a youthful tran-
sient appeared at Police Headquarters in
Seattle, Washington, with_a thumbed and
stained copy of. Master Detective Maga-
zine in his hands, He pointed to the pic-
ture of Shaver in the Line-Up department
of the magazine, and told a desk sergeant:
“I rode the rods into Seattle with that
guy. He’s in here now.”

etective Lieutenants C. V. Dailey and

. Zuarri accompanied the youthful hobo
from, the police department building and
out into the Seattle streets, In a hobo
camp near the railroad yards they en-
countered our ‘Oakland murderer. Louis
Shaver was jailed in Seattle. The $100
reward offered by Master Detective for
his capture, was paid to Byor, the amateur
sleuth,

With Inspector .Lew Jewell of the
homicide detail I arrived “in Seattle on
February 22nd, 1936. Between handsome,
athletic Lew Jewell and myself, Shaver
started the journey back.to Oakland with-
out having uttered a single word.

We were seated in the train; the short
statured, florid-faced murder: suspect was
beside me in. the seat.-.Suddenly he
blurted out: “I: suppose: you. know and. I
might just: as well confess. ‘I. killed her.
But she made a pass at me first.”

My fellow officer smiled encouragingly
and took pencil: and paper from _ his
pocket. For the greater part of the jour-
ney to Oakland, Louis Shaver talked. He
told of the fight in the apartment that
morning. “I accused her, of having to do
with that: Foley,” he said:~“She denied it.
But I knew what she’d been up to. We'd
had these troubles before. | intended to
kill myself but | changed my mind after—
after it happened to her.”

_ His story dovetailed with our own find-
ings at the murder scene. He told of the
mad attack he had made upon her with
the butcher knife as she sprawled on the
bed and of his final act when he dealt the
blow with the piece of pipe, when she was

already dying from the dozen knife
thrusts. ;

“And then | skipped,” he said, while
Jewell copied every word. “I went to
‘Frisco and then bummed up to Portland,
Oregon. Then | hitch-hiked back into
California and went to Arizona and
worked on Boulder Dam. | went to Colo-
rado and Wyoming and then into Wash-
ington. | used the name Stanley Faust all
the way. But | was hounded and hunted
because that picture of me was in the
magazine. I couldn’t stay long in one

lace. All I could do was move on and

eep moving.”

A haunted, haggard man he looked in-
deed as | studied his florid face and blood-
shot eyes. What price he had already paid
for the curse he placed upon the crystal
gazer, and for the murderous assault, only
he would ever know.

He repudiated his confession after he
had spent a few days in the Oakland city
jail. But on Thursday morning, March
5th, his story was admitted into the evi-
dence of his preliminary hearing by Police

udge Chris Fox in the Oakland court.
he hearing dragged through the day. |
testified to our preliminary investigation
after the finding of the body. And | told
the full story of Shaver’s confession and
saw it entered in the records.

Shaver was held to the Alameda County
superior court. The one-day trial added
a unique chapter to police annals for
brevity. On April 22nd, a jury which de-
liberated three hours found Louis Shaver
guilty of murder in the first degree, with
no recommendation, and condemned him
to be hanged by the neck until dead.
Sentence was pronounced by dudee Frank
M. Ogden on April 27th. Grim justice
once more balanced the scales.

MEANWHILE, a chubby little blonde
girl with somber, too wise eyes, pores
over a deck of cards in a private Oakland
residence. Her new guardians do not try
too hard to break little Frances Shaver of
this odd practise.

“She'll drop it gradually,” they say con-
fidentially. “Kindness will erase that ter-
rible'memory and change her habits.”

But’ the child stares at the ace of spades
and murmurs, “Tragedy is there, and
death. I see it in the cards.”

. * * *

Note: In accordance with our policy of
protecting private citizens who cause the
arrest of fugitives through identification
of their photographs in our Line-Up, we
have withheld the real name of the inform-
ant in this case and substituted the ficti-
tious name of Holmes Byor. The name
Foley is also fictitious, for obvious reasons.

Murder at Honeymoon House
(Continued from page 29)

: that line in our questioning. Interesting

information was soon brought to light.
We learned that the house at 426 North

‘ Alabama Street, whence Mrs. Lackey and
‘Chapman had gone'so blissfully, had been

owned by Mrs. Lackey. It was there she
had made. her home, together with her son
and his wife, and.a few paying guests. |

It seemed strange, remembering this
fact, that Gordon Harris had-not notified

authorities of her unusual absence. Why.

had he not instigated an earlier search, or
gone out to the Carson Avenue place be-

‘fore Wednesday evening? We reasoned
, that most relatives in’ similar cases,” es-
i pecially sons and daughters of the missing

ones, would. have enlisted aid in locating

them long before Harris became alarmed.
Gordon bi pon that he would have
been more alarmed about the prolonged
absence of his mother, had not both he
and his wife been employed. Early each
morning they set out for the department
store where they worked, returning home
every evening to prepare their dinner. Con-
sequently, unless Mrs. Lackey had some
page message for them and dropped into
the department store during the day, they
seldom saw her except in the evening.
There naturally arose the question of
the exact time Mrs. Lackey and ‘Chapman
had ‘started for. their new country home.
During preliminary ‘questioning, ‘Gordon
Harris had told the officers that his

ee

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“Louis got lost again, did he?” the man said laughing
“He’s the Shaver kid. Lives here with his folks but no-
body’s home in their apartment right now. I’ll keep him
till his mother gets back.”
Danielson thanked him and started away. He made a note
or two in his book and turned back on his beat. But he did
not know that the kindly stranger had opened the door
to one of the most ghastly mysteries of death that
ever shocked the Pacific Coast. Nor did he even
dream of the startling episodes that were to fol-
low his walk through the park that windy
night. All that was to unfold itself later.
Still the sensational sequel might not
have come so soon had not an Oakland
police reporter spied Danielson’s lost boy
report in the files next morning and
“risen” to the possibilities of a good
“human interest story.”

“Kid about four got lost last
night,” he told his city editor over
the telephone. “Cop found his ad-

dress pinned to his coat. Might

be a good yarn at that—with a

picture of the little guy. Why

don’t you send a sob sister over
—it’s 2326 Telegraph.”

A few minutes later Ed

Rogers, vet-

VICTIM
Vivacious Lillian Shaver with re-
markable psychic powers told
| . fortunes, but could not fore-stall
H her own terrible doom.


SHAVER, Louis R., wh, hanged CA (Alaméda) January 15, 1937

win sciinadinti cant il Rae amma

HACKED

by
INSPECTOR JAMES GOODNIGHT

OF THE OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
POLICE DEPARTMENT
As Told to

EUGENE B. BLOCK

N THE DUSK TREES cast their eerie

shadows about the little park at

Seventh and Jackson Streets in Oak-
land, California. A sharp west-wind
had driven belated stragglers out for
shelter. The square seemed deserted.
It was September 11, 1934.

Outside the plaza, Policeman
N. C. Danielson rubbed his
chilled hands together and looked
in at the lawns and shrubs. The
park was on his beat. Often he
traversed it at this time of even-
ing.

For a few moments he
glanced at the empty benches,
then started briskly over the
graveled path. Half-way
through he stopped short. In
the shadows, he saw a small
figure darting out from behind
a bush.

As Danielson hurried along a
little boy came toward him.

“A lost kid, I guess,” he said to
himself, “or a runaway—perhaps.”
The child, no more than four, broke
into a run.

“What’s your name, felleh?” the of-
ficer inquired.

“Louis,” sobbed the boy.

“Louis—what ?” asked the man in uni-
| form.

‘ “Louis,” came the reply.

BF Danielson took the lad’s chubby hand in

4 his own and started for the street.

‘ They reached the lighted thoroughfare before the

m! patrolman noticed a small square of paper pinned to the
youngster’s coat. He pulled it off and curiously scanned

’ these penciled lines:

“This boy lives at 2326 Telegraph Avenue.”

“Huh,” said the big man to his tiny charge. ‘So they turn
you loose to play and take precautions in case you’re lost.
Cheer up, we'll be home in a jiffy.”

Together they walked in silence the few blocks to the SHOCKING FIND
address on the paper. Danielson rang the bell of the little Inspector Edward =Som-
two-story home and got no answer. He rang again. This pats. gelgts te Maal cone

' : : : eae where a woman was rudely i abl |
time a man with a friendly smile opened an adjoining door. trussed up,

' , | ow

Sf


. TT ra = Sa

September, 1936

The scrawled postscript to the “‘sui-

cide’ note that caused officials to

wonder if they were faced with a
two-fold tragedy

any time yesterday between morning
and, say, mid-afternoon. If it is so im-
portant | might—”

“Thanks,” | interrupted him. “Iden-
tity is certain, | suppose? | have already
formed a theory and I don't believe that
the time element is going to be as im-
portant as | thought.”

“Identification absolutely certain,” the
doctor replied. “Coroner has been at
work on it for.an hour or more. Several

ersons have seen her. One chap named

ee in particular.”

So the apartment house manager had
placed himself officially into the case by
making a positive identification of the
corpse at the morgue.

i was late that afternoon when Inspec-
tors Summers and Evans came in with,
their reports of the day’s efforts to piece
together the loose ends of the seeress
murder.

“This chap, Foley,” Inspector Evans
said. “We've checked him and can get
him tonight but—” ?

“You think the husband is the felldw
we want,” | interjected quickly. “But if
the suicide note meant what it said, we
may be looking for a dead man.”

“We're convinced,” Summers _ said,
“that’s why we did not go further on that
list of her clients.”

They explained in detail how they had
reached the conclusion that the husband
alone could be the guilty man. From the
scraps of half-burned cloth taken from
the stove, carefully examined by Lee, the
apartment manager, they had _ satisfied
themselves that the destroyed garment
was a pair of gray trousers similar in pat-
tern to those which the fortune teller’s
husband was known to have worn.

“We checked that arrest mentioned in
the suicide note,” Evans explained. “The
husband was in jail August 6th for battery
—a charge filed by his wife. He was finger-
printed then— ”

“The crystal ball?” | suggested quickly.

“Not a print.” Summers supplied this
detail. “Not a print from that or the
knife. The knife was what we expected to
clinch our facts with, but the Identifica-
tion Bureau didn’t find a print.”

The case -seemed clear enough that
night. Louis Shaver must have killed his
wife after the children went to school.
Lis blind, mad attack ended, he had
stuffed her body into the cubby-hole and
nailed up the door. Then he had taken the
little boy, Louis, with him and abandoned
him near the city park with a note pinned
to his clothing. oa

I confess that only the suicide note pre-
vented me accepting that obvious theory
without question. The note from the
boy's clothing had disappeared. The
apartment house manager might be able
to find it again, but the hope was slight.
With it for handwriting comparison,
felt that we would not be closing a half
completed case by starting a search for
the husband of the seeress.

But the man was missing. He had been
gone for twenty-four hours, and whether
he was innocent of this crime or was lying
in some hidden spot, a suicide, we must
find him.

That night, before I closed the files on

ad

Master Detective
the. murder of the sorceress of Telegraph
Avenue, for the day, I ordered the usual
“wanted” circulars printed for Louis
Shaver. The request on those first circu-
lars read, “Wanted for questioning.”

It was almost a month later, after we
had investigated every friend and client
of the dead woman, that I asked that the
wording on the circular be changed to
read: “Wanted for wife murder, Louis
Shaver.”

For, in all the clientele of the sorceress,
we had found no one who could not fur-
nish a perfect alibi for the seven or eight
hours of the children’s absence, during
which the crime must have been com-
mitted. The suicide note alone remained
the single puzzle in the case. After we had
followed one blind alley, only to return
and enter another, | answered this to my
own satisfaction.

Shaver had first intended just what he
had written in the note. Blind with
jealousy because of his wife’s real or fan-
cied attraction for the man, Foley, and
others of her fortune telling clients, he
had brooded over his suicide plan to the
point of writing the note. But, as he
worded his note, he had revealed the des-
perate hatred which had been born of
wild jealousy. His intent was to injure, to
blast and hurt ma before he took his
own life. And thus he had awakened on
that fatal morning to attack his wife with
iron pipe and knife until she lay lifeless
across the bed.

And then what? Had Shaver committed
suicide? I thought not as I asked that
this second batch of “wanted” forms be
circulated. I felt certain that Louis Shaver
lived. Coroner Grant D. Miller of Ala-
meda County, agreed with me.

“T’ll postpone the inquest,” Coroner
Miller said, “until we find Shaver and let
him tell his tale.”

And so we searched on and on through
days and weeks, for a man who was fifty
years old and five feet, five inches tall;
who weighed 154 pounds, had blue eyes
and light brown hair and a florid com-
plexion. San Francisco, Alameda, every
city police department in the Bay area re-
ceived the “wanted” request and aided in
our search. Six weeks slipped by and |
told Coroner Miller | intended placing my
facts before the Grand Jury and asking
for an indictment of Shaver for murder.

AND then little Louis, the four-year-old
tot who had been so absorbed in his
play when | had visited him at the nur-
sery, talked again. A nurse had been bath-
ing him when the youngster suddenly
murmured: “He hit her, I saw him. Then
he stabbed her with a knife.”

“Don’t think of it, dear,” the nurse tried
to steer the childish mind away from con-
templation of a terrible, harmful. memory.

“But Dada did it,” cried the little chap.
“T saw him.”

The story was relayed to me by the
juvenile authorities whose wards the
Shaver children had become, through a
court order granted a few days after the
tragedy. | marked the words carefully.
Brooding over the awful sight he’d seen,
little Louis Shaver had at last blurted out
the story in a childish effort to explain to
himself his pretty mother’s continued ab-
sence.

In the weeks that followed we received
reports that Shaver had been seen in
Santa Rosa, California, and a search for
him was started there. Again, in Decem-
ber, we thought we had traced him to a
bus depot at Fifth and Mission Streets in
San Francisco. He became a will o’ the
wisp in the frequent reports of his appear-
ances which we investigated in the Bay
area. Some of the reports were authentic
enough to convince me that Shaver had

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(alias E, E, Shattick) ("Daylight")

NAME ane PLACE — CITY OR COUNTY : DOE & MEANS

PSHORTRIDOE, William) °°. |"Rolsom (SMM Yuba) ~~. H, 5-2-1919
DOB ORAGE | "RACE OCCUPATION i Pi coy RESIDENCE : : fief GEN yes

Grek | Black | eepsg hae ed ae Ee EN TEN

ye

GRIME gp Me ee gy DA

Murder dS -gf-2978
BAVICTIM $ ‘ “oak ee
Policeman James Mock White

- MOTIVE
bub eT

RACE METHOD

Resisting arrest nae

SYNOPSIS spbaveiiies sae ee ’ : i
"Mock shot and mortally wounded by black whom he sought to arrest, only to have revolver
Pert tr reeteervrh Raita

=] ay vera y 4 O =). Ba Gd a 'e <
ered some 75 yards from scene and sank to earth at Western Pacific Railroad Station at Marysville

on - = - =

ge

¢ GVA = O tee LIOW

_to be armed with Mock's revolver and plenty of ammunition, Suspect known in Marysville as E, E, —
Shattick because of re i
hands of antagonist, one bullet péercing left thorax, coursed through both lungs and emerged from
right side, Suffering intense, agony and blood rapidly flowing he managed 'to regain consciousness
and reach railroad station, There requested water and wen brought to him he was too weak to ~~~
Grink, Mock related details of shooting to his brother, former city Councilman John W, Mock, ©

“| “Saying: He entered brush alongside the Feather River, west of the Municipal Baseball Park, er
separating from other officers, He found Shattick hiding in brush and ordered him to come to an

ss = oth r) tS gro aid, 0 arta 5 Ee (omme)d > Lp BnisuBa, "OG K
drew revolver, only to have black grasp it w both hands and succeed in wresting from him, He

The incidents leading up to the shooting were as follows: Mock was relieving Night Sergeant Steve
Houser Shor alte o! OCK on morning o o he an ered a 2 om Dawson House and D ne
a negro who had registered that day as E, E, Shattick had returned to_the place after the saloons
closed, accompanied by Joe Martini, a Mexican, “Shattick wanted a room with two beds, but the.
Mexican objected to sharing his room, Shattick, according to Mrs, Bert Wicks, wife of the landlord,

and Florence Barros, a roomer, followed Martini to the end of the hall and felled him with a blow,

Ss =|) using brass knuckles. Martini claimes he was robbed of $15 in paper money. Policemen Richard

‘ Barrett and William Burke summoned from newspaper office by Mock and the o

mole O 0 OW x $4 34 = : e :
different directions, Mock arrested the n taking mo

BEE, 5=7-191

-wo—bLlows—on-face—wht + —st ots d Lot-ton:—fir ; 5
dressed roughly in dark ‘suit of clot d wearing a’grey, checkered cap, CRAMENTO
Mock s ge rr} ; rLumas —D
Woodward, former employee of Curry and Jerry Sheehan of Marysville and Colusa, formerly of Vallejo,
They tracked Shortridge to the center of a grain field, about one-half mile south of ftlgerdon_
Station on the line of the Northern Electric Railroad and about 12 miles south of Marysville. —
They will divide a reward of $100. ‘when\locked up as prison, he gave his name as Ben Shortridge,
said he was from North Carolina dnd occupation laborer, He was at one recognized as "Daylight" ©
and as a fo loyee on an extra Southern Pacific secfiion g )
Sincaae . :

1a OWED @ age" s a ar a 0
they were traversing in automobile,

G G

it, I'm sorry," At time of

SACRAMENT BEE, May 8, 1918 9

APPEALS

LAST WORDS

EXECUTION


or the

aso

nmers

. RueMeNAUZNZNARSASN

Seber at bert)

HILMLALMSKERS

=
—

Ma NEW SNENTHESWEMTULUSNERLNSHENTUSHAKS HEUNENSHCMENENEH ENN

IRNERALNSNHSRRNSNSNEWS

a8
-

eae a ae

stile abate ms 2 ie

pete So mE

CATY2S
\ as

FECTION
ane

HUSBAND CAUGHT

i
WITH KNIFE MURD

Arrested by San Bernardino po-
lice yesterday as he was attempt-
ing to leave the city, William
Shaw, 34-year-old Negro war
worker, calmiy confessed early. to-
day, a.carding to District Attorney
Jerome B. Kavanaugh, that he
stabbed his wife 54 times because
“I would rather see her dead tha
Jead the life she was living.”

The district attorney said tha

aie wie aly Sass esas

Shaw made a complete confession
of the fatal stabbing when he was.
taken to the Mark B. Shaw mortu-
ary to see the body of his wife
Pecola Shaw, 27. ;
TELLS OF STABBING

Shaw was quoted by District
‘Attorney Kavanaugh and Police
Officers Lee I. Robb, V. E. Me-
Bride and Carl Russell as saying
that he appeared at the home of
his estranged wife of 215 South
Stoddard street early yesterday
and “stabbed her until my arms
just gave out.”

Coroner R. E. Williams said
$4 distinct knife wounds were
found on Mrs. Shaw’s body. She
was found in a weed-covercd lot
just nmorth of her home a short

suse MOTUS act

FAAP IA
HAKUED

time after the knifing. Still con-
scious, she died a few minutes aft-
er police said she identified the
assailant as her husband.

A murder co.apiaint, signed by
Garland Hardage, owner of the
home in which Mrs. Shaw resided,
has already been filed against
Shaw. ’

PLANS SLAYING

Police Officers Herman Aarup
and Russell arrested Shaw at 2:20
a.m. The officers were on another
investigation at Kingman and I
streets, when Officer Aarup saw
Shaw waik by and immediately
recognized him as the suspect in
the slaying. He was taken into
custody and lodged in the county
jail.

The officers said that Shaw, in a
detailed confession before a court
reporter, told them he made up his
mind last Sunday night to Kill his
wife “because I would rather see
her dead than lead the life she ‘as
living.”

Shaw claimed to be a civilian
employe of the air depot. He fur:

merly resided in Yermo where he |
held another defense job.

William, black, 35, asphyx. C,lif. (San B,rnardino) 6=16=19))))

ities. .

7
é
J

Rd@t DES XZ AD

ne

The upper photo shows 70 soidiers with upra
thea other members of their units are drawn up
six of the new citizens from as many different ‘
Judge Charles L. Allison. From left to right ar
Chin Yen Fon, who was born in Chinpen statio
officer in the Chinese army to become # nape
of italy; Sgt. Theodore Shamalian, whe was Bet
Thomas McFarland, native of Scotland; Pvt. —_
Millikin is shown shaking hands and congraty'
nrneted earh of the 70 In similar manner. -


Creamery Firm
Observes 25th
Anniversary

T.R. Knudsen Recalls

Establishment of
Business in 1919

Completing 25 years of service}
to Southern Californians, T. Fj
Knudsen, president, yesterday, an-' 46%
nounced the twenty-fifth annivers-: 5
ary of the founding of the Knud-;
sen Creamery Co. 4 i
varying I in June, beep in Los!

oe Nir RONEN BoE

Tamer activities for the Young}
Men's “stian gssociation have
aibeen cutiined and the pregram is
J pan er way, according to Rus-
ical director j
tts : 2M maintained both for
aduits and youths from 8 to 17,
inder acspices of the physical de-

se} Rt. oh

lant bine, Thos

are day programa, in-:
aNimming, handball, sea-§
; and fym classes, Cink i
rooms in the assonation ould: #

ee a sa@zgit

on Pilln street are open aver

company has endeavored to Suna:
a business on the “good neighbor |«
policy.” Today there are more|**

HEADS cLuB — aiey Test,

except Sunday from 2 an)
“ay am GG vy oq ¥ ivy
who was elected president of the %84 2.90 9 pum. Nantiog
San Bernardino 20-30 club, 4aYSTOUN
ee

aif open hbk os
.

Oo NOON, +

2 8 to 17
‘itth. street t
and must

uke!
the |

3 v ica ur "

bership. t in order to use the physi-!

2 ‘ ad! ?
Li fo Head pat cal uepartment facilities, Mr. ro}
-30 Orga ; nz ation 'Kntg nt srad,

; {dae Ck, their
qe hip ecards with the Ro ; as, | at i
Flo Cupicar i! D ca ds with them. Boys | i°d ge u
ed Bei j i Ording part-time also are re-' 4 * ets
€hito oer ' hae ee : warts
pYuIPeG 1O NAVE A Lua. THENTIO to
H
:
1

} ha following schedule in thel os
Larry Test, who is employed atibov's ) depar:< at gym and swirai EF
the San Bernardino Army Alf} ciaasen te see n.tnined: Preps (8 to Moa
jeld, is the Repeat electvof the;32) and llam in
' es Twenty-Thirty club, and at the in-/s i a 15) @ }
"DIN PICTY 2E—Zera Zorina and George Haft, who ars stallation will succeed Robert C.! D m pt ae vise
t Sat, Wit THOR. PT

® story of the sntertainment world’s contributions to
iQ in seeess sm: os, ‘Follow the Boys,’ which opens
the Rifts —-<8F=>

Bennett in that office. folder bove (13 ‘

ey E (13. t6 17} 7 to 8 p m te if ¢
Others. elected at the business | sym, 3 to 9:36 other activities and; ,.
meeting held by the club Thurs-! ewimming. vino

Tra

day night at the California hotel /

iat ARS. oe Wty hes

Se ROYS’ ae | io
Vo Guys N T. R. KNUDSEN were Haven Blaylock, first vi a 1en’s gym classe
Ns ad Ipresident: Charles Bradley, second !5- 1, Monday, 1
Te 5 i PO fy jthan 538 men and women work Ing|Vice- “president, and ae tor Olivas, | f scheduled | p, ret
| ie ee at the Knudsen Creamery Co. inp in Alexander, Richard Sarg, |; .m. Tuesdays and ‘I rhurs-lshep

th L™ ive . wr ’
In Los Angeles, Santa Maria, Visalia; Wade Snell, Arthur Sullivan, days. Nandball courts pecial ex-|
30 famous 3tats are|manager, ~. sider Daniel. The pro-]. James Whittemore and Robert C.! . cridieg Xi
. San Bernardino, San Diego and! y na sobert C.iercisa rooms and the

ult department, busi-{/MVYes 4

are held at

nesday and years o

lei isco,

EF Rae aT tpaAbiea | ora” aldo att eee swimming hor
He ‘ee on Arar 8'6o: Will RGSS HS OSPO* i Venture |Bennett, directors. pool ars open every day, ‘excepti ner nO
ea Bo open to-! iemorial reel of screen : The club voted it ‘ticlpation ene ae kk Mr
nitaromont catie ead Many i rati ate: : = S$ participation Sunday, from % 4.m. rm
tad ana Oe TH Bs aN Ao ee eae |brought stout ty the pave eeoltn the: two "war bond drive shows) ‘The a summer endian alec —_
3 ‘fey theater fis - % “4 - sne@ § eer A | bs as
heater aro agh. a eect i a ' next week, and made plans 0 cludes boys igh and ns sott balla eet:
yed by | “he socond feature picture, “The | g ent of th company in Ihave. rep tativ the aluhial: Lae Ort DR Ta 7
2 . + : ioneer employ? any rel @ representatives at the club's jesoue, at % oventh atre i Mt ate} .
b Aocinma, who Scarlet Claw,” will ba shown to- iP neering employe-comp reia-' national convention in Glendale jv ee MM Sept eee ier of
;: } % j ~ ea | | Ye fe
Dp widev al matinee only and aft-itions. Knudsen employes have or- ie Wweelend. fy VOInON a b RMS. fonds sayz and W red-| ‘Swed
% NesiaAvs from 7°30 ah aoe
a er 1t on the all-night show, |S2nized their o own sick benefit as-|~ Ginets were Max Cruzen. of the! —_ akin ae tof 9:30 P.M. oe |
. Fields ft isa Sherlock Holmes adven- /5ociation, federal credit union and: Navel a former mentber. and Dan .tin § are the Cardi | ve :
i with ‘ture tale. -- jpublished their own employe mag- othy Cruzen St nan pe Stork C lub Ine., Sparton,!; ed
ava | * wb jazine, Among their nu uber are! pa ‘a os ns, Arrowhead FH-Y¥, Cour-} 2
teu" ee . : iImen who have given their gallon’ te ° ty Lian, oT norle noe ;
es, tigeg oy : 7 b etien. thelr § Serving—a ts ! rerlean. andi.)
wit aver tas iof blood to the Red Cross blood Poulin ocr Ing at . eee
ihe is J ikaw al ¢ ee . f on { }
se jbank, 120° nave joined the armed Overseas Air Ba Q a: rat arcana ae rare ‘-
oT sag t loforne ha ri ht - 9 . . -
» §- sa =m omg fy oy os orces to defend the American way! Cpl, Wilfrid Poulin. whose wits, “Vood-Rurnina nging. (3
age - Jite, and the treasury flag flies Robbie wage ithe Tiki Mths hin we
fr ™m tet! ask PF h “~ “ + i | re bn ay ¥".. ; \ *.
. ws ? tall white pole atop the Western avenue, rardino,| Wt2e0 TOF FFucK
. $e) J rit Aan 1P sant, nbs ing that more tian 10 is stationed in Eng gland as am ro FA ed
iii Se FM hee ER |p r cent of the payroll {s reguiar- her of the air oraft. she >‘ rastal sec. _ bid vs. June 16 UP |
‘y foing to the purchase of war'tion of a repair dep-: Corpora ; Sesstul oneraticn of a truck 4
tam Shaw. -95:'a Neo . ibe acct ae 4 ; L 2 . wrnoral 4 . #
um $ a Ky. 7 A ora, died: bon 7 » ¢ fant ‘Ament of these Poulin cho has ‘een in the vy t Ras manufac-
gan Guencin prison’s po i tes nas resultec » the term | pean w toa exght mon ths, ao PUPNINg -enyine f
r the , ign Of his | “the K nudsen fam?i} ar refer | se pa? d Mrs. R. I fo the North-
nardj nra i 4 to a if: ‘ % . a asdid Rr t iy eatin
Arar ence 38 made ‘oO a nee smploye, lof 3 Huron, S..D. and hefo re enter- : ii n council
2r or executive alive, me : ‘ 5 PN A 8 Oe NRA Ne OO NN PRC RA Ry
tt T i * < ‘ CrApIOY «DY a i
} Tow NM in annaunsine the ’ 3 it t=
in announcing the ast C ge ; actar?! :
oe 5a adh J is
y ravi] "4 on : :
An Oa H
stie forgot ’ 4 comfort. 3
ith be 48 Uneenacious of a ‘
DOCTOR TRUSS. us you §
~ wD i & well-fitting osir of -shocs. |
Come and ate for yourse:f baw wed
- to 4 : Pate iet? =
as <j FY
BELTS :
iX° 72 :
~ a9 oe t} 4 "
5 we Ro 4 i<j A
Hedianda H
ai — Fiairo . werthe
’ i r i ‘ + RS to NE
it rn ¥ ? x ’
~ Be , wee aati eh nteiaiatecinatliiaeataeeiitind os he + sage hn eenenrttor


‘al you have done.”
The contents of the note indicated, po- AMAZING T HIN Ly Cofec
id lice agreed, that Louis Shaver had intended :
d fu- to ving Mine rather than kil] Lillian, P 4 s
teals Having killed her, however, he had torn a
ihe up the note. Did ‘that mean he had not SENSATIONAL WEW TING a 1\ y
d her killed himself? CKEAM FOR | j
ll ac- What had Shaver meant by Saying, “You : d
after tried.to put me in Prison so you’ could FOOT MN A
have your lover with you?” Wallman ie
at for wanted to know, (ATHLETES F007)
mur- A hasty check with the police of Troy, we LPS
r fur- New York, brought the answer, and a re- REGULAR USE HE.
vealing insight into the character of the RELIEVE ITCHING «
dy in » beautiful fortuneteller,
eople Over a year before, jin Troy, Louis SOOTHES BURNING
phan te Shaver on several] Occasions had assaulted BETWEEN CRACKED PEELING
veople. his wife go Savagely that she had him ar. = fF,
m the rested. Each time she had forgiven him TOES alos HEALING
y with and dropped the charges. Although Shaver AMAZINGLY /
iterest had insisted that she was having affairs ae
1 Mrs. with other men they continued living to
it Lil- gether, Lillian knowing her husband’s vio-
-check lent disposition and certain that she her
vr her- Self would die violently but resigned to
acceptance by her faith in her Prophetic FIRST
mm that vision. When she came to California, she USED
cappell had too much pride to reveal these as.
er and Saults and the fear in which she lived, iN
ne and even to Mrs Kappell, who became such a HOSPITALS
A close friend,
show? Oakland police received from Troy po- Ow
nd ice photographs a fingerprint record, and RELEASED
“ag > eci- a’ complete description of Louis Shaver 70
He was 50 years old, 5 feet, 5 Inches tal]
have 154 pounds, with brown hair, blue eyes ORUEGEISTS bes as
he ked and a ruddy complexion. He was heavily @UARANTEEO
eer I tattooed on the chest and arms, and bore SVEN 1F (ROOUCTS .
a gp the name of his love, “Lillian” emblaz- 7/NG MUST WAVE FAULED TRY AMAZING ;
~ He Oned in blue Script on his right forearm SATISFY YOU IN TING CREAM TODAY’: m |
ner ing Even the Oakland laundry marks in his A WEEK-oR
ire tte clothes were included in the description Wee
aaa eat sent out by Chief Wallman to police offi- MONEY BACKS 1 MSO AVAILABLE IN THE NEW
sup va cials all over the country, uae: :
—< kind Police kept a sharp lookout on the waters
e would Pius? Francisco Bay and 4; the hills of The little man looked up without sur- to look unconcerned, and always feeling
blue sage back of Oakland, but as the Prise. “I knew you'd get me some day,” he that that cop’s hand would be on my shoul.
and weeks and months went by and there was said. “I’m glad it’s over at last.” der the next second,
ered ve race of him, authorities became — Shaver made a full confession and agreed “I was afraid to make friends. I worked
Lil- vinced that he f hide alive and play ‘7 to waive extradition. When Goodnight ar- at oaq jobs here and there, but always ]
y—which a canny game of hide and seek. 4 ; Tived the next day, Shaver told him that moved on after a little while, because |
—none of _ in officer in Santa Rosa, California, he never had intended to 80 out of town was afraid Somebody would put the fin-
flirtation. identified him from a circular as a man he to work on the day of the murder, but had ger on me,”
is pushed had seen recently, but was unable to lo- returned to the house after the older chil- Shaver expressed no interest in his chil-
, he had cate him again. Once he was identified by dren had gone to the movies, hoping to dren and continued to maintain that his
vapers by workmen on a railroad gang in Montana catch his wife in a compromising situation wife had been repeatedly unfaithful to him,
‘om him? ut again he had disappeared when Police with another man. although police found no evidence that she
the chil- went to look for him, “We had a quarrel,” he said, “but she had been anything more than indiscreet
Hundreds of Suspects were picked UP, was the one who started it. She was too When Shaver was brought to trial in Su-
ice could questioned and released Frances, Richard Popular with men She came at me with a Perior Court on April 21st, before Judge
here, was and little Louis were sent to a pleasant knife. I grabbed 4 Plece of iron pipe and Frank M Ogden, Public Defender Willard
gutter on foster home in the country, where they struck her with it. The knife dropped from Shea attempted to prove that he had mur-
iver’s SeC- could grow up in normal surroundings, the her hand. Then | lost my head, seized the dered his wife in the heat of anger and
been ex- two younger children unaware that their nife from the floor and Stabbed her with could not be guilty of anything more than
; in Louis father had murdered their mother, it.” voluntary manslaughter, But is previous
t the win- A year and a half passed, but Chief Wall- He said that he had taken little Louis assaults on his wife weighed against him
.s of white man and other Oakland Officers never gave to the Park, pinned the note on his jacket, and, after three hours’ deliberation, the
ires of the up hope that Shaver would be arrested and left him there, knowing he would be jury found him Zuilty of first-degree mur-
the ledge, The economic Situation had bettered returned. . der, with no recommendation for mercy
1 together. throughout the country, but there stil] Describing his wanderings, he said, “I His conviction was upheld by the state
t revealing were bread lines and soup kitchens for the went to Portland, Oregon, first Then to supreme court and Louis Shaver was
in the in- needy. These were often visited by fugi- Denver, Colorado, and after that into Mon- hanged at San Quentin on January 15th
subt about tives from Justice and others who couldn’t tana. I saw my picture in a detective maga- = 1937 His jealous nature had destroyed the
murderer. find steady work because they had no zine, got scared and came to Seattle, where lives of his wife and himself and had al.
social security card, and, also by police they caught me. most ruined those of three children, yet he
who were looking for such people, The line “I changed my name, changed my clothes never had committed a crime against any-
wrong. I near the National Guard Armory on First —but I couldn’t change my identity, I one else and Perhaps he would not have
with you, Avenue, Seattle, was visited regularly by was always Louis Shaver, wanted for wife killed her had she been less pretty, less
put me ith Detectives'C. y. Dailey and M. Zuarri, murder, Popular, or less indiscreet, 04
ret he On February 13th, 1936, the two detec- - “Everywhere I went I saw cops. They
SS ae ent tives were watching the listless parade of drove me almost crazy. I'd see one coming
urse ai” i men_ shuffling forward for their dole of toward me on the street and my first im- Eprror’s Nore:
‘ou wil and nourishment when Dailey nudged Zuarrj pulse was to duck. But I knew that would The names Russell Hancock, Peter
‘rough, lone and pointed to a ragged little man in a only arouse Suspicion so I’d walk on, trying Viroukis and Mrs. Kapell, as used in
uck haunt threadbare blue suit. They both knew at the foregoing story, are not the real
will Once that the search for Louis Shaver had names of the persons concerned. These T
come to an end. GIVE persons have been given fictitious names | 0
Pe atta, They stepped along cach side of him and Strike back at CANCER to protect their identities,
ildren away Dailey said quictly: “Come along, Shaver,”
‘to me and

them. May God Punish you for the wrong

ee ce


Ds AM ddd NF LN ll 9

BY M. G. BISHOP

HORT, stocky Jack Asch never

moved very fast. It wasn’t his

habit to hurry. His round, jovial

face never showed any excite-

ment. It wasn’t his nature to be

nervous. His heavy form and
broad smile moved up and down be-
hind the 8201 Bar, at 8201 Avalon
Boulevard, Los Angeles, and he kept
the customers supplied with drinks
and listened to their jokes. But it was
all in a day’s work.

Just before midnight on February
8, 1944, Bartender Asch relaxed
against the counter while he waited
for the last customers to finish their
drinks and leave. He didn’t hurry
them, nor himself. And the pleasant
expression of his round face didn’t
change when a silent figure swept
through the back door, and suddenly
shoved a gun across the bar.

“Jack, this is a stick-up,” the slen-
der young man announced.

Asch heard his words plainly, and
knew from the tones that the man
meant them. He saw the angry muzzle
of the revolver held steadily in the
bandit’s hand, and knew its owner
could—and would—use it well. But
Asch hardly moved. .

“I want the money!” the young man
demanded.

Slowly, Asch turned to the cash
register and picked up a bag of money,
most of the night’s receipts, and sat
it on the bar before the gunman.
Without saying a word, he turned
around again and opened the register.
His big hand was steady as he reached’
into the drawer for a sheaf of bills.
The customers at the bar did not know
what was happening. They paid no
attention until suddenly the bandit’s
gun roared, and Jack ‘Asch slumped
slowly to the floor.

In a flash the bandit swept the room
with his gun. “Everybody stay where
you are,” he commanded, “or you'll
get some of the same,”

None of the startled customers
moved. In the next instant, the gun-
man leaped around the corner of the
bar, taking the money bag with him.

Quickly he emptied the register, then -

.HOMICIDE——..

expert Det. Lieut. Lloyd J, Hurst
directed investigation into hold-ups.

s

GUILTY—THIS MAN WAS A MURDERER NN

oe,
j

ee ee


: . : : > : stooped and snatched the green bills

tr. = from Asch’s limp hand. In another

INNOCENT—VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES —— ‘oment’he had disappeared through

: : 2 5 the rear door.

gue. : =} William A. Barnes and Roy A. Scott,

: : two of the customers, recovered from

their.shock and ran to Asch. Bright

red blood oozed from a hole in his

back, but he was still breathing. “The
police!” Scott said, “T’ll call them.”

“Get the hospital first,’ Barnes
cried.

Sergeants A. A. Beach and A. R.
Long, 77th Street Station Radio Pa-
trol, were the first officers to reach
the scene. Behind them came the
screaming ambulance of the Georgia
Street Receiving Hospital. ‘He’s
alive,” the doctor announced, “but
that’s all I can say. We may have a
chance to save him.” In a matter of
minutes the ambulance was racing
away from 8201 Avalon Boulevard.

Witnesses at the bar gave varying
and sketchy bits of description of the
bandit-killer. None had seen him very
well in the dim light of the bar for
the brief moments of the crime. How-
ever, Beach and Long were able to
piece together a general dscription.
Witnesses believed he was about
twenty-five, possibly 5 feet and 10
‘inches tall, and weighed around 160
pounds. They thought he had dark

eyes, at least his hair and complexion : &

- Ny . Best t

were dark. He wore a dark hat and
trousers, and a black leather or cloth
jacket without a zipper.

As reports of the robbery-murder
flashed across the police department’s
radio, telephone, and teletype sys-
tems, dozen of radio cars were con-
centrated in the area. Every possible
person was stopped and: questioned,
and all-night cafes were searched.
But during the remainder of the night
not a single clue or suspect was found.

The next morning Captain Thad
Brown, Chief of the Central Homicide
Bureau, assigned the case to Detective
Lieutenant Lloyd J. Hurst. At the
same time Captain Jack Donohoe,
Chief of the Robbery Squad, assigned
Detective Sergeant George R. Stoner
to work with Hurst.

“This is probably the same monkey
who has been hitting bars around
town for the last few weeks,” Dono-

SECOND MURDER———
was investigated by Captain Tommy
Bryan, Hollenbeck Detective Bureau

31


32

Saws se gee rae

ret je 4
ahd e418 : Rees
UNE RIES

“Jack =Asol was murdered at “above %
address when he turned his back, »

hoe told them. “We’ve got nothing on
him, but we’ve got to get him as fast
as possible.”

“We certainly do,’ Brown agreed.
“He’s plenty dangerous. He apparent-

.ly killed Asch for no other reason.

than he wanted to kill him.”

CAREFUL search of the scene of

the crime by Hurst and Stoner re-

vealed nothing. The gunman had
left no clues. And an interview with
the various witnesses was just as dis-
appointing. Snatches of description
from ‘this one and a bit from that
one. Some felt they would know him
if they ever saw him again; others
were not sure whether they could
identify him or not. :

At the Queen of Angels Hospital,
where Asch had been transferred
after emergency treatment, the of-
ficers were told that there was little
hope for the victim. An operation
had removed a battered .38 caliber
slug from his spine, But he had never
regained. consciousness and the doc-
tors could only hope.

“That’s our only clue,” Hurst said
as he held the slug in the palm of his
hand. “It’s pretty smashed-up, and
the Crime Lab may not even be able
to tie it to the gun which fired it.”

“Tf we can find the gun,”: Stoner
said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, if we only can,” Hurst re-
plied slowly.

spn uss i he A iy

#

A few hours later Nurse O’Dwyer,
who was attending Asch, called the
Homicide Bureau to report that Asch
had‘ just died. He had never regained
consciousness, and if Asch knew who
the bandit was who had. called him
“Jack,” he was never able to tell.

Several days of intensive investiga-
tions, led by Hurst and Stoner, failed
to produce a single lead. However
their work did produce one definite
conclusion. The killer of Jack Asch
was, undoubtedly the same bandit
who" had robbed and terrorized a
score of cafes and bars throughout
the Los Angeles area. And Ballistic
Expert Russell Camp, of the Crime
Lab, had been able to establish one
significant fact from his study of the
slug from the body of Asch.

“This bullet is a reload,” he told
the officers. “It is not a factory-
loaded one. So, I’d say your man loads
his own ammunition.”

“And then uses it freely,” Hurst
commented grimly.

On January 26, 1944, a little more
than a week before the Asch murder,
a young man had sat fora couple of
hours at a bar on Western Avenue.
He attracted no attention as he drank

vicTiM——— ;
Joseph Martinez, left, and his wife
are shown at their bar before crime.

one scotch and soda after the other.

Then suddenly he had slid off his
stool, drawn a gun and announced,
“This is a stick-up! Don’t anybody
move or I’ll blast you.” .

A young Coast Guardsman, think-

ing it was only a part of the nightly |

entertainment, laughed loudly. The.
laugh froze in his throat as the gun
in the bandit’s hand flashed twice.
Qne bullet crashed through the pol-
ished surface of the bar, and the other
struck the uniformed man’s foot. The
slugs came from apparently the same
gun which later took Asch’s life.
While dozens of detectives from
both the Homicide Bureau and the
Robbery Squad worked des erately
for a lead, the bandit’ struck again
and again. On the night of March 22
he spent more than an hour drinking
scotch and soda at Fletcher Marsh’s
bar at 4900 West Adams Boulevard.
Then he drew his gun and emptied
the till, taking along Marsh’s driver’s
license and other personal papers.
Less than an hour after robbing
Marsh he held-up a cafe operated by

Mrs. Wes Eichen. His routine was the

same. He ee scotch and soda, and
then robbed.

Despite every effort of the police,
the bandit-killer continued to operate.
He struck suddenly and mercilessly.
He appeared from the innocent look-
ing customers at a bar, robbed, then
disappeared quickly into the night.
One moment he was a mild-talking
customer sipping a highball, and in
the next he was a ruthless robber
ready to kill, if anything crossed him.

There was no doubt in the minds of
the officers that they were after_an
experienced, seasoned criminal. The
bold manner in which he operated,
the precision of his timing, the cer-
tainty of his acts all indicated that he


DIgry pNnor) ews IANS BULLQe ly

wel

882

so, then the punishment upon a plea of guilty
must always be something less than the

greatest allowed by law, for the defendant |

hopes for less,

was sulilicient

in pleading guilty, always
and, if his) disnppointment

to give the right to withdraw the plea, it |
would in such a ease always be withdrawn. |

It was not until the court had declared that
the penalty would be death, and after a sub-
sequent delay of six days, that the defendant
applied to withdraw and change his plea.
There was no contention to the effect that
there was any serious doubt as to the defend-
ant’s guilt, or that evidence could be produc-
ed which would tend to prove that the offense
was anything less than murder of the first
degree, or even to mitigate its atrocity and
lay the foundation for a verdict of im-
prisonment for life, except the claim that
the defendant was insane and that prior to
his departure from Petaluma, 10 months be-
fore the time of sentence, he had borne a
good reputation for honesty, integrity, and
good behavior. The evidence of his insanity
was very slight, but nevertheless the court
appointed three physicians to examine him
in that respect, and they unanimously pro-
nounced him sane. His previous good char-
acter might have some bearing on the fact
of his participation in the crime, if that were
in doubt, but there is no pretense that he did
not aid and assist therein with deliberation
and previous knowledge of the character of
assault which was to be made. A cold-blood-
ed, cruel, and deliberate murder is not ren-
dered any the less atrocious by the fact that
the person committing it was previously of
good reputation.

Section 1018 of the Penal Code provides
that the court may at any time before judg-
ment permit the withdrawal of a plea of
guilty and a substitution of a plea of not
guilty. It is a matter within the sound dis-
cretion of the court, and its action must be
upheld unless an abuse of discretion is shown.

The following remarks of the court in People |
v. Miller. 114 Cal. 16, 45 Pac. 987, are partic- |
“The mere fact that |

ularly applicable here:
a defendant, knowing his rights and the con-
sequences of his act, hoped or believed, or
was led by his counsel to hope or believe,

that he would receive a shorter sentence or |

a milder punishment by pleading guilty than

and conviction by jury, presents no ground
for the exercise of this liberal discretion,
People v. Lennox, 67 Cal. 113, 7 Pac. 260.
To hold that it did would be equivalent to say-
ing that a defendant might speculate upon
the supposed clemency of a judge, with the
right to retract if, at any time before sen-
tence, he began to think that his expectation
would not be realized. * * * Only after

it is made manifest that defendant is to suf-
fer the extreme penalty, and that no further
delay will be permitted, do counsel produce
the affidavit, itself made upon the day of
the hearing, but not offered until that mo-

95 PACIFIC REPORTER,

(Cal.

ment, and asked to be allowed to retrace al]
these steps thus advisedly taken. What con-
clusion can be reached except the one that, be-
euse the court was about to prenounce sen-
tence of death, defendant and his counse],
knowing that he could not fare worse at the
hands of a jury, and might fare better, sought
an opportunity to essay the other chance.”
If we could perceive anything in the evidence
which would have called for a lesser punish-
ment than that the trial court was about to
impose, some reason might appear why de.
defendant should have been permitted to
withdraw his plea and put his fate before
a jury. No showing of this kind is made.
The record not only fails to show an abuse
of discretion, but, to the contrary, from first
to last makes manifest that the trial judge,
placed in an unusual and trying position,
conducted all of the proceedings with a just
and even solicitous regard for the defendant’s
rights, and ruled as alone it was permissible
for him to rule under the facts before him.
The defendant's acts indicate that he is not
so dangerous or vicious as his codefendant
Siemsen. His voluntary confession seems
to have been full and frank. These facts
might have aroused in the mind of the court
some degree of sympathy for him, and per-
haps, if a jury had considered the case, such

| Sympathy might have been sufficiently potent

to have saved him from the death penalty.
But the comparison with his partner in crime
does not establish the fact that his own acts
were not sufficiently atrocious to deserve the
severest penalty, but only to show that there
were degrees of viciousness to which his dis-
position and capacity did not carry him. His
voluntary confession does not lessen or soft-
en the character of his crime. But, whatever
its effect may be, it was addressed to the dis-
cretion of the court below, and it is not of suf-
ficient weight to control our action to such
an extent as to justify us in declaring that
that discretion was abused. The responsibil-
ity in such matters rests upon the superior
court. This court has no function to perform
regarding it, except to see that the discretion
ot that court is not unreasonably exercised.
As a matter of law the action of the superior
court is justitied by the facts. If an appeal
is to be made to sympathy and sentiment,

_ it can only be done on an application for
that which would fall to his lot after trial |

clemency and mercy addressed to the execu-
tive department of the state.
The judgment and order are affirmed.

We concur: BEATTY. C. J.; ANGELLOT-
TI, J.; SLOSS, J.; LORIGAN, J.; HEN-
SHAW, J.

153 Cal. 451
COREA v. HIGUERA et ux. (S. F. 4,674).
(Supreme Court of California. April 29, 1908.)

1. EASEMENTS—WaAyYS OF NECESSITY—REQUI-
SITES.

No right. of way over another's land exists

as a way of necessity where claimant’s land is


DETECTIVE CASES MAGAZINE,
Pape

Police official tries cap on suspect for size. It had been left at murder site,

- wena THE SEVERED FINGER IN THE COOKIE JAR (em

a

*% ASK ANY native San Franciscan about the fog and
he will tell you it is the source of all things good, from
routing the common cold to foiling invasions. Since the
people of the California city take this for granted, it is
not strange that this misty guardian of the public welfare
should pause in. its eternal rounds to lay a moist hand
upon the perpetrator of a crime.

Had there been no fog on that 18th day of February,
the heinous slaying of Albina Chabot might well have gone
unpunished. But there was a fog, of unusual intensity, and
because of it, the assassin was brought to book.

Albina had closed her little sweet shop at Forty-eighth
Avenue at eight P.M., as was her daily custom. Her business
waS a modest one, but she managed it carefully and was, at
the age of 65, her own boss and sole support.

Counting her receipts on this night, she had exactly
$33.42. The $3.42 she left in the small, white cash register.
The residue, in bills, she marked and bound with a rubber
band, placed them in a cigar box and carefully put the box
30

September, 1969.

35

“ceheratateD

away in a large carton filled with similar boxes which she
kept in a side room.

As she returned to the store, she heard an insistent rap-
ping at the front door. Drawing aside the blind, she saw a
coarse, young face from which cold, blue eyes peered
anxiously through the glass; a heavy hand wiped away the
glittering spangles of fog. :

After one hurried glance, Albina smiled knowingly and
unlocked the door. : :

“You’re always late .. . you and your sweet tooth,” she
chided the hulking youth as he stepped in out of the chill
night. “Chocolate cookies again, I’ll bet a pretty.”

“I’m sorry, Albina,” the youth said, “but I worked late
and missed my supper. Maybe I can bribe Ma with some
cakes,”

“Don’t try to fool Albina,” the little shopkeeper said
gaily. “I know who’s got the sweet tooth in your family.”

The youth followed her to ‘a row of square cookie tins
neatly ranged on a counter. She lifted the metal lid of one
and began counting a dozen chocolate cakes into a paper
bag. Intent on her counting, she did not see her customer

Surly suspect had no respect for girls.

stealthily withdraw a cay club from beneath his raincoat.

It struck with fearful force above her left temple. She
crumpled, whimpering piteously. As she fell, her right hand
grasped the sharp upper edge of the open cookie tin.

A second blow fell and, glancing off her head, crashed
down on the metal lid with such force as to sever the first
joint of Albina’s middle finger, so that the bleeding seg-
ment dropped into the tin.

Albina was delicately molded, but she had a fighting
heart. As the assailant stared at her, bewildered, she strug-
gled to her feet and ran toward a door that led to her living
quarters, half a stair flight above the sweet shop.

“Wait, Albina,” the villainous youth shouted excitedly.
“Give me your money and I won’t hurt you any more.”

Albina lurched up. the stairs with the assassin pursuing.
Again he struck her. She slumped, but grasped the stair
rail to pull herself back to her feet. The bludgeon rose and
fell, again and again, until she sank, bleeding and silent, to
the s.uirs and rolled down to the floor below.

The youth lifted her in his arms, then, and carried her
up the stairs to her sitting room. There he placed her in a
rocking chair. Her head slumped forward onto her thin
breast, her eyes closed and her mutilated hand hung limp
over the chair arm.

The murderer raced down the stairs to return with two
lengths of light rope, and bound his victim, hand and foot.
He pried the eyes open, searching for a sign of life, but
found none. Then he tore downstairs again, this time re-
turning with a kerosene container. He poured the kerosene
over her thin body and onto the rug. Then he returned
once more to the shop.

Slowly, at first, then frantically, he ransacked the store.
He took the meager change from the cash register, then
rifled the antique desk in which Albina kept her records.
Thwarted there, he pawed through tins and bags and boxes,
until he found the carton in which the bills had been se-
creted,

He began eagerly pulling out one box and another and
‘another. He pried each open, only to find it filled with
cigars. He flung them away, angrily, scattering the stock in
wanton confusion.

Cursing ominously, he returned to the living room. He
pushed the inert figure of his victim from the chair and it

slid into a pool of kerosene. He flicked flame to a match
with his thick thumb and dropped it onto the saturated rug.

The flames leaped up, enveloping Albina’s body. The
fiendish design was obvious. Realizing that Albina could
identify him, the youth knew that he must make certain
beyond all possible doubt, of her death and, too, that he
must eradicate all traces of his visit to the sweet shop.

The flames, he reasoned, could be attributed to accident.
A gas leak, a carelessly extinguished match, an overheated
furnace on a raw night .. . any of these things could have
been named as the cause of the fire which must obliterate
all traces of his crime.

Briefly he watched the fire lick at the bloodstained cloth-
ing. He turned back to the stairs, to leave this scene of
profitless horror forever and then he froze in his tracks.

A shrill scream had split the quiet room. The flames had
pierced the thin veil of coma and given voice to Albina’s
pain and terror.

X-rays brought out verification of murder.

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Now wild with frenzied fear, the robber seized the blud-
geon once more and brought it down on the battered head.
Albina moaned feebly. Again he struck, this time knocking
his cap from his own head in the effort and neglecting ‘it
where it fell.

The moaning stopped. He grasped Albina by her soft,

gray curls and dragged her to the bathroom. There he °

poured the remainder of the kerosene over the body, Again
he dropped a lighted match, again the flames leapt up and
Albina’s sufferings came, at last, to a merciful end.

The murderer fled down the short flight of stairs. He hesi-
tated in the store long enough to stuff his pockets with
cigarettes, then moved stealthily to the front door.

Luck was with him there. An uncommonly heavy fog
hung outside and he slipped into its protective blanket and
vanished in the gloomy city.

All told, he had been in the little shop less than twenty

‘minutes, he had gained exactly $3.42 and a few packs of
cigarettes—and now he was a murderer, a hunted thing,
sulking in the fog that would, in time, do more to betray
than to shield him.

He had every reason to believe that the fire he had left
licking across the living room floor and devouring the frail
body in the bathroom would grow and spread until it had
obliterated all evidence of his dark deed.

But again he reckoned without the fog. It had been Al-
bina’s enemy in mortal life and it was her habit to shut it
out of the little shop and her home above. She suffered
from arthritis and the dampness brought her excruciating
pain, so she habitually closed the windows and doors tightly
against it, especially on nights such as this when it was at
its worst.

With the house tightly closed, the smoke, billowing up
from the smoldering clothing and the thick nap of the rugs,
found no escape and, in time, turned back the flames that
had begotten it and robbed them of oxygen. Thus was the
scheme of the murderer thwarted and the story of Albina’s
assassination preserved, with charred body and blackened
floor for her avengers to see,

Morning came to San Francisco’s West End and, as al-
ways, its people were early up and about. Scarcely had the
sun climbed above the Eastern skyline before a woman,

32

The pretty girl did not know what fate awalted her.

7

who lived across the street from the sweet shop on Forty-

eighth Avenue, was at Albina’s door for their habitual morn- .

ing cup of coffee together.

She was mildly surprised to find the door locked. Tradi-
tionally, Albina was up by now, the little shop- in order, a
freshly brewed pot of coffee waiting on a trivet in the living
room.

As the murderer had done the night before, she cupped
her hands before her face and peered through the glass
door. What she saw was not the gentle little proprietress,
bustling about her chores, but dense, black smoke crawling
out of the living room and undulating down the stairs to
fill the shop itself.

Throughout the night, the fire had smoldered and fought
for life, and now the sight of the dense clouds sent her
stumbling frantically to an alarm box a block away.

Within minutes, an engine company roared up, and then
another. The firemen, led by Battalion Chief Edward
O’Neill, leapt from their stringers and battered down the
shop door.

Inside, on the bathroom floor, charred, but still clearly
recognizable, the awful imprint of terror on her face, Chief
O'Neill found Albina’s body.

A veteran fire fighter, he knew quickly that this was a
job for the police. Soon Inspectors Harry Husted and
George Engler, followed bya squad of uniformed men,
arrived from headquarters.

ORD of the tragedy spread quickly through the dis-

trict. It was a comfortable section, full of good living
and neighborliness, where all men knew and trusted one
another and wives gossiped on the sidewalks and in the
markets that lined Clement and Geary Streets. Albina
Chabot had been a well loved figure among them and surely
there was none here to plot her destruction.

This circumstance, and the condition of the shop, pointed
unerringly to robbery as the motive, as unerringly as the
condition of the body pointed to murder.

On the living room floor, above the shop, Husted and
Engler found a charred outline of Albina’s tiny figure,
burned there before the killer had dragged her to the bath-
room. This told them, as clearly as they needed to know,
that she had been removed, unconscious, to the spot where
the body was found.

On the front door frame, detectives found many finger-
prints that had been made by firemen, policemen and the
curious since the discovery of the tragedy. There was, how-
ever, one set of prints that caught Husted’s practiced eye.
They had been made, he knew by experience with the fog,
the night before, when the mist had lain heaviest on the city.

He knew this because blood heat in the hands of an ex-
cited human being transforms the salty humidity of Pacific
fog clouds into a scarifying agent, which etches fingerprints
into any soft surface, leaving them damningly limned there.

Husted found no matching prints inside, but he did find
two mismated work gloves, apparently slipped on by the
killer as he prepared to strike. One was a smooth leather
glove, the other canvas backed and rough leather faced.
The murderer had—Husted concluded—hoped, through
these, to leave the impression that two persons had been
in the store when the robbery-murder was committed.

Both gloves were bloodstained and there were smears of
blood about the store and living quarters left by the gloves.
The fingerprint expert arrived and the inspectors gave him
the gloves and pointed out the fogged print on the door
frame. As the agent began his transfer and Husted and
Engler returned to the shop, an excited little man appeared
at the street door and demanded admittance.

Inside, Engler heard him and directed the officer on
guard to let him in. Looking nervously over his shoulder,
he told Engler that he operated a valet shop nearby and
that that morning he had found, among clothing left to be
cleaned, a pair of bloodstained corduroy trousers.

“They belong to Charley Simpson,” he said, holding
them up for inspection,

sin PE

“Who's Charley Simpson?” Engler asked. :

“He lives down on Fifty-first Street,” the valet said. “‘Al-
bina knew him . . . that’s why she let him in.”

He pointed excitedly toward the crowd outside the door.
“He's right out there now,” he cackled. “That’s him . .-.
the big one with the slick hair and leather jacket . . .”

Husted picked out a huge, dull visaged youth with heavy
lidded eyes and a slack mouth. He was staring dully into
the shop, as were scores of others, Husted tapped him on
the shoulder. He betrayed no excitement.

“Come on inside,” Husted said. “I understand you knew
Albina pretty well.”

“I did.” Simpson said. “She was a nice old lady.”

The two went to the rear of the shop. Husted picked up
the corduroy trousers, Simpson eyed them curiously. Then
he said: “Those look like mine. How did they get here?”

“You left them at the cleaning shop some time last
night,” Husted said. “The valet said they were under the
night drop.”

Simpson looked puzzled. Husted pointed to the blood-
stains. “I suppose you know what made those stains,
Charley.”

“Blood,” Charley Simpson answered, ingenuously.

“Blood!” Husted was taken aback by his calm reply.
“Well I'll be damned!”

“What's the matter?” Simpson inquired. “I had a nose
bleed the other day.”

“What other day?”

“I think it was Monday,” Simpson answered.

“If you had a nose bleed Monday . . . that was four
days ago . . . how'd it happen you just left the trousers to
be cleaned last night?”

_Simpson shook his head. “I left them at the cleaner’s the
day they got spotted . . . Monday.”

Without a word, Simpson went to-the rear door. He
ordered a uniformed man to bring the valet back.

The little man started talking rapidly as soon as he came
into the room.

“Them’s your pants, Charley . . . you can’t deny it.”

“He didn’t say they weren’t,” Engler put in. “What he
did say is that he left them in your place last Monday.”

“He did not . . . I mean, I found them only this morn-
ing,” the valet protested. “I hope to die if I didn’t... I
found them in the things under the night drop . . .”

Simpson shouted angrily, “I didn’t put them in the night
drop, and you know it. I put them on your counter when
I brought them in. What are you trying to do?”

He started toward the valet. Husted pulled him back.
The valet backed up against the wall and began to bluster.

“Who’s a liar, me or him? You gonna believe me or him?
Who’s gonna believe him?”

Husted moved over and towered above the little valet.
“I want no more lying from anybody,” he said threaten-
ingly. “Did he or did he not leave these pants with ‘you
on Monday?”

“Now that I think it over, I remember he did leave a
pair of pants Monday. Maybe I got them mixed up,” the
valet admitted. “I didn’t mean any harm—I just wanted to
help the police.” :

“You just wanted to get your name and maybe your pic-
ture in the paper,” Husted said. “Now get out of here before
I let Charley take care of you.”

He turned to Simpson as the valet fled through the
rear door.

“Sorry, Charley,” he said, “but don’t get rough with the
little sap, You'd just get yourself into trouble.”

“Okay,” said Simpson. “But I oughta kick his pants all
the way out to Seal Rock.”

S HE walked to the door with Simpson, Husted stopped

to study the fog-etched handprint again. It was high

on the lintel, as if it had been left by a tall man leaning
close against the door to get a clear view inside.

He called that the fog had fallen at approximately eight

P.M. the night before and had reached its greatest density

Suspect did some talking at scene of the crime.

about ten minutes later. He recalled, too, that it had lifted
about ten, as the San Francisco fog habitually does; hence
no such print could have been left by the mob that gathered
when the story of Albina’s death got out.

Engler appeared at the door and called Husted. He held
the cigar box in which the day's receipts had been secreted.
He'd found it, he said, after Mrs. Neil had told him Albina
used the big carton as a safe. The roll of bills was neatly
marked: “Receipts for. Feb. 18. Going change in

cash register, $3.42.”

As the inspectors examined the money, a fireman ap-
peared, holding a cap. It was a peculiarly made cap, with
(Continued on page 38)

a green vizor and triangular


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38

A DATE FOR SEX

(Continued from page 19)

her several times with the paring knife.
However, he could not recall having
hit her with the hammer.

While Dorothy Clark lay bloody and
inert on the floor, Walsh had divested
himself of his bloody shirt and donned
a zipper jacket he had found in a
closet. He returned to the Waxman’s
bar, had a couple of drinks, and later
went home to Oklahoma City.

James Walsh’s oral confession re-
sulted in his being locked up for the

night in the Oklahoma City jail. On

the following morning, Bachus and
Creamer took their prisoner back to
Tulsa. The Waxmans had returned home
on the previous evening.

In Tulsa, Walsh was interrogated by
County Attorney David Hall and As-
sistant Police Chief Jack Purdy. Walsh
repeated the confession he had already
made in Oklahoma City. His words
were taken down by a police stenog-
rapher. A notary was brought in and
Walsh signed a statement in which he
admitted the stabbing of Dorothy Clark.

However, the prisoner still insisted
that he had no memory at all of strik-
ing the dead woman with a hammer.
“But,” the county attorney said, “he
doesn’t deny it, either. He simply says
that he can’t remember using the ham-
mer. He clearly recalls hitting Miss
Clark with his fists and stabbing her.”

On Friday afternoon, Walsh volun-
tarily accompanied half a dozen officers
to the St. Louis Avenue apartment and
reenacted the killing.

“Walsh was confused about one or
two details,” said the county attorney,
“but otherwise everything he did jibed
with his confession.”

After leaving the murder house,
James Walsh was taken before a mag-
istrate charged with first degree mur-
der. He was ordered held without bond
for a hearing in the immediate future.

County Attorney Hall highly praised
the efforts of the police.

“Tt is amazing,” said Hall, “that with
virtually no clues the police, within five
days of the murder have a suspect in
custody who has confessed to the crime.”

The detectives who worked on the
case are ready to admit that they were
more or less lucky. Nevertheless,. they

certainly came Up with some sound.

theorizing. The idea of taking the Wax-
mans to Oklahoma City was, indeed,
a long shot but it proved to be a long
shot which came off.

After Walsh had faced the magistrate,
he was placed in two police lineups.
On each occasion, a taxi driver iden-
tified Walsh as the man who had ac-
companied Dorothy Clark on the eve-
ning of her death.

Brought to trial for the brutal crime,
James Walter Walsh was found guilty
of first degree manslaughter on Janu-
ary 17. He was sentenced to serve
30 years in prison, The testimony
brought out that the pretty divorcee had
been stabbed 25 times, in addition to

the beating with the hammer, Walsh —

was taken to the Oklahoma State Prison
at McAlester to serve his time. *

Editor's Note: The names Cora Lel-
lund, Roland Haggy and Herbert and
Anne Waxman are fictitious. °

SEVERED FINGER
(Continued from page 33)

inserts

“Where'd you get
asked.

“T fished it out from under a bureau
upstairs,” the fireman explained, “while
I was making a check.”

“Thanks, Mac.” Husted took the cap
and turned to Engler. “I think we can
finish up at headquarters.”

At the Homicide Bureau, Husted
pulled the cap from his pocket and
tossed it on his desk. Inspector Louis
De Mattei, of the Automobile Theft
Squad, stared at it.

“Where'd you get that?” he asked,
curiously.

“Out at the Chabot place,” Husted
said.

“The Chabot place?” De Mattei re-
peated. “‘Isn’t that that fire and mur-.
der out in the Richmond district?”

“That’s right.”

De Mattei turned the cap over re-
flectively. “Same vents, same vizor,” he
mumbled. ‘Where did I see that one?”

“Got a hunch?” Husted suggested.

“I think so,” De Mattei said. “Seems
to me I picked up a bird wearing a lid
like that a few days ago. Out in that
district, too.”

“Auto theft?”

“In a way,” De Mattei said. “Punk
borrowed: a neighbor’s crate and kept
it out a couple | of days without the
owner’s consent.”

of webbing in the crown.
this?”

“He’s probably coming up today,”.
De Mattei said. “I'll go to Judge Steiger *

of Municipal Court and see if he’s
among the mob.”

An hour later, De Mattei returned, a
look of grim satisfaction on his face.
“He’s down in the can.”

Husted reached for an
phone.

“Jail, please,” he said. Then, ‘Hello,
Mike? Send up the one Louie just sent
down from Steiger’s court to hold for
George and me.”

Ten minutes later, the door to the
Homicide Bureau opened and a jail
guard walked in. He reached back and
dragged a figure after him.

“Here’s Louie’s baby,”
said.

Husted stared and half rose from his
chair. “Well,” he exclaimed. “Charley
Simpson!”

“Moses on the mountain top!” Engler
gasped, looking from Simpson to De
Mattei. “Is this your suspect?”

“Ask him, is that his cap,” De Mattei
said.

IMPSON stared at Engler and Hus-
ted moodily. His sallow skin had
gone gray over his high cheek bones
and his huge hands hung at his sides

intercom

the guard

Husted :

; eth eet

ae See

like a pair of loose, old cotton gloves.

“Was it you wanted to see me, Mr.
Husted?” he asked.

“Wait a minute,” De Mattei inter-
rupted. “When I picked this punk up
in court this morning, he asked me
what I wanted. And then he said, ‘It
looks bad for me, having that old
woman killed out in my neighborhood,
don’t it?’”

“What made you ask that, Charley?”
Engler demanded.

“That’s not what I asked,” Simpson
replied, evenly. “He'd picked me up be-
fore for nothing. So this time, I said,
‘I suppose because somebody was killed
out my sway, you'll try to pin that on
me too.’

De Mattei picked up the cap from
the table and held it out. “I suppose you
never saw this before,” he sneered.

“Maybe not that one,” Simpson an-
swered, calmly, “but I’ve got one just
like: it.”

“Where is it?” Husted asked.

“T left it out at the golf club where I
caddy,” Simpson said. “It’s around out
there somewhere.”

“Can anybody look it up for you?”
Engler suggested.

“Eddie, the janitor could check it,”
Simpson said. “I left it down in the
locker room.’

Engler put through a call to the
Lincoln Park golf house.

“Eddie says the cap’s not there,” he
reported as he put down the phone,
“and he also says Charley's not sup-
posed to leave his things hanging
around where anybody can pick them

Simpson shook his head, slowly, then
brightened.

“Listen,” he half whispered, ‘‘couldn’t

somebody have taken my cap and then

lost it somewhere, sort of convenient-
ly?”

“Where would they lose it, Charley?”
Husted asked softly.

“Wherever you found this one,”
Simpson said. “After all, I’m not so
dumb but what I know this cap must
have been found out around Albina’s

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somewhere. I may be just a dumb
cluck caddy, but I’m not that dumb.”

“As a matter of fact, Charley, we
found it in Albina’s sitting room,”
Husted said. “I suppose it could be just
as phony as the cleaner’s story about
the pants; so why not wait around until
we compare some fingerprints?”

“Sure,” Charley Simpson agreed.
“You’ve got mine now ... got them
when I Was picked up on that bum
car rap.”

Husted went into an adjoining room
and picked up an intercom again. He
asked the fingerprint room for a check
of Charley Simpson’s prints against the
fog-etched print taken off the Sweet
Shop door. Then he returned to the big
room.

“Charley,” he said, “there was a
print of a whole hand on the outside
door frame of Albina’s place and it
was made after closing time and before
the fog lifted at ten o'clock.”

“So what?”

“It was a print of your right hand
and fingers, Charley,” Husted an-
nounced, significantly. “They just

checked it upstairs.”

“What’s so hot about that?” Charley
chuckled. \“I stopped by there on my
way home to buy some cookies, like
I do almost every night. When Albina
didn’t answer, I leaned against the door
to peek inside, but I never did see her.”

The three inspectors stared at Char-
ley, then at each other. Finally Husted
spoke:

“Why didn’t you tell us about that
last night, Charley?”

“I guess I was so sore I forgot every-
thing,” Simpson replied. “Seems to me
I had a right to be excited.”

“Yes, Charley,” Husted agreed, re-
signedly, “I suppose you did.”

“Now you've got. an answer for just
about everything,” Engler said, “except
where you were when Albina was
killed.”

“I was with my girl,” Simpson said.

“Who’s your girl?” Husted asked.

“Siri Nihlson,” Charley said. “She
works as a nursemaid.”

“Suppose we bring her in,” Husted
suggested. “You don’t mind waiting
around until we talk to her do you,
Charley?”

“No. sir,” Charley said. “I can take
her home, then.”

“Sure,” Engler said. “You can take
her home, Charley.”

IRI NIHLSON was a_ beautiful
Scandinavian girl who had been in
America just four years. While work-
ing as a waitress on San Francisco’s
Ocean Beach she had met Charley
Simpson, then employed in a beach
concession, and they had started keep-
ing company,

She walked into the Homicide Bu-
reau, tall, golden blonde and wide eyed.
The toughened inspectors drew deep
breaths and looked a second time, in-
credulously. Here, they sensed, in-
stinctively, was a girl who would speak
the truth. With her as an alibi, Charley
Simpson’s position, for all the cap and

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the’ fingerprints, was unassailable. Gent-

ly, Husted began questioning her about —

the suspect.

“You're a friend of Charley Simp-
son’s?”

“Yes, and I know all about it,” the
girl replied in her soft accent. “I was
with him when he drove the car. He
didn’t intend to steal it... he really
didn’t steal it. I was sorry for him be-
cause he wasn’t really being bad. Really
he wasn’t.” :

“Were you with him last night?”

“Yes, I was,” Siri said, “but he didn’t
have a car.”

“We aren’t thinking about a car,”
Husted explained. “What time did you
meet him?”

“He was late,” Siri said, naively. “It
was past nine-thirty.”

The inspectors looked at each other
quickly.

Here was the first break in Charley
Simpson’s earlier confident story. |

“Are you positive of that?”

“Oh, yes,” the girl said. “I was wor-
tied because I got off work at eight-

thirty and he wasn’t there and I was-

afraid he might be borrowing a car
again and I didn’t want him to.”

There was a brief silence and then
Husted: said softly:

“You wait in the other room for a
few minutes, Siri. We want to talk to
Charley again.”

“Just a minute,” Engler interrupted,
“Did Charley tell you why he was late
last night?”

“Yes,” Siri said.
change his clothes.”

Charley Simpson stepped buoyantly
into the big room. He looked about
quickly, obviously expecting to see Siri
Nihlson. “Where’s my girl?” he asked
defiantly.

“Let’s cut the kidding, Charley,”
Husted shot at him. “You didn’t pick
Siri up last night until after nine-thirty,
did you?”

“Did she say that?” Simpson de-
manded, paling.

“She did,” Engler said. “She also
said you were late because you stopped
to change your.clothes before calling
for her.”

“Mr. Husted,” Simpson said, hope-
fully, “Seri’s Swedish and she doesn’t
understand American things yet. She
had her watch all loused up last night
-_- . more than an hour fast, it was.
That’s how she happened to say that.”

“Did you call her attention to it?”
Husted inquired.

“Yes,” Simpson said. “I showed her
my watch and she saw it was only
eight-thirty,, but she must have gotten
mixed up again.”

“Bring Siri Nihlson in,” Husted said
to Engler.

Siri looked at Simpson and smiled
wanly as she entered the room. Husted
leaned against the table edge and faced
her.

“Siri,” he said, “we want you to
think hard, now, and tell the truth and
nothing else.”

“I always tell the truth,” Siri said.
“Always.”

“He stopped to

“I believe you,” Husted said. “Now
tell us . . . did Charley tell you last _—
night that your watch was fast when he
picked you up?”

“Yes, he did.” She turned eagerly to
Simpson. “But that was wrong, Char-
ley. I looked at the clock in the jewelry
store window and it was just the same
as mine and, what’s more, the one at
home, was too.”

“You dumb broad,” Simpson ex-
ploded. “You stupid cow... I oughta
known better than to get mixed up
with a dumb foreigner . , .”

“What do you mean, Charley?”
Tears came to the girl’s eyes. “What
have I done, Charley? I wouldn’t hurt
you, Charley...”

“Get out of my sight before I knock
your brains out!” Simpson snarled
angrily.

Engler led the weeping girl from the
room. Simpson spat angrily after her,
then began berating her profanely.
Husted said quietly: “You killed her,
Charley. Do you want to tell how you
did it?”

“Why not?” Simpson said. “I'll tell
you everything . . , and it’ll be good.”

He told the story that was told at the
beginning of this piece, except for the
additional details of burying the blood-
stained clothing at the beach and burn-
ing the death bludgeon in the family
furnace.

The following morning he’d gotten
up early and joined the throng in front
of the death house. sor

“You guys almost had me there,” he
sneered. “If you’d been half as smart
as you think you are, you wouldn’t
have had to drag that dumb dame down
here. It’s a wonder, with guys like you
as dicks, people don’t get away with
murder all the time.”

Charley didn’t have long to ‘ponder |
that riddle. A jury found him guilty of .
murder in the first degree without rec-
ommendation of mercy and on July
17th, he was hanged in San
Quentin prison. ee . 4

Editor’s Note: The name Siri Nihl-
son is fictitious .

PROVE I KILLED
(Continued from page 37)

“Quite a character,” Cline said.

“And then some,” Taylor said. “I
happen to know that he has made at
least $500,000 in the ring. And right
now he’s not doing too badly in the
movies, That’s why he’s in Los Angeles.
But he has blown it all, mostly on
women and booze.

“In 1896 he was welterweight cham-
pion of the world, having cold cocked
such notables as Pete Maher, Tommy
West, Jack Wilkes, Tommy Ryan and
Joe Choynski, to name a few.

“He was never knocked out until he
met Jim Corbett in 1900. And Jim
was a heavyweight, as you well know.
He also fought Sailor Sharkey. He
didn’t win the fight, but he knocked the


SHANNON, Willard C., wh, hanged CA (Amador)

ELUSIVE SLAYER

A

It was a simple matter for the
fugitive to stop in the apartment
of one of his numerous girl friends
and change his disguise while she
read accounts of the chase.

HERIFF GEORGE LUCOT was
puzzled. It was the most peculiar
thing he had ever known a killer to

do, “Ever see anything like it ?” he asked
Deputy Julius Podesta.

Podesta shrugged. “Never, Looks like \

the work of a maniac, doesn’t it?”

The two men fell silent while Coroner
Daneri of Amador -county, Calif., began
his examination. They had arrived at the
spot only a few minutes before, The
scene was a wind-swept section of snow

44 ; ‘

covered mountain 18 miles north of Jack-
son, Calif. It was Jan. 8, and an ex-
tremely. cold day so that the officers

‘ shivered as they watched the coroner who

stooped over the frozen body of the young
man in the snow. é

A .rancher who had discovered the
corpse that morning watched the three
men with interest, He had been hunting
when he had rounded a thicket of man-
zanita brush and had almost fallen. over

.

the dead man, ty

May 4, 1928

A glance was all that the rancher had
needed to tell him that here was no acci-
dent or suicide. No weapon was in sight
and the startled rancher wasted'no time
in reaching a telephone where he called
the sheriff. '

The victim had apparently been in his
early 30’s and was well dressed in a neatly
pressed blue suit. He lay on his back with
outflung arms, An expensive gray hat
was ‘near his frozen left hand. A dark
blue Chesterfield style overcoat had been

DARING

iin ccmnael

an
FA

rolled up and pl
on the back ot
wound,

Now the coron
and nodded to the
began his own ex
and it took him
that all the pock:
empty and that
from the garme

Picking up th
sweat-band had
scowled. “Stripp:
possibilities,” he

He rose stiffly
his gloves. “W1
on, “is that,’’ he
head of the dead
nodded toward 1)
tim. It was bare

But what had ¢
ment was the st
foot was encased
silk sock.

“Why,” he as!
one of his victim’
it be that he is a
Or was that par
identification 7”

His gaze stra)
body where ther:
prints. He stopp
the niarks in the
“two men walk
walked away. A:
was made by a w

Carefully, the
sions. But none
it was plain that
eral days before
the shelter of th
be readily identi
by -human feet.
open mountain
winds had aln
them with snow

HE veterar
prints of tl
shoes. He turn
side and his ex]
scrutinized the
he turned sudcde
“There is sol
here,” he annou
of those tracks
distance betwee:
parently walked
killer. But how
There are not
pointed this way
she must have

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her twice that night and asked
her to go for a ride with him in his new
convertible. She gave the officers his
address.

Poulsen and Rosaaen cruised through
Oakland looking for Silva and patrolmen
were stationed discreetly around the sus-
pect’s home. Precautions were taken not
to warn his mother that the police were
after. Dominic—there was a chance that
shé would tell her son. At ten o’clock that
night Poulsen called her: and posed as a
friend of Silva’s. He told her that he had
four tires he had to sell immediately, and
that he thought Dominic might be inter-
ested in buying them for his car. Mrs,
Silva told him that her son was in Hay-
ward.

Returning to Hayward the two detec-
tives hunted through ¢he waterfront area
and visited bars, cafes. and bowling alleys
without finding a trace of the. suspect.
Then they decided to return to Oakland
and wait near Silva’s home. They called
Lamoureux and the chief went with them.
Shortly before two o’clock in the morning
the new convertible pulled to a stop before
Silva’s house, and Lamoureux had his sus-
pect. He was taken to the San Leandro
police station and booked immediately.

While Poulsen and Rosaaen were ques-
tioning Silva, Lamoureux stepped out of

returned’ he had the morgue picture of
Harames. He put it on a table before Silva.

The boy covered his face with his hands.
“I wish I was dead,” he said. “I wish
he was alive and I was dead.” Then Silva
told the story of the murder; his confes-
sion matched every detail !n Clara Olsen’s
statement.

“f asked Sexton why he did it,” Silva
told the officers. “He said, ‘I had to shoot
the guy—he had a gun.’ I knew he was
lying. The old man didn’t have a gun.”

The next day Lamoureux filed a com-
plaint naming Sexton, Silva and the girl
on charges of murder. Sexton refused to

out of the way as possible, and we’ve got
no reason to believe that Baldwin was plan-
ning a trip to Chicago. The chances are
he’d have told his landlady about any trip
he was planning—or that she’d have found
out about it in some way.

“We don’t have much to go on here,
and. we've got to work along two lines. I
want to know everything about Baldwin
since the doctor signed his birth certificate
—I want to know about his former wife,
about his family, about his friends, about
every one of his habits. We ought to turn
up some motive for the murder. working
that way. Then I want every businessman
‘from here to Chicago alerted for those
queer. bills Baldwin was carrying. You
don’t often see anything. stamped on cur-
rency—it’s a federal offense. This job is
probably a long-run proposition — any
killer smart enough to work this murder
is too smart to ‘start passing Baldwin’s
money before he thinks we’ve dropped the
casé—but we ought to have a bulletin out
some time today.”

“There may be a woman angle,” Evelo
said. “The landlady’s heard a lot of ru-
mors about Baldwin, and we’d better check
‘them. You didn’t see that corpse, but you
can take my word that it was a bad one.
A robbery murder doesn’t leave a man
beaten that way—and we ought to try to

rae Some reason for cutting the body in
half.” ; :

confess under steady questioning, but both © -

the room and went to the files. When he -

Silva and Clara’ Olsen cooperated with
Poulsen. 4

On December 30 Sexton and Silva ap-
peared before Police Judge C. O. Heffer-
nan in San Leandro and pleaded not guilty
to charges of murder. The girl was not
charged.

On January 26, 1950, Clara Olsen testi-
fied at a preliminary hearing and the two
men were bound over to superior court
for trial. Sexton, who had just been ac-
quitted on charges of assaulting Pappas,
boiled over when the judge held him for
trial by the superior court. He almost
escaped from the officers guarding him
when he tried to smash a newspaperman’s
camera, and on the way to the county jail
the officers were forced to keep his hands
tied behind him.

ev Poulsen and Rosaaen continued their

investigation into the background of the
two suspects and their actions just before
and just after the murder. They found sev-

eral people to whom Sexton had talked .

about the murder, dug up the murder gun,
and developed positive evidence that Sex-
ton had held the gun on the night Harames
was murdered.

April they were ready, and on April 3,
1950, Harold Sexton and Dominic Silva
were convicted of first-degree murder. Be-
cause he had cooperated with the police
the prosecution did not ask the death sen-
tence in Silva’s case, and he was sentenced
to life imprisonment. Sexton was _ sen-
tenced to die in the gas chamber at San
Quentin.

Clara Olsen is in the custody of juvenile
authorities and will probably remain in
a home for delinquents until she reaches
her maturity.

Eprror’s Note: The names Clara Olsen,
Freddie Wilson and Grover Miller are
fictitious to protect the identities of per-
sons involved in this investigation.

Corpse

REAL Dete ctiv e (Conva ta page 21)

“And there’s a chance that it was kid-
napping,” Sewafa added. “The door to
- his room was open.”
“There’s an, easy way- to settle that,”
Evelo told him. .“I’ll get the blanket from
Illinois authorities and we’ll have the land-

lady take a look at it. She’ll be able to tell,

us if it comes from Baldwin’s room.”

The Terre Haute detective staff fanned
out into the city under the direction of
Seward and Porter, and before the day was
done all of Baldwin’s relatives and a few
of his friends had been questioned. One
of the dead man’s relatives was able to give
the. officers a hint of a motive.

“About a month ago George told me
that he’d had a fight with a friend,” the

_Telative told Porter. “He didn’t seem to
think it was serious, but he could’ve been
wrong.”

“What was the fight about?”

“Somebody had accused George of flirt-
ing -with his wife, and I wouldn’t be sur-
prised if there was something in it.”

“Who'd he fight with?”

“That he didn’t tell me—and you might
have to go through half the married men
in Terre Haute. George was always play-
ing around with women. He was married
twice and divorced twice before he was dry
behind the ears, and he’s been chasing
women all his life. He didn’t care much
. if the girl he was after had a husband.”

. “How'd he go about chasing them?”

By the time the case came to trial in.

a lot of mone:
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to get enough
It was his ow
he’d get into

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through the
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said. “We can

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from a street
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9

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cisco and the surrounding towns. He would
walk into a bar, order a whisky and soda,
take a few pulls at his drink, and pull out
a revolver. He wore a sailor suit on his
jobs, and his victims had all noticed his
bright red hair.

Miller had told Wilson that he was a
fugitive from an Arkansas prison and that
he had dyed his hair red to disguise him-
self. He had planned to hold up a San
Francisco bank with a submachine gun
hidden in his room. Wilson had been
frightened off and hadn’t seen Miller for
several weeks.

Oakland Chief of Police Lester Divine
took Wilson’s story from the Richmond
detectives and sent his men to watch
George and Mary’s Bar. Later that night
Divine had Miller in a cell and his identi-
fication men had some interesting infor-
mation for him. Grover Miller was really
William Grover, a fugitive from Chino
State Prison in southern California.

Grover quickly admitted that he was the
whisky and soda bandit, but beyond that
Divine could get nothing from him. He
denied participation in the Harames mur-
der or in any other murder, and he pro-
duced what looked like a good alibi for
the night of September first. But he was
close to Harames’ description of his assail-
ant, and he had a long criminal record;
Lamoureux decided to check his alibi
carefully and to keep him in mind.

For seven days police in the bay area

dug into Grover’s activities, and at the
end of the week Hayward police came wu
with a new lead. Chief George Forth
received a tip that a pretty young blonde
had told a companion in a bar that she
knew something about the Harames
murder.

Forth closeted himself with juvenile
authorities and went over all the blondes
on their lists. Careful study of -the girls’
past offenses eliminated most of them, and
others were rejected by their probation
officers. Finally the conference decided on
one girl whose background made her a
likely choice for a trigger-happy bandit,
and the chief sent men to pick up Clara
Olsen.

Clara was only 17, but she had an im-
posing record. She came from a divorced
family, and she had been in trouble of one
kind or another for over five years. The
juvenile authorities believed that she was
basically a nice girl, but there could be no
question that ‘she had fallen in with the
wrong crowd. She had recently become an
unmarried mother. And she had been quite
friendly with Harold Sexton.

Poulsen took charge of the questioning
and ran Clara through a long list of rela-
tively innocent questions. When he
touched on the Harames murder the pretty

blonde paled, and after that the lieutenant
found it impossible to get a straight an-
swer from her. She was obviously fright-
ened, and Poulsen decided to use shock
treatment.

“You killed Harames,” he said slowly.
“You tried to hold him up and you lost
your nerve. You killed a man.”

The girl sank in her seat and closed her
eyes. “No,” she said in a frightened whis-
per, “I had nothing to do with killing him.
I was just along for the ride.”

“Nuts,” Poulsen said. “We know better.
You held the gun and you pulled the trig-
ger. You're a killer.”

“I’m not!” the girl cried. “If I’d known
he was going to kill somebody I’d never
have gone with him. I wouldn’t have been
with him. I never killed anybody. I
couldn’t kill anybody. I almost fainted
when Harold came back—”

Harold,” Poulsen said. “Harold Sex-
ton.”

The girl turned away from the two de-
tectives and began to cry. The officers
waited until she had calmed down.

“I can’t talk,” she said. “He said he’d
kill me if I squealed.”

“Look here,” Lamoureux said, ‘you
don’t have to worry about Sexton. He’s
behind bars, and he’s going to be there
until we get him on a murder rap. Then
he'll be out of your way forever. If you
don’t talk you can be held as an accessory
to a murder—and that’s not much better
than being charged with the murder itself.
If I were you I'd do all my talking now.”

The girl nodded as Lamoureux finished,
wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled
down her skirt selfconsciously. “I'll tell
you everything I know,” she said earnestly.
“Tm in enough trouble now.”

Poulsen nodded to the police stenogra-

- pher in the corner and told the girl to begin.

. The Meat Business

“Harold was working for a butcher
named Mike Phillis,’ she said, “and he
asked me to come along with him on a
trip he was making for his boss. He took
Phillis’ 1931 Cadillac and we drove into
Oakland, where Harold had to leave a
hog at a restaurant. Then we went to
Richmond and Harold went in and talked
to somebody at another restaurant. Phillis
was trying to take over the meat supply
for the restaurant, or something, and
Harold was in for quite a while.

“When he came out he told me he
wanted to open a butcher shop in Hay-
ward himself and had to get some money
for it. He said there was a guy who ran
a store in Oakland and took his money
home with him every night. He told me

_it would be an easy stickup.”

“You didn’t try to stop him?” Poulsen
asked. “Didn’t you realize what he was
doing?”

“I don’t know,” the girl said, crying
again. “I don’t know what I said. I guess
I didn’t try to stop him.”

_ “Okay,” Lamoureux commented. “Fin-

and parked the car where we could see
him leave. When he got into his truck
Harold raced ahead of him and we went
somewhere in San Leandro. Then Harold
pee the car again. When the truck came

y he reached into the glove compartment,
took out a gun, and walked down the road.
A couple of minutes later I heard a shot,
and then Harold came running back to
the car.

“‘We gotta get out of here,’” he said.
“I didn’t get any money from the old
Greek. I told him to reach and he put the
car in gear. Then I had to shoot him.’

“I was scared stiff, and I made him take

me right home. What hevdid after that, f —

Ser

I don’t: know. I'v
know, honestly.”

Lamoureux loc
nodded. “All righ
“Go up to a cell :

“You aren't goi

“Not on your
“But we'll take ¢
the juvenile peo
for you. If you's
know you’ve got n

When the girl
moureux turned to
like it?” the chief

“Not much. T
that.”

“Check. You g«

Poulsen took R«
had a talk with M
told the detective:
permission to use
to sign charge sli
station. But he ha
Oakland or Richr
September first, an
the officers who S

“Do you know :

Phillis thought 2
he said finally.
Kostas pretty well,
to Richmond durin;
gone into business
him in years.”

Before leaving
drove over to the }
and looked throug!
Office. The file sh
charged gas at the
of September 1; ti
ing evidence that t
in Salinas.

The two detecti,
land for an hour,
rant Clara Olsen b
drew a blank whe
owner did buy his
he hadn’t received
of the murder.

Poulsen went on
a talk with Captai
Smith. Smith didn’
Kostas in the cit
Leandro officers we
ture of Sexton to
restaurant in the s
hours they were |
went into the Buck

“Do you know
asked the waiter.

“That’s me,” the
I do for you?”

Rosaaen took Se>
pocket and showed
seen this mug?” he

“Sure. He came
asked me to buy me
Phillis.”

“How long ago w

“Must’ve been a «
left some cards and
in my mind, but I
I’m happy with the
meat now.”

“Was he alone wh

“No. Hé had a cu
and there was anoth

“Another guy,” P
you sure about that?

Changing
“I remember them

it was interesting t
blonde was playing

and I figured he was
this boy in the pict
girl and the other g:
booths and I gave t

coffee.”

_ “Thanks,” Poulsen
his squad car, Ros:

» They raced to the Al:


id after that the lieutenan'
sible to get a straight an-
She was obviously fright-
sen decided to use shock

Harames,” he said slowly. ;. oe

hold him up and you lost
vu killed a man.” 3

in her seat and closed her ~

: said in a frightened whis-
1ing to do with killing him.
: for the ride.”

sen said. “We know better.
un and you pulled the trig-
killer.”

e girl cried. “If I'd known
o kill somebody I'd never
him. I wouldn’t have been
never killed anybody. I
nybody. I almost fainted
ime back—”

sulsen said. “Harold Sex-

ied away from the two. de-
egan to cry. The officers
= had calmed down.

” she said. “He said he’d
ealed.”

Lamoureux said, “you
worry about Sexton. He’s
nd he’s going to be there
m on a murder rap. Then
your way forever. If you
can be held as an accessory

that’s not much better

| with the murder itself.

jo all my talking now.”
ded as Lamoureux finished,
s from her eyes and pulled
t selfconsciously. “I'll tell
I know,” she said earnestly.
h trouble now.”
ded to the police stenogra-
ier and told the girl to begin.

Meat Business

is working for a_ butcher
Phillis,’ she said, “and he
‘ome along with him on a
iking for his boss. He took
cadillac and we drove into
re Harold had to leave a
aurant. Then we went to
| Harold went in and talked
t another restaurant. Phillis
take over the meat supply
urant, or something, and
for quite a while.

came out he told me he
en a butcher shop in Hay-
and had to get some money
d there was a guy who ran
ikland and took his money
m every night. He told me
n easy stickup.”

: try to stop him?” Poulsen
t you realize what he was

iow,” the girl said, crying
t know what I said. I guess
stop him.”

moureux commented. “Fin-

»ve over to this man’s store
he car where we could see
Vhen he got into his truck
ahead of him and we went
San Leandro. Then Harold
again. When the truck came
into the glove compartment,
», and walked down the road.

ates later I heard a shot,

| came running back to

get out of here,’” he said.
t any money from the old
him to reach and he put the
Then I had to shoot him.’
ed stiff, and I made him take
ne. What he did after that,

onestly

iow, :
Bt Lamoureux looked at Poulsen, who

nodded. “All right, sister,” the chief said.
“Go up to a cell and sleep it off.”
“You aren’t going to let me go?”

“Not on your life,” Lamoureux said. :

“But we'll take good care of you here—
the juvenile people have a bed waiting
for you. If you've told us everything you
know you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

When the girl had left the room La-
moureux turned to Poulsen. “How do you
like it?” the chief asked.

OR much. There’s more to it than
at.”

“Check. You go out and prove it.”

Poulsen took Rosaaen to Hayward and
had a talk with Mike Phillis. The butcher
told the detectives that Sexton had had
permission to use his car and the. right
to sign charge slips at’ the local service
station.. But he hadn’t sent his assistant to
Oakland or Richmond on the night of
September first, and he was unable to tell
the officers who Sexton had visited.

“Do you know anybody-in Richmond?”

Phillis thought a moment. “I think so,”
he said finally. “I used to know John
Kostas pretty well, and I think he moved
to Richmond during the war. He may have
gone into business. I haven’t heard from
him in years.” ,

Before leaving for Oakland Paulsen
drove over to the Hayward Service Station
and looked through charge records at the
office. The file showed that Sexton had
charged gas at the station on the evening
of September 1; that was pretty convinc-
ing evidence that the suspect hadn’t been
in Salinas. :

The two detectives drove around Oak-
land for an hour, looking for the restau-
rant Clara Olsen had described, but they
drew a blank when they found it. The
owner did buy his meat from Phillis, but
he hadn’t received a delivery on the night
of the murder.

Poulsen went on to Richmond and had
a talk with Captain of Inspectors W. T.
Smith. Smith didn’t know anyone named
Kostas in the city, and the two San
Leandro officers went out to show a pic-
ture of Sexton to the owner of every
restaurant in the small city. After three
hours they were ready to quit, and they
went into the Buckhorn Cafe to eat.

“Do you know, Jahn Kostas?” Poulsen
asked the waiter.

“That’s me,” the waiter said. “What can
I do for you?”

Rosaaen took Sexton’s picture from his

‘pocket and showed it to Kostas. “Ever

seen this mug?” he asked.

“Sure. He came ir here one night and
asked me to buy meat from his boss, Mike
Phillis.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Must’ve been a couple of months. He
left some cards and blotters to keep Mike
in. my mind, but I just forggt about it.
I’m happy with the guy who gives me
meat now.”

“Was he alone when he came in?”

“No. Hé had a cute. little blonde in tow,
and there was another guy with him.”

“Another guy,” Poulsen echoed. “Are
you sure about that?”

Changing Her Story
“I remember them pretty clearly because
it was interesting to watch them. The
blonde was playing up to the other guy,

‘and I figured he was her boy friend. While

this boy in the picture talked to me the
girl and the other guy sat in one of the
booths and I gave them sandwiches and
coffee.”

“Thanks,” Poulsen said, and he ran to
his squad car, Rosaaen a step behind.
They raced to the Alameda County Juven-

sit sa iberlisnsas cores ae a) aa

T've told you everything I
if _ out of her room. .

ANY + r; ie ;
ile Detention Home a

ad ‘got ‘Clara.Olsen

“This time we want the truth,” Poulsen
said, “and you’d better give it. Who was
the guy with you and Sexton the night
Harames was killed?” :

The’ girl looked away and said nothing.

“This isn’t, the time to play games,”
Rosaaen said. “You can wind up. behind
bars for the rest of your life if you don’t
come clean. You're in deep enough now.”

The blonde fought with herself for a
few minutes, then decided to talk. “His
name’s Don. I never heard his last name,
and: I don’t know where he lives. But he’s
got four bothers, one of them only ten
or so.”

Once she’d made this change in her story
the others came easily. Sexton had taken
her to Richmond and they’d met Don.
During the drive to Kostas’ restaurant the
two boys had talked about the chances of
robbing Harames. Sexton had opened the

_glove compartment and taken out a .32
calibre automatic; both of the boys had
handled it.

From the Buckhorn Cafe they had
driven to Oakland and parked near Ha-
rames’ store. While waiting for their

intended victim to come out they had
discussed the plans for the robbery. They'd
agreed not to use the gun; the final plans
had Sexton approaching the truck from the
right and Don from the left. They would
open the doors simultaneously, Don would
slug the old man in the face, and Sexton
would grab the money.

When the time came for the robbery,
however, Sexton took the gun from the
glove compartment against the advice of
both Clara and Don. A few minutes later
the girl had heard the shot and the two
men had run back to the car. The rest of
her story had been accurate.

When the girl had finished Poulsen sent
Rosaaen to the sheriff’s office and went
with Forth back to Hayward police head-
quarters. The officers searched through
juvenile records and Forth came up with
Dominic Silva, 22, who had been arrested
two years before on a charge of street
fighting. He had four brothers, the young-
est about ten, and he was the only one in
his family who had ever been in trouble
with the police.

‘The Hayward officers went out to trace
Silva and learned that he had been mar-
ried and was separated from his wife. He
was living with his mother, who had re-
cently moved to Oakland. Poulsen had a
pickup order on Silva flashed to all ten
cities along the East Bay. Shortly after-
ward one of his men came in with Silva’s
wife, who told detectives that her husband

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Fortune Teller’s Doom! 35
res told. '
ticularly ] began another survey of the house. Bit by bit my co-
: workers and I were piecing together the story of the ruth-
ser cate- less slaying of the blonde clairvoyant. Meanwhile the body
vestigate was taken to the morgue where it came under the scrutiny
of the autopsy surgeon.
nall iron The doctor’s report; the findings of Evans and Summers;
Summers Lee’s tale and the story I expected the children to tell when
-pit door they were questioned, all must eventually explain how this
he débris woman came to her death and probably why. Who killed
d on the her was the all vital question.
suddenly ; .
the poker But there were other things to see and tabulate in the
a gloved ; bedroom. The me oe gazer’s ball stirred me again
ve a piece I when I looked at it. The spot of blood was probably the
flattened. i only true fact it had ever mirrored. And this was a fact
mers ob- : of death rather than of life.
iat before I wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief which I took
from the top drawer of the dresser. Even if the truth of
-e droning life had not been revealed to Mrs. Shaver’s last client; the
id quite a facts of death might still be shown to me in a row of
nmers and finger-prints if the client had touched the crystal ball.
When I took the handkerchief from the dresser drawer
the Inspec- my hand came in contact with a folded sheet of foolscan
yntemplat- I removed the paper, unfolded (Continued on page 71)
ilovely pile
wear most
r of pants
er in there,

netal could

importance
ted the belt
; it in my
glance as-
letely oblit-

of Police Bodie A.
nm of Oakland, Cali-
(right), directs a
rapher in taking pic-
of the murder scene


34 Master

pried open the door to the cubby-hole. Inspector Evans
rapidly summed up their findings when I stood once more
regarding that blood touched crystal ball.

She is Mrs. Lillian Shaver,” he said. -“The youngsters
are hers. There’s some junk in the kitchen stove we haven't
had time to investigate. Looks as if rags and stuff had been
burned in there.”

“Blood-stained clothing, naturally,” supplied Inspector
Summers. “She was attacked with a knife. The man who
did this got blood all over himself; the same as there’s
blood all over this room.”

Before searching through the ashes in the kitchen stove,
| talked to R. G. Lee, the apartment manager. Lee was
moving across the kitchen, staring dully at the bedroom
door when I emerged. A small man past middle age, he
turned his thin face up to mine as I asked him for de-
tails concerning the family life of Mrs. Shaver.

“She was a spiritualist and held séances,” said Lee. “A
lot of men came here and one of them did this, no doubt
about it. One of them did this.”

“Know any of them?’ | asked him.

“Sure, | know several, and one in particular. I'll give
you their names. Her husband was jealous of all of them.”
He passed a thin hand over his gray hair. His pale eyes
were alert as he found himself the center of attention
when the two inspectors joined me.

WE did not ignore his offer of information concerning
the person who sought Mrs. Shaver’s clairvoyant tal-
ents, but we pressed him for more details concerning the
woman’s husband.

“We was older than she was,” Lee commented, “and he
hasn't been around since yesterday, either. He’s a moody
sort of guy.”

Inspector Evans asked him how he derived his knowledge
of the husband’s jealousy. Lee explained that he had heard
the couple quarrel and their quarrels were always over the

At left is the 1
DETECTIVE. *-

Detective

men who came to the house to_have their fortunes told
“One fellow, by the name of Foley, he was particularly
jealous of,” offered the apartment manager.

| listed the information and the name in its proper cate-
gory among the list of things | should have to investigate
before this murder case was solved.

In a corner of the kitchen | bent over the small iron
stove and peered areas the open lid. Inspector Summers
groped in the ashes an burned rags from an ash-pit door
at the front of the stove. He began to scrape the débris
out on a sheet of newspaper which he had placed on the
floor. Raking with a small poker, the inspector suddenly
exclaimed, “Some iron in there!” and | heard the poker
grate against metal within the stove. I reached a gloved
hand through the open lid and drew from the stove a piece
of iron pipe about a foot long. One end of it was flattened

“There was a bad wound on her head,” Summers ob-
served cautiously. “May have been done with that before
she was knifed.”

Across the kitchen I could hear Lee’s soft voice droning
on: “He drank a lot and batted the kids around quite a
bit....” Inspector Evans was taking notes. Summers and
I continued to sift the ashes from the stove.

“No doubt about what was burned in there,” the Inspec-
tor said when the task was done and we stood contemplat-
ing a heap of charred rubbish and ashes in an unlovely pile
on the newspaper. “Buttons from clothes, underwear most
likely; and burned rags—they look like a pair of pants
from some of the unburned pieces. Some leather in there.
too, probably a belt. That piece of warped metal could
be the buckle—”

He enumerated the articles of interest and importance
which he had gathered from the stove. | selected the belt
buckle from the pile and, carefully wrapping it in my

handkerchief, placed it in a pocket. A quick glance as-
sured me that the initial was probably completely oblit-
erated by the heat which had warped the metal.


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deck of playing cards in her chubby,
dimpled fingers.

Frances looked up as | sat in a chair
beside the bed. Her nimble little hands
were placing cards upon the cover. But
it was her eyes that held me mute. Vio-
let eyes, somber and deep, Her round,
childish face wore an expression of curious,
womanly wisdom.

“I can read them,” she told me in a
quiet, serious voice. “I can do it as well
as mother did—nearly.”

I watched a card fall face upwards from
her facile hand. “Ace of hearts,” she mur-
mured. “Love.”

“He loved her then,” she resumed, after
brief reflection during which her strange
eyes searched deeply into mine. Another
card fell beside the symbol of love. It
was the ten of hearts. ie

“Happiness,” breathed this strange
daughter of a seeress. “She wanted hap-
piness.”

I WATCHED the dimples in her chubby
fists as she shuffled the deck and
dropped a third card to the bed cover. It
was the ace of spades. Its point was toward
the odd child who regarded it intently.
“Death,” her voice was deep and pas-
sionate. | felt uneasy as | heard the dire
word fall from childish lips. “She could
have been happy but death came. She
wanted happiness and she wanted love.”

Quickly from the deck she flipped the
king of clubs and then the queen of the
same suit.

“See,” there was an earnest eagerness
about the little girl as she searched my
face again for signs that I was watching
and that | believed this witchery. “See,
the two bad club cards. Oh! | know I'll
never see her again. She’s gone, dead!”

Her eyes rounded and she stared at me.
I saw tears start, the lips tremble. With
a shuddering, broken moan the child who
had so religiously aped her mother’s for-
tune telling, flung herself face downwards
on the bed, crying: “I knew it. The cards
always tell the truth. Mother said so.
And now they’ve told me.”

She calmed after a few minutes. Her
small, tear-stained face came out of the
a She sat on the edge of the bed and

er hands automatically took up the cards
again. But I pressed my own hand gently
over hers. :

“Don’t read them again, my dear,” |
urged softly. “Tell me truthfully how
you knew your mother was dead.”

“The cards,” she replied firmly. “If |
had the crystal I could tell you a_lot
more. I want the crystal. I see things
in it, wavy nae that go into shapes and
act and move. | can read them. Mother
showed me how,” (

I thought of the night the girl had spent
in that forlorn apartment with her two
younger brothers. There was the blood
and the disordered bedroom; plain evi-
dence for a child as bright as this young
seeress to reason that something of awful
portent had happened there.

She told me her story, hesitantly, search-
ing my face with her wide, somber eyes
for signs that I was absorbing every word
she said.

“Richard and _| went to school yester-
day morning,” she said. “Mother got our
breakfast and went back to bed. She
“didn’t feel well and father was in there; he
didn’t feel good either. Little Louis, that’s
my brother who had the note on him, he
played out in the hall when we left.

“We had fifty cents for our lunches and
we didn’t come home until night. And
‘then we just waited and waited and
mother didn’t come, and | put Louis and
Richard to bed. Then I waited and I fell
asleep in a chair. Then I woke and |

went to bed. | was getting some break-

fast for us this morning when the men
came; the two men, one with a camera.
Then after that the policeman took us
away.”

“Who pinned the note on your little
brother, Louis?” | asked her.

“Why, I guess father did,” the child re-
lied. ‘“That’s what Louis said, anyhow.
Sather went to work and put the note on
Louis, that’s what Louis said.”

“And during the day, while father was
at work, would people come to the apart-
ment to have their fortunes told?”

“Oh, yes!” the child was eager to dis-
cuss her mother’s prowess with cards and
crystal ball. “Mother had a lot of people
coming. They’d be coming all day but
mostly in the afternoon.”

I left her a few minutes later. Pausing
at the door I looked back. She was age-
old and wise again. She crouched over
the deck of cards and I saw one chubby
hand reach out and pick up the ace of
spades.

A brave little chap was four-year-old
Louis. ‘Dada did,” he said when | asked
him who pinned the note upon his blouse.
He prattled on in some childish lingo of
his own. He was having a good time in
the nursery and wanted little to do with
this visitor who had come to spoil his

play.

he other boy, Richard, six years old,
held in his solemn gaze a hint of tragedy.
He was puzzled, sorely worried at the
things he had seen and done that day. His
story was the same as that of Frances.
He had been to school, had come home,
eaten a makeshift supper furnished by the
older child and gone to bed.

THE report of Doctor Harry Appledorn,
an assistant autopsy surgeon, was wait-
ing at central station when | returned.

“A blow over the right ear, fractured
skull,” | read. “Numerous stab wounds in
the abdomen, chest and side. Bruises and
contusions indicating considerable strug-
gle. Death due to skull fracture, deep
knife wounds and internal hemorrhage.
Time of death approximately twenty-four
hours before examination of the body.”

Twenty-four hours. That would be
about the time when the two children
left for school. I telephoned the morgue.
Doctor Appledorn answered speedily. “Of
course, 1 is hard to say,” he replied to
my question. “It may have occurred at

It was in this apartment house in Oak-

land, California, that the attractive

clairvoyant, Mrs. Lillian Shaver,
met a horrible doom

September

c1ac T
wonder

any time
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gone for
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find him.
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September, 1936

Master Detective

Fortune Teller’s Doom!
(Continued from page 35)

it and began to read. Inspector Summers,
glancing over my _ shoulder, muttered,
“Whew! that’s something,’ and concen-
trated on the scrawled lettering. \

The handwriting was thin and wavering.
Here and there the ink was blurred and
letters ran together as if tiny drops of
fluid had touched the page since it had
been written.

Tears? | thought so and read on:

Lillian you have done me a great
wrong. I have been trying to make
up with you but you wouldn’t. You
tried to put me in prison so you could
have your lover with you. God will
take care of you when the time comes.
I will leave a curse on you the rest of
your life. | hope you will go through
what I have been through and that
you never have a day’s luck as long as

ou live. If I can come back | will

aunt you to death. | will try and
make you the sorrow you have caused
me. Good-bye. Louis.

Al the foot of the page | read a
scrawled postscript: “I hope they take
your children away from you so you can
have your lover, for you are a disgraee to
them.and me. May God punish you for
the wrong you have done me.”

A suicide note. But hardly the note,a
man would write to the woman pe in-
tended to murder. The fact that the note
had been folded and tucked away ‘jn. the
handkerchief drawer indicated, | thought,
that the woman had received and read it.

Was this a two-fold tragedy? Had we
seen only one half of it when we opened
the door to that cubby-hole beneath the
stairs? Were those three little tots who
were already on their pay to a city or-
eng to be blighted throughout their
ives by the knowledge that their father’s
end came through suicide because of their
mother’s perfidy?

‘From the note I had already gleaned a
few revealing facts to aid the investiga-
tion. Louis Shaver had evidently once
been jailed and a record of his conviction
would be easily at hand when | returned
to central station. He had mentioned a
“lover” definitely and positively as some-
one of whose existence he was fully aware.
The apartment house manager had talked
of ‘one man in particular, name of Foley.”

In its reference to a “return from be-
yond the grave,” the note carried a threat
of terrible portent for a woman of Mrs.
Lillian Shaver’s beliefs. A spiritualist, she
would believe that the intended suicide
could “come back.”

His penned declaration to “curse her for
the rest of her life’ would be no empty
threat in the mind of a woman given to
gazing into a crystal ball and groping into
an imaginative world which she believed
was an astral sphere.

Had she quailed before the curse in the
intended suicide’s letter and attempted to
break at last with this lover who had
been mentioned by Lee?

The husband, the lover, the men and
women who were her clients, all paraded
themselves in my mind as prime suspects
of her murder.

I returned to reality. The disordered
bedroom indicated that here the death
struggle had occurred. Blood-saturated
sheets and mattress on the: bed were plain
evidence that there the blonde soothsayer
had hurled herself, or had been flung, in
her last moments.

Inspector Evans came into the bedroom
with a bent and twisted butcher knife in

his hand, its haft protected from his fin-
gers by a handkerchief. ;

“This is the weapon, Chief,” he said.
“Found it on a sideboard in the kitchen.”

I looked at the knife, blood-stained,
blackened, an ugly vicious thing. But its
twisted blade told a story all its own. To
bend it thus, the wielder of that death
weapon must have plunged it against the
woman’s breast with every ounce of
strength he possessed.

We talked to Lee again before we left
the house. He was suffering his first re-
action after the excitement of the morn-
ing. His voice was low as he added a few
vital details to the picture we already had
formed.

“They weren’t his kids,” he said. “They
were from another marriage. The two
older youngsters went to school all right
yesterday morning. The little fellow, who
had the note pinned on him, played out-
side; I saw him. I never noticed when he
went away, but when the policeman
brought him back it seemed natural
enough. The little*chap strayed off and |
just supposed his mother put that note
on him to make sure somebody’d bring
him home.”

Natural enough. So Police Officer Dan-
ielson had thought. So anyone would
think who had not seen that disordered,
blood-stained bedroom; that _ staring
corpse in the closet. But could this four-
year-old tot explain who pinned the note
on him? oso

The words .ofthe suicide note were be-
fore my eyes as:I drove toward the or-
phanage to which the children had been
sent. I asked myself, “would a man place
so terrible a curse upon a superstitious
woman, knowing well his words would
damn her utterly, and then return to slay
what he had cursed?”

LET the children answer that if they
would and could. The task of question-
ing them was not to my liking. Inspectors
Evans and Summers went about the
sterner work of assembling and identify-
ing the rubble from the stove, and of trac-
ing down the lover, Foley, who was un-

questionably the man indicated by Lee, a

and-in the words of the suicide note.

From the office at the orphanage | tele-
phoned to Chief of Police Bodie A. Wall-
man and gave him a resumé of the case.
I asked that he relay the details to Alex
Trotter, Captain of Inspectors. I felt
that I would need the keen minds of
both criminologists before. I could ‘safely
steer this investigation on to the definite
trail of the murderer.

“Frances, the older girl, is the only one
who seems to realize something has hap-
pened,” a white-clad nurse informed me
when I. hung up the telephone receiver.
The nurse had seen and talked to the little
tots into whose life tragedy had so re-
cently stalked. I knew that she was feel-
ing a surge of pity for them.

I ‘followed her through a_ corridor.
Bright-faced youngsters were scurrying
about. From the courtyard beyond an
open rear door I could hear the high-
pitched chatter of happy children.

“She is an odd child,” the nurse was
saying. “She was clinging to.a deck of
playing cards when she came in. We let
er keep.them, poor child, and play with
them if she wished.”

Thus a considerate guardian of aban-
doned children prepared me for the un-
usual sight of a plump little blonde girl
of eleven years, perched on the poset at
cover of a small white bed, shuffling a

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4 Nad,
a ;
aw
' oo “It was a good movie,” Frances continued, “so we stayed peared to be blood. There were no signs of a struggle,
oi Gs and saw it twice and it was dark when we got home. I but in a bedroom at' the top of the stairs, they found a pair
t was afraid Mama would spank me for keeping Dicky of eyeglasses and a set of false teeth, as if somebody had
@ out so late, but she wasn’t home herself. Louie was next left in a hurry or had been attacked in the night.
a = door with Mister Lee, who told us how he got lost, and __ “Frances said that this is her stepfather’s room,” Soder-
wae. how a policeman brought him home.” berg explained.
» * Frances said that she was 11 years old and that “He is either lying dead somewhere, or he is hurt, or he
_ she’ was her mother’s child by a previous marriage. was awfully forgetful when he left yesterday morning,”
aa ; Richard and Louis were her mother’s children by her Evans said. “With bloody handprints on the walls of
‘ A id stepfather, Louis Shaver, she said. ‘ both floors, it’s hard to say where the attack took place.
a |) Soderberg tried to question little Louis, but the 4-year- Let’s examine the kitchen again.”
< old just whimpered and hid behind his sister. The re- Downstairs, the men were joined by Oakland’s Chief of
a ay, porter gave it up as a bad job. Police, Bodie Wallman, Captain of Inspectors Alex Trotter

At that moment a Squad car skidded to a stop in the and Inspectors James Goodnight and Andrew Box of the
street outside the house. Inspectors Thomas Evans and Homicide Squad. The latter two began their examination
Ed Summers, and Keith Dennison, another photographer of the kitchen by sifting the ashes in the grate of the
for The Tribune, climbed out of the car. “Norton called coal stove. $

in Rogers and sent me out to get more pix, when he They were not long in finding what appeared to be evi-
heard the news,” Dennison said. Out of earshot of the dence of the attack victim’s sex. A woman’s charred
children he asked, “‘Where’s the murder?” leather belt and buckle, a pair of gold-plated bracelets and
“Don’t even know if there is one,” Soderberg said, “but it a 12-inch length of cast iron pipe were Picked out of the
sure looks like somebody’s blood was spilled.” ashes. Strands of soft brown hair clung to the pipe,
Evans anid Summers took a quick look through the house which was flecked with reddish specks.
while the bewildered children were sent next door. Mr. “I guess we know now that something’s happened to
Lee promised to give them breakfast in a restaurant down- Lillian Shaver,” Goodnight observed. “But where is the
town. body?”
On the wall of the stairwell to the second floor, the officers Keith Dennison tried the door to a closet beneath the
eee El discovered another handprint, also stamped in what ap- Staircase. It appeared to be locked. He pointed to three

Shiny new nails sealing closet led detectives to answer to Part of mystery—battered body ‘of Lillian in cubby

ete

hole

‘

mn ANG ee Vl ae 4 ; ih Ae ‘ oe oo

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and ae? he ae tae ‘ex

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49

48

the closed door of an alcove beneath the stairway. “That’s
where I ‘usually sleep,” she said, “but Mama must have
taken off the bedsheets before she left yesterday. I slept
upstairs last night with Louis and Dicky, so they wouldn’t
get scared.” . ;

“You kids had any breakfast?” Soderberg asked.

Frances shook her head. “There’s nothing but cereal,”
she said, “and we haven’t any money. I’m not hungry, but
I’d like Louie and Dicky to eat something.”

‘Don’t worry about it, honey,” Soderberg said. He
handed her a dollar. “Go out and get some bread and
eggs and milk. We'll take the pictures of Louie while
you're gone.”

Afterward, he told Rogers to go outside and phone Stan
Norton, the city editor of The Tribune. “Ask him if he
wants you to rush the film back. for the. early edition,”
he said. He looked around the dirty parlor with distaste.
“And tell him that this looks like a neglected child case
—something for the juvenile bureau to investigate.” ;

While Rogers changed film in the front parlor, Soder-
berg stepped into the kitchen again.-~ Almost instantly,
he spotted the dark imprint of a hand on the figured
wallpaper above the bed.. He called out, “Doc, come here
a minute.” He pointed to the handprint. “If that’s not
blood, I’ll eat it,” he said. The two men examined the
room, found more of the stains on the bed mattress.

“This story gets bigger all the time,” Rogers said. “Td
better phone Norton, then call the police.”

Soderberg kept the children from entering the kitchen.
When Frances returned, he said, “Never mind the groceries
now, honey. Wouldn’t it be more fun to go out for

_ breakfast in a regular restaurant?”

Then he said, “When did you see your Mama and Papa
last,. Frances?”

“Yesterday morning,” Frances said. “Papa got a job
for the week, some. place out of town—he’s a chef in
restaurants, you know. Mama said she was going to have
some clients in during the afternoon. She gave Dicky
and me money to go to the movies.


~~

50

nails, driven at an angle through the door and the
jamb. The nail heads were new and shiny. “This door
has been nailed shut recently,” he said.

The sick-sweet odor of death filled the kitchen as the
men wrenched open the door. They lifted the dirty white
bedsheets shrouding an indefinable bulk beneath to reveal
the twisted, bloody torso of a woman, her body head down
in the closet. She was clad in a filmy, silken negligee and
her, breast and neck had been slashed into a raw mass.
The officers identified her from a photo in her husband’s
bedroom as Lillian Shaver. :

Wallman examined the butchery, whistled between his

teeth. “She'll never give advice on life’s problems again,” _

he said. “In fact, she must have had a couple of her own
she couldn’t solve.” He ordered the men to search the
house carefully.

After Police Photographer G. J. Cole had taken pictures
and Alameda County Coroner Grant D. Miller had super-
vised the removal of the. body to the mortuary, Frances
was called in and identified the bracelets and belt buckle as
her mother’s. These articles, with the iron pipe and a
sharp butcher knife which had been found in the kitchen,
were sent to the laboratory for examination. The children
were not informed of their mother’s death, while being
questioned about their father’s whereabouts.

Richard and Louis had nothing to tell and the younger
boy seemed to have no recollection of how he had hap-
pened to be alone in the park. Francis said that it was
not unusual for her father to forget his false teeth and his
eyeglasses, even when going out of town. She accepted
the constant stream of male visitors to her mother as
perfectly natural. The children were sent to the Alameda
County juvenile detention home, to be held until their
father could. be found.

But the bureau drawers of Lillian Shaver’s bedroom,
which was not the same room in which her husband slept,

revealed more about her character than could the innocent
minds of her children. Inspector Evans found a notebook
filled with verses, written by the seeress in a variety
of moods, and ranging from lilting paeans to love, to black
forebodings for the future. “The most recently written
verse, dated the day before her murder, read:

“There’s love in singing for you, sweetheart, dear,

Love that grows stronger, year after year,

The love that cheers life’s trials and tears.

When you place upon my hand a golden band,

Then I will say today sends love’s sweetest hour
for human pair.

“I will try to help and love all through the year,

Now I am alone with my memories,

To wander back in days when you told me you
loved me, never more to part.”

“Sounds like she wrote it for her husband,” Trotter said.
“They must have been a very devoted couple.”

“Then she must have had a very loving nature,” observed
Goodnight, who had been rummaging through the rest of
the drawers. “Look at this.’ He pulled a letter out of a
stack bound with a pink bow. “Love letters,” he said. “And
all from'the same guy.” He read’ the name, “Russell P.
Hancock, San Jose,., California.”

He scanned them quickly, stopping occasionally at a
particularly juicy passage. ‘“‘This guy looks like a really
hot prospect,” he said. “He started out as a client of
Lillian’s, wanted her to divorce her husband and marry
him, then threatened her when she refused to see him
any more.” All of the letters had been written within the
past two months; the last on September 7th, four days
before Lillian’s murder, implied that he would get even
if she refused to see him again.

Another item the officers found (Continued on page 74)


Death in the
Crystal Ball

(Continued from page 50)

especially interesting was a daily diary
which Lillian had kept since her marriage
to Louis Shaver in Troy on March 10th,
1927. The: entry for her wedding day
read: “Louis and I were married today. It
rained all day and there was thunder and
lightning during the ceremony. I wonder
what it means?”

Other entries throughout the years
chronicled in detail her firm faith in the
supernatural and her ability to communi-
cate with the spirits and to prophesy the
future. She was obsessed with the premo-
nition that she herself was doomed to a
bloody, violent end, and mentioned this
frequently in. her diary, not fearfully but
in acceptance of her fate. When she
would die, or in what manner, she ap-
parently did not know.

On a more cheerful note, she related her
business success since arriving in Oak-
land and bragged of many attempts by her
male clients to establish themselves with
her on a, more intimate basis. She ap-
parently considered it good business not
to discourage this type of attention, but
also never to submit to it. It was this
policy of tease-and-run that had so an-
gered Russell Hancock. On the day before
her murder, she also had quarreled with
Peter Viroukis, her diary revealed.

Of her husband she said little. They ap-
parently lived in the mutual domestic tol-
erance typical of married couples as the
years supplant the early ardor. Shaver had
been unable to obtain steady work since
their arrival in California and most of the
family income had been earned by Lillian’s
fortunetelling. Mention of domestic af-
fairs in her diary usually related to the
care of her house and children.

Wallman sent a teletype to San Jose po-
lice, requesting a check on Russell Han-
cock. A'similar check was made in Oak-
land for Peter Viroukis. Teams of detec-
tives began to talk to the Shavers’ friends
and neighbors and to inquire about Louis
Shaver at employment agencies specializ-
ing in kitchen help for out-of-town eating
places.

Coroner Grant Miller’s autopsy indicated
that Lillian Shaver had been dead since
about 3 o’clock the previous afternoon. Her
breast and neck had been gashed over 20
times, one of the knife slashes piercing
the heart.

Blood on the iron pipe and the mattress
were of'the same type as Lillian’s and the
strands of brown hair found on the pipe
had’ precisely the same structural composi-
tion as her own. There was no blood on
the kitchen knife, but beyond a doubt the
pipe had been used to crush her skull,
fracturing it in several places. She had not
been attacked, as one might expect if she
had been murdered by a frustrated lover.

A report from San Jose police said that
they were holding Russell Hancock in
custody, since he was unable to account
for his whereabouts on the day of the mur-
der. Goodnight and Box rushed there to
talk with him. Officers again tried unsuc-
cessfully to find out’ from little Louis who
had pinned his address on his blouse and
left him in the park.

Hancock told the officers that he had
wanted Lillian to divorce her husband and
marry him, although he had known her
only two months. “She was too good for
him,” he said. “Shaver hadn’t worked
steady since they arrived in California.
He was living off her. If she had married

me she could have had a nice, easy life
for hersélf and the kids.”

“What did she say to that proposition?”
Goodnight asked. ;

“She said it wasn't possible,” Hancock
replied. “She had a premonition that she
didn’t have long to live. I guess it was that
feeling which gave her a sort of gay des-
peration to get the most out of life while
she could.”

“Judging from the threats in these let-
ters, you didn’t intend to let that be very
long,” Goodnight said.

The rancher shook his head. ‘Those
didn’t mean anything,” he said. “I was
angry at the time, but when I cooled off I
realized that it was Lillian’s own fear of
the future which prevented her from
taking steps to sever her marriage. I was
willing to abide by her decision.”

On the day of the murder, Hancock said,
he had driven north past Oakland, to visit
friends in Napa. His friends had not been
home and he had no one to account for his
whereabouts or time.

“Do you always drive great distances to
see friends, without knowing whether
they’ll be home?” Goodnight asked.

The rancher had no answer for that. He
was fingerprinted and taken to Oakland
for further questioning.

Peter Viroukis also’ was found, giving the
police two strong suspects in the murder,

CLEAN JUSTICE

The boy. was ‘on trial for his life,
charged with the holdup murder of
Brooklyn oil dealer Angelo Tullo, 54.
Defense attorneys challenged the pros-
ecution, claiming that the slayer of
Tullo had been described as "“bushy-

* haired."

The judge looked at the defendant,

whose hair was neatly slicked down,
‘-and ordered him to shampoo his head.

The result did not convince the jury
who, after careful deliberation, found
the youth, as well as his hair, clean
and acquitted him.

—Kay Leslie

neither of whom knew the other. Viroukis
also admitted being in love with Lillian
and confessed to quarreling with her on
the day of the murder.

“She was a strange woman,” Viroukis

said. “Along with her marvelous faculty:

for accurately predicting the future of
others went her own sure knowledge that
she herself was doomed to a savage and
sudden death.”

“Did she have any enemies?” Wallman
asked. “Who was going to kill her? How
did she know that she would die vio-
lently?”

Viroukis shrugged. “It was just some-
thing that she knew; something that she’d
known all her life, she said.”

“Maybe it was you who was her enemy,”
Wallman said. “She wrote in her diary that
you and she had quarreled bitterly, but
she didn’t say about what.”

“This is the way it happened,” Viroukis
said. “I knew I didn’t have a chance with
her, so I gave up trying. Then I met Anna,
a very lovely Bohemian girl. I came to

Lillian and asked her to look in the crystal
ball and predict my future with Anna.

“To my surprise, she got mad. She said
a union between us would have a bad fu-
ture. Then I realized that she was jeal-
ous and that she was making up the
prophecy out of her own head. I told her
so and asked her what the crystal ball ac-
tually said. We had a sharp quarrel after
that.”

Viroukis also was unable to account for
his whereabouts on the day of the mur-
der. He was fingerprinted and held for fur-
ther investigation.

Police, who had talked to everybody in
the neighborhood, found that few people
knew the Shavers, aside from Lillian’s
regular customers and the tradespeople.
Other seers had been questioned, on the
theory that Lillian would be friendly with
those who shared her professional interest
in the occult. Among these was a Mrs.
Kappell, in Berkeley, who said that Lil-
lian once had asked her to double-check
her own portent of a violent end for her-
self.

“TI hated to confirm her own opinion that
she would die violently,’ Mrs. Kappell
said, “but I had to be honest with her and

‘to my profession. She had asked me and

she was entitled to know.”

“Exactly what did her future show?”
Wallman asked curiously.

“Merely that she woud die suddenly, and
violently. It could be an automobile acci-
dent, or anything.”

“Was she afraid of anyone? Did she have
any particular enemies?” Wallman asked.

Mrs. Kappell hesitated. “Enemies? No; I
wouldn’t say so. It was only that her hus-
band was extremely jealous of her. He
thought there were too many men coming
to see her when he was away working. He
accused Lillian of having dates with that
rancher and with Mr. Viroukis and others.
But her husband also could be very kind
and tender, and I don’t think he would
kill her.” .

Viroukis, Hancock, Louis Shaver, and
maybe many others. The police wondered
which was the murderer. Yet unless Lil-
lian had lied to herself in her diary—which
her husband might find and read—none of
these was more than a harmless flirtation.

The search for Louis Shaver was pushed
‘with greater intensity. Certainly, he had
read of his wife’s death in the papers by
now. Why hadn’t they heard from him?
Wouldn’t he be concerned about the chil-
dren?

The answer, though the police could
hardly have expected to find it there, was
lying in the catch basin of the gutter on
the porch roof outside Louis Shaver’s sec-
ond-floor room. Goodnight had been ex-
amining once more the articles in Louis
Shaver’s bedroom. Looking out of the win-
dow, his eye was attracted by bits of white
paper fluttering between the wires of the
catch basin. He climbed out on the ledge,
retrieved them and pasted them together.
It proved to be a note, the most revealing
clue the police had yet found in the in-
vestigation, and it ended all doubt about
the identity of Lillian Shaver’s murderer.

The note read:

*“Lillian:

“You have done me a great wrong. I
have been trying to make up with you,
but you wouldn’t. You tried to put me in
prison so you could have your lover with
you. But God will take care of you when
the time comes. I will leave a curse on you
the rest of your life. Hope you will go
through what I have gone through, and
that: you never have a day’s luck as long
as you live. If I come back, I will haunt
you to death.

Goodbye,
Louis.

“P.S. I hope they take the children away

from you. You are a disgrace to me and

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Cal.)

as was stated by the police officers, the de-
fendant, apparently knowing his rights, de-
clined to say anything without first consulting
counsel. Subsequently, without any pressure
or suasion, other than a second reading of
Dabner's confession, having been brought to
bear on him, he decided to admit the truth
of Dabner’s statement. It cannot be said
that the trial court was not justified in find-
ing that this decision on Siemsen's part was
voluntary,
induced by word or act of any of the officers.
While the defendant had, up to that time,
been kept in close confinement, he had been
placed alone at his own request,
been subjected to any indignity or unkind
treatment. He had been allowed to com-
municate with his wife, and would, if he had
desired, have been allowed to see counsel. In
this respect the case differs essentially from
the Sweat Box Case, 80 Miss. 592. 32 South.
9, 92 Am. St. Rep. 607, and State y. MecCullum,
18 Wash. 394, 51 Pac. 1044, relied on by ap-
pellant. In each of these cases it was held
that a confession induced by means of keeping
the prisoner in a dark cell, or “sweat box,”
under circumstances leading him to believe
that he would be kept there until he did con-
fess, could not be used against him. The
fact that Siemsen was confronted with Dab-
ner and made to listen in Dabner’s presence
to the latter’s confession is not of itself suf-
ficient to establish the involuntary character

PEOPLE y,

uninfluenced by either fear or hope |

and had not |

of the appellant’s admission of the truth of |

that confession. In Bram vy. United

States, |

168 U. S. 532, 18 Sup. Ct. 183, 42 L. Ed. 568, the |

Supreme Court of the United States exhaus-
tively reviewed the authorities on the general
Subject of the admissibility of extrajudicia]
Confessions by persons accused of crime. In
the opinion in that case there are some expreg-
sions indicating that a confession made bY a
prisoner immediately upon a statement by a
police officer to the effect that an alleged wit-
ness had seen him commit the crime is not
voluntary.
very different from those here presented. It
appeared that the police officer had stripped
the accused of his clothing, and had said to
him: “If you had an accomplice, say go.
Do not have the blame of the crime on your
Own shoulders.” That these circumstances
were inconsistent with the exercise by the
Prisoner of a free will, uninfluenced by threat
or promise, may well be. The Situation is not
the same, however, where the prisoner js

HON eae ae eet Ae Ae le A ete

SIEMSEN, 867
that Siemsen said he preferred to consult a
lawyer before making a statement, and that
the police officers continued the interview
Without giving him an opportunity to obtain
legal advice, would, if there had been no con-
fession up to this point, undoubtedly be a
circumstance entitled to considerable weight
in determining whether or not the police of-
ficers were withholding such advice from him
as a means of inducing him, through fear, to
assent to Dabner’s confession. On the show-
ing here made, however, there was clearly
ample ground for the court to conclude that
Siemsen’s confession was the “spontaneous
Suggestion of the defendant's own mind, un-
moved and uninfluenced by any inducement,
promise, threat, or menace by the officer to
obtain it.” People y. Ramirez, 56 Cal. 536, 38
Am. Rep. 73.

3. After the introduction in evidence of
Dabner’s confession, assented to by Siemsen,
the people offered the testimony of several
Witnesses to the effect that shortly after the
alleged robbery and murder Siemsen and
Dabner had purchased various articles of
jewelry and clothing, and had paid cash for
the same. The sums so shown to have been
expended amounted to more than $1,000. In
several instances this testimony was objected
to on the ground that it had not been shown
that the defendant was, prior to the alleged
robbery, without means to make these pur-
chases. That the sudden possession of money,
immediately after the commission of a Jar-
ceny, by one who had before that been im-
pecunious, is admissible as a circumstance in
the case (People y. Kelly, 182 Cal. 430, 64 Pac.
063), is not disputed. Nor is it questioned

| that the same rule is applicable here, where,

although the charge does not embrace lar-
ceny, the proof tends to show that, in the

_ course of committing the crime under investi-

But the facts of that case were |

gation, money was taken by the person or per-
sons guilty of the main crime charged. It is
urged, however, that before evidence of the
possession of money by the defendant can be
admitted a foundation must be laid by show-
ing that such defendant was impecunious be-
fore the commission of the alleged crime. It

| May be questioned whether this objection goes

to the admissibility, or merely to the weicht,
of the evidence. This need not be decided
here, however, since the evidence was clearly
admissible upon another ground. All of the

, items of expenditure proven over defendant’s

treated with all the consideration shown to |

any prisoner, where no word is Said to urge
him to confess, where by his own declaration
he indicates clearly his appreciation of the
fact that he is hot required to speak, where
he has knowledge of his codefendant’s confes-
Sion before he is
ficers, and where he has, in effect, adopted
that confession and admitted its truth in all
Material respects before being confronted with
the codefendant. and before making any re-
Quest to be allowed to see counsel,

objection corresponded, more or less closely,
with the amounts which, according to the

, confession, had been paid by the defendants

told of it by the police of- |

out of money taken by them from the bank.
The evidence in question was relevant and
proper for the purpose of corroborating the
confession in this particular.

4. It is urged that the district attorney was
guilty of misconduct, in that, in the course of
his opening statement to the jury, he referred
to the confession of Dabner and stated its
purport. In view of our conclusion, above ex-

The fact | pressed, that the confession itself was proper-


UIDIQTVT PMO) Susanne eoreqeyy

880 95 PACIFIC REPORTER. (Cal,

$3.75 for serving a subpoena, and an item of
20 for reporter’s charges, and to correct an
error of $9.95 in the addition of the items as
they appeared upon the face of the bill. In
response to this the defendant showed that,
after the execution levy for the costs upon
the land, plaintiff, desiring to make a sale of
his interest therein, paid the amount called
for. Upon this showing the court ruled that
the costs had been voluntarily paid, and
denied these motions. But it is well settled
that a payment of money made on execution
is not a voluntary payment, even though there
has been no seizure of the property of the one
who makes the payment. First Nat. Bank vy.
Watkins, 21 Mich. 483; Knox Co. Bank y.
Doty, 9 Ohio St. 506, 75 Am. Dec. 479; Scho-
ley v. Halsey, 72 N. Y. 578; Hiler v. Hiler,
35 Ohio St. 645; Manning v. Poling, 114 Iowa,
20, 83 N. W. 895, 86 N. W. 30. The only judg-
ment for costs which the clerk has authority
to enter is for costs which have been taxed.
The entry of costs in the judgment, while a
motion to tax them was pending, was with-
out authority, and the issuance of an execu-
tion for the collection of such costs and the
levy upon plaintiff’s property was improvident
and untimely. The motion to recall the exe-
cution should have been granted, as well as
the motion to tax costs.

The order refusing to tax costs and the
order refusing to recall the execution are re-
versed. The judgment appealed from is re-
versed, and the cause remanded for a new
trial. This renders unnecessary a considera-
tion of the appeal from the order refusing to
modify the judgment.

We concur: ANGELLOTTI, J.; SLOSS,
J.; LORIGAN, J.; SHAW, J.

153 Cal. 398
PEOPLE v. DABNER. (Cr. 1,418.)

(Supreme Court of California. April 27, 1908).

1. CRIMINAL LAw—APPEAL—APPEALABLE OR-
DERS.
An order refusing leave to withdraw a plea
of guilty is not appealable, though it may be
reviewed on appeal from the judgment.

2. HoMIcIDE — MuRDER — EVIDENCE — SUFFI-
CIENCY.

Evidence held to sustain a finding that a
homicide was murder in the first degree, without
mitigating circumstances.

3. CRIMINAL LAW—PLEA OF GUILTY—WITH-
DRAWAL—JUDICIAL DISCRETION.

A trial court did not abuse the sound dis-
cretion expressly vested in it by Pen. Code, §
1018, in refusing to permit one accused of mur-
der to withdraw a plea of guilty after a finding
that the homicide was murder in the first de-
gree, without mitigating circumstances, where
the plea was made after ample time for delib-
eration and with full knowledge of law, the
facts, and course of procedure to follow such
plea, and where there was no serious doubt as
to accused’s guilt, and it did not appear that ev-
idence could be produced tending to mitigate
the offense; that he voluntarily confessed; that
his plea was prompted by a hope that he would
escape death and be condemned to imprison-
ment; and that he had previously borne a good

reputation not entitling him to withdraw the
plea.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cen *
vol. 14, Criminal Law, §§ 629, 633.) "" Dig.

In Bank. Appeal from Superior Court
City and County of San Francisco; Carrol]
Cook, Judge.

Louis Dabner was convicted of murder jn
the first degree, and he appeals from a judg.
ment on the conviction and from an order re.
fusing leave to withdraw his plea of guilty,
Affirmed.

G. P. Hall, for appellant U. §, Web
Atty. Gen., J. Charles Jones, Deputy Atty.
Gen., and Wm. H. Langdon, Dist. Atty., for
the People,

’

SHAW, J. The defendant and one John
Siemsen were jointly charged with the mur-
der of one M. Munekata. Upon arraignment
Dabner pleaded guilty. Thereupon the court
heard evidence to enable it to ascertain ang
determine the degree of the crime, and upon
the evidence taken declared it to be murder
of the first degree without mitigating ¢ip.
cumstances, and punishable with death. When
subsequently brought before the court for
judgment and sentence upon the said plea,
the defendant asked leave to withdraw his
plea of guilty and enter a plea of not guilty
to the charge. Evidence and affidavits in
support of, and in opposition to, this applica-
tion, were introduced. The court refused to
allow the withdrawal of the plea of guilty,
and pronounced judgment and sentencé of
death. The appeal purports to be taken from
the judgment and also from the order refus-
ing leave to withdraw the plea. The latter
order is not appealable; but, inasmuch ag
it can be reviewed on appeal from the judg-
ment, the point is immaterial. A bill of ex-
ceptions, setting forth the evidence taken and
proceedings had upon the inquiry as to the
degree of the crime and upon the motion for
leave to withdraw the plea, was duly set-
tled and appears in the record on appeal.

The evidence shows that Siemsen and Dab-
ner about noon on November 3, 1906, entered
a bank in San Francisco, known as the Jap-
anese Bank, which was then in charge of
the deceased Munekata, who was its man-
ager, and an assistant named Sasaki, and
asked to see the manager on business. They
were admitted to the manager’s private of-
fice, which was in the rear of the premises,
and Siemsen immediately struck Munekata
on the head with a piece of gas pipe which
Dabner had procured the night before. Mun
ekata was rendered unconscious by the blow,
and died therefrom shortly afterwards. Dab-
ner, aS soon as the blow was struck and
Munekata fell back unconscious, called to
Sasaki, the assistant, to come to the man-
ager’s office. He came and he also was beat-
en over the head by Siemsen and rendered
unconscious. Siemsen then took from the till
some $2,000 or $3,000, and the two defend-

Cal.) PEOPLE vy, DABNER, 881

ants went off with it. The entire occurrence
occupied but a few minutes and attracted no
attention from the outside. The two had vis-
ited the bank the day before, for the purpose
of observation to ascertain how the rob-
bery could be accomplished, and had careful-
ly planned the affair beforehand, even to the
detail that Dabner was to call Sasaki to
the manager’s office as soon as Siemsen had
stricken down the manager with the gas
pipe. There was no fact or circumstance
connected with the commission of the mur-
der that tends in the least degree to mitigate
it. The only mitigating circumstance con-
cerning the defendant was the fact that he
confessed his crime when he was arrested.
It was upon his confession that the details
of the killing and the robbery were first dis-
closed. We cannot perceive that his subse-
quent confession has any bearing upon the
question whether or not the crime itself was
committed with deliberation and under cir-
cumstances which rendered it particularly fla-
grant and heinous. The court did not err
in holding that it was murder of the first
degree with no mitigating circumstances.
In support of the application to withdraw
the plea of guilty, substitute a plea of not
guilty, and go to trial before a jury, it was
shown that the defendant was only 18 years
old, and that until February, 1906, he had
lived in or near the city of Petaluma; that
he had there borne a good reputation for hon-
esty, integrity, and good behavior; and that
he was not a strong-minded person, but was
easily influenced by others. It was also
claimed that he was insane. The grounds of
his motion were that his plea of guilty was
made through inadvertence, without due de-
liberation, in ignorance of the law and the
consequences of such a plea, in obedience to
the advice and instruction of his father, and
in the belief that, if he made that plea, a
jury would be called to fix his punishment,
and that he would be sentenced only to im-
prisonment for life. Evidence was given
tending in some degree to support some of
these grounds. On the other hand, the rec-
ord shows that when he was arraigned, an
attorney was appointed by the court to rep-
resent him; that two days were given him to
consider his plea, that at the expiration of
the two days other counsel were appointed to
act as his attorneys and the case was contin-
ued for two more days; thata demurrer was
then filed and submitted without argument
and overruled by the court; that the attor-
neys then stated to the court that the defend-
ant wished to plead guilty; that this was
against their advice; and that they wanted
to withdraw from the case. The court then
asked the defendant personally if he wanted
to plead guilty, and he said that he did. The
court then informed him that he could have
other counsel if he desired it, and proceeded
to explain to him, clearly and at length, that,
if he pleaded guilty, it would be the duty of
the judge of the court, and not a jury, to as-

95 P.—5d6

“

certain and determine whether the crime
committed was murder of the first or second
degree, and that, if it was determined to be
of the first degree, the judge also would have
to determine whether he was to be hanged,
or sentenced only to life imprisonment, but
that, if he pleaded not guilty, these questions
would be decided by a jury. He was then di-
rected to talk to his attorneys further about
the matter, and after such conversation in-
form the court what he desired to do. He
then talked with his attorney, and again sig-
nified his desire to plead guilty, his attorney
again declaring that he had advised against
it. On the hearing of the motion he testified
that in this conversation with his attorney he
was advised that, if he pleaded guilty, the
court would determine the crime to be mur-
der of the first degree and sentence him to
death by hanging, and that he fully under-
stood what was said to him by the attorney
and by the court, but that he was governed in
the matter by the advice of his father. After
the last statement by the attorney, the court
again asked the defendant if he fully under-
stood what he was doing, and he answered
that he did. His plea was then taken and en-
tered of record, his attorneys immediately
withdrawing from the case. The case was
continued to the following day to take evi-
dence as to the degree of the crime. At that
time the evidence was given, the degree of
the crime, and punishment was fixed as above
Stated, and the matter was continued two
days for sentence. At the time fixed for sen-
tence a different attorney appeared for the
defendant and made the application for leave
to withdraw the plea, as above stated.

It thus appears that the defendant was
given five days for deliberation as to his plea ;
that during this time he had the counsel and
advice of three attorneys, all urging him to
plead not guilty; that he was fully informed
by them as to the difference in the procedure
if he pleaded guilty from that to be had if
he pleaded not guilty; and that the court also
explained to him the course of procedure.
His own testimony taken in these proceed-
ings indicates that he is a young man of at
least ordinary intelligence and quickness of
apprehension, while that of others tended
to show that he was possessed of considerable
shrewdness and cunning. It must be conced-
ed that the court justly concluded that the
defendant made his plea after ample time
for deliberation and not in ignorance of the
law, or facts, nor of the course of procedure
to follow, and with full knowledge thereof.
Doubtless he was prompted by the hope that
he would escape death and be condemned
only to imprisonment, and he seems to have
been induced to indulge this hope largely
by the suggestions and advice of his father.
But we do not think this fact of sufficient
force to have required the court to permit a
withdrawal of this plea after the event had
proven that his hope was vain. If this was


eR ESES ELC Y LN Y Uataye Ww

phlor)

868 95 PACIFIC REPORTER, (Cal,

ly admitted as against the appellant, it was,
of course, not improper for the prosecuting
officer to state that he would prove it.

No other point is made, and we see no rea-
son for disturbing the verdict.

The judgment and order appealed from are
affirmed.

We concur: BEATTY, C. J.; SHAW, J.;
ANGELLOTTI, J.; LORIGAN, J.; HEN-
SHAW, J.

153 Cal. 405
ZIHN y. ZIHN et al. (S. F. 4,624.)

(Supreme Court of California. April 27, 1908.)

1. DEEDS — EVIDENCE — PRESUMPTIONS — DE-

LIVERY.

Where a deed is in possession of the gran-
tee, the presumption is that it was delivered.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 16, Deeds, § 577.]

2. SAME—BURDEN oF PROOF.

In an action to annul a deed of gift to land,
the burden is on plaintiff to rebut a presumption
that the deed was delivered.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 16, Deeds, §§ 574, 575.]

3. APPEAL — REVIEW — FINDINGS oF TRIAL

CourRT—CONCLUSIVENESS.

In an action to annul a deed of gift, the
question of delivery is one of fact for the trial
court, and, where the evidence is conflicting, the
finding of the trial court is conclusive.

[Ed. Note.——For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 3, Appeal and Error, §§ 3983-3989.]

4. DEEDS — VALIDITY — CONFIDENTIAL RELA-

TIONS OF PARTIES—PRESUMPTION OF FRAUD.

The presumption of fraud arising from con-
fidential relations between the parties to a deed
of gift goes no further than to throw upon the
grantee the burden of showing that the gift was
made freely and voluntarily, with full knowledge
of all the facts, and with perfect understanding
of the effect of the transfer.

5. APPEAL—REVIEW—HARMLESS ERROR.

The erroneous admission of evidence is
harmless, where the subject-matter of the evi-
dence has been fully covered by other testimony
in the case.

[Ed. Note——For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 8, Appeal and Error, §§ 4161-4170.]

In Bank. Appeal from Superior Court,
City and County of San Francisco; J. M.
Seawell, Judge.

Action by Andreas Zihn against Clara G.
Zihn and others. Judgment for defendants,
and from an order denying a new trial plain-
tiff appeals. Affirmed.

Charles G. Nagle, for appellant. Edwin L.
Forster and William H. Cobb, for respond-
ents,

ANGELLOTTI, J. This is an action to ob-
tain a decree adjudging that the plaintiff is
the owner of a lot of land, 43 by about 150
feet, on Twelfth street, in the city and coun-
ty of San Francisco, and annulling a deed of
gift of the same, purporting to have been exe-
cuted by plaintiff to his three unmarried
daughters, defendants herein. Judgment
went for defendants, decreeing them to be the
owners in fee of said property, subject to a

life estate in plaintiff therein, and plaintigr
appeals from an order denying his motion for
a new trial.

The complaint proceeds upon the theory that
the deed of gift was never delivered by plain-
tiff to the daughters as a conveyance to them
of the property described therein, but was
simply given by him into their possession to
be kept for him among his other papers, ang
not recorded, until such time as he wag ready
to deliver it to them, they promising to so
dispose of and keep it, and he, by reason of
his trust and confidence in them, relying on
their promise to do so. It contains allega-
tions of the confidential relations existing be.
tween plaintiff and his unmarried daughters,
and the reasons why he was induced to sign
and acknowledge the deed and give it to them
for safe-keeping; but these allegations al] ap-
parently go to the ultimate fact alleged that
there was no valid delivery of the deed, ana
not to the proposition that there was an exe.
cuted conveyance induced by fraud or undue
influence.

The trial court found that on the 4th day
of January, 1902, the plaintiff “made, exe.
cuted, and delivered to the defendants Clara
G. Zihbn, Emma A. Zihn, and Elizabeth Dp,
Zihn, as grantees, his certain deed of con-
veyance” of the property, ‘‘and that at the
Same time it was understood and agreed by
and between the parties thereto that the
plaintiff should have a life estate therein,
and that said grantees should become the
owners in fee thereof, subject to plaintiff's
life estate and right to use and occupy the
same for his life,” and further that “plaintiff
unconditionally delivered said deed to said
defendants, and it was not merely delivered
to be placed among his papers for safe-keep-
ing and not to be recorded, and it was not
agreed that it should be returned to him
upon demand.” These findings completely
negative the allegations of the complaint as
to want of delivery of the instrument, and
plaintiff is forced to contend that they do not
find sufficient support in the evidence given
on the trial. There is no warrant in the rec-
ord for any such claim. The deed was in the
possession of the grantees, and therefore pre-
sumably had been delivered. Ward v. Dough-
erty, 75 Cal. 240, 17 Pac. 193, 7 Am. St. Rep.
151; McDougall v. McDougall, 185 Cal. 319,
67 Pac. 778. The burden was on plaintiff to
rebut this presumption. This the trial court
was fully justified in holding he had not
done. Plaintiff was residing with his three
unmarried daughters on this property, which
had been for a long time the family home.
His wife had died a short time before, and
the only other heir was a married daughter,
who is also a defendant herein, she having
been granted an undivided interest in the
property by the unmarried daughters. He
was 68 or 69 years of age, possessed of other
property, and, so far as appears, fully capa-
ble of understanding the nature of a transac-
tion of the character under discussion. Great


don’t know where he lives, but it’s

somewhere in this section.” 2
Fifty detectives were thrown into

the search for Richard Delaney. They

soon learned that he lived at 27th

Street and Tenth Avenue with his
grandmother. When the officers got
there, they found the old grandmother
nervous and worried. She said her
grandson hadn’t been home since eight
o’clock on the morning Zaccor had
been killed. ,

It didn’t take the corps of detectives
long to locate Delaney. He worked as
an elevator operator in an office build-
ing on Fourth Avenue. A former fel-
low employee gave the detectives the
information that Delaney was sup-
posed to meet him in an apartment on

West 15th Street that night at eight .

o’clock.

And when-Richard Delaney walked
into that apartment at 8:05, he was
met by Detectives Martin and Walsh.
They took him to the Station House on
30th Street. Surly, he stoutly denied
any knowledge of the murder of Zac-
cor. He denied that he even knew

Tommy Kerwin.

“You haven’t a chance,” Detective
Martin said. “We have the lumber
jacket and the cap Kerwin borrowed
from young Smothers. When I saw
that jacket in the Smothers’ house, I
noticed one thing about it. There were
dark hairs on the collar and a lot of
hair grease. When I didn’t see grease

on the hair of young Smothers, I had

my lead. Besides, Fred Smothers is a
blond. We have those hairs and that
grease. It won’t take the technicians
long to determine that they came from
your head.”

Richard Delaney gulped weakly,
stared at the floor for a moment.
Then: “All right, you got me. Here’s
the story.”

His confession came swiftly. He ad-
mitted that he, Kerwin, and a man
named Andy Lunse had pulled the
hold-up. Delaney claimed that Ker-
win had fired the shot that killed Zac-
cor. He also admitted that he and
Lunsé had chummed around with
Kerwin in secret and had planned
other jobs. He wasn’t sure about the
address of Andy Lunse, but he _ be-
lieved he lived with a married sister
at a West 24th Street address.

Detectives immediately went to this
address and questioned the sister, who
said that her brother had often
worked as a longshoreman, but she™
hadn’t seen him since the morning fol-
lowing the murder. Captain Jim
Rothengast, chief of detectives for the
3rd District, then entered the case and
assigned forty detectives to work on
it. They spent three days questioning
every friend and former employer of
Lunse.

Four days later Captain Rothengast
and Detective Miller questioned a for-
mer longshoreman. He told them that
Lunse was living in his apartment on
East 94th Street.

Police cars raced up to the address.
The landlord of the building, a room-
ing’house, admitted that Lunse had
been living there with his friend but
said he had just stepped out and prob-
ably was at a bar.

Detectives covered the bars. At the
Diamond Bar on Third Avenue they
saw a man answering the description
8f Lunse. With drawn guns they sur-

“rounded and captured him.

At headquarters, he admitted that
he was Lunse, and when Rosenbloom
started to question him, he _ broke
quickly and admitted he had been
with Kerwin and Delaney when Zac- |
cor was killed.

When the two were brought to trial
on February 13, 1938, both repudiated
their confessions. However the evi-
dence against them was too great, and
the jury found them both guilty of
murder in the first degree.

Judge Charles C. Knott sentenced
them to die in the electric chair. The
case was appealed, and the high court
upheld the verdict of the jury. The

“two youths prepared themselves to

die, but a few hours before they were
scheduled to walk into the death
house, Governor Lehman commuted
both sentences to life imprisonment.

Eprror’s Note: The names of Lucile
and Fred Smothers are fictitious in or-
der to conceal the identities of inno-
cent persons questioned by the police
during the investigation.

HEADQUARTERS

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 45

) DETECTIVE mene on a .

only possible inference was that the
elderly woman had let in the killers
when she had done everything to close
except bring in the magazine stand.

“But that’s absurd,” muttered
Engler.

He tried to sleep but could not. He
thumped his pillow and turned in bed
until the covers were twisted into
hard knots. -Again and again he
imagined the fire in his mind’s eye.
He could almost see the old lady
lying on the floor. Her gray hair was
matted to her crushed skull with
blood, and her cheek was blotched
with a purple bruise from where she
had fallen. Then her ¢lothes were
drenched with oil. A lighted match
was dropped on her skirt. There was
a crackling sound and the smell of
fire as her clothes burst into flame.
Still she lay there. She was conscious
now, but unable to move. Her whole
body was an orange blaze of fire. ~

She screamed in agony. She pleaded
for mercy. And her only answer was
harsh, grating laughter. Her shrieks
became louder as her skin itself began
to burn. She clawed herself to her
knees and slapped futilely at her
flaming dress. )

“Save me! Save me! For the love
of heaven, please save me!”

Engler bolted upright in bed and
snapped on his table lamp. The grué-
some picture lingered in his brain.
His chest rose with labored breathing,
his hands trembled, and his forehead
glistened with perspiration.

He lit a cigarette and sucked the
smoke into his lungs. Suddenly a
new doubt pricked him like the point
of a knife. He and his consorts be-
lieved that robbery was the motive
behind the crime. But if it was, why
had Mrs. Voorhies been slain? She
was elderly and delicate, and the
killers certainly could have forced
her to’ reveal the hiding place of her
money without resorting to extreme
violence.

“Maybe it was a thrill killing,” re-
flected Engler, “and robbery was just
incidental.” He crushed out his ciga-
rette angrily. “If only we had some
real lead,” he bit off. “Or a suspect.”

Early the next morning the police
received an anonymous telephone
message that promised to fulfill Eng-
ler’s wish. According to the mysteri-
ous caller, there was a_ heavily-
bearded man with torn and bloody
clothes wandering through the amuse-
ment park.

Dullea, Husted, and a host of lesser
officers sped to the park. After a brief
search they found the man and
whisked him to Headquarters. The
man was nearly incoherent and
seemed dazed. He admitted fighting
with someone the night of the torch
murder but did not remember who.
He said that he might have been in
the vicinity but wasn’t positive. More-
over, he demonstrated a morbid in-
terest in Mrs. Voorhies’ death and was
familiar with many of the details of
the crime.

He sat hunched in a chair in the
Homicide Detail while Dullea inter-
rogated him. His head was buried in
his hands, and he stared lifelessly at
the floor. ‘

“I could have killed her,’ he said
hoarsely. “I’ve never been of much
account, and sometimes I go hog-
wild.” He glanced up at the sleuths
through bleary eyes. His face was
lined with fatigue, and a vein in his
forehead throbbed. “Yeah,” he husked,
“TI must of done it. How else would I
know so much about it? Besides, I fit
the description of one of the guys seen
in the black sedan.”

The detectives weren’t satisfied,
however. The details which the man

‘related had all appeared in the news-

papers. Furthermore, the gray cap
found near the cookie jar didn’t fit
him.. The officers decided to check.
Since the man had been picked up in
the amusement park, that was the
logical place to start.

They didn’t have to go far to locate
half a dozen witnesses who substan-

tiated the suspect’s story that he had

been in. a fracas at the time of the
slaying. However the suspect’s op-
ponent had been a _ longshoreman.
Both participants, according to the
witnesses, had been drunk on bootleg
whiskey. The suspect’s incoherence
apparently resulted from the linger-
ing effects of the “fresh-off-the-boat”
liquor.

Why the suspect felt compelled to
confess to a crime he did not commit
still remained an enigma. But the rid-
dle was one for the psychologist and
not the police who, through the years,
had encountered numerous other per-
sons with similar compulsions.

O THE SUSPECT was released as
S innocent, and the detectives re-
turned to their bitter task. While
Dullea and McGinn pursued their own
path of investigation, Engler and Hus-

ted pressed a special angle. Carrying 6I


A Gare ia

HIS SLEUTHING REVEALED AN IMPORTANT cLuE—

a - ee

oh

Inspector Harry Husted, who disproved the idea that the cap found at the crime
scene had belonged to a golfer. This threw a new light on the entire mystery,

or killers had gotten into the store be-
fore opening time. For although the
sleuths examined the exterior of the
dwelling carefully, they could find no
evidence of a forced entry. Equally
puzzling was the motive behind the
slaying. The viciousness of the mur-
der indicated a personal grudge, and
yet the neighbors unanimously testi-
fied that Mrs. Voorhies was amiable,
well-liked, and without an enemy in
the world.

Evans Carr, Mrs. Voorhies’ son-in-
law, was, however, able to shed some
light on the matter. The victim, he
asserted, always dealt in cash be-
cause the nearest bank was some dis-
tance, and that it was generally
known that she kept sums of money
in drawers, jars, and other odd places.
It was Carr’s opinion that these sums,
exaggerated by rumor, were what had
lured the slayer.

Carr further revealed that Mrs.
Voorhies was the widow of a once
prominent San Francisco lawyer, and
that she rose punctually every morn-
ing at 6:00 am.

This last bit of information more
deepened than illuminated the mys-
tery. For the firemen who had

handled the -blaze estimated that it
had been in progress for over an hour
and a half before it was discovered.
This meant that the murder had oc-
curred at 5:40 a.m. at the latest. How,
then, did Mrs. Voorhies happen to be
fully dressed twenty minutes before
the time she customarily got up?

“You might learn the answer to
that one if you looked inside the
building.” one bystander pointedly
told the police.

_The officers were irritated. They
didn’t enjoy being coached on official
procedure, and they weren't espe-
cially fond of amateur sleuths.

“We might,” they replied, “but
we aren’t going to until Fire Marshal
Kelly gets here.”

While they were waiting, they
again scrutinized the exterior of the
building. There, near the entrance,
they discovered a magazine and news-
paper stand. Although the stand was
covored with smashed glass and burnt
wood, it still had a magazine clipped
to it. That was peculiar, too, because
most store owners set such racks out-
side the first thing in the morning
and bring them in when they close
in the evening. Since Mrs. Voorhies

ae

INSPECTOR ALAN McGINN—
deduced the odd fact that the store had
been locked at the time of the murder,

hadn’t opened in the morning, she
must have left the stand. outside all
night. But if Mrs. Voorhies was as
orderly and meticulous as everyone
said, that didn’t make sense either.

“The whole case is crazy,” said Mc-
Ginn despairingly. “All we have is a
pile of unanswered questions and a
bunch of screwy circumstances that
couldn’t have happened, but did.”

At that moment a woman who lived

“nearby pushed through the crowd of

spectators and informed the olice
that she had seen a black sedan wits,
two men in it parked in front of the
grocery store around 5:00 am. The
woman could only describe the car as
an old model and the men as heavily
bearded.

“They're probably the slayers,”
conjectured. Husted, “but I wouldn't
give a plugged nickel for our chances
of finding them with that vague de-
scription.”

EVERTHELESS, the sleuths phoned
the Hall of Justice and requested
that officers throughout the city be

alerted for the car and the two men.
No sooner had this been done than
George Campbell, another neighbor,
stepped forward and said that he
might have been the last person to
see the victim alive. He had, he ex~
plained, bought a loaf of bread from
Mrs. Voorhies a few minutes before
closing time that night.

_. “She seemed quite unworried, and
if her life was in danger, she cer-
tainly didn’t know about it. No, she
didn’t bring the magazine rack inside
while I was there. It was stil] on the
sidewalk when I left.”

“Which gets us exactly nowhere,”
groaned McGinn. “Let's contact the
coroner and see what he has to say.”

The coroner had plenty to say. His
autopsy, which he had just completed,
dropped a bombshell squarely in the
middle of the case. Mrs. Voorhies had
died of suffocation and burns after
being beaten on the head with a blunt,
heavy instrument. And her death had
occurred approximately eight hours
before the body was discovered!

_ So the slaying had taken place dur-
ing the night, and not in the early
morning as the officers had supposed.
That was all right, but it left plenty
unexplained. Moreover, the detec-

Voth Sedat A rab.

tives didn’t see how a fire could have
blazed for so long in the house with-
out attracting attention.

“Maybe it was noticed earlier but
not reported,” suggested Engler. “I
know that sounds foolish, but I think
we ought to canvass the neighbor-
hood. We've talked to a raft of peo-
ple, but they might not be the right
ones,”

His words were swallowed by the
scream of a siren as Fire Marshal
Frank Kelley sped down the street
and screeched to a halt in front of the
building in a red fire coupe.

“Sorry I couldn’t have gotten here
a bit earlier, but there have been
more blazes popping around town
than a hound dog has fleas,” said the
fire expert. “You were wise not to
touch anything inside. It may help
us in our investigation.”

Kelly then led the sleuths through
the grocery store to the living quar-
ters in the rear where the damage
was most severe. The parlor was still
smoky and filled with the sickening
odor of burned flesh. Ugly, twisted
beams projected over gutted furni-
ture; heaps of debris cluttered the
corners of the room; and the wind
rasped through the broken window.

Near what had once been the door
Kelly found a heat-buckled kerosene
can. He didn’t have to explain what
it had been used for. Alongside the
can there was an indentation’ in the
flooring. Kelly and the detectives be-
gan clearing the fallen plaster and ash
out of the indentation. The more
they cheared, the larger the hole got.
Then they had finished. They stood
back and surveyed the results of their
work with horror. For the indenta-
tion was the exact size and shape as
Mrs. Voorhies’ body.

“This is where the fire began,” said
Kelly grimly. “The woman was lying
on the floor, and her clothes were
soaked with oil, then ignited.”

“Check,” clipped McGinn. “There’s
a trail of blood leading from the store
straight back here. The victim was
obviously assaulted in the front of
the building then dragged through the
hall to the rear.”

A _ closer examination of the parlor
disclosed numerous other bloodstains.
It was also significant that the charred
bureau drawers lay scattered about
the floor. What had happened was
plain. While Mrs. Voorhies lay un-
conscious, the room had been searched
for money. Then, when the elderly
woman regained consciousness, an-
other struggle had taken place dur-
ing which she was once more beaten
into insensibility. Another trail of
blood leading from the hole in the
floor to the bathroom showed that the
* victim had either dragged herself or
had been dragged there. And it was
there, inches from the water faucets,
that she had perished a lingering and
agonizing death.

The sleuths and Kelly retraced
their steps. At intervals the fire
marshal stooped.and tested flakes of
ash between his fingers. These flakes,
he informed the detectives, were what
remained of oil-saturated rags which

AMATEUR SLEUTH—
Charles Simpson, Jr., aided the police
and played a strange role in the case.

had been strewn throughout the
dwelling to spread the fire. ‘

“But. what about the fire?” de-
manded Husted. “How long was it in
progress before it was discovered?”

Kelly shrugged. Fires were like
women and the weather—completely
unpredictable. This one, however,
had evidently gathered momentum
slowly. It was Kelly’s guess that it
had started around 9:00 p.m. last
night. :

“A pretty good guess,” said Dullea
as the marshall departed. “It fits in
perfectly with the coroner’s report.”

HE OFFICERS’ next move was to
make an inch by inch examination
of the store itself. The blood-

stains, they found, began near a cookie
jar, which had been miraculously
preserved from the blaze. Stranger
still was the fact that the metal lid
of the jar was open. Since the orderly
Mrs. ‘Voorhies was not the type of
person to leave perishable foods un-
protected, the only possible conclusion
was that she was bending over the jar
when she was first struck.

~But why? Had she been getting a
cookie for herself? For someone alse?

“Not for herself, surely,” exclaimed
Engler. “You'll note that the cash
register has been completely looted.
You can’t convince me that she would
have indulged a taste for sweets with
one or two potential killers standing
behind her.”

“Maybe she didn’t know they were
killers,” McGinn said. “She could
have thought they were customers.”

“Except that George Campbell was
the last person in the store, and Mrs.
Voorhies always closed promptly at
eight-thirty.” -

“Then we'll have to assume that the
murderers slipped into the building
through another entrance and crept
up on her unawares.”

“Pardon me for laughing, but the
windows and doors were all locked
from the inside, and there are no
signs of a forced entry.”

Engler threw up his hands. “Okay,
okay. It’s all impossible, sure, but we
still have an unsolved slaying staring
us in the face.” The tall detective
strode over to the cookie jar. “Now,


let’s see,” he murmured. “She was
bending like this, and—hey!” He
checked himself abruptly and dug
frantically at a mound of debris to the
right of the jar. When he straightened,
he held a dusty, crumpled cap in his
hand. “One of the killers dropped
this during the struggle,”-he said. “It
must have been that way.”

The cap was passed around for in-
spection. It was gray with a wide
herringbone pattern, and there were
five air vents in the crown. The size
tab read 7%, but the lettering on the
sweatband was so worn that only the
legend “ent Street” remained.

“It must have come from a haber-
dashery on Clement Street,” McGinn
concluded. “That’s only on the other
side of the amusement park, and it
jibes with the lettering.”

McGinn’s consorts thought he was
right. They thought he was so right
that they leaped into their brace of
police cars and rocketed to the Rich-
mond district shopping artery. There
they visited stores, asked questions
and looked at caps until their throats
were hoarse and their heads ached.
Then, at last, they located the firm
which-had sold the cap. It was John-
son and Nordquist at 740 Clement
Street. :

“Yes, we've sold a number of those
caps, but none recently,” said one of
the proprietors. “They were all paid
for in cash, so there are no sales
records of the purchasers.”

“You don’t remember any of the
buyers?”

“Sorry, no,” came the reply. “But
those caps were designed for golfers,
if that helps you any.” ;

It didn’t. Disheartened, the officers
returned to the scene of the crime.
They were met on their arrival by a
distinguished looking man in a well-
cut blue suit and a ‘teen-age boy. The
man introduced himself as Charles
Simpson, owner of the fire ravaged
building. The youth was his son.

“T rushed over here just as soon as
I heard of the tragedy,” said Simpson.
“It’s a terrible thing. Mrs. Voorhies
was such a sweet, gentle old lady. And
she was always so generous to the
Richmond and Sunset district children
who played out at the beach.”

“That’s right,” echoed the younger
Simpson.

The detectives questioned the father
and son briefly, but the pair could
tell them nothing new. They then
thanked them and dismissed them.

“I do have some business to attend
to,” said Simpson, glancing at his
watch. “But I believe [ll leave
Charlie with you.. He knows this
neighborhood well, even though we
live on the other side of Golden Gate
Park. He may be of some help.”

Simpson fondly put his arm around’

his son’s shoulders, “Charlie sees a
lot of detective movies and reads mys-
tery magazines, too. I guess he wants
to be a sleuth himself.”

Charlie flushed. “Lay off that, will
you, Dad,” he complained,

his father’s departure to dog the

officers’ footsteps. Everywhere the
police went, Charlie went too. When
the police queried neighbors, Charlie
always had a few questions of his
own to pose. Ordinarily the detectives
would never have allowed this, but it
was Charlie who led them ‘to the
home of Henry Dhaveloose. Dhave-
loose and his wife, who had been at
work all day, volunteered data.

Nis een ae: he stayed on after

SHREWD DETECTIVE—
Captain Charles Dullea, whose clever
Strategy cracked the Voorhies killing.

At 8:35 p.m. of the previous evening
they had heard several screams. They
had looked out the window but had
not noted anything unusual. They
had consequently decided that the
shrieks had been emitted by passing
youngsters.

Since Mrs. Voorhies’ grocery store
was nearby, the sleuths concluded that
it was the elderly woman who had
screamed. George Campbell had been
in the store at about 8:25 p.m. When
he left, the magazine rack was still
outside and it had remained outside
throughout the night. Thus the de-
tectives were able to place the time
the killers had entered the store at
exactly 8:30 p.m.—just the time
Mrs. Voorhies should have closed up
for the night. :

“You ain’t talking through your
hat.” Charlie told Engler. “It couldn’t
have been later, or the magazine stand
would have been. inside. And _ it
couldn’t have been earlier, or Camp-
bell would have seen the slayers.”

The sleuths, who had been bothered
by amateur detectives all day, acidly
thanked Charlie for his approval. He
didn’t appear to be a bad kid, but
they were getting a little tired of
playing nursemaid to him.

“Don’t you think you ought to go
home?” asked Husted.

“Heck, no,” replied Charlie stoutly.
“I stay up real late sometimes.” He
paused and patted. the hair on the
back of his head into place. “You
know what Id do if I were you?”

“You tell us,” cried Dullea in des-
peration.

“T’d get a suspect, see, and I’d sweat
the truth out of him. Make the rat
come clean, see?”

The officers understood, but they
wondered if Charlie did. In the first
place, they didn’t have a suspect. In
the second place, the police depart-
ment didn’t use third degree methods.
Charlie was unabashed.

“Then find the dame,”
wisely.

Engler ached his eyebrows. “What
dame?”

Charlie surveyed him disgustedly.

he said

Why don’t yo:: round up all the con-
victs in town’ Why don’t you come
back here at taidnight? Why...”

HY, WHY. WHY? There were

dozens of questions that haunted

Inspector Engler when he tried to
sleep that night, but none of them _
were Charlie’s|s He knew now why
the magazine rack had been found
outside. He also knew that Mrs.
Voorhies’ had {cen fully dressed, be-
cause she was slain during the night
rather than the morning. But he
didn’t know why the victim had been
bending over the cookie jar when she
was first struck. And he knew neither
the identity of the killers nor the
identity of the owner of the gray

“There’s always a babe mixed up in
these jobs,” he said. “Don’t you ever
go to the movies?”

Engler lost his head then. He in-
formed Charlie that his help was no
longer needed or even wanted, and
that furthermore he, Engler, had seen
plenty of movies. In his anger. he
went so far as to name a half dozen
pictures, :

“Those were fair,” Charlie admitted,
“but the cops didn’t have any real
competition. How about some of the
movies where they were up against
big shot gangsters?”

The youth was too much for the
inspectors. They hopped into their
cars and told Charlie that he could
stay if he wished, but they were
leaving. As they. pulled out from the golf cap. :
curb and started down the street they There were other perplexing prob-
could still hear the boy yelling after. lems. Mrs. Voorhies, according to all
them. . who knew her, made it an iron-clad

“Ain’t you going to wait for the rule to close at 8:30 p.m. The firemen
criminal to return to the scene of the had been forced to batter down her
crime?” he called plaintively. “What door because it was locked from the
time shall I meet you tomorrow? inside. The (Continued on page 61)

Saw tN a ae

4 2 meer 2 Leeube agen

HIS MEMORY FOILED A MURDERER’S ALMOST PERFECT CRIME—
When Inspector George Engler (above) remembered a tiny slip in the conversation
of one of the figures in the case, he knew he had the key to the lethal puzzle.


crcencentgy erates snintte sentient

62

the gray cap with them, they made a
whirlwind tour of every golf course
in San Francisco. The golfers they
quizzed invariably told them the same
thing. They did not remember anyone
who wore a cap of that style on the
links. It was their unanimous opinion
that although the cap was a good idea,
it had never caught on with the golf-
ing public.

That meant that the caps had been
purchased by a different segment of
the population. But what segment?
And why? Husted was sure he didn’t
know.

Engler was equally perplexed, and
his spirits weren’t improved when he
drove up to the scene of the crime
that evening and saw Charlie Simpson
sitting on the curb.

“Where were you? I been waiting
all day,’ Charlie complained. “You
show up just when I got to scram.”
He rose, dusted his trousers, and
patted the hair at the back of his head
into place. “Did you pick up those
oe in the black sedan?”

6é o.”’

“Any new ideas?”

“No.”’

“T thought not,” said Charlie. “But
if you’d follow some of my sugges-
tions you might nab the rats who
blackjacked and burned poor Mrs.
Voorhies. My new idea is that you
ought to round up all the known con-
victs in ’Frisco who worked in pairs
before they got sent up. Then—”

“Charlie.”

“Yeah?”

“Go home, Charlie, or wherever it
is you’re going.”

A look of mingled surprise and dis-
may passed over the youth’s features.
He hesitated on the sidewalk as if he
could not believe what he had heard.
~ “Now, Charlie.” . _

Charlie turned and Started down
the street. “Okay,” he pouted, “but
T’ll send you back to a beat in the
sticks when I become Chief of
Police.” :

A few moments later Engler found
himself alone. He didn’t know what
had brought him back to the fire gut-
ted building. Maybe it was a hunch,
and maybe it was outright foolish-
ness. Yet, as long as he was there he
might as well look around. But after
an hour of poking through the ashes
and charred debris of the blaze with-
out discovering anything he gave it
up.
He drove his car along the amuse-
ment park, got out. Even the weather
was topsy-turvy. Despite the season,
the night was sultry and a sky
speckled with stars hung,low over the
Pacific. Engler strolled slowly along
the several blocks of concessions.
Everyone seemed happy, excited, gay;
there was no hint of the bleak tragedy
which had occurred such a short dis-
tance away. -

Engler noticed none of this. The
puzzling aspects of the crime ripped~
through his brain again and again.
Doubt and anxiety gnawed at his
nerves. - Everything was so confused,
so chaotic.

Or was it? :

Engler stopped short, suddenly re-
calling something which he had heard
not so long ago. It wasn’t much—
merely a snatch of conversation—but
it held the insinuation of a pattern.
A pattern of ruthless greed, icy cun-
ning, and deceit.

Engler kept walking. He pounded
the pavement until he was exhausted,.
until the beach had been bit by bit

deserted by the crowds of pleasure
seekers. But as he walked, he thought,
and the more he thought the clearer
it became. When he strode into Head-
quarters long after midnight he wasn’t
just thinking any more. He knew.
The detective had expected to find
the Homicide Detail empty. Instead
he found Dullea, McGinn, and Husted
there. Also present were Inspector

Louis De Matei of the Auto Theft De- ©

tail and Officer Arthur Dolan of Rich-
mond Station. But his surprise_at this
was nothing compared to his amaze-
ment when he learned that his con-
sorts had also solved the mystery, al-
though by a different method.

The single point of mutual discov-
ery was the realization of what type
of person could be expected to wear
the gray cap. From this realization
Engler’s associates had proceeded to
the assumption that whoever had com-
mitted the murder was familiar with
the amusement park. The next step
was to contact Officer Dolan, who pa-
trolled the beach. Dolan had his sus-
picions, and he made them plain.
Then, when the sleuths checked with
De Matei in Auto Theft, they obtained
the clinching bit of evidence. De Ma-
tei had once seen the gray cap. More
important, he remembered precisely
where he had seen it.

“But how did you figure it out?”
Dullea asked Engler.

Engler explained as quickly as pos-
sible. From the beginning, the case
had appeared to be an example of the
perfect locked-room murder. The
store had been closed and there were
no signs of a forced entry, yet the
killers’ had gotten inside. The only
alternative to a number of impossible
solutions was that Mrs. Voorhies had

“let the slayers in herself. But why?

“That question beat me,” said Eng-
ler, “until I again asked myself why
such a delicate woman should have
been slain when robbery was the mo-
tive. Then I understood that the mur-
derers had been forced to kill her to
protect themselves. In other words,
she recognized them. And that told

me why she let them in after closing .

time. The killers weren’t only ac-
quaintances; they were persons who
had some right to be in the store. I
saw, too, that they had pretended to

make a purchase. That was why the

woman was bending over the cookie
jar. Then, when she was assaulted,
the killer who had doffed his cap in
greeting dropped it.”

“You still believed there were two
killers?”

“Not after I’d really thought things
over. Then I realized it could only be
one person.” Engler sighed. ‘“That’s
all there is to it.” .

Dullea nodded. Yes, the case was
wrapped up now. De Matei’s records
revealed that the slayer had been in-
volved in six auto thefts in the past
four years. On January 17, a month
before’ the murder, he had been ar-

rested in a stolen car with his girl- -

friend. It was typical of the slayer’s
cunning that he even deceived the
woman h2 loved. For the girl, a twen-
ty-three-year-old housemaid, believed
him when he told her he had bor-
rowed the vehicle from a friend.

The lovely brunette, who was in
no way connected. with the slaying,
had also been’ touched by his sincerity
when he said:

“What kind of monster could have
murdered fine old Mrs. Voorhies?”

“She probably would have been
scared out of her wits if she’d known

the answer to that one,” grinned Hus-
ted. He went on to inform Engler
that the killer was now out on bail on
the auto theft charge. His preliminary
hearing, however, was scheduled for
the following morning. The officers
had already decided to pounce on him
in court.

IME PASSED swiftly. The zero

hour approached, and the sleuths

waited patiently in Judge Theresa
Meikle’s court for the slayer to enter.
Then, abruptly, he was there. He wore
a neat suit, and an expression of bland
innocence was engraved on his fea-
tures. Unexpectedly the sleuths sprang
on him. Before he could recover from
his surprise, Inspector McGinn had
slapped the cap on his head.

It was a perfect fit!

Seconds -later the killer was do-
nated a new addition to his wardrobe
—a pair of handcuffs.

“Okay, I’ll come clean. I rubbed out
the old lady because I wanted her
dough, but all I got was a few bucks
and some cigarettes,” he snarled. “You
cops know how I pulled the murder.
What I want to know is how you fin-
gered me.”

“Golfers didn’t wear those caps with
the air vents,” explained Dullea. “The
only other persons likely to be wear-
ing them, especially in winter, were
kids. That pointed the suspicion at
you. Then, too, you were familiar
with the amusement park area.”

“But so are lots of other kids,” ob-
jected Charles Simpson, Jr.

Engler took over. “Sure, Charlie,
but you overplayed that amateur
sleuth angle. You fooled everyone for
a while—your girl, your parents, and
the police—but in the end you tried to
make too much of a good thing. You
were over-eager for us to catch a sus-
pect. You even let it slip out that you
thought third degree methods would
be okay. What you hoped was that
we would sweat a confession out of
an innocent man. You didn’t savvy
that strong-arm methods weren’t used
by the police.” .

“Should I have known?”

“Tf you were as interested in scien-
tific detection as you pretended, you
should have. Your father himself be-
lieved that you were interested. He
said you saw lots of detective movies
and read piles of mystery magazines.
That threw me off the track until I
cracked wise that you were fascinated
by the criminals and not the sleuths.”

The young Simpson frowned. “Did
I pull any more boners?”

“Just one. It was a tiny slip, but it
was what tipped me off in the first
place. You told me that if I would
follow your suggestions I might nab
the men who blackjacked Mrs. Voor-
hies.”

“So what?”

“So no one, including the coroner,
knew what kind of heavy instrument
the victim had been beaten with. No
one, that is, except the killer himself.”
Engler glanced up. “What did you do
with the blackjack, Charlie?”

“Buried it in the park.”

An indictment for murder was
quickly brought against the youthful
killer, but at the last moment he
pleaded guilty. Superior Judge Louis

Ward appointed a board of psychia-.

trists to examine him. The board

found him legally sane, and on April

20, 1931, Judge Ward sentenced him

to be hanged by the neck until dead.
On July 17, this was done.

* ‘Tae END


otee that there’s any-

d put the mike back
g the car along Esta-~
ore he could get to

oulled ‘the car to the
into the driveway
just over the pave-

slightly.

said, climbing out

ured man and knelt

twisted lips of the

by the old man’s
one had shot him
d been young and
khaki pants. Ash-

man told the wounded man to relax; then he rose to his feet
and went over to Moll.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes. later with Officers
Wayne Macho and Selo Capitola, As the attendants lifted
the wounded man to a stretcher something cracked onto the
pavement. Ashman ran his flashlight over the sidewalk and
came up with a lead slug. Then he went back to the car and
called Chief of Police A. J. Lamoureux. The chief assigned

Lieutenant Andrew Poulsen to the case, ordered Ashman

to remain at the scene, and went himself to the hospital.

He found information waiting for him on his arrival. The
old man had been identified as Harry Harames, 67, owner
of a fruit and grocery store at 9419 East 14 Street in Oakland,
a few miles from San Leandro. He had been shot at his
home. The bullet had entered his right chest and the slug
had passed through his body, emerging from the left side.

In Harames’ coat pocket was a paper bag containing a
hundred dollars in cash and a check for an additional 74

dollars. Lamoureux went to the wounded man’s room and
waited for him to regain consciousness. When the doctors
had revived him the chief asked a few questions.

Harames’ story was a strange one. A man who didn’t
believe in banks, he had made it a habit to bring his receipts
home in his truck every night. He worked late in his store.
and he rarely got home before one o’clock in’ the morning.
This morning he had driven up to his house, opened the gates
to the driveway, and stepped back into the car to put the
truck away. He had just put the truck in gear when the bandit
had come to the window.

“He said: ‘Stick ’em up,’ ” Harames told Lamoureux. “After
that I can’t remember anything.”

A’ doctor came into the room and waved Lamoureux away
from the bed. The chief thanked the doctor for allowing
him to question Harames, then drove back to headquarters.

Poulsen reported soon after he arrived. The truck’s head-
lights had been on, both doors had been open, and the ignition

ETRE Ee WERE OE


Roll to Deatly

(continued)

Officer Whitney “Spike” Rosaaen,
Poulsen’s assistant om the case.

had been turned, although the motor was dead. On a ledge
near the right door Moll had found a .32 calibre shell.

“Probably matches the slug Ashman found,” Lamoureux
said.

“Td say so,” Poulsen replied. “There wasn’t any blood in
the truck, and we questioned all the neighbors. Nobody but
DuPuis heard the shots—but I imagine the rest of them
were asleep.” .

“No blood in the truck,” Lamoureux said thoughtfully..

“How do you account for that?”

“I: don’t know what Harames told you at the hospital, but
the way I figure it the thief came up to the truck and stood
by the right door. He yanked the door open and told Harames
to reach for the sky, and Harames got so. scared he took his
foot off the clutch. When that happened the car lurched
forward and the bandit lost his nerve. After he was shot,
Harames fell out of the left side of the truck and did all
his bleeding on the ground.”

Common Knowledge
“That sounds pretty good,” Lamoureux said. “Do you
want to make any other bets on this case?”
“A couple of things are pretty easy,” Poulsen: said. “The

44 guy who pulled this job knew plenty about Harames. He

knew the old man carried a lot of money around, and he
knew he came back late at night. He must have been waiting
ina car parked down the block, probably near DuPuis’ place.
There are skid marks on the street around there, and that
looks like a car shooting off. That’s about all I can do. Is
there any chance that the old man will pull through?”

“Not much. The doctors give him twenty-four hours, but
no more.”

“That makes it murder now, so far as I’m concerned.”

“Right.” Lamoureux turned in his chair. “And it’s your
baby. You're in charge.”

Early the next morning Harry Harames died and the case
went into the books as murder. It was a rare occurrence in
San Leandro, a large suburb of 27,000 people east of metro-
politan Oakland. San Leandro is one of ten cities on the
eastern border of San:Francisco Bay. The area is heavily
populated, and the police of each of the cities maintain a
close liaison with Alameda County authorities in Oakland;
a killer can travel from one city to another by streetcar. A
teletype message on the shooting had gone to police in‘all ten
cities a few minutes after the discovery of the wounded
Harames, and now a general alarm was issued on the state-
wide hookup.

Poulsen chose Officer Whitney “Spike” Rosaaen to work

Harry Ha:

with him on
labor to tur
They questi
list of his
distrusted |
pockets; no
“That’s a
you're goin
keep quiet
town who |
have room
Rosaaen
going to sti
good.”
“We've 5
bullet and t
their ballist
“How sox
“Tomorr
a gun for «
to Harames
looks out ¢
friends was
the funeral.


ney around, and he
st have been waiting
near DuPuis’ place.
und there, and that
ut all I can do. Is
ull through?”

snty-four hours, but

’m concerned.”
ur. “And it’s your

died and the case
rare occurrence in
ople east of metro-
ten cities on the
he area is heavily
cities maintain a
rities in Oakland;
er by streetcar, A
to police in all ten
of the wounded
sued on the state-

Rosaaen to work

»

See ee
“SONS RRS BS ae
4-0” Giteaaaes < si ott

2 oe”

ae

Harry Harames’ home in San Leandro. The old man was shot as he pulled his pickup truck into driveway.

with him on the case, and the two men put in two days of solid
labor to turn up the fact that there was no useful evidence.
They questioned Harames’ employes and went through a long
list of his friends. Everyone knew that the dead man had
distrusted banks and had carried his receipts home in his
pockets; nobody knew much more about his habits.

“That’s a dangerous business,” Poulsen told Rosaaen. “If
you're going to carry a lot of mongy around, you'd better
keep quiet about it. If we’re going to pick up everybody in
town who knew about Harames’ distrust of banks, we. won’t
have room in the jail for criminals.”

Rosaaen grinned. “It was a pretty sure bet somebody was
going to stick him up some time. That doesn’t do us much
good.”

“We've got two things,” Poulsen said thoughtfully, “the
bullet and the shell. I sent the slug to the Oakland police, and
their ballistics people ought to have something for us soon.”

“How soon?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I guarantee you that we won’t have
a gun for comparison by then. Your job tomorrow is to go
to Harames’ funeral and keep an eye out for anybody who
looks out of place. There’s a chance that one of Harames’
friends was responsible for this, and he’d probably show it at
the funeral. I'll go to Oakland and have a talk with ballistics.”

Rosaaen went to‘the funeral with Captain Steve Lago-
marsino. Both officers were dressed in plain clothes, and both
kept themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Their first break
came before the funeral had begun, when a tall man about
forty years old stepped out of a car before the mortuary,
looked around at the crowd, climbed back into his car and
went off.

“Tail him,” Lagomarsino said. Rosaaen jumped into an
unmarked police car and followed the suspect to an Oakland
rooming house. He watched the man go to his room, then
had a talk with the landlady. After an hour of questioning
in the neighborhood he was sure he was on the wrong trail:
the tall man had a good reputation and an all-night job. He
couldn’t have. been roaming the streets of San Leandro in
the early morning.

While Rosaaen was chasing the wrong man through an
Oakland residential district Poulsen was closeted with Assist-
ant Criminologist Patrick Fuller of the Oakland Policé De-
partment.

“It’s a good slug,” Fuller said. “Well defined grooves. If
you find the gun we’ll have no trouble with a jury.”

“What kind of gun .am I after?” Poulsen asked.

“That’s the trouble. It isn’t an American gun—the lands
are too wide for that. I’m pretty sure (Continued on page 91)

AS


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Pt Ba

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irned with

he murder
Le Basque
searching,
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Power and
case was

iplete con-
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King was
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page 6)

en greater
rages over
ised in con-
ies. Sound
onfessing to
vould weigh
direct result
d fewer ac-

prepared, it
confessions
pected, and
at they had
hird degree
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in Pennsyl-
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ttle was as

ature of the
session, the
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They heard
{ and state-
of the men
ir—and_ this
ir challenge

lict was

yoth de-

snced to

ohary.
is the thing
records, like

cay

it’s Belgian, and it’s obviously a .32. I’ve
made a list of Belgian firms that make .32
calibre revolvers and automatics, and you'll
have to work from that.”

Poulsen took the list and returned to
San Leandro to meet Rosaaen. The two
detectives went the rounds of Harames’
employes, friends and relatives again, but
nobody owned or had owned a Belgian
revolver. Following the interviews Poul-
sen sent men through the gun stores and
pawn shops, but there had been no Bel-
gian gun sold in San Leandro for many
years. In other cities around the bay other

_officers hunted through the stores for a
lead to the killer, but after three days of
fruitless searching they gave up. Harames’
murderer seemed to have made a clean
escape.

In the Lineup

The first break in the case came more
than two months later. On November 10
a tall young man entered a service station
at 165 Avenue in Hayward and ordered
Gus Pappas, the proprietor, out of his
way. Pappas resisted the robbery and the
bandit beat him over the head with a tire
iron. Not seriously injured, Pappas.called
the police shortly after his assailant left.

Deputy Sheriff Richard Condon of the
Hayward substation answered the call and
took descriptions of the bandit from Pap-
pas and two young women who had seen
the assault from outside the station. Going
through his files, Condon recognized the
description as that of Harold Sexton, a 22-
year-old resident of Hayward who had

been gathering a reputation as a hoodlum..

He had been in continual trouble with the
police, but he had not been convicted
of any serious crime.

Sexton was picked up and put into a
police lineup, and Pappas picked him out
immediately. The tall, curly-haired thug
laughed at the identification and denied
any part in the robbery, for which he was
later acquitted. Condon threw him back
into the clink; he had bigger fish to fry.

He called Lamoureux. “I’ve got a guy
here who matches your bulletin on the
Harames case,” Condon. said..“We- picked.
him up on a robbery charge, and I’d say
he’s guilty as sin. He’s got a bad name
in town, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he
turned out to be your man.”

“Tl be right over,” Lamoureux said.
The chief called Poulsen and the two de-
tectives drove over to Hayward. Condon
gave them a room and sat in on the
questioning.

“What about this service station busi-
ness?” Lamoureux asked Sexton. “You say
you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“That’s right.”

“If you weren't slugging Pappas, where
were you?” :

“I went to a movie.”

“Good movie?” Poulsen asked.

“Wonderful movie, copper. You ought
to see it yourself.”

“Go to the movies often?”

“Sure.”

“What about the night of September
first?” Lamoureux asked. ““Go to a movie
that night?”

“Nah. I was down in Salinas, looking
“for work. Couldn’t find a job anywhere.
That’s when I decided to come back here
and enlist in the Army. They turned me
down.”

“That’s too bad,” Poulsen murmured.
“If you’d gone into the Army you could’ve

Be ee

Death

etectivew-«

had a gun. You don’t have any guns now,
do yqu?”

“No. You can search the house.”

“We will,” Poulsen said, “but thanks
for your permission. Did you ever own
a gun?” J

“Sure, I’ve had a couple of guns, What's
that to you?”

“What kind of guns? Belgian guns?”

Sexton’s eyes shifted from Poulsen to
Lamoureux and back again. “I had a Bel-
gian gun,” he said finally. “A thirty-two.
I sold it in Salinas.”

“Do you remember who bought it?”

“Guy who runs a card room down
there.” Sexton described the gambler and
gave the general location of the card room;
then he clammed up and refused to answer
questions.

“That’s a pretty fishy story,” Poulsen
told Lamoureux after the suspect had been
taken back to his cell.

“You never can tell.” Lamoureux picked
up the telephone and put in a call to
Chief of Police George C. Weight in
Salinas. An hour later Sexton’s story
sounded worse than ever: Weight had been
through his city with a posse of detec-
tives, and he had failed to turn up the man
or the card room described in Sexton’s
story.

“I say it stinks,” Poulsen told La-
moureux, .

“So do I, but that doesn’t do us much
good. The fact that Weight couldn’t turn
up our man doesn’t mean he isn’t there.
Card room operators keep clear of the
police, and this guy wasn’t going to walk
into Weight’s office and tell him all about
a customer. Sexton’s a liar, but. we’ve got
to prove it.”

Lamoureux had Sexton called in from
his cell and put the suspect through an
hour’s grilling. At the end of the hour
he still had nothing to work with. He let
Condon keep the suspect on the assault
charge and went back to San Leandro,

Throughout: the Bay area police went to
work on underworld informers to get some
link between Sexton and the Harames
murder. Nothing could be found to im-
plicate. Sexton, but om December-~fifth an
informer brought Rosaaen a new tip.

“There’s a guy named Freddie Wilson
in Hayward,” the informer said. “He was
going around yapping. about..robberies a
while back, and he’s tall enough to be the
‘man you want. That’s all I know.”

Whisky and Soda

Rosaaen traced Wilson from Hayward
to Richmond, a suburb northwest of Oak-
land. Richmond police picked him up on
— in the Harames murder and put
him through the wringer, but he came up
with an unshakeable alibi. -His manner
under questioning was so nervous, however,
that the Richmond officers decided he knew
more than he was telling.

After a six hour siege Wilson came
across. “I think I know the guy you're
after, and I’m not going to risk my skin
for him. I’ve never been on a job with him,
anyway. His name is Grover Miller, and
he lives over George and Mary’s Bar in
Oakland. You want him on half a dozen
stickups.”

“What kind of stickups?”

“He’s your whisky and soda bandit
who’s been getting all the publicity,”
Wilson said.

The whisky and soda bandit had pulled
more than a dozen robberies in San Fran-

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Lillian Shaver
eft, above). The
ctive seeress who
unable to foretell
wh dreadful doom.

was the fiend
snsible for her
trange murder?

right, above) In-
tor H. A. Sum-
s, who played a
ninent part in the
-stigation, points to
body of Mrs.
ver as it lies in
bedroom closet of
her home

By Chief of the

Homicide Bureau

JAMES
GOODNIGHT

Oakland, California
Police Department

As told to JACK DE WITT

T_was in the evening of September !1th, 1934, when
Patrolman M. C. Danielson encountered a little chap
playing in a public park at Seventh and Market Streets
in Oakland, California. With every other item of in-
formation in connection with this weird case, | have

preserved the report which the policeman filed with his
desk sergeant at the Oakland Police Department on the
morning of September 12th. It read:

Six p. M. Sept. 11th, in aity park Seventh and Market.
Found four-year-old boy playing. Note on blouse at-
tracted me. Note read: “This boy’s mother is Mrs. Lil-
lian Shaver, 2326 Telegraph Avenue.’ Returned boy to
that address and left him in charge of R. G. Lee, apart-
ment manager, who said boy’s parents not home at the
time.

This report was placed on my desk in the homicide bureau
on the morning of September 12th. At first glance there
seemed nothing in it to interest a homicide squad. But an
attached note, stating that Inspectors Thomas H. Evans
and H. A. Summers from the central station were already


(Below) A portion of the note found in the } L

dresser drawer of Mrs. Shaver’s bedroom. ‘

A note that was to add to the mystery the :
detectives faced , EAs

=
X
~~

g
\

£ t
i
(Right) A police inspector examines cloth- \
ing in the S“sordered bedroom where the
death struggle took place, in the hope of on

finding clues

there, urged me to hurry to the address at once. boys and a little girl stared mutely at me with red-
| skipped hurriedly through the rest of the thin rimmed, frightened eyes. The police inspectors were
file. Officer Danielson had concluded quite naturally there but my concern at the moment was the story
| that the small boy was a habitual runaway, and which a reporter from an Oakland newspaper and
that his parents had hit upon the unusual: but quite his photographer were unfolding.
sound idea of the note to assure his safe return.
Newspaper reporters, scenting a pleasant and happy “WE came to get pictures and a story on the lost
little feature story to lighten the day’s grim grist, kid found with a note Lgetan to his blouse.”
had gone to the address after reading the police- His customary geniality an pleasant smile had
man’s report. slipped from Ed Soderberg, the reporter; nervous
| glanced at the final pencilled paragraph in the fingers fumbled with a pencil stub as he talked. In
list of events that had transpired in 7 ast hour. his eyes I could see the glint of excitement, the
Here was the reason for my being called into the bright alertness of the reporter who has stumbled
case. The reporters and inspectors had found at into a story of the first magnitude. ~
the Telegraph Avenue address the dead body of a “We found the three kids trying to get break-
woman! fast,” he resumed. “The oldest one, the little girl,
The police siren cleared our way through the — said that their folks hadn’t been home all night.
morning traffic in Oakland’s narrow downtown We saw blood on the wall and floor here and so we
streets. At 2326 Telgqzamt Avenue, a shabby, two- - looked around. A closet in the bedroom was nailed
story apartment building, | brought the car to a UP. Two new nails: were in it. We took a hunch

stop. from the signs and telephoned the station.”
Two minutes later 1 was standing in the blood- Keith Dennison, «the newspaper pheiegrer
spattered bedroom of a ground-floor apartment, lis- took up the story: “We prevented the kids from

tening to the remaining details in this bizarre in- seeing it when Evans and Summers pried open the
vestigation. door. The corpse was in the cubby-hole. It’s’ their
| had passed through a kitchen where two small mother.”

32


,

S HA VE i

Mrs. Lillian Shaver
(at left, above). The
attractive seeress who
1 Be)  . was unable to foretell
i : CSN aia) , nk her own dreadful doom.
| bie, . hikes oy . Rs : Who was the fiend
| 7 Z Rat responsible for her
strange murder?

(At right, above) In-
spector H. A. Sum-
mers, who played a
prominent part in the
investigation, points to
the body of Mrs.
Shaver as it hes in
the bedroom closet of
her home

q

alifornia’s

rappims ¢

te easier ‘

ley Rit Abii? a: se

Fortune Teller’s Doom! 33

I glanced at his camera and knew that the two
skilled newsmen had worked quickly. 1 knew also
that neither of them had disturbed a thing in the
house of death which could possibly carry a clue.

There was a slight stir in the kitchen as the two
police inspectors and a civilian quietly moved the
children from the oe. A woman at the
door took charge of the youngsters and the civilian
returned to the kitchen.

“That’s Lee, the apartment manager,” supplied
the reporter, catching my glance. “He’s got some
good dope.”

Sunlight from the window glinted on a glass
oa atop a dresser. | moved toward it curiously.

he object was a crystal gazer’s ball, set on a
small black base. I stared at it a moment, wonder-
ing what part it had played in the lives of the per-
sons most affected by this latest Oakland murder.

On top of the polished sphere was a tiny splash
of blood. Near the ball was a deck of cards, op
for the pseudo science of the fortune teller. The
cards and crystal ball furnished me my first men-
tal picture of the type of persons who had occu-

”

pied this apartment. I left the room after another
lance at the disordered bed, the blood-stained
oor.

With: Inspectors Evans and Summers and the
two newsmen I stood and looked through the door
of a cubby-hole clothes closet. The corpse of a
woman was cramped in there, its glazed eyes star-
ing out at us. The body was clad only in a flimsy
bit of blood-stained sifken lingerie and stockings.

THAT she had been brutally and viciously set
upon, I could see by the torn and stained lin-
gerie, and by half a dozen gaping wounds in her
abdomen and. breasts.

She was a blonde. | judged her age to be be-
tween twenty-five and thirty, as near as age can
be told when blind brutality has brought a score
of years of terror and suffering into the few minutes
of death’s attack.

No need to conjecture on the length of time that
had elapsed since this woman died. The children
could furnish time elements.

The two officers had lost no time since they first

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in ransom, and the $15,000 worth of
jewelry which formed part of the ransom
found by Cuban Secret Police in Johnson's
custody. We have proof that Johnson spent
some of the ransom money in various
places.”

Johnson himself made no public state-
ment and neither have the police issued
any subsequent ones as the result of inter-
views they have had with him.

On May 7th, State’s Attorney Glenn C.
Mincer placed his evidence before a Dade
county grand jury. That august body
promptly returned an indictment of kid-
naping against Johnson, Mincer declared
that in his opinion the indictment also
covered the act of extortion. ;

Johnson’s trial has been set: for July
14th in,the Dade County circuit court in
Miami. ,

BLOOD IN CRYSTAL BALL

(Continued from page 19)

But he vehemently denied that he had
been guilty of anything other than indis-
cretion. He had considered the seeress a
charming woman, had been extremely at-
tracted to her. That, he argued, was hardly
a reason for killing her.

Inspector Box was unable to break the
man’s story down. Nevertheless, he took
him back to Oakland for further interro-
gation. ‘

There, the man stuck firmly to his story.
Moreover, it was easily demonstrated that

vas a solid citizen in his community,
having had any sort of criminal

the meantime the laboratory tech-

ins had after a gerat deal of difficulty

managed to make two clear fingerprints

from the bloody hand mark on the wall of

the murder room. These prints in no wise

resembled those of the spiritualist farmer.
He was released two days later.

Still, and this was five days since the
killing, not the faintest trace had been
found of Louis Shaver. The first instinct
‘of the police had been to consider him
innocent. because of the love poem written
to him by his wife on the day she was
killed. But this prolonged absence now
made him the natural suspect.

Inspector Goodnight returned to the
house on Telegraph Avenue, going through
it carefully to see if the officers had over-
looked anything on their last visit.

This time the Inspector overlooked
nothing. He emptied the wastepaper bas-
kets. He looked under the. threadbare
carpets. He searched the pillowcases and
the upholstery of the chairs. He even
delved into the garbage can.

“It was from the upstairs bedroom win-
dow that he saw the torn fragments of
paper in the gutter of the roof. He re-
trieved them.

At first he thought he had come upon
another poem written by the dead woman.
But as he looked more closely he realized
that the handwriting was not the same.
Laboriously he. pieced the fragments to-
gether on top of a table.

the torn missive but after an hour’s labor
Goodnight managed to understand the gist
of the damning message.

It read:

wrong. I have been trying to make up
with you but you wouldn’t, You tried to
put me in‘prison so you could have your
lover with you. But God will take care
of you when the time comes. I will leave

a curse on you the rest of your life.. Hope

There were still some missing pieces of .

"Lillian: You have done me a great

you will go through what'I have gone
through and that you never have a day's
luck as long as you live and if I can come
back I will haunt you to death, I will
try and return the sorrow you have caused
me. Goodbye. .

It was signed Louis and there was a
P.S. which added: | hope they take your
children away from you, for you are a
disgrace to them and me. And may God
punish you for the wrong you have done.

Goodnight blinked. He had read enough:
suicide notes in his life to recognize this
as one. Had Shaver killed himself? Had
he killed his wife first?

Goodnight returned to headquarters,
showed the note to Chief Wallman and
Inspector Box. .

“It seems,” said Wallman, “that Shaver
intended to kill himself. Then decided to
kill his wife instead.”

Box nodded. “And there’s that ref-
erence to trying to put him in jail. But
he has no police record here. Maybe we
ought to check with Troy, New York.
That’s where they came from.”

Oakland immediately got in touch with
the Troy pojice. They learned that sev-
eral months ago Louis Shaver had been
convicted on a charge of assault. He had
been fined $20. Moreover, the charge had
been preferred by his wife, Lillian.

Wallman requested that Troy at once
airmail a set of Shaver’s fingerprints.

Since Inspector Box had worked con-
tinuously on the case for more than twenty
hours, Chief Wallman relieved him, dis-
patching Inspectors Ed Summers and Pete
Connolly to Telegraph Avenue to complete
the intensive search begun by Box.

Within an hour these two officers dis-
covered a hole in the bricks behind the
stove. Inside the hole was a_ bloody
sweater and a long bladed knife. On the
knife’s handle were two smudged and gory
fingerprints.

When Shaver’s imprints arrived from
Troy they were compared with those on
the knife and the hand mark on the wall.
They matched exactly.

Chief Wallman had obtained a detailed
description of the missing man from Shav-
er’s next-door neighbor. Among other
items of information was the fact that
Shaver was heavily tattooed. The name of
his dead wife, Lillian, was printed in blue
and red upon his left forearm.

The Oakland Police Department printed
hundreds of circulars bearing Shaver’s
description and sent them out to all the
coastal states, Nevada, Idaho and Montana.
But as time went by it appeared that this

had been wa

No one ap
of Louis Sh
Another six |
was still at |

OSSIBLY
were it
The first of
thoroughly e
counts of n
twelve year
Lillian.
“Carlsen v
worked in S
hard and wi
and daughte
and avid re:
It was Cz
at a moderz
Avenue. H
employes.
On a di
Carlsen sat
of coffee, li:
fondly of !
to be pate
wallet fron
a photogra;
“Take a
kid, eh? H
The cot
proval and
Had a girl
toward the
the stove.
the name !
Carlsen
as Mac M:
Lillian wa
At that in
sen’s m!:
short «
That +
saw a fe
tattooed o
half ago :
wife in (
Lillian. A
it said tha’
on him.”
His . wi
police?”
“Not y:
want to
But tome
brary anc
want to r
Pete C
library.
room co!
He left a!
headquar
Detect
went alo:
Carlsen
Dailey I
to the sh
It’s all o
_ Louis
nor argu
is suddei
den. H:


rey Glenn C.
efore a Dade
uugust body
adictment of kid-
Mincer declared
: indictment also
tion. .
een set: for July
y circuit court in

SE et ne ne
at'I have gone
‘er have a day's
id if I can come
2? death. I will
you have caused

id there was a
they take your
for you are a
And may God
you have done.
ad read enough:
recognize this
himself? Had

headquarters,
Wallman and

, “that Shaver
ien decided to

re’s that ref-
n in jail. But
‘ec. Maybe we

New York.

ich with
uvu Wat sev-
ver had been
sault. He had
1¢ charge had
lian,
{roy at once
3erprints.
worked con-
2 than twenty
ed him, dis-
‘ers and Pete
2 to complete
Box.
Officers dis-
' behind the
3 a bloody
ife. On the
‘ed and gory

trived from
th those on
on the wall.

1a detailed
from Shav-
10ng other
> fact that
he name of
ted in blue

ent printed
z Shaver’s
to all the
1 Montana.
d that this

had been wasted effort.

No one apparently had found any trace
of Louis Shaver at the end of a year.
Another six months went by and the killer
was still at large,

POSSIBLY he would be at large today

were it not for two fortuitous facts.
The first of these was that Pete Carlsen
thoroughly enjoyed reading newspaper ac-
counts of murder cases and second, his
twelve year old daughter's name was
Lillian.

‘Carlsen was a laborer who lived and
worked in Seattle, Washington. He worked
hard and was extremely found of his wife
and daughter. His avocation was constant
and avid reading of all crime’ news.

It was Carlsen’s custom to eat his lunch
at a moderate priced restaurant on Fourth
Avenue. He was well known to all its
employes.

On a day in late February of 1936,
Carlsen sat smoking over his second cup
of coffee, listening as the counterman spoke
fondly of his two children. Carlsen, not
to be paternally outdone, pulled a worn
wallet from his hip pocket and withdrew
a photograph of his own child.

“Take a look at that,” he said. “Some
kid, eh? Her name’s Lillian.”

The counterman looked, nodded ap-
proval and said, “I like the name Lillian.
Had a girl by that name once.” He pointed
toward the short order cook, standing at
the stove. “I guess Mac did, too. That’s
the name he’s got tattooed on his arm.”

Carlsen glanced at the man he knew
as Mac McDonald. Sure enough the word
Lillian was printed on his left forearm.
At that instant something clicked in Carl-
sen’s mind—something which signed the
short order cook’s death warrant.

That night Carlsen said to his wife, “J
saw a fellow today with the name Lillian
tattooed on his arm. About a year and a
half ago there was a guy who killed his
wife in Oakland. His wife was called
Lillian. And in. the published description
it said that this guy had that name tattooed
on him.”

His . wife asked, “Did you tell the
police?”

“Not yet. I want to make sure. I don’t
want to get an innocent guy in trouble.
But tomorrow Pm going to the public li-
brary and look through the old Papers. |
want to read that description again.”

Pete Carlsen went ‘to Seattle’s public
library. He spent twenty minutes in the
room containing the old newspaper files.
He left abruptly and went directly to police
headquarters. There he told his story,

Detectives C. V. Dailey and M. Zuarri
went along with Carlsen to the lunchroom.
Carlsen pointed out Mac McDonald.
Dailey leaned over the counter. He said
to the short order cook, “Come on Shaver.
It’s all over.”

, Louis Shaver offered neither resistance
nor argument. He sighed like a man who
is suddenly relieved of a tremendous bur-
den. He said tonelessly, “I knew you’d

get me some day. But I didn’t know when.
I've just been waiting.” e

Escorted to headquarters, Shaver was
questioned by Detective Captain Ernest
Yoris.

“We had a fight that day. I felt sure
that she'd been running around with the
men who came to her for readings. I was
so disturbed about it, ’'d decided to kill
myself. I sent two of the kids to the
movies. And I got little Louis out of the
house by telling him to go to the park. I
put that sign around his neck in case he
got lost.

Shaver accepted the Cigarette Yoris gave
him. He lit it with nervous fingers and
continued.

“Just before I tried to kill myself Lillian
came into my room. When I accused her
of being unfaithful to me, she just laughed.
She sneered at me because I hadn’t been
working much, She said it was she who
had been Supporting the family,”

“And,” suggested Yoris, “you lost your
temper and killed her.”

“I killed her,” admitted Shaver. “But
it was self-defense. She lost her temper
first. She came at me with that butcher
knife. I grabbed a length of iron pipe
and knocked her down, I don’t clearly

remember what happened after that. It’s

all kind of hazy.”

“You don’t recall Stabbing her several
times in the chest?”

Shaver shook his head. “AIL I recall is
that I saw her lying on the floor covered
with blood. I picked her up and put her
in the closet. I didn't want the kids to
come home and find her like that.”

Louis Shaver waived extradition. Three
days later he was back in Oakland, There,
he was formally charged with murder. in
the first degree.

When brought to trial in the Superior
Court before Judge Frank M. Ogden,
Shaver’s attorney argued that his client
was guilty only of voluntary manslaughter
murder committed in the heat of passion.

But there was no evidence produced by

‘the defense to indicate that Lillian Shaver

had ever been unfaithful to her husband,
And the police record from Troy certainly
indicated that he had treated her brutally
at least once before.

The case went to the jury on May 4th,
1936. It took the twelve men only three
hours to reach their verdict, which was
one of guilty, minus any recommendation
for mercy.

On that same day Judge Ogden sen-
tenced Louis Shaver to be hanged in San
Quentin Prison. The execution was duly
performed in the early dawn of January
ISth, 1937,

If, on that tragic day of September
11th, 1934, Lillian Shaver had actually
seen blood in her crystal ball, she was
probably a far better psychic than any of
her customers imagined.

Eprror’s Nore: The names Roy Hall
and Pete Carlsen used in the foregoing
Story are fictitious, .

Read about this new Florida case:
CLUE OF THE DEAD MAN’S POCKET

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49


=

strings of
vy, strain~-
the surge
ced on the
vad termi-
e the soup
the early

‘he nation’s
5; the giant
ombly belts
on like un-
yf a storm.
4 to thrive.
41 window of
\ame Shaver.
vader. Solves
jdential.”

it was not
‘ance of better
era of gloom.
day and night,

1 , : :
ney ith Lillian.

‘th never a dark

1a several oan.
mantic dreams 2

Lillian Shaver’s smile drew men
to her. One was a killer

SRystat BAY”

Lillian’s prediction that a tall woman -with brown hair
and brown eyes would soon become part of their lives.
By the second week in September, business was booming,

and if some of Lillian’s callers tried to overstep the bounds:

of customer relationship, at least they left their money
and came hurrying back with more. Lillian gave promise
of becoming Oakland’s one-woman cure for the national
pessimism.

With it all, Lillian was a good mother, who took her
four-year-old son, Louis, into the park at Seventh and
Jackson each day, though she sometimes left him alone
with the other children while she hurried away for an
hour or two on mysterious business of her own.

It was about 7:30 on the night of September 11th, when
the chill winds were sweeping in off the bay, that a pa-
troling policeman found the numbed little boy in thin
overalls wandering aimlessly in the park, weeping and
calling for his mother. The officer sat down on a park
bench, took the-littlé boy on his knee. ‘“What’s the
matter, young fellow? Can’t find your way home in the
dark?” The boy just blubbered. The officer fished out
a pencil flashlight, shined it over the youngster.

A piece of white paper fluttered on the boy’s blouse,
attached with a safety pin. The officer unhooked it, read
the carefully printed message: ‘‘This boy’s mother is Mrs.
Lillian Shaver of 2326 Telegraph Avenue, Oakland.”

The cop grinned. “A tegular runaway, eh? At least a
two-time loser? Well, Buffalo Bill is a long way off, so
we’d better go home for tonight and start out tomorrow
when there’s daylight.”

But nobody answered the doorbell at 2326 Telegraph
Avenue. Patrolman Danielson took the small boy next
door, to R. G. Lee, the Shavers’ landlord.

“IT don’t know where the family could be,” Lee said,
puzzled. “I’ve never known anybody to pin little Louis’
address to his blouse before. He isn’t a runaway, that I
know of.” Lee agreed to keep Louis till his parents or

older brother and sister returned home to take charge.

Like everything else, news, too, was slow in Oakland.
Willie Hale, veteran police reporter, phoned Sherman
Carash, assistant city editor of The Tribune the next
morning with a rundown of the night blotter at police
headquarters. Same old thing—nothing to take people’s

’ minds off their daily miseries.

The report of.a small boy whose tepeated wanderlust
seemed to necessitate his family’s adorning him with a re-
turn address, sounded to Carash like the only human in-
terest story for the afternoon edition. He assigned Ed
Soderberg and “Doc’’ Rogers, reporter and photographer,
to run out to the Shaver home and interview and photo-
graph little Louis and his parents. :

The neighborhood, two blocks from the main business
district, consisted of old frame houses flaked with peeling
paint and small, neighborhood stores with upstairs apart-
ments. A thin, dirty-faced little girl, who obviously had
been crying, answered the doorbell at Number 2326.

“My mother and. father aren’t home,” she replied to
Soderberg’s question. .

He explained, “We’re from the newspaper. We’ve come
to take Louis’ picture, and write a story about his getting
lost last night.” ;

The girl sniffed. “I’m Frances, Louis’ sister. I’m so
worried about Mama and Papa—they didn’t come home all
night.” She began to cry again.

Soderberg wiped away the girl’s tears with his handker-
chief and entered the house. A small parlor to the right
of a stairway leading to the second floor was furnished with
four plain chairs and an oak settee. A crystal gazer’s ball
stood on a center table with a green tablecloth. An arch-
way in the wall to the left, covered with heavy black drapes,
led into what appeared to be Madame Shaver’s seance
room, The place looked in need of a vacuuming. Dirty
dishes filled the sink in the kitchen.

- Frances pointed to a bed in a corner of the kitchen near

A ea

SHAVER , Louis white : :
hanzed Sa
1/15/1937 ee R ’ LG, nged San Quentin (Alameda County). on

Lillian was obsessed with the premonition that she

was doomed to a violent end, for she saw

 _eaTH IN THE

by BRADFORD D. JONES

'
| He’d lived for a year and a CEAN-GOING FREIGHTERS bobbed like strings of L
|. half in the shadow of fear. QO empty bottles on the white crests of the bay, strain- ‘
Now he was glad it was over ing at the hawsers that held them against the surge =
of the tides. Tank cars by the thousands, rusted on the a

sidings at Oakland’s three transcontinental railroad termi- of
nals. Men, spiritless as oxen, queued up before the soup ad
kitchens lining Seventh Street, shivering in the early of

autumn.

It had been this way for five years now. The nation’s Be
business mired in its own economic quicksands; the giant to
electric generators silent, the streams of assembly belts is
stationary; hungry, frustrated men and women like un- wi
sheltered. animals in the whipping winds of a storm. ies

i In all Oakland, only one person appeared to thrive.

The black-and-white placard in the curtained window of the
the narrow, two-story frame house read, “Madame Shaver. tro
Spiritual Adviser, Psychic Medium, Card Reader. Solves ove
Life’s Problems and Difficulties. Strictly Confidential.” cal

If the fortuneteller’s service was phony, it was not ber
wholly bad. Lillian Shaver’s comforting assurance of better maces
times to,come filled a natural void in an era of gloom. dar

' Waiting men and women filled her anteroom day and night, ap
and if, after a time, her clients became almost wholly A
male, it was not to be wondered at. Lillian was young, atts

tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed, and symmetrical. She th .

| had arrived from Troy, New York, three months before, Lilli
with her husband, Louis, and her three small children. T

| Fortune shone upon her almost at once. two
aa prophecy in the crystal ball cost a dollar, a seance we'c

with the spirits in a darkened room two dollars, a reading whe
| of the tea leaves or a prognostication in the cards 50 cents. Bi
| But the ghostly wraiths were never so friendly, the atmos- Aver
| phere never so cozy as when one was alone with Lillian. door
And palm reading became a pleasure, with never a dark “ey

| prophecy to spoil the illusion. nies
For Peter Viroukis, Russell Hannock and several others, addr:

bined with romantic dreams at know

the escape from reality com

46

Soflaaku PR / 15

Cal.) PEOPLE y,

the laws ef Alaska, and only upon such terms
as the laws of Alaska prescribe. And as at
common law there was no right of action for
an injury causing death, and as the courts of
this state do not take judicial notice of the
laws of foreign states, it is necessary for the
Plaintiff to plead and prove such law. Thus
it is said in Wickersham y., Johnston, 104 Cal.
407, 38 Pac. 89, 43 Am. St. Rep. 118, quoting
from Liverpool Co. y. Phenix Ins. Co., 129 U.
S. 445, 9 Sup. Ct. 469, 32 L. Ed. 788: “The
law of Great Britain since the Declaration
of Independence is the law of a foreign coun-
try, and, like any other foreign law, is matter
of fact, which the courts of this country can-
not be presumed to be acquainted with, or to
have judicial knowledge of, unless it is plead-
ed and proved.” “There being no right of
action at common law for an injury causing
death, the plaintiff in such an action must
Specifically aver and prove that the laws of
the state where the injury occurred permit
Such an action.” 8 Am. & Eng. Ency. of Law,
880; 18 Cyc. 345.

But it is equally well settled that, not only
must the law of the foreign state be pleaded
to show that in that forum there existed the
right of action sued upon, but also it must be
Pleaded to show that the action is brought
by the person in whom, under the laws of the
foreign jurisdiction, the right of action is
vested, and this because, as is said in Dennick
Vv. Railway, Supra, where this subject is con-
Sidered, the court which renders the judg-
ment can only do so by virtue of the foreign
statute. Generally that power is given to the
personal representative of the deceased. The
laws of this state are broader in this respect,
and confer the same right upon the heirs or
next of kin of the deceased. But the right
conferred by our statute can be exercised only
where the cause of action has arisen within
the jurisdiction of this state, and not in cases
Such as this, where the measure of the right
and the form of procedure are those dictated
by a foreign statute. It would follow, there-
fore, that if the right to prosecute an action
Such as this is limited by the laws of the ter-
Titory of Alaska to the personal representa-
tive of the deceased alone, such personal rep-
resentative only could prosecute the action in
this state. In the briefs of counsel for re-
Spondent the laws of the territory of Alaska
are set forth, and it is made to appear that
it ig the personal representative only who
May maintain such an action, and the exist-
ence of this law is urged upon this court asa
Teason in justification of the trial court's rul-
ing dismissing the action. But neither the

trial court nor this court takes judicial notice |

of those laws, and the presentation of them
the brief of counsel cannot be considered
© equivalent of a presentation of them in
evidence. So far, then, as this court can
judicially know, it may be that the laws of
€ territory of Alaska will permit the prose-
Cation of an action in the form here adopted
8nd countenanced by the Code of this state.

|

SIEMSEN, 863

In this view it may be said that teehnically
the trial court fell into error in ordering tne
action dismissed. But, upon the other hand,
plaintiff and appellant did not ask leave to
amend, probably for the reason that, in the
situation of the law, she could not successful-
ly amend. And upon this appeal her counsel
does not contend that by any amendment he
could have obyiated the difficulty. The most
that can be said, then, as to appellant's rights,
is that the irregularity was one without in-
jury, and that an appellate court will in every
Such case sustain the action of the court be-
low, whatever course it may take, unless it
is made to appear by the record that there
has been an abuse of discretion. Stewart vy.
Douglass, 148 Cal. 512, 83 Pac. 699.

The judgment appealed from is therefore
affirmed.

We concur: HENSHAW, J.; SHAW, J.3
ANGELLOTTI, J.; LORIGAN, J.; SLOSS, J.

—_—_——_—
153 Cal. 387
PEOPLE y. SIEMSEN. (Cr. 1,417.)

(Supreme Court of California. April 27, 1908.)

1. INDICTMENT AND INFORMATION—PRELIMI-
NARY PROCEEDINGS—COMMITMENT—ORDET:
—NECEssIty.

vided in section 872, and scction 872 providing
that if it appears from the examination that a
public offense has been committed, and there is
sufficient cause to believe defeudant guilty, the
magistrate must make or indorse on the com-
plaint an order signed by him holding defendant
to answer the charge, the making of such or-
der, signed by the magistrate, is a prerequisite
to the valid filing of an information,

2. CRIMINAL LAW—APPEAL—REVIEW — QUEs-
TIONS OF Fact,

On motion to set aside an information, be-
cause filed before the order had been signed by
the magistrate holding defendant to answer the
charge, whether the order was signed before or
after the filing of the information is a question
of fact to be determined by the trial court. and,
if there is a substantial conflict of evidence on
the point, the conclusion of that court must
stand on appeal.

3. EVIDENCE—PRESUMPTIONS.
The presumptions raised by Code Ciy. Proce.

§ 1963. subd. 15. that an official duty has been
regularly performed, and by subdivision 23 that
a writing is truly dated, while disputable, are
in themselves evidence, and will Support a find-
ing made in accordance with them, though there
be evidence to the contrary.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig,
vol. 20, Ividence, §§ 105, 109.]

4. CRIMINAL Law—CoNnFESSIONS—VoLUNTARY
CHARACTER,

A confession, to be admissible, must be
free and voluntary; that is, it must not be ob-
tained by any sort of threats or violence, nor
by any direct or implied promises, however
slight, nor by the exertion of any improper influ-
ence,

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 14, Criminal Law, §§ 1175-1184.]

0. SAME — DETERMINATION OF QUESTION oF
ADMISSIBILITY.

Whether a confession js free and voluntary

is a preliminary question addressed to the trial]

Cal.) PEOPLE y, SIEMSEN, 865

if there was a substantial conflict of evidence ; been caused by the piece of Pipe found on
on the point, the Conclusion of that court | the floor. They could not have been self-in-

to consider the presumptions raiseq by law. | his Own request, he was confined alone. The
One of these is that “official duty has been public was not permitted to visit him, and
regularly performed” ; another that “g writ- | the police captain in charge of the station
ing is truly dated.” Code Cir. Proe. § 1963, testified that, if an effort had been made, he
Subds. 15, 23. These presumptions, while Would not haye allowed anyone to communi-
disputable, are in themselves evidence (Code cate with him. “At no time,” says this wit-
Civ. Proc. § 2061, subd. 2; People y. Milner, hess, “did he make a request for an attorney
122 Cal. 171, 54 Pac. 833; Sarraille v. Cal- | to be Sent for. If he had asked for a lawyer,
mon, 142 Cal. 651, 76 Pace. 497; Adams v. | I certainly would haye complied with his re-
Hopkins, 144 Cal. 19, 77 Pace. 712; Moore y. quest.” He was not threatened or abused in

finding made in accordance with them, even hess, he was shown more consideration than
though there be evidence to the contrary. It “an ordinary prisoner,” He Was allowed to
was for the trial judge to determine wheth- communicate with his wife by telephone.

er Mr. Greeley’s testimony was sufficiently On the day of the alleged confession Police
convincing to overcome the presumptions (a) | Captain Duke sent for Siemsen. The chief
that the district attorney had properly per- | of police and a detective were present. Capt.
& | Duke said: “Siemsen, [ Suppose you have
/ heard the boys outside calling out, ‘Extra
papers! All about the confession of Dab-

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Munekata was the manager and A. Sasaki the | the police officers had refused to make any
Cashier of the Kimmon Ginko Bank, located | promise whatever, The alleged confession of
at 1588 O’Farrel] Street, in the city of San | Dabner had been reduced to Writing and
Francisco. The banking premises Contained | Duke reaq it to Siemsen. Siemsen stated

Stated that he preferred to consult a lawyer
before making any Statement. The police offi-
cers made no reply to this, and did not send
for an attorney. Duke turned to Dabner and
said, “Dabner, is this true?” and Dabner Said,
“Yes; it is true”; and, looking at Siemsen,
he said: “Jack, you know it is true.” Siem-
Sen hesitated for a few seconds, and finally
Said, “Well, that is the goods, that is true,” or
words to that effect, and shook hands with
the chief of police and with Duke, and there-
upon, at Duke’s Suggestion, signed his name
“John Siemsen” to the statement under the
words, “This Statement is Correct through-
out,” which Duke had first written. Capt.
Duke testified that he did not hold out any in-
ducement to Siemsen with reference to what
he might state and made no promise of leni-
ency, and made no threats, useq no foree,
and did not put him in any fear. Chief of
Police Dinan gave substantially the same tes-

in the private office, and Sasaki in the busi-
hess office. About $2,000 in gold and several]
hundred dollars in silver were Diled in boxes
On a table beside the bank counter, At about

Wrapped in paper. Siemsen and Dabner had
been seen coming out of the bank at about
5 or 10 minutes past 12 o’clock. The injured
men were removed to the emergency hospital,
Where Munekata died within two hours. He
had sustained an extensive fracture of the
Skull, which, with the resultant hemorrhage

finally recovered, and was a witness at the
trial. The injuries were such as might haye

95 P.—55


£
4

LIDIGY] PMO swmsidng eueqery

866

ence Siemsen stated that the confession was
true, and that it was free and voluntary.
Upon this showing, the confession was ad-
mitted in evidence over defendant's objection.
It was in substance ag follows:
morning of October 3d Siemsen and Dabner

left their home together, having planned on |

the preceding day to rob the Japanese bank.
They waited around the bank until they saw
the clerks go away, and then went in. Siem-
sen stopped at the main or front office, and
told the Japanese there (Sasaki) that he
wanted to see the manager. Siemsen and
Dabner went back to the manager’s office,
and Siemsen struck the manager over the
head with a gas pipe which Dabner had
wrapped up in a piece of paper. Then Dab-

ner, following out the plan theretofore agreed |

on by Siemsen and himself, called the other
Japanese back to the rear office. When he
came back Siemsen struck him over the head
Several times, and he fell. He then started
to get up and Dabner struck him on the head
with the pipe and he fell again. The defend-
ants went through the till and got about
$2,200, partly in silver and partly in gold,
which they put in a hand satchel. They then

went to a place where they had left a horse |

and buggy in waiting and drove to the stable
where they kept the horse and buggy. The
satchel containing the money was concealed
in a sack of oats.
took it to the room occupied by Slemsen and
himself, and counted it.
spent various sums of this money for clothing
and jewelry; the expenditures being stated
by Dabner in detail. The objection to the ad-
mission of this confession, and of the state-
ments of Siemsen regarding it, was put upon
the ground that the prosecution had failed to
establish that the confession was free and
voluntary on Siemsen’s part, and that, on the
contrary, the preliminary proof showed that
it was made under duress. The objection
was overruled and appellant excepted.

Upon the preliminary showing, which we
have set forth with some fullness, it cannot
be said as matter of law that the trial court
erred in admitting in evidence the confession
of Dabner, together with the statements of
Siemsen regarding it. Undoubtedly the rule

is elementary, even in the absence of consti- |

tutional provisions protecting persons accused

of crime, that “a confession, in order to be |
admissible, must be free and voluntary; that |
is, must not be extracted by any sort of |

threats or violence, nor obtained by any direct
or implied promises, however slight, nor by

the exertion of any improper influence.” 3 |
AS was said |
by this court in People y. Miller, 185 Cal. 69, |

Russell on Crimes (6th Ed.) 478.

67 Pac. 18: “Before any confession of a de-

fendant can be offered in evidence, it must be

shown by the prosecution that it was volun-
tary, and made without any previous induce-
ment or by reason of any intimidation or
threat.” The slightest pressure, whether by
way of inducement to confess, or threat if

95 PACIFIC REPORTER.

That on the |

In the evening Dabner — amounting to either a threat or an induce.

They subsequently |

(Cal,

confession is withheld, is sufficient to require
the exclusion of the confession, Thus the
confession is not admissible, if made in re.
sponse to a statement by one in authority to
the prisoner that “it will be better for him”
to make a full disclosure (People y, Barrie
49 Cal. 343), or to tell all he knows (People i
Thompson, 84 Cal. 598, 24 Pac. 384), or if call.
ed forth by a statement of the Sheriff that he
would do all he could for the prisoner (People
v. Gonzales, 136 Cal. 666, 69 Pae. 487). But
whether a confession is free and voluntary
is a preliminary question addressed to the
trial court and to be determined by it (People
v. Miller, supra), and a considerable measure
of discretion must be allowed that court in
determining it. “The admissibility of such
evidence so largely depends upon the Specia}
circumstances connected with the confession
that it is difficult, if not impossible, to formu-
late a rule that will comprehend all Cases,
As the question is necessarily addressed, jn
the first instance, to the judge, and since hig
discretion must be controlled by all the at.
tendant circumstances, the courts have wisely
forborne to mark with absolute precision the
limits of admission and exclusion.” Hopt y,
Utah, 110 U. S. 574, 583, 4 Sup. Ct. 202, 207, 28
L. Ed. 262.

The testimony above recited shows on the
part of the officers no express utterance

ment. The claim is that Siemsen was placed
in circumstances which necessarily operated
to take from his actions the free and volun-
tary character which is required by the rule
under consideration. Those circumstanceg
are that he was in custody, charged, or to be
charged, with a serious crime, and that he

, was made aware that his co-suspect had made

a confession implicating him. It is establish-
ed law that the mere fact that the confession
was made to a police officer, while the accused
was under arrest, does not necessarily render
the confession involuntary. Hopt v. Utah,
supra; Bram vy. United States, 168 U. 8. 532,
18 Sup. Ct. 183, 42 L. Ed. 568; People y. De-
vine, 46 Cal. 46; People v. Miller, supra; Peo-
ple v. Walker, 140 Cal. 156, 73 Pac. 831. Nor
do we think the mere fact that the accused
Was informed, in the presence of his alleged
accomplice, that the latter had confessed, re-
quires the holding that the ensuing confession
of this defendant was involuntary. It does
not appear that he was, in any Way, made to
believe that his situation would be better if
he confessed, or that it would be worse if he
declined to speak. It may well be that a
Suspect, informed that a co-suspect has con-
fessed, may feel impelled to speak for fear
that silence on his part would give rise to in-
ferences against him. Such fear might well
be enough to take away from his resulting
confession the voluntary character requisite
to its admissibility. But it is also possible
that he may fully understand that he is not
called upon to say anything and that his iat
lence could not be used against him. Here,


= ULE EY

s
ie

pu; ) vlueluL!

864 95 PACIFIC REPORTER. (Cal,

court, and a considerable measure of discretion
must be allowed that court in determining it.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 14, Criminal Law, §§ 1219-1221.]

6. SAME.

Defendant, on being brought before the po-
lice captain, was asked if he had heard of the
confession of his alleged accomplice. to which
he replied that he had, and the police captain
read the same to him. Defendant stated that
parts of it were not true, and specified an en-
tirely unimportant detail. The police captain
then brought in the accomplice, and reread the
confession in the presence of both. Defendant
stated that he preferred to consult a lawyer be-
fore making any statement. To this the police
officers made no reply, and did not send for an
attorney. The police captain turned to the ac-
complice and said, “Is this true?’ to which he
replied, ‘Yes,’ and, looking at defendant, said,
“You know it is true.” Defendant hesitated,
but finally admitted that it was true, and at
the police captain’s suggestion signed his name
to a statement that the confession was true.
While defendant had, up to that time, been kept
in close confinement, he had been placed alone
at his own request, and had not been subjected
to any indignity or unkind treatment. He had
been allowed to communicate with his wife, and
would, if he had desired, have been allowed to
see counsel. Held, that the confession was prop-
erly admitted.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 14, Criminal Law, §§ 1163-1174, 1203-
1206.]

7. SAME—CORROBORATION—ADMISSIBILITY OF

EVIDENCE.

On a trial for murder, evidence to show that
shortly after the murder defendant and his ac-
complice had purchased various articles was ad-
missible, where all the items proved correspond-
ed more or less closely with the amounts which,
according to the confession of defendant’s ac-
complice, assented to by him, had been paid by
them out of the money taken by them, as tend-
ing to corroborate the confession in that partic-
ular, irrespective of whether, before evidence of
the possession of money can be admitted, a
foundation must be made by showing that prior
to the offense defendant was without funds.

[Ed. Note.—For cases in point, see Cent. Dig.
vol. 14, Criminal Law, §§ 1124-1138, 1222-
1226.]

In Bank. Appeal from Superior Court,
City and County of San Francisco; Carroll
Cook, Judge.

John Siemsen was convicted of murder in
the first degree, and, from the judgment of
death pronounced on the verdict and an order
denying a new trial, he appeals. Affirmed.

A. P. Wheelan and J. J. Greeley, for appel-
lant. U. S. Webb, Atty. Gen., J. Charles
Jones, Deputy Atty. Gen., and William H.
Langdon, Dist. Atty., for the People.

SLOSS, J. John Siemsen and Louis Dab-
ner were, by information filed in the superior
court of the city and county of San Francis-
co, charged with the murder of M. Munekata.
Upon a separate trial, Siemsen was found
guilty of murder in the first degree, and he
appeals from the judgment of death pro-
nounced pursuant to the verdict, and from
an order denying his motion for a new trial.

1. Upon being arraigned, the defendant
moved to set aside the information. His mo-
tion was denied, and this ruling is now as-
signed as error. The ground of motion was

that before the filing of the !nformation the
defendant had not been legally committed by
a magistrate, or, more specifically stated
that the information was filed “before any
commitment, deposition, or other record show-
ing that said defendant had a Preliminary
examination had been returned or filed, and
that no order of commitment was indorsed

on an alleged paper purporting to be a com-
plaint.” Section 809 of the Penal Code Pro-
vides for the filing of an information within
30 days after a defendant “has been exam.
ined and committed, as provided in Section
872 of this Code.” Section 872 directs that
“if it appears from the examination that a
public offense has been committed, and there
is sufficient cause to believe the defendant
guilty thereof, the magistrate must make or
indorse on the complaint an order, signed by
him,” holding the accused to answer the
charge. It seems to be settled by the deci.
sions of this court that the making of such
order, signed by the magistrate, is a prerequi-
site to the valid filing of an information. Ex
parte Branigan, 19 Cal. 133; People v. Wi.
son, 93 Cal. 377, 28 Pac. 1061. In so far’ag
the section “provides that the order shall be
indorsed upon the deposition, the statute may
be regarded as directory; but it is essentia]
that it should be reduced to writing, and en-
tered either upon the official docket of the
magistrate or upon the complaint or deposi-
tions.” People v. Wilson, supra. See, also,
People v. Wallace, 94 Cal. 497, 29 Pae. 950,
It appears that the information was filed on
the 3d day of December, 1906. The com.
plaint which formed the basis of the pre
liminary examination was produced at the
hearing of the motion to set aside the infor-
mation. Indorsed upon this complaint wags a
written order, signed by the magistrate, hold-
ing the defendants to answer. This order
was, on its face, in full compliance with see
tion 872, and bore date of the 1st day of De.
cember, 1906, two days prior to the filing of
the information. To overthrow the apparent
regularity of the proceedings, the defendant
called as a witness his counsel, J. J. Greeley,
who testified that the information had been
filed in the superior court at about five min-
utes before 10 o’clock, on the morning of De-
cember 3d, and that at that time the “com-
mitment,’ or order holding the defendant to
answer, had not been signed; that he had
seen the complaint in the police court at
about 10:80 o’clock on the same morning;
and that the signature of the magistrate had
not then been affixed to it. E. P. Shortall, a
police judge, who had presided over the pre-
liminary examination, testified that he had
no independent recollection of the time when
he signed the order, but thought he had sign-
ed it on the afternoon of December ist. “The
only thing that calls it to my memory is the
date on it.” Whether the order holding de
fendant to answer was signed before or after
the filing of the information was a question of
fact to be determined by the trial court; and,


2-5

ee

Vea

ita tee ate for

reat

Police official tries cap on suspect for size. It had been left at murder site.

think hard, now, and tell the truth and
nothing else.”

“I always tell the truth,” Siri said.
“Always.”

“I believe you,” Husted said. “Now
tell us . did Charley tell you last
night that your watch was fast when he
picked you up?”

“Yes, he did.” She turned eagerly to
Simpson. “But that was wrong, Char-
ley. I looked at the clock in the jewelry
store window and it was just the same
as mine and, what’s more, the one at
home, was too.”

“You dumb broad,” Simpson ex-
ploded. “You stupid cow . . . I oughta
known better than to get mixed up
with a dumb foreigner...”

“What do you mean, Charley?”
Tears came to the girl’s eyes. “What
have I done, Charley? I wouldn’t hurt
you, Charley .. .”

“Get out of my sight before I knock
your brains out!” Simpson snarled
angrily.

Engler led the weeping girl from the
room. Simpson spat angrily after her,
then began berating her profanely.
Husted said quietly: “You killed her,
AMAZING DETECTIVE

Charley. Do you want to tell how you
did it?”

“Why not?” Simpson said. “I'll tell
you everything . . . and it’ll be good.”

He told the story that was told at the
beginning of this piece, except for the
additional details of burying the blood-
stained clothing at the beach and burn-
ing the death bludgeon in the family
furnace.

The following morning he’d gotten
up early and joined the throng in front
of the death house.

“You guys almost had me there,” he
sneered. “If you’d been half as smart
as you think you are, you wouldn’t
have had to drag that dumb dame down
here. It’s a wonder, with guys like you
as dicks, people don’t get away with
murder all the time.”

Charley didn’t have long to ponder
that riddle. A jury found him guilty of
murder in the first degree without rec-
ommendation of mercy and on July
17th, 1931, he was hanged in San
Quentin prison. 4

Editor’s Note:

The name Siri Nihl-
son is fictitious .

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43

ry


he told Engler that he operated a valet shop nearby and
that that morning he had found, among clothing left to be
cleaned, a pair of bloodstained corduroy trousers.

“They belong to Charley Simpson,” he said, holding
them up for inspection.

“Who’s Charley Simpson?” Engler asked.

“He lives down on Fifty-first Street,” the valet said.
bina knew him . . . that’s why she let him in.”

He pointed excitedly toward the crowd outside the door.
“He’s right out there now,” he cackled, “That’s him .
the big one with the slick hair and leather jacket ¢°.°”

Husted picked out a huge, dull visaged youth with heavy

_lidded eyes and a slack mouth. He was staring dully into
the shop, as were scores of others. Husted tapped him on
the shoulder. He betrayed no excitement.

“Come on inside,” Husted said. “I understand you knew
Albina pretty well.”

“I did,” Simpson said. “She was a nice old lady.”

The two went to the rear of the shop. Husted picked up
the corduroy trousers. Simpson eyed them curiously. Then
he said: “Those look like mine. How did they get here?”

“You left them at the cleaning shop some time last
night,” Husted said. “The valet said they were under the
night drop.”

Simpson looked
stains. “I suppose
Charley.”

“Blood,” Charley Simpson answered,

“Blood!” Husted was taken aback
“Well I'll be damned!”

“What’s the matter?”
bleed the other day.”

“What other day?”

“I think it was Monday,” Simpson answered.

“If you had a nose bleed Monday . . . that was four
days ago... . how’d it happen you just left the trousers to
be cleaned last night?”

Simpson shook his head. “I left them at the cleaner’s the
day they got spotted .. . Monday.”

_ Without a word, Simpson went to the rear door. He
ordered a uniformed man to bring the valet back.

The little man started talking rapidly as soon as he came
into the room.

“Them’s your pants, Charley . . . you can’t deny it.”

“He didn’t say they weren’t,” Engler put in. “What he
did say is that he left them in your place last Monday.”

“He did not... I mean, I found them only this morn-
ing,” the valet protested. “I hope to die if I didn’t... I
found them in the things under the night drop...”

Simpson shouted angrily, “I didn’t put them in the night
drop, and you know it, I put them on your counter when
I brought them in. What are you trying to do?”

He started toward the valet. Husted pulled him back.
The valet backed up against the -wall and began to bluster.

“Who’s a liar, me or him? You gonna believe me or him?
Who’s gonna believe him?”

Husted moved over and towered above the little valet.
““I want no more lying from anybody,” he said threaten-
ingly. “Did he or did he not leave these pants with you
on Monday?” |

“Now that I think it over, I remember he did leave a
pair of pants Monday. Maybe I got them mixed up,” the
valet admitted. “I didn’t mean any harm—I just wanted to
help the police.”

“You just wanted to get your name and maybe your pic-
ture in the paper,” Husted said. “Now get out of here before
I let Charley take care of you.”

He turned to Simpson as the valet fled through the
rear door.

“Sorry, Charley,” he said, “but don’t get rough with the
little sap. You’d just get yourself into trouble.”

“Okay,” said Simpson. “But I oughta kick his pants all
the way out to Seal Rock.” ,

puzzled, Husted pointed to the blood-
you know what made those stains,

ingenuously.
by his calm reply.

Simpson inquired. “I had a nose

f HE walked to the door with Simpson, Husted stopped
to study the fog-etched handprint again. It was high

on the lintel, as if it had been left by a tall man leaning

close against the door to get a clear view inside.

40

“AE

He never displayed remorse for coldblooded killing.

He called that the fog had fallen at approximately eight

P.M. the night before and had reached its greatest density
about ten minutes later. He recalled, too, that it had lifted
about ten, as the San Francisco fog habitually does; hence
no such print could have been left by the mob that gathered
when the ‘story of Albina’s death got out.

Engler appeared at the door and called Husted. He held
the cigar box in which the day’s receipts had been secreted.
He’d found it, he said, after Mrs. Neil had told him Albina
used the big carton as a safe. The roll of bills was neatly
marked: “Receipts for Feb. 18, 1931. Going change in

cash register, $3.42.”

As the inspectors examined the money,

a fireman ap-
peared, holding a cap. It was a peculiarly

made cap, with

a green visor and triangular inserts in the crown, made
AMAZING DETECTIVE

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of webbing of the same material.

“Where'd you get this?” Husted
asked.

“I fished it out from under a bureau
upstairs,” the fireman explained, “while
I was making a check.”

“Thanks, Mac.” Husted took the cap
and turned to Engler. “I think we can
finish up at headquarters.”

At the Homicide Bureau, Husted
pulled the cap‘ from his pocket and
tossed it on his desk. Inspector Louis
De Mattei, of the Automobile Theft
Squad, stared at it.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked,
curiously.

“Out at the Chabot place,’ Husted
said.

“The Chabot place?” De Mattei re-
peated. “Isn’t that that fire and mur-
der out in the Richmond district?”

“That’s right.”

De Mattei turned the cap over re-
flectively. “Same vents, same vizor,” he
mumbled. “Where did I see that one?”

“Got a hunch?” Husted suggested.

“T think so,” De Mattei said. “Seems
to me I picked up a bird wearing a lid
like that a few days ago. Out in that
district, too.”

“Auto theft?”

“In a way,” De Mattei said. “Punk
borrowed a neighbor’s crate and kept
it out a couple of days without the
owner’s consent.”

AMAZING DETECTIVE

Det. Sgt. George Engler won promotion to inspector for his brilliant sleuthing.

“He’s probably coming up today,”
De Mattei said. “Ill go to Judge Steiger
of Municipal Court and see if he’s
among the mob.”

An hour later, De Mattei returned, a
look of grim satisfaction on his face.
“He’s down in the can.”

Husted reached for an
phone.

“Jail, please,” he said. Then, “Hello,
Mike? Send up the one Louie just sent
down from Steiger’s court to hold for
George and me.”

Ten minutes later, the door to the
Homicide Bureau opened and a jail
guard walked in. He reached back and
dragged a figure after him.

“Here’s Louie’s baby,” the guard
said.

Husted stared and half rose from his
chair. “Well,” he exclaimed. “Charley
Simpson!”

“Moses on the mountain top!” Engler
gasped, looking from Simpson to De
Mattei. “Is this your suspect?”

ies him, is that his cap,” De Mattei
said.

intercom

IMPSON stared at Engler and Hus-
ted moodily. His sallow skin had
gone gray over his high cheek bones
and his huge hands hung at his sides
like a pair of loose, old cotton gloves.
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Husted?” he asked,

“Wait a minute,” De Mattei inter-
rupted. “When I picked this punk up
in court this morning, he asked me
what I wanted. And then he said. “It
looks bad for me, having that old
woman killed out in my neighborhood,
don’t it?’”

“What made you ask that, Charley?”
Engler demanded.

“That’s not what I asked,” Simpson
replied, evenly. ““He’d picked me up be-
fore for nothing. So this time, I said,
‘I suppose because somebody was killed
out my way, you'll try to pin that on
me too.’”

De Mattei picked up the cap from
the table and held it out. “I suppose you
never saw this before,” he sneered.

“Maybe not that one,” Simpson an-
swered, calmly, “but I’ve got one just
like it,”

“Where is it?” Husted asked.

“T left it out at the golf club where I
caddy,” Simpson said. “It’s around out
there somewhere.”

“Can anybody look it up for you?”
Engler suggested.

“Eddie, the janitor could check it,”
Simpson said. “I left it down in the
locker room.”

Engler put through a call to the
Lincoln Park golf house.

“Eddie says the cap’s not there,” he
reported as he put down the phone,
“and he also says Charley’s not sup-
posed to leave his things hanging
around where anybody can pick them
u hi
* Saiiaks shook his head, slowly, then
brightened.

“Listen,” he half whispered, “couldn’t

_ somebody have taken my cap and then

lost it somewhere, sort of convenient-
ly?”

“Where would they lose it, Charley?”
Husted asked softly.

“Wherever you found _ this one,”
Simpson said. “After all, I’m not so
dumb but what I know this cap must
have been found out around Albina’s

somewhere. I may be just a dumb —

cluck caddy, but I’m not that dumb.”

“As a matter of fact, Charley, we
found it in Albina’s sitting room,”
Husted said. “I suppose it could be just
as phony as the cleaner’s story about
the pants; so why not wait around until
we compare some fingerprints?”

“Sure,” Charley Simpson agreed.
“You’ve got mine now ... got them
when I was picked up on that bum
car rap.”

Husted went into an adjoining room
and picked up an intercom again. He
asked the fingerprint room for a check
of Charley Simpson’s prints against the
fog-etched print taken off the Sweet
Shop door. Then he returned to the big
room.

“Charley,” he said, “there was a
print of a whole hand on the outside
door frame of Albina’s place and it
was made after closing time and before
the fog lifted at ten o’clock.”

“So what?”
“It was a print of your right hand
and fingers, Charley,’ Husted an-

42

nounced, significantly. “They just
checked it upstairs.”

“What’s so hot about that?” Charley
chuckled. “I stopped by there on my
way home to buy some cookies, like
I do almost every night. When Albina
didn’t answer, I leaned against the, door
to peek inside, but I never did see her.”

The three inspectors stared at Char-
ley, then at each other. Finally Husted
spoke:

“Why didn’t you tell us about that
last night, Charley?”

“I guess I was so sore I forgot every-
thing,” Simpson replied. “Seems to me
I had a right to be excited.”

“Yes, Charley,” Husted. agreed, re-
signedly, “I suppose you did.”

“Now you’ve got an answer for just
about everything,” Engler said, “except
where you were when Albina was
killed.”

“I. was with my girl,” Simpson said.

Inspector Husted with one of weapons used.

“Who’s your girl?” Husted asked.

“Siri Nihlson,” Charley said. “She
works as a nursemaid.”

“Suppose we bring her in,” Husted
suggested. “You don’t mind waiting
around until we talk to her do you,
Charley?”

“No, sir,” Charley said. “I can take
her home, then.”

“Sure,” Engler said. “You can take
her home, Charley.”

IRI NIHLSON was a _ beautiful
Scandinavian girl who had been in
America just four years. While work-
ing as a waitress on San Francisco’s
Ocean Beach she had met Charley
Simpson, then employed in a beach
concession, and they had started keep-
ing company, ;
She walked into the Homicide Bu-
reau, tall, golden blonde and wide eyed.
The toughened inspectors drew deep

breaths and looked a second time, in-

credulously. Here,
stinctively, was a girl who would speak
the truth. With her as an alibi, Charley
Simpson’s position, for all the cap and
the fingerprints, was unassailable. Gent-
ly, Husted began questioning her about
the suspect.

“You're a friend of Charley Simp- _

son’s?”

“Yes, and I know all about it,” the
girl replied in her soft accent, “I was
with him when he drove the car. He
didn’t intend to steal it... he Teally
didn’t steal it. I was sorry for him be-
cause he wasn’t really being bad. Really
he wasn’t.”

“Were you with him last night?”

“Yes, I was,” Siri said, “but he didn’t
have a car.”

“We aren’t thinking about a car,”
Husted explained. “What time did you
meet him?”

“He was late,” Siri said, naively. “It
was past nine-thirty.”

The inspectors looked at each other
quickly.

Here was the first break in Charley
Simpson’s earlier confident story.

“Are you positive of that?”

“Oh, yes,” the girl said. “I was wor-
tied because I got off work at eight-
thirty and he wasn’t there and I was
afraid he might be borrowing a car
again and I didn’t want him to.”

There was a brief silence and then
Husted said softly:

“You wait in the other room for a
few minutes, Siri. We want to talk to
Charley again.”

“Just a minute,” Engler interrupted.
“Did Charley tell you why he was late
last night?”

“Yes,” Siri said. “He stopped to
change his clothes.”

Charley Simpson stepped buoyantly
into the big room, He looked about
quickly, obviously expecting to see Siri
Nihlson, “Where’s my girl?” he asked
defiantly.

“Let’s cut the kidding, Charley,”
Husted shot at him. “You didn’t pick
Siri up last night until after nine-thirty,
did you?”

“Did she say that?” Simpson de-
manded, paling.

“She did,” Engler said. “She also
said you were late because you stopped
to change your clothes before calling
for her.”

“Mr. Husted,” Simpson said, hope-
fully, “Siri’s Swedish and she doesn’t
understand American things yet. She
had her watch all loused up last night

..more than an hour fast, it was.

That's how she happened to say that.”

“Did you call her attention to it?”
Husted inquired.

“Yes,” Simpson said. “I showed her
my watch and she saw it was only
eight-thirty, but she must have gotten
mixed up again.”

“Bring Siri Nihlson in,” Husted said
to Engler.

Siri looked at Simpson and smiled
wanly as she entered the room. Husted
panied against the table edge and faced

er.

“Siri,” he said, “we want you to

AMAZING DETECTIVE

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ALSO BY CARYL CHESSMAN: Cell 2455, Death Row

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148 Trial by Ordeal

Before being slain by his peers at the home of his fiery girl
friend, Virginia Hill, the late Bugsy Siegel was tried in Los
Angeles County for murder. The jury deadlocked at eleven
to one for conviction. Conveniently for Siegel, the prose-
cutor’s office came to the surprising conclusion that a retrial
would not be in the best interests of justice, and he was
turned loose. Justice is not blind, but she is often blinded.

Except for a few notable exceptions, it’s not the old pro
who is sent to Death Row; it’s his callow counterpart, the
impressionable, often dumb kid who gets hold of a gun and
tries to rob the corner grocery store. He isn’t mean, but he’s
scared. He’s green. He may give the victim a chance to make
a grab for his gun. He may not be able to cope with a sudden
and unanticipated development. Before he realizes what he’s
doing he pulls the trigger and runs. His victim may die. He’s
easy to catch. He’s easy to convict. A jury is told what a
callous, dangerous killer he is. He’s doomed.

It happens all the time. Here’s one specific instance. Har-
old, a fuzzy-cheeked young man with an acute inferiority
complex, and his pal Dominick, had just reached their ma-
jority. They had been boyhood friends and during adoles-
cence had spent some time in a home for feeble-minded
children. They were employed by a butcher. On the night of
the homicide, driving their employer’s car and accompanied
by a seventeen-year-old girl we'll call Rhoda, they made a
delivery of meat to a restaurant. After that they had some-
thing to drink.

Near midnight they drove to a place across the street from
a grocery store owned by the deceased. There they waited
until closing time, when the deceased left his store and began
to drive to his house. They followed briefly, then passed him
and parked opposite the house. The deceased arrived, alighted
to open a closed gate and returned to his panel truck. At that
moment Harold nervously approached the deceased’s truck

The Professional Criminal 149

on the driver’s side, with a loaded .32 automatic in his left
hand. (He was left-handed.) Dominick was headed for the
passenger side of the vehicle.

“This is a stick-up!” Harold blurted out.

The deceased rammed his truck into gear. It lurched for-
ward. The gun in Harold’s hand went off, the bullet striking
the deceased. In panic, Harold and Dominick ran to their
car, abandoning the robbery. The trio sped off wildly, their
excursion into crime aborted with terrible and tragic finality.

Within an hour the deceased was found on the road beside |

his truck, mortally wounded but conscious. He died the next
day.

Harold and Dominick were quickly captured and placed
on trial for their lives. Rhoda testified for the state. Harold
attempted to take the entire blame for the attempted robbery
and shooting; he said that Dominick simply had gone along
for the ride. He testified that the shot which killed the de-
ceased had been fired accidentally. Under the state’s penal
code, an accidental homicide committed during an attempted
robbery is murder of the first degree and is punishable by
either death or life imprisonment. Harold was doomed. Dom-
inick was sentenced to life imprisonment.

In prison parlance, a “hero” is a person who, for reasons
best known to himself, jumps and seeks to capture an armed
burglar or bandit during the commission of a crime. The
professional fears him, not because he’s apprehensive of being
overpowered by him, but because he may have to shoot and
perhaps kill him. Sometimes, of course, the hero does man-
age to come out on the winning end. But the odds against
him are formidable. The professional who knows his busi-
ness means business. He doesn’t want trouble. He'll do his
best to avoid it. But he'll shoot if he has to, if the hero grabs
and tries to disarm him.

You've read about such incidents in your newspaper.’

SC a Sa are eer

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THE

*

By Hugh Coburn

HARRY K. HARAMES WAS A figure
of mystery and a topic of speculation
among his neighbors in suburban San
Leandro, Cal. Folks said he probably had
a trunkful of money hidden in the roccoco
old mansion he’d occupied for a quarter of
a century. Certainly the facts about this
short, stocky, 67-year-old Greek immi-
grant were conducive to that kind of gossip.
Harry Harames owned a highly-pros-
perous fruit market and grocery in ad-
joining Oakland, on the east shore of San
Francisco Bay. Yet he seemed never to
spend a dime. He drove a rattle-trap panel
delivery truck to and from his market. He
dressed like an impoverished countryman,
Although the néighborhood had de-
veloped into one of new, pin-neat homes
with flowers and broad green lawns,
Harames kept livestock and_ raised vege-
tables on his sprawling place. It was a
rural area when- Harames moved there;
he saw no reason to alter his ways when
the town moved out and surrounded him.
He and an elderly cousin, Peter Harames,
lived alone in the great old house; they
never went anywhere; they kept to them-
selves. That was the Harry Harames the
community of San Leandro knew. But the
little merchant’s. few intimates knew an
entirely differént man.

The explanation for his apparent eccen- °
tricities was touchingly simple: Harames’
thoughts in his non-working hours were”
constantly of his native land and the wife
he left there years before. He didn’t have
time to be neighborly. He was too busy
composing love letters to his no-longer-
young Kaliope in’ Laconia, near Athens.
He didn’t need a bank, account because
much of the wealth he amassed went to
his family at home. He planned soon to

return to his true but aging love. He

BENEVOLENT
BUTCHER BOY

.

dreamed of comfortable years of retire-
ment in the isles of the Aegean. This was
not destined to be.

Misfortune began to haunt the gloomy
‘Harames dwelling in August, 1949. Cousin
Peter, in.a fit of despondency, tried to
take his own life with a kitchen knife. He
was taken. away to recover in a hospital,
‘and Harry Harames lived: alone, |

Frank Polvorosa and his wife, Josephine,
living next door to Harames on Estabrook
Street, were awakened bolt upright at 2:30
A.M. on September 2, For a moment, they
did not know what had awakened them.
Then they heard it: a swelling, sobbing,
half-human cry of anguish, coming from
Harames’ front yard.

Polvorosa threw a robe over his shoul-
ders and went to the door. The sound came
again, this time with words: : :

“Neighbors! Help me! Help me! I’m
hurt!”

Mrs. Polvorosa called. the police im-
mediately, reporting an apparent accident.

Across the street, John Gill was awake,
too. He thought the sound of a shot had
aroused him; he heard a-car speed away
before the moaning started. He also tele-
phoned police, :

Two cruising prowl cars of the San
Leandro police department were ordered
to the scene, Sergeant Jack Ashman and
Patrolman . Frank Kirk arrived at 2:40
A.M., with officers Wayne Macho and
Stuart Moll behind them, - .

It was an eerie picture. Eight.or nine
persons in night attire were standing in

the driveway. Harames’ truck stood there, .

headlights burning and both’ doors open.
The merchant was lying on his back be-
hind the truck, murmuring like a .broken
phonograph record, “Help me—help me—
help me... ” (Continued on page: 46)

A rf ana a e :

For him, the gas cham

Life imprisonment for a pal.


‘ Lut uis R Thite oOnrar mM A f° .
: uis R., white, hanged CA (Alameda) January 15, 1937

Trapped by a magazine article!

In this exclusive story Louis Shaver,

wanted for wife murder, tells how the

account of his crime in STARTLING

DETECTIVE ADVENTURES hounded him
into the hands of the law!

““Startling Detective
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, Statbg. Dik Lit .


Priscilla Wayne, adviser to youth, tells the truth
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WE WERE FUGITIVE LOVERS ~*
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“Alex,” he said, “I think they'll be
fishing this guy out of the bay before
HONE. 5 it

Another day passed,

Inspectors Goodnight and Box, re-
turning to the Telegraph avenue house,
made several startling discoveries. First
and most vital, was the knowledge that
Shaver had been occupying the second
floor room in which the torn note was
found. Second, in an attempt to inter-
pret Shaver’s message and the line which
said: ‘“... put me in prison...” Good-
night learned that the missing husband
had once been arrested on a charge of
beating his wife. Third, searching a bu-
reau in the room, the detectives found a
six page letter in which Shaver flatly
accused his wife of illicit and intimate re-
lations with certain of her clients.

“Lillian Shaver runs a rotten place,”
he had written. “It’s not fit for the chil-
dren to sleep in. She used to go to a
rooming house and stay there with one
of these men...”

Struck with sudden inspiration, Good-
night hurried to the Bureau of Identifi-
cation at headquarters and pored
through the filing system. Then, with
a chuckle of triumph, he drew out a large
card bearing the likeness and finger-
prints of Louis Shaver, plus a record of
the assault charge brought by Madame
Shaver some months before—a charge
that resulted in a $20 fine against the
husband.

“Boy, this ought to do it,” the detec-
tive murmured,

He returned to his own office, picked
up a reproduction of the bloody hand-
print found on the wall and compared it
with Shaver’s fingerprints.

“I knew it!” he breathed. ‘“They’re
alike!”

And so, by a process of elimination,
Goodnight convinced himself that he
had solved the killing of Madame -Lil-
lian Shaver. With that conclusion
reached, he went to the first floor of
the Oakland City Hall and swore to a
complaint charging Louis Shaver with
murder in the first degree.

Before the day was over circulars
with’ Shaver’s photograph and descrip-
tions were pouring into the mails for the
police of every western city. Teletype
messages were flashed to police bureaus
throughout the state, warning thei to
watch for the hunted man. Goodnight
meanwhile went to the Juvenile Deten-
tion Home for another chat with the
three children.

And there he found the final amazing
clue.

For little Louis, the boy who had
been abandoned in the park, presumably
after the tragedy, blurted out:

“I saw papa stick mama with a knife!”

Fitting The Puzzle Together

IT by bit Goodnight completed the

mosaic of mystery and the children,
no longer shy and afraid, babbled of
strange events in the house of death,
told of domestic quarrels, of arguments
over Madame Shaver’s male fortune
telling clients. Shaver, it seems, had
appeared at the grammar school attend-
ed by Richard and Frances the day of
the crime.

“Here,” -he said, giving them some
money, “you kids buy your lunch at
the school and then go to the movies
when classes are out.”

Later Shaver took the youngest child
to the park, pinned the address tag to

68 THank You For MENTIONING STARTLING DerecTIVE ADVENTURES

his shirt an
facts were }
jury by Ins
fellow police
Shaver was
crime.
There is a
wild race for
He is an
the water.
hunted killer
in the pres¢
nor can he
body is cove

“Why, y
like her an

man to h
liked her
much to ‘
sometimes
out.”
Someth
he knew <
was kille«
“See he
jealous al
“T did

HE

Hoff
Hoffmatr
killer?
The kill:
ried the
of stairs
and far
weighed
was aili

| The m
incapa
ing ou

} the ac

OW)

“Ne

hard »

| mana}
| Ho
sistan
fessio

Jobb

house

from


to

his shirt

d. disappeared. “All these
facts were presented to the coroner's
jury. by Inspector Goodnight and his

fellow police officers, with the result that
“Shaver was formally accused of the

crime. ;
“There is a touch of irony in Shaver’s
wild race for freedom.

He is an expert swimmer and loves
the water. But as long as he lives, the
hunted killer dare not remove his clothes
in the presence of any human being—
nor can he ever swim again. For his
body is covered with tattoo pictures, and

“Why, yes, it has. Any man would

‘like her and like to go to a movie with

her.”

“Did anybody else in that house like
her?”

“Yes, It would be natural for any
man to hope she'd like him some.
liked her myself. But she wouldn’t have
much to do with me. We just talked
sometimes when we met going in or
out.”

Something in Markham’s tone hinted
he knew about John Jobb and why Jobb
was killed.

“See here,” Hoffman said. “Were you
jealous about her?”

“I did feel a little jealous.”

“I Shot Him!”

HE young man’s dark eyes met
Hoffman’s. His tone was casual.
Hoffman wondered: could he be the
killer? The idea seemed preposterous.
The killer probably had, unassisted, car-
ried the heavy body down two flights
of stairs, carried it fifty yards in an alley
and farther into. the lot. Markham
weighed little more than 100 pounds and
was ailing, apparently incapable of phys-
ie exertion. Jobb had weighed about
“Did you have a gun?” Hoffman said.

“Ves, That .32 on your desk!”

Hoffman grabbed Markham’s arm.

“Did you kill him?”

“Ves. I shot him and burned him.”

Hoffman scarcely believed the words.
The man who had uttered them seemed
incapable of willing to kill and of carry-
ing out a killing; he seemed incapable of
the act of disposing of the body.

“Who helped you burn him?”

“Nobody. I did it all myself, It was
hard work and bad for my heart, but I
managed it.”

Hoffman had a call put in for an as-
sistant state’s attorney to hear the con-
fession and for a stenographer to record
Jobb killed? Even in an old rooming
house where perhaps some are hiding
from their pasts, where live men and
women from many cities for only brief

‘ periods, people are curious about other
people and watch them and ask ques-
tions and form opinions about them.

“Was Jobb killed for money or be-
cause of a love affair or because of con-
flict with someone? Was he attentive
to any woman in that house? Who in
-the house had a gun?”

One woman said she didn’t know Jobb

on his/ arm, y stamp
skin, is the one word: “Lillian.” ee
Madame Shaver, who laughed at the
Spade Ace, lies dead in her grave.

But as this is written, a little blonde
girl, strangely apart from other children
her age, sits in the Oakland detention —
home ... shuffling the cards... . dealing
them out one by one... just as her
mother did that black and windy. night
when death left his calling card.

(In fairness to innocent persons, the names
George Richfield, Ralph Cotton, Poultney, used in
poh sf are not actual but fictitions.—The

itor.

had any money and that she’d never ob-
served him trying to be attentive to her.
Two women turned and looked at the
fourth, comely, dark-haired, in her mid-
dle thirties. ‘

The fourth one stepped to the lieu-
tenant’s side. She was Mrs. Nellie
Seldon, a widow.

“I might be able to help you,” she
said. ‘“There’s one person in the house
that ‘knew more about Jack Jobb than
anybody else. That’s Fred Markham.
Why don’t you get him here and see if

e can help your”

She explained that Markham was the

thin man, 34 years old, who had come to .

Hoffman in the lobby of the house. Hoff-
man sent men to bring in Markham.

Flanagan and Collins arrived with the
young man and Hoffman gave him a

air.

“The killing was done in the house,”
Flanagan said, “There were stains in a
storeroom for wood and coal opening
off the landing on the stairs between the
second and third floors. The body must
have been carried out of there.”

“What do you know about Jobb that

will help us?” Hoffman asked the young
man.
Markham sat back in the chair.
Though his face was inclined to swarthi-
ness it had pallor. He looked ill. His
coat was open and Hoffman. could see
the shirt move with ra id pounding of
the heart. He had dar hair and dark
eyes.

“Well, you see, I’ve been in the hospi-
tal. I haven't been at the house this time
for more than a few days.”

“Anybody in the house have trouble
with Jobb? Your room was on the sec-
ond floor rear and his was on the third
floor rear. You could have heard any
argument there. You'd know if he had
a liking for any woman in the house.

“You would have heard it if he were
shot in or near his room. Your room
was near the storeroom. You'd have
heard any movement around there.
You've been sick and have been in the
house day and night.”

Markham looked at Mrs. Seldon,

“T want to talk to you alone, Lieu-
tenant,” he said.

After the women had left the room
Hoffman faced Markham across the

desk.

“Jobb liked Mrs. Seldon,” Markham
said. “She’s pretty and good.
any man would like her. He used to ask
her to go to a movie with him.”

“Has that anything to do with his be-
ing murdered?”

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“Much Trouble


:

Public Enemy and

and while still under its dizzying influence
his recklessness and braggadocio has
landed him behind prison bars before he
knows it. Make a dangerous criminal,
one who might otherwise go on robbing
and killing indefinitely, a public figure, a
public enemy, and he is already on his
way to the gallows. He may remain free
for a few weeks or a few months but it is
only borrowed time. “The heat is on”
and even gangdom hesitates to offer him
refuge.

The trained officer learns to use every
weapon at his command against the crook.
He must if he expects to win in the con-
stant battle against him. There has never
been a time in the police history of the
country when cleverness and resourceful-
ness is any greater asset to the officer.
Each individual case demands some
special treatment which calls upon the
originality of the operative. We rave
about equipment. It is necessary, cer-
tainly, but the hoodlum is just as able to
procure and learn to use up-to-date equip-
ment as the officer.

Today the war against crime is rather
a war of brains against brains, of strategy
against strategy, and if the police expect

Crime Suppression °

[Contigued from page 9)

.

\

to win they must have the strategy and
brains on their side. Then let the knowl-
edge that the law enforcing agencies can
outwit the cleverest crook be demon-
strated and publicized to all gangdom—-
and watch the demoralizing effect upon
the rank and file of the underworld’s no-
torious rats.

The capture of sixty-eight hoodlums in
two years in the entire nation has not and
cannot end crime when there are more
than fifteen thousand of the same stamp
to be dealt with every week. The battle
front of the war upon crime is as far
flung as the borders of the entire nation.
It remains for the men on the firing line
(I refer to the local law enforcement
agencies) along that front to decide the
issue, the men who go over the top a
dozen times a day knowing that they face
death at every turn. Let those behind
the lines, in the courts, in the schools, at
the nation’s presses, everywhere that there
is work to be done, support our soldiers
in every possible way, for theirs is the
sacred duty of protecting our homes
against a common enemy that is a far
greater menace to us than foreign in-
vasion.

The Chief’s Chair

[Continued from page 6]

Southern Floggings—

EMORIES of the old Ku Klux

Klan are stirring throughout the
South as hooded night riders continue to
spread a reign of terror, In North Caro-
lina a secret band, operating under the
pretext of law and order, has dragged
helpless men and women from their
homes, shaved their heads, stripped them
and Jashed them unmercifully upon their
bared backs.

Similar floggings have occurred in
Arkansas where a local newspaper has
even gone so far as to justify mob action
and announce editorially that whipping
“has produced results.”

We do not believe that the South in
general glorifies flogging or condones
the whipping of white women. That puts
the matter squarely up to local officials—
to jail these night riders and teach them
that they cannot rule by tyranny and
take the law into their own hands.

Headed For The Gallows—

OUR months ago (June SDA) Louis

R. Shaver, wanted for the murder of
his wife in their Oakland flat in 1934,
told how an account of his crime pub-
lished in this magazine eventually
hounded him into the hands of police.

For eighteen months Shaver kept his
freedom but he knew no peace. Because
of the publicity given his case he did not

dare to stay long in one place. The ar-
ticle in this magazine drove him on,
seeking new hiding places.

That is all over now. The hunt is
ended. Shaver is in jail, sentenced to
die—trapped by a magazine article.

It’s Still Murder—

ERRY MAY of Union City, N. Ju

had always been a good boy. But on
last New Year’s Eve his temper got the
better of him and he hammered to death
his 6-year-old cousin, Sergio Sciarra
and attacked the boy’s father with a
penknife.

Jerry, who is 15, may go to the chair.
New Jersey has a statute which holds
that persons under the age of 16 are in-
capable of responsibility for crime; but
Judge Robert V. Kinkead has ruled that
the statute is unconstitutional.

Judge Kinkead based his opinion on
the presumption that adults could in-
fluence children to commit murder if the
law provided no other penalty except con-
finement as a delinquent.

To take the life of a mere boy is a
horrible thing to contemplate; but mur-
der is no less heinous simply because a
child’s hand has dealt the fatal blow.

Se Ch

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Corpse in the
Closet

(Continued from page 23)

1934—the date of the murder—which could
be backed up by witnesses, and so Box
took him back to Oakland for further in-
terrogation.

Meanwhile Roy Bixler was found. It
was Ed Soderberg, the energetic reporter,
who turned him up and got his story.” He
said he had left Madame Shaver’s house
at about noon on September 11.

“She gave me a strange reading,’ he
told police. “She seemed very high-strung,
almost as if she was afraid of something.
She stared at the ball for a long time
without speaking, and then said, in a low
tone, ‘There is blood in the crystal.- I see
blood.’ ”

Bixler said he had paid her and left,
greatly dissatisfied.

Bixler was able to provide an alibi for
his time after leaving the seeress. He had
stopped on the way out for a pack of
cigarettes, and the proprietor of the cigar
store remembered having seen Lillian
Shaver after Bixler boarded a streetcar for

owntown Oakland.

A citywide hunt was on for Louis
Shaver, the missing husband. Inspector
Goodnight was still searching the death
house for clues, directing the identification
bureau who swarmed over the place seek-
ing fingerprints.

The bloody handprint on the wall was
too badly smudged for the. lifting of a
clear set of prints. Two other prints, both
tinged with blood, were discovered and
photographed, however.

Goodnight found several other copies -

of poems written by the victim, and these,
too, dwelt apparently on her love for her
husband. On a window ledge below the
second floor the investigator espied a
number of torn scraps of paper, and man-
aged to retrieve them.

He saw fragments of penciled words on
them, and pocketed the pieces with the
thought that they were another set of
verses which Mrs. Shaver probably had
torn up and thrown away.

A comparison of the fingerprints with
those of Gerard Popham indicated that he
was innocent of the crime, as he had as-
serted. Because of his excellent reputation
in his home district, Popham was released,
but was warned that he was not com-
pletely free from suspicion. He promised
to‘remain available for any future sum-
mons from the Oakland authorities.

His release left the police without a sus-
pect. It also left them without a logical
motive for the horror on Telegraph Ave-
nue.

“How about those scraps of paper you
took from the window ledge?” Soderberg
suggested. “It seems funny to me she’d
tear up one of her songs and thrown it out
the window. Into the- stove, maybe, but
not outside .. .” : ‘

“We'll soon see,” said Goodnight, heap-
ing the pieces upon a table. He and the
reporter bent over the fragments, working
patiently to match them.

Note Deciphered

Suddenly the inspector began to frown.
“This is not her writing,” he told the re-
porter. “Maybe we’ve got something after
all.”

He worked with new interest for half
an hour, and then motioned Chief Wall-
man to his side. The chief spelled out the
note from the fragments spread before
him.

“Lillian,” the message read. “You have

~

donc me a great wrong. I have been try. |
ing to make up with you, but you wouldn’t. |
You tried to puft me in prison so you could |
have your lover with you. But God will
take care of you when the time comes. I
will leave a curse upon you the rest of
your life. Hope you will go through what

_I have gone through—and that you never

have a day’s luck as long as’ you live, and
if I can come back~+I will haunt you to
death. I will try and return the sorrow you
have caused me. Goodbye. Louis.

“P.S. I hope they take your children
away from you, for you are a disgrace to
them and to me. May God punish you for
the wrong you have done.”

“A suicide note!” the police chief. ex-
claimed. “Could it be he killed his wife?”

Inspector Goodnight was frankly puz-
zled. “He tore up the note,” he said. “That
would seem to indicate. that he changed
his mind. But who is the man to whom
Shaver referred?” ;

The investigators were still searching
some lead to this person when Mrs. Bertha
Ritter came to headquarters. She showed
them a letter she had found under her
door that day and asked for police pro-
tection.

“Dear Betty,” the note said. “Shut your
mouth. If not, I will come and get you. Do
not tell police. If you do it will be too bad
for you. Tonight I will be at your home at
7. Put on your good smile when I get there.”

The threat was unsigned, but Mrs. Ritter
said she was certain it had been left at her
home by none other than Louis Shaver.
She was, she said, a close friend of Mrs.
Shaver.

Detectives watched her home that night.
Shaver did not show up. Inspector Good-
night, comparing Mrs. Ritter’s letter with
the torn suicide note, confirmed the fact
that both had been written by the same
person.

It was in studying the missive in which
the husband vowed he would return to
haunt the wife he suspected of infidelity
that the inspector saw what he believed
might be a valuable lead.

“You tried to put mein prison .. .

Did that mean that Shaver had been
arrested? A quick search of police records
disclosed that the missing chef had been
convicted on an assault charge preferred
by his wife on August 7, and had been

”

‘fined $20.

‘Goodnight extracted Shaver’s record
card from the files. The man’s fingerprints
matched exactly the two bloody prints
lifted at the scene of the crime. Orders
went out to.all police in the San Francisco
area to be on the lookout for Louis Shaver.

A damning confirmation of what Oak-
land detectives already knew—that Louis
Shaver was the slayer—came the following
day through the tireless efforts of Ed
Soderburg, when little Louis, Jr., at last
broke his silence.

“I saw daddy hit mama with a knife,” he
said. “Then he hit her with a chair.”

Chief Wallman broadcast circulars bear-
ing’ Shaver’s description. Among other
features, he was generously tattoded.
Several pictures decorated his arms and
chest, and on his left arm appeared the
name of the woman he had killed. The
word “Lillian,” in permanent letters,
would betray the fugitive husband soon,
the police believed.

This, however, was doomed to be a false
Rope. Despite a diligent search, the au-
thorities found no trace of the wanted man
Weeks passed, and months. Still Louis
Shaver remained at large. .

Nearly a year and a half after Madame
Shaver read her dreadful fate in the crys-~°
tal- ball, Edward Swanson, a laborer in
Seattle, appeared at headquarters there.

“T’ve spotted a murderer here in
Seattle,” he said. “He’s a man wanted in

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47


v”

‘movie.

“Yes,” she - said.
brought him home. But there was no-
body here, so the officer left him with
Mr. Lee, next door.”

“Where were your parents?”

“Daddy left in the afternoon. He said
he’d just got a new job. He gave Rich-
ard—he’s my 6-year-old brother; Louis
is only 4—and me money to go to the
Mummy was out some place, I
don’t know where. She didn’t come
back all night. She never did that be-
fore.”

“And your
where he is?”

“Working, I suppose. He’s a chef. He
hasn’t had a regular job. Just picks up
extra work, and sometimes has to go
away for a week to cook in a restaurant
out of town.”

The girl—she said her name was
Frances, and she was 11 years old—led
the reporter and photographer into the
kitchen, where she had been preparing

father, do you know

‘a meal for her two brothers.

“This is Louis,” .she said, indicating
the smaller of the two boys. ‘“Some-
how he got into the park down at Sev-
enth and Jackson.”

“How about it, son?” Soderberg
asked. “How did you roam so far?”

The boy was bashful. He looked at
the two strangers, but did not speak.
Soderberg’s gaze took in the prepara-
tions for lunch. Frances, he quickly
realized, was not old enough to shoul-
der the responsibility for the family.

“Stay here,” he told Rogers. “Get
your pictures. I'll be back in ten min-
utes.”

He went next door to interview R. G.
Lee, the neighbor with whom the
policeman had left little Louis.

“Patrolman N. C. Danielson brought
the boy to my door last night,”. Lee
related. “The kid was wearing only a
thin shirt and pants, though the night
was cold, as you may remember.”

Soderberg nodded, his lips com-
pressed as his anger rose against par-
ents who would allow a poorly clad
youngster out alone at night. Espe-
cially when a _ knifelike wind. was
whipping in from the bay.

“The officer found the lad walking in
the park,” Lee went on. “He had a tag

pinned to his shirt. That’s how Officer’

Danielson knew where to bring’ him, for
the child couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk.
Here’s the card. I kept it.”

Blood On Wall

The newspaperman took the small

square of stiff paper.“ “This boy’s
mother,” he. read, “is’ Mrs. Lillian
Shaver of 2326 Telegraph Avenue,
Oakland.”

Lee substantiated Frances’ story that
the father was. often away from home.
“But Mrs. Shaver has never left the
kids alone before that I know of.”

“Well,” snapped Soderberg, “they
can’t stay by themselves.” He phoned
the city juvenile department and re-
ported the case to Inspector Thomas

‘Evans. That veteran official promised

to come out at once and see that the

Shaver children were cared for, at least

until the parents could be located.
The reporter stopped enroute back

22 to the fortune teller’s house and bought

“A policeman .

a bag of candy. Even when offered
sweets, Louis, Jr., could not be per-
suaded to talk. As the youngsters
munched the candy, Doc Rogers called
his colleague aside.

“Get the kids out of the kitchen,” he
whispered. “There is something I'd like
you to see.” He nodded toward a corner
of the room.

There for the first time .Soderberg
hoted a bed consisting of a mattress on
iron supports.

“Frances,”
“There are some people coming to call.
Don’t you think you’d better take the
boys up and wash their faces?”

Wordlessly the girl herded her broth-
ers out of the kitchen. Rogers pointed
to a dark stain upon the green figured
wallpaper near the bed. “That’s blood,”
he said, “or I never saw the stuff. Not
very old, either.”

Soderberg examined the spot, then

he suggested gently.

until Inspector Evans gets around.”

Evans arrived 15 minutes later, ac-
companied by his partner, Inspector Ed
Summers. ‘Immediately behind them
came Keith Dennison, the Tribune
cameraman sent to replace Doc Rogers.

Soderberg meanwhile had not been
idle. He had found additional blood-
stains on the leg of a chair, and ob-
served that the bulb in the electric light
above the bed in the kitchen was shat-
tered. The pieces of glass lay on the
floor:

That bed, Frances had told him, was
used by her mother. The girl had no
idea where the blankets had gone.

But the most important find the re-
porter had made was in the stove. From
the ashes he had fished two bracelets, a
belt buckle and a length of iron pipe.
Frances had identified the cheap jew-
elry as belonging to Mrs. Shaver, the
fortune teller.

Inspector James Goodnight (left) of Oakland reads back to the murderer

the confession which he had signed after his apprehension in Seattle.

knelt and inspected the mattress. He
noted there was no bedclothing, al-
though the sleeping mat seemed to have
been used. He wondered what had hap-
pened to the quilt and blankets. His
wonder grew as he saw several brown
splotches upon the mattress. They too
were blood, he was:sure.

Then he and Rogers discovered the
bloody handprint on the wall.

“Did you. get photos of the kids?”
Soderberg asked.

“Yeah. Think I better phone the
desk?”

“I do. Tell ’em you’re coming in.
They’d better send somebody out with
another camera. I’ve got a hunch we’re
going to find something pretty nasty

here before we’re through. [I'll stick -

.Encrusted in a dried substance on-
the end of the pipe were several dark
hairs!

The two officers and the two news-
papermen began a search of the house,
first taking the children to the home of
a neighbor.

Upstairs they found a pair of man’s
spectacles on a dresser, and a set of
false teeth, also apparently a man’s,
were standing in a glass of water.

“If these are Shaver’s,” Inspector
Summers pointed out, “my guess would
be that he did not intend to stay away
from home long.”

“Meaning it might have been his
blood downstairs?” Soderberg asked.

The inspector shrugged. “Possibly.
Let’s keep looking.”

= Evans
= opened 1
© into the
© -the stair
© Shaver.
> dergarm:
*» crushed
with the
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re: "The st
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With hi
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finecomb
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aloud to

T will t:
year.
Now I
“To war

When
said’ he

verses 0


sets around.”

tes later, ac-
Inspector Ed
behind them
the Tribune
> Doc Rogers.
rad not been
tional blood-
lair, and ob-
‘electric light
1en was shat-
3s lay on the

old him, was
> girl had no
iad gone.
find the re-
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o bracelets, a
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> cheap jew-

Shaver, the

he murderer
in Seattle.

bstance on
2veral dark

two news-
‘ the house,
he home of

ir of man’s
id a set of
y a man’s,
f water.

' Inspector
‘uess would
stay away

been his
rg asked.
“Possibly.

Ta
al

ee

4

~. His story was not believed.

. It was Dennison, the photographer,
> who spied the new nail driven into the

e door of a cubbyhole behind the bed in

the kitchen.
a Body In Closet

Evans pried the nail out, and they
opened the door. Twisted grotesquely
into the small space in the closet under
the staircase was the body of Madame
Shaver. She was clad only in her un-
dergarments. The woman’s head was
crushed from repeated blows, doubtless
with the iron pipe. In addition, her
chest was slashed to ribbons.

The storm had broken!
had the biggest scoop of the year, and
he lost no time in getting to.a telephone.
Inspector Evans meanwhile flashed
news to headquarters of the grisly find
in the fortune teller’s home.

Police Chief Bodie A. Wallman
headed the group of top-flight investi-
gators who sped north. out Telegraph
Avenue from headquarters downtown.
With him were Captain of Inspectors
Alex Trotter and Inspectors James
Goodnight and Andrew Box.

The police officers and Soderberg °

finecombed the house for clues. The re-
porter came across a sheet of paper filled
with penciled verses. He read them
aloud to Chief Wallman and the others.

“There’s love in singing for you, sweet-

“heart, dear,

Love that grows stronger, year after year,

The love that cheers life’s trials and —
tears,

When you place upon my hand a golden
band,

Then I will say today sends love’s sweet-

. est hour for human pair.

T will try to help and love all through the
year.
Now I am alone with my memories,
*“To wander back in days when you told
me you loved me, never more to part.”

When shown the script, little Frances
said’ her mother had composed ‘the
verses only the day before. “She wrote

"She came at me with a butch-
‘er knife,” the killer claimed.

Soderberg ©

songs like that nearly all the time.”

From the context of the lyrics, the
police reasoned that they must have
been dedicated to her husband. The

reference to a wedding ring could

scarcely apply to anyone else, and the
general tone seemed to point only to
him.

“Apparently they were very fond of
each other,” said Inspector Box. “We'll
have to try to locate him at once. I’d
say offhand that somebody waited until
he was gone from home to carry out a
premeditated murder.” :

Questioning of the neighbors indi-
cated that the Shavers had been a
devoted couple. They had moved into
the neighborhood only three months
earlier, coming from Troy, N. Y.

before, and Frances was the daughter
of that union. Richard and. Louis, Jr.,
had been born to the 25-year-old
seeress, who had wed the cook after his
first mate’s death. :

It had been largely through her tal-
ents with cards and the crystal ball, the
police learned, that the family had been
supported since coming to California.
Jobs were scarce in the year 1934, and
Shaver had succeeded only in getting
extra work from time to time.

Nowhere in the district could Inspec-
tors Goodnight or Box find anyone who
had heard a tumult in the Shaver house
on the preceding day or night. It was
virtually certain that the murder had

- taken place some time after Shaver had

taken the two older children to a
movie, where he gave them money for
their tickets and kissed them goodbye,
and before Frances and. Richard re-
turned from the show.

Chief Wallman and his aides were in-
clined to believe the crime had been
committed in the early evening. “It
looks,” said the chief, “like the killer
somehow got the younger boy Louis,
Jr., out of the house, abandoned him in
the park some distance away with that
placard on him, and. then returned to
kill Lillian’ Shaver.”

When Chief Bodie Wallman pieced a
torn note together he. began to sus-
pect who. had slain Mrs. Lillian Shaver.

The three children, weeping uncon-
trollably, were taken to the juvenile
detention home until their father could
be found. Attempts to question them
about what had happened the previous
day were futile. ;

Robbery was quickly written off as a
possible motive. Not only would there
have been little in the house to tempt
a thief, but the place had not been
ransacked. And, after an examination
of the corpse, Coroner Grant D. Miller
said there was no evidence of criminal
assault.

In the seeress’ consultation room
downstairs, Inspector Goodnight ran
across what promised to be the first
clue in the mystery of the corpse in the

. closet.
Louis Shaver had been married once -

"Who Is '"'P''?

In a box in which Madame Shaver.
kept papers pertaining to her business
of reading futures, the officer found a
packet of letters, all postmarked from
San Jose, and signed only with the let-
ter “P.” All these missives had been
mailed within the last two months.

Several indicated that “P” had fallen
in love with the pretty young fortune
teller, and that she had rejected his
suit. s Two of the letters contained
veiled threats of harm to Madame
Shaver unless she consented to see the
writer. Apparently their acquaintance
had originated in a call “P” had made
-for a reading in the crystal ball.

Chief Wallman dispatched Inspector
Box to San Jose, a city several miles
south of Oakland,.to try to trace the
author of these letters. He and Inspec-
tor Goodnight turned to the other
papers left by the seeress, seeking any
further possible leads.

The records disclosed that Lillian
Shaver had about 50 regular clients.
She had had an appointment with a
man named Roy Bixler for the day of
her death. The chief phoned headquar-.
ters and ordered a detective sent to find
and question this man.

Among the dead woman’s memoranda
were two other clues. She had quar-
reled with one of her clients over an
interpretation during a reading a week
earlier, and had rebuked still another
man for attempting to use their profes-
sional meetings to make love to her.

In San Jose, Inspector Box met with
unexpected success. -Detectives there
took him on a round of local fortune
tellers, and from them the officers com-
piled a list of men whose names—first
or last—began with the letter “P,” and
who were known to be interested in the

- oecult.

There were five names on the list.
Only one, Gerard Popham, a rancher,
admitted having known Madame
Shaver, and after some sharp question-
ing he confessed he was the author of
the “P” letters.

“But believe me,” he protested. ° “I
had nothing to do with her death. I was
indiscreet, yes, in letting myself care
too much for her. She was a very
personable woman. But I couldn’t have
killed her.”

However, Popham was unable to give
an alibi for the afternoon and evening of
September 11, (Continued on page 47) 23

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Oakland, Cal. I knew him from a picture.”
Detectives C. V. Dailey and M. Zuarri
questioned Swanson. The young man said
that he was certain Louis Shaver showed
up each day in a breadline near the Na-
tional Guard armory on First Avenue.
The next noon Detectives Daily and
Zuarri-accompanied Swanson to the place.
They stood for half an hour watching the
jobless men file by. Finally Swanson
pointed out one fellow.

Dailey stepped forward and seized the
man. “Come along, Shaver,” he said.
The prisoner looked up without surprise.
“I knew you would get me some day,” he
said tonelessly. “But I didn’t know when.”
Detective Captain Ernest Yoris persuaded

| the man to tell his story of the slaying in

Oakland. Shaver recited it listlessly.
“Lillian was carrying on with the men
who came for readings,” he said. “When I
raised a fuss about it, she got nasty about
me being out of work.”

Shaver said he endured these conditions
as long as he could, and insisted that his
nerves finally gave way. He said he and
Lillian had fought frequently, one of their
battles landing him. in police” court.

“The day I killed her,” he told Captain
Yoris, “we were arguing in the kitchen.
Suddenly Lillian came at me with the
butcher knife. I picked up the green chair
and knocked her down. What happened
after that I don’t remember very well—
until I came to my senses and saw her
lying, all bloody, on the floor.”

He nailed her up in the closet off the
kitchen, Shaver said, and then cleaned up
the, place as best he could. Little Louis,
Jr., was the only witness to the killing; the
other children were out playing.

“J gave Frances money for the show,”

he went on. “I said I was going away for
a few days to work. I left Louis in the
park with that tag on him. I knew the
police, would take care of him.”

Returned to Oakland, Shaver was
charged with first degree murder, Chief
Wallman, Inspector Goodnight, Ed Soder-
berg and others who had worked on the
case believed only a part of his story.
They had found no evidence that Lillian
Shaver had been unfaithful. On the con-
trary, she had repulsed the advances of
several men and clung to her family, sup-
porting them out of her meager earnings
while her husband was jobless.

Although Shaver had confessed to the
murder, he pleaded not guilty when
brought to trial in Superior Court. His at-
torney attempted to show that the crime
was voluntary manslaughter—a homicide
committed in the heat of uncontrollable
anger. However, Shaver’s own police rec-
ord indicated that on previous occasions he
had mauled his wife, that he used force
on her frequently.

The case went to the jury on May 4,
1936. After a deliberation of three hours
the talesmen-returned their verdict.

It was, “Guilty.” There was no recom-
mendation for mercy.

That same afternoon Judge Frank M.
Ogden sentenced Louis Shaver to die on
the scaffold for the murder of his wife.

In the early morning of January 15,
1937, the former chef mounted the fateful
13 steps in San Quentin prison. The blood
in the crystal ball was thus avenged.

Eprror’s Nore: To spare possible embar-
rassment to innocent persons, the names
of Roy Bixler, Gerard Popham and Mrs.
Bertha Ritter, used in this story, are not
real but fictitious.

BOYS’ CLEAVER ESCAPE FOILED

Jamestown, New York

(right), 14, and James Little (left), 13, decided to breeze.

Confined in the Los Angeles juvenile detention home, Richard Arnold Glick

It was young Glick

who somehow got a heavy meat cleaver, with which he attacked Jailer Herbert *
Carter, 52. However, the weapon was wrested from the “youth and both boys were
caught.

Inspector Karl Lee (with cleaver) lectures the youngsters before they:
were placed in solitary confinement.

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theft of the checks was passed on to
the Forgery Detail, and _ business
houses throughout the city were
warned not to accept the stolen checks.

A week passed and the date of Tay-
lor’s trial approached. Thén on the
morning of Sept. 1, two young men

_ walked into a business house -at 6th

and Main Streets, and asked to have a
check cashed. As identification, one
of the men proffered a driver’s license.

The proprietor took one look at the

check and recognized it from the
police bulletin as a forgery from the

looted check-cashing establishment.

XERCISING commendable fore-
thought the man decided to spar
for time. “Boys,” he said, “I’m sorry I

haven’t got that much money. But 1.

think I can help you.”
-. He picked. up a card and scribbled
an address. “Take this to the drug
store at 4th and Hill,” he directed.
“Tell them I sent you and they’ll cash
your check.”

The pair thanked the man and
walked out. No sooner had they dis-

-appeared than the man grabbed the-

telephone and called police headquar-
ters.

Four officers responded. They were
Detective Lieutenants J. R. Bennett
and R. Sanders of the forgery squad
and Frank Beeson and Ralph Gaf-
faney of the Robbery Detail.

The detectives had scarcely sta-
tioned themselves inside the store
when the two suspects walked in and
asked to cash a check. Beeson stepped

forward. “You’re under arrest,” he
announced. “We’re taking you to
headquarters.” —

A search revealed one of the men
was carrying a brown paper bag. When
Beeson examined it he was startled to
see that it contained a .38 caliber
police positive Colt revolver, fully
loaded. But the most astounding thing
was the driver’s license which the
man had tried to use for identification.
It was made out to Fletcher Marsh
and had been stolen in the robbery of
Marsh’s establishment on March 2. ~

At headquarters the obvious leader
of the two gave his name as Albert J.
Simeone, 33. It was Simeone who car-
ried ‘the gun and who admitted its
ownership. .. eee

Then, as Simeone went through the

routine of fingerprinting and ques-.

tioning at headquarters, the detective
bureau was immediately struck by a

. peculiar coincidence. The forgery sus-

pect bore an amazing resemblance to
Charles M. Taylor, who was awaiting

trial for the murder of Joseph Mar-

tinez. ,

Captain Thad Brown was imme-
diately called into the fingerprint de-
partment to view the prisoner. He or-
dered a thorough investigation of Al-

oe

BAFFLING DETECTIVE

bert Simeone and a test of his gun
with the bullet recovered in the Mar-
tinez murder.. ; om

As soon as Russell Camp, the bal-
listic expert, had time to make the
necessary test Captain Brown knew
he had a new angle on the Martinez
murder. As the expert entered the
captain’s office Brown looked up ex-
pectantly. Camp nodded. “This is it,”
he declared. “Simeone’s gun is posi-
tively the weapon that killed Martinez.
We've just checked it.”

Captain Brown called up the dis-
trict attorney’s office. “We’ve got to
hold up Taylor’s trial,” he announced.
“We have new evidence in the case.”

Assistant District Attorney Thomas
W. Cochran now entered the investi-
gation, which had been placed in
charge of Lieutenant Lloyd’ Hurst,
with Stoner and Thaxter of the Rob-
bery Detail still working on it.

Captain Brown issued an order to

the crime laboratory department to

check Simeone’s gun with every other.

unsolved crime on the books in which
a bullet was involved. “We want to
see what else he’s been up to,” he

_ explained.

. While this checkup went on, Hurst,
Cochran and the robbery bureau de-
tectives questioned Simeone who re-
fused to talk. Hurst and Stoner went
to the man’s address and searched his
room. They found a blue pin-stripe
suit and a gray turtle neck sweater,
described in the Martinez slaying.
They also found a .blue mountain
jacket, described in the murder of
Jack Asch. ;

In Simeone’s automobile they found

seven more of the round-nosed, re-
load bullets which fitted the Colt re-
volver taken from the brown paper
bag. Mier.
- When questioned about the gun
Simeone admitted that it had never
been out of. his possession since he got
it. He claimed, however, that he had
bought the gun long after the murder
of Martinez.

Answering Hurst’s questions, he
first claimed he bought the gun
through an ad in the paper but he
couldn’t remember. where.
either in Temple or El Monte,” he
said, “but I can’t recall the name o
the man who sold it to me.”

As.the prisoner continued with his
vague explanation Hurst’ asked him
to recall some other event that had
occurred about the time he purchased
the gun. Simeone pondered. At last
he said, “Well, I cashed a check at
the bank in Rosemead to pay for the
gun. I’m not sure of the date but it
was some time in April.”

Hurst called the bank. “Simeone’s
account in this bank was closed last
January,” the bank official said.

And January, Hurst remembered,

“It was:

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BAFFLING DETECTIVE |

Young Jordants father didn’t know
much about him. He had been living

at the house until three or four weeks -

ago when he had decided to travel

south and no one had heard from him

since that time. ; '
Sauer left the Jordan home and was
on his way to the Phoenixville police

headquarters when he met Raymond

Morris, one of the town’s policemen
and an old friend. After greetings
were exchanged, Sauer asked, “Ray,
do you know John D. Jordan?”

“Sure, he was released from the
penitentiary a few months ago.”

“That’s the man. Have you seen him
recently?” x

“Last time I saw him he was down
at the railroad station about ten days
ago. Is he in trouble?” |

“We think he’s the man who killed
Harvey Emery: If you see him again,
grab him.” :

Further interrogation in the town
revealed no new lead on the suspect.
The officers once more returned to
Chester County. ~

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The next break in the case came on
November 16. Chief Ira T. Chapman
of Kannapolis, N.C., on opening his
morning mail, found it to contain the
‘wanted criminal’ flyer of John Jordan
from the Chester County officials- at
West Chester, Pa. a va

At intervals that morning, Chap-
man studied the picture and descrip-
tion of Jordan. At noon, on his way
to lunch, he put the flyer in his pocket.

After lunch he hopped into. his
parked car and drove out his driveway
but oncoming traffic forced him to
stop his machine across the sidewalk
thus blocking passersby. One pedes-
trian paused by Chapman’s car and

_ waited for him to move on. The Chief

glanced at the man then looked again
with startled unbelief.
“Hey you!”. Chapman snapped
brusquely, “get in this car.”
‘The man saw the officer’s uniform
and obeyed without a protest. Neither

(Continued from page 47)
young, in his late twenties,” one of
the women said. “He was dressed in a
blue pin-stripe suit, with a gray hat,
and a turtle. neck sweater that came
up around his ears.”

“Did he speak to anyone else in the
cafe?” Cooper asked. “Did you notice
anyone who appeared to know him?”

The gunman had talked to no one

one spoke until they reached the de-
tective’s office at police headquarters
Chapman pointed to a chair and said,
“Sit down. You’re John Jordan, aren’t

__. “Yes,” the man admitted, “but I’
_haven’t done anything.” aes:

Jordan was searched and keys and

a silver watch, later identified as those _
«missing from Emery’s pocket, were ™

found in the suspect’s possession. The

gun which had killed the popular ;

farmer was never found.

In response to Chief Chapman’s :

wire, Sauer and Grubb drove to Kan.

napolis, N.C., and secured-their pris-

oner.
During the first part of the long
drive from Kannapolis to West

' Chester, Jordan insistently denied

that he had anything to do with the
murder. The officers didn’t bother him

with questions, but conversed with —

him freely on other topics. Their

tactics had the desired effect. Before’ ©

the trip was half over’ Jordan came
forth with the free admission that he
had killed Emery because the farmer
had at one time ordered him off his
farm. Jordan later confessed he had
slain Emery because he thought the
elderly man carried a large sum of

money on his person. The killer also

told the officers that, after abandoning
the getaway car at Porters Bridge,
Md., he had hitchhiked to Baltimore.
Then, believing he was not suspected,
he had returned to Phoenixville.
There he had seen. the newspapers
giving a description of the “hobo.”
Afraid someone might recognize him
as the wanted fugitive, he had started
south again.

John Davis Jordan was found guilty . .

of first degree murder by a Chester
County jury and on April 15, 1935 he
was sentenced to'death by Judge W.
Butler Windle. ie SA

On December 8, 1935, Jordan was
electrocuted at “Rockview Peniten-
tiary, Bellefonte, Pa.. -

—

the whole time he was there. He had
just stood at the bar, drinking and
playing the same tune on the juke
box. When closing time came, he had
walked out by himself. The. others
corroborated this testimony but could
offer no reason why Mr. Martinez had
been so brutally shot.

Cooper and Tracy went over their ~
reports with Captain Thomas R. Bryan

is

- tain Brow

tives mad

~ ‘tenant Coc

tinez shoot

_ still witho
_ quiet, harx

let them ‘¢

‘roled convi

-suddenly ic

-the Chino |!

_years befor
_ violator of )
. time in San

: Cooper said
photo of the

evidence \

of the bu
body, hac
ballistic d

fore pullir
seem to fe:

Investig:
der was sti

Was assign

Two day
tinez di:

suggestion.
to. be an .
That’s on o
the waitre
him if they
take them

Maybe _ thx
there as th
“That m
“It’ll give
anyway.”
Mrs. Ma
willingly a:
At headque
the book c

tions. They
eral dozen }

her husban
»~ Cooper :
photo eage:
M. Taylor,

Taylor hz
As a youthf
first come t

rested as‘a

transferred
“He coul

given of the
Asch. | _


pocket, were.
‘ossession. The |

| the popular
1 eis

ef Chapman’s

drove to Kan.

ced their pris-_

t of the long
lis to West
tently denied
2 do with the
n’t bother him
mversed with
topics. Their
‘effect. Before’
Jordan came
ission that he
se the farmer
d him off his
fessed he had
2 thought the
large sum of

‘he killer also™

or abandoning
rters Bridge,
t timore.
x pected,
Phoenixville.
2 newspapers

the “hobo.”
‘ecognize him
ie had started

3 found guilty
by a Chester
‘il 15, 1935 he
by Judge W.

Jordan was
ew Peniten-

ere. He had
lrinking and
on the juke
Ci he had

others
Ny wus could
Martinez had

at over their ee
nas R. Bryan Bt:

ti

of the Hollenbeck station and the ms

evidence was also checked with Cap-
tain Brown. But it was not until one
of the bullets, taken from Martinez’
body, had been turned over to the

ballistic: department that the detec- |

tives made their first startling dis-
covery in the case. ‘
The bullet was the same ay ee aad

same type as that which had blasted

the life from Jack Asch!

“It’s the same man,” Captain Brown
summed up. “He’s getting bolder,
hanging around bars all evening be-
fore pulling a job. He doesn’t even
seem to fear identification.” _.

Investigation of the J ack Asch mur-
der was still being pushed. Now Lieu-
tenant Cooper, with Tracy to aid him,
was assigned to investigate the Mar-

tinez shooting.

Two days bates. on March 11, Mar-.

tinez died and the detectives were

still without a lead. But Cooper, a

quiet, hard-working detective, had a
suggestion.. “This rhan is too smooth
to be an amateur,” he pointed out.

That’s on our side. Mrs. Martinez and

the waitresses declare they’d know
him if they ever saw him again. Let’s

take them down to headquarters and -
let them go through our mug files. -

Maybe they can identify someone
there as the killer.”

“That may do it,” agreed Tracy.
pg ai give us something to work on,
anyway.’

Mrs. Martinez and the waitresses
willingly agreed to the officers’ plan.
At headquarters they were first shown
the book containing pictures of pa-
roled convicts from California institu-
tions. They had glanced through sev-
eral dozen photos when Mrs. Martinez
suddenly identified one of the men as
her husband’s slayer. é

Cooper and Tracy looked at the
photo eagerly. It was that of Charles
M. Taylor, 25-year-old parolee from

‘the Chino honor prison. .

Taylor had a long criminal record.
As a youthful burglary suspect he had

first come to police notice some twelve.
-years before. He had also been ar-

rested as'‘an auto thief, robber and
violator of probation. He had served
time in San Quentin in.1941 and was
transferred to Chino in 1943.

“He could certainly be the man,”
Cooper said, mentally comparing the
photo of the parolee with descriptions
given of the murderer of Martinez and
Asch,

The two. detectives immediately de-
cided to take Taylor into custody.
They checked first with the parole
office, only to receive startling news.

- Charles Taylor had -: violated his
parole. On the day following the

Martinez murder he had secretly left ©
,. Los Angeles and gone to San Fran-

~

“was no one to alibi him.

f

BAFFLING DETECTIVE

cisco ‘with friends. He was already
‘ being sought by parole authorities.

Another. day passed while officers
kept watch at the man’s usual haunts.
On the night of March 14 Lieutenant
Cooper got a hurry-up call that Tay-| ©
lor had returned. He and Tracy
rushed to the man’s home and took
him into custody. Five persons were
with Taylor and all were taken to the
Hollenbeck station.

‘Taylor was immediately identified
by witnesses as the murderer of Mar-
tinez. But, questioned on the crime,

‘the prisoner denied his guilt. He ac-

counted for his time up to the hour of
midnight, the time when Martinez had
been shot. But from midnight to 1:30
of the fatal night, he admitted there
“I was alone
during that time,” he said ruefully.
Police searched his home and found
a .38 revolver which was turned over
to the ballistic department. The others

_ arrested with Taylor were soon re-

leased but as Mrs. Martinez and the

two other women witnesses continued

to declare that Taylor looked like the

killer, he was held. A ballistic test of |
his gun, however, did not check with }

the lethal slugs. He had either dis-
carded the murder weapon or detec-
tives Cooper and Tracy were on the
wrong trail. Hour after hour they
questioned the man but his answers
remained the same. At last Cooper
asked, “What’s your favorite drink,
Taylor?”

“Scotch and soda,” he said promptly.

It was another small link in the
chain of evidence. Taylor was, duly
charged with the murder and a pre-
liminary hearing was held in the court
of Municipal Judge C. Newell Carns

‘on April 21. At the hearing, Taylor

was again identified by witnesses who
were sure he was the murderer of
Martinez. Judge Carns ordered him
held for trial in Superior Court on
the testimony presented. :
” Meanwhile detectives tried to
strengthen their case. They talked
again and again with the prisoner. The
officers were troubled by certain con-
tradictory aspects of the investigation.
For one thing, Taylor had a witness
who declared -he was at another ad-
dress up to the hour of the crime. Yet
it was known that the killer remained
in the Martinez bar from 10 o’clock
until midnight. And the only gun that
could be connected with Taylor was
not the murder weapon.

Against that the officers had ‘the

identification of witnesses in the Mar-
tinez case, although witnesses to the
Jack Asch slaying were not so posi-

tive. Then they had the additional

fact that Taylor had broken his parole
and fled town the day after Martinez
had been' shot. And they knew that
by his own admission he was addicted

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BAFFLING DETECTIVE

to drinking scotch and soda regularly.

Shortly after the preliminary hear-
ing trial of the ex-convict was called
in Superior Judge Arthur Crum’s
court defense counsel asked for a
continuance and the case was post-
poned until September 5. Every offi-
cer on the case welcomed: this move.
It gave them an opportunity to find
additional evidence against Taylor or
to prove that they had the wrong man.

Lieutenant Cooper, who had made
the arrest, declared his dissatisfaction
with results of the investigation. “We
haven’t enough evidence against Tay-
lor,” he told Tracy. “I have a.feeling
he may not be guilty.” - .

But one fact still continued to point
an accusing finger against the pris-
oner. Since Taylor’s arrest there had

. been no more raids by the lone killer.

Five days after the suspect gained
a continuance of his trial, however, a
bandit walked into a cafe on Long
Beach Boulevard, South Gate, and
blazed away at the proprietor, Virgil
H. Wehrman, and his wife, Cleo, kill-
ing them both even as they were at-
tempting to accede to his demands.

Deputy Sheriffs Emmett Love and
E. M. Renfro sped to the scene, to-

rs

gee ae.” ee

:

Attractive Mrs.

Polly Saunders (above), 24-yea
geoned to death with a hatchet while she slept in her home at Huntington, W. Va.

¥

gether with South Gate police, “f
place had been crowded with custom
ers but in the excitement that folloy
the sudden shooting the killer. ha
escaped without anyone getting a d
scription. :

ying,

The officers ‘had nothing to go on,
except that one bullet, removed from *

the body of Wehrman, was the same
caliber and type as the others. — ~

Were there two men working the
same type of crime around. Los An-
geles? Or did Taylor have a partner
who was now using the murderer’s
gun to carry on the heartless holdup

slayings? Surely, police thought, with

three witnesses making positive iden-
tification in the Martinez slaying,
there could not be a mistake.

Months slid by, and no more of the
strange crimes were reported. It was
the last week in August when addi-

tional developments brought the case

into new focus.
The Robbery Detail received a re-
port that: two men had held up and
robbed a check-cashing establishment
on South Broadway. Among the loot
they took were a number of blank
checks, filled in with the name of the

firm that was robbed. Information on

Se oe §
> oes

r-old wife of a sailor, was blud-

CTR

dered a

theft of t
the Forg
houses t
warned n
A week
lor’s trial
morning «

- walked in
and Main
check eas
of the mer
‘The prop

- police bul
-  Jooted che

XERCI
thoug]
for time.. ‘
haven’t gc
think I car
- He pick
an’ addres:
store at 4
“Tell them
your chec
30 2The © pai
walked ou
-appeared 1
telephone :
ters.

Four offi
Detective |
and R. Sar
and Frank
faney of th
_ The det
tioned the
when the t
asked to ca

- forward. ‘
announced.
headquarte

A search
was carryin
Beeson exa
see that i
police pos
loaded. Bu
was the d
man had tri
It was mac
and had be«
Marsh’s est:

At headq
of the two 5

Simeone, 32
‘ried ‘the. gu
‘ownership.
Then, as ‘
routine of
tioning at h
-bureau was
. peculiar coi
pect bore a
Charles M. '

trial for the

tinez, “a.
Captain
diately calle
partment to
tho
“an

tae


Quickly Abreo notified the police as
re Battalion Chief Edward O’Neil arrived
{an and took charge of the fire.

Within a few minutes Police Inspec-
ould tors Harry Husted and George Engler

en of the Homicide Squad arrived at the
ing little, one-story frame building and be-
Ie gan a thorough investigation.

jd On the floor at one side of the pil-

entl laged store lay a small, red-spattered,

brown, paper bag. Nearby lay a

ca set of false teeth. Engler stooped.

ut In the bag were half a dozen choc-

1 olate éclairs. What a combina-
tha tion!—Eclairs and false teeth!

Wa A scarlet trail seemed to lead to-

Y bre: ward the living-quarters in the rear

of the store.
Inspector Husted saw spots on
the the cooky box—the box that had

ttered held the éclairs. He could see the
imed shiny brown delicacies through the
glass.

ema Following the scarlet trail, the men
jel went up the flight of four steps at the rear
the of the store, through the kitchen and into
ib the bedroom. The place had been ransacked
cover with a ruthless hand. Papers and insurance
policies were scattered about the floor. A hole,
n0k almost like a human body in shape, was burned
iting | into the bedroom floor. :
t did Stepping into the bathroom, they bent over

=> Kg

=m

coe i c
crawls to Na, Bedroom

© | bath-room *
o|where body Me: ps
7] © lwas found yy soaked
with oilyand set
L oe? afire.

_ Kitchen / ana?

*

Cash Gmpty ‘Store
Register ’ WwW

all ¥

signs of st ruggle LL f

6 UN

Diagram of the interior of the grocery store and living-quarters of
“Mother” Voorhies, who was tortured and burned to death in one of
the most wanton murders in the crime annals of San Francisco

San Francisco’s Startling Torture Atrocity o1

the charred form that
once had been a beauti-
ful woman. Bits of
burned rope about the
hands and feet gave un-
mistakable evidence of
inhuman cruelty. Had
she been bound and tor-
tured to make her di-
vulge the hiding place of
her money and_ her
jewels?

But a bracelet on her
arm glittered mockingly.
What a tale it would tell
if only it could. Inspec-
tor Husted stooped to in-
spect it but his hands

never touched it. He had
seen something else. He

reached out and clutched a cap.

In bis baste, the murderer had
forgotten it.

The cap was of unusual design.
Known as a “golfer’s air-vent”
style, it had nine ventilation hoies
across the front. It was gray, with
a wide herring-bone pattern in the

cloth. The cloth was sewed to
the visor instead of being held

in place with the usual snap.
The cap was size seven and
one-eighth and was trade-
marked “Johnson and
Nordquist, 740 Clement
Street.”

The detectives made
their way down into the
store again, stopping
long enough to examine
the cash-register. It was
empty.

Murder, arson and robbery, all had been com-
mitted in the little building in this peaceful, quiet
neighborhood. Half a dozen families lived within
a stone’s throw. Did anyone know of the mur-
der? Had anyone heard the little old woman's
screams as she was being tortured to death?

Mrs. Evans Carr,
daughter of ‘‘Mother”
Voorhies

NEWSPAPER extras were soon on the street.

The people of San Francisco gasped at the
thought that such a revolting crime could
have been committed on the outskirts of their
city.

They deeply sympathized with Mrs. Evans
Carr, of 1355 Willard Street, daughter of the
murdered woman who, prostrate with grief,
begged between sobs that the police do everything
in their power to find the murderer of her mother.
Public indignation rose high.

WHO OWNS THIS CAP? were the huge head-
lines which accompanied the picture of the cap
in all the daily papers. Who did’ own the cap?
Finding the owner would mean the solution of
the most brutal, fiendish murder in the crime an-
nals of San Francisco.

Detectives immediately set out to run down
the cap clue—the only trace left of the mur-
derer.

Nordquist, the haberdasher at 740 Clement
Street, where the purchase had been made, said
that he was positive he could identify the buyer
of the cap if he saw him. But he could give no
accurate description of the man who had bought it.

ig ee
age

standing

Acrid smoke swirling densely
through the little corner
greenish-yellow flames
venomously at a feminine figure
sprawled across the floor—firemen
aghast!
lay behind this appalling spectacle?

ocery—

licking

What mystery

View of San Francisco, Cal-

ifornia, beautiful city at the

Golden Gate, and scene of
this strange torture tale

HE first soft light of
early dawn was
breaking over the
damp woods of Gold-
en Gate Park as the
last gay revelers straggled
from Tait’s, “Shorty” Rob-
erts’ and other famed San
Francisco beach resorts.

In groups of twos and
threes, they sought their luxu-
tious cars. There was the
sound of grinding gears, the
tooting of horns; and they
were off—racing along the
smooth, wide boulevard par-
alleling the Ocean. Voices
and the laughter of beauti-
fully-gowned women floated
back on the air as they sped
through the darkness of Kirk-
ham Place on their way back
to the City.

Slowly it grew lighter.
Here and there an alarm
clock broke the stillness to
announce the new day—Feb-
ruary 16th, 1931—to some
early toiler. Little by little
the houses began to show
signs of life; curtains went

ee Ray 25 Sa ee

Mrs. Albina Chabot Voorhies, proprietor of the
grocery store and victim of the torture murder

Eo
ree =6AALLEN MCGINN

ng

MASTER DETECTIVE, November, 1931

By Inspector

Head of the

San Francisco Police
Homicide Squad

As told to

F. L. DIEFENDORF
of the

San Francisco, (Calif. )
News

up, doors opened and closed.
Mrs. Elizabeth Neil, who
lived with her husband at
1517 Forty-eighth Avenue,
hurried from her house,
cream bottle in hand. She
hastened to the little neigh-
borhood grocery store next
door, that was run by
“Mother” Voorhies.

EVERYONE. called her

“Mother” because she was
so kindly to the children. No
mother in that neighborhood
hesitated to send her smallest
child to the little store for
any forgotten or needed

49


50 The

article. They were always welcome and were well treated.

Mrs. Neil was thinking that Mrs. Albina Chabot Voor-
ates Was the sixty-five-year-old widow of Albert Van
\oorhies, a prominent attorney of San Francisco twenty-five
years ago. How well the kindly, little old lady fitted into
the community of working people in which she lived.

Her husband was supposed to have left her a tidy sum of
insurance money, and rumors had been heard that she kept
it hidden somewhere about her little store. “Rather an ec-
centric,” thought Mrs. Neil.

“| wonder if she'll be up yet?” she mused, as she knocked
on the front door of the grocery. There was no answer. It
seemed strange that at 7 in the morning there was no sign
of Mrs. Voorhies.

With a slight foreboding, Mrs. Neil tried the door. She
gently opened it a little way
—the odor of burning kero-
sene and smoke met her nos-
trils.

“Mother!” she cried.

No answer came from. the
smoke-filled store:
Just a heavy, dead
silence. A moment
she hesitated, then
turned and ran to
call her husband.

Putting down his
shaving brush, Alex-
ander Neil hastened
with his wife to the
little store. Fling-
Ing Open the door
he was blinded by
the clouds of
acrid smoke

Master

Detective

which greeted him. Racing to the red box on the cornet
of Forty-eighth Avenue and Kirkham Place, Neil turned in
an alarm.

Moments passed, the smoke became so thick Neil could
not force his way into the little store. It seemed the fire en-
gines would never come. Finally, with siren screaming.
Number Forty-five engine of the San Francisco Fire De-
partment hurtled down the street and came to a quick, jar-
ring stop before the little grocery store at 1515 Forty-eignth
Avenue.

Lieutenant Manuel Abreo leaped to the sidewalk and car-
rying axe apd fire extinguisher, battled his way through the
dense smoke to the living-quarters in the rear of the store.

A feeling of nausea came over him at the spectacle that
met his smarting eyes. Veteran fireman though he was,

and accustomed to nerve-racking sights, Abreo
felt a chill of horror go through his being.

YING on the tiled bathroom floor was the
4 burning body of a woman. Flames sputtered
as they licked at the still form and consumed
its few remaining shreds of clothing.

After the first feeling of revulsion, the fireman
proceeded to put out the flames. A few jets
from the extinguisher smothered the
blaze on the floor. Still nauseated by
the ghastly sight, he hastened to cover
the figure with a blanket.

Above the ordinary odor of smoke
Abreo could easily detect the penetrating
smell of kerosene. He gasped. What did
it mean? Removing the blankets, he
gazed once more at what had once been
a living woman. Charred bits of rope
still clung to her hands and feet.

Could it be—was it murder?

Inspector George Eng-
ler of the San Francisco
Police Homicide Squad,
examining the gray cap
found at the scene of
the crime and the only
clue to its perpetrator

SPREE ts thee

i

Quick
lO
oO}
vy itil)
tors Ha
of the !
little, or
gan a t}
On tt
laged st
brown,’
set of f:
In the b
olate é
tion!—}
A scat
ward th
of the st
Inspec
the coo}
held the
shiny b
glass.
Follow
went up
of the s
the bed
with a
policies
almost
into the
Step}


275 P onde 31,

SIMPSON, Henry C., white, 62, asphyxiated San Quentin (Stanislaus) on 10-l)-1957.

"The sole remaining hope of Henry C. Simpson, 62, of Modesto, 60 escape execution to-
morrow for the proxy slaying of his wife rested today in the U, S, Court of Appeals,
Benjamin M, Davis, court appointed attorney, said Gov, Goodwin Knight's office had
informed him the governor could 'find no grounds for executive clemency.' Davis’
sought a stay of execution from the appellate court so he could have time to get a
transcript of action before Federal District Judge Michael J. Roche.

"after a habeas corpus hearing at which Simpson was present, Judge Roche ruled that
Simpson had failed to prove his allegations that his conviction resulted from per-
jured testimony during his trial in Modesto, according to the Assooiated Press, The
full record of the hearing has not been transcribed, Simpson has *aken a pauper's
oath and has no money to pay the $250 costs, Davis sought time to appeal to Washing=—
ton for the government to foot the bill, The appellate court had asked for the trans-
cripts on the attorney's request for a review of Judge Roche's decision, Simpson

was convicted July 31, 1953, of inducing his son, Clarence, then 13, to kill Simpson's
wife, Vivian, 1,3." BEE, Modesto, California, Oct. 3, 1957 (25:8.)

"Bible in hand, Henry C, Simpson, 62, Modesto carpenter, went to his death in the
state gas chamber today for inducing his teenage son to kill Mrs, Simpson with a
rifle. Simpson, after refusing breakfast and taking only a cup of coffee, entered
the gas chamber at 10:03 AM, The life he paid for the proxy murder ebbed out at
10:12 AM, During last night, Simpson had spent considerable time talking about re-
ligion and reading his Bible, He slept from midnight until 7:5 AM.

"At his request, he was permitted to carry his Bible to the gas chamber, Accompanying
him on the last walk was the prison's Catholic chaplain, Father Edward J, Dingberg.
Simpson was convicted July 31, 1953, of inducing his son, Clarence, then 13, to kill
his own mother, Vivian, 3, The husband and wife had quarreled frequently, Simpson
lost his last bid for life yesterday afternoon when the U, S, Court of Appeals in San
Francisco refused to stay his execution, He thanked Warden Fred R, Dickson for good
treatment while awaiting execution and said he held no grudge against anyone, Asso-=-
ciate Warden Louis Nelson said Simpson ate a huge dinner of fried chicken, French
fries and several pieces of pie last night - so much, that he told the guards: 'I made
a pig of myself, Simpson was convicted by a jury of 10 women and two men of first de-
gree murder. He was placed in San Quentin's death row on August 21, 1953, His son,
Clarence, was put in custody of the California Youth Authority. The U. S,. District
Court in San Francisco held a hearing last July on Simpson's contention that he was
convicted on perjured testimony, and that some witnesses against him testified under
prosecution pressure. Simpson and his wife had quarreled violently over a period of
years, The man's stepson, Donald .Dodge, now 20, of Modesto, testified in the fede-
ral court hearings that he had heard Simpson say'quite a few times'that he was going
to have Clarence shoot the mother 'and make it look like an accident," Dodge related
that he feared his stepfather and ran away from home, Mrs, Simpson was standing near
a door of her home when she was hit by a .22 rifle bullet fired from the back yarde
The death was at first thought to have been accidental, Clarence insisted during

his original trial that his mother was killed by a stray bullet and that there was

no conspiracy between him and his father, But at the July federal court hearing, the
son answered 'yes' when asked if he had fired the fatal shot. His father stared an-
erily at him from across the courtroom, Clarenece then, for the first time, — admit=
ted the shooting had followed a plan urged repeatedly by his father." BEE, Modesto,
CA, 10-l-1957 (1: = Photograph of Simpson on this page ‘and column.)


» police con-
N. Poulsen

saaen.
wv,” he. said.
» to work on

d murder in
ulsen, a vet-

tain, laughed
haven’t got
i slug and a

’ said Poul-
as robbery.”
ed Rosaaen.
{arames may

an enemy in
Something
him.”
*xamined the
lsen initiated
eapon. Char-
. and of the
dentation on
9 makes of
scharged the

ypes quickly
@un of the
ne in North-
forwarded to
matics were
ck Fuller in
crime labora-
‘as fired. and
iurder bullet
cope. Each
robbery sus-
gated by the

what looked
‘orld sources
med Richard
Idups around
ig San Lean-
said he had
»wn a mous-
n his jobs.
‘ast Oakland
lice was put
irrested.

1 Dillard, an
prison road
‘isco as the
vern stickups
ture was an

irifin Dillard
to the weary
man was in

-d.

ik San Lean-
murder cases
reak came.

Hayward po-
aamoureux in

ig,” he said.
ellow named
e Santa Rita
-y theft. He
1ation.”

Wright. He
ne to see his
nething about
ll pick her up

vith difficulty.
i the juvenile
blonde, over-
other.

1. suspicion at
<nowing any-

thing about the murder. Her only admis-

sion was that she was Forrest Wright’s

sweetheart.

When Chief Forth told Wright of the
girl’s denials, he suggested bringing her to
the farm for questioning in his presence.
There, Wright quickly. broke down her
reticence.

“Honey, you can’t keep still about a mur-
der,” he said’ “Friends are friends, but we
don’t want big trouble.”

Gwen’s surface toughness crumbled, leav-
ing before the officers a frightened girl,
ready for tears. “Why did I ever get in
this?” she sobbed. “I was there the night
the man was killed.”

“You and who’ else?” demanded Lamou-
reux.

“Me and: Eddie Sexton.”

“Sexton, eh?” said Forth. “We know
him, Art. One of our tough punks. He’s in
jail in Oakland now, on a robbery-assault
charge. Friend of yours, too, isn't he,
Wright ?”

. Wright nodded.

“Wright’s in, the- clear, though,” Forth
explained to Lamoureux. “He was in jail
at the time of the shooting. All right, Gwen,
give us the whole story.” ©

The girl related that Sexton, who was
working as a delivery boy for a Hayward

butcher, picked her up the evening of Sep-~

tember TI for a ride into Oakland. Sexton
had his boss’ Cadillac sedan to deliver a
dressed hog to a downtown restaurant. .

On the way she told Sexton she needed
money to raise bail for Wright.

“Eddie said he knew a Greek in Rich-
mond who would pay me if I were friendly
to him,” she continued. “We drove out
there to a restaurant. Eddie arranged for
me to meet this man .and waited in the car.
The man paid me $5.

*“When I came out Eddie said he knew an
easier way than that to make money, | He
said he knew a Greek he could hold up.”

Gwen said Sexton then drove to Harames .

market and parked across the street until
the grocer started to close about 2 a.m.

“Then Eddie drove out near the old man’s
house and parked until he drove into his
driveway,” Gwen continued. “Eddie took a
pistol out of the glove compartment .

Lamoureux interrupted. “What kind of
gun was it?”

“It was some kind of an automatic.”

“Where is the gun now?” ;
: “He told me later it was thrown in the
ay.”
e The girl resumed her story. “Eddie took
this pistol. I begged him not to, but he said
he wouldn’t have to use it. He slammed a
clip into the gun and walked toward the
driveway. .

“A minute later I heard a shot and Eddie
came running back. He said he had to
shoot him because the man tried to start the

truck. Then he said, ‘Oh, well, he was old

enough to die anyway.’”

Sexton left her off at her tie after warn-
ing her not to speak of the crime. “And
that’s all I know about it,” she added defi-
antly.

“Td say that’s quite a lot,” returned
Lamoureux. “By your own admission you
were an accomplice in a murder. Are you
sure there wasn’t anybody beside you and
Sexton?” |

“Nobody else. It was all his idea. I

didn’t want that kind of~money.”
* Gwen was placed in the county juvenile
detention home while Poulsen and Rosaaen
began the arduous task: of checking her
story.

Harold Edward Sexton was first. They

learned that this 22-year-old Hayward hood-
lum had been a lawbreaker since he was 12.
His record included a term in the Sonoma
State Home as a psycho-delinquent in 1942,

Se dt ge oe aR

Army desertion in 1946, jail terms for
drunkenness and vagrancy, and many arrests

. on charges of robbery, auto theft and gun

law violations.

He was presently held on a charge of slug-
ging a service station: operator with a. tire
iron on the course of an attempted robbery
on September 9.

In the jail cell the officers found a lean,
sallow, hollow-cheeked youth with a smoul-
dering hatred for policemen in his eyes. The
mere sight of the two officers set his Adam’s
apple bobbing angrily in his long, ropy neck.

“Hello, Eddie,” said Poulsen:

Sexton only stared at him.

Do you know’a Greek merchant named
par Harames, Eddie?” Poulsen asked
soft

“Never heard of him,”
unblinking.

“You know Gwen Farmer?”

“Tf I do, what of it?”

“Gwen told us an interesting story about
you, Eddie. About how you tried to hold up
the old Greek and shot him.”

Sexton looked away. “That's a lot of
baloney. I don’t know what you're ‘talking
about.”

“We've got the dope on you, Eddie,” in-
terrupted Rosaaen. “Save yourself a lot of
, trouble.”

answered Sexton,

_. “You’ve got nothing on me and you know ‘|
it. Now get out of here,:or I’ll call for my

lawyer.”

“Your last chance, Sexton. Play ball and
make it lighter on -yourself. Give us the
‘story.”

. “I wouldn’t give you meatheads the time
of. day,” snarled Sexton. °

The next stop for ‘the officers was the.

-butcher shop of Mike Phillis, Sexton’s erst-
while employer in Hayward. They learned
that Sexton did have Phillis’ car the fatal
night, for an Oakland delivery.

“Do you have any customers in Rich-
mond?” asked Poulsen, anxious to find. the
Greek restauranteur Gwen had mentioned.

See Counterman

Phillis suggested a man named Nick
Anander, a counterman who had formerly
lived in Hayward. He had a restaurant
somewhere north of Oakland.

Poulsen and Rosaaen spent most of the’

day tramping from one to another of Rich-
mond’s numerous Greek eating places. Suc-
cess eluded them until nightfall, when they
ordered a cup of coffee in a place called the
Powderhorn Cafe.

The counterman turned out to be Anander ;
he quickly identified. a picture of Sexton.
Reluctantly, he admitted Sexton and the girl
had come out to visit him the’ night of Sep-
tember 1.

“Was there anyone else with them when
he and the girl were here that night?” asked
Poulsen.

“Sure. <A little short, dark fella. Sat
right over there and had a cuppa coffee with
the girl.”
~” Gwen admitted a little ,later that she had
not, told the whole truth.

“That was Don,” she said. “He was with
us, but I left him out because he’s a good
kid I’d- hate to see in trouble.”

She did not know. Don’s last name. He
lived in Hayward; she said, and had four
brothers, the eldest George and the youngest
Jerry, about ten. With this meager. in-
formation, the officers searched Hayward

juvenile records for a youth who ae

this family, description.

They were rewarded by a file on Dominic
L. Silva, 22: He had a long record of mis-
demeanors, ‘including shoplifting, pete theft,
auto stripping and battery. Significantly, he
had been in the Sonoma State Home the
same time as Sexton.

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(Continued from page 35)

CAST OF CHARACTERS

“Harry K. Harames............the victim

Richard Griffin............-.am ex-convict
Forrest Wright........ aoe eG, petty thief
Gwen Farmer............--his girlfriend
Harold E. Sexton.........+.+--@ hoodfum
Dominic Silva......--++0+5 veeeee his pal
Artel Lamoureux.San Leandro police chief
George Forth......Hayword police chief

_Ashman bent over him, gently loosening
his grocer’s smock, Blood was oozing from
small wounds on either side of his waist.

“What happened?” Ashman asked.

- “Thisa man—he shoot me,” groaned the
victim.

“Why ?”

“T don’t know. I never see him in’ my
life. He want my money.”

“What did he look like, Mr. Harames?”

“He’s a tall, young fella, very thin.”
Harames pressed his cheeks with his hands
to picture a cadaverous . face. “He’s a
maybe 40 year old—dressed like a soldier,
in a khaki.” -

Harames then lapsed into incoherent bab-
bling and semi-consciousness from which he
never aroused. An ambulance whisked him
to Fairmont Hospital.

Ashman learned from neighbors, that
Harames kept his Oakland market open
until 2 a.M. nightly, and usually arrived
home about this time. ‘

Gill told of hearing an auto drive away,
and another resident said he heard the foot-
steps of two men running after the shot.

Another neighbor said he came to his
front door in time to see Harames stumble .
from his truck, stagger a few steps and col-
lapse in the driveway.

The Bullet

Ashman and Kirk trained searchlights on
the drive and began a search for evidence.
The sergeant was rewarded with the discov-
ery of a .32 caliber slug near where Harames
had lain. -

“It must have: fallen from his clothing
when they put him on the stretcher,” he told
Kirk.

They turned to the truck. It was in low
gear with the ignition switch still on. Kirk
ran his flashlight beam carefully over the in-
terior of the cab. He was just backing out
when his light shone on'a small brass object
in the windshield moulding.

“Look at this.’ He handed a Winchester

| 32 shell case to Ashman. “The old guy

was shot in the de. the gun was fired
rat in the cab beside him.”
othing else of interest was discovered at

the scene, but at the hospital Harry Ha-
rames’ wallet was found untouched in his
clothing. It contained $174. Obviously, he
had not been robbed.
*“‘Harames lingered in a coma and died the
next day of internal hemorrahge and peri-
_tonitis. '

~The autopsy surgeon, Dr. V. A. Salva-
dorini, reported his findings: the bullet en-

| tered the victim’s body on the right: side be-
| tween the fifth and sixth ribs, passed through
| the chest and abdomen and came out between
‘| the eleventh” and twelfth ribs.. This\ was
| later to be the point that meant the differ-

ence between life. imprisonment and the
lethal gas chamber for a murderer. i
‘After the grocer’s, death, Chief Artel J.

-

ee

oe

Lamoureux of the San Leandro police con-
ferred with Lieutenant Andrew N. Poulsen
and Patrolman Whitney O. Rosaaen.

“This is ‘a murder case now,” he said.
“Tm turning it over. to you: Go to work on
it.

“We've never had an unsolved murder in
San Leandro yet,” remarked Poulsen, a vet-
eran of 31 years’ police work.

Rosaaen, a former Army captain, laughed
grimly. “Yes, Andy, but we haven’t got
anything to go on here. Just a slug and a
shell.”

“We've got: more than that,” said Poul-
sen. We know .the motive was robbery.”

“How do we know?” argued Rosaaen.
“His dough wasn’t touched. Harames may
not have’ told the truth.”

“No. Harames didn’t have an enemy in
town. It was a holdup attempt. Something
went wrong and the robber shot him.”

After ballistics experts had examined the
bullet that killed Harames, Poulsen initiated
a wide search for the murder weapon. Char-
acteristics of the bullet’s rifling, and of the
breech marks and firing pin indentation on
the casing, indicated any of 19 makes of
poor ages pistol could have discharged the
shell.

Poulsen’s “guns wanted” teletypes quickly
brought results. Every time a eun of the
types listed was seized in a crime in North-
ern California, the weapon was forwarded te
San Leandro. Dozens of automatics were
taken to John Davis and Patrick Fuller in
the Oakland police department crime labora-
tory. Each time a test shot was fired -and

_ the slug studied beside the murder bullet

under the comparison microscope. Each
time—failure. Burglary and robbery sus-
pects by the dozen were interrogated by the
two officers, with no success.

In November they turned up what looked
like an important tip. Underworld sources
reported a young ex-convict named Richard
Griffin had pulled a series of holdups around
Hayward, a community adjoining San Lean-
dro on the south. Informants said he had
dyed his hair recently and.grown a mous-

-tache. He used an automatic in his jobs.

Griffin was tracked to an East Oakland
rooming house. A cordon of police was put
around the place, and he was arrested.

He proved to be_one Griffin Dillard, an
escapee from the Chino, Cal., prison road
camp, wanted in San Francisco as_ the
“whisky and soda bandit.” Tavern stickups
were his specialty; his signature was an
order for that particular drink.

The state was glad to have Griffin’ Dillard
again, but he was 6f no interest to the weary
San Leandro officers. The man was in
Chino when Harames was killed.

‘Poulsen was beginning to think San Lean-
dro’s unblemished record on murder cases
would fall. Then, at last, a break came.

The Blonde

Chief George Forth of the Hayward po-
lice department called Chief Lamoureux in
the forenoon of December 20.

“T think I’ve got something,” he said.
“There's a Hayward boy, fellow named
Forrest Wright, 22, out in the Santa Rita
prison farm. He’s in for petty theft. He
gave me a good piece of information.”

“About Harames ?” ..

“Yes, I’ve done favors for Wright. He
phoned this’ morning and told me to see his
girl friend. Says she knows something about
the case. Come on out and we'll pick her up
together.” ,

The chiefs located the girl with difficulty.
She was a 17-year-old ward of the juvenile
court named ‘Gwen Farmer, a blonde, over-
painted, hard-talking unwed mother. a

Her blue eyes darkened with. suspicion at
their questions. _ She denied knowing any-

thing aboi
sion was
sweethear!
When
girl’s den:
the farm
There, Y
reticence.
“Honey
der,” he <
don’t wat
_ Gwen’s
ing befor
ready for
this?” sh:
the man
“You a
reux.
“Me al
“Sexto:
him, Art
jail in ¢
charge.
Wright ?’
. Wright
“Wrig!
explained
at the tin
give us t
The g:
working
butcher,
tember I
had_ his
dressed |
On the
money tc
“Eddie
mond w!
to him,”
there to
me to m
The mai
“Whe:
easier w
said he k
Gwen
market
the groc:
“Then
house a:
drivewa)
pistol ou
Lamoi

gun was

e The g
this pist:
he woul
clip int
drivewa)
“A m
came ri
shoot hi
truck.
enough
Sexto
ing her
that’s al

Lamour:
were al
sure th:
Sexton :
. “Nob
didn’t
* Gwen
detentio
began
story.
Haro
learned
lum hac
His rec
State F


Silva. was living in East Oakland now.
Poulsen, Rosaaen and Chief Lamoureux ar-
rested him outside his home as he drove
up in a new Mercury convertible.

Silva was a slight, olive-skinned Portu-

guese boy, inclined to flashy dress. He -

didn’t ask any questions on the ride to the
station, but sat silent and pale. He planned
to be a tough guy, too, but he wasn’t right
for the part.

The officers began by asking him, one by °

one, if he knew Sexton, Gwen
Harames or Phillis.

Each time the answer was no.

“Suppose I tell you the story, then,” said
Poulsen. “Stop me if I’m wrong.” Slowly,
unemotionally, he retold Gwen’s account.

As he described the murder scene itself,
Chief Lamoureux drew a large photograph
from his desk and held it before the boy. It
was a police picture of the body of Harry
Harames, lying-stark on the porcelain table
one morgue, the bullet wound plain in his
side.

Silva blanched and threw his arms over
his eyes in a gesture of revulsion.

"Wish It Was Me"

.“I wish it was me instead of him,” he
cried.

Then he readily confessed his part in the
crime. His story checked in almost every
detail with Gwen’s.

Silva said he had helped Sexton at the
meat market on September 1 and went along
that night for the ride. They picked up

Farmer,

Gwen at a Hayward restaurant about 8 p.m...

Sexton proposed the holdup after Gwen
came out from.her date with the counter-
man in Richmond, he said.

Sexton outlined what apparently was a
long-planned approach for the robbery. while
the three of them parked across from Ha-
rames’ market. Silva continued, “I, didn’t
want to do it, but Eddie said it was a cinch.
I went along to show I wasn’t scared. e

“The plan was for Eddie to open. the car
door on the right side—he’s left-handed, you
know—and put the gun:on him till he got
out. I was to knock him out then.”

Silva said they waited until the old man
got out to open the gate to his driveway.
Then he and Sexton got out, leaving Gwen
with instructions to start the car when they
returned.

“Eddie put shells in his gun. Gwen and I
begged him not to, but he said not to worry,
we'd just beat ‘the old guy up,

Fn a ae

y

“Harames had just gotten back into his
truck and Eddie opened the right side door.
I at beltind the truck when I heard the
shot.”

Both fled in panic. Gwen. had the motor
started and the door open when they ‘reached
their car. j

“Eddie said he had to shoot because the
old: guy -started the car,” Silva continued.
“He said it didn’t matter because he was an
old man, old énough to die.

“T asked if he left any fingerprints and he
said no, he opened the door with the heel of
his hand.” —* aay

Silva said Sexton left him at his home
with a warning. “Keep your mouth shut
about this. Just remember, I killed one
man, and I can kill another just as easily

.and.think nothing of it.” Pa

Silva’s confession failed to shake Sexton,
but on December 22 Poulsen signed a mur-
der complaint against the pair. Their pre-
liminary hearing and pleading was delayed
by Sexton’s trial on the assault and robbery
charge.

Although he was positively identified by
the victim as the man who bludgeoned him
with a tire iron, the Hayward youth was
acquitted. This bolstered Sexton’s confi-
dence in his, ability to beat any rap. He
ais alpen at his-preliminary hearing on the
murder charge.

He grinned as Gwen recited her story on
the witness stand. He smiled arrogantly
when Police Judge C. O. Heffernan ordered
him and Silva to stand trial in Alameda
sanenky superior court: for first degree mur-
er. .

Poulsen conferred next day with Assist-
ant District Attorney Folger Emerson and
Deputy District Attorney John S. Cooper,
who were to prosecute.

“You've done a fine job, Lieutenant,” said

Emerson, “Are you willing to keep plug-
ging ?” 5
“Certainly. What do you need now?”

’ “Corroborative evidence and _ witnesses.
Under California law, no man may be con-
victed of a crime on the testimony of ac-
complices. And Silva and Gwen are cer-
tainly accomplices within the meaning of the
statute.”

“Sexton goes free unless we produce cor-
roboration ?”

“Exactly.”

Poulsen and Rosdaen hit the pavement
again in search of new evidence and addi-
tional witnesses. It proved a grueling task.

They hit pay dirt a couple of weeks later.

tyte4 tf

San Leandro police searched driveway of Greek merchant's home for clues.

Although the murder weapon was gone, its
traces remained.

Silva told them Sexton had taken’ practice
shots at a fence post near his Hayward home
a few days before the murder. The officers
found the post, a'four-by-five-inch redwood,
peppered with bullet holes. Poulsen and
Rosaaen sawed off the post.

Then, estimating’ the position where Sex-
ton had stood to shoot, they poked through
the mud on their hands and knees and came
up_ with a .32 Winchester cartridge case.

Oakland Criminologists Davis and Fuller
split the B yredigune obtained two .32 slugs.

hey fitted one under the comparison micro-
scope beside the death bullet and called
Poulsen. '

“There’s only one bullet hete,” exclaimed
Poulsen. j

Davis laughed. ‘No, there are two, but
identical. That’s the way you tell. You
superimpose one on the other under the scopa
Those bullets were fired by the same gun.”
Tests also showed that the shell casings

-found in Harames’ windshield moulding and

at the fence post were twins.

Damning as this. evidence was, it was
minor beside the mountain of corroborative
detail the two officers pried from Sexton’s
friends in Hayward.

Sexton and Silva went to trial in Oak-
land on March 27 before a jury of four men
and eight women in the court of Superior
Judge Edward J. Tyrrell:

From the first, Sexton’s attorney, B. F.
Marlowe, hammered away at the jury on
the meaning of the state law on corrobora-
tive evidence. The defense was confident
that the People’s case was built on accom-
plices’ testimony.

At first, the. defense appeared to be cor-

rect. Gwen took the stand as the first

prosecution witness. Silva’s conféssion was
introduced as evidence.

Then, in the third day of the trial, Prose-
cutors Emerson and Cooper wheeled up the
heavy artillery and blasted Sexton’s air of
studied insouciance.

To the stand came Gwen’s boy friend and
Sexton’s pal, Forrest Wright. His testi-
mony was brief but damaging. Three weeks
before the holdup-murder, Sexton asked him
to go along with him on the job. . Declared
Wright:

“Sexton propositioned me on a_ holdup
deal. "He said he knew a rich Greek. ‘It'll
take a little rough stuff,’ he told me, ‘but it
would be worth it. I think he’s got money
in the house.’” : ;

Sexton’s face :was white and bloodless afid

_, his Adam’s apple was working furiously as

Wright left the stand. The state’s next
unpleasant surprise was another
crony, a San Jose State College student living
in Hayward.

The Missing Gun

This youth testified that he had thrown
the murder weapon into San Francisco Bay
for Sexton.

He explained that Sexton talked freely to
him of the crime, and that one day three
weeks later he rode to San Francisco with
Sexton.

“Driving through Oakland, he told me he
had the gun with him and was worried about
it in-case he were picked up for speeding or

“something,” the student said.

“We went onto the Bay Bridge, and he
reached down and pulled this gun out of his
boot., He said, ‘Throw it over but be sure
you clear the girders.’ I did, and he asked,
‘Did it clear? I told him, ‘Naturally.’ ” _

Alice Compton, a 17-year-old former girl
of Silva’s, was next. ‘
youths visited her the day after the crime,
and Sexton laughingly read newspaper ac-
counts of it. ' She quoted his remark:

euicibaaiiiictaad i init iain

Sexton °

he testified the two.

a

“The old 1
of me. The
we'd been sm

Sexton’s
pointed lowe
with his attc
for a recess ;
tion in the ;

When cou
told the jury)
facts about t
was there.”
the stand.

‘Sexton. bes
ment.

“I did it.
‘death. I’m

Then he g
and the eve
mony match
except in one

“T couldn't
like Gwen f
gallantly.
save her fro:
money was
trouble. I 1
was worth
girl.”

Also, the :
ing to his a
scaring the
didn’t intend
fast I don’t
boom, just |:

Under hi
lated that he
cab with the
running boa

.forward, he

accidentally
nied having
old enough :
Then he n
Silva. “It’s
He just we
scared.”
Sexton’s
upper lip w
tears as he |

~ near collaps

day. He th
a special gu:
Prosecutor
stroying Se
shooting the
He produ
scribing the
striking Har
truck and tr
in a downw:
accidental s!
would have |
shield or roo
“Never, ne
jury, would
path through
Prosecutor
alty for Sex
“There m:
in the case
is no mitigat
ton. He wa
when the P:
his statemen
expressed re
“T submit
and that th
shot Harry
the scene w
aSsociates no
“What kil
wanton, mor
The juror:
and decided
correct. Th
first degree 1
hours of del
It recom:
Silva.


was gone, its

1 taken practice
Hayward home
r. The officers
e-inch redwood,

Poulsen and

ion where ‘Sex-
poked through
knees and came
cartridge case.
avis and Fuller
two .32 slugs.

nparison micro- -

llet and called

”

ete,” exclaimed
-e are two, but
you tell. You
under the scopa
the same gun.”
e shell casings
d moulding and
is. .

e was, it was
of corroborative
from Sexton’s

) trial in Oak-
iry of four men
irt of Superior

attorney, B. F.
at the jury on
y on corrobora-
was confident
puilt on accom-

ared to be cor-
id as_ the first
conféssion was

the trial, Prose-
wheeled up the
Sexton’s air of

boy friend and
cht. His testi-
x. Three weeks
*xton asked him
2 job. Declared

> on a_ holdup
ch Greek. ‘It'll
told me, ‘but it
he’s got money

id bloodless afd
ing furiously as
he state’s next

inother Sexton °

ze student living

jun

he had thrown
Francisco Bay

talked freely to
one day three
Francisco with

. he told me he
is worried about
for speeding or

Bridge, and he
3 gun out of his
ver but be sure
1, and he asked,
Naturally.’ ”’
-old former girl
estified the two
after the crime,
newspaper ac-
is remark:

“The old man gave the wrong description -
of me. They’ll never catch me now.’ If
we'd been smart we'd have taken the money.”

Sexton’s face was haggard now.. His
pointed lower jaw trembled as he conferred
with his attorney... The latter hastily asked
for a recess and a meeting with the prosecu-
tion in the judge’s chamber.

When court resumed, Attorney Marlowe
told the jury, “You will now hear the true
facts about this shooting from the man who
was there.” With that he placed Sexton on
the stand.

Sexton. began with a noble-sounding state-
ment. ; ?

“I did it. I killed him. I caused his
‘death. I’m ready to pay for it.”

Then he gave his account of the shooting
and the events that preceded it. His testi-
mony matched that of the girl and Silva
except in one or two respects.

“I couldn’t stand by and see a young girl
like Gwen fall into a life of sin,” he said
gallantly. “I was willing to do anything to
save her from that. She loved Forrest. The
money was for her to get him out of his
trouble. I took a chance and lost, but it
Babe worth it to save an innocent yotng

rl. ;

Also, the shooting was accidental, accord-
ing to his account. “We were figuring on
scaring the man,” Sexton declared. “We
didn’t intend to hurt him. Things went so
fast I don’t know what happened. It was
boom, just like that.”

Under his attorney’s guidance, he re-
lated that he held his gun inside the truck
¢ab with the door open and one foot on the
running board. Harames jerked the car

.forward, he asserted, striking his arm and

accidentally discharging the pistol. He de-
nied having remarked that the grocer was
old enough to die anyway.

Then he made a belated attempt to absolve
Silva. “It’s my fault it happened, not his.
He just went along to show he wasn’t
scared.” ; :

Sexton’s remaining pretense of a stiff
upper lip was washed away in a flood of
tears as he left the stand. He was led away:
near collapse as court. adjourned for the
day. He threatened suicide that night and
a special guard was placed on his cell. .

Prosecutor Emerson coldly set about de-
stroying Sexton’s claim of ‘an accidental
shooting the next day.

He produced the pathologist’s report de-
scribing the course of the fatal bullet as
striking Harames as he sat upright in his
truck and traversing his chest and abdomen
in a downward path. He summed up: “An
accidental shot, such as Sexton described,
would have probably gone through the wind-
shield or roof of the cab.

“Never, never, ladies and gentlemen of the
jury, would it have followed a downward
path through the victim’s body.”

Prosecutor Cooper asked the death pen-
alty for Sexton in his closing argument.

“There may be mitigating circumstances
in the case of Don Silva, but certainly there”
is no mitigation in the case of Harold Sex-
ton. He waited until all else failed. Then
when the People’s case was in he changed
his statement and admitted the offense and
expressed remorse.

“T submit that six months was too late,
and that there wasn’t any remorse. He
shot Harry Harames in cold blood. He left
the scene without assistance. He told his
associates not to talk about it.

“What killing can be more ruthless, more
wanton, more cold blooded than that?”

The jurors asked themselves this question~
and decided the prosecution was entirely
correct. The jury found both men guilty of
first degree murder on April 3 after over’ six
hours of deliberation.
te recommended life imprisonment for

ilva.

- clenched white. and tears started from his

_ appeal which California law provides in

It made no recommendation for Sexton,
making death in the lethal gas chamber man-
datory. es

Judge Tyrrell denied a motion for a new
trial on April 11 and pronounced’ sentence
immediately ‘thereafter.

Sexton had recovered some of his com-
posure by this time, but his knuckles were

eyes when the court ordered his execution.

Silva fought savagely with his guards as-
he left the courtroom and had to. be car-°
ried into the elevator. His mother walked
anxiously behind, urging, “Be a good boy,
be quiet now.” °

Both were taken to San Quentin peniten-
tiary on the north ‘end. of San Francisco.
Bay on April 12. :

Sexton is in the death row at this writ-
ing. His hope is fixed on the automatic.

cases where the death sentence is returned.

Eprtor’s Notre: To spare embarrassment
to innocent persons, the names,..Gwen
Farmer .and Alice Compton, minors;
Nick Anander, used in this story are ficti-
tious. ie ‘

A Killer Is Loose
Among Us!

(Continued from page 21)

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Ferne Fisher..........+++ee0+0+..vietim
George C.1L.B. superintendent
George Monger...............sergeant .
David Richardson..............sergeant
The McNab.................@ Scotsman
Frederick Ducharme........... fisherman

want won’t think and act like an ordinary
person.” :

These detectives, unknown along the water-
front, infiltrated the district, hung around
waterfront” dives, watching, watching, watch-

ing...

“They’re playing their parts so well I don’t
think they’ve raised any. suspicion,” Monger
told the superintendent.

A chill rain fell in Vancouver the night of
December 5. Constables Jack Henney and +
Don Adams, two members of the special squad,
cruised the False Creek area in a battered
jalopy, the hood of which concealed a souped-
up motor.

As they rambled along the center of the
1900 block in Cornwall Street, Henney nudged
Adams.

“Look at that bloke!” he whispered.

A man ran across the street ahead of them.
His legs were naked beneath his rain slicker.

“He’s lost his pants!” yelped Adams... -

Henney skidded the car across the street
as the man hesitated in front of the Vancouver
Coca Cola plant.

“Hold up there!” Adams commanded.

The man darted away into a vacant lot.
The constables leaped out and followed.

“Stop or we'll shoot!” Adams warned. .

- The man ran faster. All the constables could
see was a pair of twinkling white legs. The
two fired their service revolvers into the air.

“Let’s split arid pocket him,” Henney, sug-
gested. : * skews

He swung one direction up a dirt bank
toward which the stranger was fleeing. Adams
veered the other way. The fugitive saw Hen-
ney pounding along the bank above him and
swung sharply, running into Adams who threw
the squirming figure into the mud.

Henney came up gasping and turned his

flash beam on the man Adams straddled. They

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SE SOI LIU 2 OOPS

think I know now why that Lincoln
hasn’t been spotted,” he remarked to
Podesta, “I’m going to Sonora and you
can reach me there at police headquar-
ters if necessary.”

In Sonora the officer went first to the
paint shop for he remembered how talka-
tive the killer was reported to be and
his experience told him that such men
often unwittingly make disclosures con-
cerning their personal affairs. And in case
this had occurred here, he might be able
to benefit from the information,

SURE enough, when he contacted the
owner of the place a suspicion which
had formed in his mind was confirmed.
The killer had had the blue car painted jet
black, saying that his wife did not like
the blue color. He had given the paint
man a check for $100 and received back
$25 in change.

Lucot examined the forged instrument
and saw that it had been drawn on the
private account of Harold Lage. The
cunning criminal had been too wary to
offer a check with the dealer’s name
printed on it and thus invite suspicion.

“Did you notice the license plates on
the Lincoln when you were painting it?”
he asked. “They were not dealer’s tags?”

“I didn’t pay much attention to them
because there was no reason for me to
do so. But I do know that they were not
dealer’s tags or I would have noticed
that at once when I removed them to
paint the car,” was the reply.

The sheriff left the place after hearing
the painter describe the man who had
cheated him, This description was a per-
fect match for the one Podesta had men-
tioned. Lucot determined to issue another
warning concerning the now black Lin-
coln.

“Now who would have thought he
would have a brand new car painted?”
he mused, “Or that he would og | onto
the Lincoln this long? I.have a feeling
that he is in this town staying under cover
until things cool off for awhile.”

He headed for police headquarters
where the chief quickly assigned two de-
tectives to help him in a check of hotels
and garages, They started with the hotel

The wily slayer, right, could not
shake officers like Deputy Julius
Podesta, far right, wearing hat.

garages and less than an hour later they
found the Lincoln where it had been
parked in the garage of a leading hos-
telry.

But when they hastily visited the hotel
office they learned to their chagrin that
the slippery killer had left two days be-
fore without checking out. The three
officers returned to the garage and ex-
amined the stolen Lincoln, Then they
sent for the police identification man.

But the expert shook his head dubi-
ously, “Been wiped clean,” he declared
after a brief test. “But he may have
missed some.” Patiently, the man went
over the big machine inch by inch and
at last he grunted with satisfaction when
he found a fairly clear set of prints far
down on the steering column, “I don’t
know why he put his hands down there,
but he did,” he muttered. “If he has a
record, we have got him.”

Lucot was delighted with this good
fortune and he examined the license
plates on the machine. He wrote the
numbers in his: notebook and at police
headquarters while the fingerprint man
began a search of his records for the
prints he had found, the sheriff called the
state bureau at Sacramento and. re-
quested that an immediate check be made
of the records there for the license
numbers,

He looked up as the identification man
entered, “Here you are,” the expert said
and handed Lucot a photograph and
a fingerprint card.

On it was the information, Willard C.
Shannon, alias Willard C. Meade, C. W.
Fairchild, C. Webster, C. J. Ebert, Will
H. Melvin, Albert Manx and Roy Young.
Record: One term in San Quentin and
two terms in Folsom prison, all for
forgery. Addicted to narcotics,

The officer whistled, “And now he has
added murder and grand larceny to the
list,” he said. He placed a finger on the
sentence which stated that the fugitive
was a user of narcotics, “That probably
explains all the dramatic touches to this
case,” he said, “His imagination. is work-
ing overtime while he is hopped up.”

Nearly an hour passed before the iden- -

tification bureau called, They had checked
the license numbers at the license bureau

Sheriff George Lucot, circle, guessed the meaning of a
dummy package planted at the bank, left above, and
found a clue at this garage and hotel,

and told the sheriff that the numbers had

been assigned to’ one John W. Black.
They added an address in Sonora which
was only a few blocks from police head-
quarters. “Black may be a friend of
Shannon’s, or that may be just another
alias,” remarked Lucot as he rose.

“Mr, Black. left town yesterday,” the
landlady explained, “He said he was going
to Denver.”

The officers went over the room that
had been occupied by the killer but they
found nothing which would help them. As
they were leaving, Lucot had an idea and
turned to the woman. “Did you ever
notice Mr, Black’s mail?” he asked.
“Such as where the people lived who
wrote to him, or their names?”

The landlady smiled. “Yes, he had a
girl friend living in Salt Lake City who
writes to him often. In fact a letter came
for him today from her. I’ll get it.”

A moment later she handed the sheriff
a letter which had been addressed in a
feminine hand to Black, The officer
opened the envelope and hastily read the
message. He saw at once that the writer
was apparently the killer’s sweetheart
and one sentence struck him as being
most important,

“I shall be looking. forward until the
twenty-ninth,” he read aloud to the two
detectives, “and I will certainly be glad
when you have concluded your business
out there and can be with me again.”

There was a great deal more but that
was enough to send the three men run-
ning to their automobile. At headquar-
ters, Lucot telephoned to Salt Lake City
police and was assured that if the mur-
derer showed himself there, he would be
arrested and held,

Lycor returned to Jackson in high
spirits. He was confident that Shan-
non would head for his sweetheart’s home
and felt that it was only a matter of time
until the cunning murderer would walk
into the trap. But nevertheless, he had
dozens of wanted circulars printed bear-
ing the picture and record of Shannon
and headed by an offer of a $500 reward
for the man’s arrest.

His confidence was rewarded'on Feb. 4.
A man answering the description of the
fugitive was seen entering the Salt Lake
City building where the blond girl friend
of Shannon had an apartment.

Though he looked cautiously about, he
did not notice that he was being quietly
observed. After a short time, two figures
moved stealthily up the stairs. They
paused at the door through which came
sounds of gay conversation and laughter.

Then a detective and a patrolman
crashed into the blonde’s apartment and
trapped the surprised gunman,

Shannon did not fight extradition and
was promptly returned to Jackson by
Sheriff Lucot and Podesta. There, though
he talked freely, he refused to sign a
written confession, But he admitted
planting the false clues, including the
dummy package at the bank, At last he

' admitted the murder,

“T always wanted a big car,” he said.
“T wanted my girl friend to think I was
a big shot. I planted that package to make
Lage think I had money, too, But after
I got the car I guess I acted like a fool.”

On Mar, 28, 1927, Shannon was tried
and found guilty of first degree murder.
Superior Judge C. P:; Vicini sentenced
him to hang.

On May 4, 1928, Shannon climbed to the
scaffold in the prison yard at Folsom pen-
itentiary and at 10 a, m., dropped to the
end of the rope to die in 12 minutes,

and refused to t

When question
had known anyo1
Robert Graham tl
never heard of hi
young Jordan hz
name.

One thing wa:
Jordan had not
burst of prosperit
his family and w:
for them and bu
If he had been i:
and had received
would not have b:
profits.

But all along tl
failed to fad evid:
background that 1
with anything
continued to indi
he—or at least }
nected with the ¢

His employer
on the job at the t
had air-tight <
Wheeler. Also, n
ing forefinger.

But John Robe
left hand. Pitcoc
was a steel work
the river bank. }
on Feb. 4 and qu
bery and released
—and because th
panion were not |
cation of him as
gun on them dur
did not know whe
lame or not for |
car while his aid
cash. For, in a
hand, one of G:
inches shorter th:

Pitcock heard t
who had questior

‘the second time.

“If any of the
they kept mighty
told. “And so fa
admit, the Jordz
either.”

The finding of thi
tomatic pistol on
houseboat of the br
faced killer, right,
the final link in
chain of evidence w
connected him

the puzzling mu


ld not escape
dowed doom.

[<G DETECTIVE

unpinned the paper and read _ the
scrawled, penciled lines:
This boy lives at 2326 Telegraph
avenue, Oakland.

Danielson frowned.

“Well, what do you know about that,
young fellow,” he said. “It’s pretty near
your bed time. We'd better go-home,
huh ?”

There was no answer from the boy, so
Danielson took. his hand gently and
started the brief walk to the address on
the card. Thus, in seemingly innocuous
fashion, occurred the first extraordinary
episode in a bloody horror that was soon
to send shudders over the entire, far-
flung San Francisco bay region.

ADVENTURES

iy BSTIER ba
pe AAS sh o's eunlie RIS h etecat

Summoned to the Shaver home by reports of tragedy, officers made
a startling discovery in the cubbyhole indicated by the arrow.

er mystic globe and cards of 7 fortune, Lillian Shaver,
huddered. There was- blood on the crystal and before
sinister Ace of De ae harbinger of Death!

er to the x 7

o

Danielson, still guiding the lad, had no
difficulty in finding the house, a plain
two-story building not far from the busi-
ness district. He rang the bell and a man
came to the door.

“T found this little fellow wandering
alone in the park,” Danielson explained.
“He had a tag pinned to him with this
address.”

“Oh, yes,” the man replied, “that’s the
little Shaver boy. He lives here, but I’m
sure there isn’t anyone home in the apart-
ment now. But I'll take care of him
until his mother gets back. I’m the
landlord,” he explained.

Danielson nodded. “Okay, thanks,” he
said and went hack to his beat.

Bea hal De 2s aay

events that aes

The following morning Sherman
Crash, assistant city editor of the Oak-
land Tribune, listened with amusement
as the paper’s police reporter—reading
over the telephone from the night reports
—described Officer Danielson’s en-
counter with the little boy.

“Say,” Crash said with interest, “that
sounds like a good human _ interest
yarn. I'll send a couple of the boys out
there.”

Hanging up the receiver, Crash sum-
moned Ed Soderberg, a reporter, and
“Doc” Rogers, veteran photographer.
He jotted down the Telegraph avenue
address and told the pair to get pictures
of the Shaver youngster and enough facts
for a story.

“By the way,” Crash added, “you
might ask the kid’s mother why she sends
him around with a tag pinned to his shirt.
Something fishy about that...”

House Of Mystery

i) wn minutes later Rogers and Soder-
berg rang the doorbell at the Shaver
home.

A pretty little girl, about 11 years
old, answered and identified herself as
Frances Shaver, sister of the little wan-
derer of the park. She invited the news-
papermen inside the house and brought
her tiny brother, Louis, into the living
room to have his picture snapped. <A
third youngster, Richard Shaver, 6,
watched the proceedings with wide
eyes.

Rogers glanced around the apartment
in puzzled manner.

“Say,” he asked,
mother ?”

The girl shook her head.

“T don’t know, mister.
come home last night.”

Soderberg and Rogers glanced at each
other significantly. Then, after a whis-
pered conference, they decided to call

“where’s your

She didn’t

15


. ee : \VeamnA- << wehd ck a
SHAVER, Louis R., white, hanged San Quentin (Alameda) Jan ary 15, 1937

In this mystic globe Lillian Shaver
read the fate of others.

ARK shadows danced on the faded
D walls of the room, danced gro-

tesquely in the half light, mingled
with the star-dust gleam of the mystic
crystal on the table top.

Madame Lillian Shaver sat in a plush
chair, thin shoulders bowed, light brown
hair straggling over her face. Her eyes
were pin-point pools of violet, darting
with whip-lash speed under hollow lids.

She was alone, shuffling the cards.

Outside the night wind from San Fran-
cisco bay rode over the rooftops, slapping
the window panes until they shook and
whined. Madame Shaver shuddered,
dealing out the cards of fortune. She
brushed her hair back in a gesture of
annoyance and glanced down at the gay
pattern of kings and queens.

“It’s funny how people fall for this
stuff,” she mumbled. “Pieces of paste-
board, fortune telling... humph !”

Her fingers moved again with studied
grace, another card dropped from the
pack. Suddenly her eyes narrowed.
Stark fear caught up her heart and held
it in cold hands. She found herself star-
Ing... SRRFINGs

The Ace of Spades... the death card!

Madame Shaver cursed her parching
throat, fought to calm a driving pulse that

shot, needle-like, toward the base of her .

brain. It meant nothing, she reasoned
wildly, nothing . . . fortune telling, just
a racket ... just another card, this

ominous black ace.

She reached down, swept up the pack
fiercely, blotted the card from view.
Then, trembling, she staggered into
another room and flung herself sobbing
across a bed.

The night wind howled again, but

ae 7

Omen of evil, this card
gave the seeress her first
hint of impending tragedy
and horror.

pretty Madame Shaver, who had boasted
of “second sight’ down through the
years, could not see the Reaper’s silhou-
ette, nor hear the silent sweep of his
scythe as he rapped, violently, on the
brown front door of the house. .. .

Small Boy Lost ee:
POLICE OFFICER N. C. DANIEL- _
SON, pacing through the little park
at Seventh and Jackson streets in O/ak-
land, California, on the night of Septem- emptied
ber 11, 1934, pulled up his coat collar and comaied
turned his face away from the cool wind. " ae
A few stragglers hurried homeward This y
through the dusk of the wooded square; Fai 9
a few tattered wanderers gazed askance Daniels
at the gleam of Officer Danielson’s badge Well, \
and slunk away. Suddenly, as he paced young fellc
the gravel paths, the policeman saw a year bed :
small boy, about four years old, standing huh?
alone in apparent bewilderment, shiver- There w:
ing as the cold air whistled through his Danielson
clothing. started the
“Hm... the lad must be lost,’ Daniel- the card.
son murmured. fashion, oc
As he came closer, the officer noticed episode in
a white card, pinned to the boy’s shirt. Lillian Shaver could not escape to send sh
The youngster said nothing as Danielson the cards’ foreshadowed doom. flung San |
STARTLING DETECTIVE | ADVENTI


‘On Galois
At Quentin’

Louis R. Shaver, 5i-yeatiéid Ohi
land ‘wife: killer, was een eiti on
Quentin: Prison * thisittiorning:

Declining to make’ a last-minute
| statement and Jeaving no thessage
for” his’: three children, Shaver
a! marched to the gallows at 10 a.m.
| The trap was-sprung at 10:0114 and
| he was pronounced déad at'10.17.

Sixteen ‘witnesses; including: 12

WPA. workers engaged.in a sur-

vey of prison conditions, saw the.

hanging.” One fainted. and age
carried out. by prison, ‘guards, >

Shaver was. nervous last ratght
and slept’ fitfully;” prison’. officials
Said. He refused breakfast... . this
morning, but drank a-cup of black

pee Coffee. But he appeared calm as he;
ee walked from his celtita+t
ia LOWS, accompanied by: thé: prison
chaplain, Father George a Nogear tee Me
a NO RELATIVES ‘LEFT :
BY CONDEMNED MAN

Prison officials - said. Shaver | Jeft

Weg children and! ‘probably would be |.
} buried in. the: prison ‘cemetery The |:
children, since hea -mothe

f Department of Charities,
A reprievewwas sought by”

~ lic Defender. ‘Wilfard® Shea and. is

om told Governors Franks mm

| yesteugiay they; ha ‘discovered: “new
ede that. Shaver killed his wife

1 in a jMlous rage. ‘It was denied: |

| Shaver. who killed his wife with a

a butcher knife and. nailed her’ body
up*in a closet at their Telegraph

murder by an Oakland jury of sods
men and two wamen:

During his: trial at ibe court of
Judge’ Frank M, Ogden, ‘Shaver ace
cused his: ;wife’ of associating. with
other men, He'claimed his wife had’

m revealed to him that he was not the
father of their ‘two youngest’ chil- |
dren and said she had. attempted | to
have him imprisoned 80 shé could

m carry oii ar affair ‘with another man.
BODY FOUND BY 9/50)
TRIBUNE- REPORTER_ ire

ee 6 The crime was disclosed sensa-
|. tionally by a reporter and photog-
| rapher of The Tribune; : The men:

i

| finding of the Shavers’ four-y

old’ son, . Lows; wanderifi

West Oakland park: with

pinned’ to his ‘blowse. .4.

The note read: F
ee boy's mother-is

2326 Telegraph Avenue. Ms
A. pone n had discovered the
ty a and reé mae him to that ‘ad-

dre ing‘h me pends |

'
f

Netra ‘Louis.vo
aw Ty stab’Mamma.

mno known | relatives ‘besides, his |,

Avenue apartment on September 12, '
1934, was convicted of. first-degree |-

were assigned’ to. investigate ‘the |

1-15-1937.

From Oakland TRIBUNE

1 7 a gpa basi

A bealen Bitty athe crap LO, 205th FEY
been under’ ‘he care of the Oaklane :
Poy een WicCharitics:

A_ reprieve :was’ sought by Pub-/|
He Defender (Willard Shea and his
deputy, Kenneth Foresman, whoa!
told’: Governor! Frank |B, Merriam

evisee they had dis¢overed news:

evidedwie that Shatér killed his wife.
in'a jMlous rage. It was denied...
Shaver, who killed his wife with a |’
butcher knife and nailed her body
up in a closet at their Telegraph ‘
Avenue apartment on:September 12,
| 1934, was convicted of ‘first-degree

@ | murder by an Oakland jury of tén|

men’ and two -wamen) ©:

During his trial at the Cour: of
Judge Frank M. Ogden, Shaver acs
cused his wife of associating with
other men: He claimed his wife had |;
fevealed to him that he was not the

7 father of their two youngest chil.)

dren and said she had attempted ta’
have: him imprisoned 80 shé could’
cae*¥y on an affair with another man.

BODY FOUND BY -

a; LRIBUNE REPORTER © -

*. The crime was disclosed sensa-

a tionally by a reporter-and photog- *

‘rapher of The Tribune, The men
| were. assigned to investigate: the
} finding of the Shavers’ four-year-
* old son, Louis, wandering in a
West Oakland. park: with a’ note ©
_ pinned to his blouse.’ ><
¥) The note read: ss ee
' “This boy's mother is Mrs. Lillian

mam Shaver, 2326 Telegraph “Avenue,”

A policeman ’ had. discovered: the
boy and returned him. to that’ad-
dtess, turning him over, to the land-.

ee lady.

The hewspaper men found Lotiis!
rat home with two’ other: children— |
Richard, 6; and Frances, 11; While |
the newspaper men were question- |
fing the children Louis volunteered:
) “I saw Papa stab Mamma with |
ta butcher knife.”
He also ‘said he had; secn “Papa ijk
hrow a chair at Mamma.” Exami-

Mienation of the chair revealed blood-.
m stains. Similar stains were found on
oa), the mattress:of a bed.’ Police were

} called, and the body of the mother |
was found in a closet that had been ;

fa | nailed shut.

i MRS. SHAVER WAS eee |
1 FORTUNE TELLER Bd :
Further investigation revealed that
Mrs. Shayer had been working as a
fortune teller’ and that many. of her
«apie were men. A month earlier

mai she had had her husband arrested

on a battery charge. She claimed he
had tried to stab her. The murder
occurred while “that charge was
pending,. Seeking clues of the mur-
der, police found® a note in the Sige
apartment addressed to “Lillian” jams
and signed “Louis.” “It said:

“You have done me a great
wrong. You tried to, put me in
prison so you could have your
lover with you.”

Shaver was traced from city to
city and finally arrested February |

, 1936, at Seattle. He confessed the

mée and told of his flight north~ jie
ward after sending his -two eldest |
children to a moyie and leaving the |
youngest in the park with the note,

‘pinned on his clothing. He said he

fled to the Northwest and then went
to Denver, Then fear drove him to
Seattle.- He was recognized while
standing in line at a soup kitchen by.

at

fm }a man who had seen his picture in®

Wile PCUYVS THA es als


of silent men.
the big round

the morning
dand Tribune
outine checks
‘e hot enough
an Francisco,

y of a ticking

‘d this. They
he dog-eared
corny humor
20 long wait-

- back in the
tid Ed Soder-
off a knuckle,
y circle back

uw newshawk
st dog. Then

-

» something.

© one morning the big Mick rang for me here in.the room.

“ ‘Sodie,’ he said, and I could tell he was excited about
‘Sodie, scram the hell down to Guido’s speak-
easy in Alameda. Phone back as soon as you get there. And

» step on it.’”

“What happened?” The new kid from the ’Frisco News
bit eagerly.

“The big lug wanted to know,” said Soderberg solemnly,
_with a wink at the others, “if his credit was still good there
for a drink. I told him to...”

The Tribune’s phone cut him short. He answered it
mechanically, reaching for a fold of copypaper on which he
scribbled a few notes. “Okay,” he said at the end. “Yeah.
Tll go right out.” Pea

He turned back to the game without a word about the call.
He peeked at his hole card, shot a quick glance at the other
staying hands and tossed in a two-bit piece for the fifth and
last ticket. It gave him a pair of kings showing.

Soderberg raked in the pot and arose. “That’s my luck,” he
said. “Just when they start running, I’ve got to quit. ‘Go
dig up a human interest story on a cop who took a lost kid
home,’ the desk tells me. I should never have quit deliver-
ing frankfurters for old Hans Schultz. Come on, Doc, let’s
get under way.”

A sharp-eyed young man who sat on a bench tinkering
with a photographic flashgun picked up his black case and
followed the reporter out of the building.

They rode in the cameraman’s car, Soderberg explaining
their assignment as they rolled east through the business
district. “Go up to 2326 Telegraph Avenue,” the reporter
directed. :

The neighborhood in which Doc Rogers finally drew up
was far from prepossessing. The buildings in the block were
old frame structures on which the paint had faded to a non-
descript gray. Some were private homes, others duplexes
and a number had stores on the ground floor with apart-

A new nail had been driven into the tiny
closet (arrow) beneath the staircase. ° It
was withdrawn, and a body was discovered.

ments above. The two men scanned the street addresses.

No. 2326 was a two-story dwelling. Soderberg’s brow
wrinkled as he studied a placard in the window. “Madame
Shaver,” it advertised. “Spiritual Adviser, Psychic Medium,
Card Reader.”

“Nuts!” he exploded. “This. smells like a phony publicity
stunt for a fortune teller. Come along, Doc. Watch me blast
her cute little trick into the middle of her next seance.”

Children Alone
Soderberg marched up the steps and pushed the bell be-

side the narrow front door. It was opened by a small girl, —

no more than 11 or 12.

“I want to see Mrs. Shaver,” the reporter told her.

The child appraised him with grave, unblinking eyes.
“Mother isn’t here,” she said. “If you want a reading you'll
have to come back later.”

“Nope, honey,” he replied, grinning. “It isn’t a reading
I’m after. Not unless you'll do the job.” .

“Tl try,” the girl offered soberly; opening the door farther.
“But I’m not as good as Mama.”

Soderberg pushed inside. The hallway walls were hung
with cheap, flamboyant paper and a thin carpet barely cov-

ered the floor. A creaky staircase led to the second floor.

To the right an archway opened into a small, square room
furnished with several plain chairs, an oak. settee and a
center table on which stood a cheap replica of a crystal
gazer’s ball. Occult pictures in ten-cent store frames
dangled askew on their nails. Another arch was cut through
the wall to the left, and the aperture was closed by heavy
black drapes.

‘This, the reporter reflected, must be the madame’s holy of
holies, He could plainly see that fortune telling as Mrs.
Shaver practiced it was not a lucrative profession.

“I’m a newspaper reporter, honey,” he told the girl. “Was
it your little brother Louis who got lost last night?”

3

tt at to88 32


Pape ee |

SHAVER, Leuis, wh, asphyx CA (Alameda) January 15, 1937

In Lillian Shaver's effects was a
packet of letters—love letters in

which she was threatened with harm.
(Photo specially posed bya professional model.)

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE
January, 1945

Nickels and dimes clinked in the center of the big round

table in the press room at headquarters.:

Occasionally a phone rang, but all through the morning
the only calls were from the desks of the Oakland Tribune
and Post-Enquirer, asking their reporters for routine checks
on trivial items. There was nothing on the fire hot enough
to excite the city editors of the big dailies in San Francisco,

Ts: GREASY cards slid around the circle of silent men.

across the bay. ;

The game went on with the deadly monotony of a ticking
clock. It was the lull before the storm...

The headquarters reporters themselves sensed this. They
joked about it as they bet, called and dealt the dog-eared
pack time after time. But underneath their corny humor
was a noticeable nervousness. It came from too long wait-
ing for something to break.

“It hasn’t been this quiet since that summer back in the
20s when the big Mick was on the city desk,” said Ed Soder-
berg of the Tribune. He spun a quarter deftly off a knuckle,
watched it twirl out across the table and slowly circle back
to the rim, catching the coin as it fell.

“T’ll never forget that summer,” the veteran newshawk
went on, “Four weeks without so much as a lost dog. Then

one morn

* Sodie.
something
easy in Al
step on it.

“What |
bit eager]

“The bi;
with a wir
for a drin)

The Tr
mechanica
scribbled ;
I'll go rig

He turn:
He peekec
staying ha
last ticket.

Soderbe
said. “Ju:
dig up ah
home,’ the
ing frankf
get under

A sharp
with a phx
followed t}

They ro
their assig
district. “
directed.

The neig
was far fro
old frame ;
descript gi
and a nun


(re

cide?”

“But that was a while ago,” I reasoned
with him. “And how do you know he
wasn’t planning murder then and trying to
throw us off the track? That's possible,
isn’t it?”

“It would be more possible if he hadn't
left his false teeth behind,” Box shot back
at me.

Together we put the whole situation be-
fore Captain Trotter. His instructions
were what I had expected.

“Hunt this man as if you were sure he
was alive,” he ordered. “We'll keep after
him—and we'll never quit—not until we
lock him up or find him dead.”

Tense weeks of excitement followed.
Tips and reports seemed to come from
everywhere. Our circulars had thrown the
entire coast into a feverish manhunt.
Shaver was reported seen in a dozen lo-
calities at once. Yet not a tip could be
overlooked.

One day it was a phone call from Mo-
desto. “Seems like we've got your man
Shaver down here,” exclaimed Chief of
Police Lee E. Smith. “A stranger in town
looks like him. He’s just reported losing
his false teeth and glasses.”

We started off for Modesto in a hurry.
Before we even got there the suspect had
been found and released.

Portland, Oregon telegraphed a hopeful

‘pr

message. They were detaining a man re-
sembling Shaver. The same day “Shaver”
was arrested in Reno, Nevada, and in Ta-
coma, Washington.

Santa Rosa threw us into a flurry of ex-
citement. “Shaver just boarded bus here
for San Francisco—trying to intercept,” the
message over the teletype came flashing
into headquarters.

Chief Bodie Wallman telephoned to San
Francisco, asking that a squad be put
around the ferries. Deputy sheriffs from
Marin County threw themselves on all sides
of the Sausalito terminal.

The bus was intercepted at San Rafael.
Deputies took off the man in question. He
established himself as an old-time resident
of Petaluma.

S IT WENT for weeks and months—excit-
ing pursuits, wild tips, and vanishing
hopes. By now the whole country had
joined in the manhunt. Reports no longer
were confined to the western coast. They
were pouring in from everywhere. Shaver
was being seen through the East and Mid-
dle West.

In Silver City, New Mexico, Sheriff
Owen Matthews rushed a posse into the
suburbs. For two days he thought he had
Shaver cornered.

Suddenly the search switched to Florida.
Sheriff E. E. Boyce of St. Augustine, be-

lieved he had a red-hot lead. His wires
still were coming thick and fast when In-
spector W. E. Watson, in Ottawa, Canada,
messaged that he had hit the trail.

Then came an unexpected phone call
from Topeka, Kansas. A subscription so-
licitor there was a “ringer” for Shaver.
Half the Topeka force went after him. And
it was just another fluke.

Savannah, Georgia, looked up a suspect.
He had hitch-hiked from California. For
two days we lived in hopes—and then Sa-
vannah turned him loose.

So it went for months, and months
stretched out to a year and more,

Shaver tips were getting fewer—scarce-
ly one a month. Interest in the case had
died, everywhere but in Oakland. And as
time slipped by we felt more and more that
Shaver must be dead—a suicide.

His children, held by the juvenile author-
ities, had received no word—no smuggled
message from their father. Relatives and
women friends had been closely watched.
We were satisfied he had not written them.

“Seems improbable,” I once said to Cap-
tain Trotter, “that if Shaver is alive, he
wouldn’t have gotten some word to some-
one to look after those kids. But we'll
keep hunting—we’re not quitting yet.”

Unexpected factors—and luck — often
play the biggest roles in detective work.
The Shaver case proved to be no excep-
tion.

Red spurts of flame spat from the quaking hand of the bandit. A woman screamed, toppled to the ground—then silence. One shot snuffed

64

out the life of Mrs. Mary Irwin, Chicago housewife.

I" WAS EARLY Fel
sient camp in S
ward J. Swanson,
reading room and
from the middle of
literature. Luck s
It was a back copy

Swanson _stretcl
wooden bench and
thrill of detective
several of them w
that bore the pict
man wanted for 1

“Louis Shaver,”
murder of his wi
nia.”

The young. itin
carefully at the f
thing about the f
his attention. Thx
and it was time to
woodpile.

Three days later
his place in the >
he held a tin pla
In the other was !

The line turned
Swanson’s eyes b
close to the front

One look—and }
cold shiver went 1

“That's him,” he
Shaver—wanted f:

Swanson used
kept his place int
as calmly as he «
glued to the man }

After dinner he
camp manager.
fied immediately.

TS MINUTES LA
Captain Trotte
phone—a long dis
attle. It was De
Dailey.

“T've got your «
right before me,”
more—tell me eve
man. We've got
Yes—I'll keep you

Seventeen mon
calloused us to s
gotten them by th
the other. But tl
this one that ma
waited impatienth

In Seattle, Dai
arri studied Shay
hard. They seri
they felt sure tl
anywhere.

Then in old clo
transient camp.
February thirteer

Swanson, by pr
ing at an appon
officers no recogn
fully for his cha:

DOWACG

S IT HAD BEE?
ment sinc
Swann refused
gency” had taken
sion. Enterprisi
however, that tw
turned over to §
had left with t
holtzer’s laboratc
The general fe
ship, dictated by
tune, was denyin
of the unraveling
“Tf it'd been t
bodyelses,’ they -

His wires
when In-
a, Canada,

\l.

phone call
ription so-
or Shaver.
r him. And

» a suspect.
yrnia. For
d then Sa-

nd months
re.

er—scarce-
ie case had
id. And as
d more that

nile author-
o smuggled
elatives and
ly watched.
ritten them.
said to Cap-
is alive, he
rd to some-
But we'll
ig yet.”
uck — often
ctive work.
e no excep-

re shot snuffed

T WAS EARLY February, 1936. In a tran-
sient camp in Seattle, Washington, Ed-
ward J. Swanson, twenty, walked into the
reading room and extracted a magazine
from the middle of a stack of well-thumbed
literature. Luck seemed to guide his hand.
It was a back copy of a detective magazine.
Swanson stretched himself out on a
wooden bench and became absorbed in the
thrill of detective stories. He had read
several of them when he turned to a page
that bore the picture and description of a
man wanted for murder.

“Louis Shaver,” it said, “wanted for the
murder of his wife, in Oakland, Califor-
nia.”

The young itinerant looked long and
carefully at the face. There was some-
thing about the features that commanded
his attention. Then he read another story
and it was time to go back to work on the
woodpile.

Three days later, at noon, Swanson took
his place in the mess-line. In one hand
he held a tin plate with knife and fork.
In the other was his metal coffee cup.

The line turned as it neared the kitchen.
Swanson’s eyes by chance fell on a man
close to the front.

One look—and he caught his breath. A
cold shiver went up his back.

“That's him,” he gasped. “The fellow—
Shaver—wanted for murder!”

Swanson used his sense that day. He
kept his place in the line. He ate as usual,
as calmly as he could, but his eyes were
glued to the man he had “spotted.”

After dinner he confided the facts to the
camp manager. Seattle police were noti-
fied immediately.

Te MINUTES LATER, in his Oakland office,
Captain Trotter was called to the tele-
phone—a long distance message from Se-
attle. It was Detective Lieutenant C. V.
Dailey.

“I’ve got your circular on Louis Shaver
right before me,” he said. “But give me
more—tell me everything you can about the
man. We've got a tip that looks red-hot.
Yes—I'll keep you in touch. Sit tight.”

Seventeen months of manhunting had
calloused us to such messages. We had
gotten them by the score; one as certain as
the other. But there was something about
this one that made us anxious. And we
waited impatiently.

In Seattle, Dailey and Detective E. Zu-
arri studied Shaver’s description long and
hard. They scrutinized his picture until
they felt sure they could recognize him
anywhere.

Then in old clothes, they went out to the
transient camp. It was early morning of
February thirteenth.

Swanson, by prearrangement, was stand-
ing at an appointed spot. He gave the
officers no recognition but he watched care-
fully for his chance.

DOWAGER’S HAIR

$ IT HAD BEEN WITH each new develop-

ment since Saturday, Lieutenant
Swann refused to discuss what “emer-
gency” had taken him running to the man-
sion. Enterprising reporters discovered,
however, that two more bundles had been
turned over to Sergeant Duckworth, who
had left with them for Chemist Shan-
holtzer’s laboratory at Charleston.

The general feeling reigned that censor-
ship, dictated by the Enslow family for-
tune, was denying the public its just view
of the unraveling of a mystery.

“Tf it'd been the ‘Jones,’ or the ‘Some-
bodyelses,’ they wouldn't be covering up,”

It came at last when no one was looking.
A quick toss of the head—a gesture—and
he indicated the man he suspected—a mid-
dic-aged fellow sitting straddled on a: log.

The detectives stepped over—quickly.
Two hands fell on the startled man’s shoul-
ders.

“Come with us, Shaver,” they said.
“We'd like to talk to you a moment.”

The man did not resist. There was a
stare of amazement on his face. His color
changed. Suddenly he looked up at the
pair and tried to speak.

“You're right,” he whispered finally.
“Y’m Shaver—you've made no mistake.”

At the station he talked for hours of
his wanderings—a nomadic life of seven-
teen months—haunted day and night by
fear of capture. And he seemed relieved
to have it over.

“ry “<new I couldn’t beat it,” he told the

officers. “I knew they’d get me. And
I’m glad to have it over. The torture of
it all—wandering from place to place—ter-
rified every time I’d see a cop—afraid ev-
ery time some one looked at me.

“Eyes—eyes everywhere—staring at me.
At least I thought so. I couldn’t sleep at
night—nightmares all the time. Any
sound—-and I thought they’d come for me.
It’s been torture. At times I thought I was
going mad. And now it’s a relief to be in
jail. Take me back to Oakland if you want
to. I won't fight it. And I'll take my
medicine, too.”

Shaver told of his wanderings back and
forth through many states, how he had
traveled thousands of miles, working here
and there, hitch-hiking from one place to
another—always in dread of the law.

“Yes, I killed her,” he finally admitted.
“But it was in self-defense. She came
after me with a butcher knife. We were
having a row. I had to kill her to save
myself. And then I was desperate. What
could I do with the body—and with the
youngsters coming back from school. I
saw that shoe closet. It seemed my only
chance.”

After nailing his wife’s body in the
closet, he said, he went to San Francisco
and took a bus for Portland, Oregon.
From there he hitch-hiked to a construc-
tion camp, bought a jumper and shirt from
a lumberjack, and threw his own clothes
in a hobo jungle.

A month later he moved to Denver,
worked there a time, and went to Pueblo,
Colorado. He wandered into Wyoming,
worked a few weeks, and made his way
slowly back to the Northwest.

Dis iem or TIMES I walked by cops and
deputy sheriffs,” he said. “When they
looked up at me I almost screamed in panic.
I'd walk off, my hands shaking, and I'd
dream of it at night.

said John Q. Public.

Mrs. Enslow’s will, naming fourteen
heirs and distributing a large fortune, was
read Saturday morning, October 24th.
Persons who look for murder motives in
wills, scanned the lengthy list of bequests
eagerly, paying scant heed to the legacies
involving personal objects and jewelry.

Mrs. Combs was left a $500 monthly
annuity and $30,000 to build a home.

Baldwin was left $300 a month for life.

Miss Bricker received $100 per month.

The other servants, Johnson and Nellie
Nunn, were ignored.

The dispositions made in the will were

“Then for months at a time I'd think I
was safe—and something would happen to
give me the jitters again.

“Once in Wyoming everything looked se-
rene. I was working in a transient camp.
It was all so peaceful I supposed none in
that neck of the woods had ever heard of
me—or of the crime I was wanted for. One

‘Sunday I sat down to read. I picked up

a magazine and opened it. My eyes fell on
a picture of myself—big as life—and it
said I was wanted for murdering my wife.
It didn’t take me long to get away.”

As soon as we heard of Shaver’s arrest
and confession, I got the necessary extra-
dition papers and started north.

Shaver greeted me amiably in Seattle
and repeated his entire story.

“One thing I’m still curious about,” I
told him when he’d finished. “How about
those teeth you left behind? When I found
+ a felt sure you had committed sui!
cide.

Shaver laughed. “Those were the old
ones,” he chuckled. “I had my new ones
with me—see.” And he pulled out his
plates to prove it.

“But I did think of suicide many times,”
he admitted.

Evidently this was true. When he was
searched immediately after capture, a razor
blade was found hidden under the inner
sole of his shoe.

He seemed anxious to plead guilty and
take his medicine. But a few days in the
Oakland jail gave him. a change of heart.
In court he entered a plea of not guilty.
The trial was set for April 21st. Inciden-
tally, it set a new record for murder trials
—begun and ended in a day.

Breve Superior Jupce Frank M. Ogden,
a jury of seven men and five women
w&s quickly sworn. The state presented
its evidence in record time.

“Call the first defense witness,” ordered
the court.

Kenneth Foreman, assistant public de-
fender, rose to his feet.

“The defense rests, your honor,” he said.
A startled look came over the crowd in the
courtroom.

The jury retired and returned a few
minutes later. Judge Ogden took a folded
paper from the foreman, glanced at it, and
read aloud:

“We, the jury, find the defendant, Louis
Shaver, guilty of murder in the first de-
gree as charged !”

Shaver listened intently, waiting for
something more—a recommendation of
leniency. But there was none.

“Shaver, stand up,” said the judge. “It
is the judgment of this court that you be
confined in the state penitentiary at San
Quentin and there be hanged by the neck
until dead—and may God have mercy on
your soul.”

The Shaver case was over.

From page 15

followed within a few hours by a quickly
effected, precisely planned arrest that elec-
trified the entire city.

At 7:45 o'clock Catucdae night, news-
papermen were summoned to the detective
bureau. Lieutenant Swann informed them
solemnly :

“Boys, we’re going to give you what
you've been waiting for. We are going to
arrest Charley Baldwin for murder.”

The reporters scrambled for telephones,
but Swann cautioned them to “hold it.”

“Nothing doing,” he warned them. “We
can’t afford to let this leak out. Just
follow us.”

65


wat

DO ALBERT Simeone (above) and
Robert Jetton look alike to you? They
did to witnesses of two murders in
dimly lighted Los Angeles taverns.

SIMEONE, Albert, white, asphyxiated San Quentin (Los

on 11-30-1915.

OAST GUARDSMAN Paul H. Mark put down his

drink, grinned—and wondered why no one else had

thought of such an idea for a floor show. It certainly had
it all over the usual nightclub routine with its master of cere-
monies, cutie-pie dancing girls and a comedian dishing out
ten-year-old corn.

Yep—here was something with a punch—a genuine kick in
it... something guaranteed to give the gals and their escorts
a thrill. He was glad he had dropped in at Charlie's Place.

Mark’s grin widened as he regarded the man who _ had
slipped into the smoke-filled, shadowy cafe and now stood, legs
braced apart, just inside the door. The fellow wore a neat
business suit and his hat was obviously a good one, although

INSIDE IETECTIVE
July, 19))5

?
io 2
¢ Ws,

Angeles@

Se ls ASE Na cad


the Asch slaying

Simeone as the —

¥ had ‘ hesitated

ked like a
nts istrict At-
ight of a method
que and convinc~

oner the attorney

iobile at Florence —

the school, and
s bar, observing

he murder scene ° -

gh the back door
utes—the length
ses declared the
ned in the bar.
ack to the school
d out his watch.
Since we started
Chat blows Sim-
‘He slipped away
. murdered and
back so quickly
thing.”

knew that he
convince a jury:
estion that Sim-
n of the murder
al date of the
ink in the chain,
went over the
g —- veports of
{ indit with
| ‘:ventually
January 26 in
isman had been
scription of the
2» as that in the
vestigation.

was the bullet
»vered. Though
ug was partially
deen fired from

» interview the
r with him, he
ind located the
request the man
soup of photo-
tinals. When he
Albert Simeone,
sd up quickly.
said. ,

rou that night?”
*. “Anyone who
identification?”
d. “There: were
ather. I think I.
7 you.”

of evidence the
Te returned to
an preparations
1

a against
ismussed. Daniel
| deputy for the
sunced the dis-
Caylor would be
is parole:

ning in question, 7

~

- Albert Simeone went on trial De-
cember 7 in Superior Judge Charles

— W. Fricke’s court. He stood beside

Charles Taylor while witnesses point-
ed him out as the slayer of Martinez
and Jack Asch. Russell Camp, on the
witness stand, gave expert testimony
on the murder bullets, taking a car-

tridge apart and explaining his bal-—

listic findings to the jury.

But the clinching argument was re-
served until the last, when the sailor
was brought to the witness stand. His
testimony established proof that the
accused man was in possession of the
murder gun several months before the
slaying of Martinez. Hearing on the
Asch case followed immediately after
that of the Martinez murder, before

(Continued from page 11)
say whether he had an accent. Both
appeared completely at ease and
seemed well supplied with money.
Their tips were generous without be-
ing suspiciously: lavish.
Agents working on the case harked

back to the 1942 arrival of saboteurs

on Long Island. The plot that time had
been crudely planned and executed.
The spies were loaded down with
equipment but provided with scanty
funds. They had, for instance, offered

_ a United States coast guardsman: $200

to “forget” that he saw them!
They had been tracked down quick-.
ly and captured. Six were excuted, the

remaining two sentenced to long pris- |

on terms.

BUT this time the situation a
peared to be different.
“These men are highly dangerous,”
the FBI chief warned ‘his agents.
“Their movements thus far show care-

ful planning. It is obvious that they.

know the country well. As long as
they are at large the danger is doubled
for every convoy that sails. Every war
plant is in danger of sabotage.”

But the spy team already had
reached Boston, a city large enough to
hide the trail successfully. The federal
agents sped along the route the men
had taken, determined that they
should ‘not escape. Secret orders
flashed between Bangor, Boston, New
York and Washington.

For obvious security reasons, all of
the methods used by the FBI in mat-
ters of this kind cannot be revealed

until after the war. But it violates no

the same set: of jurors.

hours later the verdict was. an-

-he pleaded guilty. -

~ tence is mandatory, following convic-

‘spirators through Boston and on. to

first names and last initial.

“They don’t want to buy new things

BAFFLING DETECTIVE

On Wednesday, December 6, the
case went to- the jury. Forty-eight

nounced: guilty of first degree murder,
on two counts, without recommenda-
tion for clemency. He was also’ found
guilty on one robbery charge, to which

-Under California law the death bene
tion for first degree murder. Simeone,

however, had not yet appeared for
“gaodeg as this is ware

Lo?
Vicar name of Charl CeO [(e ? bf

this story, is not actual, but ficti-
tious to protect the identity of a person
innocently involved in a murder in-
vestigation.

confidence to repeat that the soundest
kind of detective work always is based
upon questions and more questions,
blanket. interrogations of hundreds of
persons, if necessary, and a skilled
study of the answers evoked.

Properly to do this requires a stag-
gering staff of experts and unlimited
resources—both possessed by the FBI.
The swift and comprehensive work
which started at the hamlet of Han-
cock Point plotted the trail of the con-

New York City.

And gradually the descriptions of
the men. they sought grew clearer.
When agents swooped down upon a
Boston hotel, the men had gone but
they had left behind the first major
clue.

An agent looked at the hotel regis-
try ‘card. “William C. Caldwell. and
Edward Green,” he read. “T’ll take this
along.”

In an inner office of the FBI in
Washington, officials studied the re-
port immediately flashed there. They
were keenly aware of a weakness pe-
culiar to most criminals when choosing
an alias—despite the dangers in-
volved, they frequently retain their

One official pointed out that trait
and its possibility in the case at hand.
“Sometimes they keep the first name
and last initial because luggage and
clothes: are monogrammed,” he said.

and a monogram differing from their
assumed names would draw suspicion.
-“Others realize that they may for-

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BAFFLING DETECTIVE

was the month the: juke box bandit
had started his deadly career. ws

Simeone’s statements now became.

confused. He told different stories,
finally saying he found the gun
wrapped up in a newspaper. But he
clung to the statement that he had

‘come into possession of the weapon in
April. 3

Hurst and his aides, now convinced
they had the right man, sought evi-
dence from another quarter. They
called Mrs. Martinez and. the two

‘waitresses to headquarters, placed °
Simeone and Charles Taylor side by .

side, then asked the witnesses to iden-
tify the murderer of Martinez. Their
identification of Simeone was instan-
taneous. ~
Even the officers were struck by the
exact likeness of the two men. They
were almost the same height and
‘weight. Their hair and eyes were the
same color, and each man had a deep

cleft in the chin. But Taylor’s face

was thinner and he wore his hair
smoothed down while Simeone’s hair
was bushy. 2

Mrs. ‘Martinez was positive that

Simeone was the killer after seeing

him next to Taylor. She pointed out
that Simeone’s lips were thicker and
told police this aided her identification,

Simeone also had a deep-scar on his
neck from a mastoid operation. But
the murderer had always worn his
collar turned up, or else-had worn a
high necked sweater, so the scar did
not show. oe

Hurst checked police files and found
that Simeone had a long record. He
had served nine years in Folsom Peni-
tentiary for robbery and attempted

- robbery in Long Beach. He had been

released on Sept. 7,:1943, only a few

months ‘before the series of robbery-

murders had begun in Los Angeles.
The ballistic department followed

up Hurst and ‘Cochran’s work by

checking thoroughly on Simeone’s
gun. Not only was it identified as the

_gun which killed Martinez but the

murder bullet taken from the body of
Jack Asch was also identified as hav-
ing been fired from the same weapon.
No charges were filed against
Simeone in the Wehrman case, as the
bullet from Wehrman’s body was too
badly damaged to be ‘checked against
Simeone’s gun, and there were no
identifying witnesses.
Simeone was charged with the slay-
ing of Asch and Martinez and was also
identified by several witnesses as hav-
ing participated in several robberies.
In the Asch murder, Simeone
claimed on the night of the shooting

_he had visited a schoolroom where his

girl friend was appearing in a pro-
gram. Witnesses there corroborated
his story, saying he had not left the
building, except for “about ten min-

killer, whereas they had‘ hesitated

3 ing. z

utes” late in the evening in questi nh,
_ But witnesses in the Asch slaying™
readily identified Simeone as the™

over naming Taylor. It looked like
stalemate until Assistant District At-
torney Cochran thought of a method
of proof that was unique and conyvin ~

Wits Detective Stoner the attorney

got into an automobile at Florence
and Broadway, near the school, and
drove to Jack Asch’s bar, observing
all traffic rules. At the murder scene
they walked in through the back door
and stayed four minutes—the length
of time that witnesses declared the
murderer had remained in the bar. ~
They left and drove back to the school ~
where Cochran pulled out his watch. -
“Just eight minutes since we started
the test,” he said. “That blows Sim-
eone’s alibi all apart. He slipped away
during the program,.murdered and
robbed Asch and got back so quickly
no one suspected anything.”

Cochran, however, knew that he
needed more proof to convince a jury:
There must be no question that Sim-
eone was in possession of the murder
weapon before actual date of the
crime. To forge this link in the chain,
Cochran and Stoner went over the
robbery files, working on reports of
stickups attributed to the bandit with
the .38 pistol. They came eventually
to the old report of January 26 in
which the coast guardsman had been
shot in the foot. Description of the
suspect was the same as that in the
two murders under investigation.

Additional proof was the bullet
which had been recovered. Though
badly damaged, the slug was partially -
identified as having been fired from ~
Simeone’s gun.

Cochran decided to interview the
sailor. Taking Stoner with him, he
drove to Coronado. and located the
seaman. At Cochran’s request the man
looked through a group of photo-
graphs of various criminals. When he
came to the picture of Albert Simeone,
he paused and looked up quickly.
“Here’s the man,” he said. ,

“Was anyone with you that night?”
Cochran asked eagerly. “Anyone who Es
can corroborate your identification?”

“Yes,” the sailor said. “There. were
four of us fellows together. I think I.
can round them up for you.” — é.

It was the last bit of evidence the
prosecutor needed. He returned to
Los Angeles and began preparations
for the trial of Simeone. 2 a9
_ Meanwhile the charges against
Charles Taylor were dismissed. Daniel
W. Beecher, chief trial deputy for the |
district attorney, announced the dis- _
missal but stated that Taylor would be _
held for violation of his parole: re


was pulled far down over his forehead. But of course he
was no businessman but an entertainer, for in his hand he
clutched a glinting revolver and he was growling. “Okay,
nobody move! This is a heist!”

Mark chuckled. Yep ... the customers were getting a thrill,
J] right. Good show! :

He took another sip of his highball—and in that instan
“se coast guardsman’s prank-loving nature took over. Why not,
¢ thought swiftly, give the customers a little something extra
‘or their money? Something that would even hand the enter-
‘iner with the gun a bewildered minute or two?

‘fe swung to his feet, pleasantly aware of the attention of the
videnly silenced merrymakers, of the stunned faces looming

GOING through rogues’ gallery
cards, Mrs. Martinez and the
waitress pointed out one of the
photographs. “That's the man!”
they cried in unison. (Photo is
posed by professional models)

up white and ghostly in the smoky dimness. His jaws were set
hard in keeping with his role of deliverer. He was across the
room in a few strides, his right hand outstretched.

“Okay,” he said to the man with gun. “I'll take that pea-
shooter. If you want to use a rod, Uncle Sam’ll give you one
and put you to work where the hunting is real good!”

~® Mark’s ears caught the sharp murmur of relief and approval

which met his words, He would play his little joke to the hilt!

“All right,” he snapped. “Come across with the rod. I
haven’t got time,to fool...”

“Why, you...’ The gunman took a step back and suddenly
there was a roar and a bullet buried itself in the floor at Mark’s
feet. “Next time, buddy, Ill aim higher. Now get back before
I let you have it!” ;

The stinging odor of burnt powder drifted across the pain-
fully still room, the smoke from the gun mingling with the
tobacco pall that shrouded the already sickly illumination.

Mark-had not been taken aback by the realistic firing of the
revolver. “Smart Joe!” he thought delightedly. “Going all the
way with me to make this a real show!”

He essayed a wink, certain that in the gloom none but the
entertainer, for whom it was meant, would detect it. Then, his
hand outstretched, he took a step forward.

Charlie’s place rocked once more in the thunder of the re-
volver, and Coast Guardsman Mark fell back against the bar,
a burning sensation in his thigh.

“Well, what d’ya know!” he exclaimed bitterly. “The guy
was the real McCoy!”

Then all was confusion. Tables were overturned as occu- -
pants leaped up and milled about in the gloom. Women screamed
and someone shouted hoarsely for the police. Somebody else
had sufficient presence of mind to throw a switch, turning up the
lights. .

The added illumination quickly helped calm the crowd—
especially when it was found that the gunman had disappeared.
Coast Guardsman Mark himself, the unwitting monkey wrench
in the stickup machinery, was seated coolly in a chair near the
bar.

“I could have collared that bird if I hadn’t thought it was a
gag,’-he observed wryly. “Somebody get me a drink and an >
ambulance. I can’t bleed to death with a war going on!”

But to insure that he would not bleed to death, the coast

guardsman had already twisted a tourniquet above the wound in
his thigh.


54. The Master Detective

ea ek

Anna Lervick, twenty-two-year-old Norwegian sweetheart of the callous

eral weeks ago?” he cried, as if a vision had come to him.
“Do you remember the cap he wore with the vent holes
in the front of it? Remember he admitted stealing quite a
few cars and then confessed to robbing the little grocery
store just about two blocks from the Voorhies place? His
case comes up tomorrow before Municipal Judge Meikle,
doesn’t it?”

Carefully the detectives went over the case, comparing

all the details, as they came to their minds. Then, driv-
ing swiftly to their interviews, they hurried back to

report to Captain Dullea and myself.
“I believe we can have the murderer arrested
within twenty-four hours, with good luck,” O’Con-
nell told us. We went over the circumstances in
detail. It looked like a good hunch. Well worth
trying, at any rate.

Charles Simpson, was one of the bad boys
of the little community. He was a young
fellow, not yet in his twenties. But despite
his youth he had a police record. Originally
involved in some petty grocery store hold-
ups, he had gone in for larger game and had
finally confessed to stealing fifteen automo-
biles. However, due to the efforts of his
family, which was well respected in the com-

munity, he had been put on probation three
times, instead of serving prison terms for the auto-
mobile thefts.

Although we had no definite reason for picking out
Charles Simpson, we decided to play the hunch. Noth-
ing was done to arouse his suspicion. No one went near his
home at 345 Twenty-seventh Avenue, to shadow him.

Court was called as usual at 10 a. M. on February 19th.
The case of Charles SimpSon before Municipal Judge Ther-
esa Meikle on grand theft charges was continued by pre-

arrangement. Debonairly he walked from the
court-room, into the crowded corridor of the Hall
of Justice.

WO detectives stepped to his side. They were

Inspectors O’Connell and De Mattei.

“Come with us!” they ordered. “We want to
ask you some questions.”

The youth paled. But almost at once he re-
gained his composure. Keen-eyed detectives
watched every movement of the boy. Could they

? < .
murderer. She stood by him, unable to believe his guilt, until he be Wrong! They wondered a they led him to the
admitted he had taken her to a movie with the three dollars he obtained Homicide Bureau for questioning.

by murdering “Mother” Voorhies

ing the contents of the cash-register. The fire he had started
had burned on. Heavy, oily smoke had risen and filled the
building. The oil-covered figure of what had been a bright
and sprightly woman had burned on through the night.

The police worked feverishly to locate the killer. The
second day passed. Every possible clue was run down.
Theory after theory was discussed and then discarded.

Additional detectives were ordered on the case by Cap-
tain of Inspectors Charles W. Dullea. Inspectors Jack
O'Connell and Louis De Mattei, Paddy Wafer and Pete
Keneally were the men assigned to the work.

“Inspector McGinn,” Captain Dullea said to me as he
came into the Homicide Bureau one afternoon, “we are
doing everything possible to track down the murderer of
old Mrs. Voorhies. I feel sure that the crime was com-
mitted by someone in the neighborhood. I believe if you
follow the same system you have been following, that by a
process of elimination we will soon solve the murder.”

Inspectors O'Connell and De Mattei were sent out the
same afternoon, to interview several persons. Suddenly,
while driving out Market Street, Inspector O'Connell
stopped the car and pulled over to the curb.

“ve got a hunch,” he said.

“Louis, do you recall that young ‘punk’ we arrested sev-

The door of our office opened. He entered.
“Where were you the night of February fif-
teenth Simpson?” | asked him.

Coolly he lit a”cigar, and then without hesitating, related
the following story in detail.

He told of going to the house where his sweetheart, Anna
Lervick, lived. He did not go in as his purpose was to
“check up” on her, because he believed she was going with
another man. Simpson had hung around the vicinity for
some time but after a fruitless vigil of several hours, had
gone to a near-by park, lighted a cigar and smoked it while
sitting on a park bench. He had then walked leisurely to his
home a few blocks away and gone to bed about 9:30—
shortly after arriving at the house.

It was a logical story, but it seemed to us that he told
it a bit too easily. Most people would have had to stop
and think a few minutes in order to recall what they had
done three nights before.

I then tried another bit of strategy. Going to the locker,
I brought out the “mystery” cap, that had been picked up
at the scene of the murder.

“Simpson,” I asked, “do you ever wear a cap?”

Handing the cap to him, I asked him to put it on.

Not a flicker of emotion passed over his face. He looked
at the cap, tried it on. It was a perfect fit.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he said, “Exactly the same size that

| wear
Clemen
“Ano

store w
a stran;
It wz
for you
stolidly
he adm
| had
son was
absence
a confe
the mur
of murc
“Whe
He repl:
on Cler
Like
Turni)
marked,
phoned
clothes 1
The
just a hi
He was
haberda
would b
man wh

ARRI
min
leaving
had sold
waiting
we decid:

The mur
just as no:
he comm
cious crin
phoning °
heart fr
Francisco
hoped to
and to m
girl. We


San Francisco’s Startling Torture Atrocity 55

| wear. I buy my clothes from Johnson and Nordquist on
Clement Street, too.

“Another thing,” he volunteered, “My father owns the
store where the woman was killed the other night. Sure is
a strange coincidence.”

It was a strange coincidence, and it looked pretty bad
for young Simpson. But under continued questioning, he
stolidly denied that he had committed the crime, although
he admitted knowing Mrs. Voorhies very well.

I had to do some fast thinking. | felt positive that Simp-
son was our man. But how could we pin it onto him, in the
absence of something more definite than the cap? Without
a confession, we might as well not charge this man with
the murder. Our evidence was not enough to convict him
of murder in court.

“Where are the clothes you wore Monday night?” | asked.
He replied that he had taken them to a cleaner’s place
on Clement Street near Twenty-fourth Avenue.

Like a flash an inspiration came to me.

Turning to the other detectives, I re-
marked, “That is the cleaning man who
phoned about those — suspiciously-stained
clothes this morning.”

The suspected murderer seemed to lose
just a little of his poise at that test remark.
He was put in a car and taken out to the
haberdashery store in order to see if he
would be recognized by the proprietor as the
man who had bought the cap.

ARRIVING at 740 Clement Street a few

minutes later, two of us went inside,
leaving him out in the car. The clerk: who
had sold the cap was not in the store. While
waiting for him to return,
| we decided to play our last

The murderer, apparently
just as nonchalant as when
he committed his atro-
cious crime, is seen tele-

| phoning to his sweet-
heart from the San
Francisco prison. He
hoped to be freed
and to marry the
girl. Was he?

((é

card. We drove on up to the cleaning and dyeing establish-
ment. ;

Inspectors De Mattei and O’Connell again remained in
the car with Simpson. The rest of us made the feint of go-
ing inside to examine the stained clothes.

Simpson watched us get out of the car, still with that
sardonic smile upon his face. But when we went into the
store he began to get nervous. He could not control the
shaking of his hands. The half-burned cigar in his fingers
slipped, and dropped to the floor of the car.

GUDDENLY, out of a clear sky, he blurted, “I killed the
old lady. It was me that did it. I’m willing to tell
everything.” :
The fiendish “torch murderer” had confessed!
We returned at once to the Hall of Justice, Captain of
Inspectors Dullea and Officer
John Shilling, police short-
hand expert, were called
to the Homicide Bureau.
As‘calmly as a twelve-
year-old child recites
the alphabet, Simp-
* son made his con-
fession. In a mat-
ter-of-fact way,
he told how he
had decided to
rob the old
lady who was
(Continued
on page 84)

52 The Master

he cap had been one of a shipment received April 30th,
1930, and many had been sold since that date. Although
detectives now knew where the cap had been purchased,
they were no nearer the solution of the crime than they
had been before. The murderer had vanished, leaving prac-
tically no trace behind him.

Police Inspector Frank X. La Tulipe, the crime expert of
the Department, was called in. He went carefully over the
store and living-quarters in the rear, hoping against hope
that he would be able to find a few finger-prints that would
aid in solving the murder.

But a heavy, oily film of smoke had enveloped everything
in the building. Not a single finger-print could be taken.
The “torch murderer” had been clever.

Not a clue to the murderer’s identity had been left be-
hind, save the cap. Yet the style of the cap told clever
detectives much more than the murderer would have cared
to have them know. The style and the way it was worn,
convinced them that the murderer had been a young man.
It was highly probable that the fiend was someone who lived
in the neighborhood.

This was confirmed in the detectives’ minds when the
neighbors of the unfortunate woman were questioned.

Detective

a loving glance around the store to see that there were no the
boxes or cans out of place and that everything was in tha
readiness for the next day’s business. cei

Mrs. Ailene Thompson, 1521 Forty-eighth Avenue, had gy

been in the store at about 7:35 on the previous evening. As a
she left, “Mother” Voorhies had called after her a friendly,

“Good night, I'll see you tomorrow.” her
THE lock had clicked as she locked the door for the night tell

Poor, little old lady---little did she realize what the mor- hac
row, or even that night, would bring, as she set briskly about the
her work, effa

The polige had established, by an examination of the put
stains and the condition of the body, that the fiendish 90.
crime had been perpetrated some time during the evening int

before its discovery. (

With the evidence at hand and the report of Doctor fo
Adolphus A. Berger, City Autopsy Physician, who pave the
burning as the cause of death, the police set about trying sti
to reconstruct the movements of the criminal. he

It appeared that he had arrived on the scene somewhere kite
around 8 o'clock, as Mrs. Voorhies usually retired to the Dr
rear of her store by 8:30. No doubt he had hung around sack

outside for a few minutes in order to see that there were

tent
“IT was a friendly neighborhood. Although Mrs. Voor- no customers in the store. rot
hies, living alone as she had, was timid, she would always The little lady inside had apparently gone serenely about hee
open the doors of her store after they had been locked for her tasks, unaware of the staring fiend a few feet away from or
the night, in order to accommodate some friend in need of her. She must either have known him, or have been under kn
last minute groceries. the impression she did, to have let him in of her own free
It had been her custom to close and lock the door to her — will. F
little shop at about 7:30. She would then leave the lights But he had gained entrance and, once inside, had asked

burning while she set about straightening up the stock. She for some éclairs. As she turned her back to him, he had mi
vas very proud of her little establishment. An unusually — struck her a terrific blow on the head with some blunt in- hee
good day’s business always gave her a little added thrill, strument, perhaps an iron pipe. Scar
for she loved the feeling of independence, and the knowl- The paper bag had fallen from her limp hands. thas
edge that she could take care of herself and would never Her false teeth had fallen out as she slumped to the ha
be a burden to her children. floor. var
And always before turning off the lights, she would cast Cruel as had been the blow she had received on the head. an
tel

Ce i Naa aaa oe 0 CRNA UR ATEN BO I AR eS EA ESA at her

e Ne
: Stor

4 tri

4 Ol

4 de

hay

rib

ap}

she

fee
; line
. line
: drav
Tro

an
i mat
: pl:
| The
tik
iN’

i m<¢
pe

: :
pie
At the right is seen Fire Lieutenant Manuel Abreo of the San Francisco Fire Department, who discovered the smouldering par!
body; examining the hole burned in the bedroom floor of ‘‘Mother’’ Voorhies’ home ing

}


San Francisco’s Startling Torture Atrocity 53

the autopsy showed
that she had not re-
ceived injuries from it
grave enough to have
caused her death.

Back in that cham-
ber of horrors—the bed-
room—there was no
telling what torture
had been inflicted by
the murderer, in = an
effort to locate the re-
puted wealth — which
gossip had hidden away
in the little store.

(Crimson spots were
found upon the walls of
the grocery. Other
stains were found in
the small bedroom,
kitchen and bathroom.
Drawers had been ran-
sacked and their con-
tents strewn about the
rooms. Covers had
been ripped from cush-
ions. Pictures had been
knocked down.

FrROM place to place
where the search for
money and jewelry had
been made, there was a
scarlet trail showing
that the aged woman
had been dragged from
one room to another in
an effort to make her
‘| the hiding place of
her hoard.

\pparently she had
been led about the
store as her captor
tried to make her point
out where it was hid-
den. After what must
have been hours of ter-
rible torment, the fiend,
apparently convinced
she would not tell, had
bound her hands and
feet with some clothes-
line rope cut from a
line in the kitchen,
drawn some kerosene
from a can in her store,
poured it over her body
and set her afire—a hu-
man torch.

Mrs. Voorhies, dur-
ing this period, had ap-
parently managed to
withhold the hiding
place of her jewels.
These were found in a
trunk by the detectives
and included a_ dia-
mond ring, — several
pearl necklaces and
2 number of other
pieces.

The killer had de-
parted after ransack-

PEE EEL LORI LI ee

STS

PREM

Pe

The man who forgot his gray cap, demonstrates to the police how he clubbed ‘““Mother”’ Voorhies in
ing the place and tak- her grocery store just as she was about to close up the premises, on the night of February 15th, 1931


without getting any

‘ton took her to her
on. That was all she
d.
x turned the little
juvenile authorities
n of her story. Then
aen and me he was
our laps.

Hayward and con-
Forth, who told us
find Sexton’s. em-
was cooperative, but
d not sent Sexton to
no idea what restau-
met there.

“do you know any-
iond? We understand

n by a man of Greek .

zht for a moment and
ame of a cook who
taurant in Hayward
Richmond.

during the war,” he
ine is Kostas—John
heard from him for
have gone into busi-

er inquiries in Hay-
r Richmond. On the
cate the store where
edly delivered some
we found the one the
referred to, the pro-
Sexton had made a
e in question.
ive better luck here,”
d in Richmond.
rolice headquarters,
W. T. Smith tried
address of a restau-
\ostas. There was no
er that name, how-
: police records, the
e city tax records.

” I remarked finally,
"ll have to canvass
town until we locate
t he doesn’t exist.”
rgested that we begin
down the street. It
Greek, who _ there-
1ainted with Kostas.
t the proprietor said
of the man.
hoto of Sexton. “Did
low?” I inquired.
ad. ‘‘Never,” he said

ent followed another
the Buckhorn Cafe
rder some food and
1€ sO many times be-

roprietor whether he

iaid, beaming. “What

m Sexton’s picture.
er been in here?” he

Sure, he came in one
e to buy meat from
me printed cards and
iter, but I don’t have
id now. Anyway, he

f the date of Sexton’s
been a few weeks or
viously, he said.

me with Sexton?” I

cute little blonde—
o may have been her

nged startled glances.
’ Spike said quickly.

“Let’s get this.straight. Do you mean
there was another fellow besides Sexton
‘with the girl?”

.© Kostas meant exactly that. He assured

- us he remembered the trio quite well and

did not have them confused with some-
one else.

“They stayed about half an hour, then
_all three left together,” Kostas said.

Armed with the restaurant owner’s

description of the second man, Spike and
\1 drove back to Oakland and went to
‘the juvenile authorities to see Mildred
Leeds. j

4) “Mildred,” I told her sharply, “you’ve
i been withholding information from us,
g haven't you? There was.another man with
jyou that night—a little, dark-complex-
‘ioned fellow. What’s his name?”

) Her big blue eyes faltered under my
ssteady gaze. She looked down but said
‘nothing.

“Look, Mildred,” Spike urged, “don’t
‘get yourself involved in this murder by
itrying to cover up for anybody. You can’t
jhelp him, and you'll only hurt yourself.
|The only smart thing you can do now
‘is come clean.” i :
| When she still remained silent, I said,
“You see, Mildred, we found that.restau-
“fant you visited in Richmond.”

She looked up, surprised. -

“And we talked with the owner,” I’

went on, “and he told us all about this
‘other companion of yours. Who is he?”
“Just a friend,” she said. “He goes by
the nickname of Don. I don’t know his
‘last name.” ‘

SHE thought he still lived in Hayward,
‘U7. but she didn’t know his address. We

“itook her back over her story again, and

‘she gave us a new version of the holdup
‘shooting. 3
». Driving his boss’s car, she said, Sexton
had taken her for a ride. They picked up
‘Don in Hayward and the three of them
drove to Richmond wHere they stopped
at the Buckhorn Cafe. She and Don had
ysomething to eat while Sexton made his
sales talk to the proprietor. Leaving

““there, they drove to Oakland.

_Mildred said that Sexton and Don had
discussed the -former’s: plan to rob
~Harames. She said Sexton showed them a

.32-caliber pistol, and that both he and
the other youth handled ‘it. att

_. However, it was agreed between them
that they would not use the gun. Harames
Was an old man, and tHey believed they

-|/could get his money easily enough “by

strong-arm tactics.
While parked near the store of their
intended victim waiting for him to start
for home, the two youths worked out
their robbery plan.
‘ They would wait until Harames
-stopped in front of his home driveway
‘gates, when they would come up on
tither side of his truck and jerk open the
jdoors. Don was to grab Harames and
(Sexton would take his money.

» But while they were waiting near
'Harames’ home, Sexton took the auto-
matic from the glove compartment. of
ithe car. ‘
| “Hey, what's the idea?” Don demanded.
“What are you doing with that thing?”
. “Dll just take it along,” Sexton told
him. “Maybe Harames has a gun. We'd
better not take any chances.”

} Don tried to persuade him to put the
weapon back in the glove compartment.
You may get rattled and shoot the guy,”

Mildred said she also pleaded with Sex-
ion not to take the gun.
| He scoffed at them both. “Imagine me
getting excited and shooting somebody

accidentally,” he said disdainfully. “I

know how to handle a gun. Just leave F

‘that part of it to me.”

The shooting occurred four or five
minutes later, as Mildred had previously
related, except that before she had left out
any mention of Sexton’s confederate.

“I heard the shot,” she told us, “and
knew something had gone wrong. They
both came running back, Don in the lead.
Sexton jumped behind the steering wheel
and started driving. He drove like a wild
man,”

When she and Don asked him about’
the shooting of Harames, she added, he
made the statement she had previously

attributed to him, that Harames had put .

the truck in gear instead of raising his
hands. ;

Sexton dropped Mildred off at her
home in Hayward, then he and Don went
somewhere together, she said: :

We tried to obtain some clue to Don’s
identity, but she insisted that she didn’t
know his last name or his address. We
asked her about.’his family, and she said
he had four brothers, the youngest of
whom was about ten.

“Do you know their names?” Spike
asked. :

She did, and we wrote down each of
the brothers’ names as she gave them to
us. .

It_was late at night when wé returned
to San Leandro. We got about three
hours’ sleep, then we drove to Hayward.
Spike went tothe sheriff’s sub-station,
where Deputy! Condon aided ‘him in
searching the files for a record on a
youth called Don, At the same time, Chief
Forth and I undertook the same search
at the police station.

According to Mildred Leéds, the sus-
pect was about 22, the same age as Sex-
ton. Chief Forth thought it was likely
that he had a record as a juvenile, so we
began looking through that card index.
. We had no luck «until Forth reached
the “S” file. Then he produced a card
bearing the name, “Dominic \Silva.”

“This, might be your man,” he said.
“Silva is 22. He goes by the nickname of
either ‘Don’ oy {Dom.’” ‘

.Istudied the‘déscription that was typed
on the c4rd. a was about 5 feet, 4
inches tall, dakk-complexioned’ and of
medium build.

“If he has four’ brothers,” I remarked,
“ahd they have thé right names, we won’t
have to look any) further.” ,

Forth found a!photo of Silva, which
showed him to be a mild-looking, rather
swarthy vouth. The number on the photo
referred to’a folder containing his family
history. When Forth produced that
folder, we found the names of his four
brothers and knew that Silva was the
man We sought. -“

But the search was not over yet. When
Spike and I went to the address where
the Silva family had lived, we learned
that they had moved to Oakland. Ap-
parently no one in Hayward knew the
Silvas’ present address.

At length, after interviewing several
persons, we found out that Dominic
Silva was married but separated from
his wife. We obtained her address and
went to talk with her. ‘

The girl said he was living with his
mother and brothers at 1928 98th Avenue!
in Oakland. She added that she unter-,
stood he had just bought a convertible
coupe.

“I think he said it’s a Ford,” she told
u

8.
We didn’t want to go to Silva’s home
except as a last resort. For, if wé failed
to find him there, he might learn ‘that
we were looking for him and take flight.

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A search of the bars in Hayward
brought no trace of Silva. We cruised
around the town, watching for a Ford
convertible, and made numerous inquiries.
By 10 o’clock that evening, we still had
not located Silva.

I went to a telephone then and asked
“Information” whether there was a
phone at the Silya family’s residence.
The operator found one listed under the
street number I gave her.

A moment later I was talking with a
woman who was. evidently  Silva’s
mother. I asked her whether Don was
there. She said he wasn’t.

Around midnight, we decided to drive
to Silva’s home and wait for him to return.
We radioed our intention to Chief Lam
oureux,who told us to pick him up and he
would accompany us.

The three of us arrived at the Oakland
address fifteen minutes later. There was
no sign of a car there, so we assumed
Silva was still absent. We parked some
distance from the house and waited.

Shortly before 2 a.m., a Chevrolet con-
vertible drove up and parked in front of
the Silva residence. We hurried over to
it and found Silva sitting beside a man
who turned out to be a brother.

We took Dominic Silva to the police
station in San Leandro. While I began
to question him, Chief Lamoureux
stepped over to a filing cabinet and got

}

an enlarged photograph. He placed it
on the desk in front of the suspect.

Silva gave a start. The picture showed
the corpse of Harry Harames on a slab
in the morgue, and the bullet wound in
his chest was plainly visible. As he stared
at the photograph, tears welled up in
Silva’s eyes. ‘ ae :

Abruptly he buried his face in his hands
and began to cry. “I wish it was me that
got it instead of him,” he sobbed. ~

FTER that, it was £ simple matter to
obtain the whole gto

wing day, we filed a murder

plaihg) aning Harold Sexton and

minic Jilv4. On December 30 the tw
yduths arraigned fore Poli
Jufige Q O.| Heffernan\ Both pleaded

guil

n J 26, Mild Leeds testi-
fied for ‘ prosecution Qhen the pair

y hearing in

court for trial. He recently had been

acquitted of the charge of assaulting the
gas station attendant. ’

Silva, on the other hand, remained co-

operative. He came of a good family and

\ was essentially religious, we discovered.

At the present time, it appears doubtful ”

far from c
Spike Rese 5
questioning pofels itnesses and run-
ning down cluts, &«jng which time we
i Nlucky to get one
night’s sleep. Our efforts were not
n.
Seton had eq to more than one
rder, and we un-
uch as we would not
for. When thé trial
ution is going to spring
surprises, as a result
d I found out.
t of the police investi-
o the charges against
nd Dominic Silva is pre-
tion, the two youths |
trial which will deter- §
nee or guilt of each.

q

Beast of Buffalo

[Continued from page 27]

“We'll be right down,” he said. “I don’t
like this a little bit. It isn’t like Marion,
not like her at all.” Ae

The distraught parents hung up and
tried the Grand Island club. No, Mrg¢
Frisbee hadn’t been there. Wig

the Frisbee home. There they heN
family conference in an atmosphere\of
apprehension.

kidnaped, perhaps by a man who
crept into her car. A police alert conkg
ing her description and that of her ma-
roon sedan was at once broadcast.

But nothing came of it until the follow-
ing morning, Sunday, when a farmer in
the town of Clarence, just east of Buffalo,
came upon Marion Frisbee’s body j
roadside ditch. Still in her fur coa'
lay sprawled down the road embankr
her feet in the swift lowing water of th
ditch. Her skirt was missing and a sma}-
caliber bullet had entered her f
just over the left eye. The shocked Mymer
drove directly to the state police post
a few miles away to report his discove

Two uniformed troopers
clothesman were on the spo
Arthur Britt and Undersh
Loepere arrived. The sheriff
the window and said: “What
like?”

“It looks like assault.f a furhatted
trooper told him. “We fgund this pair
of broken eye-glasses, we'll have to
check to make sure the e hers.”

Then pointing to an area o¥ scuffed and
trampled frozen mud a e edgwof the
road, he added, “That's whe ley strug-
isc. sb she certainly was killed here. We

ound these pieces of mink trim torn from

66

Frisbee that
missing pe
morning.

e from telling
plans for the
add little to th

his wife’g
he could

the driveway about 8 o’clock laff
was a maroon Chevrolet four-
you know, and@Mariog

driver.

but planned to stopa
No, I haven’t any ided Wha
to purchase nor where_sh
buy it. .
‘ “Marion could take care of herself. She
was poised and self reliant. She was a
trained dental technician and had done
department-store personnel work.”

the store which Marion Frisbee stokped
at could prove a vital lead. For concgiv-
ably, the beast of Buffalo could hAve
hidden in the back of her sedan while she
was shopping. Further questioning of Mry
Frishee, however, brought in a new pos-
sibility. The Frisbees were not always too
careful about locking the car doors!

That meant the killer might even have
been in the rear of the car when Marion
Frisbee drove away from her home. If
this were true, then the slaying might
have .been motivated by vengeance on
Mrs. Frisbee rather than be the work of

i

night street Rrowler who happened to 4

ick her as his@ictim. With this in mind,
the two detecti¥es next interviewed sev- |
friends of the Frisbees to obtain a |
ure of the victim’s background. {
hey learned that the Frisbees had /
n a devoted et despite the fact that /f

on was tlh¥rteqn years his junior.
n the slightest hint
een them. She had-
ing companion whose >
ter were above re-
n a preference for:

proach. He ha

cultivating his n social circle, which ~
meant that at times she was escorted to)
social gatherings by one or more of their’
friends whileghe went his own way. It was’
rant arrangement which >
rather than weaken the!
en them. 4
Ruppert were han- ,
his phasaol the investigation, other
ectiwas we canvassing the area
e open on Sunday, in
ermine where Marion~
ed en route to meet her
drew a total blank; no
: \This gave some support’
possibility Nat her slayer had been
y in her car even when she left her ©

‘

stoppe@ where Marion Frisbee’s body
found] As they slowed down to see if:
i as in trouble, a tall, dark man}
no more than 25 years old:

ht.
ark man,” mused Chief Fitz-
“That is something, but not
much. There are too many 25-year-olds'}.
in Buffalo to whom that description would
apply.” t

By this time Fitzgibbons had the medi- ;
cal examiner’s report on his desk. Mrs.4
Frisbee had been killed by a rifle bullet |
of approximately .32 caliber, fired from a
distance exceeding three feet as there

mx

.were no powder burns on h
Her lithe slender body bore f
show her assailant had beat
gloves on her hands still cov
pensive rings and a wrist wz
Periodically, the radio carr
of the killing into the home
populous area until once agai
out some vital information, 4
dent on Buffalo’s East Side.
the scene of the crime, phone
he had spotted the Frisbee
across the street from his hc
“It wasn't there when I we
an hour ago,” he told the offi
rived soon after his call. “I Ic
carefully when I came back,
because of the mud frozer
fenders. Then I got in the hou
the broadcast, giving the lice:
“Our slim dark young man
in the neighborhood,” Fitz¢
his men. “Pick up anybod)
looks suspicious.”
Meanwhile, police had for¢
locked doors of the maroon s
they found a bottle of Scotch
three bottles of soda water
hats, size 7 and %; an old
action rifle sawed off at bot!
stock; Mrs. Frisbee’s purse
in back, and a soiled belt fr
gabardine trench coat. Cos:
and other normal contents o:
handbag were strewr. about
there was no money in evide
At headquarters, Mr. Fris
identified the whisky, soda an:
Identification men then ran
the car and found one clearly
gerprint that differed from t
either Mr. or Mrs. Frisbee.

ee OW we're getting some

N chief said. “From the
under the fenders, the car ha
ditch somewhere, so our mai
very good driver. That means
doesn’t have an auto of his
must still be in the section w]
was found.

Turning to Assistant Dete
William J. Tedesco, he said:
your territory down there. C
Take Fremming with you. He
East Side like the back of his t
two do a job like you did on tl
zinski case, we'll have him.”

_A few months before, Joh
zinski had made the fatal
quarreling with his wife, a {
Cherokee. Returning home frc
party, they had had a bitter ar
the heat of it, Mrs. Paliwadzin:
a knife and plunged the six-inc
to the hilt in her husband’s ni
only a few days before had co
of manslaughter.

“We'll just have to round
youth in that neighborhood
owned a rifle,” Tedesco said
Patrolman Leroy Fremming cl
the car. “I guess that's just al:
body over 16 down there, and
aren’t 16 yet.”

“I’m glad the chief mentione
zinski,” Fremming said.

“She’ll be up for sentencing
days. There’s a son of hers liv
East Side. I want to stop in a
him of it. Guess he’d like to see
before she goes up, though lh
didn’t take her side in the ma
case.” :

“i remember him,” Tedesc.
“His name is LaMarr and he
one of the railroads.”

“That's right, a section hand
or 20. I guess. He lives a queer


5. Sexton was still a suspect, but we had
no real evidence against him. Our new
lead concerned a young Hayward hood-

lum and looked more promising.

According
had been tappi
Lambert had bee
plans for armed ro
tall enough to come ¢
the description we had o

tip and trailed La
to Richmond

of Oakland.
Nthe aid of the local

He denied any kX
slaying, and furnj
up under mexest wa

holding knowledg&f some kind.
This soon turngd
under our intd-
rogation and said {that h® was acquaint
with a fellow whd might be the slayer of
Harames.
According to hi
the much-wante
whose /médu gperandi was

soda, then drdw a’ gun \
place.

“His name
Dillard—Griff
over a bar o
land.”

said our informant, “2
Dillard. He ha
past 14th Street f

UNDER Our questioning, Lambf€ry
identified the bar and told us tHat
Dillard claimed to have escaped from\g
prison in Arkansas. He wore a sailor,
uniform and dyed his brown hair red fn
order to disguise himself.

We immediately telephoned the Og
land police and gave them this infor
tion. That same day, two. Oakland
tectives apprehended the suspected
ber in his rooming place.

By means of his fingerprints, “Dil
was quickly identified as RichardJ/La
Verne Griffin, an escapee from the prison
for men at Chino, in Southern Calis
fornia. He admitted his identity. Griffin
was charged with robbery and escape,
and at this writing is. awaiting trial in
Oakland.

We were glad indeed to have aided
in the apprehension of Griffin, but the
lead had proved just another in the series
of disappointments we experienced in our
efforts to solve the murder of Harry
Harames. For Griffin denied any knowl-
edge of that crime and had a sound alibi
for the night of September 1.

It was about a week later that Chief
of Police George Forth of Hayward re-
ceived a tip about a pretty young blonde
who had been overheard in a bar saying
that she knew something about the
Harames murder.

“T could tell the cops who killed that .

grocer,” she was supposed to have said,
“but I wouldn’t dare. If I told what I
know, it might cost me my. life.”

Chief Forth spent several days trying
to run down this tip. He was unable to
obtain a description of the girl, however,
beyond the fact that she was young and
attractive. It was not until December
18 that he learned the identity of a girl
who might be the one he was seeking.

Her name was Mildred Leeds. She had
lived in Hayward since she was a little
girl, and now, at 17, she was an unmar-
ried mother. The juvenile authorities
were familiar with her case, and they
had not given up hope of straightening
her out.

On the following day, Chief Lamoureux

64

eT

underworld sources we
a youth named Jerry
overheard discussing
ries. Also, he was
e to answering
e killer. Spike
Rosaaen and I set out to run down the
fbert from Hayward

in locating our man.
ledge of the holdup
d an alibi that stood
However, his

ain that he was with-

“whisky-and-sodd me talk,” she ple

- roofs

went to Hayward in response to a tele-

phone call from Chief Forth.

“All I know,” Forth said, “is that Mil-
dred Leeds fits the description I ob-
tained of a girl who was overheard
talking about the Harames case in a bar.
Whether there’s anything to the tip still

remains to be proved.”

Lamoureux went to work. A few hours
later, after learning that Mildred Leeds
and Harold Sexton Rad been seen to-
gether on several occasions, he brought

the girl to the
station.

The slender young blonde showed he

Hayward polic

fright. She gave .evasive answers until\
f participating
n to break

Lamoureux accusQ her
in the holdup murd&, S
then.

““T just went along ride,” shé

hispered. “I didn’t know he was going

to kill anybody.”
“Who did it?” Latkou

She averted her blue nd remainec
silent. He tried a shot iy rk: “Wa
it Harold Sexton?” ;

She began to weep. ry: bn’t make

anNonefagain. Now,
are you willing to codpdratP by telling
us what you know?”

She thought it over for a nfoment, the
nodded. “Yes,” she said, “{’ll tell yo
everything.”

Lamoureux phoned
our headquarters and t wo of the
brought the girl to San ndro. I too
over the task of questigning her in th
chief’s office.

Mildred Leeds was Cdoperative but
cautious. She didnt-volunteer anything,
and what she told pis in reply to my ques-
tions came’ in bri
swers.

Denying that she
heart, she said slfe

ike Rosaaen a

some meat toa
ployed by a Ha

They set out fogeth
sedan, and Sexfon left
hog at-a store] in Oakla ;
drove on to Richmond, ere Bexton
said he wished fto talk with & prosbective
customer. .

“We went t
mond,” the gi
talked with tHe owner. I
some cards a
his boss’s na

On the ret
told her he fen a butcher
¥ed the neces-
e said he knew where he

in front of a ba
the store. He
mes lock the dood and‘ walk
delivery ‘truck, then he 3
street to San Leandro and \arked About
a block from Harames’ hgfne.

When Harames’ truck appeared, Sex-
ton took a .32-caliber automatic from the
glove compartment and went to intercept
the victim. He was gone two or three
minutes. Then the girl heard a shot and
Sexton came running back.

He turned the car around and drove
off at a furious pace. She asked him what
had happened.

“T told him to stick ’em up,” he related,
“but he put the car in gear.” He added

that he had fled without getting any
money.

The girl said Sexton took her to her
home, then drove on. That was all she
knew, she concluded.

Chief Lamoureux turned the little
blonde over to the juvenile authorities
pending investigation of her story. Then
he told: Spike Rosaaen and me he was
dumping the case in our laps.

We first went to Hayward and con-
ferred with Chief Forth, who told us

er was cooperative, but
d not sent Sexton to
no idea what restau-
bwner he had met there.

r thought for a moment and
the name of a cook who
restaurant in Hayward
d to Richmond.

may have gone into busi-

sil Richmi@nd.” ;

per, making other inquiries in Hay-

wafd, We set out for Richmond. On the
we tried to locate the store where

'

h we found the one the
ly referred to, the pro-
at Sexton had made a
delivery on thq date in question.

“Let’s ho e have better luck here,”

4 as we Grrived in Richmond.

d police headquarters,
f Insgectors W. T. Smith tried
the address of a restau-

E e,” I remarked finally,
¥ we'll have to canvass

Sy

oom down the street. It
y a Greek, who there-
acquainted with Kostas.
ere, but the proprietor said
eard of the man.

@ photo of Sexton. “Did
ellow?” I inquired.

at he doesn’t exist.”

pos@fively. » ’
e disgppointinent followed another
u we d at the Buckhorn Cafe
rder some food and

€ so many times be-

Sexton’s picture.
r been in here?” he

ure, he came in one

to buy meat from
his poss. He left some printed-cards and
blotters on the courter, but I don’t have
any of them around now. Anyway, he
was here, all right.”\

He had no idea of the date of Sexton’s
visit. It might have been a few weeks or
several months previously, he said.

Was there anyone with Sexton?” I
inquired.

“Sure, a girl—a cute little blonde—
and some fellow who may have been her
boy friend.”

Spike and I exchanged startled glances.

“Wait a minute,” Spike said quickly.

suggested that we begin

ead. “Never,” he said _

oprietor whether he’

“Let’s get this.straight. I
there was another fellow b
with the girl?”

« Kostas meant exactly tha

’ us he remembered the trio «

did not have them confuse
ene else.

“They stayed about half
all three left together,” Ko

Armed with the restau
description of the second m
I drove back to Oakland
the juvenile authorities to
Leeds.

“Mildred,” I told her shz
been withholding informat
haven’t you? There was.ano:
you that night—a little, ¢
ioned fellow. What's his n;

Her big blue eyes falter
steady gaze. She looked ad
nothing.

“Look, Mildred,” Spike -
get yourself involved in th:
trying to cover up for anybo
help him, and you’ll only }
The only smart thing you
is come clean.” ;

When she still remained
“You see, Mildred, we foun:
rant you visited in Richmo

She looked up, surprised.

“And we talked with th
went on, “and he told us a
other companion of yours. V\

“Just a friend,” she said.
the nickname of Don. I do
last name.”

SHE thought he still lived
. but she didn’t know his
took her back over her stor
she gave us a new version c

4 shooting.

Driving his boss’s car, she
had taken her for a ride. Th:
Don in Hayward and the tt
drove to Richmond where t
at the Buckhorn Cafe. She a
something to eat while Sext
sales talk to the proprietc
there, they drove to Oakland

_Mildred said that Sexton a
discussed the former's pl
Harames. She said Sexton shx

.32-caliber pistol, and that t

the other youth handled it.
However, it was agreed he

dthat they would not use the gu

was an old man, and they b:
could get his money easily

4 strong-arm tactics.

While parked near the stc

intended victim waiting for |}
Gfor home, the two youths .

pe No

se

their robbery plan.

They would wait until
Stopped in front of his hom
gates, when they would co
either side of his truck and je
doors. Don was to grab H:z
Sexton would take his money

But while they were wa
Harames’ home, Sexton took
matic from the glove comp
the car.

“Hey, what's the idea?” Don
Vhat are you doing with t}
“TV just take it along,” §&
him. “Maybe Harames has a

Abetter not take any chances.”

Don tried to persuade him

aweapon back in the glove co:

“You may get rattled and shoc
he argued.

Mildred said she also pleadec
ton not to take the gun.

He scoffed at them both. “I
getting excited and shooting

¥

$y.

SEXTON, Harold, white, gassed CA (Alameda) March 16, 1951.

en ee

Hareld Sexton

Too many people

knew that Harames
carried his money home
in a paper bag

By F. LELAND ELAM

ERGEANT JACK T. ASHMAN of the San Leandro,
California, police department pulled his squad car to
a stop before a red light, took a pencil out of his shirt
pocket and crossed September 1, 1949, off the calendar
hanging above the windshield. The light changed and .he
eased the car around the corner onto a side street while his
‘partner, Officer Stewart Moll, checked the houses on both
sides of the street, running his powerful flashlight along the
pavement and keeping it lew.
“Attention Car 10. Attention Car 10.”
Moll pulled the switch on the radio and picked up the
microphone. “Car 10. Go ahead.”
“See Charles DuPuis at one-oh-four, repeat one-oh-four,
Estabrook Street.”
Moll jotted the number on a pad above the dashboard.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
“DuPuis says he heard some shots in his neighborhood.
After the shooting was over he heard people running; then

A2

REAL DETECTIVE, August

» 1950

Lamoureux question Dominic Silva.

he heard a car-race away. I can’t guarantee that there’s any-
thing in it, but you’d better check it.”

“Right.” Moll dropped the switch and put the mike back
in its cradle. Ashman was already racing the car along Esta-
brook Street; but Moll stopped him before he could get to
number 104.

“Here it is,” Moll said, and Ashman pulled ‘the car to the
curb. There was a delivery truck halfway into the driveway
at 53 Estabrook Street. Behind the truck, just over the pave-
ment,‘ lay an old man, his legs twitching slightly.

“Radio for an ambulance,” Ashman said, climbing out
of the squad car. He went over to the injured man and knelt
beside him. “What happened?”

An incoherent babble came from the twisted lips of the
wounded man. Ashman put his ear down by the old man’s
mouth and slowly took his story: someone had shot him
during an attempted holdup; the thug had been young and
dark-haired and had worn a tan shirt and khaki pants. Ash-

man told
and went
The am
Wayne M
the wound
pavement
came up ™
called Chi
Lieutenan!
to remal
He four
old man
of a fruit:
a few mi
home. T?
had passe:
In Har
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|

was moved to attack the young slayer
would not be safe in the station house.
Hence an automobile was phoned for and
the prisoner was spirited away to the In-
diana reformatory, then located at Jef-
fersonville, a short distance north of
Albany.

Youth Admits Slaying

SAP its the youth safe behind the re-
formatory walls, officers began to
question him about the bank holdup and
shooting. But they met with scant suc-
cess, The prisoner was sullen and ner-
vously defiant. He refused to talk except
to say that he knew his “goose was
cooked” ‘and that he had fired the shots
which had taken Faweett’s life and
wounded two other men.

Meanwhile, outside the walls, the
machinery of the law had been thrown
into high gear. Street by street, the route
taken by the killer was traced. A bridge
guard had seen the car pass. Another
man had noticed it at a different point.
A woman thought she knew the prisoner,
Running down each new tip, each tiny
lead, the work continued until noon of
the next day. Then, after careful checking,
officials once more questioned the youth,
telling him what they had learned, The
completeness of their information broke
down the killer’s last vestige of reserve.

His name, he admitted, was Thomas
Jefferson Hoal. He was 17 years old and
had formerly lived in Knoxville, Tenn.
Until a few weeks prior to the fatal rob-
bery his parents had operated a second
hand furniture store in New Albany.
They had then moved to the Preston
street address in Louisville where he had
planned the bank robbery. It was to be
a masterful coup. Young Hoal figured
that he “might get as much as, maybe,
five hundred dollars!”

From other sources police learned that
Hoal always slept with a revolver under
his pillow and had been known to
threaten his parents with it. When he
lived in Knoxville the boy. had organized
a gang which made its headquarters in a
“bandit’s cave.” Once the juvenile group
had held up a prominent citizen and were
caught; but because of their ages, the
boys were set free with a reprimand from
the judge.

When he was informed that Fawcett
was dead and that both Woodward and
Tucker were probably dying, young Hoal
showed no remorse or concern over the
fate of his victims, Instead, he dwelt
with great pride upon the construction of
the ah box which was found in

the shed at the rear of the Preston street
address and how he intended to escape in
it. Just before he left Louisville on his
New Albany raid he had called an express
company and asked them to pick up the
box that afternoon, fully confident of
making his escape after robbing the bank.

Hoal was held without bail; and on
November 13, 1909, he was indicted by the
grand jury for murder and robbery on
three counts. Tucker, naturally, was
completely exonerated by the grand jury.
There was never any suspicion that Hoal
had any confederates in the commission
of the crime.

Woodward and Tucker were still
fighting for their lives in a New Albany
hospital when Hoal was brought to trial
on November 26, There was a slight
delay in the proceedings when a change
of venue was granted which took the case
to the Harrison county circuit court at
Corydon, Ind., twenty miles away.

Woodward subsequently recovered
from his wound and left the hospital but
he never regained complete health. When
he died a year later physicians declared
that death was caused solely by the
effects of the bullet wound received in
the lootless bank raid which took Faw-
cett’s life. The negro chauffeur, Tucker,
likewise recovered after lying at the point
of death for weeks.

Slayer Gets Life In Prison

IN SEROUS legal delays postponed
Hoal’s ultimate fate; but on May 7,
1910, the youthful killer was formally
tried, found guilty and sentenced to life
imprisonment in the Indiana state prison
at Pera City, Ind.

There Thomas Jefferson Hoal, the
four-gun bandit, became merely a num-
ber; and by all counts should have re-
mained so until the end of his days. But
on September 22, 1919, about ten years
after that crimson day in New Albany,
the killer made a successful break for
liberty. The details of his getaway are
vague; but as this is written, he is still at
liberty and all efforts to find a trace of
him have failed. Readers of STarTLING
Detective ADVENTURES are urged to study
the photograph and description of Hoal,
printed elsewhere i in this issue. This man
may be living in your community under
an assumed name, confident that he has
put his criminal record behind him. But
he is still wanted by the law. He-still
owes society a debt for the wanton killing
of one man and the subsequent death of
another. If you see him, notify the
nearest police authorities and return this
fugitive slayer to justice.

‘what I’d just done.
was looking at me and saying: “Wife
killer!” It was awful. I had a sick,
panicky feeling at my stamach. I even
caught myself looking at my hands to
make sure they were clean, that I hadn’t
left a trace of blood on them.

I pinned a sign to the door. It said:
“Gone out” or “Back soon” or something
like that. It was a sign my wife had
made and kept around the house to use
when she went out. She was a fortune

I felt that everybody

teller, reading the future from cards.

Holding my son tightly by the hand I
went to Jefferson Park in Seventh street.
On a piece of paper I had with me I wrote
my son’s name and address and pinned it
to his overalls, I hugged him tightly and
then told him to go play in the park.
That was our goodbye.

From then on I was on my own—a
fugitive from justice—with every man’s
hand against me. The sight of a cop
gave me the shakes.

76 TuHank You For MENTIONING StarRTLING DertEctIVE ADVENTURES

+

aR

I toot
electric
west t
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city I
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ticket f
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Showr
and fir
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39

ards.
ind I
treet.
wrote
red it
Vv and
park.

wn—a
man’s
a cop

I took one of the big red Southern Pacific along the creek to change my clothes in
electric trains on Seventh street androde the willows. I made the change so there
west to the Oakland pier. There I got wouldn't be anything on me that I'd

the ferry to San Francisco. Once in the worn when I skipped out of Oakland. I N
city I didn’t waste any time. I didn’t didn’t know what kind of a description ONLY
know how soon the hunt would begin. the cops had sent out on me. Or even i 9 ¢
At a wildcat stage office I bought a bus they’d sent one out. Maybe they hadn't fd Le
ticket for Portland, Ore. In seven hours found the body. But mostly I worried Course on Arm

MOULDING A
MIGHTY ARM
-

ewe ew

we crossed the state border and I was in about my kids. Where were they now?
Oregon. I took the wildcat stage be- Who was taking care of them?

cause people in it were like me, not too With my new clothes, construction

well dressed, mostly working stiffs, and camp cast-off stuff, I hit the trail again.

nobody’d question’ how I looked. I lived in hobo jungles, eating with the GET A 18
i INCH BICEP

I didn’t stay in Portland. I didn’t know _hoboes, sometimes traveling with them
how soon my wife’s body would be found and often hiding out and sleeping with
and the police would start looking for them. My idea was that'd be the safest
me. Anyhow, I figured the country would place for me, safer anyway than a city. : aay
be safer. But I had to hit the cities once in a ~

I hiked out to the city limits and then while. ie and bene
began thumbing my way, hitch-hiking I needed money. Whenever I could
short trips down the California highway. get work I took it. I couldn’t bum all
Doubling back on my tracks. I read the time. I worked at whatever I cou
somewhere when I was a kid that’s what find, construction camps mostly. I’m a
foxes do when the hounds get too close cook and it wasn't hard for me to get

1 have taken
weaklings
whose arms

developed them
into strong men

forearms!
1 will show you how to develop

so as to mix up the trail some. work. Only I didn’t want to stay in any abet triceps, shaped like
one spot too long. I'd figured out it was horseshoe, and just as stent and

Changes Clothes With Workman best for me to keep moving. Not to stay $ a dit double head formation.
put too long or let people get too familiar sinewy eapte-iihe mu Wouldn't you like to have the

arm bellies Hisgbes bulk, the great

a

lumn
the wrist grows alive and writhes with cordy sinew. 1
ts of strength development Hllustrated

HS far I hitch-hiked, I don’t know. with me.

Somewhere along the highway I Along about the end of September, t ows Jal

spotted a dam construction camp. There 1934, J wound up in Pendleton, Ore., Gnd explained as you like them opay

‘rere a lot of men working there. I where they hold the big wild west round- scout RUSH THE Con er ( TODAY, sven,
MUSCLES LIKE IRON.'' Full of pictures of marvelous

traded one of the workmen for some ups and rodeos. But I was scared of the MUSCLES LINE, Heir you decisively, new yon Gan build
1

other wearing, apparel and went down fown and I didn’t stay long. It was too

George F. Jowett: Send by return
mail, prepaid, the courses checked
below for which I am enclosing

—e

0 All 6 Books for $1.00

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Shown in his cell in the Alameda, Calif., county jail, Louis Shaver points to his picture

and fingerprints in STARTLING DETECTIVE ADVENTURES for March, 1935.

“That’s what happened to me,” he said a8 he waited for the fate which may sen him to
the gallows for the brutal murder of his wife.

<<< << <—<—_—

City eo

a |
~I

Tuank You For MENTIONING STARTLING DETECTIVE ADVENTURES

1]
ticle! ‘ ,)
Shaver, )
how the 1
TARTLING |
ded him y
v
By

LOUIS R. SHAVER
As Told To FRANK PIAZZI

pected shower of icy water. It brought me

back to my senses. I stared down at my blood-
stained hands. In one I held a bread knife, the
pointed blade dripping red. In the other I held a
foot length of inch-and-a-half gas pipe, the tip red-
dened and matted with hair. At my feet lay my wife,
Lillian. I’d killed her.

And at the door my four-year-old son was trying
to come in. :

The faint rap of his balled fist brought home to me
the realization of what I’d done for the first time.
Murder! I’d killed Lillian—my wife—my boy’s
mother !

Te faint rap on the door was like an unex-

Plans To Escape

THe realization sharpened my brain. I had to
get out of that room—fast. I had to escape before
anybody came in and found the body. I ought to
dispose of the body. I didn’t want my children to
come in and see their mother; not like that. The
other two were at school already. This was the
morning of September 11, 1934, at our flat at 2326
Telegraph avenue, in Oakland, California.

I went to the door and opened it an inch. I told
my son to go to my room and wait for me. Then I
closed the door and went back to where my wife’s
body lay. The gas pipe I threw in the stove. The
knife I wiped clean and hid in a drawer of the side-
board. Then I dragged my wife’s lifeless body into
a closet underneath the stairs behind the bed. The
closet was small and I had to squeeze the body in,
cramping the legs. Then I shut the door and nailed
it tight, finishing by pushing the bed up against it.

My hands were bloody. So. were my jeans. I
changed clothes quickly and mopped up the room
wherever blood had spattered. I finished by throwing
all the bloody rags and clothes into the stove and
burning them. ‘Taking a last look at that unhappy
room I went out and joined my son. He wasn’t
dressed vet and I dressed him. »

We left together by the front door. I looked fear-
fully up and down the street. Nobody paid any atten-
tion to me. I felt as though everyone ought to know

[Continued on page 76]

On the opposite page Louis R. Shaver, con-
fessed wife slayer, is shown holding the copy
of SDA which ultimately led to his capture
by Seattle officers. At right, his wife, Lillian
Shaver, victim of his murderous rage. At right,
below, arrow points to the closet in which
officials made a shocking discovery.


It hits the heart, this sen-

sational dramaof a man and

wife who, unafraid, went

forth to live a strange ad-
venture. Read Leila’s con-
fession of an amazing love

episode that flamed to life

under a tropical moon.

Y

Also in this issue: BORN TO LOVE
He Was—SO EASY TO FALL FOR

IF JANET GAYNOR SHOULD
FALL IN LOVE
AS HE DESIRED ME!

Crease Si ions FOR THOSE KISSES WE SHARED

NOT MINE TO TAKE

10°

close to the California state line and it
made me nervous.

So far no one even suspected me. I
was just nervous, that’s all. So I shoved
out again and headed for Denver, Colo.,
arriving there about the middle of Oc-
tober, 1934.

I went down to a hotel on Nineteenth
pone and signed my name to the register

“Stanley Faust.” Nobody questioned
wel I had a little money and paid my
way as I went. Then I heard about a
job and went out to the Table Mountain
camp to work. I was there two months.
I liked the place and the work but I was
nervous. What was doing back in Cali-
fornia? So far I hadn’t heard a thing.
The papers I got hold of didn’t have any-
thing in them about Oakland,

I went to Denver for the Christmas and
New Year’s holidays. I stayed at a mis-
sion on Lorimer street, giving the name
of James Britton. Lucky, nobody recog-
nized me as the same guy who used the
name of Stanley Faust. I’d used that
name only once, on that hotel register.

When spring of 1935 came I was on my
way again. This time I went to Pueblo,
Colo. I was there a week under the name
of John Howard. That spring and early
summer I spent roving around between
Cheyenne Camp, Colorado Springs, Den-
ver and Cheyenne. I never stayed put
for long.

As days, weeks and months passed and
nothing happened I began to feel better.
Nobody suspected me. Cops never both-
ered me once. I got used to them pass-
ing me up time after time without stop-
ping me. Somehow I got the idea that I
was going to stay free, that they’d never
get me for killing my wife.

I went to Wyoming.

I spent a month in the federal transient
camp at Laurel, Wyo. I liked the place;
the food was good sand the bunch wasn't
nosey. I thought I'd stay through the
summer. But my swell plans were
whacked right out from under me.

A Startling Discovery

£

A’ BUNCH of visitors hit camp one

day. It was only a mile and a half
from town. They brought a stack of
magazines with them for the gang in the
transient camp to read. I happened to
be in camp when the visitors arrived and
I got to the magazine pile first.

I picked out a copy of Srartiinc DeE-
tECTIVE ADVENTURES, the March, 1935, is-
sue. I took it with me and went out into
the woods where I’d found a quiet se-
cluded spot. I thought I’d spend the
afternoon reading.

I opened the magazine and started
reading a story about a California mur-
derer who'd killed his fortune-telling
wife,

It was about me!

Quickly I turned the pages. There was
my picture—two of them, in fact! And
my fingerprints! And the whole story
telling how a couple of newspapermen,
investigating why my son had been lost
in the park, had discovered my wife’s
dead body stuffed in the closet!

It was a warm, sunny day, quiet and
peaceful there in the woods and I was all
alone. But I had the shakes worse than
if I was in an ice-box with a squad of
policemen. All of a sudden the feeling
swept over me that there was a cop be-
hind every tree. Every time the wind
rustled a leaf or sighed through the pines
I jumped. I kept looking over my shoul-

78 THank You For Mentioninc Startiinc Detective ADVENTURES

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T was late on the afternoon of Sep-
Jia 1ith. A furious wind from
the bay battered the bleak, gray house

on Telegraph Avenue in Oakland, Cali-_

fornia. Above the shingled roof ominous
clouds clotted the sky, and already 2
few -raindrops had splattered on the
sidewalk below.‘ :

Madame Lillian Shaver, psychic
medium extraordinary, sat in one of
the dwelling’s dark and heavily
rooms. Illumination from a concea
source cast an eerie glow over her
_ Slender and_passionate face. She leaned
forward, cupping the crystal ball in her
hands. Her shoulders were round and
white against the low neckline of her
black, velvet dress; her throat was a
smooth column of ivory.

“There are red clouds in the crystal,”
she whispered. “Clouds like blood.”

The man at the other side of the
table bent toward the medium, his
nostrils filling with the warm fragrance
of her perfume. “Blood?”

by Karl Gilbert

CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE,

Madame Shaver did not reply im-

mediately. Her normally piquant fea-
“tures were strained with concentration
and her bosom rose and fell rapidly
-with her breathing. Then the crimson
clouds parted and her eyes went wide
with shock. “Th—there’s more in the
crystal,” she gasped. “A corpse.”

She pushed back her chair, rose with ©

an effort, and stumbled across the room
on French-heeled pumps. For a mo-
ment she stood by the door. The pale
light glinted off her silk-clad legs and
her head was bowed as if she were
expecting the stroke of a whip across
her back. .

“You've got to leave. The reading is
over.”

The man groped through the shadows
to the exit. “But why?” he asked be-
wilderedly.

“Because I recognized the corpse,”
she answered huskily.

“Who was it?”

“Me.”

Ten minutes later found Lillian
Shaver upstairs in her bedroom. Her

‘hands were shaking, two bright spots

From the CONFIDENTIAL Files of

‘CALIFORNIA

“warned on her checks, and her breast ==
“was heavy with fear. Although she- had

always believed she was gifted with
second sight, she had never had a vision

so intense and terrifying as this one. -

In an attempt to calm her nerves
she. gulped down a glass of water and

"two Sspirins. Deciding to rest until her

son came home, she unhooked her dress,
peeled it off, and slipped into a diaphan-

ous negligee. Desperately she tried to —
-, smile at her voluptuous reflection in the
~—dresser mirror-“Y'nr just- overwrought,” —-————

she quavered. “Nothing is going to hap-
pen to me... .” :

was nearly midnight of that same
day in 1943 as Officer N. C. Daniel-
son bucked his way through the wind
and rain that lashed Jefferson Park in
Oakland. Hearing a sound in the bushes
ahead, Danielson halted and squinted
through the gloom. A small, gnome-like
figure darted out of the foliage and
into the middle of the muddy path.
“Who's there?” Danielson demand-
ed

The only answer was a plaintive wail. _

~~

Specially posed

"She'd make a sullen mouth at me. Then I'd try to
scare her info lovin" me. But she didn't scare...

(Bpewelty) uUTIUeNd ues pesuey ‘eqtum ‘*y stnoyT ‘wHAVHS


Danielson raised _ his. flashlight and

 tramed> it ca tai Nap sppacitions Rec :
_ vealed im the ghostly beam was a tow- -
“headed boy of about four years. Tears ©

coursed down the child’s cheeks and he

_ was shivering with cold. To his coat was =

pinned a pencilled message saying -that
pe: ed ap Roose on. Telegraph As.
enue. =
“I don’t know how you got here,

“but Tm taking you home,” said Daniel-

son gently. He lifted the boy in his

to the designated address. When there

~ Was no answer to his repeated ring- —
_ing, he went to the house next door.
A woman answered. E

“Oh yes, this is the Shever bor
little Louis. He was over here playing
with my kids just this afternoon,” she
said. “No, I haven’t any idea how he

happened to be in the park. I guess .

you might as well leave him here. I'll
take care of him until his mother gets
home.”

“Where's the boy’s father?” Daniel-
son queried.

“He’s working up in Sacramento as

a cook. Had to take a job there because
he couldn’t get nothing around here.”
Danielson nodded and took his_de-

~ Killer’ -looks —gtimly © aware “that

~~ replaced by the hangman's noose.
Note beter toed on eat

~~

> could not ‘push the strange incident from

=~ his mind. When he filed his nightly re-

"port, he suggested that another officer

~check im the morning to make certain
- that the boy was all right. :
‘arms and carried him the short distance ~

So it was that the case came to the
attention of - ‘Captain Alex Trotter. In-
~ Stead of assigning the check-up to a
patrolman, as would have been cus-
-tomary, Trotter decided to make it him-
= self:

“Call it intuition if you like, but I've
got a hunch that something is seriously
wrong,” he told Inspector James Good-
night.

Trotter and Goodnight jumped into
a police car and rocketed to the
Shaver home. There, to their amaze-
ment, they found the premises unlocked.
After ringing and getting. no response,
they entered.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Trotter said.

In contrast to the rooms below, those

_ his~ flossy bowtie~ will soon be-

Steet ier a heed toni bi

See which hed Ieetactiel diet ani
which apparently opened into a dimina-

‘Wordlessly, ‘Trotter: spun on his heel
and raced downstairs. When he returned
he had a claw hammer im his hand. He
dropped to one knee and grimly began

_ to pry the nails out of the wood. The

slowly and of its own volition, the door
_Swung open.

Trotter gasped at what he saw and
went stiff with horror. Goodnight, peer-
ing into the compartment a moment
later, inadvertently turned away, his
face blanching and his forehead prick-
ling with perspiration.

“Good Lord!” he muttered in the
voice of a man who had unexpectedly
been kicked in the stomach.

Jammed into the tiny closet was the
body of Lillian Shaver. The voluptuous,
twenty-five year old woman was nude
to the waist. The alabaster skin of her

on the second floor were simply and bosom and stomach was a crimson net-

: Lillian and Louis had been living in
Oakland for only a few months. They
had moved there from Troy, New York.

9 2 him as mild, good-natured, and slightly ~~

(Continued on page 30)


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the nearby com-


fi

‘eg

ae CAO

required no knowledge of

“inalistics to know Daniels had been mur

“dered. A’smail trickle of blood was still -

<* Daniels’ squad car? For the time being,

right wrist standing in front of a soup — killer stopped Daniels’ car, taken him
kitchen. At the officer’s command the rene een Cee het bin

man rolled up both sleeves, revealing ~~ ¢ official order went out: “Block-

the name “Lillian” on his left fore-.’ the highway from Key West to Miami.

‘pr, ee 7 Be om the slert for State Highway Pa-

Pisini <saa gov't Sook she ten” ~~ Soon after the car was found, partial-

~ “is going to get me, But I dop’: care. — Rages “aPmondhee seen
She was a rotten woman an. she ran‘ W@S empty, indicating the killer

a rotten place. Killing her was the best St control in his mad flight. Well,

thing I ever did.” = =~-__ he couldn't be far away on foot. Hiding.

=~ =..Ne. doubt, im the scrub palms. and

Who Thought
CRIME PAYS

;

Up
EBS
fer
E
:

he
7
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E
:

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B
4
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a
g

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é
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2
ze
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— fice. First, he found a phony driver’s
search and reached license, and a ncte book with the names

iy
iH
ul
Bs
Fé
ae
af
By
h
Fr

I

with the aid of his big flash- _ his ilk, we leave to your imagination.

the silhouette of a car parked More, a number of lewd, meaning nude,

i e. He radioed his head- Photes of women were also found in

and was told by Captain Seneff his pockets. :

to stay on the spot until: more officers He denied killing Daniels. In fact, he
: didn’t know what Mills was driving at.

The abandoned car was the stolen They never do. Two hours later, how-

is
[

- Plymouth coupe. Upon arrival, Seneff  ¢ver, confronted with much potent evi-

began a search of the vicinity. A hun- dence, he admitted that his real name
dred yards or so north of the car they | was Byrd! L. Hudgins, from Georgia.
found, tying off the shoulder of the I sat next to him during his trial
road, a human body. It was Luther in criminal court and he was the most
iels, and he still had his gun, with bored person in the courtroom. He
barrel fully loaded, in the holster. tried the old insanity dodge but it
32. b > =a ~ -

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We now come to the next case, and  *"

we'll title it: :
MURDER COMES WHOLESALE
The time is about 7 p.m., the place
Miami, and the date July 17, 1942. Mr.
and Mrs. Irving Leopold were playing
checkers in their apartment directly
over their poultry store. Stephan, their
six-year-old son, was playing in another
room.
Quietly, ratlike, a tall man entered,

© CONFIDENTIAL FACTS FROM

z:
age Oe ar Seeriipes Aegee

the . i

this. car.” He had decided to forget the

help. The bandit had hardly sped out of
compassion of a hungry sight when che bar-owner phoned the
intruder fired three more police, giving a.description of his car.
as Ten minutes later he was, caught as

=. ~~ he was crossing the Jacksonville Bridge.

The captive. showed no fight; the de-

in. Miami and I never heard of no
Leopold or Morin.”" =~

"Asked to explain his possession of
“the two guns—.22 and .38 calibre—he
said they belonged to a pal of his, a

“ took the two guns, hopped an express
plane for Washington, and, along with
the bullets extracted from the four
bodies, asked the FBI to give them a
test. The test was positive, the bullets
were fired by the two guns, and that
was the beginning of the end for Vin-
cent Christie. _

When this evidence was thrown into
his pasty face, he admitted he knew
Leopold. “He used to be a member of
My gang,” he lied. “He double-crossed
me; see? That’s what I went to see
him about. He tried to kill me first;
see?”

“Nuts,” said Mills. “Come clean,”
said Melchen.

His trial was short and sour—for

POLICE RECORDS —

if
Ba

dealer in guns. More baloney.~So. Mills _ -

Fi
E;

about the Chair. Did it

hurt? Was it quick? Would it burn his
flesh? He had spent much time im
saying prayers—prayers for his own
soul, mind you, not for those of his
four imnocent - victims. ee
ing of December 11,

F

For no good reason, Ralph
Morin, 19, was left with
four shots in body and head.

rheostat, and Vincent Christie is dead.
And if crime pays, he most certainly
got gypped.

And now, finally, we come to:

THE MADMAN WHO TRIED

TO KILL A PRESIDENT

The day is February 15,. 1933, and ~
the place the bandshell at Bayfront
Park, Miami, Florida. A vast crowd
was in the amphitheatre, awaiting the
arrival of Franklin Delano Roosevelt,
President-Elect of the United States.

A minute or so before 8 pm. a
signal was given the band leader, in-
dicating the new President would ap-
pear shortly. The band played Had To
the Chief, and soon a large limousine


surtace, such as a table or wood floor, will
dry completely in about an hour at room
temperature. Where it is collected in pools,
it may be several hours before it is dry,

depending upon the size and depth of the |

pool formed.

After a matter of a few hours and after
the blood has become completely dry, it is
very difficult to tell from the bloodstains
how, long they have been there, because
changes in them from that point on take
place very slowly. In general, however, the
older that bloodstains are, the blacker they
become.

When small drops of blood strike a surface |

at an angle, it may be important to know from
what direction the blood came. When the
hlood strikes a smooth surface, it will be
noticed that it often leaves a large blot with
one or two smaller ones trailing off in a
straight line. This condition ts caused by
the blood coming from the direction of the
large to the small blots. In other words the
largest blot is made first and then the
smaller ones afterwards.

(Reprinted from “Homicide Investigation,”
Copyrighted 1944 by Charles C. Thomas,
Publisher, Springfield, Tl.)

‘The third article in this reprinted series

roull appear in an early issue of INSIDE

DETECTIVE—THE EnrrTor.

“That's the Man!”

‘Continued from page 17)

see what else it says about him ... Name’s
Robert Jetton, age 26. Sentenced on his con-
viction of robbery in_Los Angeles County.
to a long term at the California prison at
Chino and released on parole only last Feb-
ruary 6, after...”

“Hold it!” Hurst interrupted. “Did you
say February 6?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Asch was killed two days after Rob-
ert Jetton was sprung from Chino, but
Jetton was still in stir when the guy with
. the cleft chin shot up Charlie’s Place on
January 28!”

“The thing to do is bring Jetton in and
have Mark and all the other witnesses take
a peep at him,” ‘Stoner said.

Jetton was located without
through the county parole board at an apart-
ment in downtown Los Angeles.

“What're you trying to pin on me?” he
demanded.

He was taken to First Street headquarters
and placed in the line-up.

Every witness in the Asch and Martinez
killings was on hand. So were those who
had seen the shooting at Charlie’s Place—
with one exception. Coast Guardsman
Mark had been ordered back to active duty,
his whereabouts known only to his superiors.

The showup was brief and dramatic. Mrs.
Martinez and Helen Hodges at once enti-
fied Jetton as the slayer of the tavern
keeper. The majority of the Asch witnesses
were no less certain that Jetton had com-
mitted the killing at “8201.” Only from those
who had been at Charlie’s Place was there
an unwillingness to put the finger on the
prisoner as the man responsible for that
unforgettable affair.

“I don’t blame them for hesitating,” Stoner
whispered to Hurst. “The Coast Guards-
man was the only one to get a good look at
that bird.”

Jetton denied he had murdered Asch and
Martinez.

“Look, son,” Stoner said quietly. “If we
thought you were innocent of all this, we'd
fight to prove it. But more than a dozen

people have positively identified you as the
Further, you haven't been able to

man.

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+ the 1400 block of West Fifty-fourth Street.

Charlie’s Place is located in southwestern Los Angeles—in
An ambulance was
soon clanging up and Mark allowed himself to be aided to the

“tle and carted off to Georgia Street Emergency Receiving

vital.

..1e police cars drew up at the cafe a few moments later, dis-
gorging officers of the nearby Seventy-seventh Street division
and Detective Lieutenants George Stoner, Claude Thaxter,
Frank J. Beeson and Ralph Gaffaney of the downtown Central
robbery detail.

HE INVESTIGATORS were quickly disillusioned in what-

ever hopes they entertained of gaining much constructive
information regarding the attempted shooting. Witnesses—
and there were many—contradicted one another. The bandit
was tall. He was short. He was thin. He was fat. He wore
a hat. He didn’t wear a hat. He caried a machinegun. He
carried an automatic. He carried a revolver.

“If anybody tells me this mug was lugging a bazooka,” Sfoner
grumbled to one of his men, “Ill not be surprised a bit.”

The bullet that wounded Mark had torn completely through
his leg. This slug and the one the gunman had fired into the
Hoor were recovered by Forensic Chemist Ray Pinker and mem-
bers of the police crime laboratory.

“Looks like .38s from a police positive,”
-tudying the twisted missiles, “Big babies.”

Stoner and his men journeved to the hospital and there found
Mark propped up in bed. His wound and whatever quantity of
hlood he had lost apparently had had little effect upon him.

“T still sav.” Mark growled, “that I’m_a sap... a 24-carat
sap " 7

“You’re a brave man,
‘Don't take it so hard.
help us?

“Sure, if you mean a description of the mug. It was so dim
in there, I guess [ was the only one to get a close look at him.
if | ever see him again, I'll know him. He was about 30, good

. broad shouldered. kind of big eyes. But the best bet is
hin.”

What about it?”

“It had a deep cleft in it. You fellows round up a bunch
oft hirds with cleft chins and parade ‘em before me. [ll give you
a yes or no.”

“Thank you, son, we will.”

The following day—January 29, 1944—hundreds of rogues’
vallery mug shots were shown the coast guardsman and the other
witnesses, but the cleft-chinned man’s photo evidently was not
imong them, And there, for the present, the matter of Charlie's

Place. rested .

Jack Asch operated a cocktail lounge at 8201 South Avalon
Boulevard, in Los Angeles, known as “8201.” It did a good
‘business and on the night of February 8—11 days after the
affair at Charlie’s—the cash register had been sounding
particularly merry music. A few minutes before closing time
the customers had tapered off to_a mere handful and Asch,
briskly polishing glasses. was preparing to call it a successful
evening and go home.

Then the door swung open and a young man entered and sat
at the har.

Yep, thought Asch, it almost never fails—the last minute
drinker barges in, stares at the clock, says, “Give me a fast one!”
—then gulps his drink and vanishes.

“What'll it be?” Asch asked.

“Give me a fast one! .Bourbon—no chaser.”

Asch smiled, poured the drink.

“Nice night,” the young man said affably.

“Sure is, but [’m glad it’s about over. Tired as the dickens
tonight.”

The young man tilted his drink, drained it, smacked his lips—
and dropped the glass into his coat pocket.

“Say, wait a minute.” Asch _ protested.

tage on. You can’t do that.”

sure as hell can!” the other snorted. Suddenly there was
v gun in his hand and the easy grin vanished from his -lips.

“This says I can do anything! i

“W hat—what i is this? A stickup?”

“You're a mind reader, brother. Fork over!” ;

Asch hesitated. This had not been the first time he had been
ordered to “fork over.”

“What if [ don’t?” he demanded abruptly.

The bandit’s mouth twisted. into ugly lines, and the gun

Pinker. offered,

from what I’ve heard.” Stoner said.
What we want to know 1s, can you

s

“There's a glass

Wa.

POLICE CHEMIST Ray
Pinker helped to fasten
the crimes on the right
moan by scientific exam-
ination of pistol slugs.

“LOTS OF guys have
cleft chins.” observed
Lieutenant Lloyd Hurst
(right) after hearing a
description of slayer.

lifted. “Then you get a one-way trip to bartender’s heaven!
Come on... ‘give !”

With a resigned sigh,
the stack of currency
“Thats all of its...
some dollars.”

The gunman stuffed the money into a_ pocket.
smiling: queerly. “Thanks, pal.
I hate to do this . «. thts, | mean!” He made a short motion with
the weapon. “It’s kind of dimlike in here, but vou’ve gotten too
close a gander at my map. You might talk too much.”

There was a sharp explosion and Asch melted from. view
behind the bar. The gunman swung around and_ backed
toward the door, his smoking gun menacing the handful of
startled drinkers at the tables.

“Anybody who tries to follow me gets the same dose of
poison,” he husked. “Sweet dreams !”

Asch turned and slowly gathered up
in the register and handed it over.
the night’s earnings. Two hundred and

He was
You look like a nice guy and

IEUTENANT STONER and his men from the robbery detail
were soon on hand, accompanied by Detective Lieutenant
Lloyd Hurst of Central homicide.

Asch had died mstantly, the slug crashing through his chest
and out the back, burying itself in the wall behind him. The
patrons, moving dazedly about, were ordered by Hurst to be
seated. ;

“Now,” Hurst began,
killer look like ?”

“Like the cold-blooded murderer he is!” one of the women
sobbed. ‘He never gave the bartender a chance .. .”

When Hurst and Stoner closed their little black iotebubks,
it was with disappointment. The witnesses could not entirely
agree on the gunman’s description. Three recalled only that
his chin was deeply cleft.

“That could be,” Stoner mused, “the bird who staged the
ruckus at Charlie’s Place. That chin fa

“Lots of guys have cleft chins,” Hurst grunted. He turned to
the fingerprint man. “Anything on the door ?”

“Wiped clean. He must have used a handkerchief.”

“What about the bar? The guy had a drink .

“He put the glass in his pocket,” one of the patrons spoke up.
“Smart hombre. No amateur.”

Pinker and his men retrieved the bullet from the wall. It
was badly crumpled.

“Large caliber we
Asch's_ spine.”

The witnesses were escorted downtown to the police record
bureau and there shown a quantity of rogues’ gallery shots
But on none of these could they place the finger by

There were only five persons peepentt . ms g

“tell us what you know. What'd the

. probably a .38,”" the chemist said.

“Broke

Wr


Jas I. ree . 4 TT e ‘ wet
2) elaine lt a. BI 8 es ht A at IN ct Blt lta, eseipeitls Sey Avie i 8 Ee Faget

*

{

EYEWITNESSES CAN BE WRONG!
THE POLICE LEARNED THAT
WHEN THEY NEARLY SENT AN

!NNOCENT MAN TO HIS DEATH

Y - = “
Sok
- . + >
: “
'

MRS. HELEN MARTINEZ, shown in court with her soldier
son, was used as a shield by the mad dog gunman who: held
up her husband and then shot him down in front of a safe.

A. Martinez, prepared to close up his cafe at 2230 Whittier
There were,
besides Martinez, his attractive wife Helen; a waitress, Helen
Hodges, and two customers, both seated at the dimly illuminated
bar. One of the customers was a young man slouched in an.
awkward, hunched position, his felt hat pulled low over his

Boulevard in the eastern section of Los Angeles.

eyes. He was drinking beer with a hand that was gloved.

Martinez was depositing the day’s receipts in a safe at the
rear of the bar. He rose, the safe door still open, and turned

to his two customers.
“Last call, gentlemen. What’ll it be?”
“Another beer,” said the young man with the hat.

The remaining patron shook his head. “I’ve had plenty. Be

seeing you,” he said and departed.

Martinez brought the beer. The waitress was in the kitchen
Mrs. Martinez, who had been seated on a stool at the rear,
Started for the door to lock it. She was abreast of the young
man at the bar, when, like an uncoiling spring, he came off the
stool, swung her about so that she faced her husband, and clasped
her tightly to him. There was a gun in his gloved right hand.

“This is a holdup !” the young man snapped. “Get back to the

safe, Martinez, and unload it for me!”

against the dark leather of the gunman’s glove.

A low moan came from the woman as her stunned husband
. Stared first at her, then at the deadly weapon glinting dully

A COAST guardsman
in Charlie’s Place
thought a stickup was a
part of the show—until
he was shot in the leg.

PUBLIC DEFENDER EI-
lery Cuff admitted his
client’s possession of
@ gun, but attacked an
identification. He lost.

“Please ... don’t hurt her,” he finally managed, “I'll do any-
thing you say, only... .”

“Get going then!” — aor

Martinez shuffled to the safe and knelt.

“Fast!” the bandit urged. “Fast!”

Martinez rose and extended a thick handful of bills, which
were quickly scooped up and thrust into a pocket.

“Take another look,” the gunman ordered. “Maybe you're
holding out on me.”

“But I haven’t. . . .”

“Look anyway!” .

Martinez knelt again. Callously the gunman squeezed the

trigger. The weapon bucked with the explosion and Martinez

sagged over, a bullet in his back. A scream sounded from the
kitchen and Mrs. Martinez went limp in the brutal killer’s arms.
He let her slide to the floor, strode swiftly to the door and
stepped out into the night . . . .

Again Stoner, Hurst and their men were told the same story—
the young man with the cleft in his chin! But the description of
er was an improvement over that which they had been given

efore.

“Dll remember that beast if ever I see him again,” Mrs. Mar-
tinez wept. “I’ll remember him !”

“And I will too,” the waitress exclaimed.

The two women were too upset to be taken to headquarters
that night for a look through the rogues’ gallery, and the for- |.

mality was postponed until the following afternoon. Meanwhile
Martinez’ body was turned over to the county autopsy surgeon
and the bullet removed. This slug was intact—and again Pinker’s
estimate was that it had been fired from a .38-caliber revolver.

“There’s no doubt this rat with the cleft chin is responsible
for the two killings and the shooting at Charlie’s Place,”
Stoner scowled. “The trick is finding the right chin.”

“We can be sure,” Lieutenant Thaxter opined, “that he won’t
be leading with it. A mug who’s smart enough to wear gloves,
walk off with a whisky glass and use a handkerchief on a door
so he won’t leave prints—that, and time everything to perfection
—well, he won’t be easy to turn up.” " :

O THE AMAZEMENT of the investigators, Mrs. Martinez

and Helen Hodges, the waitress, had barely started through
the criminal files than both, at almost the same instant, extended
trembling fingers at one of the photographs,

“That’s the man!” they exclaimed in unison, and Mrs. Mar-
tinez added bitterly, “He’s the one who killed my husband.”

“You're both certain ?” Hurst asked.

“Positive !” ‘ :

“He’s got a cleft chin, all right,” Stoner put in. He flipped
the photo over and studied the typing on the back. “Description
matches generally, too.

Now let’s (Continued on page 47) V7

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provide us with any kind of an-alibi at all.”

Jetton shifted uneasily. “I still tell you
I’m innocent. Why don’t you do as you
say and go out and find the killer?”

“I’m afraid we have—and you're it. We'll
have to let the law take its course.”

No gun had been located among the pris-
oner’s possessions. If the weapon could be
found, the science of ballistics would do the
rest with the aid of the bullets fired in the
two killings and the Mark wounding. The
microscopes would show whether the slugs
had spewed from that gun.

But the multiple identification of Jetton
was more than enough to go on. He was
formally booked for murder, arraigned and
given a preliminary hearing at which he was
ordered held for Superior Court trial on
September 5, 1944.

During the intervening months Stoner and
Hurst interviewed Jetton several times in his
county jail cell, imploring him to come
clean. But the young man with the cleft
chin insisted he was innocent.

“Some day,” he said, “you'll set me free.
You'll see.”

Stoner sighed. “All I can tell you, son,
is that you don’t know how close you are
to the gas chamber. Think it over.”

Records in the case were passed on to the
district attorney’s office to aid in prepara-
tion for trial, and Stoner returned to his
office to start on a new investigation.

The forgery detail had asked Stoner’s
help in ferreting out a gang which had stolen
a large number of checks signed by the
Adams Bill Paying Agency of Los Angeles.
This type of check was sold to individuals
who could use therg whenever they wished
simply by filling in the name of the payee
and the amount. This simple expedient
made unnecessary the keeping of an account
at a bank. The thieves were using forged
credentials in cashing the checks, and thus
far every attempt. to nab them had failed.

TONER WAS MULLING over the
case on the afternoon of August 24 when
the phone clamored at his elbow. The caller
identified himself as the cashier of a check

_establishment in the Pacific Electric Building.

“Two men just came in, with one of the
checks your forgery men have circularized,”
the cashier said. “I stalled and then told
them we didn’t cash any of the Adams Agency
checks but that a spot over at Hill and
Eighth Streets did. They said they’d go
there. They're just leaving.”

“Fast thinking,” Stoner commended.
“That's only a few blocks from here. We'll
have a reception committee on hand when
they arrive.”

Lieutenants Beeson and Gaffaney of the rob-
bery unit and Detective Lieutenants Roland
Sanders and J. B. Bennett of the forgery de-
tail were summoned at once and sent on
their way. When the two suspects entered
the establishment at Eighth and Hill 20
minutes later, Beeson was behind one of the
counters, acting as clerk, and the other. de-
tectives were deployed at desks.

One of the suspects, garbed neatly in a
sports shirt and coat, and hatless, presented
a check made payable to “Fletcher J. Marsh”
and drawn on the Adams Bill Paying Agency.

Beeson gave the check a casual glance
and inside his brain a bell rang. Fletcher J.
Marsh, he recalled, was the name of a
bartender who had reported being held up
the night of March 2 outside his cafe. The
officer remembered the case well because
Marsh had complained not at the loss of a
small sum of money, but of his draft card,
which he had failed to sign. The man who
had just handed over the check for cashing
was certainly not Fletcher Marsh.

“Got any identification?” the detective in-
quired in his easy manner.

’ “Sure. Here you are.” The man fished
in his wallet, withdrew a draft card and
tossed it over. “That should do it.”

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84

The Master Detective

San Francisco’s Startling Torture Atrocity

Assistant District Attorney William
W. Murphy who successfully pro-
secuted the torch murderer

his father’s tenant. of her little fortune.

He realized he would have to kill her
because she knew him too well. He
would be arrested for the robbery if he
didn’t. Accordingly, he had left his
home that evening, carrying a small
black grip. Under his coat he clutched
a police club.

He had arrived in front of “Mother”
Voorhies’ store between 8 and 8:30. It
was dark. After waiting outside a few
minutes he had knocked on the door.
She had recognized him, opened the
door and welcomed him in.

“T was shaking all over,” he contin-
ued. “She asked me why | was shaking,
and what was I looking all around for?
I said:

“‘Couldn’t I look at my own dad’s
store?’

“She laughed and | laughed. Then I
ordered some €clairs.”

How that laughter was to mock the
events that were to follow!

Simpson did not seem to sense this
as he told of striking the old lady from
behind with his club, as she faced the
cooky rack. And how, while he ran to
turn off the lights and lock the door,
she staggered to the back of the store.

“But she wasn’t quick enough to lock
me out,” he boasted.

I! was incredible that this strong

young fellow could feel a touch of
bravado in the fact that the frail old
woman could not escape him.

He told how he had pushed Mrs.
Voorhies down in the chair, had struck
her again and agdin on the head, and
had then tied her hands and feet.
Whether she had been knocked uncon-
scious or not he did not know.

In his own words, “She fell off the
chair. I ran to the cigars and cigarettes
and took all the money out of the till.
It was about three dollars. Then I went
and took coal-oil from the barrel and
poured it over the front of the store
and then threw some on her body. I

(Continued from page 55)

took a towel out of the bathroom and
lit it.

“She started to burn and scream so
I dragged her in the bathroom and tried
to get water on her. She collapsed and
I ran out.”

He signed the confession of the hor-
rible murder, admitting he had _tor-
tured a helpless woman to death, and
robbed her of $3. A human life for $3
and a few cigarettes! Could the boy
be sane?

Simpson showed no remorse as we
took him out to check up on his con-
fession. At the little grocery store he
re-enacted his almost perfect crime in

The murderer’s brother, mother and
sister leaving the county jail after
the trial

all its revolting details. He seemed to
enjoy the incredulous gaze of the crowd
which had gathered to watch him.

Feeling ran high in the community.
To escape possible mob violence and
attempts to lynch him, we were forced
to leave the neighborhood at once.

He took us to the beach and showed
us where to dig in order to unearth the
overcoat and the stained club he had
buried. In the garage of his home we
found a few cigars and cigarettes.

Newsboys soon were on the streets
selling extras.

“Torch Murderer Confessed!”

Simpson’s family, when first informed
of their son’s guilt, refused to believe
the, police. Neighbors who had known
him all his life were also incredulous.
He had always been a little different
from other children, they said. He had
played by himself. He had liked to
spend his time reading cheap, trashy
stories, but never had he seemed to
have the cruel streak in him which this
crime demanded.

Most vehement in her refusal to be-
lieve that Simpson “has done this ter-
rible thing’ was Anna Lervick, his
sweetheart of six months, who was
working as a maid in a home at 4260
Fulton Street.

“He couldn’t have! He was so sweet

and affectionate to me. He couldn’t
have done it!” she cried to the detec-
tives, wringing her hands and shaking
her head as if striving not to believe
the terrible news.

She was a slender Norwegian girl,
who had come to America four years
before. Hers was the “Greta Garbo”
type of beauty and her Scandinavian
accent added piquancy to her speech.

ER large sensitive eyes seemed to

say that it was not her nature to
talk as freely as she did to the detec-
tives. But conversation provided an
excellent outlet for her emotions and
she finally gained control of herself.

“You see, | am twenty-two. | was
married before,” she began in a quaver-
ing voice. “I was unhappy Her
voice broke—a tear ran down _ her
cheek.

“After that—that experience,” she
went on, “I came to live with my aunt
here in-San Francisco. Life didn’t mean
anything to me. It didn’t seem to me
that | had anything to live for. And |
was lonely—dreadfully lonely.

“Then one day after | started work-
ing as a nurse-maid, | wandered down
to the beach on an afternoon off. Boys

Superior Judge Louis H. Ward, who
sentenced the murderer to be hanged

and girls—lovers—were playing in the
sand, having such a good time, and |
felt so lonely by myself.

“T decided to try some of the booths,
to see if I couldn’t win a prize.”

Gone were the traces of sorrow from
the girl’s sweet face. She seemed liv-
ing in memories—pleasant memories.
Her eyes had a happy, far-away look
in them and her voice had lost its tragic
quality.

“There was Charlie working in a
booth. He had been to sea after he left
high school, but at that time he was
working in one of the concessions,” she
continued. .

“T won everything that day. Every-
thing from pounds of bacon to a box of
candy. Luck was with me.”

She stopped; bit her lip in an effort
to fight back her tears, as the reality

Novem!

of the
then c
“The
got to
Sudden
was fi
work |
in wha
“Tt
to Wall
ner, an
“So
have sé
we we
we hac
coffee
“Tre
most
\\ e hi
began
Ann:
“The
any tl
came f:
ning.
from
ently
Gate |
Charlie
“]
break
told h
our eng
He ple
cause |
“Ank
Was
night
killed
all his
Sud
Ile m
on the
fainter
Upo
detect)
the as
In
tained
hopett
would

In pris

seeme


November, 1931

of the present came back to her; and
then continued.

“There wasn't much business, so we
got to talking. | had such a good time.
Suddenly | looked at my watch. It
was five o’clock, and I had to be at
work by six. Two hours had gone by
in what seemed like a few minutes.

“I told Charlie | had to go. He said
to wait, that he would take me to din-
ner, and see me home, if I didn’t mind.

“So | waited. It seemed so good to
have someone like him to wait for. So
we went to a cozy little place where
we had a hamburger sandwich and some
coffee. | never tasted anything so good.

“From then on we went together
most of the time. It was wonderful.
We had such good times together. |
began to love him.”

Anna’s brow clouded.

“There was only once that we had
any trouble,” she continued. “Charlie
came for me in a nice, big car one eve-
ning. He told me he had borrowed it
from a friend. But I found out differ-
ently. While we were riding in Golden
Gate Park some policeman stopped us.
Charlie had stolen the car. .

“1 should have known enough to
break off for good with him then. |
told him we would have to break off
our engagement, but he seemed so sorry.
He pleaded so hard | forgave him be-
cause I thought I could help him.

“And to think,” she said sadly, “he
was talking about himself the other
night when he told me the person who
killed the old lady would remember it
all his life.”

Suddenly she screamed: “My God!
lle must have taken me to a show
on the three dollars.” And then she
fainted.

Upon recovering consciousness, the
detectives left her alone—alone with
the ashes of her second love affair.

In the City Prison, Simpson main-
tained his brazen. attitude. He seemed
hopeful that’ because of his youth he
would only be sentenced to serve a term
in prison. No thought of the gallows
seemed to enter his mind at. all.

The fiend killer in his San Francisco
jail cell, shortly after his arrest

The Master Detective

At his request, he was allowed to
phone from the City Prison. He called
Anna at her home. A police shorthand
expert took down the entire conversa-
tion, both questions and answers.

“Wait for me, Anna,” he begged.
“T’ll be out in twenty or thirty years.
We can be married and be so happy.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him for
he hung up with a smile.

Anna did not come to see him in the
City Prison, however, wisely deciding
to spare each the agony of a meeting
under such circumstances,

Simpson was held to answer to the
Superior Court by Munipical Judge
George W. Schonfeld.

The Superior Court trial was dra-
matic from start to finish. It was un-
derstood by court attachés of Superior
Judge Louis H. Ward, that Walker
Peddicord, attorney for Simpson, was
to enter two.pleas, not guilty and not
guilty by reason.of insanity, when the
trial opened the morning of April 13th.

Like -a bombshell, however, came
Peddicord’s calm announcement in the
packed court-room. ¢

“In behalf of my client, I wish to en-
ter a plea of guilty, and throw: my
client on the mercy of the Court,” he
said.

When the court-room was restored to
order, Judge Ward ordered a recess. :

The guilty plea meant there: would
be no jury trial: The-entire responsi-
bility rested on: the shoulders of the
Judge. Judge Ward seemed appalled
at the thought of being given the re-
sponsibility. Nevertheless although
Simpson was young in years, he was
old in criminal experience.

Suppressing his true emotions be-
neath a calm, mask-like exterior, the
Judge adjourned court in order that he
might have an opportunity to regain
his composure.

Who knows what thoughts went
through his mind during the half hour
he paced back and forth in his cham-
bers. When he returned to the court-
room, however, it was as a man who
knew. his mind and who could be
counted on to proceed with justice.

The trial went on. Assistant District
Attorney William W. Murphy had
charge of the prosecution. Step by step
he built up a substantial case against
Simpson. Stoically and impersonally
the prisoner listened to the recital of
his crime. He was unmoved when the
testimony of three alienists as to his
sanity was introduced into the court
record.

HEN his mother, Mrs. Lulu Simp-

son was called to the witness stand,
that inborn something, which exists be-
tween a mother and child, caused his
sullenness to vanish. Tears came to his
eyes.

But he sneered when on the witness
stand, in a desperate effort to save the
life of her youngest son, she told the
secret she had kept so carefully all her
married life. She was a blood relation
to her husband—his niece.

Her sacrifice, however, was in vain.
The alienists, Doctors Edward Twit-
chell, Walter F. Schaller and Leonard
Stocking, testified that Simpson was not

85

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Chicago, Ilinois


AZOR-EDGED axes bit into the
wood again and again. The door
gave way, and Battalion Chief Ed-
ward O'Neill sprang, through the
opening. Tongues of flame spurted

on all sides and licked greedily at his
face and body. The fireman stumbled
through the empty grocery store to the
hallway which led to the living quarters
in the rear. A falling timber crashed

‘across his back and knocked him to the

floor. Blinding comets exploded in his
skull. He struggled to his knees and
fought to retain consciousness.

Then, inch by inch, he crawled ahead.
She was somewhere in this raging in-
ferno. He had to find her. Thick
clouds of smoke stung his eyes, heat
blistered his skin, and his lungs sobbed

for air. Suddenly he saw her. She lay
on the bathroom floor. Her grey hair
was spread on the floor like a carpet,
and her motionless hands, like charred
claws, were stretched toward the water
faucets.

O'Neill staggered forward and smoth-
ered her flaming garments with his own
body. When he gathered her in his
arms a pungent odor rose to his nos-
trils, and he realized that her clothes
were drenched with kerosene. Her oil
heater must have blown up, he told
himself. But when he finally reached
the hall again and, through the wreaths
of smoke and flame, glimpsed the par-
lor, a wave of horror, surged up his
spine.

He turned and lurched through the

Fantastic as the circumstances of this baffling case were, the solution was even

holocaust. When he gained the front
of the building, eager hands plucked
him through the door to safety. For a
moment, before his burden was lifted
from his arms, he stood alone on the
sidewalk, enveloped in flame. Then,
slowly, like a crumbling candle, he col-
lapsed and sank to pavement in a
heap.

Blackness closed over him. He imag-~
ined himself at the bottom of a murky
sea where the water pounded against
his eardrums and, strange fish floated
languidly past his eyes. He swam up
and up for minutes that seemed years.
At last there was light. The surface
broke over his head, and he bolted into
the nightmare that was not a_night-
mare. 4t was reality.

By LEE

more surprising REYNOLDS

People stood around him. Gradually
the blurs that were their faces came into
focus. Firemen peered anxiously down
while a doctor gave him first aid. A
pretty girl stared at his blackened hands
and face. From out of nowhere a voice
said:

“The old lady’s dead.”

It hit ONeill harder than a ten-ton
truck. “Oil heater,” he gasped through
blistered lips.

“Sure, Ed, we know,” said one of his
brother firemen, “The oil heater ex-
Ploded and killed her.” .

O'Neill was slipping into the void
again, He had to talk, and talk fast.

ith one last desperate effort he framed
the words. “The heater,” he said, “it
wasn’t touched by the fire.”

T WAS eight o’clock of that same
morning of February 17. Captain of
Inspectors Charles Dullea and Homi-
cide Inspectors George Engler, Harry
Husted, and Alan McGinn, all of the
San Francisco Police Department, had
just arrived at the scene of the blaze
at 1515 48th Avenue. The red gloss of
a single remaining fire truck gleamed
dully through the fog. Curious spec-
tators knotted about the building,
and the air was filled with the sound
of people at the nearby amusement
park.

The detectives were grim. Mur-
der was usually an unpleasant busi-
ness, but this one was particularly
nasty. The victim, seventy-two-year-
old Mrs. Albina Voorhies, had never
had a chance. For, according to the
coroner’s preliminary report, the aged
storekeeper -had_ been struck re-
peatedly with a blunt instrument that
had almost split open her skull. Then,

.her clothes had been saturated with

oil and the building set on fire. Who-

‘ever killed her had literally tried to

make her a human torch.

Unfortunately, the difficult autopsy
had not been completed, so that the
exact time of death was not yet
known. But Mrs. Elizabeth Neil, the
neighbor who had reported the fire,
had noticed the flames around 7:10
a.m. This made it seem likely that
Mrs. Voorhies had been killed some
time in the early morning.

“I went to Albina’s store to make a
small purchase,” explained Mrs. Neil.
“When I found that it closed, I knew
something was wrong even before I
smelled the smoke. Mrs. Voorhies
had been in business for about four
years, and for every single day of
that time she had opened at 7:00 a.m.
sharp. She had precise habits.”

Other neighbors substantiated this
statement and added that Mrs. Voor-
hies invariably locked up nights at
8:30 p.m., then retired to her living
quarters in the rear of the building.

The big question was how the killer

erusoyetTeo SpeSuey

40 4a

Q°s

Sere

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE MAGAZINE fot 9 3

FEBRUARY, 199. HY

"38
4


86

normal, but that his abnormality was
not that of an insane person, but of a
criminal. Therefore he should be treated
as a criminal.

O* Friday afternoon, the second day,
final arguments were finished.
Sentence was to be passed Monday.
Attorneys, clerks and newspapermen
who had been occupied with the murder
trial, were part of the crowds that
streamed from San Francisco to enjoy
the week-end. Some went to the Tan-
foran races, some to the beaches, some
to the mountains. There was a feeling
of festivity in the air. It was ideal,
warm, Spring weather.
And while others were taking relaxa-
tion over the week-end, Judge Ward

The Master Detective

pored over the records of the case. All
Saturday and Sunday, far into the
night, he studied the testimony and
weighed the mass of evidence in the
case. He alone had the responsibility of
sentencing the eighteen-year-old boy.

Monday morning came. Simpson
was brought into the court-room for
sentence. A deathly stillness came over
the court as Judge Ward took his place
at the bench.

Floating up from historic Portsmouth
Square, the soft laughter of playing
children was the only sound to break
the silence.

Calmly, Simpson and his attorney
stood up before the Court. The Judge
began to read. For nine minutes he
read. He concluded with “. ... and

July tenth you are sentenced to be
hanged by the neck until dead. May
God have mercy on your soul!”

A woman’s scream pierced the still-
ness of the court-room. It was Simp-
son’s mother as she fainted.

The doors of the City Prison and the
County Jail closed behind Simpson,
shutting from him his past life, his
family, and his sweetheart.

He passed through the door with the
gilded horseshoe above it—the en-
trance to San Quentin. And on July
17th, following a stay of one week,
Charles Simpson left his cell, walked
through the door of the execution
chamber and up the famous thirteen
steps to where the rope and eternity
awaited him.

The Mysterious Murder of Ernest Midwinter

therefore, that the press published re-
ports of the finding of the billy, and a
picture and description of it appeared in
the various papers throughout Alberta.

It brought results immediately. Glen
McMasters, a young garage-man in
Edmonton, about 200 miles north of
Calgary, recognized it.

Afraid of being held up while on
duty as a night watchman, he had
fashioned the weapon to use for self-
protection. Later, getting a new job,
he had had no further use for it.

“Tl was moving out of the Gorman
Block,” he told Colonel Bryan. “While
packing [ turned everything out of the
dresser drawers in my bedroom and
happened to toss the billy onto the bed.
| said to some friends, ‘Well, | won't
need this any more.’

“Allen, a taxi-driver pal of mine
picked it up, and the fellow who
was with him took it out of his
hand and looked it over. ‘You cer-
tainly could hit a fellow a mean clout
with this!’ he said. ‘It will come in
handy in my business.’ ”’

“He kept it?”

*“Viag;t"

“When did this happen?”

“August the twelfth. when I moved.”

“Four days before the murder!—
Who was the other fellow?” Colonel
Bryan inquired hopefully.

McMasters shook his head.

“1 don’t know. He was a slim fel-
low, just average height.”

“They left together?”

“Yes, they said they were going back
to Calgary on a freight.”

From McMasters. Colonel Bryan as-
certained that Allen had driven a taxi
for Sidney Castle during Fair Week in
Regina and Saskatoon. Harvey got in
touch with Castle. From him he
learned that Allen had a friend called
Mickey, whose last name he didn’t
know.

Detective Harvey went to Saskatoon.
Chief Donald of the Municipal Police
there, summoned Inspector Lavur and
Detective Sissons of the detective
squad when Harvey requested particu-
lars of a man named Mickey who had
served a term for a stick-up in Saska-
toon.

(Continued from page 33)

Detective Sissons knew a man named
Mickey!

“Don’t you remember, Inspector, the
fellow we put out of the Daylight
Rooms?”

“Radko,” Inspector Lavur © said.
“Mike Radko. Yes, that must be the
fellow. Just out of Prince Albert
Penitentiary, July nineteenth. He stuck
up a milk wagon driver, taking his
pouch, records and all. When he was
arrested with a lot of other suspects,
he obligingly had a pencil stub con-
cealed on his person which the milk-
man swore to as his. He got three
years for it.”

DETECTIVE Russell in Edmonton,

asked McMasters to identify Rad-
ko, whose picture was in the Saskatoon
police records,

Unhesitatingly the young garage-man
singled out Radko.

“That’s him.”

Detective Harvey now had two
names on the wanted list—Albert Allen
and Mike Radko.

While still in Saskatoon, he got a
tip-off that Allen and Radko were sup-
posed to have participated in a Shauna-
von store break-in, on the night of
August 3rd.

“Radko wanted me to drive him and
Allen to Calgary,” his informant told
him. “He said he’d give me five hun-
dred dollars for the trip—he and Allen
to ‘take’ the small towns all along, and
me to do nothing but drive.”

LEARNING there had been four men

in the robbery, Detective Harvey
decided that if he solved the Shauna-
von break-in, he would undoubtedly
discover more of the Midwinter murder.
After a multitude of questions ‘and
false leads had been attended to, he
decided that the men he wanted were
Allen, Radko, a man named Slim and
Maurice Lavoie.

From the information he had, Harvey
decided Slim would be the easiest man
to locate and straightway instituted a
search for him. Traced to Vancouver,
Slim had vanished to an unknown
destination.

Harvey expected him to return soon

to Moose Jaw, however, where he
seemed well acquainted with certain
ladies of the town. Nor was the detec-
tive disappointed. Slim soon returned
to his old haunts—and was promptly
arrested.

Detective Harvey gave him no im-
mediate knowledge as to why he was
arrested. Slim, troubled, informed him
that if he’d picked him up for the
Shaunavon affair, he’d made a mistake
as he had an air-tight alibi.

“Oh, is isn’t that so much,” Harvey
returned enigmatically. “You see, four
men cleaned the store, and by a queer
coincidence four men also took Mid-
winter for a ride two weeks later.”

‘Slim; who had been cocky and stub-
born from the moment of arrest, opened
his es wide.

“Youve got me all wrong in this,”
he protested. “I—say, you see, it was
like this.”

He admitted participation in the
ni eeaehi~ robbery without further
ado. .

“Allen and Radko stole the stuff while
Maurice and I stayed in the car. We
helped them sell what they stole,” he
confessed. “Mike said in Lethbridge,
that he thought the police were giving
him the once over, so Maurice and |
ditched him. We met again in Kimber-
ley and Mickey said he’d get me for
leaving them. I told him to go to hell.
That was August sixth. The night of
the Midwinter murder I was ill in bed.
No, I never saw them again. I never
saw either Mike or Allen with a gun,
but Mike told me he was a gunman.”

HARVEY, who had at first thought all

four men were the murderers, was
not dissatisfied when he found that Slim
and Lavoie could not possibly have
been present at the killing, for he had

established Mike Radko’s actions from:

the day he terminated his three-year
term on July 19th, until August 6th,
about a week before the murder.

Of the opinion that Allen’s name
was the best known in the City, Harvey,
upon his return to Calgary, began a
discreet canvass of the taxi establish-
ments and cheap hotels for him. Harry
Amies, of the Princess Rooms, identi-


e Louis was out seek-

‘ary 17 that Franchini
ompanied by Sgt. John
to examine minutely
: four-door sedan.
dition, it was apparent
le had been well cared
y was spotless and the
ll brushed. The trunk
le car was kept as me-
nterior. A coat of red-
-d the metal sides from
tire was inflated and
‘ubber mat covered the
compartment. Kvilesz
d noticed that the mat
\ painted with red lead.
od care of ‘this car,”
mat looks nearly new.”
Sullivan exchanged
it is new,” Sullivan
t was put down after

loodstains?” Franchini

1 replied. “This red-lead
vainted over a lot more

ng the bolt which held
lace, discovered a dis-
had not béen covered

blood,” he announced.

a better place either.
the bolt and run it
-herwise, we'd have had
e car itself.”
: bolt by Kvilesz for
lice laboratory, Detec-
Franchini went back
a talk with Louis Ar-
ey could not be certain
eturned from the lab,
son to suspect that the
Arrighi had been se-
< of her husband’s car.

ant, then, to know the
1 the trunk of the auto-

vainted. The detectives ©

\rrighi and questioned

self,” he said. “Some-

r, I think, Anyway, it
my job. There was

n those days.”

buy the mat?” Fran-

rrighi answered.

gave them the name
store where he had

a receipt?” Sullivan _

is head. ‘““‘Who bothers
said. “I give the man

ind I take out the mat.
for a receipt.”

‘d his lower lip specu-
emember the man you

ne asked.

ed. “Sure,” he said. “A ©

to Franchini. “See you
‘ll be waiting for you

hini left the house on.

to supply store which
oned.

t alone with the hus-
woman.

“T want you to fix the
disappearance in your
hen I want you to tell

u did for the twenty- a
after you woke up on |

oer = ee

eutere

Se ee ee

ea:

\
Arrighi was silent for a moment, as if

composing his thoughts. He started to

speak, and, prompted by Sullivan’s
pointed questions, sketched his activities
on the day of his wife’s disappearance.

He had reached, in his account, his
efforts to prepare the baby’s supper on
that evening, when Franchini returned
from the auto supply store.

“How did you make out?” Sullivan
asked.

“Better take him down to headquar-
ters,” Franchini replied. “The red-headed
clerk didn’t remember that particu-
lar sale, but he proved to me’ that his first
day on the job in the North Bergen
branch was Monday, October 24. So,
Louis must have bought that mat at least
four days after his wife was murdered!”

Resuming Arrighi’s interrogation at
North Bergen Police Headquarters, the

detectives confronted the Suspect with”

the accumulated evidence against him.

“We know that your wifeswas killed .

at home early in the morning of October
21,” Sullivan pointed out to the suspect.
“We know that the body was put into the
trunk compartment of your car. You
yourself told us that you're the only per-
son who has keys to that car.”

He picked up the report which had been
rushed up from the police lab. “The analy-
sis of stains in that trunk compartment
reveals them as human blodd, type O.”

Sullivan paused dramaticaJly. His ‘eyes
bored into Arfighi’s. ,

“We compared these blood stains with

specimens of your wife's blood, Louie. *

They are identical.” “

For a long moment Arrighi said. noth-
ing. His mouth trembled nervously.
Finally he spoke, and began to pour forth

his story. Had he stopped to realize that’

the North Bergen police had not yet-lo-
wf

d

\

cated his wife’s body and that there were
no specimens of her blood with which to
compare the stains found'‘in his car, it is
possible that he would not have spoken
out at this time. But for Chief Sullivan’s
canny trick, Arrighi might not havé
talked. ‘ .

The prisoner related that he had struck
his wife with a baseball bat at about 8:30
a.m. the morning of October 21 upon his
return from a fruitless quest for employ-
ment. He asserted that after a bitter
argument with his wife, she pursued him
through the house armed with a carving
knife. He asserted that he struck her in
self-defense.

Wrapping the body in two burlap po-
tato sacks, his statement as released by
the police went on, he.secreted it in the

trunk of his car. After his elder son had’

left for school, Arrighi dressed his 4-year-
old son Roy and drove with him some
ninety miles to the chicken farm of rela-
tives near Asbury, N. J. There, while pre-
tending to take a walk, Arrighi dug a
shallow grave with a shovel and buried

» his wife. ‘ ‘
On January 18, Arrighi conducted a

group of officials to the spot where his
-wife’s body was interred. The, police ex-
humed the partially decomposed ‘corpse
which was then brought back to North
Bergen, where an atitopsy confirmed the
cause of death.

Arrighi was arraigned in North Bergen
Municipal Court on January 19, and
charged with the slaying of his wife. As
this account of the police investigation
is prepared for publication, Louis Arrighi
awaits the trial that will determine his

‘ innocence or guilt.

(The name Felix Scovone is fictitious to protect .

the identity of a person innocently involved in the
investigation.-—The Editor.)

I Trailed the’.

Trigger Man

[Continued from page’ 19]

eae |
ward. When Pappas resisted, the robber
beat him on the head with a tire iron and
escaped. : ; :

Deputy Sheriff Richard Condon, the
officer in charge of the sheriff's sub-
station at Hayward, obtained the assail-
ant’s description from the victim and two
young women witnesses. A short time
later he took Sexton into custody. The
tall youth strongly denied any guilt, even
after Pappas had picked him out of a
police lineup.

Condon immediately notified Chief
Lamoureux of the arrest, pointing out
that Sexton’s description approximated
the one Harames had given of his slayer.

Accompanied by Spike Rosaaen, I went
to the county jail in Oakland, where
Sexton was being held on a charge of
assault with a deadly weapon. Spike and
I interrogated the prisoner concerning
the gas station holdup, which he denied,
and gradually we led up to the question
of his whereabouts on the night of Sep-
tember 1 and the morning of September
2, the date of the Harames murder.

We got little out of Sexton, but he
did concede that he had once owned
several guns, including a_ .32-caliber
Belgian automatic. He said, however,
that he had spent the first week of Sep-
tember in Salinas, 100 miles south of

Oakland, and during that time had sold.

the automatic to a card-game operator
there. ’
' He gave a complete description of the
“man who he asserted had bought his gun,
and gave the general location of the card
game.
Knowing that, if his alibi stood up, Sex-

«ton was innocent of the murder, we asked

the Salinas police to try to find thé buyer
of the pistol. Chief George C. Weight
of Salinas soon reported that no trace
ot the man could be found. We, of course,
realized that if the Salinas gambler had
been operating, a “floating” card game,
Sexton’s story could still be true.

Further questioning by Condon. and
others failed to draw anything more from
Sexton that might help us prove or dis-
credit his alibi. He pleaded not guilty
to the assault charge and was held for
trial in Superior Court.

The first hint of a break in our hunt
for the Harames trigger man came the
following month, on Monday, December

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shell, officers found
ched ahead through
»w driveway at left.

‘d the bloodstained
e right side of his

uringly, “we'll get

he man had given
at he owned a fruit
eet in nearby Oak-
Capitola drove up

to Fairmont Hos-
et had entered the
t through his body
3 In a critical con-

iis life, Macho was
'. He gave an in-

ving around 2:30
:. He got out and
ruck and put it in
ht side was jerked
ick ’em up!”

* the clutch pedal.
lit fired. Harames
truck. As he lay
running footsteps,
mobile sped away.
ered faintly, —~
of the robber, but

med rather tall,
ing a tan shirt

and khaki trousers, and he thought the man’s hair was
dark.

A paper bag containing $100 in cash and a check for
$74 had been found in the victim’s coat pocket. Macho
learned that the money was the day’s store receipts. —

“Do you always bring your money home with you ?” ‘the
officer queried.

“Yes, every night,” was the faint reply.

Unable to. learn anything more-from the barely con-
scious man, whose age was later found to be 67, Macho
broke off the questioning, as doctors hurriedly prepared
to administer a blood transfusion.

Back at the scene of the shooting, meanwhile, Ashman
and his partner were searching the area surrounding. the
truck. In the driveway, at the spot where the wounded
man had lain, they found a copper-jacketed bullet of ap-
proximately .32 caliber. It evidently had lodged in the
victim’s clothing and fallen to the ground when he was
being placed on the stretcher.

No additional clues were found outside the truck, but
in the molding beneath the windshield, they discovered
a discharged, .32-caliber cartridge shell. Ejector marks
showed that it had been fired from an automatic pistol.

The truck was in low gear and the ignition switch was
turned on. Evidently the truck had rolled ahead a few feet
through the driveway gate after Harames inadvertently
released the clutch pedal. There were no bullet holes in
the truck.

Neighbors were questioned. Several beside DuPuis had
heard a single shot, but no one had seen the bandit or
the getaway car. Although a confederate might have been
waiting in the automobile, there was nothing to indicate
that the trigger man had not been a lone wolf.

Harames was fighting a losing battle for his life when
I heard of the crime, a few hours later. I discussed the
case with Chief of Police A. J. Lamoureux, who told ‘me
what the investigating officers had found out.

“Tm afraid that if Harames dies,’ Chief Lamoureux
said, “our chances of identifying the killer won't be too
good. We have only a sketchy description of the fellow

to go on, plus the bullet and cartridge casing.”

“Well,” I remarked, “the
bandit apparently knew that
Harames habitually took home
the money from his store. So he

Harames.”

doubtfully. “The trouble is that
too many people knew he did.
that,” he explained. “His friends
say it has long been common
knowledge that he didn’t trust
banks, so the robber could have
picked up that information from
almost anyone even slightly ac-
quainted with Harames.”

The chief went on to say that
the victim’s description of his
assailant had been sent out by
radio and teletype.

“It's too bad nobody saw his
car,” he said. “Of course, there’s -
always the possibility that the
gun will be found on someone
picked up on suspicion. In that
case, we might be able to link
him with the crime by ballistics
tests. The bullet and shell are
the only material evidence we
have so far. I only hope that the
gun isn’t already lying at the
bottom of San Francisco Bay.”

“Ves,” I agreed fervently,
“and let’s hope the doctors can.

é The leather jacketed “Don” supports the girl’s”
may be someone fairly close to story about the tall youth, inset, when quizzed by
. Spike Rosaaen (standing), Author Paulsen and.

Lamoureux shook his head Chief of Police A. J. Lamoureux, at the far. right.

pull the victim through.” But Harry Harames was doomed.

‘In spite of everything that was done for him, he died late

that night,:some twenty-four hours after the shooting.
During the days that followed, the case remained a baf-
fling mystery. —
San Leandro is a:bustling suburban community of some-
what more than 27,000 population. It lies just east of
metropolitan Oakland and west of the town of Hayward.

The police of those cities as well as other neighboring .
- municipalities were cooperating closely with us, and so

was the Alameda County sheriff’s office.

Each time a suspicious character was picked up for
questioning in any crime, efforts were made to find out
whether he knew anything about the holdup murder. But
no lead was uncovered in this manner.

Harames was a native of Greece, and his funeral was
conducted under the auspices of the Greek Orthodox Church
in Oakland. He was survived by his cousin, Peter Harames,
who could give us no helpful information relating to the
slaying. — :

Capt. Steve Lagomarsino and Officer Whitney (Spike) |

Rosaaen attended the funeral services in plain clothes, but

observed nothing with any bearing on the trigger man

we sought.

Meanwhile, through the cartridge shell and death slug,
the murder gun was identified as a .32-caliber automatic
of foreign make, probably Belgian. Assistant Criminolo-
gist Patrick Fuller of the Oakland police assured us that
the bullet was in perfect condition for identification pur-

poses.: Weeks passed, however, and no one possessing a .

32-caliber Belgian automatic was ever picked up.

Among the scores of possible suspects fitting the gen-
eral description of the killer that we questioned was a 22-
year-old Hayward-youth named Harold E. Sexton. Though
he had been picked up several times by police in connection
with various crimes, Sexton had never been convicted of a
serious crime.

On-November 10, more than two months after Harames
was slain, a tall young bandit attempted to rob Gust Pap-
pas, 55, in his service station on 165th Avenue, near Hay-

[Continued on page 63]


n, she notified Mrs. Gron-
te.
dination living and dining
n order, except for a round
rs. Harrington’s breakfast.
in front of an easy chair,
ly had fallen, lay a broken
lf grapefruit so shrivelled
le refrigerator in the same
ne.
t came upon much greater
pen, as did a closet door.
scattered about the floor.
single pillow showing an
had once rested a single

s, the manager met cold
om door. A naked electric
orror in the tiny cubicle.
the tile floor, clad only
, long hose and a black
| as were the floor, the
to a height of some five

telephone summons, Pa-
eventeenth Precinct was
Dr. Longobardi arrived
1ospital ambulance.
ne dead—dead for some
was soon to be con-
Charles Norris, then
, Who held that death
it was soon determined
ard by Mrs. Holton on

had been caused by re-
me weapon, such as a
tanding when she was
would not have stained
ed where she fell and
ipt at criminal assault.”

s obtained by Inspector
Henry Roge and Fred
ho arrived at the scene
larm. Yet aside from
ley rounded up every
1g, could find no eye-
violence in the apart-

rtain men visitors in
‘ific force of the blows
in,
e pieces of the broken
-mmeline’s last break-
mall table. When he
articles on the table
) that piece of furni-
+ ition to an easy chair
table. .
le eyes of Detective
Iden interest in the
t debris,” he said, “I
e stands is wrinkled
s. Also the table has
‘fully, away from its

inced sharply at the
it does that signify

ut Winkelman ex-
ever he is, began
She tried to fend

wccetae wn. gassed CA-(Alameda) March 16, 1951

(STARTLING DETECTIVE, July, 1950)

BY LIEUT. ANDREW N. POULSEN

of the San Leandro, Cal., police
as told to

FRANK WARD

bs 4 Ly id
at the San Leandro, Cal., police
headquarters, early F riday muri

ing, September 2, 1949, when he receiver a tele
phone call from aman who blurted out some g
about a shooting. ; . bk ecthee
“It woke me out of a sound sleep, ee Patel
: . » oper bodeee A
explained, “and | thought it was the back ring
of an automobile, Then L heard running foot:
steps, and. immediately afterward a cat
away fast.” : ee echt.
While the man was speaking, Kirk grabhe i up
a pencil. . . Face
CAV hatt’s your name,” he asked, “and where are
. . "oe os
you calling from? . . a “ti ;
~ The caller identified himself as Charles Me
Puis and said he was phoning from his home,
Estabrook Street. Kirk told him to await the ar-
rival of a patrol car.

("a the FRANK KIRK was on duty

After noting down the time as 2:50 a.m.) he

" d Harry Harames
“I didn’t see the car,” the A eee argent Guestions
whispered faintly in answer to Officer Macho’s urg


ee

re ete mame

18

MAIN
Fruit Market >|

radioed Sgt. Jack T. Ashman and Officer Stewart Moll,
who he knew were cruising in the Estabrook Street vicinity.
Minutes’ later, Ashman and Moll drew up in front of
the DuPuis residence. DuPuis came toward them and
pointed down the street.
“I think the shot: came from that direction,” he said.
The two officers drove along the deserted street to the
next block, where they found a ‘Ford panel delivery truck
inside the open gates-of the driveway at 53 Estabrook
Street. Its headlights were on and both doors were open.
Behind the truck, on the left side of the driveway, 'a
man lay stretched on his back. Ashman jumped out ‘and
ran over to him and was relieved to see that he was alive.
“Radio for an ambulance,’ Ashman called back to his
partner. Then he bent down and asked the elderly man
what had happened. ie! A
Stifling a groan, he gasped out: “A man tried to hold
me up—shot me... .”

‘lil Agee i ary

Sem maT

Except for the one exploded cartridge shell, officers found
no clues outside the truck which had lurched ahead through
the just opened gate and into the narrow driveway at left.

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“No, only a glimpse—too dark.”

Ashman: knelt beside him and opened the bloodstained
shirt revealing a gunshot wound in the right side of his
chest. R

“Don’t worry,” the officer said reassuringly, “we’ll get
you to the hospital in no time.”

Two or three minutes later, after the man had given
his name as. Harry Harames and said that he owned a fruit
and grocery store at 9419 East 14th Street in nearby Oak-
land, Officers Wayne Macho and Selo Capitola drove up
in the police ambulance,

The wounded storekeeper was rushed to Fairmont Hos-
pital, where it was found that the bullet had entered the
right side of his chest, passed completely through his body
yp emerged from the left side. He ‘was in a critical con-

ition.
' While every effort was made to save his life, Macho was
permitted to question the victim briefly. He gave an in-
coherent account of the shooting.

He had worked late at his store, leaving around 2:30
and driving home in his delivery truck..He got out and
opened the gates, then returned to the truck and put it in
gear. At that instant, the door on the right side was jerked
open and a harsh voice commanded, “Stick ’em up!”

Startled, Harames let his foot slip off the clutch pedal.
The truck lurched forward, and the bandit fired. Harames
fell out on the left side of the moving truck. As he lay -
there in the driveway, he was aware of running footsteps,

followed by the roar of a motor as an automobile sped away.

“I didn’t see the car,” Harames whispered faintly.

Macho tried to obtain a description of the robber, but
Harames could tell him only that he seemed rather tall,
slender and fairly young, that he was wearing a tan shirt

and khaki trc
dark.

A paper bag co
$74 had been fou
learned that the m

“Do you always
officer queried.

“Yes, every mg

Unable to lear
scious man, whos
broke off the que
to administer a bl:

Back at the sce
and his partner w
truck. In the dri
man had lain, the
proximately .32
victim's clothing
being placed on |

No additional
in the molding |
a discharged, .3.

showed that it h
The truck was
turned on. Evide
through the driy
released the clut
the truck.
Neighbors we:
heard a single s
the getaway car
waiting in the a
that the trigger
Harames was

I heard of the «

case with Chief

what the invest:

“I’m afraid t
said, “our chan
good. We have

to go on, plus t

“Well,” I
bandit apy

Harames f

the money

may be someon

Harames.”

Lamoureux
doubtfully. “Th
too many peop
that,” he explau
say it has lon
knowledge that

banks, so the r

picked up that 1

almost anyone

quainted with I

The chief we

the victim’s d:

assailant had |

radio and telet:

“It's too bac
car,” he said."
always the po

gun will be f

picked up on

case, we mig]
him with the
tests. The bul
the only mat«
have so far. |
gun isn’t alré
bottom of San
Ves,” I
“and let’s hoy


A

= .

ee ee 4

CALLING
alk
READERS!

LOUIS R. SHAVER. Age, 50; height,
5 feet, 5 inches; weight, 154; hair,
brown; eyes, blue and slightly crossed ;
one eyelid droops; right eye appears
“cockeyed ;”’ complexion, medium ruddy ;
hair, graying at edges. Wanted for mur-
der of his wife, Lillian, in Oakland,
Calif., Sept. 12, 1934. Occupation, cook.
Has Jesus tattooed on chest, girl on right
forearm, butterfly and name Lillian on
left arm. Fingerprint classification :

25 .W. fil) ..%6 = Re: 25

26 U 100 20 28

If apprehended, hold and notify Bodie
A. Wallman, Chief of Police, Oakland,
Calif., who holds felony warrant.

“ DARING

Watch for these fugitives! Study these photos, memorize
the descriptions and help trap these law violators.

In this department DARING DETECTIVE offers its co-
operation to law enforcement officers everywhere in
the apprehension of notorious enemies of society. 7o.
lice, sheriffs and other agencies of the Law are urged
to use this service to give wide publicity to photos and
descriptions of wanted men and women.

Nad
BN
he i,

me
phi gee aa Te rx...
SARTRE a, Mag

aces re,
(ein each SI pin,

MRS. STEVE FRENO, alias Josephine
Freno, Alice Gordon, Alice Perry,
Marion Anderson, Dorothy Jackson, etc.
Age, 30; height, 5 feet 6% inches;
weight, 120; hair, light chestnut; eyes,
blue; complexion, medium; teeth, five
upper left and four lower right missing ;
birthmark in shape of gun on back; occu-
pation, waitress. Is wanted as parole
violator from Leeds, Mo., reformatory.
Fingerprint classification :

18 25 W I Ref: 27

5 R IO 11 5
If apprehended, notify J. Edgar Hoover,
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Wash-

ington, D. C., or nearest office of the
Bureau.

ALVIN KARPIS, alias A. Carter, Ray
mond Hadley, George Haller, Earl Pee!

George Dunn, Ray Hunter. Age, 26

height, 5 feet 934 inches; weight, 13:

pounds; build, slender; hair, brown

eyes, blue; complexion, fair; has one
inch scar on lower knuckle of left inde:

finger. Karpis, a paroled convict, 1

wanted in connection with the kidnapin;

of Edward G. Bremer at St. Paul, Minn
on January 17, 1934. Fingerprint class’
cation:
13 1 Rr 5
1 U ?

If apprehended, notify J. Edgar Hoove:
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Was!
ington, D. C., or nearest office of t!
Bureau.

De THOTIVE — MctIefotez, JIBS DARIN

on his person and walked into the living
room. Drake was talking to Rudolph.

“I’m almost positive something’s hap-
pened to my aunt and uncle. They’re not
the kind to stay away like this, Besides,
it isn’t like them to leave me without
money. I haven’t a cent.”

“No? Well how about this?” Condaffer
snapped, He held out the money he had
taken from Drake’s suit. “And what about
this checking account in your uncle’s
name? Didn’t you open that account?”

“Yes, I did,” Drake said promptly. “I
should have told you that but it slipped
my mind, But the money is really mine;
it was left me by my grandfather. I had
to have it and I couldn’t get it unless I
used Uncle Henry’s name. If my uncle
were here he would tell you himself that
it was all right for me to do it.”

“Who owns that car in the garage?”

“Tt’s mine.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Uncle Henry gave it to me last week.”

“Just the same, young fellow, I think
we'd better take a ride over to the bank.”

Drake protested. He had to be back at
the probation office at 11:30, he said. He
then admitted that he had just come from
court where he had been granted three

years’ probation—that he had to return to
receive instructions from the probation
officer and was anxious to keep his word
to the letter.

“Never mind that. We'll fix it up with
the probation officer.”

What came to light at the bank was as
startling to bank officials as it was to the
detectives. Nellie Steinheuer had appeared
there in company with her nephew on
September 18 and had made arrange-
ments for the transfer of her savings
account from Long Beach. She had signed
a temporary signature card, taking a gen-
eral signature card home with her to be
signed by both her husband and herself.

On September 21 a check for $273.95
had come through the bank, issued to J.
K. Woods, a used car dealer. It was
signed “Henry Steinheuer.” As it had
been improperly issued against a savings
account, Woods was notified that it was
not negotiable. The car dealer immedi-
ately got in touch with Drake, who, in
company with Conrad Ruskauff, sales
manager for the automobile company,
had appeared at the bank the following
Tuesday, representing himself as Henry
Steinheuer. After having withdrawn the
cash to pay for the automobile, he had,

Magazine Proves Killer's Nemesis

48

In March, 1935, Startling Detective Ad-
ventures, companion magazine of DAR-
ING DETECTIVE, published a story of
the murder of Lillian Shaver, Oakland,
Calif., fortune teller, with photos and de-
scription of her fugitive husband, Louis.
Pursued all over the Northwest by the
haunting fear that the magazine article
would trap him, Shaver finally was ar-
rested in Seattle. Returned to Oakland
and shown a copy of the story in SDA
he exclaimed: “That’s it! That’s the mag-
azine that caught me!” He is pictured
as he awaited trial.

on the same day, opened a checking ac-
count, The clerk, not clearly understand-
ing the relationship, had believed Drake
to be Nellie Steinheuer’s son.

Pressed further as to this transaction,
Drake maintained that while legally his
action might be reprehensible, he had
done nothing wrong from a moral stand-
point.

Check Car Purchase

PUZZLED by the boy’s apparent sin-
cerity, the officers took him to the J.
K. Woods Company. There they heard
an amazing story. Calling the detectives
aside, Conrad Ruskauff told them, in sub-
stance, the following:

“Last Saturday, Drake, representing
himself as Henry Steinheuer, purchased
a Ford roadster, paying for it with a check.
After discovering that the bank would not
honor it, he apologized for his careless-
ness, saying that he had forgotten to sign
his savings signature card and transfer
part of the money to a checking account.
He said that if I would go with him he
would get the required amount. I believe
this was on Tuesday, the 24th. We drove
to his home. He showed me the joint sig-
nature card and signed the name Henry
Steinheuer in my presence. Explaining
that he held the account jointly with his
mother, he went inside to have her sign
on the second line. I waited in the car
just outside the open door. He disap-
peared from view but I overheard what
seemed to be a very pleasant conversa-
tion—no distinct words but only the
voices, presumably those of a man and a
woman, In a few minutes he returned
with Nellie Steinheuer’s signature. We
then went to the bank where he with-
drew $273.95 and paid me for the Ford.”

The two officers looked at each other
in blank astonishment. What was the
answer to this baffling riddle? Did Drake
have an accomplice? Or—on Tuesday—
the very day after Brittain had reported
the Steinheuers missing, was Nellie Stein-
heuer actually at home?

Keeping their own counsel, the de-
tectives took Drake back to their car and
set out for Exposition Park where, in the
quiet of a tree-shaded lane they could
question the lad without interruptions.

By this time, Condaffer and Rudolph
were positive that somewhere in this
tangled mystery they would uncover foul
play. But Drake himself was a problem.
If he were guilty of a crime, nothing in
his open countenance and ready answers
betrayed it. He was brilliant and clever,
they knew. They must meet subtlety with
subtlety. Finally, worn out by fruitless,
indirect methods, they resorted to blunt,
bombarding inquiry. But two hours of
steady hammering got them nowhere. He
denied that a woman had been in the
house with him on Tuesday yet refused
any explanation of the feminine voice

heard by Ruskauff. The detectives were -

forced to the conclusion that Drake him-
self had cleverly impersonated his aunt
in order to deceive Ruskauff.

Questioned concerning his movements
over the past few days, he said he had
visited his sweetheart at Long Beach on
Thursday night. He had taken her to a
show in Los Angeles after which he took
her home and returned to the city, Friday
and Friday night he had spent at Long
Beach. Saturday he had come to Los
Angeles to see Mr. Brittain and had
stayed in town over night, returning to
Long Beach the next day. He had also
gone back to see the girl on Monday and
Tuesday.

DARING

. e ae

Se
ress
and
Drat
Hay
in tt

By
over
drav
theo:
both
the
was
thou
his
poss
wary
had
yain
seen


—
=
‘

3
o

one

half
; of

the
4d to

and |

_DE-

3, is- i
into

t se-
the

irted
mur-
lling

> was

And
story
“men,
1 lost
wife’s

t and
as all
than
ad of
reling
p be-
wind
pines
shoul-

der although I knew there wasn't any-
body there.

Ll tried to calm my panicky nerves. I
tried to tell myself there wasn’t anything
to be scared of. Nobody else in the camp
had seen the magazine. I had the only
copy. I was safe. I repeated that over
and over. I was safe, safe, safe!

But didn’t work. I knew in my heart
that the story in STARTLING DETECTIVE
ApvENTURES was going to hound me into
jail, I hada hunch it wouldn’t ever let
me rest again.

I jumped up. With the sharp end of a
tree limb I dug a hole in the ground and
buried the magazine. I hid the spot with
grass and leaves and then rolled a boul-

- der over it. Then I ran back to the camp:

I didn’t wait around. I got my bundle
and skipped out in a hurry. That was no
spot for me. I’d had too close a call to
feel safe there. The thought of what
would have happened if someone else had
gotten that magazine first made me
shiver.

I got out on the highway and headed
west, hitch-hiking, walking, riding trains
—anything to keep on the move. I wanted
to get plenty of distance between me and
Laurel, Wyo.

And I did plenty of traveling. That
story in the magazine haunted me. Every-
where I looked I thought I could see a
magazine with my picture init. I dreamed
about it at night and woke up yelling.
couldn’t see how people I met failed to

criminals once said: “If a man ever de-
serves to go to prison for more than six
months he should be sent for twenty-
five years which is his lifetime. Nothing
they do to you after six months can hurt
you either mentally or physically. You
just get hardened to it.”

Statements like this lead us to believe
that our prisons are increasing crime in-
stead of preventing or reducing it.

Governments have failed thus far to
provide the necessary bridge that leads
paroled convicts from their existence be-
hind prison walls into some proper niche
in community life. Giving a prisoner a
ten dollar bill, a suit of clothes and a
threatening farewell isn’t all that society
owes to one who has violated the law
and has suffered the punishment pro-
vided by law, for the simple reason that, in
all probability, he will cost society more
in the end than if he were to be properly
assisted in his work of rehabilitation at
the right time. This may involve a new
program and additional cost when the
prisoner first leaves the prison but I be-
lieve, in the long run, it will serve society
much better, will cost less and will be a
greater deterrent to crime.

We cannot do away with prisons. They
will always be necessary for those whose
minds are warped, for whom hope is lost.
But I do not approve of the cry for ven-
geance against those who, by circum-
stances or environment, overstep the
bounds of propriety and who, with direc-
tion, may be returned to society for fruit-
ful and useful occupation through a mod-
ern rehabilitation service.

TuHank YO

pee hated ose Sea by Nice, 0 Se " Peete Tie:
SI5e RTE RE LORE
ei give ell caf Dd vive aan’ THK Uae id

RE

recognize me.. I lived through a torment
of fear those days.

“Seattle saw me for a few days. So did
Spokane. Then back to Seattle, where
I hid out for a few days in a hotel on
Second street.’ From there I moved out
to a federal transient camp. But I was
afraid—afraid somebody would bring out
a bundle of magazines to the camp and
I'd be recognized. I skipped out of the
camp in twenty-four hours. Staying there
one night made me a nervous wreck.

I started knocking at back doors, look- °

ing for work. I did anything that’d get
me a little money and something to eat.
I worked for two different families for
a little while.

Then I got on at the Olympic Commis-
sary and worked there seventeen days,
using the name of John Howard. But the
longer I stayed the more nervous I got.
Sooner or later somebody would see the
magazine and spot me. I couldn’t stay
there too long.

Decides To Flee Again

i bade Back to Seattle, this time,
where it was even worse, I was afraid
to stay there. I decided to run away again.
Down to the wildcat stage I went and
bought a ticket for Denver, Colo., with
the money I’d earned, I didn’t know
where else to go. That story in the maga-
zine made every place unsafe. IfI stayed
in town somebody’d spot me.

. Back in Denver I went to the hotel on
Nineteenth street again. I'd forgotten
what name I’d registered under the first
time. I was nervous, and signed the
name of John Howard. When I remem-
bered, in my room, I got right out of
there and went over to another hotel.

Hiding most of the time in my hotel
room I spent Christmas of 1935 and New
Year’s of 1936 in Denver. All the time I
had the feeling that a thousand eyes
were looking at me no matter where I
went or hid.

Right after New Year's I got out. I
kept moving, to Laramie, Wyo. Then to
Granger. Even up to Boise, Idaho. I
couldn’t light. I didn’t dare. There were
newsstands wherever I went.

I headed west again. Then to Van-
couver, B.C. I didn’t like it there. Seattle
drew me like a magnet. I went back.

I landed in Seattle about the end of
January, 1936. I went out to a transient
camp. I figured it’d be safer than town,
even though it was dangerous for me to
stay long anywhere. But the fight was
gone out of me. That magazine story
about me had me whipped.

On February 13, 1936—it was a Thurs-
day, not a Friday—the chase ended.

J returned to camp from a visit in town
and the head guy called me into the camp
office. I knew what he wanted.

I was arrested for the murder of m
wife, Lillian. The police detectives too
me back to Seattle. They questioned me
for hours. I told them everything. About
the magazine story and how it followed
me all’? over the west. That’s what
hounded me into the law’s hands. I knew
it'd get me sooner or later. Somebody
at the camp saw my picture and told the
authorities.

As I sit here in the Alameda county
jail, waiting for the district attorney and
the court to decide whether I hang or
spend life in San Quentin penitentiary,

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cops who caught me. It was STARTLING LASALLE EXTENSION UNIVERSITY
Derective ApvENTURES ! Dept. 657-R Chieage
vy For MENTIONING STARTLING Detective ADVENTURES 79


was marked by holdups and led through

wisting and dodg-
son | to stay in Nebraska. Once they thought they had

him in Lincoln, but he escaped to the
West Coast.

Early the morning of December 10
two bandits held up a downtown Port-
land, Oregon theater, tied up the theater
official employes and officials, and walked

Kuhlman, Poh-
considered as a
, police. However,
» ned his men that
* 1 would shoot. to

carried a gun
He was a petty
often for a living
ct of squalid con-
e had been work-
day of his arrest.
larper, Kuhlman
ype that abhors

talk in Ohio,
said: “Wait until
nown as a square

< to Matt Leach.
lice commander
quickly, taking

finger missing.
d I would know

ial difference in
by Poholsky and
ky placed Hicks
it actually at the
Captain Miller.
‘000 to take part

out with a bag containing almost $1,000.
Unfortunately for the bandits, two police-
men aproached the theater just then to
act as guards for the transfer of the very
money the bandits carried.

Suspicious of the two strangers, the
officers followed them to an auto parked
nearby, then accosted them. One bandit
reached for his gun. A police fist swung
and connected hard with the bandit’s eye.
The bandit crumbled.

He was William Kuhlman. His finger-
prints quickly showed what he was
wanted for and before many hours In-
diana State Patrolmen Barton and Sheriff
Pulskamp were on a plane headed for
Portland.

Kuhlman' confessed to Portland Police
Chief H. M. Niles. He waived extradi-
tion, confessing again to Captain Matt
Leach after a fast return by plane to
Indiana. He told the Hicks’ jury essen-
tially the same gruesome story Poholsky
already had so unfeelingly told thern.

He told Leach of a girl Williams had
picked up in Chicago and fallen in love
with, refusing to leave her. State detec-

OHN FIORENZA, depraved sex
/ murderer of Mrs. Nancy Titterton in
New York, was executed in the Sing
Sing death chair after appeals and peti- -
tions to the governor had failed. A
single strand of rope was the clue that
doomed Fiorenza to death.

>

Theodore DiDonne, 31, and Joseph
Bolognia, 24, two of six thugs who killed
a subway collector for a bagful of nickels,
paid for their brutal crime in the electric
chair.

Louis R. Shaver, 58, was hanged at San
Quentin prison for the murder of his wife,
Lillian. Jealousy was the motive for the

Learn to Make

*30.°50.575 a WEEK

wo ee Ae tha you at

Aa aman

- _ offer tives immediately obtained information murder.’ cs a OPE pe | ~ |

cane about the girl. In Chicago they found her - eitad Broudeasting, ations, employ engi.
Sy. WSS parents. And on that day, Captain Matt B operator ana bes up to. 65,000. a year. PR

Leach in Brookville at the Hicks trial Al Broad. Spare'time Radio, set sersicing payt |

° muc —_ vg

pre as coldly offered to bet that Williams would be Jesse Roberts, 24, a grocery clerk, Hsien Much aa, 850, S50, $75, 2 week. \
4 erment as of under arrest in five days. turned bandit and-killed a tavern keeper Nuilor part time Radio businessen.
1 he had ‘been From the parents the detectives had in Chicago during a gun battle in which Satay tecterar inspectonie Tore: ‘

learned that the girl wrote letters to them, he was wounded.- The wound proved ines. t,. femmpleved ing up "to "80,000. 8 year. Radio

1.and Hicks had
ome on the pre-
roducing Kuhl-
hisky salesmen.
the auto while
he house. Soon

and obtained the address of her apart-
ment in San Francisco.

Steps Into Police Trap

fatal. Roberts’ first crime, was his last.

Sd

Tommie Howard was hanged in Caddo
parish jail, Louisiana, for the ambush

Opera’
uieaiates PC. where and joud speaker. systems offer

am now Chief Oper. Rone Spporenities now and Ki the

fore s. wes pe good jobs soon. Men I Trained have

St.. Lapeer, Mich. Rai. jops in these branches of

Many Make $5, $10, $15 a

i tra in Spare Time

ticks called for I ATE December 16 a young man who — shooting of Daniel’L. Perkins, who sur- ee — Lh pies nd
; only a few days before had obtained vived his wounds, but was, crippled for Pays Practically every neighborhood
onscious on the employment in a San Francisco dry _ life. pane man, ‘The day "ae enroll “f' etart
a Month sending ou Extra Money | Job

lind while he,
ook the uncon-
ito. Hicks later

to Cincinnati.

lots

goods store as a salesman walked into the
apartment of the girl with whom he had
fallen in love.

It was into the arms of the police he
walked instead of into the arms of the
girl. He told her he hoped to escape the
electric chair and come back to her some-

ad

Louis Lazar, 29, was electrocuted for
the murder of Morris Saskowitz, 55.
Lazar killed Saskowitz during an argu-
ment over a $25 paint bill.

n on pair ick
4) now have my own training I send plans sand, Ideas
Radio business which that have made time
shows three hundred money for Nt:indreds of Fellows, 1
dollars a month profit send special equipment which gives
sthanks Hone rn Na- you practical experience—shows

NK you how to conduct experiments and
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Find Out What Radio

Warsaw, Ken- time. She told him she would be waiting. Offers You
ited for a ferry, But opposed to the story of Frank Gore ad Mail the coupon now for, 'Rich Re-
wards in Radio It's free 4 apy

ining. Poholsky
1 leaned back,
lown with one
es with a gun
aptain Miller’s
drove to Madi-
back into Ken-

he lonely bap-
iad decided to
| digging. After
d rock and had

tremor how he
inds. “I expect
(’m ready. But
iger on Hicks

ed on Decem-
e C. O’Byrne
cutor Kenneth

Lowe and J.

rney gen- that the jurisdiction was in Indiana. Even nt : _ Aa NAME woe os ee -encer cence eceen nee = AGE, ny
t if the shots had been fired in Kentucky, the “Gold Brick cane, ADDRESS ..-...------ 22-2 - eee ee eeeeee ene ee
boing on the state established through medical tes-
ot on the trail timony that the blows struck in: Indiana BAIN abe ewencasscewsn-n eer seme STATE. von 43
His progress would have been fatal. CRIME NEVER PAYS

Williams that he only thought Captain
Miller was to be kidnapped and that he
was not in the auto when the captain was
shot were the adverse stories of the
others. The same fate threatened him
that the jury had given to Heber L. Hicks
on December 21.

“Guilty of first degree
charged in the indictment.”

That same night Judge O'Byrne sen-
tenced Hicks to die April 10 in the eleceric
chair.

Williams, Poholsky and Kuhlman were
whisked away to the state reformatory
after the trial because of fear that a jail
delivery would be attempted. Their pleas
were taken in February.

The piece of flesh and piece of home-
made shirt found about a mile and a half
from the baptismal pool was called only
a coincidence by the prosecution in the
Hicks trial. The jury said in its verdict

murder as

Chester White, 33, who slew his sweet-
heart: Charles Ham. 20, and Fred Fowler,
who killed a man during a holdup, were
executed on the same night at Sing Sing
prison.

od

Edward Williams, 62, a confidence man
in the county jail at Chicago, complained
of rheumatic pains and was given a cup:
of linament. He drank it and died a
suicide.

Ad

One of Sing Sing’s: oldest inmates,
Jack Parker, 76, died there recently of
pneumonia. All his life Parker had been
in and out of prison. At the time of his
death he was serving a life sentence as
a fourth offender. He was known as

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e


SHAVER, Louis, white, hanged Calif. (Alameda County)1/15/1937e++seees

x : CRIME DETECTIVE, SEPTEMBER, 1952.
\
y

, in
furnished wi
card table o
the occult w:

At 10:30 «
having arrive
bay, mounte:
and tugged a

The door

Soe
ete

St

fi
into th

sxe

ae

al be iade

oS

My D1


18

’ your dad is?”

neared the park at Seventh and Jackson Streets, he saw a small
boy, barely four years old, marching alone through the park. At
this time of night that was unusual enough. The fact that the
child wore a cardboard placard about his neck was even stranger.

Danielson approached the boy. “Hi, son,” he said. ‘“What’s
your name?”

“Louis.”

“And where do you live?”

THIs was a‘ question which the child couldn’t answer. However,
the sign about his neck did. It read: This boy's mother is
Mrs. Lillian Shaver of Telegraph Avenue, Oakland.

It was a cool night. A chill wind swept in from the bay and
the boy, clad in thin pants and a cotton’ shirt, shivered. Danielson
regarded him sympathetically. ,

“Come on, Louis,” he said, “I'll take you home.”

But when the officer pulled the bell at the Telegraph Avenue
house there was no answer. The door of the neighboring dwelling
opened and its occupant emerged.

He greeted the child and said, “What's wrong, officer?”.

Danielson told him of finding little Louis Shaver in the park,

The neighbor didn’t consider the matter serious.
“The father’s a-night chef somewhere,” he said. “He's probably

working. Mrs..Shaver must be out somewhere and the other two °

kids are most likely at the movies. Leave the boy with me.
He knows me. I’m a good friend of the family.”

This seemed reasonable to Danielson. He left the lad at the
neighboring house and went back to his beat.

The next visitor to the Shaver home arrived at noon the fol-
lowing day. It was Ed Soderberg, the police reporter for the

‘Oakland Tribune. His city editor had heard of the little lost boy

with the sign around his neck. He had despatched Soderberg to
the house to write a human interest story.

This time the pull bell was answered by eleven-year-old Frances
Shaver. In -response to Soderberg’s ques- ;
tions the girl informed him that little Louis
and his six-year-old brother, Richard were
in the house with her at présent. But
neither her father or mother had come
home the night before.

Soderberg asked, “Where do you think.

Sve a

“He just got a new job as night cook
in a restaurant in San Francisco. He works
so. late that sometimes he stays out all
night. He sleeps with a friend of his who
works in the same place.”

“And what about your mother?”

The child shook her head. “She didn't
‘come home all night either. She’s never
done ‘that ‘before.”

She went on to say that on the previous
evening her father had given her and
Richard money for the movies. When
they’d left the house both her father and
mother had been there with Louis, junior.

Now Soderberg decided that he might
well be on the trail of a bigger story than
he had expected: He followed the child
into the house. He looked {t over care-
fully.

When he entered the kitchen, he noted
that an iron bedstead stood against one
side of the wall. There was ‘a mattress
on, but neither blankets nor sheets. Frances
told him that her mother slept there.

It was then that Soderberg saw the
bloody handprint on the wall. He stared
at it for a moment, then turned to the
child and fumbled in his pocket for a coin.

“Here,” he said, “take your brothers
across the street and buy them some
candy. I’m going to use your telephone.”

Police Inspectors Summers and
Connolly examining evidence.

_

When the youngsters had gone Soderberg hastily examined

the kitchen. In addition to the crimson handprint, there were ]
several spots of blood on the green wall paper. There was sus- ?
picious brown splotches on the mattress as well. Soderberg went D
to the telephone. First he called his city editor. Then he called }
Police Headquarters. ; }
Shortly afterwards two cars arrived, bearing Oakland’s Police a
Chief Bodie Wallman, Captain of Inspectors Alex Trotter and her
Inspectors James Goodnight and Andrew Box. tho
In the meantime, Soderberg had not been idle. Following a mo
hunch he had raked the cold ashes in the stove. He had brought \
to light two bracelets, a small belt buckle and a length of iron det
pipe. lea:
He showed these items to the officers and then pointed to a .
small closet crowded beneath the stairs. “There’s a newly-driven ver
nail holding that cubbyhole tight,” he said. “I think we may The
. find something in there.” phc
The closet door was smashed open. “Something” certainly was ]
in there. ; the
It was the body of Lillian Shaver. It had been oddly twisted that
to fit into such small space. It was clad only in underwear. fore
Its skull had been battered in presumably by the iron pipe which Sha
Soderberg had found in the stove and her breast had been stabbed by
several times. : a h
Soderberg dashed once more to the telephone to apprize his limi
paper of the gruesome find. The policeman began a careful search bee:
of the house. It was Chief Wallman who found the small fragment the
of verse. C
It was written in pencil on a sheet of paper and it was lying an
on the bureau in an upstairs bedroom, It read: tain
There’s love in singing for you, sweetheart, dear, othe
Love that grows stronger year after year. . sign
The love that cheers life’s trials and tears, “H
When you place upon my hand a golden band, mor
eine ite SO SP OO ee } Oakien.
CFP eae Pe ag oy }
vie PRE d i Want
Pee eee CL BE Seo ne [ite

gedges. Oakland
i

i id Circular No. 363
Figs Sept. 18. 1934.

Pol
whe

Hou
plac


$
xamined Then I will say today sends love’s sweetest hour for human pair. Chief Wallman made three quick decisions. He sent two of his
re were 1 will try to help and love all through the year. best men to San Francisco to track down Louis Shaver, senior.
was SuUS- Now I am alone with my memories, He instructed Inspector Box to travel at once to San Jose, to
Tg went To wander back in days when you told me you loved me, try to get a line on the man who had signed the initial “W” to
e called never more to part. the love letters addressed to Mrs. Shaver. Inspector Goodnight
By this time the children had returned to the house. Chief. was instructed to bring in Roy Hall whose address was contained
3 Police Wallman showed the doggerel to Frances who informed him that _ in the fortune teller’s appointment book.
ter and her mother constantly wrote poems to her father, and that she It was now the theory of the police that Mrs. Shaver had been
thought this particular piece had been written only ‘yesterday murdered some time in the late afternoon, after the two elder
ywing a morning. children had departed to the movies. The killer—whoever he
brought Wallman instructed Inspector Goodnight to call the juvenile was—had contrived to send little Louis from the house and at-
of iron detention home and arrange that the children be kept there, at tached the placard about his neck in the event the young child got
least until their father could be found. lost. s
2d toa “If anything,” Wallman said to his fellow Officers, “I'd say this Late that evening no one had yet found the restaurant where
/-driven verse makes Louis Shaver seem a less likely suspect than before. Shaver worked. But before midnight Inspector Goodnight brought
ve may They must have been fond of each other. Someone get'on the . Roy Hall into Headquarters.
phone, Try to find out where he’s working.” Hall protested his.innocence but was extremely distraught. He
aly was Inspector Box left the house and went next door to question told the officers of Mrs. Shaver’s odd remark about impending
the family who were friends of the Shavers. From them he learned tragedy, of seeing blood in the crystal ball. He swore that the
twisted that the Shavers had arrived in Oakland only three months be- woman was alive and healthy when he had left the house.
erwear. fore, having come from Troy, New York. Mrs. Shaver was Wallman believed that he was telling an honest story.- Never-
> which Shaver’s second wife; the eldest child, Frances, was his daughter theless he checked on it as a matter of routine. The proprietor
stabbed by his first marriage. of the cigar store distinctly recalled that Hall had come in about
Now, the Coroner, Grant.D. Miller, arrived. After a pre- eleven that morfhing. Even more important he had seen Mrs.
cize his liminary examination he stated that the dead woman had not Shaver leave the house to do her shopping at least two hours after
search been criminally assaulted. Judging from the evident poverty of Hall had entered his store. Ba
agment the household, robbery had not been the motive, either. In San Jose Inspector Box was escorted by local detectives on
Chief Wallman, ransacking the crystal ball room came upon the rounds of every fortune teller in town. The names of each
is lying an item of intense interest. It was a japanned box which con- client was checked. There were several of them whose initials

tained the personal and professional papers of the seeress. Among
other items, the Chief found several passionate love letters, all
signed merely “W”; all postmarked San Jose, California.

‘ He also discovered from her appointment book that on the
morning of September 11th, Roy Hall had been expected.

were “W.” . .

Intense questioning of these. men, checking and discarding
those: with solid alibis narrowed the suspects down to two.
Eventually, one, a farmer and ardent spiritualist admitted that he

had sent the love letters to Mrs. Shaver. (Continued on page: 48)

Oakland, California, Police Department

Wanted For Murder

QUIS R. SHAVER: Age 50 years, but looks younger; height 5 ft. 5 in.; weight 154; brown hair; blue eyes,.
‘lightly crossed, one eyelid droops, right eye appears “cock-eyed". Medium ruddy complexion; hair greying on
edges. Oakland No, M-3073. : ee.

MI_15 poe (25

25 W
F, P. CLASS.:52 16038 =

LOUIS R. SHAVER is wanted for murder of his
wife, in this city, September 12, 1934,

Occupation, cook and has worked in Fraternity
houses, boys camps, and on boats and will appar-
ently seek like work. He has done some auto spring
work and may try to follow this line. When last seen
wore a blue suit, green hat, soft medium dark shirt,
black shoes. Suit cleaner’s mark 14-982, laundry
mark V14,

Tattoo marks: Jesus on chest, girl on right forearm,
butierfly and name Lillian ou left arm, eye, nude
man and woman with drape on one arm.

Moderate drinker, Chesterfield cigarette smoker,
and loves to swim.

Srent most of his life working around Troy, Lathem,
Cohoes and Schenectady, New York State.

Arrest this man. We hold felony warrant. Will extradite. Wire

Circular No. 363 BODIE A. WALLMAN, Chief ‘of Police.
Sept. 18, 1934. Oakland, California.

Police description of Louis KR. Shaver paid off
when alert eitizen recognized him in ai diner.

House where murder took place. Arrow. indicates
place where torn letter was found near window.


:

| “ The psychic medium he

@ glimpse into the

4 | future, ane found her=

e

HE building was a two story frame dwelling. Its paint

was flaked. Its appearance was dejected. It stood wearily

on Oakland’s Telegraph Avenue which in 1934 was a shabby,

dispirited thoroughfare. The single feature which distinguished

it from the other houses on the block was the dramatic
sign in the living room window.

It read: Madame Shaver—Spiritual Adviser—Psychic Medium—
Card Reader. ,

The interior of the place was no improvement at all on the
outside. The carpet was thin and the wall Paper peeling. An
archway in the downstairs hall gave on to a rectangular room
furnished with three severe chairs, an oak settee and a rickety
card table on which stood a crystal ball. This, obviously, was
the occult workshop of Madame Shaver.

At 10:30 on the morning of September 11th, 1934, Roy Hall,
having arrived by ferry from San Francisco directly across the
bay, mounted the seven steps of the house on Telegraph Avenue
and tugged at the old-fashioned pull bell. .

The door was opened by an attractive woman in her thirties.
Her hair was dark as were her eyes. The loose, black, voluminous
dress she wore did not entirely conceal her excellent figure.

She greeted Hall in a dramatic contralto voice. “Ah, Mr. Hall,

I see you are on time. I am ready to gaze into my crystal ball
for you.”

Louis Shaver was a cook with
a fondness for tattoo marks.

yas G gf

sedt looking right

into the grinning jaws
of hideous death!

: cai

é

By D. L. CHAMPION

Lillian Shaver, victim, whose
body was found in a cupboard.

va

She ushered him into the room off the hall. Black curtains

covered the windows, effectively dimming the sanctum. Hall:

seated himself soberly on one of the plain chairs. Madame Shaver
sank to the settee. She touched her pale forehead with her left
hand. She stared gravely at the sphere before her as if it held
all the secrets of the universe.

Glibly she told Hall of his future. It was the usual comforting

prattle of the professional fortune teller, But Roy Hall, a serious

and gullible man, took it seriously enough.

As she concluded the reading, Madame Shaver blinked sud-
denly, gazed more intently at her occult ball and said in a‘ low
voice, “I see tragedy. I see blood in the crystal.”

Hall moved uneasily in his chair. “Tragedy?’ For me?”

Madame Shaver looked at her client and saw, perhaps, that
he was disturbed.

“No,” she said. “Not for you. Maybe for me.”

Hall rose, thanked and paid her for her services: Then he left
the house. He stopped at a cigar store across the street to buy
a package of cigarettes.

That was the luckiest thing he ever di: \« his life. For Madame
Lillian Shaver was on the verge of demonstrating that she was
infinitely more psychic than even she, herself, believed,

At 8 o'clock in the evening Patrolman N. C. Danielson of
Oakland’s police force was dutifully walking his beat. As he


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Beeson smiled to himself. “Okay. Sign the
check and I’ll compare the signatures.” He
knew, of course, that here was Fletcher
Marsh’s draft card—but that Marsh’s name
on the card had been written by the crook
in front of him. Naturally, the endorsement
would be in the same hand as that on the
card. It was a slick trick! ;

The officer made a prearranged signal
to his colleagues and an instant later two
stunned suspects were staring down at
manacled wrists.

“You're tagged for forgery,” Beeson de-
clared. “What’re your names?”

The bogus Marsh scowled, but his com-
panion, thoroughly — frightened, stammered,
“Breckenridge—Kenneth Breckenridge. I
haven’t done anything. I just came along -
with my pal here.”

“Frisk ’em!”’ Beeson ordered.
probably carrying artillery.”

Beeson was right.. On Breckenridge was
found a .38-caliber automatic ; on his compan-
ion, a fully loaded .38 Colts revolver.

The suspects were taken to headquarters,
mugged and fingerprinted. Breckenridge, it
developed, had no criminal background, but
had become bored with a routine job and
fallen in with the phony Marsh in June.
The latter, on the other hand, was some-
thing else again. His prints and the police
files disclosed that his name was Albert
Simeone, age 33, and that he had done long
stretches at San Quentin and Folsom prisons
for robbery and attempted murder. He had
been released on parole from Folsom in
September of 1943.

“Quite a character,” Beeson observed to his
fellow officers. “I’ve turned the guns and
bullets over to the crime lab for a check.
Can’t tell what this Simeone has been up to.”

Stoner was informed of the arrests and
then Breckenridge and Simeone were ushered
into his office. The lieutenant glanced up as
the prisoners shuffled forward. When his
eyes fell on Simeone, he had_ difficulty in
restraining an exclamation. The question
‘hat bubbled to his lips was, “What in
blazes are you bringing Jetton in here for?”
—and then it came to him that this was not
the man who would soon go to trial for mur-
der, but another who greatly resembled Jet-
ton.

Stoner composed himself, but his mind was
racing far ahead. “Look here, Simeone.
You were carrying a loaded revolver.
Where’d you get it?”

“In a Skidrow bar. Bought it from a guy
who needed the dough.”

“T see. When was this?”

“Oh, about three weeks ago.
than that.”

“You don’t say!” The lieutenant’s voice
was brittle. “Then what’d you use when
you stuck up this bartender—Fletcher Marsh
—back in March! A flit gun? Lock ’em
up!”

Stoner hurried to the crime laboratory.-
“Put a rush on Simeon’s .38 and _ let
me know the minute you make your find-
ings,” he directed, and hiked over to the
homicide bureau. and buttonholed Hurst.
Swiftly he reviewed Simeone’s arrest and
the man’s remarkable resemblance to Rob-
ert Jetton.

“Simeone has a long record. He’s tough.
He’s been up for attempted murder besides
robbery. Further, he definitely stuck up
Fletcher Marsh, a bartender, and you know
how the mug with the cleft chin liked bars
and cafes.”

“Granted. But everybody and his brother
has already fingered. Jetton as the_ killer.
What are you going to do about that?”

“Bring in ‘everybody and his brother’ all
over again. Such a case of mistaken iden-
tity can happen and does. There’s one ether

“They're

No more

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| “f see what you mean. Simeone told you
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who shot him, was to put the finger on
Simeone as the man who did the shooting,
and if ballistics shows the gun found on
Simeone to have been the one which put a
slug in Mark and finished off Martinez and
Asch—well, then, Jetton just couldn’t be the
killer, identification or no identification.”

“Exactly.”

“But where you going to find Mark?”

“Darned if I know, but I’m going to con-
tact the Coast Guard pronto and ask them
to help us.”

STONER RETURNED to his office and
called Beeson, Gaffaney and Thaxter.
“Let’s start rounding up all the witnesses
again. We’re going to hold another showup.
And there’s one other angle. There’s a bird
named Eph Jenkins in town who was sent
up with Simeone back in ’31. I’ve got his
address here somewhere. Jenkins has been
going straight, and he told me he’d help us
out any time we needed him. Bring him in
and put him in a cell with Simeone.
“Jenkins’ll play along with us and he can
tell Simeone he’s been picked up for inves-
tigation of a recent heist. We'll hide a
‘bug’ in the cell and one of the boys can

keep glued to a pair of earphones and take .

down what Simeone says. Nobody’s let on
to him that he’s suspected of the Asch and
Martinez killings. He might forget himself

| and tell Jenkins, or maybe try to get Jen-
kins to alibi for him.”

At 7:30 that evening Ray Pinker called
on Stoner.

“Russell Camp, George Darrow and I
went over the gun and the slugs,” the chem-
ist said. “We’re agreed on the tests. They
show that Simeone’s .38 fired the slug which
killed Martinez. They also show that Asch
probably was killed by a slug from the same
gun. The bullet in that case was a mess and
hard to check.”

“The slugs at Charlie’s~ Place? What

Also fired from Simeone’s gun.

about them?”
“Ditto.
One thing the slugs, as well as the bullets

found in the rod, had in common: There-

were no grease rings on any of them and
they were apparently reloads made by hand.
All of which lets Jetton out, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, thank God!” Stoner slumped back
into his chair. “In less than two weeks that
lad might have been starting along the road

.to the gas chamber.” -

The following evening a new showup was
conducted, but this time with a different
principal—Simeone. .

Mrs. Martinez stared through the wire
screen and inclined her head. “Yes, that’s
still the same one who killed my husband.
That’s Jetton!” ‘

The Asch witnesses also pointed accus-
ingly at the man before them—“Jetton”—
and declared they had not changed their

opinion. He was the one responsible for the
murder at “8201!”
Stoner and Hurst exchanged forlorn

glances and drifted out ‘of the building to a
coffee shop around the corner.

“You see what we're up against,” Hurst
remarked wearily. “Jetton.is in the clear,
but no jury on earth w@uld convict Simeone
on such- an exhibition of identification.”

“Yeah, you're right. The gun and the
slugs won’t mean a thing if those people
don’t know that it was Simeone up there on
the stage and not Jetton. Simeone’s lawyer
could get a dismissal of the case so fast it
would make our heads swim.”

“There’s only one hope—the kid from the
Coast Guard.”

“I’m no longer betting that he'll even get
back here within a year. He’s probably this
minute somewhere in the Pacific raising hell
with the Japs!” ’

Waiting at headquarters. for them was a
message from Jetton asking them to come
to see him. They had no sooner reached his
cell than he blurted out, “I want to confess!”

STOP

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“Holy smoke!” Stoner exclaimed. “Then
you did bump off Martinez and...”

“No! I told you I was innocent of that.
I want to tell you why I didn’t alibi for
myself. You see, the day after Martinez
was killed I went to San Francisco. By
leaving Los Angeles County I violated my
parole. If it were found out, I would be sent

back to Chino to finish out my original sen-

tence. I also figured that if you knew I went
north right after the Martinez thing, you’d
think I had been trying to take it on the
lam.”

“You certainly risked San Quentin cya-
nide just to keep us from knowing about
Frisco,” Hurst grumbled, not unkindly.
“Anyway, the murder rap against vou is
being dropped. They'll probably hold you
on the parole violation, but that'll be noth-
ing compared to what you almost got.”

A WEEK LATER the dictaphone in Sim-
eone’s cell brought Stoner and Hurst a
measure of encouragement. Into the ear-
phones had come Simeone’s plea to Jenkins,
who was playing his part well, that the latter
aid him in establishing an alibi for February
8—the night Asch was killed.

“If I can prove I didn’t bump off Asch,
then tt knocks the whole case silly. They
wouldn’t have a chance,” the prisoner said.

The breathing of the two men was plainly
audible in the earphones, followed by Jen-
kins’ hesitant question. “But you did rub
this guy out?”

There was a long silence, and then Sim-
eone’s laughing response, “Brother, when you
catch me talking, it'll be in my sleep...
and I only mumble then!”

Stoner studied the report of the conversa-
tion. “Not bad,” he admitted. “We never
said one word to Simeone that he was being
held for anything but robbery. The fact he
mentions February 8 and Asch shows he’s
worried. We'll go on what we’ve got and
take the chance without Mark.” es

Simeone was charged with two counts of
murder and five counts of robbery. Breck-
enridge was also accused of five robbery
counts.

Trial opened late in November before Su-
perior Judge Charles W. Fricke. Brecken-
ridge, whose background save for his brief
association with Simeone was spotless, was
allowed to plead guilty to one count of rob-
bery—that of the Adams Bill Paying Agency
checks—and was immediately - sentenced to
prison for the term prescribed by law. Sim-
eone, sensing another means of beating the
murder rap, entered a plea of guilty to all
five of the robbery counts.

Judge Fricke ruled that the prisoner’s
crimes constituted robbery in the first. degree.
On December 11 the jurist held that Sim-
eone’s prior convictions established him as
an habitual criminal, and ordered that he
spend the rest of his life at Folsom without
hope of parole.

Judge Fricke then gave-the nod that the
trial on the murder charges begin!

As Stoner and Hurst had anticipated,
Deputy Public Defender Ellery Cuff readily
admitted Simeone’s possession of the murder
gun. He agreed the weapon was responsible
for the deaths of Asch and Martinez. But
that didn’t mean his client was the man be-
hind the gun. Certainly Simeone had been
“identified” as the killer, but hadn’t Jetton
also been so “identified ?”

These were telling arguments that Cuff
was getting across to the jury in his ques-
tioning of witnesses.

But Deputy District Attorney Thomas
Cochran had his innings. He pointed up the
resemblance between Jetton and Simeone and
how a mass error in identification could be
made.
had tied the gun found in Simeone’s pos-
session to the murders of Martinez and Asch.
He cited the conversation Simeone had had
with a cellmate and interpreted its impli-

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cations. He brought out the defendant’s un-
savory criminal record.

It was obvious the one link the prosecutor
lacked was the appearance of Coast Guards-
man Paul H. Mark himself.

Mrs. Martinez was just leaving the wit-
ness stand, after stating it was Simeone and
not Jetton who had slain her mate, when
there was a stir at the rear of the court-
room. Heads turned. Stoner jabbed Hurst
in the ribs..

“Brother,” he said, “the situation is well
in hand!”

Striding jauntily down the aisle was a
handsome young man in the uniform of the
United States Coast Guard—Paul H. Mark
himself !

Mark paused an instant beside Stoner.
“Uncle Sam said you had sent.out an SOS
for me, and here I am.”

A moment later the serviceman, taking the
stand, was glancing with level eyes across
the courtroom to,where Simeone and Jetton
stood side by side.
sion to step down, he moved forward and
placed his hand on Simeone’s shoulder.

“This is the man,” he announced quietly,
“who stuck up Charlie’s Place and used me
for a target.”

Mark was the man who had had the clos-
est look at the gunman with the cleft chin.
Actually, when placed side by side, Jetton
and Simeone could easily be told apart.
However, the other witnesses had seen the
killer only in the dim light of a tavern, and
had noted only his outstanding characteris-
tics, such as the cleft chin, receding hairline
and nose formation, all of which were re-
markably similar in both men.

The jury retired presently, but it was not
long in deliberating. When it returned it
was with a verdict of guilty of first degree
murder. On December 18, Judge Fricke
sentenced Simeone to die in San Quentin’s
gas chamber.

Late in January, 1945, the condemned man
was taken north to await verdict of his auto-
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was returned to Chino prison—and a for-
tunate young man he regarded himself at
that. The nightmare involving another man
with a cleft chin and in which he played so
weird and dangerous a role, was gone for-
ever... .

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Firemen found the severed finger in
the jar of cookies. The rest of her
body had been burned almost beyond
identity. But the cops smelled murder.

by Peter A. Larkin ©

anxiously through the glass; a heavy hand wiped away the
glittering spangles of fog.

After one hurried glance, Albina smiled knowingly and
unlocked the door.

“You're always late... you and your sweet tooth,” she
chided the hulking youth as he stepped in out of the chill
night. “Chocolate cookies again, I’ll bet a pretty.”

“I’m sorry, Albina,” the youth said, “but I worked late
se missed my supper. Maybe I can bribe Ma with some
cakes.”

“Don’t try to fool Albina,” the little shopkeeper said
gaily, “I know who’s got the sweet tooth in your family.”

The youth followed her to a row of square cookie tins
neatly ranged on a counter. She lifted the metal lid of one
and began counting a dozen chocolate cakes into a paper
bag. Intent on her counting, she did not see her customer
stealthily withdraw a heavy club from beneath his raincoat.

It struck with fearful force above her left temple. She
crumpled, whimpering piteously. As she fell, her right hand
grasped the sharp upper edge of the open cookie tin.

A second blow fell and, glancing off her head, crashed
down on the metal lid with such force as to sever the first
joint of Albina’s middle finger, so that the bleeding seg-
ment dropped into the tin. -

Albina was delicately molded, but she had a fighting
heart. As the assailant stared at her, bewildered, she strug-
gled to her feet and ran toward a door that led to her living
quarters, half a stair flight above the sweet shop.

“Wait, Albina,” the villainous youth’ shouted excitedly.
“Give me your money and I won’t hurt you any more.”

Albina lurched up the stairs with the assassin pursuing.
Again he struck her. She slumped, but grasped the stair
rail to pull herself back to her feet. The bludgeon rose and
fell, again and again, until she sank, bleeding and silent, to
the stairs and rolled down to the floor below.

The youth lifted her in his arms, then, and carried her
up the stairs to her sitting room. There he placed her in a
rocking chair. Her head slumped forward onto her thin
breast, her eyes closed and her mutilated hand hung limp
over the chair arm.

The murderer raced down the stairs to return with tw
lengths of light rope, and bound his victim, hand and foot.
He pried the eyes open, searching for a sign of life, but
found none. Then he tore downstairs again, this time re-
turning with a kerosene container. He poured the kerosene
over her thin body and onto the rug. Then he returned
once more to the shop. .

Slowly, at first, then frantically, he ransacked the store.
He took the meager change from the cash register, then
rifled the antique desk in which Albina kept her records.
Thwarted there, he pawed through tins and bags and boxes,
until he found the carton in which the bills had been se-
creted,

He began eagerly pulling out one box and another and
another. He pried each open, only to find it filled with
cigars. He flung them away, angrily, scattering the stock in
wanton confusion.

AMAZING DETECTIVE

Befriended by victim, he demonstrates how he murdered her.

Cursing ominously, he returned to the living room. He
pushed the inert figure of his victim from the chair and it
slid into a pool of kerosene. He flicked flame to a match
with his thick thumb and dropped it onto the saturated rug.

The flames leaped up, enveloping Albina’s body. The
fiendish design was obvious. Realizing that Albina could
identify him, the youth knew that he must make certain
beyond all possible doubt, of her death and, too, that he

Es ee


: t ee
SIMPSON, Charles, white, hanged San Quentin (San Francisco) on July 17, 1931.

MRE SEVERED FINGER
IN THE COOKIE JAR

Murder suspect on X-ray table. He was subjected to variety of tests to determine whether he was normal, and was found to be sane.

‘

@ A NATIVE San Franciscan, Albina Chabot had lived Avenue at eight P.M., as was her daily custom. Her business
with its daily curtain of fog all her life. In fact, like most San was a modest one, but she managed it carefully and was, at
Franciscans, she rather liked it. The fog cooled the air. It the age of 65, her own boss and sole support.

even afforded a desirable privacy. But never, in her wildest Counting her receipts on this night, she had exactly
dreams, did Albina imagine that the fog would help to solve $33.42. The $3.42 she left in the small, white cash register.
her murder. Of course, she never dreamed that she would The residue, in bills, she marked and bound with a rubber
be murdered. band, placed them in a cigar box and carefully put the box

Had there been no fog on that 18th day of February, away in a large carton filled with similar boxes which she ~
the heinous slaying of Albina Chabot might well have gone __ kept in a side room. 4
unpunished. But there was a fog, of unusual intensity, and As she returned to the store, she heard an insistent rap-
because of it, the assassin was brought to book. ping at the front door. Drawing aside the blind, she saw a =

Albina had closed her little sweet shop at Forty-eighth coarse, young face from which cold, blue eyes peered ~~
36 “ AMAZING DETECTIVE |
April, 1963 . ee ae


Kneeling at charred hole in victim’s living quarters, defendant shows Inspectors DeMattei and Wafer how he set her afire.

must eradicate all traces of his visit to the sweet shop.

The flames, he reasoned, could be attributed to accident.
A gas leak, a carelessly extinguished match, an overheated
furnace on a raw night . . . any of these things could have
been named as the cause of the fire which must obliterate
all traces of his crime.

Briefly he watched the fire lick at the bloodstained cloth-
ing. He turned back to the stairs, to leave this scene of
profitless horror forever and then he froze in his tracks.

A shrill scream had split the quiet room. The flames had
pierced the thin veil of coma and given voice to Albina’s
pain and terror.

Now wild with frenzied fear, the robber seized the blud-
geon once more and brought it down on the battered head.
Albina moaned feebly. Again he struck, this time knocking
his cap from his own head in the effort and neglecting it
where it fell.

The moaning stopped. He grasped Albina by her soft,
gray curls and dragged her to the bathroom. There he
poured the remainder of the kerosene over the body. Again
he dropped a lighted match, again the flames leapt up and
Albina’s sufferings came, at last, to a merciful end.

The murderer fled down the short flight of stairs. He hesi-
tated in the store long enough to stuff his pockets with
cigarettes, then moved stealthily to the front door.

Luck was with him there. An uncommonly heavy fog
38

hung outside and he slipped into its protective blanket and
vanished in the gloomy city.

All told, he had been in the little shop less than twenty
minutes, he had gained exactly $3.42 and a few packs of
cigarettes—and now he was a murderer, a hunted thing,
sulking in the fog that would, in time, do more to betray
than to shield him.

He had every reason to believe that the fire he had left
licking across the living room floor and devouring the frail
body in the bathroom would grow and spread until it had
obliterated all evidence of his dark deed.

But again he reckoned without the fog. It had been Al-
bina’s enemy in mortal life and it was her habit to shut it
out of the little shop and her home above. She suffered
from arthritis and the dampness brought her excruciating
pain, so she habitually closed the windows and doors tightly

against it, especially on nights such as this when it was at

its worst.

With the house tightly closed, the smoke, billowing up
from the smoldering clothing and the thick nap of the Tugs,
found no escape and, in time, turned back the flames that
had begotten it and robbed them of oxygen. Thus was the
scheme of the murderer thwarted and the story of Albina’s
assassination preserved, with charred body and blackened
floor for her avengers to see.

Morning came to San Francisco’s West End and, as al-

AMAZING DETECTIVE

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ways, its people were early up and about. Scarcely had the
sun climbed above the Eastern skyline before a woman,
who lived across the street from the sweet shop on Forty-
eighth Avenue, was at Albina’s door for their habitual morn-
ing cup of coffee together.

She was mildly surprised to find the door locked. Tradi-
tionally, Albina was up by now, the little shop in order, a

freshly brewed pot of coffee waiting on a trivet in the living
room.

As the murderer had done the night before, she cupped
her hands before her face and peered through the glass
door. What she saw was not the gentle little proprietress,
bustling about her chores, but dense, black smoke crawling
out of the living room and undulating down the stairs to
fill the shop itself.

Throughout the night, the fire had smoldered and fought
for life, and now the sight of the dense clouds sent her
stumbling frantically to an alarm box -a block away.

Within minutes, an engine company roared up, and then
another. The firemen, led by Battalion Chief Edward
O’Neill, leapt from their stringers and battered down the
shop door.

Inside, on the bathroom floor, charred, but still clearly
recognizable, the awful imprint of terror on her face, Chief
O’Neill found Albina’s body.

A veteran fire fighter, he knew quickly that this was a
job for the police. Soon Inspectors Harry Husted and
George Engler, followed by a squad of uniformed men,
arrived from headquarters.

ORD of the tragedy spread quickly through the dis-
trict, It was a comfortable section, full of good living
and neighborliness, where all men knew and trusted one
another and wives gossiped on the sidewalks and in the
markets that lined Clement and Geary Streets. Albina
Chabot had been a well loved figure among them and surely

e

there was none here to plot her destruction.

‘This circumstance, and the condition of the shop, pointed
unerringly to robbery as the motive, as unerringly as the
condition of the body pointed to murder.

On the living room floor, above the shop, Husted and
Engler found a charred outline of Albina’s tiny figure,
burned there before the killer had dragged her to the bath-
room. This told them, as clearly as they needed to know,
that she had been removed, unconscious, to the spot where
the body was found.

On the front door frame, detectives found many finger-
prints that had been made by firemen, policemen and the
curious since the discovery of the tragedy. There was, how-
ever, one set of prints that caught Husted’s practiced eye.
They had been made, he knew by experience with the fog,
the night before, when the mist had lain heaviest on the city.

He knew this because blood heat in the hands of an ex-
cited human being transforms the salty humidity of Pacific

. fog clouds into a scarifying agent, which etches fingerprints

into any soft surface, leaving them damningly limned there.

Husted found no matching prints inside, but he did find
two mismated work gloves, apparently slipped on by the
killer as he prepared to strike. One was a smooth leather
glove, the other canvas backed and rough leather faced.
The murderer had—Husted concluded—hoped, through
these, to leave the impression that two persons had been
in the store when the robbery-murder was committed.

Both gloves were bloodstained and there were smears of
blood about the store and living quarters left by the gloves.
The fingerprint expert arrived and the inspectors gave him
the gloves and pointed out the fogged print on the door
frame. As the agent began his transfer and Husted and
Engler returned to the shop, an excited little man appeared
at the street door and demanded admittance.

Inside, Engler heard him and directed the officer on
guard to let him in. Looking nervously over his shoulder,

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avlek. Both were slicated
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Sexton Diesin San Quentin =:

: who told police she rode in ‘the

Cell for Holdup-Slaying (2222. sires

Harold (Eddie) ® Sexton 23-1 execution failed yesterday, wheh in San Quentin, as recommended!

year-old Hayward butcher boy, the State ‘Supreme’ Court denfed| for leniency was made for Sexton, |
was executed in ‘San- -Queritin's|a sta. He appeared aie i
penaity. io:

gas chamber. today. for the 1949|calm as he went to his death
holdup-slaying: ‘of Heary sneer sécqnds _ after the pellet was
- Oakland businessman. * dropped, looked at Warden. Clin. 4
. He was pronounced deed at ton Dufty for the® nod: which
10:14 a.m. 12 minutes after the! would. tell him to take his final
cyanide pellet was dropped. deep Lreath |
Sexton's last bid to forestall the “Sexton and. pe Se Silva. 23,
———————————— Oo ee :
rr tpipe | Sie Res ae rma : akland, were found guilty by
pi ry last April of the murder
of Harames, produce merchant,
during a holdup attempt on Sep-
tember 2, 1949,
The attempted robbery oceyrred
in front of Harames’ hottie at 89
egal Street San or! nd

fession of Roberta Edwards, a ee

iby the jury, No recommendation |j a


1s

we

Teele, JLLIdeorI

| EXECUTION OF BSCQRAR AN SEBADO. ]‘
— Gus \

‘{becn an American, he would not have been
| molested, and he advised all Spaniards, wher-
‘ever they met o man with a while skin and
‘| fair hair, to put a knife in him up to the hilt.
‘fair hair, to put a knife in him up to the hilt.

| —confessed he had killed the deaf and dumb

ie a, |

In accordance with the sentence previously
pronounced, about half past one o'clock yester-
day these two men were launched into eterni-
ty together and from the samc scaffold. They

were escorted from the jail to the gallows, in
the vicinity of the city, under the direction of |,

Sheriff Solomon, assisted by the Sonora Grays, |.
Lieut. Evans, and the Columbia Fusileers,
Capt. Cazneau, follawed and preceded by from
{three to four thousand people—men, women
land children._Op tho-gallows. the--prisoners
were attended by the Catholic Pricst Alric,
Sheriff Solomon, Deputy Randall, the jailor,
Mr. C. Palmer, who acted as interpreter, and
James O'Sullivan.) ok rt
“qe Ghetilf then read thy death warrant,
and upon asking the prisoners if they: bad
anything to say, Sebado rose up and remarked

in substance as follows :
‘He asked if those who understood Spanish

were willing to listen to him, who giving their | |
consent, he went on to state that be was not
guilty ; that the real murderer of Sheldon was
Jose Gomez, his companion at the time the
ceed was committed ; that carly on that morn:
ing he aud Gomez were proceeding ap Wash

ington street, on thejrway (o Dragoon Gulch;
they were niet (Sod who presented a
‘pistol to his breast, which. he jerked from his |.
hand. At this time G brust a -knile is;
Sheldon, and, saying to Sebado he bad killed
+him, they both fied to Tuttletown. There, he
said. ha was arrested, while Gomez was sul- |
‘| fered to make his escape. He. said, bad be|

ee See

ie. ome O-

: He complained much of injustice, and said he
ihad not hada fair trial; said that Sheldon
‘was a bad man, and bad killed a Chileno at
!TIolden’s Saloon. But be would now show
‘the people _how a: Chileno could dic.__He
: jnsisted upen having a woman brought upon
' the scaffuld to play the harp for him to dance
ih’s way out of the world, otherwise ho would | :
dic unhappy._In conclusion be said If any one |.
Lpresent-derived-to-eend-wondor-monty totheir-y
man to take it.

_ Quite the reverse of this levity appeared the
coudact of Escobar, for whose fate there has
been much sympathy, and for whose pardon

carnest efforts had been mide.
Ile said he felt, forcibly the humiliating’)

posuun WWII BUDdUNIeDD CUUIG UTI % lee

ome eo

oan, and regretted it. _ He advised his friends |
not to follow the advice of Sebado, as they
hoped to avoid thesame ignominiouacnd. He

called on his God to witnecs that he had beep

. 4 -4f a= and that thio waa hia

Muudiay atid Luceda
aid tho of thew ee Bebuda) aud Serene Kuiz)
, Committed for ari,

ee

“and Chilenos They a

‘oucd, ait Pliatuyem of, its Neat |

rift ia fortise
be should ©

Inu. Calaverpy county
| Slarted in that aj,

U thea), Lhiat |

fuse the tives “hd ealond Nie pirwurt

> Calne sudden}
4! the

aol edtr—

vy

(he pletul y ae
bi: whit Jules Loy 4, wid |
leaded lu Jul —Cocaping thre: Maly tiated Wooly why |
Wadu ic Beue ti) rush toy hin, by the: He
| the WUbial bye

H ts !
Cludsd sf |

lu Abe aero he |
Wiuw brought beture lie: (typ

UM ey Jur
leatiniony jy Uhre: CUbe, did (ah
Cu priaut lu wwuil as

ys by wive |
: lilo leiuy etayuded |
Chaliiitiog lelore Wry iy’ |
Wale, Uhu crowd Wary :
Hiv, |

> Wet A Risse pire al i!

€ Justice dull

Lilul heloge Ube Patatrjay (ttn k

Juag Matic ah

The Uther lwo

ri;
Y» 1855

» Col, 3 (July 1855-1/56mi ssingl
~~ w 26 Waewras ay “OFF asege .

Mumpaw.CJubts Shela) vuc of the vliteot
i Vowideute yf Souurs, and al (he tiure ul big leath
willy ae Ge Ul thie pulivs tur thy cily, nina 1u-
huttwuly murdered by wa crgud uf Chiteode whe
were lying in wort ton bius, vu Suudiy yriing
lant, juat befuse dus, while in the diecharyd.uf Lie
duting  Brous evideucy clicites! belure thd. tore. |
bee's Jury, it appeared they had becu Watching
durisgy the whole CVedlupy tel & laverable Kipepus-
tuvity to coumit the deed, and, daslight ap:
Preaching, aud their chances tur Cy) weefideutal
Wigeling with bin BFW Ing ele wud ture ta :
Prpbpble, Abey coumsnenced a uuise’ that fe vuld
auloly bling bits te thew. Le oppleaches, aud
received a wuund da the viglt side— av ideally lu
Hicted row bebiid—troius the effects ol which be
died 1 About hall wu hour. ‘Lhe upardere to Hed |
| Suan us thy aluriy wus Kiveh, olllcess elated in
| PUreuil—thy hat wf one of the villaius lotta the |
ground wihere the wurderw ah Cobituiltead altbiatiay
hoor hises clue tuo thair Whereubuule, ot being rece:
| ulwed as beluupgiuy tow Chileny Livia od
pKvon CGiule hi. ‘t hd ulligers Plocceded fturth
ia cape where Ibey wore Wnloried that b Chi
lene Fediding wear vy bad borrowed @ his that
Inurbing, abd bad Keue tu Tuttletowy. Ab, aud
utes Chilenue rewiding lia Chat Hsivily,| were
Placed wuder ariealfnd oval tu Sunure la eeatity
du tegurd tu the Watley belurs the Curpyer's |
July, oud bhent Muleiuion, Accom patilod by iC
: Nules ond Mr. A Mivellong, procecded tu Tuttle:
luWwn, Where there toa large Caius ut Medicaus

bona.
ith te

tr omeme ee eee


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“But that’s the only place we haven't
looked!” Dennison protested. “We
ought to make sure!”

“Oh, all right,” the police officer as-
sented. “We'll open it up...”

A hammer was hurriedly found...
cold.beads gathered on their brows .. .
the nail was drawn rasping from the
wood. Dennison bent down gingerly,
jerked the door wide.

Then, as they peered into the shadowy
wooden vault, they recoiled and their
eyes went wide with sickening horror.

For there, stuffed into a bloody tomb,
was the twisted, ravished body of Ma-
dame Lillian Shaver ... nude limbs
drawn up in frightful contortion ?
her eyes two paste-like things rolled in
a mask of death cobwebbed with fad-
ing crimson streaks. This was the pret-
ty girl who had laughed at the Black
Ace... this gruesome, misshapen crea-
ture had lived and breathed not long
before.

“God...” Evans choked, “it must
have taken tremendous strength to
squeeze her into that tiny space.” He
turned away, licking his lips. “We'd bet-
ter get the homicide squad out here
right away.”

Summers nodded and went out into
the hall while Soderberg, shaking his
head, walked out to scoop his rivals in
San Francisco bay region with a graphic

narrative of blood and death. benni-
son, recovering his professional calm,
coolly snapped pictures of the grotesque
figure in the closet.

The Homicide Squad Arrives

HUS the home of Lillian Shaver

echoed with the sibilant bubbling of
many voices, the tramping of heavy feet,
the flashing of light bulbs as Police
Photographer V. J. Coley perpetuated
the murder scene,

Chief of Police Bodie A. Wallman,
Captain of Inspectors Alex Trotter and
Inspectors James Goodnight and An-
drew Box of the homicide squad came
together, followed by Coroner Grant D.
Miller of Alameda county.

The young woman’s body, rigid from
its cramped position, was lifted with dif-
ficulty from the closet; and then they
saw with what incredible violence death
had ended her life span. Her head had
been crushed by repeated blows from
the iron pipe, her breast and neck were
a pattern of gaping red wounds inflict-
ed by some razor-sharp weapon. One
slash had gone straight through her
right side, completely severing the heart.

Madness—the violence of hate un-
chained—must have guided the killer’s
vicious hand.

In the next two hours, Goodnight, Box

Oakland, California, Police Department

Wanted For Murder

edges. Oakland No, M-3073.

we.

LOUIS R. SHAVER: Age 50 years, but looks younger ; height 5 ft. 5 in.; weight 154; brown hair; blue eyes,
slightly crossed, one eyelid droops, right eye appears “cock-eyed”, Medium ruddy complexion; hair greying on

: 25 W Ill 15 25
F. P, CLASS.:53—17— 99 3p Ret. oy

Sepp in

Circular Ng. 363
Sept, 18, 1934.

- wore a blue suit, green hat, soft medium dark shirt,

Arrest this man. We hold felony warrant. Will extradite. Wire

LOUIS R. SHAVER is wanted for murder of his
wife, in this city, September 12, 1934,

Occupation, cook and has worked in Fraternity
houses, boys camps,-and on boats and will appar-
ently seek like work. He has done some auto spring
work and may try to follow this line. When last seen

black shoes. Suit cleaner's mark 14-982, laundry
mark V14,

Tattoo marks: Jesus on chest, girl on right forearm,
butterfly and name Lillian on left arm, eye, nude
man and woman with drape on one arm.

Moderate drinker, Chesterfield cigarette smoker,
and loves to swim.

Srent most of his life working around Troy, Lathem,
Cohoes and Schenectady, New York State.

BODIE A. WALLMAN, Chief of Police.
Oakland, California.

Above is a facsimile of the fliers with which Oakland police flooded the countr
after Louis Shaver escaped the dragnet. Readers are urged to study his eam
tion and aid the Law in its search for the fugitive.

66 . THANK You For MENTIONING STARTLING DetEcTIVE ADVENTURES

and Captat!
the desolat
every availé
done, they
an effort t
the puzzle.
case, they
following !

1. The
because
and jewe

2. Any

.. cust
fortune
science,
crime.

3. Th:
consider
field, ha
client a
dame Sr

der. T)
Oaklanc
bors th:
was Lo!

Jose, |
contai |

Judgi
facts, it
Shaver |
sion—w
as the
pects |
Cotton.
ous “p

Gooc
writter
before
nate h
was a
these |

T)


the desolate apartment, a
‘every available clue. Then, their tas
done, they questioned the neighbors in :

is

SA eet ae
nd Captain Trotter, working alone
had gathered

an effort to match the rough edges of

the puzzle. And as they pondered the

case, they were in possession of the
following facts:

1. The motive was not robbery,
because Madame Shaver’s money
and jewels had not been touched.

2. Any of 50 men... or women
... customers of Madame Shaver’s
fortune telling and crystal gazing
science, might have committed the
crime.

3. Three suspects were definitely
considered. The first George Rich-
field, had been her most persistent
client and had quarreled with Ma-
dame Shaver the day before the mur-
der. The second, Ralph Cotton of
Oakland, had been heard by neigh-
bors threatening her life. The third
was Louis Shaver, the slain woman’s
estranged husband.

4. The landlord and another ten-
ant in the building had not heard
sounds of a struggle.

5. A butcher knife, from which
bloodstains had been washed, was
believed to have been the murder
weapon. Inspector Evans found the
knife in the kitchen.

6. A man, known only by the ini-
tial “P”, had written scores of let-
ters to Madame Shaver from San
Jose, 50 miles away. The last few
contained threats.

Judging by a calm analysis of he
facts, it became clear that Madame
Shaver was the victim in a crime of pas-
sion—with jealousy or unrequited love
as the motive. But which of the sus-
pects had wielded the deadly blade—
Cotton, Richfield, Shaver, the mysteri-
ous “P,” or one of her other clients?

Goodnight, reading a poignant sonnet
written by Madame Shaver a few days
before her death, was inclined to elimi-
nate her estranged husband. For there
was a gentle tone, a tender rhapsody in
these lines:

There’s love in singing for you,
sweetheart dear, ,
Love that grows stronger year after

year, '
I will try to help and love all through
the year,
Now 1 am alone with my memories,
To wander back in days when you told
me you loved me, never more to part...

Madame Shaver’s life, Goodnight con-
cluded, had not been without its bitter
hours. Men, strangely drawn to this
frail, velvet-voiced woman with the vio-
let eyes of a Circe, had schemed and
plotted for her smiles. Even her diary,
with its pages faithfully filled down
through the years, was a document of
turmoil; and Goodnight saw that Lil-
lian Shaver had long been destined for
sorrow.

She had started the book the day of
her marriage, thus:

Louis and I were married today...
it rained all day ,.. there was thunder
and lightning during the ceremony...
I wonder what it means? ©

Lillian Shaver could have found the
answer in history, in the tragedy of Ma-
rie Antoinette, beheaded Queen of

THANK You

ba ty eat
ance, wh

ig t
Datphin was. broken th the sinister)

k roar of thunder ‘and the blinding flash

dnight, still

of lightning. | Inspector Goo t.to gather

in a reflective mood, went ou

up the loose ends of the case.

But that night he found himself
against a blank wall.

The Logical Suspect

Cotto”, Richfield and: “P”, the lat-
ter now identified as a farmer named
Poultney, had irrefutable, iron-bound
alibis for their movements the preced-
ing two days. Mais

haver, therefore, was the only logi-
cal suspect, with the possible exception
of other as yet unidentified fortune tell-
ing customers. Meanwhile Goodnight
had pasted together the torn portions
of the note found on the window sill of
the murder house. And when he had
finished reading its scrawled message,
the detective instinctively felt that Louis
Shaver, guilty or not, might never be
found alive!

“Lillian,” the note read, “you have
done mé a great wrong. I have been
trying to make up with you, but you
wouldn’t. You tried to put me in
prison, so you could have your lover
with you But God will take care
of you when the time comes. I
leave a curse upon you the rest of
your life. Hope you will go through
what I have gone through—and that
you never have a day’s luck as long
as you live and, if I can come back,
I will haunt you to death. I will try
and create the sorrow you ‘have
caused me. Goodbye,

Louis.

P. S$ I hope they take your chil-
dren away from you. For you are a
disgrace to them and to me, May
God punish you for the wrong you
have done.”

Goodnight turned the note over to
Captain Trotter. ‘

Fragments of a‘ torn note, pasted to-

gether, first put police on the trail of

Louis R. Shaver (above) wanted for his
wife’s murder.

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For MENTIONING STartTLING Detective ADVENTURES 67

Or) ee ea Seana ae Cee ade Sen ay a3
LT es Me

ie


ol I

Strangers’ problems

were her business

but she couldn’t
\ solve her own,

4 Oo
v
9 H yp | on ontf
. ARV ow 6 .. “
oP o ME Se ei?
ao 6 *. x
i P re Wks
} yee“ gt? vt
6°

hy the juvenile department at police head-

iy quarters and describe the situation to

ei Inspector Thomas Evans.

+ “Stick around for awhile, will you?”
Evans said after he heard Soderberg’s
story over the wire. “Ed Summers and
I will be right over,”

; While the slow minutes passed, Rogers

and Soderberg made a casual inspection

of the small apartment but saw nothing

to arouse suspicion until they strolled

into the kitchen. And there, like death’s

autograph, they were confronted with an

i ominous, dark-brown splotch on the

ae faded wall.

ie Soderberg caught his breath.

rh “Hey,” he exclaimed, “that looks like

H “Yeah,” Rogers agreed, “it looks like
, it all right. Say, I’d better call the office
and tell ’em I’ve taken the kids’ pictures.

ul They may want ’em right away.”

The photographer went out, called the

} Tribune offices and outlined the mystery

i to City Editor Stanley Norton,

ti “Great!” Norton exclaimed, “You
bring your shots in right away so we can The alertness of Keith Dennison (above), Oakland newspaper
have them made, and I'll send Keith photographer, was responsible for the finding of the victim’s
Dennison out to take your place !” body.

Rogers jumped into his car and specl
downtown, Dennison, with his camera
and a large supply of plates, joined
Soderberg at the mystery house a few

{ minutes later. The two were chatting in

his voice rose. “And look! There’s some
on the chair, too !”
Evans felt his pulse race.

careless. They might as well have left
a calling card lying around. Come on!
Let’s take a look upstairs...”

the kitchen when the doorbell rang. They
returned to the living room to admit
Inspectors Summers and Evans. The
newspapermen gave the detectives a brief

“Yes, sir, you’re right, Ed!” he cried,
“There’s something wrong in-this house.
Let’s search the place’l”

Bloody Prints

Murder wears strange guises,

.And such crimes can never be fitted to
a formula in which the procedure is al-
ways the same.

Readers of STartTLING Detective Ap-

summary of the story and led them back
to the kitchen, leaving the three children
huddled together in the front of the

VENTURES may remember the weird case
of Jessie Scott Hughes, in which San
Francisco police knew six months before

‘HE four men began a feverish hunt,
looking beneath beds, jerking open

house. closet doors, following a trail of Scattered _ her violent death that she was marked for
ii peered closely at the stained crimson drops which became more glar- murder, yet could not save her life. There
wall,

have been other cases. in which investi-
gators were confronted with murder, but
could never find the victim. And so it
was with the puzzle of the Shaver house
—a crime in which the clues came first,
the murder second.

The search of the upper floor yielded
nothing tangible. Evans, Summers and
the two newspapermen found a bedroom,
in which clothes, personal articles and
furniture were scattered in confusion.

16 STARTLING DETECTIVE

ingly apparent with every minute. In
the hallway, on the stairway leading to
the second floor, Summers made a dis-
covery that sent an involuntary cry to
his lips and brought the others running
to his side,

“What is it, Ed?” Evans asked.

The detective pointed at the wall.

“See that?” he snapped. “It’s a bloody
handprint! And believe me, if murder
was done here, somebody was mighty

“Hm, I guess it is blood,” he said.
“We can scrape it off later and make
sure.”

; Summers, meanwhile, was busy ex-
i amining a small iron bed, pushed against
the kitchen wall. There was a mattress

On it but no blankets,
“Come here,” he motioned to the
others. “This mattress is stained!” His
ar eyes darted to a green chair nearby and


well have left
nd. Come on!
guises.
ever be fitted to
srocedure is al-

DETECTIVE Ap-
the weird case

in which San
< months before
was marked for
» her life. There
which investi-
ith murder, but
im. And so it
e Shaver house
lues came first.

‘yr floor vielded
. Summers and
und a bedroom,
ial articles and

in confusion.

r DETECTIVE

4 ; vit k HeP ,
billable a a8 Sati AONE

a)

PN con

Speman

i

gy? eect

ae

Captain of Inspect-
ors Alex Trotter,
of the homicide
squad, examines the
crystal in which
Lillian Shaver pro-
fessed to read

future for her cli-
ents. Was her
slayer listed among

them?

i

Photo shows ex-
terior of Shaver
home with arrow
indicating where
torn note was found
which, pasted to-
gether, gave offi-
cers their first clue

to the slayer.

ey

no ravaged body. “

Soderberg walked to the window and
gazed down at the street. Suddenly his
eyes spotted a dozen bits of paper, cling-
ing to the ledge below the sill. He leaned
down, gathered them up and showed them
to one of the officers.

“It’s a torn up note,” he said eagerly.
“Somebody threw the pieces out the win-

. dow and just by luck there wasn’t any

wind to blow them away. Might be use-
ful, huh?”

Inspector Evans nodded. “Sure.
We'll paste them together later.”

‘The four men, more bewildered than

ever, returned to the ground floor and
renewed their search of the little apart-
ment. In the next fifteen minutes, with
their apprehension growing, they stum-
bled across further harrowing evidence.

From the inside of the cold kitchen

stove; the police resurrected two
bracelets, a charred belt buckle and a
length of iron pipe.

“Good Lord!” Dennison gasped. “You
don’t suppose...”

Evans sensed the newspaperman’s
Macabre thought.

“The stove?” he said softly. “No...
1 don’t think you’ll find any flesh in those
ashes. These things were thrown in
when the fire was out. Look at this pipe,
for instance—you can still see matted
hair and blood stuck to it. It was used
on somebody’s head... probably the
mother of these kids !”

He shrugged.

“But where is the body . . . that’s the
question.”

Evans turned to his fellow officer and
suggested they should telephone | the
homicide squad. Soderberg was struck
with the same thought, for here was a
priceless opportunity to flash his paper
with more exclusive details on what
might be one of the major news stories
of the year.

A Gruesome Discovery

qust as he was leaving to find another
telephone, the morning sun broke
through the clouds and its beams swept
the room. Dennison, adjusting his tri-
pod, saw something sparkle on the nar-
row wall beneath the stairway and
stopped short, staring at a shiny nail in
the wood there.

He stepped closer, warily.

Then, with his mouth suddenly dry, his
temples hotly throbbing, the photog-
rapher saw that the nail was new...
was gripped with the certainty that it had
been driven there not many hours before

' to seal the almost invisible slit of a tiny

door.

Dennison finally found his voice.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Wait a minute!
Here’s a door that’s just been nailed
MDa
Soderberg and the police officers,
aroused by the pitch of his voice, rushed
back into the room.

“Oh, that?” Evans said listlessly.
“Why, it isn’t big enough to hold a body.
Besides, it’s nailed up.”

[Continued on page 66]

17

d

There were a few more bloodstains—but

1
be
aa
iY

Bria aoe Pe EST we

j
i

ors

Sep ewe pee

HACKED CRYSTAL GAZER

“These things were thrown in when
the fire was out. Let’s look around up-
stairs.”

They started for the stairway, and as
they passed through the narrow hallway
the glistening rays of the morning sun
came filtering through a little window.

Evans suddenly stopped short, dropped
to his knees, then jumped to his feet again.
Excitedly he grabbed his partner’s coat
sleeve, jerking him to his side. “See what
I see?” he whispered, and his finger darted
to a shiny nail in a painted wooden panel
beside the staircase.

The two stared in blank amazement.
Both were thinking of the same thing. Yet
for a few moments neither spoke.

“A cubbyhole like this couldn’t hold a
body,” Evans asserted, breaking the deadly
silence. “But...”

The pair bolted into the kitchen and got
a hammer. Quickly the new nail was
drawn,

Both grabbed the panel and let it drop
to the floor. One look, and the macabre
sight before their eyes sent them recoil-
ing in horror. Crammed into the narrow,
box-like shoe closet was the contorted,
half-nude body of a woman!

Fo NEARLY A MINUTE they looked aghast
at their gruesome find. Here, obvi-
ously, was the work of a murderous fiend.

It was evident that terrific force had
been used to stuff the body into the dingy
compartment. The legs were doubled up;
the arms twisted into grotesque positions.

Only a filmy undergarment, silk stock-
ings and slippers were on the corpse.
Everything was soaked with blood. And
from the red-smeared face two glassy eyes
stared out at the officers like grim sen-
tinels of death.

“And what a fiend did this,” Evans ex-
claimed. “I’ll get the homicide squad right
on the job.”

At headquarters Captain of Inspectors
Alex Trotter banged up his telephone and
called out his orders to me in the assem-
bly room. With my partner, Andrew Box,
I dashed to the Telegraph Avenue house.
We had only meager details—a woman had
been found in a closet—murdered.

Before we reached the place Evans and
Sommers had removed the body from its
gory crypt. We joined them in a hasty
examination of the victim.

She was about twenty-five-years of age.
It was easy to see, despite the ugly
wounds, that she had possessed unusual
beauty.

Her head was crushed—beaten brutally
in a dozen places. Through her body a
knife had been plunged fully a dozen
times. What grim motive, I wondered,
could have brought her to such an end?

| Digna AND SoMMeERS were still going
over the details of the case with us
when Coroner Grant Miller and his depu-
ties arrived. So far no one had identified
the body, though we were satisfied the dead
woman was the mother of the children.
They previously had been sent out to play.

I hurried upstairs for the landlord, R. G.
Lee, the man I later learned had taken in
the little boy the night before.

Lee started down two steps at a time.
He stopped nervously at the stretcher and
a coroner’s deputy pulled back a sheet ex-
posing the mutilated head. Lee took one
look and covered his face with his hands.

“What a thing to happen to her,” he
gasped as he quickly backed away.

Box and I joined him in the bedroom.

62

He was looking vacantly into a crystal ball
that stood on the bureau.

“Many’s the time I’ve seen her stare into
this thing and tell people what the future
had in store for them,” he mused, half to
himself. “Wonder if she ever saw any-
thing like this ahead for herself?”

We listened in astonishment.

“You see,” Lee continued, fast regaining
his composure. “She made her living tell-
ing fortunes—looking into the future. She
called herself a psychic medium. Madame
Lillian Best Shaver was her name. Those
are her children outside.

“She lived here with her husband, Louis
Shaver. He’s about fifty. God only knows
what’s happened to him. They've lived
here quite some time—decent folks, and
hard working, too. And I never heard
them quarrel. They seemed to be such a
happy family. Men and women came to
her to have their fortunes told—day and
night they came. Say, I’m wonder-
ing... :

He stopped short and turned his eyes
thoughtfully toward the ceiling.

“Wondering what?” I inquired.

“A week ago,” the landlord explained,
“T saw a strange man enter her apartment.
Soon afterwards I heard loud voices. I
listened from upstairs. Her windows were
open. And I heard him threatening her
life. Do you suppose ...?”

“Give us as detailed a description of that
man as you can,” Box interrupted.

He gave us a fair description of the
man, rather young and heavy built—a radio
salesman, he understood.

“N J[ADAME SHAVER told me afterwards,”
Lee went on, “that the man had come
to have his fortune told. Something she
said about his past threw him into a fury.
He threatened to kill her. She had difh-
culty in getting him out of the house.”

For an hour or more we questioned Lee.
He had not seen the Shavers since the
previous morning. Of what had befallen
Shaver, he had not the slightest notion.

Together we discussed the mystery
quite freely. The husband’s fate now was
our chief concern.

Had a lust-crazed slayer done the couple
to death and concealed their bodies in this
shambles? Had Shaver shared the same
grim fate as met his wife?

We searched the house from the cellar
up, peering through every room, looking
for other cubbyholes like the one that hid
the woman’s body. There was no trace of
Shaver.

Was he lured from the house and mur-
dered? Would we find his body in some
place far removed? We wondered.

As one instrument of death we had the
pipe. Where was the knife, so ruthlessly
plunged into the woman’s body?

We searched again. This time we found
two butcher knives under papers in the
kitchen table drawer. They were washed
clean but the handles showed faint traces
of blood. We wrapped them up carefully.
Here would be work for the department
expert.

Then we called in the children. Lee told
them tenderly that their mother had been
injured—someone had beaten her and she
was in the hospital.

HE TWO OLDER youngsters, sensing trag-
edy, burst: into hysterical weeping.
“Who would want to hurt mamma?”
sobbed Frances, the eldest child. “And
where can Daddy be? They were cooking
breakfast when we left for school yester-

From page 9

day morning. Louis, our baby brother,
was with them. Won't you please arrest
whoever hurt our mother.”

Further questioning of the children was
useless, ‘The little fellow seemed too
young to understand. The others, heart-
broken, could not help us.

Early that afternoon we gathered in
Captain Trotter’s office. For several hours
we pored over our notes, reviewing every
detail. And the more we talked, the more
puzzled we became.

“Let’s pull this thing together—as we
have it,” I finally said, addressing the cap-
tain. “First of all we have a woman mur-
dered and we have no motive. It wasn’t
robbery. Her money and jewelry were not
disturbed.

“Some fiendish, vengeful purpose lies
behind that killing. That pipe came down
on her head dozens of times. Any one of
those knife wounds would have killed her.
The murderer worked in a devilish frenzy
—wanted revenge, perhaps.

“No one saw him enter—and no one saw
him leave, even though the landlord was
home all morning. The couple is in the
kitchen getting breakfast when the children
—two of them—leave for school. They
come home in the afternoon. The little
kid’s gone—found that night wandering in
the park with a note on his coat. Whoever
killed her knew her address—or took the
trouble to find out; then scrawled it on a
paper and pinned it to the child.

“Then those children sleep all night to-
gether a few feet from a box of a closet
where their mother’s body has been
crammed in like a bundle of rags.”

Captain Trotter interrupted me. “And
what line do you get on the husband?” he
inquired, impatiently.

“None at all, captain,” I told him. “He
wasn’t to work yesterday. I’ve checked.
None of their friends had seen him. May-
be he’s dead somewhere—maybe his body’s
hidden in the hills—or thrown in the bay.
Who knows? Perhaps the man who made
those threats last week returned and at-
tacked her—-maybe Shaver interfered. Was
he killed to protect the slayer of his wife?
Who can tell?”

G: Aeapuiey WE WENT over Lee’s account
of how Mrs. Shaver was threatened
as she sat before the crystal ball. Lee had
amplified the man’s description. Over the
teletype it went to police departments from
one end of the state to the other. By tele-
phone and telegraph it was rushed to other
places. “Arrest this man—hold him for
us,” the order read.

A squad of plainclothesmen was sent out,
instructed to visit every radio establish-
ment in the city in the hunt for the wanted
man. San Francisco and bay peninsula
police were asked to do the same.

Our conference was interrupted by a sud-
den knocking at the door. It was Inspec-
tor Louis Jewel, the department's criminol-
ogist.

“T’ve got something that may be of some
help,” he suggested, laying down a handful
of reports on the captain’s desk.

“Those two butcher knives—I’ve exam-
ined them under the microscope. There
were specks of something between the
blades and handles. Enlarged hundreds of
times they’re particles of clotted blood.
The murderer couldn’t see that when he
washed the knives.

“And you know that bloody handprint on
the wall. It's got good fingerprints. I’ve
enlarged the pictures—clear loops and
whorls there. When you get your man

those prints will s
Soon afterward
the next few day:
like beavers. We
the Shavers by thx
clients of Mada
women for whom
future. Some o
others reluctantly
psychic faith,

HEY TOLD US |

how she could
recall the past. 1]
far. People sougl
For them she gaze
globe of crystal.
unravel the myste
no one had more t

This was Shave
friends told us. |]
Schenectady, Nev
born. This wife
died. Thirteen ye:
in Burlington, Ve
he was a widowe:

Then he met Li
one child—the girl
eight years ago.
was dead, the vic
murder as we had

From some of °
came a new theo
gested motive of

“Only recently,’
me, “she spoke o
had fallen desper
men who went t
were smitten by |
eyes.

“They made ad:
them. One of the
and never paid he

The seer had c
her friends, I lez
she even named
spurned. She to
outburst when he

At least that w
spector Box and
dering where it w
a day we conti:
sought, tracing hi

Finally we fou
friends in San ]
burst like a bubbl:
had been away f
weeks.

“What next?” J
crossing the bay b
motive business is
to the murderer.’

“And it isn’t f
added. “Strange
trace of him tur:

Wy? DECIDED th:
continuing t
friends of Mrs.
should be able t
lead.
Headquarters,
with activity. Te
teer helpers and \
come in a major
no exception.
Every hour see
someone—word t!
here or there; a
another had val
and night Captain
sending men das]
then another. An
We were in hi
one of our early 1
a phone call fre
pulses pounding.
“They've just {
estuary,” he ann¢
like Shaver’s. H


eran news cam-
eraman, and Ed Soderberg, re-
porter, started out in a hurry for the place.

A bright-eyed little girl opened the door and admitted the
two newsmen. "

“I’m Louis’ sister, Frances,” she said when she learned the

purpose of their call. “I’m taking care of him, too. I’m

eleven-years-old, you know.”

|S tes SHE ESCORTED the visitors into a back room and
posed with her brother for pictures. Six-year-old Rich-
ard Shaver, the third child, looked on with envious eyes.

Soderberg pulled out his note paper and began asking
questions. “Say,” he inquired of the girl, “does your mother
always pin a note on Louis when he goes out to play?”

“T don’t know, mister,” she answered lightly.

“Where is your mother, anyway ?” he asked.

Frances shrugged her shoulders.

“She and Daddy weren’t here when me and Richard came
home from school yesterday,” she said. “I don’t know where
they are. We got our own dinner and went out to play.
When we came home Louis was upstairs with Mr. Lee, the
landlord. But it’s all right. I cooked the breakfast for all
of us—we’re 0, kK.”

The reporter grabbed the telephone. He called police
headquarters and explained the situation to Inspector Edward

8 vere

Evans of DETAINED
the juvenile department, !nspectors Jewel (center),
“ ” and Goodnight (left), ques-
Sounds funny at that,’ Evans fide duspact
exclaimed. “I'll come right over.”
Awaiting the detectives, Rogers and Soderberg started
looking about the house. Curiously, Rogers stepped into
the kitchen.

H° HAD BARELY ENTERED the room when a glance at the
white-washed wall sent him hurrying for his partner.
“Look at that, Soderberg,” he fairly shouted, pointing to a
large reddish splotch on the plaster.

“That's blood—or I’m a -” the other blurted. “There’s
something funny about this whole set-up...”

“Look over there,” the cameraman interrupted. The pair
faced the opposite wall. In amazement they were staring
at a still larger spot of crimson.

Ringing of the doorbell interrupted their talk. Into the
house came Inspectors Thomas Evans and Edward Sommers.
Briefly the newsmen recounted what had occurred and led
the way back to the kitchen. The three children remained
in the front of the house, amusing themselves with their
toys.

Sommers looked closely at the red stains on the wall.
“Seems like blood all right,” he declared. “We'll get the
department chemist to make a test. But let’s look around
some more.”

Together they stepped into the adjoining bedroom. A
moment later Sommers let out a soft, low whistle. “Look

BEREAVED

Three innocent suffer
lost their mother

violent death

“And get this,’
green chair at tl
too.”

The two stare
been murder he
“Funny set-up. ”
pinned on his co
little fellow—mot
the house. And

“Whether bot!
for him. “But
where are the bo
are they, anyway

Feverishly, th:

m page 9

brother,
ise arrest

Idren was
2med too
rs, heart-

thered in
eral hours
ing every
the more

‘r—as we
z the cap-
man mur-
It wasn’t
- were not

rpose lies
ame down
ny one of
killed her.
ish frenzy

o one saw
dlord was
is in the
ie children
ol. They
The little
ndering in
Whoever
r took the
ed it on a

| night to-
f a closet
has been

ne. “And
sband?” he

him. “He
e checked.
vim. May-
his body’s
in the bay.
who made
ed and at-
‘ered. Was

i his wife?

e’s account
threatened
1. Lee had

Over the
nents from
r. By tele-
ed to other
id him for

as sent out,
» establish-
the wanted
y peninsula
me.

ed by a sud-
was Inspec-
t's criminol-

be of some
na handful

-I’ve exam-
ype. There
vetween the
hundreds of
vtted blood.
at when he

iandprint on
prints. I've
loops and

t your man

those prints will speak their piece.”

Soon aiterwards we scattered, and for
the next few days and nights we worked
like beavers. We interviewed friends of
the Shavers by the score. We-rounded up
clients of Madame Shaver—men and
women for whom she had peered into the
future. Some of them talked freely;
others reluctantly, embarrassed by their
psychic faith.

HEY TOLD us of her uncanny powers,

how she could predict the future and
recall the past. Her reputation extended
far. People sought her from out of town.
For them she gazed day and night into her
globe of crystal. But for clues that might
unravel the mystery of her tragic death,
no one had more than trivial suggestions.

This was Shaver’s third marriage, their
friends told us. His first romance was in
Schenectady, New York, where he was
born. This wife divorced him and later
died. Thirteen years ago he married again
in Burlington, Vermont. Two years later
he was a widower.

Then he met Lillian Best, a widow with
one child—the girl, Frances. They married
eight years ago. And now his third wife
was dead, the victim of as mysterious a
murder as we had faced in years.

From some of Madame Shaver’s clients
came a new theory of her death—a sug-
gested motive of unrequited love.

“Only recently,” one of them informed
me, “she spoke of two male patrons who
had fallen desperately in love with her—
men who went to her for readings and
were smitten by her vivacity and flashing
eyes.

“They made advances—and she repulsed
them. One of them bolted from the house
and never paid her.”

The seer had confided this to several of
her friends, I learned. To one of them
she even named a client whose love she
spurned. She told of this man’s angry
outburst when he was told to go.

At least that was worth checking. In-
spector Box and I took up the trail, won-
dering where it would end. For more than
a day we continued after the man we
sought, tracing him from place to place.

Finally we found him at the home of
friends in San Francisco—and our clue
burst like a bubble. He satisfied us that he
had been away from Oakland for several
weeks.

“What next?” Box remarked as we were
crossing the bay back to Oakland. “All this
motive business isn’t getting us any nearer
to the murderer.”

“And it isn’t finding Shaver either,” I
added. “Strange there hasn’t been a single
trace of him turned up.”

E DECIDED that our only chance lay in

continuing to check with patrons and
friends of Mrs. Shaver. One of them
should be able to furnish some tangible
lead.

Headquarters, meanwhile, was buzzing
with activity. Telephone calls from volun-
teer helpers and unsigned messages always
come in a major mystery. And this was
no exception.

Every hour seemed to bring a clue from
someone—word that Shaver had been seen
here or there; a tip that some person or
another had valuable information. Day
and night Captain Trotter was taking calls,
sending men dashing in one direction and
then another. And every hope was blasted.

We were in his ofice—Box and I—for
one of our early morning conferences when
a phone call from a patrolman sent my
pulses pounding.

“They've just found a man’s body in the
estuary,” he announced excitedly. “Looks
like Shaver’s. Head mashed in, too.”

We dashed for our radio car. Down
Twelfth Street we went with siren shriek-
ing.

On the way a hundred questions flashed
through our minds. Would we come face-
to-face with double murder? Might Sha-
ver’s body yield a clue? Who drove him
to the estuary and how was he slain?

When we reached the water’s edge a-

crowd had gathered. We elbowed our way
through the throng. There on the shore
lay a dead man in dripping clothes. One
look and I knew we had come for nothing.
There was no resemblance to Shaver—
years older and much thinner. And the
body showed no signs of violence.

Back in the captain’s office we reviewed
the whole case again, checking new reports,
arguing possibilities. The hunt for the
threatening radio man had brought many
inquiries—wires for better descriptions, re-
quests for more details, but no results.

“This woman had clients by the score,”
I finally told Captain Trotter. “And I’m
going to run them down until I’ve seen
every one. Someone must have the key to
this thing. And just for luck I’m going
to buzz those kids again. I’ve talked to
them a dozen different times already—kids
have a way of remembering things when
you least expect them to.”

B™ AND I started out for an address on
Poplar Street. I suggested that we
drop in at the Juvenile Detention Home
first—just to see the Shaver children again.

The two older ones just shrugged their
shoulders as they had time after time.

“Might as well admit to you it’s a fool’s
errand,” I confessed to Box.

We started out, but something drew me
back. Hunches do work in the police busi-
ness—every once in a while.

“I’m going to take that youngest child
on just once more,” I told my partner.
Little Louis, the four-year-old, had just
stared at me before. “I don’t know why,
but I want to talk to that kid again—and
I want to do it now.”

A few minutes later the little boy was
brought shuffling into the reception room.
Again I began the same round of question-
ing. And again came the same shrugging
of shoulders; the same lisped, “I don’t
know.”

Then suddenly the unexpected happened.
It came so suddenly that I nearly slipped
out of my chair. What prompted the ques-
tion I still don’t know. It-was just one
of those things that happens.

“Say Louis,” I asked the child, “don’t
you want to be a big man and tell me
something I want to know. That electric
light over your mother’s bed. Do you
know how it got smashed?”

The little fellow’s eyes seemed to open
wider. He moved up close to my chair.
“Sure, mister, I know,” he blurted in his
childish voice. “Daddy broke it! He broke
it with that green chair. He busted it when
he was hitting mamma with the chair—
you know, before he put that knife in her.”

ox AND I exchanged glances. I could
feel my temples beat. Here was the
break we’d been working for. And from
the lips of a child—the murderer’s child at
that!

Yet to have shown concern over the boy’s
answer would have sealed his lips again.
But it was hard to conceal my excitement.
At last the mystery was unfolding. And
now we knew this was not double murder.

“Oh yes” I said to the boy quite cas-
ually. “And then your daddy—did he look
around for a new light that wasn’t brok-
en?” .

The lad shook his head. .“No sir,” he
answered unconcerned. “He just took a
knife out of the drawer and put it into

de oosabat tbe. ache en “oman sine

mamma’s heart—lots of times—like this!”
And with a chubby fist he reenacted the
fatal stabbing.

That was enough. At least we were
on the right trail now. But it developed
that our job had just begun. And we little
fancied what surprising events still lay in
store for us.

On the way back to Captain Trotter’s
office we kept wondering whether Shaver
ever would be found alive. In the light
of the child’s story, isolated details flashed
through our minds—slim facts that before
seemed insignificant. Now, pieced | to-
gether, they suggested that Shaver might
be a suicide.

“Those teeth,” Box remarked to me.
“They give a suicide slant all right. Re-
member, we found his false teeth in the
bathroom.”

“And his spectacles too,” I added. “If
he made a getaway after killing her, he’d
take his teeth along—even if he could get
by without specs. A man with false teeth
takes them with him. He didn’t. Undoubt-
edly he had a reason. It’s my guess he
bumped himself off—jumped in the bay,
perhaps.”

Le AT HEADQUARTERS we made another

discovery. Madame Shaver had
brought about her husband’s arrest several
months before on a charge of threatening
her with a knife. We dug his fingerprints
out of the files. They matched the bloody
print photographed from the wall.

Our expert, Inspector Jewel, took a sam-
le of Shaver’s writing. He magnified the
etters, comparing them with the note

found pinned to the little boy’s coat the
night of the murder. The writing was
identical.

Was Shaver now dead or alive? We
wondered. But we were losing no time
and taking no chances. A murder warrant
was secured. Circulars bearing his pic-
ture and description were printed hurried-
ly calling for his arrest as the slayer of
his wife. We started intensively on the
job of broadcasting them to every city and
town in the country.

It was while this was under way that the
case took another unexpected turn. And
it sent us leaning more toward a suicide
theory than we had before.

A clean-up squad of detectives, combing
the Shaver house again for tell-tale evi-
dence that might have been overlooked,
stumbled on a flower pot tucked away in a
corner of the overgrown garden. In it
were torn scraps of paper.

Patiently they matched the pieces to-
gether, like a jig-saw puzzle. The result
was a note in Shaver’s writing, addressed
to his wife.

“It’s dated weeks before the murder—
evidently not long after she had him ar-
rested,” one of the inspectors told us. “But
it shows which way his mind was running.
Say, get an earful of this... .”

B*% AND I listened intently as he read the

following:

You have done me a great wrong. I have
been trying to make up, but you wouldn’t. You
tried to put me in prison so you could have
your lover with you. But God will take care
of you when the time comes.

I will leave a curse upon you the rest of
your life. Hope you will never have a day’s
luck as long as you live—and if I can come
back I will haunt you to death. I will try to
make the sorrow you have caused me. Goodby.

Louis,

P. S.—I hope to take your children away
from you so you can have your lover, for you
are a disgrace to them and me. May God pun-
ish you for the wrong you have done.

het ae Box jumped to his feet. He
snatched the note and read it again.
“Did you get this?” he exclaimed. “ ‘If I
come back I will haunt you to death.’
What’s that mean if he’s not planning sui-

63


DETAINED
nspectors Jewel (center),
nd Goodnight (left), ques-

tion suspect.

and Soderberg started
, Rogers stepped into

1 when a glance at the
rrying for his partner.
shouted, pointing to a

other blurted. “There’s
“up...”

1 interrupted. The pair
rent they were staring

ad their talk. Into the
.and Edward Sommers.
t had occurred and led
hree children remained
themselves with their

ed stains on the wall.
clared. ‘‘We’ll get the
But let’s look around

idjoining bedroom. A
ft, low whistle. “Look

’

BEREAVED
Three innocent sufferers who
lost their mother through
violent death.

at this,” he ex-

claimed and he pointed his fin-
ger at an enormous bloodstain on
the uncovered mattress.

“And get this,” cried Evans, his eyes turned to a broken
green chair at the opposite side of the room. “Blood here,
too.”

The two stared at each other in amazement. “There’s
been murder here, I’ll bet,” Sommers told his partner.
“Funny set-up. The little kid’s turned loose with his address
pinned on his coat. The other two are left alone with the
little fellow—mother and father gone all night—blood around
the house. And now I’m wondering . . .”

“Whether both of them got bumped off,’ Evans finished
for him. “But if we’re right,
where are the bodies? And who
are they, anyway?”

Feverishly, the two began a

LETTER
This is part of a note which
police found in the mur-
dered woman's home.

minute
scrutiny of the apartment, pull- i

ing open closets, looking under beds, moving

furniture. They eyed the floor. Zigzagging back and forth
was a trail of blood. The pair followed it into the hallway.

“Get this,” called Sommers from the dimly lighted corridor.
And he held up a handful of bloodstained rags. Close by on
the wall were crimson smears, one larger than the other.

“Tried to scrub his evidence away, eh,” remarked the other.
“Say, this looks like his calling card.” And the detective
pointed to a gory hand print on the plaster near the staircase.

They retraced their steps into the kitchen. Evans removed
a lid from the cold kitchen stove and began poking around
in the ashes.

“Good God,” he suddenly exclaimed, pulling out a six-
inch piece of iron pipe. “This was used on somebody’s
head—maybe on the mother of these kids for all we know—
look here !”

Stuck to one end was a clump of
matted hair and blood.

They ran a stick through the
ashes again. Out of the heap came
two bracelets and a charred belt
buckle.

“Don’t think we’ll find any flesh
in there,’ Sommers finally sug-
gested. (Continued on page 62)

9

Ee Gan...

one bag of money across the counter

and turned back to pick up a second.
As he did so, the gunman’s right hand
moved. There was a blinding ex-
plosion and Jack Asch fell -to the
floor. His assailant did not hesitate.
He walked rapidly around the count-

er, snatched a handful of bills from.

the fallen man’s hand and stalked out.
As he passed the bar he waved the
gun menacingly at a man who stood
near. “You want some of this?” he
asked tonelessly.

~In a minute he was gone. Ten

‘minutes later police radio cars were

racing to the scene of tragedy. While
Detective Lieutenant’ Lloyd Hurst .
took charge, a coroner’s deputy made
a hurri€d examination of the victim.

os NUMBER TWO

headquarters.

_and

“He died alate instantly,” the ‘offi-
cial announced. “He was shot in the .
back and it looks as though the bullet
lodged in the spine. We may cba av
that for you at the autopsy.”
“Good,” Hurst said. “We're going
to need it.” :
Meanwhile the usual procedure in
such cases was being followed by
When the alarm was
flashed through to Communications
a “hot wire” went to all departments’

the city. Investigators of the robbery
bureau, as well as trained homicide _
detectives, hurried to: the scene. By
the time Hurst had rounded up his
few -witnesses plenty of De. had
arrived.

-man volunteered. -
in here more than four minutes. I

police sub-stations throughout .

nade | on the night of Jan. 26, 1944,

“Tell us every detail of the affair
that you can remember,” Hurst de- Si sh

manded of the stunned patrons.

“There isn’t much to tell,” a spokes- :

“The killer wasn’t

can describe him but that’s about all.”
Hurst jotted down the description:

a young man, well dressed, wearing a
-blue mountain jacket, the collar

turned up, partially shadowing his” 2

face.
lapefully. “Did you notice that?’

“It was a revolver,. about a .38 cali- |
ber,” the man said. “I’m pretty sure —

it was a Colt.”

“That’s good,” the detective te x

“Anything else?”

. Neither.the spokesman nor the oth-

er witnesses had much to add. THe

incident. had happened quickly. But,

they were all certain of one thing:

-If they were to see the gunman again,
they would recognize him. “I'd know.
one man said. “He ,

him by his eyes,”
looks right through you.”

. “What about the gun?” Hurst asked —

, Further questioning brought n no ad-

dicen information. Hurst took the
addresses of the witnesses for future

reference then ‘he and-his officers left, .

although prowl cars continued ‘to

the night.

In the morning the case was re-
ported to Captain Thad Brown, of
Homicide. Alongside the briefly noted
facts of the crime, Hurst placed the

“murder bullet which had been recov-
. ered in an autopsy performed in the

late hours of the night.
'As Brown studied the pellet he was
reminded of a grim prophecy he had

. patrol that section of town throughout

‘The peculiar behavior of one of his
customers failed to impress Joseph
Martinez, above, until he had closed
his bar that evening and bent to lock
the safe, right. It was then the solitary
~. slayer, brandishing a gun, snapped out
his command for money and again shot
his victim’ with the same wanton merci-
lessness that marked his other crime.


Sa

BAFFLING DETECTIVE

nearly two weeks before. On that
evening a cafe on Western Avenue
had been doing a thriving business,
The crowd at the bar paid little at-
tention to the lone man who stood
toward the back, drinking scotch and
sodas and playing the same tune over
and over again on the juke box. . :i4
Suddenly the man’s voice was raised

in a sharp demand: “This is a stickup. ;
Don’t anybody move, or I’ll blast you.”. | 3
They were practically the same words

the killer had used at Asch’s.

On that occasion, however, a coast-
guardsman, thinking the gunman was |
joking, had laughed. For answer the
snub-nosed gun in the bandit’s right
hand barked twice. One bullet crashed
into the bar; the second struck the
Seaman in the leg, passing downward
into his foot. Bieee

In the pandemonium that followed, —
nobody saw the gunman make his
getaway. When, a little later, Detec-
tive Lieutenants C. W. Thaxter and
G. R. Stoner, from the robbery detail,
arrived on the scene they could get
little information. The wounded man
was given emergency treatment and
the bullet recovered from his foot.
But the immediate police blockade
which was thrown around that part of
the city brought no arvests ‘and no
clues to the gunman’s identity.

When a report of the case came to
the attention of Captain Brown, that
officer had expressed his concern.
“Such a gunman must be caught at
once,” he said. “He’s too nervous:
He’s more than a robbery suspect,
he’s a potential murderer.”

Brown was sure the juke box gun-
man and Asch’s murderer were one
and the same. They had issued prac-
tically the same commands in the
_ same toneless voice; their descriptions
tallied. The captain’s warning ap-

SCIENCE TAKES A HAND
An astounding tie-in with numerous other crimes was :
established when Russell Camp, ballistic expert, top,
began checking test bullets from the suspected murder
weapon, center, with the actual death pellets. Note the
_. Similarity of markings on the fatal and test bullets in
-+ microscopic photo at right. This helped cinch the case.

AG Se | :

a >.

BAFFLING DETECTIVE

CALL GETS RESULTS |
ey naib to a routine robbery call, Detective Lieuts. Frank Beeson ied Ralph
e

aney,

ft-to right, above, of the ‘robbery detail, uncovered a surprising clue

ot led to the arrest of the dapper slayer, right, and ‘exploded previous testimony.

e
/

parently’ had been justified but now

it was too late.
The bullet, which had been taken

‘from Asch’s body, was turned ‘over

to Russell Camp, ballistic expert in the
city police laboratory. While Hurst,
Lieutenant Robert Lohrman and other
officers sought to get a line on the
killer, Camp made the first important
contribution to the investigation.
“This bullet is the re-load type,”
he told Captain Brown. “It is not fac-
tory made. And it’s a .38 caliber.
When you get the murder weapon, I
believe it will be easy to identify.”
But Hurst, Lohrman and the other
detectives were making slow progress
in. their effort to trace the murderer.

At the end of several days’ investiga-

tion the officers still had no leads. The
gunman had gotten away with $200,
and that was all the additional in-
formation the officers could secure.
Realizing the vicious character of the
man they sought, they felt they were
working against time. And then, while
the investigation was still in its early
stages, the unknown bandit struck
again.

On the night of “March 2 Fletcher
Marsh was held up and robbed in his
bar by a man who spent more than
an hour in the place. In addition to

robbing the till, the gunman took the -
-victim’s driver’s license and other

personal papers.

-

' Twenty minutes after this first rob-

-bery, on the same night, a man of the

same description held up and robbed
the cafe operated by Mrs. Wes Eichen.
Description of the man, his gun and
his actions were the same as before.
He- stood at the bar, drank scotch
and soda and played the same tune
on the juke box. -

A week passed. On March 8, ex-
actly 30 days after the Asch murder,
police again heard deadly news of the
slippery fnurderer. On that night,
Joseph Martinez, a friendly, neighbor-
hood bartender, was serving drinks as
usual at his cocktail bar on Whittier
Boulevard. His wife was helping out
at the cash register. Neither of them
paid any attention to the, man who
walked in about 10 p.m. ~-

When the man ordered a scotch and
soda and slipped a nickel into the

juke box, neither Martinez nor his

wife realized their danger. ~

At midnight Martinez ushered his
customers out and walked back to the
small office in the rear of the build-

-ing. His wife, in the bar with two

waitresses, was busily adding up the
day’s receipts when the unlocked door

slowly opened. To her astonishment,

she saw a man walking determinedly
toward her. It was the same man
who had stood at the bar for two
hours, drinking alone. “This is a-
stickup, lady,” he announced. .

4 a

band’s side, the gunman filed..

_-He marched: the helpless woman,
at gun point, back to the office where
Martinez was busy locking the safe. -
Fearing that the bandit might shoot
his -wife, Martinez” dropped to his
knees and reached into the safe. He
brought out one bag of money in his

right. hand and handed it over. As

he did so, the gun blazed. One bullet
struck the bartender in the left side;
the other entered his abdomen. .As
Mrs. Martinez. rushed to her. hus-

Joseph Martinez... was té0.. ‘badly
wounded to talk with.: officers. ‘Nor

-could Mrs.. Martinez tell the officers
-much when they arrived on the scene

fifteeri minutes after the.shooting.
Detectives Lieutenant H. V. Cooper
and Lee Tracy, from: the Hollenbeck

-sub-station, of Los Angeles police,

took over the investigation. © =
Mrs. Martinez and the two “wait-

-'resses were able to give police a good

aide hese of the murderer. ~He was
OSes geet on » page. “1 Pion.


line along the bar had thinned.
It was nearing midnight, closing
hour for all Los Angeles liquor
establishments and Jack Asch, the
jovial bartender, had just fixed him-
self a sandwich which he munched
while the last of his customers finished
their drinks. :
Suddenly a man walked in through
the rear door. He took several quick
steps toward the counter, keeping his
glance constantly on Asch. In his
right hand was a heavy revolver.
Scarcely moving his lips, the hard-
eyed gunman. barked his order:
“Okay, Jack, this is a stickup. Get
-me the money or I'll blast you!”
The scattered patrons stood trans-
fixed as Asch laid down his sandwich

and moved toward the cash register.
The bartender opened the till, pushed

BAFFLING DETECTIVE —

FIRST VICTIM ;
Unaware of the viciousness of the killer
with whom he dealt, Jack Asch, above,
shown in death,.was complying with the
brusque demand for money when the
cold-eyed gunman reached across the
bar; left, and shot him. Maintaining his
dead-pan calm, the slayer walked
around the counter, took the money

from Asch's hand and fled the scene.


xs

er the other.
slid off his
d announced,
on’t anybody

jsman, think-
of the nightly
loudly. The
at as the gun
flashed twice.
ough the pol-
_and the other
ian’s foot. The
antly the same
Asch’s life.
atectives from
greau and the
ed desperately
t struck again
ht of March 22
i hour drinking
letcher Marsh’s
ams Boulevard.
in and emptie
Marsh’s driver’s
sonal papers.
- after robbing
‘afe operated by
routine was the
h and soda, and

+ of the police,
inued to operate.
and mercilessly.
e innocent look-
ar, robbed, then
into the night.
; a mild-talking
highball, and in
ruthless robber
ling crossed him,
t in the minds of
y were after_an
‘ad criminal. The
ich he operated,
timing, the cer-
indicated that he

——

~

Bee

. knew well his trade, the business of

robbery and murder.

Hurst and Stoner poured over
thousands of crime report records
and searched hundreds of mug files
in an effort to uncover some clue. “If
only we had some witnesses who
could pick this bird’s picture out from
our files,” Hurst said.

“Maybe we don’t have him filed,”
Stoner suggested. “Maybe we’re trail-
ing a new operator.”

“Could be,” Hurst agreed, “but you
can be sure he’s an experienced man.
Some time or the other he’s been
picked up. Maybe on some charge not
connected with murder and robbery.”

N the night of March 8th, just one

month after the murder of Asch,

Joe Martinez and his pretty wife,
Helen, were attending their bar in
The M Cafe, at 2230 Whittier Boule-
vard, As midnight approached, Mar-
tinez took the money from. each of
the cash registers and placed it in a
separate canvas bag. A half-dozen
customers still lingered at the bar,
including one young man who had
been drinking scotch and soda for
more than an hour.

Mrs. Martinez went with her hus-
band as he carried the two bags to a
back room to place them in a safe.
She returned to the barroom imme-
diately, but before she reached the
bar, the young man suddenly con-
fronted her with a revolver in his
hand, “I want that money,” he said.

Prodded by the gun, Mrs. Martinez
backed toward the rear room, stark
fear preventing her from protesting.
Martinez, seeing the gun and white
face of his wife, immediately handed
one of the money bags to the gunman.
Without’ sayin
to one knee before the open safe, and

a word he, dropped .

reached inside it for the other bag
of money. Without warning, suddenly
the bandit’s gun roared, and Joe Mar-
tinez keeled over, a hole in his back.
In another moment, the bandit had
grabbed 4 the bags of money and
fied into the blackness of the night.

The crime was an exact repetition
of the Asch murder, with one excep-
tion, “’ll know that man,” Mrs. Mar-
tinez vowed.

Captain Tommy R. Bryan, Chief
of the Hollenbeck Detective Bureau,
in whose territory the crime had oc-
curred, immediately set every man
in his department.to work on the case,
headed by Detective Lieutenants Lee
Tracy and H. V. Cooper.

Mrs. Martinez and the other wit-
nesses in the cafe described the bandit
as had witnesses in the Asch case.
“He wore a blue pin-stripe suit, a

gray hat, and a turtle-neck sweater,”

Mrs. Martinez said. Martinez himself
was never able to give any informa-
tion. Two days later he died at the
Good Samaritan Hospital.

“It’s the same bird,’ Hurst told
Bryan when he learned of the Mar-
tinez case. “If any of your witnesses
can identify him, get them in here
and we'll show them pictures of every
known bandit in our files. It’s our
ad hope for a lead.”

or two days officers showed Mrs.
Martinez and other witnesses hun-
dreds of mug pictures of known
criminals. They looked through book
after book of pictures, and when they
had gone through all the books once
they started over again. Finally Mrs.
Martinez stopped Stoner before he
turned a page. “Wait, let me see this
one again,” she said. She looked close-
ly at a picture and a steady glint came
into her grief-reddened eyes. “That
man,” she pointed, “is the one.”

“Be sure,” Stoner cautioned her
hopefully. “This is only his face.”

“He’s the man, I’m sure,” she re-
peated.

The same picture was immediately
shown to other witnesses. They each
agreed that it was the man who had
drank at Martinez’s bar and then
shot him down.

A check of the Record Bureau re-
vealed that the man the witnesses
had pointed out was Robert W. Jetton,
25, who had been paroled from Chino

‘Prison on February 9, 1944. He had

6

been sentenced to San Quentin Prison
on July 12, 1941, for auto theft, and
later transferred to Chino and then
paroled.

“Hold it,” Hurst said as he read the
record. “This couldn’t be the same
man in the Asch case. He got out one
day after the Asch murder.”

‘Then we've got two of them work-
ing,” Bryan said. “Mrs. Martinez
seems to be completely sure of her
identification.”

“Then this one is your man,” Hurst
replied, “not ours. We're still looking
for Asch’s killer.”

Tracy and Cooper quickly checked
with Jetton’s Parole Officer and con-
firmed the South Hill Street address
of his residence. But at the address,
which was a rooming house, they were
tone that Jetton and some friends had
eft.

“Where did they go?” Cooper asked.

“Well, I can’t say for sure, you
know,” the landlady replied. “But
they said they were going to San
Francisco.”

“When did they leave?” Tracy
questioned.
“Well now, let’s see. It was just

the other day, the 9th, that’s when
it was.”
The officers exchanged glances. The

n, exgmines one of the <2"
} onfthe guilty bandits.”

t .

ops


See ee ee ete te ee eee ao

34

RUTHLESS———

bandit wounded a service man during one of his many robberies.
Tom’s Cafe (shown above) was the scene of the ruthless shooting.

ninth was the day after the Martinez
crime. “A smart parolee doesn’t leave
town without consulting his Parole
Officer,” Captain Bryan commented
when he heard Tracy and Cooper's
report. “Not unless he has a good rea-
son to get out of town fast.”

Contacts with the San Francisco
police department failed to locate
Jetton.. But a careful watch of the
South Hill Street address did, after
three days. Jetton and his friends
returned late on the 12th. Within a
few minutes a group of officers closed
in on them.

Jetton, two men and the three
women with them were all arrested.
At headquarters they each denied any
knowledge of any crime. “I’ll admit
I did wrong by leaving the city with-
out the Parole Officer’s permission,”
Jetton said, “but I didn’t have any-
thing to do with that job.”

“Then why did you get out of town
just after it happened?” Bryan asked
him. ‘

“No reason,” Jetton replied. “We
jus went up to Frisco for a trip, that’s
ai,”

A search of Jetton’s personal effects
revealed clothing which could have
been that described by the witnesses.
But no gun was found. “What did
you do with your gun?” Tracy asked
him.

“T tell you I don’t have a gun,” Jet-
ton insisted.

“What’s your favorite drink?”
Cooper asked him, ;

Jetton paused a moment. “Scotch
and soda,” he answered.

On the evening of March 14th, Jet-
ton and his friends were placed in
the Police Show-up line. More than
a dozen witnesses in various hold-ups
were in the audience. Five witnesses
in the’ Martinez case positively identi-
fied him, and three others partially
identified him. No one identified his
friends, and they were released.

“Well it’s a pretty weak case as yet,”

Captain Brown said, “but we’ve got
to charge him. We'll have to dig up
more evidence before the trial.”

On March 16th a Coronor’s Jury
heard the inquest into the death of
Joseph Martinez and Mp lhe recom-
mended that Robert W. Jetton be held
for the crime. That same day Judge
-Charles Newell Carns, sitting in Mu-
nicipal Court, heard the evidence and
ordered Jetton held for trial in Su-
perior Court.

Various officers took their turn in
questioning Jetton, but each met with
the same stolid denials from the young
man. “I had nothing whatever to do
with -that job,” was his stock reply.
“You fellows are making a mistake.”

By the time Jetton’s case was called
in Superior Court the death gun,
which officers felt was the one vital
bit of evidence missing, had not been
located. At their request the District
Attorney asked for and obtained a
continuation of the case against
Jetton.

S the weeks went by without fur-
A ther evidence being found against
Jetton there was one significent
fact noted. The cafe and bar robberies
stopped happening. This coupled with
the facts of the positive identifications,
the admission of Jetton that he fre-
quented bars and drank scotch and
soda, and his flight from the city the
day following the Martinez murder
added up to a strong case, despite the
absence of the death weapon and the
statements of Jetton’s friends that he
had been with them on the night of
the crime.

On the evening of July 21st a young
woman drinking at Klopp’s Cocktail
Bar, on West 7th Street, noticed a
young man giving her. the eye. She
had been in another cafe a few months
before when. the mysterious bandit
had robbed it. She gasped as she
looked closely at the man a few
stools down from her. It was the same

ROBBERY EXPERT———
Det. Lieut. George R. Stoner is shown
examining Tommy-gun found on suspect. ;

man, she was almost sure of it.
Quickly the young lady slipped off
her stool and went into the telephone
booth. She called her girl friend, who
lived a few doors. away. “I think that
same fellow who held-up the place we
were in is here now,” she told her.
“Oh my goodness,” her friend re-
plied. “Call the police right away.”
“Well, I want to be sure. Come
down here and look for yourself,”
Within a few minutes her friend ar-
rived. “Yes, I think that’s him, only
he’s a little heavier than the one we
saw. Anyway I think we'd better
notify the police.”

Radio Officers T. V. Rawson and.

J. E. Crowley answered the call. They
met the young women outside the
bar. “You walk along behind him and
nod,” Crowley instructed them. “We'll
do the rest.”

When the young man was picked
up he gave his name to the officers
as George Hunt. While Crowley ques-
tioned him outside the place, Rawson
asked the bartender about his cus-
tomer. “I don’t know him,” the bar-
tender said, “but he’s been coming in
here for the last two or three weeks.
He spends money mighty freely. Al-

‘ways drinks the best liquor, scotch

and soda always.” .

To Crowley, Hunt admitted that he
had recently. gained nearly twenty
pounds in weight. He was hurried to
headquarters and questioned by de-
tectives. But the next day all of Hunt’s
statements checked out. There was
nothing whatever against him and h
was. promptly released.

Jetton’s case was called for Sep-
tember 5th, and as July and August
crept by the officers were unable to
strengthen their case against him, ex-
cept for the absence of bar hold-ups.
There were other robberies but the
quiet drinking  bar-bandit was
strangely inactive. :

Among other robberies on which
the Robbery Squad was. working was

_ CONFESS
bandit K
Captured

a_busines;
ply of blz
resumin;
been take:
them, the
fied. They
check-cas}
large busi)
out for an)
turn up.
It didn’t
checks to
entered a
and Main
of them of
identificati:
The telle
forgery,
M sorry,’
just made
and I dom
hand.”
A doubtf
face of one
can help
quickly, “tz
Terminal E
There’s a c
Tell them th
€ care of
The dark
moment. “YW
e reached
ere.”
The men
ne loor be
e telephon
Detail. verhe
there now,”
Careful desc
them long, Y
Four office
Lieutenants }
the Robbery
Sanders, fro
They had ju
inside and 0
when the two
bag under h
Presented the
uns draw

a
“ey

mer is shown
1d on suspect.

t sure of it.
ady slipped off
) the telephone
irl friend, who
. “I think that
ip the place we
she told her.
her friend re-
cight away.”

e sure. Come
or yourself.”

3 her friend ar-
iat’s him, only
an the one we
k we'd better

’. Rawson and
ithe call. They
2n outside the
sehind him and
ad them. “We'll

an was picked
to the officers
Crowley ques-
: place, Rawson
about his cus-
him,” the bar-
been coming in
or three weeks.
thty freely. Al-
: liquor, scotch

dmitted that he
nearly twenty
was hurried to
astioned by de-
day all of Hunt’s
out. There was
inst him and he
‘d.

called for Sep-
‘uly and August
were unable to
against him, ex-
of bar hold-ups.
ybberies but. the
ar-bandit was

yeries on which
vas, working was

2
%
4
&
:
#
¥
we

¥.

Ben SH

aed

ei ae

CONFESSED —
bandit Kenneth Breckenridge was
captured) with the guilty killer.

a business firm in which a large sup-
ply of blank checks had been taken.
Presuming that the blank checks had
been taken for the purpose of forging
them, the Forgery Detail was noti-_
fied. They in turn notified all banks
check-cashing establishments, and
large business firms to be on the look-
out for any of the checks which might
turn up.

It didn’t take long for one of the
checks to show up. Two young men
entered a Soe cashing place at 6th
and Main and presented a check, one
of them offering a driver’s license as
identification.

The teller, recognizing the check as
a forgery, displayed no excitement.
“I’m sorry,” he smiled at them, “we’ve
Just made our deposits for the day
sone don’t have this much cash on

and,”

A doubtful frown crossed the dark
face of one of the men. “But I think
I can help you,” the teller added
quickly, “take it over to the Subway
Terminal Building, at 4th and Hill.
There’s a check-cashing place there.
Tell them that I sent you over. They’ll
take care of you.”

The dark young man hesitated a
moment. “Well, all right,” he said as
he reached for the check. We'll try

ere,”

The men had hardly walked out
the door before the teller grabbed
the telephone and called the Forgery
Detail. “They’re on their way over
there now,” he said after giving a
careful description. “It won’t take
them long. You’ll have to hurry.”

Four officers did hurry. Detective
Lieutenants Beeson and Gaffney, from
the Robbery Squad, and Bennett and
Sanders, from the Forgery Detail.
They had just stationed themselves
inside and outside the establishment
when the two men, each with a paper
bag under his arm, walked in and
presented the check.

Guns drawn, Beeson and Gaffney

stepped forward. “You’re under ar-
rest,” Beeson announced to the sur-
prised men.

Gaffney grabbed the paper bags
from them, and quickly searched them
for arms. Each paper bag contained
a loaded revolver.

The men identified themselves as
Albert Joe Simeone, 33, and Kenneth
Breckenridge, 27. Booked on sus-
Picidn of robbery, Simeone readily
admitted five robberies during the
previous months. “You’ve got me,”
he said, “I’m ready to go back to the
big house.”

5 ompney criminal record was long.
It included two prison terms. He had
been paroled from Folsom Prison
just one year before where he had

en serving a term for assault with
a deadly weapon with intent to com-
mit murder. In Long Beach he had
shot a special policeman without any
apparent reason.

“Is this your gun?” Stoner asked
him as he displayed the .38 police
positive revolver found in the bag
Simeone had been carrying.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he admitted.

“How long have you had it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, several months.”

Both guns were sent to the Crime
Lab.. Experts Russell Camp* and
George Darrow checked them. It was
Camp’s report to Captain Brown that
turned the two murder investigations
upside down. “This is the .38 which
killed both Asch and Martinez,” he
said. “The cartridges are reloads.”

URST and Stoner took over the

two suspects. But when Hurst

mentioned’ the two murders, Si-
meone suddenly changed his stories.
Mainly he refused to talk, and said
that he had only owned the gun for
a few weeks.

“He’s a smart one all right,” Hurst
said after he had talked to Simeonc.
“He doesn’t want any murder, That’s
why he confessed to the robberies so
quickly. He’ll never tell us anything
now. We'll have to find the evidence
against him ourselves.”

Among Simeone’s personal effects
Hurst and Stoner did find damaging
evidence. There. was a blue pin-stripe
suit, and a (Continued on page 82)

WITNESSES—.

Mrs. Helen Martinez, “left, saw her

husband shot down. Mrs,

Dorothy
Fenestra, ‘right, also

witnessed crime, |


82

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turtle-neck sweater, which fit the
Martinez case. Too, there was a dark
blue jacket, without a zipper, which:
fit the Asch case.

Next Simeone was placed in the
Show-up and a score of witnesses in
the two murders and various rob-
beries were brought in. Mrs. Mar-
tinez’s face blanched as she saw the
dark complexioned man in the. line;
‘up. “Oh, I’ve made an awful mistake,”
she gasped. “That’s the man right
there. It wasn’t that other man. This
is the guilty one.”

Fourteen other witnesses also
identified Simeone. “I’m satisfied he’s
the man,” Hurst announced and all
the other officers agreed with him.

At Captain Brown's request, In-
spector of Detectives Bruce F. Clark
promptly notified the District Attor-
ney’s Office, and made out a formal
statement requesting that the charges
against Robert W. Jetton be dismissed
for Jetton was completely innocent
in the case.

“We've got to get. every piece of
evidence we can against Simeone,”
Brown told his officers. “He'll have a
good defense so far as identification
goes since .some of the witnesses
positively identified Jetton first.” —~

Hurst and Stoner left no stone un-.

turned. Day by day they added one
thing after the other to evidence of
the ballistic expert’s report on the
gun, They proved Simeone had lied in
several of his statements to them. In
the matter of the possession of the
gun, Simeone claimed he had pur-
chased it ‘through a newspaper ad-
vertisement, in Alhambra, but he
couldn’t give the exact date nor the

name of the person from ,whom he-

bought it. Once he said he had given
a check for the. gun, but he had no
account in: the bank at that time.
“What we need is some direct ad-
mission from him,” Stoner reasoned.
“We'll never get it from him direct,”
Hurst said, “but we might be able to
trap him in. saying something in-

Realizing that they were dealing
with a wily man, the officers carefull
set the stage for Simeone to talk wit
a fellow-prisoner, held on. minor

ext they arranged for the police

roadcast to their
radio car at an exact hour, On that
evening they took the two prisoners
in the radio car and start
Long Beach. Just as they neared
Compton the car’s radio crackled
forth with a special call for that car
to hurry to a southern Los Angeles
address. :

“We'll leave these boys in Compton
for the time being,” Hurst said seri-
ously. “We. can pick them up again
after we see what this call is about.”

MISTAKEN IDENTITY -

(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 35)

The plan worked. Simeone did not
suspect that the officers were listen-
ing to every word from the Compton
jail cell:as he tried to arrange for
the other prisoners to i
an alibi on the very nights of the
murders. The conversations between

the two prisoners were recorded for _

later use in the. trial.

Nevertheless Simeone did have an
alibi for the night of the Asch “mur-
der when his case was called in Su-
perior Court. He had witnesses to say
that on that night he had attended a
school program in the southern part
of Los Angeles. The witnesses ‘stated
positively that he was thére during
the evening but admitted’ that’he was

one for_ten or fifteen: minutes.

eputy . District Attorney Tommy
Cochran, who was handling the prose-
cution, quickly blasted the alibi. He,
with officers, drove from the school
to. 8201 Avalon Boulevard, stopped
and went into the bar for four ‘min-
utes and then drove back. The trip
took them only eight minutes.

Deputy District Attorney Cochran
did not wait for the defense to attack
the identification of - Simeone. He
called Jetton as:his own witness and
stood him beside Simeone before’ the
jury. Side by side the two men were
easily distinguishable. But their gen-
eral features were the same, similar
enough for anyone to mistake them
after having only seen them for a few
seconds during a hold-up or murder.

Simeone’s actions were obvious
gramatics in an attempt to build-up
some sympathy for himself. To one
of the alienists, who examined him,
he frankly admitted that he had got
a = shortly after his. release from
Folsom in 1943 and began his series
of crimes. }

Simeone and - Breckenridge were |

charged with five counts of robbery,
and Simeone was charged with the
murder of Jack Asch and Joe Mar-
tinez. There were a number of other
robberies, and at least one other mur-
der which police felt sure were the
work of Simeone.
- Both plead guilty to the five robbery
counts. Simeone’s .crimes were fixed
at first degree robbery and because of
his two prior convictions he was ad-
judged a habitual criminal, and sen-
tenced to _ life imprisonment on
December: 11th, 1944. ;

The life sentence was meaningless
for a few days later a ju sitting in
Superior Judge Charles W. Frickes’

nounce two death sentences to Al
Joe Simeone. _.

Robert Jetton was an innocent’ vic-
tim of circumstances in this bizarre
case. The identification made by Mrs.
Martinez and others were in g
faith and were made in an attempt
to aid officers of the law to solve an
enigmatic mystery.—Editor.

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